# The Wireless Operator—With the U. S. Coast Guard/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX
The City of Paul Revere
AS usual, Henry found that the captain was up and about when he himself awoke. As he hustled into his clothes he felt ashamed to seem to be such a laggard. He found, however, that he wasn’t so late as he had thought. In fact, it was still early, but the captain was such a tireless worker that one would indeed have had to get up early to be ahead of him. As usual, he was at his desk. He rose as Henry entered the cabin. In his hand was a red-bordered Coast Guard radio telegraph blank.
“Good-morning,” said the captain. “How are you this morning?”
“Just the very best,” said Henry. “I hope that I am not too late. I wanted to be up before we reached the harbor. Are we anywhere near Boston?”
“You’re just in time. We're off Boston Light now. I am just going to send this message to the Commandant of the Navy Yard.”
The commander reached for his call-bell, but Henry held out his hand. “Let me take it,” he offered.
​The captain handed him the message. Henry folded the sheet, writing innermost. The commander smiled approval. “You may read it,” he said.
Henry opened the blank. It was addressed to the Commandant of the Boston Navy Yard and read: “Request permission to land at Navy Yard to obtain supplies from the Oneida. C. Hardwick, Commander, Iroquois.”
“Do you have to get permission to enter the Navy Yard?” exclaimed Henry.
“Yes indeed, whether you come by land or by sea.”
Henry carried the message to the radio shack, and Mr. Sharp got it off at once. Then he went to the bridge and bade the men on watch good- morning, but he had little inclination for talk. The wonderful scene that presented itself ahead fascinated him.
Already they had passed Boston Light, and the Iroquois was heading directly for a low-lying island that lay in the water like a huge, gray-brown button. It was George’s Island, and the queer-looking, mound-like eminence on it was Fort Warren. Henry learned that a moment later when he stepped into the chart-room and studied the map. He wanted to know exactly what he was seeing.
Close beside George’s Island lay Lovell’s ​Island, a big, hulking, rocky bit of land that reached some little elevation. There was also a third island, Gallup Island. And these three, like nuts between the extended jaws of a pair of pincers, lay between the long, tapering ends of the mainland that thrust out into the sea for miles. Behind these pincers was a great bay, practically land-locked, and filled with islands. Its coast line was cut and gashed with points and inlets. Everywhere the combers were crashing on the beaches and shining white in the morning sun. And on these islands and points, and along the shore, stood innumerable cottages, which Henry judged must be summer residences.
As the Iroquois approached George’s Island the ship was headed northwest one-half north. Now she steamed between Gallup and Lovell’s Islands, and Henry examined with interest the quarantine station on the former. Past Deer Island they went, with its huge and gloomy-looking prison and great stone walls, and past Long Island and Spectacle Island, which got its name because it is shaped not unlike a huge pair of nose-glasses. And, turning as the channel twisted, the Iroquois worked her way into the ever-narrowing mouth of the harbor, with the captain now on the bridge, conning the ship through the tortuous passage. Thompson’s ​Island was passed, and Governor’s Island, with Fort Winthrop, and now the narrow harbor was close at hand. Meantime the radio man had handed to the captain the answer to the latter’s wireless message, directing him where to dock the Iroquois.
How interesting it was to Henry. To be sure, the scene lacked the picturesqueness of the New York Harbor, with its unique sky line and its Liberty Statue, yet it was wonderfully fascinating. High before them towered two shafts. One was almost exactly like the Washington Monument, which was entirely familiar to Henry even though he had never seen it. He rightly guessed that this must be Bunker Hill Monument, and he was glad that it was so near at hand. If he had opportunity, he meant to visit it. The other tower was just as evidently a building. It reminded Henry of the Metropolitan Tower in New York. The captain told him it was the Boston Custom House. The remainder of the city looked much like any other city. It was a mass of buildings, some big and some little, crowded together so that one could hardly be distinguished from another. In the docks lay vessels—goodly steamships and some many-masted schooners; and of course there were tugs and smaller craft. But the harbor life was quiet indeed compared with the bustle in the waters of ​New York Bay. Nevertheless, it interested Henry deeply.
When the Iroquois at last lay snug in her dock in the Boston Navy Yard, Henry was almost spellbound. Never had he dreamed of seeing such a collection of vessels. Immediately across the pier from the Iroquois he saw a ship standing high in air, with her keel not only out of water, but almost at the level of the pier itself. Henry had never seen anything like this before, and his astonishment was hardly lessened when the captain told him that this was the marine railway on which ships were hauled out of water, and that the vessel on the railway was the Coast Guard cutter, Oneida. Her bottom was being scraped and painted, and she was getting some new rivets in her plates.
But if Henry was astonished to see a ship high up in the air, he was hardly less amazed to see another far down in the bowels of the earth, for on the other side of the Iroquois, at no great distance, a little lean, gray boat, was propped upright in the centre of a great hole that had been dug in the earth. She was deep down. Henry judged her keel must be a full thirty feet below the level of the surrounding earth. There was no water in the hole, and workmen were busy all about the little ship. As Henry soon discovered, this boat was in one of the Navy Yard dry docks. ​He asked permission to look around, and the captain told him to go where he liked, but cautioned him not to take too great liberties.
Henry stepped ashore and ran over to the dry dock. He was more amazed than ever when he stood on the edge of it and looked down into it. It was, indeed, a great hole in the ground—an excavation hundreds of feet long and many yards wide. The sides were made of massive masonry, built up like steps, of huge blocks of granite. The dry dock was as deep as a tall house is high. In shape it was long, and would have been rectangular had its inner end been square instead of rounding. The other end, the square end, was what interested Henry, for when he came to examine it, he found it was nothing but a water-gate. It was a great steel structure, tremendously braced to make it strong, though at first glimpse it seemed much like the rest of the wall. This steel end or gate held the water out, for, of course, the dry dock opened into the harbor. It was so made that water could pour through open ports, filling the dock. Then the gate itself could be swung outward to one side, so that a ship could enter the dock, and when the gate was once more swung in place and the openings closed, pumps were put at work and all the water pumped out, leaving the ship propped up securely on keel blocks. Thus the workmen ​could work at every part of the ship at the same time.
And they were indeed working at every part of this ship at once, for Henry now saw with even greater astonishment that the ship had been cut in two. The bow, which had been sheared off in a collision, and the after part of the boat were blocked in position, and these two parts were now being reunited. The vessel was a torpedo boat and had been in collision with a larger craft.
Henry was glad to see her, because he had never before seen a torpedo boat close at hand. She was long, low, rakish, and built much like a knife. Indeed, she had to be long and thin to attain the tremendous speed at which these boats are sometimes driven, for they travel as fast as express trains.
When he had satisfied his curiosity, Henry made a more general survey of his surroundings. He noticed the great coal bunkers, where naval vessels coaled. Little cars were traveling up an inclined railway, like a procession of elephants, and dropping loads of coal in the elevated bunkers, whence it could be shot downward to ships lying alongside. He saw great numbers of huge anchors and cables and chains, and other ship’s gear, lying on a pier. And there were several huge barges floating in a dock, each containing as many naval launches as its deck space would ​hold. Still other barges were laden with lumber and iron and similar stores. There were great cranes afloat and ashore.
Near by, too, an eagle boat lay in a dock. Henry was glad to see it. He had read about these submarine chasers during the war, but had never seen one close at hand. This vessel was something more than one hundred feet long, very narrow, low-lying, with some guns mounted on the low deck, and her superstructure amidships. Her wireless antennæ and her guns both held Henry’s attention. The longer he looked at her, the more he wondered that she could withstand the sea. He knew something about waves now, and he was sure that in a rough sea they would sweep across the decks of this little craft again and again. At once he gained a higher opinion of the hardy men who sailed these craft, in fair weather and foul, and guarded the shipping lanes during the war.
When Henry had seen all he could see from the immediate neighborhood of the Iroquois’ pier, he started to walk along the water-front. Almost the first thing he came upon was a submarine. He was immensely pleased to see one of these ships so close at hand. The tide was low, and the little craft sat in her dock as snug as a duck in the reeds. Like the torpedo boat and the eagle boat, the submarine was painted gray. ​She was some hundreds of feet long, and made Henry think of a huge log afloat. Her rounded sides rose only a few feet above the water. Amidships was the conning tower, with its periscope. There were short masts for wireless antennæ. The very top of the hull was flattened, so that the crew could walk on it. Along the sides of this narrow deck were short uprights with eyelets at their tops, which a life-line pierced, and this line was the only rail the sailors had to keep them from falling into the sea. Perhaps it was the big guns fastened to the deck that most interested Henry. There was no way to protect them from the sea, and when the ship was running submerged, he saw that these guns would stand right up in the water. The horizontal rudders, by means of which the ship was enabled to dive under the waves, were also interesting. They were pivoted, so that, when not in use, they folded back into depressions in the hull of the ship, just as a fish’s fins are sometimes folded close against its body.
When Henry walked to the next piers he was thrilled, indeed, for there lay two of our great fighting ships, the battleships Utah and Delaware. What ponderous, grim, menacing hulks they were. How high their decks were. How their superstructures towered aloft. How threatening their turreted guns appeared. And ​what curious structures the basketwork masts were. It seemed to Henry as though each of these ships must contain a whole village of people, for he could see sailors by the hundreds on board. Some were washing the ships’ sides, some were at work on the decks, some were up in the superstructures. Wherever he looked, he seemed to see men. And it was just like the dismissal of church or school when a party of bluejackets came ashore on leave. They poured down the gangplanks in masses, and went jauntily off toward the gate for their holiday.
There were other ships, too. One was evidently a new vessel. It was fiery red in its first coat of paint, and had peculiar lines, different from those of any ship Henry had yet seen. The superstructure appeared to be but one story high and to extend nearly the length of the vessel. It was perfectly level, with no railings about it. Henry was so astonished at the unusual appearance of the craft that he stepped up to a group of workmen and asked what the ship was.
“That’s the Whitney,’ said one of the men. “She was just launched a few days ago. She’s a submarine tender.”
“What a queer top she has,” remarked Henry.
“Yes,” agreed the workmen. “She was de-​signed for an aëroplane carrier, but they changed her into a submarine tender.”
“Oh, I see,” responded Henry. “I suppose that explains the long, flat top of her superstructure. “That’s where the aëroplanes were to alight at sea.”
Henry thanked his informant and hurried on. He saw the great collier Neptune, and an oil carrier, the Arethusa, and the scout cruiser Chester. 'The latter two lay side by side, and it made Henry actually laugh to see the difference in their build. The swift scout cruiser was lean and high, the oil carrier lower and fat, with sides that actually bulged. The two ships were as different in appearance as a lean greyhound and a fat collie.
But of all the craft in the Navy Yard none so fascinated Henry as the old battleship Constitution. For there, close beside these modern ships of war, lay old Ironsides, the frigate of forty battles, in which she never knew defeat, the oldest and most famous vessel in the United States Navy. There she lay, almost as old as the nation itself, for she was built in 1797, and she was yet sound.
Thrilled by the sight, Henry stood on the pier beside her and examined her every rope and spar. Her hull was one of those blocky, bulky, upstanding structures typical of the long ago. ​High above the water line, at intervals of a few feet, open ports reached from stem to stern, and from each open port projected the grim and threatening muzzle of a cannon. Her three masts were the most enormous spars Henry had ever seen. Scores of feet they towered aloft, for mast stood upon mast, the topmast being surmounted with still a third mast, until there was a most bewildering array of shrouds and rigging. And such rigging! Often enough had Henry seen the rigging of modern sailing ships. He knew well enough what these rope ladders that lead to the crosstrees look like in modern boats. But here, instead of the customary three stays on a side, were stays after stays, with their crosspieces, so that many men at a time could swarm up and down the rigging, and out on those enormous spars to furl the sails, for the ship was a square rigger. And at the crosstrees were great platforms where a dozen men could stand. Henry saw right away the reason for these platforms. Sailors could stand here after furling the sails. Sharpshooters could be stationed here, where they could see over the smoke cloud, to pick off officers and men on opposing vessels, for in those days vessels fought side by side, and even sought to grapple each other so that crews could fight hand to hand. The old ship’s bowsprit, too, was of unbelievable dimensions, extending ​yards and yards beyond the bow and reaching an incredible elevation.
Henry saw that visitors were permitted on board, and he walked up the gangplank. The deck of the Constitution was not unlike the deck of any other sailing ship. But the gun deck, below, was fascinating. It was a great bare section of the ship, whence projected the gun muzzles, and in it was nothing but an ancient stove amidships, for heating cannon balls red hot, and the rows of cannon on either side. Henry was amazed at the number of these guns. A placard told him that the ship originally carried forty-four. These were bulky, chunky affairs, mounted on heavy wooden carriages, with small wheels beneath, and great hawsers and tackles holding them in place. There were no breechloaders in the days when the Constitution fought. Then each gun had to be run through its port and swabbed out and loaded through the muzzle, and then it was run out again with the tackle, blocked in place, and fired.
Henry could have spent hours examining the old craft, but he did not know how long the Iroquois would lie in the Navy Yard, and he wanted to see all he could while he was in Boston. So he reluctantly took a last look at this famous old frigate, and made his way rapidly back to the Iroquois. On the way he took note of the ​huge shops, some of them covering as much ground as a city block, the great traveling cranes, the shifting engines, and all the other vast equipment in the Navy Yard. It was like a city in itself, and it made Henry proud to think that he was an American.
Captain Hardwick informed Henry that there was some delay about the stores, and that it would require several hours at least to transship them. The Iroquois could not leave before late afternoon, and might not get away before the next day. He secured a pass for Henry and told him to look at Boston to his heart’s content, but to be sure not to get lost.
“I’ve heard that it is hard to get around in Boston,” agreed Henry.
“You’ll get lost, sure,” laughed the captain. “Everybody does.”
“Where could I get a map?” inquired Henry. “I wouldn’t get lost with a map.”
“You may have mine,” said the commander. And he got for Henry a fine little book of maps that folded between stiff covers. One of these maps was of Boston.
On his way to the gate Henry noticed numerous buildings, like the commissary stores. And there was a long row of houses, evidently for the use of officers attached to the Navy Yard, with the commandant’s house standing conspicuously ​near by. The row of houses looked out on a small park, with a band stand in it, and Henry thought it must be very delightful to be in the park on summer evenings and listen to the marine bands.
Once outside the gate, Henry found it was no trick at all to reach Bunker Hill Monument. That was just around the corner, as it were, up on a bit of high ground. A few minutes’ walk brought Henry to it. He found that the monument stood at the very apex of a considerable mound, that was the size of a city block or two, and was laid out very pleasingly with lawns and walks. Attractive residences faced the monument on all four sides of the square. Henry found a policeman patrolling the grounds, and the man seemed very willing to answer questions. He showed Henry where the American fortifications lay, and where the British troops swarmed the hill. A stone memorial marked one corner of the redoubt. The monument itself, which was something more than two hundred feet high, was exactly like the Washington Monument, Henry learned, for the guide told him that the Washington Monument had been modeled after it.
With interest Henry saw where the British troops had formed at the foot of Breed’s Hill and marched up to the redoubt, only to be hurled back twice by the unbearably deadly fire of the American marksmen. To be sure, the land was ​now covered with solid blocks of buildings, but Henry tried to picture to himself the field as it was in 1775, with long, waving grass and a straggling stone wall behind which some of the American troops took position.
His heart was filled with emotion as he left this spot, sacred to liberty, and made his way down the hill again. His map showed him that he was not far from Faneuil Hall. He wanted to see that old building almost as much as he had wanted to see Bunker Hill. He found his way to it, and was much interested in the curious old structure.
The great market house filled an entire small block, for, from its birth, Faneuil Hall had been primarily a market. Henry walked completely around it. Dozens of market dealers in dozens of stalls offered all sorts of green food-stuffs for sale. Their wares were temptingly displayed along the sidewalk. Celery, onions, apples, potatoes, and all the various vegetables and green foods that we commonly eat were here to be found. When he entered the market house itself, he found it divided into two parts, through each of which went a long, central aisle, with stalls on each side. Meats and poultry were to be had here. It made Henry hungry to see the countless cuts of beef and veal and mutton.
A wide stairway led from the sidewalk at one ​end of the building up to the second floor. Henry entered and went up the steep steps. He soon found himself in a roomy and convenient auditorium, encircled by an elevated gallery. The place was interesting, not only because of its historic associations, but also because of its beautiful old woodwork and mouldings and decorations.
The third floor Henry found to be the quarters of one of the Boston troops. The huge floor was cleared, so that it could be used for drilling or for dancing. Around the walls were hung the likenesses of all the men who had been captains in this organization, and there were pictures of the famous battles in which these troops had fought.
There was so much to see that Henry found he could never get over it all, so he decided that he would see the famous old North Church, in the belfry of which the lanterns were hung to notify Paul Revere which way the British would journey to Lexington on that famous night in ’75. Near by was the very house in which Paul Revere lived. So Henry, following his map closely, hastened through a most bewildering labyrinth of streets, and soon found himself in a region that was, to all appearances, a part of Italy. The narrow, crooked streets were filled with Italian children. In doorways sat shawled ​Italian women gossiping and sewing. Italian shops lined the way. It was interesting and novel to Henry. He had never before been in an Italian section of an American city. But he had little time to look about. He hurried on until he came to a little house so unlike any other building in the block that he did not need his guide-book to tell him it was the home of Paul Revere. It was a curious brown house, with tiny diamond-shaped panes in the little leaded windows. The roof was low, and the second story seemed to be hardly more than half a story in height. Henry saw that he could gain admission by the payment of a small fee, but he thought he scarcely had time to examine the house.
So he went on around a corner or two, and presently he found himself standing before the old North Church. It was still a sightly structure, with its shapely spire rising above its plain brick walls. An iron fence rose in front of it. On the wall was a bronze tablet calling attention to the fact that here were hung the lanterns that guided Paul Revere.
When Henry had examined the old church from every possible angle, he turned away and headed for the Iroquois. At least, he turned away from the church. Such curious rambling streets he had never seen. He knew well enough that he would have been hopelessly lost without ​the captain’s map. And even with that in his hand he was sometimes bothered to know which way to go, so poorly were the streets marked. Many were the new and interesting things he saw on his way back to the Navy Yard. “I’m surely coming back to Boston again some time,” he thought. “It is a wonderfully interesting place.” And then the idea occurred to him that if he succeeded in becoming a Coast Guard man, it might be possible for him to visit not only Boston, but also many other American cities. He was more determined than ever that he would persist in his effort until he won the place he wanted. Then, too, he could be of some real service to this commander he loved, for Henry had become very loyal to Captain Hardwick. The time when he could be of service to the commander of the Iroquois was a great deal nearer than Henry dreamed. Perhaps it was as well he did not realize that, or understand the trying experiences that lay so close before him.