"A place called the Fish Pier," the Delian answered, and pointed.

He used Atticus's twenty-dollar bill to take a taxi to the empty corner of Fish Pier and Seaport Boulevard, a few blocks from the target building.

After unloading several crates of lively lobsters from his boat to his pickup truck on Fish Pier, Jack Koski, a lobsterman, gazed out at the water and squinted against the sun.

Sorry as I am to say it, because I have fond memories of the old places, the No Name restaurant on Fish Pier is well past its prime, as are Anthony's Pier 4 and Jimmy's Harborside, the hangar-like waterfront feederies that have played host for years to political functions and family reunions.

Once you arrive in downtown Gloucester, however, it is clear that this once-muscular industry has withered, although the Fish Pier and Seven Seas Wharf still seem busy enough in the summer with sightseers, whale-watching expeditions and waterfront restaurants.

The process starts, much of the time, with Arthur Kloak, a husky buyer with a diamond stud in one ear, who clambers into the clammy holds of fishing boats after they tie up at Fish Pier, off Northern Avenue in South Boston.

The Fish Pier proved to have no musical instruments in stock, and the next stop had only a less well cared for version of the instrument they'd seen at Samson Liu's.

It was late morning and the No Name Restaurant on Fish Pier was deserted.