The Last Continent

consider our survival in unknown, shark-infested waters, will you?”
    “Should we swim for the shore?” said Mrs. Whitlow. “Ai was good at swimming as a gel.”
    Ridcully gave her a warm smile. “All in good time, Mrs. Whitlow,” he said. “But your suggestion has been taken aboard.”
    “It’s going to be the only thing that is, in a minute,” said Ponder.
    “And what exactly will your role be, Archchancellor?” the Dean snarled.
    “I have defined your objectives,” said Ridcully. “It is up to you to consider the options.”
    “In that case,” said the Dean, “I move that we abandon ship.”
    “What for?” said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. “The sharks?”
    “That is a secondary problem,” said the Dean.
    “That’s right,” said Ponder, “we can always vote to abandon shark.”
    The ship lurched suddenly. The Senior Wrangler struck a heroic pose.
    “I will save you, Mrs. Whitlow!” he cried, and swept her off her feet. Or, at least, made the effort. But the Senior Wrangler was lightly built for a wizard and Mrs. Whitlow was a fine figure of a woman and, furthermore, the wizard’s grip was limited by the fact that there were very few areas of Mrs. Whitlow that he dared actually touch. He did his best with some outlying regions and managed to lift her slightly. All this did was transfer the entire weight of wizard and housekeeper to the Senior Wrangler’s quite small feet, which went through the deck like a steel bar.
    The boat, dry as tinder now, soft as wood punk, fell apart very gently.
    The water was extremely cold. Spray filled the air as they struggled. A piece of wreckage hit Ponder on the head and pushed him under, into a blue world where his ears went gloing-gloing .
    When he struggled to the surface again this noise turned out to be an argument. Once again, the sheer magic of Unseen University triumphed. When treading water in a circle of sharks, a wizard will always consider other wizards to be the most immediate danger.
    “Don’t blame me ! He was…well, I think he was asleep!”
    “You think ?”
    “He was a mattress. A red one!”
    “He’s the only Librarian we’ve got! How could you be so thoughtless!” shouted Ridcully. He took a deep breath, and dived.
    “Abandon sea!” shouted the Bursar cheerfully.
    Ponder shuddered as something big and black and streamlined rose out of the water in front of him. It sank back into the foam and flopped over.
    Other shapes were bobbing to the surface all around the frantically treading wizards. The Dean tapped one.
    “Well, these sharks don’t seem anything like as dangerous as I expected,” he said.
    “They’re the seeds out of the boat!” said Ponder. “Get on top of them, quickly!”
    He was sure that something had brushed his leg. In those circumstances, a man finds unexpected agility. Even the Dean managed to get aboard a board, after a revolving, foamy period when man and seed fought for supremacy.
    Ridcully surfaced in a shower of spray. “It’s no good!” he spluttered. “I went down as far as I could. There’s no sign of him!”
    “Try and get on a seed, Archchancellor, do,” said the Senior Wrangler.
    Ridcully flailed at a passing shark. “They won’t attack you if you make a lot of noise and splash around,” he said.
    “I thought that’s when they will attack you, sir,” Ponder called out.
    “Ah, an interesting practical experiment,” said the Dean, craning to watch.
    Ridcully hauled himself on to one of the seeds. “What a mess. I suppose we can float to land, though,” he said. “Er…where’s Mrs. Whitlow, gentlemen?”
    They looked around.
    “Oh, no…” the Senior Wrangler moaned. “She’s swimming for the shore…”
    They followed his gaze, and could just see a hairdo moving jerkily yet determinedly towards the shore in what Ridcully would probably have referred to as a chest stroke.
    “I don’t call that very practical,” said the Dean.
    “What about the sharks?”
    “Well, they’re swimming around under us , in fact,” said the Senior Wrangler, as the seeds rocked.
    Ponder looked down. “They appear to be leaving now that we’re not dangling our legs in the water,” he said. “They’re heading…for the shore, too.”
    “Well, she knew the risks when she got the job,” said the Dean.
    “What?” said the Senior Wrangler. “Are you saying that before you apply for the job of housekeeper of a university you should seriously consider being eaten by sharks on