“Wot’s a Solon?” inquired Tim.
“Solon was a man as thought his-self a great feelosopher, but he worn’t, he wor an ass.”
“If I’m like Solon,” retorted Rokens, “you’re like a Solon-goose, w’ich is an animal as don’t think itself an ass, ’cause its too great a one to know it.”
Having thus floored his adversary, the philosophic mariner turned to Glynn and said—
“In course we can’t expect to be on full allowance.”
“Of course not, old boy; the captain remarked, just as I left him, that we’d have to be content with short allowance—very short allowance indeed.”
Gurney sighed deeply.
“How much?” inquired Tim.
“About three ounces of biscuit, one ounce of salt junk, and a quarter of a pint of water per day.”
Gurney groaned aloud.