Jingo

“I see it, Dad.”

“It's a land of opportunity.”

“But there's no fresh water and all the ground's full of salt, Dad, and it smells bad!”

“That's the smell of freedom, that is.”

“Smells like someone did a really big fart, Dad— Ow!”

“Sometimes the two are very similar! And it's your future I'm thinking of, lad!”

Les looked at the acres of decomposing seaweed in front of him.

He was learning to be a fisherman like his father before him because that's how the family had always done it and he was too good-natured to argue, although he actually wanted to be a painter like no one in the family had ever been before. He was noticing things, and they worried him even though he couldn't quite say why.

But the buildings didn't look right. Here and there were definite bits of, well, architecture, like Morporkian pillars and the remains of Klatchian arches, but they'd been added to buildings that looked as though some ham- fisted people had just piled rocks on top of one another. And then in other places the slabs had been stacked on top of ancient brick walls and tiled floors. He couldn't imagine who'd done the tiling, but they did like pictures of octopussies.

The feeling was stealing over him that Morporkians and Klatchians arguing over who owned this piece of old sea bottom was extremely pointless.

“Er… I'm thinking about my future too, Dad,” he said. “I really am.”

Far below Solid Jackson's feet, the Boat surfaced. Sergeant Colon reached automatically for the screws that held the lid shut.

“Don't open it, sergeant!” shouted Leonard, rising from his seat.

“The air's getting pretty lived-in, sir.”

“It's worse outside.”

“Worse than in here?”

“I'm almost certain.”

“But we're on the surface!”

“A surface, sergeant,” said Lord Vetinari. Beside him, Nobby uncorked the seeing device and peered through it.

“We're in a cave?” said Colon.

“Er… sarge…” said Nobby.

“Capital! Well worked out,” said Lord Vetinari. “Yes. A cave. You could say that.”

“Er… sarge?” said Nobby again, nudging Colon. “This isn't a cave, sarge! It's bigger than a cave, sarge!”

“What, you mean… like a cavern?”

“Bigger!”

“Bigger'n a cavern? More like a… big cavern?”

“Yeah, that'd be about right,” said Nobby, taking his eye away from the device. “Have a look yourself, sarge.”

Sergeant Colon peered into the tube.

Instead of the darkness he was half expecting, he saw the sea's surface, bubbling like a boiling saucepan. Green and yellow flashes of lightning danced across the water, illuminating a distant wall that seemed practically a horizon…

The tube squeaked around. If this was a cave, it was at least a couple of miles across.

“How long, do you think?” said Lord Vetinari, behind him.

“Well, the rock has a large proportion of tufa and pumice, very light, and once floated up the build-up of gas starts to escape very rapidly because of the swell,” said Leonard. “I don't know… perhaps another week… and then I think it takes a very long time for a sufficient bubble to build up again…”

“What're they saying, sarge?” said Nobby. “This place floats?”

“A most unusual natural phenomenon,” Leonard went on. “I'd have thought it was just a legend had I not seen it for myself…”

“Of course it's not floating,” said Sergeant Colon. “Honestly, Nobby, how're you ever going to find out anything when you ask daft questions like that? Land's heavier than water, right? That's why you find it at the bottom of the sea.”

“Yes, but he said pumice, and my gran had a pumice stone that worked a treat for getting tough skin off'f your feet in the tub and that'd float—”

“That sort of thing happens in bath tubs maybe,” said Colon. “Not in real life. This is just a phenomena. It's not real. Next thing you'll be saying there's rocks up in the sky.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I am a sergeant, Nobby.”

“Yes, 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.^{75} 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, 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 towards 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 might take a moment, there's no index, but I think I saw something—”