It was like the last wave from a ship’s pilot as he sends the vessel off to sea alone.
By this time they had fifteen hundred feet altitude and were beginning to breathe easier. Jack leaned over to the Skipper and said:
“We’re off! How does it feel?”
The Skipper smiled and replied:
“She handles pretty well, but it did seem ungodly tail-heavy at the take-off. The sooner we can get those small cans in the rear compartment emptied, the better I’ll like it. We’d better not try it yet, but as soon as we use some fuel out of the main tank we’ll empty a few of those spare cans and heave them overboard.”
Setting their course across Long Island Sound, they could see ahead the dim line of the Connecticut shore, and Jack lowered their wireless aerial and clicked his first message to Connors. It was short and to the point.
“Everything going well. (signed) DAUNTLESS”
About seven o’clock they were over Cape Cod and could see many boats and steamers crawling over a smooth sea.
Jack sent another message to Connors reporting all well, then clicked off in code:
“Signing off to empty fuel from spare cans.”