Читать книгу The Wireless Operator—With the U. S. Coast Guard онлайн

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An interesting place, indeed, was this St. George terminal. Henry had journeyed on the upper deck of the ferry-boat, and now he found himself in the upper part of the ferry-house. There were all the usual features of a great waiting-room—long rows of seats, and news-stands, and quick-lunch counters, and fruit-stands. None of these interested Henry. His attention was centred on the scene without. The edge of the island was a low-lying fringe of land, now given over wholly to shipping facilities—great wharves and piers and wide roadways skirting the water’s edge. Inland a few hundred yards the ground rose sharp and steep, and these sloping terraces were covered with buildings. Skirting the hilly heart of the island, roads wound downward, meeting directly in front of the ferry building, and reaching that structure by a long, sloping approach. These converging roads made Henry think of a huge funnel, with the sloping ferry-approach as its small end. And the idea of a funnel was carried out by the way this approach poured traffic into the ferry-terminal. Trolley cars, motor cars, and pedestrians swarmed down it in endless procession. Seemingly all the roads in Staten Island converged at the upper end of this ferry-approach, and shunted their burdens toward the crowded ferry-house.