
'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.