'A change of plan, then,' said Cadram. 'Ankh–Morpork can wait.'
'A wise move, sire. As always.'
'Any news of my poor brother?'
'Alas no, sire.'
'Our agents must search harder. The world is watching, Ashal.'
'Correct, sire.'
'Sarge?'
'Yes, Nobby?'
'Tell me again about our special qualities.'
'Shut up and keep pedalling, Nobby.'
'Right, sarge.' It was quite dark in the Boat. A candle swung from a bracket over Leonard of Quirm's bowed head as he sat steering with two levers. Around Nobby, pulleys rattled and little chains clicked. It was like being inside a sewing machine. A damp one, too. Condensation dropped off the ceiling in a steady stream. They had been pedalling for ten minutes. Leonard had spent most of the time talking excitedly. Nobby got the impression he didn't get out much. He talked about everything. There were the tanks of air, for example. Nobby was happy to accept that you could squeeze air up really
small, and that was what was in the groaning, creaking steel–bound casks strapped to the walls. It was what happened to the air afterwards that came as a surprise. 'Bubbles!' said Leonard. 'Dolphins again, you see? They don't swim through the water, they fly through a cloud of bubbles. Which is much easier, of course. I add a little soap, which seems to improve matters.'
'He thinks dolphins fly, sarge,' whispered Nobby. 'Just keep pedalling.' Sergeant Colon risked a glance behind him. Lord Vetinari was sitting on an upturned box amidst the clicking chains, with several of Leonard's sketches open on his knees. 'Carry on, sergeant,' said the Patrician. 'Right, sir.' The Boat was moving faster now they were away from the city. There was even a brackish light filtering through the little glass windows. 'Mr Leonard,' said Nobby. 'Yes?'
'Where're we going?'
'His lordship wishes to go to Leshp.'
'Yes, I thought it'd be something like that,' said Nobby. 'I thought: “Where don't I want to go?” And the answer just popped into my head, just like that. Only I don't think we'll get there, the reason bein', in about another five minutes my knees are going to fall off. ..'
'Oh, my word, you won't have to pedal all the way,' said Leonard. 'What did you think the big auger on the nose is for?'
'That?' said Nobby. 'I thought that was for drillin' into the bottom of enemy ships–'
'What?' Leonard spun around in his seat, a look of horror on his face. 'Sink ships? Sink ships? With people on them?'
'Well... yes...'
'Corporal Nobbs, I think you are a very misguided young... man,' said Leonard stiffly. 'Use the Boat to sink ships? That would be terrible! In any case, no sailor would dream of doing such a dishonourable thing!'
'Sorry.. 'The auger, I would have you know, is for attaching us to passing ships in the manner of the remora, the sucker–fish which attaches itself to sharks. A few turns is all that is necessary for a firm attachment.'
'So... you couldn't bore all the way through the hull, then?'
'Only if you were a very careless and extremely thoughtless young man!' The ocean waves may not be ploughable, but the crust of the river Ankh downstream from the city was known to sprout small bushes in the summertime. The Milka moved slowly, leaving a furrow behind it. 'Can't you go faster?' said Vimes.
'Why, certainly,' said Jenkins nastily. 'Where would you like us to put the extra mast?'
'The ship's just a dot,' said Carrot. 'Why aren't we gaining on them?'
'It's a bigger ship so it has got what we technically call more sails,' said Jenkins. 'And they're fast hulls on those Klatchian boats. And we've got a full hold–' He stopped, but it was too late. 'Captain Carrot?' said Vimes. ‘Sir?'
'Throw everything overboard,' said Vimes. 'Not the crossbows! They cost more than a hundred dollars ea–' Jenkins stopped. Vimes's expression said, very clearly, that there were a whole lot of things that could be thrown off the boat, and it would be a good idea not to be among them. 'Go and pull some ropes, Mr Jenkins,' he said. He watched the captain stamp off. A few moments later there was a splash. Vimes looked over the side and saw a crate bob for a moment and then sink. And he felt happy. Thief–taker, Rust had called him. The man had meant it as an insult, but it'd do. Theft was the only crime, whether the loot was gold, innocence, land or life. And for the thieftaker, there was the chase... There were several more splashes. Vimes fancied the ship surged forward. ... the chase. Because the chase was simpler than the capture. Once you'd caught someone it got complicated, but the chase was pure and free. Much better than prodding at clues and peering at notebooks. He flees, I chase. Simple. Vetinari's terrier, eh? 'Bingeley–bingeley beep!' said his pocket. 'Don't tell me,' said Vimes. 'It's something like “Five pee em, At Sea,” yes?'
'Er... no,' said the Dis–organizer. 'Says here “Violent Row With Lord Rust”, Insert Name Here.'
'Aren't you supposed to tell me what I'm going to do?' said Vimes, opening the box. 'Er... what you should be doing,' said the demon, looking very worried. 'What you should be doing. I don't understand it... er... something seems to be wrong...' Angua stopped trying to rub the collar off against a bulkhead. It wasn't working, and the silver pressing against her skin seemed to freeze her and burn her at the same time. Apart from that – and a silver collar on a werewolf was a fairly major that – she'd been treated well. They'd left a plate of food, a wooden plate, and she'd let her wolf side eat it while the human side shut its eyes and held its nose.