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: Sir? Your Deaconship? Good day! Or night. Whatever the case may be... Deacon
: What is it? I'm a busy man. Depth Gauge
: I thought you should know. There's exactly nine feet and four inches of THE BLACK STUFF...
[the Deacon spits on the Depth Gauge's head
] Depth Gauge
: Oh, thank you!
: [Sees the Mariner's lit flare about to fall on the oil. An end to his miserable existence
] Oh, thank God!