A Series of Mistakes

The Second Mistake

Ankh-Morpork! Pearl of cities! This is not a completely accurate description, of course – it was not round and shiny – but even its worst enemies would agree that if you had to liken Ankh-Morpork to anything, then it might as well be a piece of rubbish covered with the diseased secretions of a dying mollusc. -- Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic

It turned out that travelling by boat was a very slow method of getting anywhere. By the end of the first day they were still over ninety miles from Morlangor. On the second day they encountered a series of locks. Those delayed them so much that they only travelled eight miles. Brigitta was horrified to discover the boat could go no faster than four miles per hour.

"But it's got to go faster than that!" she protested. "It'll take us all year to get there at this rate!"

James sighed wearily. "It can go faster, but at the risk of damaging the engine or losing control. And it won't take us all year. We'll be there in about a week."

By lunchtime of the second day a new and even worse problem presented itself. Hal and Brigitta had made their plans calculating on buses and trains for their transportation. They had brought enough food to last them a week, but only enough water to last three days. Now it was running out. And the boat's water tank was almost empty.

Hal asked James about that.

"It would have been refilled at Ilfreycombe," said James, "but you came along before it could be done."

Wonderful. Just wonderful, Brigitta thought sourly. "Where's the nearest town?"

James checked the map. "It's five miles away. I'll have to find somewhere to moor the boat along the bank."

This made little sense to Brigitta. "Why don't we just go to one of the piers?"

James gained the long-suffering expression that indicated she had just said something very stupid. "Because this boat will have been reported stolen. While we're sailing around there's a good chance no one will look at us long enough to recognise her, but if we go to a pier everyone will see her name and become suspicious."

Hal's eyes widened. "Will the police be looking for us?"

"The police in Ilfreycombe? Probably. The police everywhere else? They have their own local problems to sort out. They'll mostly likely ignore us unless we do something to attract their attention. No, we're much more likely to be spotted by the crew of some other boat, and the best way for that to happen is to moor beside them."

After sailing on for a while they came across a place where a willow tree leant over the riverbank. James steered the boat under the willow's drooping branches and tied it to the tree-trunk.

"There. Now we're as hidden as we'll ever be."

The three of them set off for the town on foot. Hal had the money and as he went along he muttered to himself about the probable cost of a good meal in a restaurant. Brigitta's thoughts turned to the newspapers instead. Would news of the stolen boat have reached the press? As for James, only he knew what he thought about, because he stayed as silent as the grave the whole way there.

When they reached the town Brigitta spotted a newsagents and made a beeline for it. She scanned the papers on the stand outside while Hal and James went into the shop. What she saw made her stare in disbelief. Printed on the front cover of every paper there were two photos. One of herself, one of Hal. Neither of them was a particularly flattering picture. Apparently they were both from the party their landlady threw at the end of every year. Brigitta's mouth was wide open as she took a bite of cake and Hal was scrunching his face up as if he was about to sneeze.