'So what're you going to do when we catch them?'
'Er. ..'Vimes hadnt given this a lot of thought. But he recalled a very bad woodcut he'd once seen in a book about pirates. 'We'll swing across on to them with our cutlasses in our teeth?' he said. 'Really?' said Jenkins. 'That's good. I haven't seen that done in years. Only ever seen it done once, in fact.'
'Oh, yes?'
'Yes, this lad'd seen the idea in a book and he swung across into the other ship's rigging with his cutlass clenched, as you say, between his teeth.'
'Yes?'
'Topless Harry, we wrote on his coffin.'
'Oh.'
'I don't know if you've ever seen a soft–boiled egg after you've picked up your knife and sli–'
'All right, I see the point. What do you suggest?'
'Grapnels. You can't beat grapnels. Catch 'em on the other ship and just pull 'em towards you.'
'And you've got grapnels?'
'Oh, yes. Saw some only today, in fact.'
'Good. Then–'
'As I recall,' Jenkins went on relentlessly, 'it was when your Sergeant Detritus was chucking stuff over the side and he said, “What shall we do with dese bendy, hooky things, sir?” and someone, can't recall his name just at this minute, said, “They're dead weight, throw them over.”'
'Why didn't you say something?'
'Oh, well, I didn't like to,' said Jenkins. 'You were doing so well.'
'Don't mess me about, captain. Otherwise I'll clap you in irons.'
'No, you ain't going to do that, and I'll tell you why. First, 'cos when Captain Carrot said, “These chains, sir, what shall I do with them?” you said–'
'Now, you listen to–'
'–and, second, I don't reckon you know anything about ships, oh deary me. We don't clap people in irons, we put them in chains. Do you know how to splice the mainbrace? 'Cos I don't. All that yohoho stuff's for landlubbers, or it would be if we ever used words like landlubber. Do you know the difference between port and starboard? I don't. I've never even drunk starboard. Shiver my timber!'
'Isn't it “shiver my timbers”?'
'I've been ill.' Captain Jenkins spun the wheel. 'Also, this is a frisky wind and me and my crew know how to pull the strings that make the big square canvas things work properly. If your men tried it you'd soon find out how far it is to land.'
'How far is it to land?'
'About thirty fathoms, hereabouts.'
The light was noticeably nearer. 'Bingeley–bingeley beep!'
'Good grief, what now?' said Vimes. 'Eight pee em. Er... Narrowly Escape Assassination by Klatchian Spy?' Vimes went cold. 'Where?' he said, looking around wildly. 'Corner of Brewer Street and Broadway,' said the little sing–song voice. 'But I'm not there!'
'What's the point of having appointments, then? What's the point of my making an effort? You told me you wanted to know what you ought to–'
'Listen, you don't have an appointment for being assassinated!' The demon went silent for a moment, and then said: 'You mean it should be on your To Do list?' Its voice was trembling. 'You mean like: “To Do: Die”?'
'Look, it's no good taking it out on me just because you're not on the right time line!'
'What the hell does that mean?'