Master and Commander (Aubrey & Maturin, #1)

by Patrick O'Brian

‘Up all hammocks’. He heard a rushing of feet and a great terrible voice calling ‘All hands, all hands ahoy! Out or down! Out or down! Rouse and bitt! Rise and shine! Show a leg there! Out or down! Here I come, with a sharp knife and a clear conscience!’ He heard three muffled dumps as three sleep-sodden landmen were, in fact, cut down: he heard oaths, laughter, the impact of a rope’s end as a bosun’s mate started a torpid, bewildered hand, and then a far greater trampling as fifty or sixty men rushed up the hatchways with their hammocks, to stow them in the nettings.

Perhaps the best alarm clock is to have a guy walk around the corner with a knife, and cut the rope that suspends your hammock.

‘You do not need a head, nor even a heart, to be all a female can require.’

‘The infamous brute to strike a woman,’ said James aloud. ‘To think we have to mess with such a fellow.’ ‘You wait till you’re married, Mr Dillon,’ said the purser, with a chuckle.