Jingo

sarge.”
    “It puts me in mind,” said Leonard, “of those nautical stories about giant turtles that sleep on the surface, thus causing sailors to think they are an island. Of course, you don’t get giant turtles that small.”
    “Hey, Mr. Quirm, this is an amazing boat,” said Nobby.
    “Thank you.”
    “I bet you could even smash up ships with it if you wanted.”
    There was an embarrassed silence.
    “Altogether an interesting experience,” said Lord Vetinari, making some notes. “And now, gentlemen—downward and onward, please…”

    The watchmen drew their weapons.
    “They’re D’regs, sir,” said Carrot. “But—this is all wrong…”
    “What do you mean?”
    “We’re not dead yet.”
    They’re watching us like cats watch mice, thought Vimes. We can’t run away and we can’t win a fight, and they want to see what we’ll do next.
    “What does General Tacticus have to say about this, sir?” said Carrot.
    There’s a hundred of them, thought Vimes. And six of us. Except that Detritus is drifting off and there’s no knowing what particular commandment Visit is obeying right now and Reg’s arms tend to drop off when he gets excited—
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably something on the lines of Don’t Allow This to Happen.”
    “Why don’t you check, sir?” said Carrot, not taking his eyes off the watching D’regs.
    “What?”
    “I said, why don’t you check, sir?”
    “Right now?”
    “It might be worth a try, sir.”
    “That’s crazy, captain.”
    “Yes, sir. The D’regs have some very strange notions about crazy people, sir.”
    Vimes pulled out the battered book. The D’reg nearest to him, with a grin almost as wide and as curved as his sword, had a certain additional swagger that suggested chieftainship. A huge ancient crossbow was slung on his back.
    “I say!” said Vimes. “Could we just delay things a little?” He strode toward the man, who looked very surprised, and waved the book in the air. “This is a book by General Tacticus, don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him, quite a big name in these parts once, probably slaughtered your great-great-great-great-grandfather in fact, and I just want to take a moment to see what he has to say about this situation. You don’t mind, do you?”
    The man gave Vimes a puzzled look.
    “This may take a moment, there’s no index, but I think I saw something—”
    The chieftain took a step backward and looked at the men next to him, who shrugged.
    “I wonder if you could help me with this word here?” Vimes went on, reaching the man’s side and holding the book under his nose. He got another puzzled grin.
    What Vimes did next was known in Ankh-Morpork’s alleyways as the Friendly Handshake, and consisted largely of driving his elbow into the man’s stomach, then bringing his knee up to meet the man’s chin on its way down, gritting his own teeth because of the pain in both knee and ankle, and then drawing his sword and holding it to the D’reg’s throat before he could scramble up.
    “Now, captain,” said Vimes, “I’d like you to say in a loud clear voice that unless they back off a really long way, this gentleman here is going to be in some very serious legal trouble.”
    “Mr. Vimes, I don’t think—”
    “Do it!”
    The D’reg looked into his eyes while Carrot hawked his way through the demand. The man was still grinning.
    Vimes couldn’t risk shifting his gaze, but he sensed some puzzlement and confusion among the tribesmen.
    Then, as one man, they charged.

    A Klatchian fishing boat, whose captain knew which way the wind was blowing, made its way back to the harbor of Al-Khali. It seemed to the captain that, despite the favorable wind, he wasn’t making quite the speed he should. He put it down to barnacles.

    Vimes awoke with a noseful of camel. There are far worse awakenings, but not as many as you might think.
    By turning his head, which took some effort, he ascertained that the camel was sitting down. By the sound of things, it was digesting something explosive.
    Now, how had he got here…Oh, gods…
    But it should have worked…It was classic . You threatened to cut off the head and the body just folded up. That was how everyone reacted, wasn’t it? That was practically how civilization worked…
    Put it down to cultural differences, then.
    On the other hand, he wasn’t dead. According to Carrot, knowing the D’regs for five minutes and still being alive at the end of it meant