Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OLD SPECIE. 27 Little does he reckon that the stormy ocean holds no peril so great as that which lies in wait beyond those harbor lights—where human sharks rob him of his hard earned money, and vile liquor steals away his brains. In this desert of vice and shame, where one’s soul shudders at the sights and sounds around, let us thank Heaven for such oases as the Seatiane Church and Jerry McAuley’s Mission, the true har- bor lights of New York. Old Specie had taken up the oars. He had little hope of locating the men under such discouraging circumstances. As he pulled he was compelled to keep his head twisted in all directions, endeavoring to follow them, and at the same time keep an eye out for danger. There was enough of this to add spice to the oc- casion, for ferry boats were plunging across or up and down the river, while tugs also whisked past, aiming for the bay below, so as to be on the lookout for vessels in the morning. Hugging the shore as well as possible, the two boats crept down toward Fulton street. CHAPTER IV. PROWLING IN DARK PLACES. More than once the detective had a narrow es- cape from a capsize. Once a ferry-boat pushed out of a slip just as he shot by. Through good fortune he had kept the boat ahead of him in sight all this while. Gomicboo cS