The Merle was ready for her long cruise. Jack was well satisfied with the sufficiency of her stores, as in addition to the plain provisions which he and Taberman had provided, the yacht had been most abundantly victualed by the President for her summer's cruising.
"Think of anything we've left, Jerry?" Jack asked.
"The President?" Tab suggested.
Jack's official seriousness went entirely to pieces at this suggestion, but he turned to the steward with an air of business.
"Have you got everything, Gonzague?"
"Yes, sair. I t'ink de leest is feel," the old man responded, closely regarding the dirty paper on which he had made his inventory and checked off each article as it came on board. Each item in the list had a black scratch beside it.
"Well, then," the captain said, with a spark in his eye, "we're off!"
He gave the word to clear the decks and to get under weigh.
The wind had come around to the west, and was blowing fresh. They made all sail, however, chancing the gusty squalls which they were likely to meet off the high land of Isle au Haut, which they meant to leave on the starboard. The fog had gone entirely, except for long ghostly wreaths clinging to the dark green gullies of the Haut or encircling the distant mountain-tops of Mt. Desert; and when the sun rose clear and fair, all auspices seemed most cheeringly propitious.