Discworld – Jingo (Terry Pratchett)

The Watch had tried to make themselves comfortable in the hold, but there were difficulties. There wasn't any area of floor which at some point in every ten seconds wasn't an area of wall.

Nevertheless, someone was snoring.

'How can anyone sleep in this?' said Reg Shoe.

'Captain Carrot can,' said Cheery. She was hacking at something with her axe.

Carrot had wedged himself into a corner. Occasionally he mumbled something, and shifted position.

'Like a baby. Beats me how he's managing it,' said Reg Shoe. 'Of course, any minute this thing is going to fall apart.'

'Yes, but dat shouldn't worry you, should it?' said Detritus. 'On account of you bein' dead already?'

'So? I end up at the bottom of the sea knee–deep in whale droppings? And it'll be a long walk home in the dark. Not to mention the problems if a shark tries to eat me.'

'I shall fear not. According to the Testament of Mezerek, the fishermen Nonpo spent four days in the belly of a giant fish,' said Constable Visit.

The thunder seemed particularly loud in the silence.

'Washpot, are we talking miracles here?' said Reg eventually. 'Or just a very slow digestive process?'

'You would be better employed considering the state of your immortal soul than making jokes,' said Constable Visit severely.

'It's the state of my immortal body that's worrying me,' said Reg.

'I have a leaflet here which will bring you considerable–' Visit began.

'Washpot, is it big enough to be folded into a boat that'll save us all?'

Constable Visit pounced on the opening. 'Aha, yes, metaphorically it is–'

'Hasn't this ship got a lifeboat?' said Cheery hurriedly. 'I'm sure I saw one when we came on.'

'Yeah... lifeboat,' said Detritus.

'Anyone want a sardine?' said Cheery. 'I've managed to get a tin open.'

'Lifeboat,' Detritus repeated. He sounded like someone exploring an unpleasant truth. 'Like... a big, heavy thing which would've slowed us down... ?'

'Yes, I saw it, I know I did,' said Reg.

'Yeah... dere was one,' said Detritus. 'Dat was a lifeboat, was it?'

'At the very least we ought to get somewhere sheltered and drop the anchor.'

'Yeah... anchor…' mused Detritus. 'Dat's a big thing kinda hooks on, right?'

'Of course.'

'Kinda heavy thing?'

'Obviously!'

'Right. An'... er... if it was dropped a long time ago, on accounta bein' heavy, dat wouldn't do us much good now?'

'Hardly.' Reg Shoe glared through the hatchway. The sky was a dirty yellow blanket, criss–crossed with fire. Thunder boomed continuously.

'I wonder how far the barometer's sunk?' he said.

'All der way,' said Detritus gloomily. 'Trust me on dis.'