Jingo

corporal.”
    “Cor, you know everything, sarge,” said Nobby admiringly. “That’s what hieroglyphs are, is it? So, if we go any deeper, they’ll be loweroglyphs?”
    There was something slightly off-putting about Nobby’s grin. Sergeant Colon decided to go for broke.
    “Don’t be daft, Nobby. ‘Loweroglyphs if you go lower…’ Oh, deary me.”
    “Sorry, sarge.”
    “Everyone knows you don’t get loweroglyphs in these waters.”
    A couple of Curious Squid peered at them, curiously.

    Jenkins’s ship was a floating wreck.
    Several sails were in tatters. Rigging and other string that Vimes refused to learn the nautical names for covered the deck and trailed in the water.
    Such sail as remained was moving them along in the brisk breeze.
    Atop the mast the lookout cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned down.
    “Land ahoy!”
    “Even I can see that,” said Vimes. “Why does he have to shout?”
    “It’s lucky,” said Jenkins. He squinted into the haze. “But your friend ain’t heading for Gebra. Wonder where he’s going?”
    Vimes stared at the pale yellow mass on the horizon, and then up at Carrot.
    “We’ll get her back, don’t worry,” he said.
    “I wasn’t actually worrying, sir. Although I am very concerned,” said Carrot.
    “Er…right…” Vimes waved his arms helplessly. “Er…everyone fit and well? The men in good heart, are they?”
    “It would help morale no end if you were to say a few words, sir.”
    The monstrous regiment of watchmen had lined up on the deck, blinking in the sunshine. Oh, dear. Round up the unusual suspects. One dwarf, one human who was brought up as a dwarf and thinks like a manual of etiquette, one zombie, one troll, me and, oh, no, one religious fanatic—
    Constable Visit saluted. “Permission to speak, sir.”
    “Go ahead,” mumbled Vimes.
    “I’m pleased to tell you, sir, that our mission is clearly divinely approved of, sir. I refer to the rain of sardines which sustained us in our extremity, sir.”
    “We were a little hungry, I wouldn’t say we were in extremi—”
    “With respect, sir,” said Constable Visit firmly, “the pattern is firmly established, sir. Yes, indeed. The Sykoolites when being pursued in the wilderness by the forces of Offlerian Mitolites, sir, were sustained by a rain of celestial biscuits, sir. Chocolate ones, sir.”
    “Perfectly normal phenomenon,” muttered Constable Shoe. “Probably swept up by the wind passing a baker’s shop—”
    Visit glared at him, and went on: “And the Murmurians, when driven into the mountains by the tribes of Miskmik, would not have survived but for a magical rain of elephants, sir—”
    “Elephants?”
    “Well, one elephant, sir,” Visit conceded. “But it splashed.”
    “Perfectly normal phenomenon,” said Constable Shoe. “Probably an elephant was picked up by a freak—”
    “ And when they were thirsty in the desert, sir, the Four Tribes of Khanli were succored by a sudden and supernatural rain of rain, sir.”
    “A rain of rain?” said Vimes, almost mesmerized by Visit’s absolute conviction.
    “Perfectly normal phenomenon,” sneered Reg Shoe. “Probably water was evaporated from the ocean, was blown through the sky, condensed around nuclei when it ran into cold air, and precipitated…” He stopped, and continued irritably, “Anyway, I don’t believe it.”
    “So…which particular deity is on our case?” said Vimes, hopefully.
    “I shall definitely inform you as soon as I have ascertained this, sir.”
    “Er…very good, constable.”
    Vimes took a step back. “I don’t pretend this is going to be easy, men,” he said. “But our mission is to catch up with Angua and this bastard Ahmed and shake the truth out of him. Unfortunately, this means we will be following him through his own country, with which we are at war. This is bound to put a few barriers in our way. But we should not let the prospect of being tortured to death dismay us, eh?”
    “Fortune favors the brave, sir,” said Carrot cheerfully.
    “Good. Good. Pleased to hear it, captain. What is her position vis à vis heavily armed, well prepared and excessively manned armies?”
    “Oh, no one’s ever heard of Fortune favoring them, sir.”
    “According to General Tacticus, it’s because they favor themselves,” said Vimes. He opened the battered book. Bits of paper and string indicated his many bookmarks. “In fact, men, the general has this to say about ensuring against