Jingo

“Is that you, Corporal Littlebottom?” he said.

“Yes, sir. Sergeant Colon has sent a pigeon. I thought you ought to see it, sir.”

“Come in!”

A small roll of thin paper was placed on his desk. He read:

Have volunteered for a mission of Vital Importance. Nobby is here also. There will be statchoos of us when this day's work is over.

PS Someone I can't tell you who says this note will self-destruct in five seconds, he is sorry he hasn't got good chemicles to do it better—

The paper began to crinkle around the edges and then vanished in a small puff of acrid smoke.

Vimes stared at the little pile of ash that remained.

“I suppose it's a mercy they didn't blow up the pigeon, sir,” said Cheery.

“What the hell are they up to? Well, I can't chase around after them. Thanks, Cheery.”

The dwarf saluted and departed.

“Co-incidence,” said Vimes.

“All right, then,” said the demon. “Bingeley-bingeley beep! Three fifteen pee em, Emergency Meeting with Captain Carrot.”

It was a cylinder, tapering to a point at both ends. At one end the taper was quite complex, the cylinder narrowing in a succession of smaller and smaller rings, overlapping one another until they ended in a large fishtail. Oiled leather could be seen gleaming in the gaps between the metal.

At the other end, extending from the cylinder for all the world like the horn of a unicorn, was a very long and pointed screw thread.

The whole thing was mounted on a crude trolley, which was in turn riding on a pair of iron rails that disappeared into the black water at the far end of the boathouse.

“Looks like a giant fish to me,” said Colon. “Made of tin.”

“With an 'orn,” said Nobby.

“It'll never float,” said Colon. “I can see where you've gone wrong there. Everyone knows metal sinks.”

“Not entirely true,” said Leonard, diplomatically. “In any case, this boat is designed to sink.”

“What?”

“Propulsion was a major headache, I'm afraid,” said Leonard, climbing up a stepladder. “I thought of paddles and oars, and even some kind of screw, and then I thought: dolphins, that's the ticket! They move extremely fast with barely an effort. That's out at sea, of course, we only get the shovel-nosed dolphin in our estuary here. The linkage rods are a bit complicated but I used to be able to get quite a turn of speed. The pedalling can be somewhat tiresome, but with three of us we should be able to get up to some quite satisfactory accelerations. It's amazing what you can do when you imitate nature, I just wish my flying exp– Oh… where did you go…?”

It would be difficult to establish what part of satisfactorily accelerating nature the watchmen were trying to imitate, but it was a part which tended to get stuck in doors a lot.

They stopped struggling and began to back into the room.

“Ah, sergeant,” said Lord Vetinari, entering in front of them. “And Corporal Nobbs, too. Leonard has explained everything to you?”

“You can't ask us to go in that thing, sir! It'll be suicide!” said Colon.

The Patrician brought his hands together in front of his lips in the manner of someone praying, and sucked air thoughtfully.

“No. No, I think you are wrong,” he said at last, as if reaching a conclusion on some complex metaphysical conundrum. “I think that, in all probability, going into that thing would be a valiant and possibly rewarding deed. I would venture to suggest that, in fact, it is not going that would be suicidal. But I would appreciate your views.”

Lord Vetinari was not a heavily built man and, these days, he walked with the aid of an ebony cane. No one could remember seeing him handle a weapon, and a flash of unaccustomed insight told Sergeant Colon that this was not in fact a comforting thought at all. They said he's been educated at the Assassins' School, but no one remembered what weapons he'd learned. He'd studied languages. And suddenly, with him in front of you, this didn't seem like the soft option.

Sergeant Colon saluted, always a useful thing to do in an emergency such as this, and shouted: “Corporal Nobbs, why aren't you in the… the metal sinking fish thing?”

“Sarge?”

“Let's see you get up them steps, lad… hup hup hup…”

Nobby scrambled up the ladder and disappeared. Colon saluted again. You could usually tell his nervousness by the smartness of his salute. You could have cut bread with this one.

“Ready to go, sah!” he shouted.

“Well done, sergeant,” said Vetinari. “You're displaying exactly those special qualities I'm looking for—”

“'ere, sarge,” came a metallic voice from the belly of the fish, “there's all chains and cogwheels in here. What's this do?” The big auger in front of the thing started to squeak round.

Leonard appeared from behind the fish.

“I think we should all get in,” he said. “I've lit the candle that'll burn down and sever the string that'll release the weight that'll pull the blocks out.”

“Er… what is this thing called?” said Colon, as he followed the Patrician up the ladder.