Jingo

snoring.
    “How can anyone sleep in this ?” said Reg Shoe.
    “Captain Carrot can,” said Cheery. She was hacking at something with her ax.
    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 fisherman 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.”

    It was in the nature of a D’reg to open doors carefully. There was generally an enemy on the other side. Sooner or later.
    He saw the collar lying on the floor, right by a little fountain of water trickling from the hull, and swore under his breath.
    Ahmed waited just a moment, and then pushed the door back quickly. It rattled against the wall.
    “I don’t intend to harm you,” he said to the gloom of the bilges. “If that was my intention, by now you’d—”
    She wished she’d used the wolf. There would have been no problem with the wolf. That was the problem. She’d easily win, but then she’d be nervy and frightened. A human could stay on top of that. A wolf might not. She’d do the wrong things, panicky things, animal things.
    She pushed him hard as she dropped down from above the door, somersaulted backward, slammed the door and turned the key.
    The sword came through the planking like a hot knife through runny lard.
    There was a gasp beside her. She spun round and saw two men holding a net. They would have thrown it over the wolf. What they hadn’t been expecting was a naked woman. The sudden appearance of a naked woman always causes a rethink of anyone’s immediate plans.
    She kicked them both hard and ran in the opposite direction, opened the first door at random and slammed it behind her.
    It was the cabin with the dogs in it. They sprang to their feet, opened their mouths—and slunk down again. A werewolf can have considerable power over other animals, whatever shape she’s in, although it is largely the power to make them cringe and try to look inedible.
    She hurried past them and pulled at one of the hangings over the bunk.
    The man in the bunk opened his eyes. He was a Klatchian, but pale with weakness and pain. There were dark rings under his eyes.
    “Ah,” he said, “it would appear that I have died and gone to Paradise. Are you a houri ?”
    “I don’t have to