All that day he had been standing with his eyes riveted upon the shore, for something told him that I could not be far away.
Everything was in readiness, even to the last biscuit.
As Bulger and I leaped over the rail, my good ship rounded to the wind, and darted away like a thing of life.
The blood tingled in my veins at sight of the blue waves and white bellying sails.
Bulger gave vent to his satisfaction in mad gambols and ear-piercing barks.
It was certainly an auspicious beginning.
Leaving the command of the ship to the mate, the captain joined me in the cabin, where I unfolded to him my project of sailing in the Southern seas in quest of a long-forgotten island.
He made haste to unroll his chart and adjust his spectacles, in order to fix the location of the island when I should give him the latitude and longitude.
Fancy his almost consternation when I told him that the only proof I had of the existence of such an island was the brief mention in the ancient Roman newspaper.
Was I mad?