Log

a board attached to a cord and thrown overboard to determine the speed of a ship. The cord is knotted with brightly colored bits of cloth at regular intervals. As soon as the bit of board strikes the water astern it remains practically stationary, and as the ship goes ahead, the line runs out and the knots flit overboard with a speed corresponding to that of the ship. From the number of knots that run overboard in a quarter of a minute the ship's officer computes the number of knots the ship runs an hour. This record mapped on a chart serves to tell where the ship is at any particular hour. An automatic log has been invented. It is constructed somewhat on the same plan as the device used on bicycles. One end is in the pilot house; the other end is in the water under the ship. Dials show not only the speed at the moment of observation but the total distance run. See Steamship

Logan (1725-1780), a celebrated chief of the Cayugas. His tribe lived on the Susquehanna. In his youth he was well known to the inhabitants of Pennsylvania and Virginia for unswerving loyalty to the whites. About 1770 he removed his family to the Ohio Valley. Four years later his family was massacred by a party of whites. Canceling his former friendship, Logan organized war bands and fell upon the scattered settlers. For several months he continued a ferocious onslaught marked by scalpings and burnings. When a force of troops appeared in the vicinity he disdained to appear with the other chiefs to sue for peace. In his Notes on Virginia, Jefferson quotes a noted speech said to have been sent Lord Dunsmore at the time through an interpreter. It is doubtful whether Logan ever sent such a message:

I appeal to any white man to say if he ever entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if he ever came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my good will for the white man that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, "Logan is the friend of the white man." I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cressap, the last spring in cold blood and unprovoked, murdered all the relatives of Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice in the terms of peace, but do not harbor a thought that mine is a joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one.

The aged chieftain was killed in an altercation with some drunken Indians. See Indians