“They stole my merchandise!” shouted a speaker opposite him. “It's a pirate bloody empire! I was boarded! In Ankh-Morpork waters!”

There was a general self-righteous muttering.

“What did they steal, Mr Jenkins?” said a voice from the crowd.

“A cargo of fine silks!”

The crowd hissed.

“Ah? Not dried fish offal and condemned meat, then? That's your normal cargo, I believe.”

Mr Jenkins strained to look for the speaker.

“Fine silks!” he said. “And what does the city care about that? Nothing!”

There were shouts of “Shame!”

“Has the city been told?” said the enquiring voice.

People started to crane their heads. And then the crowd opened a little, to reveal the figure of Commander Vimes of the City Watch.

“Well, it's… I…” Jenkins began. “Er… I…”

“I care,” said Vimes calmly. “Shouldn't be too hard to track down a cargo of fine silks that stink of fish guts.” There was laughter. Ankh-Morpork people always like some variety in their street theatre.

Vimes apparently spoke to Sergeant Detritus, while keeping his gaze locked on Jenkins. “Detritus, just you go along with Mr Jenkins here, will you? His ship is the Milka

There was a clang as Detritus's huge hand came to rest against his helmet.

“Yessir!”

“Er… er… you can't,” said Jenkins quickly. “They… er… stole the paperwork as well…”

“Really? So they can take the stuff back to the shop if it doesn't fit?”

“Er… anyway, the ship's sailed. Yes! Sailed! Got to try and recoup my losses, you know!”

“Sailed? Without its captain?” said Vimes. “So Mr Scoplett is in charge? Your first officer?”

“Yes, yes—”

“Damn!” said Vimes, snapping his fingers theatrically. “That man we've got in the cells on a charge of being Naughtily Drunk last night… we're going to have to charge him with impersonation as well, then? I don't know, more blasted paperwork, the stuff just piles up…”