The fare was a nickel then. Now the ride is free.

And the drinks are cheap.

On the deck near dusk, Amanda Gough, 26, traveled alone, holding the book “A Game of Thrones” in her right hand and a 25.4-ounce Foster’s beer in her left, to be completed, per ritual, before reaching Manhattan for a night out with friends. “That’s the challenge,” she said. She is undefeated.

On the 10 p.m. ferry, riders completed a streak of 19 consecutive beer orders in the ferry’s food and beverage area. A woman seeking popcorn broke the run, which was equaled on the 11 p.m. ferry, before a water order felled momentum.

By this time of night, clubgoers predominated, particularly on trips from Staten Island to Manhattan, the rows a kaleidoscope of cheetah print, high heels, higher heels and assorted renderings of the Italian flag.

There is a line of seats in front of a mirror in the women’s bathroom, primed for primping; the men’s room has no such trappings, though there are locks on the rolls of toilet paper, lest a free ride become a profitable one for the sticky-fingered.

This was the hour of the bachelor pep talk, for those who would soon attempt perhaps New York City’s unlikeliest nightclub maneuver: selling a potential mate on a trip to Staten Island with a stranger. “Bro, bro, only 9s and 10s tonight,” one rider advised a friend as they boarded.