—Socrates.
LOG Fifth Day
The sun rose half an hour late. Eggley Monade, the ship’s wag, suggested that Old Sol’s safety-razor must have been out of whack. The Mate belted him with a piece of tarred rope, and Doctor Zoolak with the compass needle took seven stitches.
Shortly before noon we picked up the Stock Exchange light, and the Lithia was slowed down.
Took on Tom Lawson, the pilot, who knows right off the reel, without sounding, the depth of water at [98] ]every point in the dangerous channel of Wall Street. Tom brought aboard his magazine-gun, which he mounted at the bow, remarking jovially that he might take a crack at a pirate or two.