The Borribles

by Michael Larrabeiti

  Dodger stood up and strapped on his watch, saying, "I wouldn't mind, I've got something I want to do."

  "Right," said Spiff. "That's settled, thanks again," and he left the room whistling.

  When he'd gone Dodger coughed and looked at Knocker. "Hmm," he said after another cough, "I'd better go then. Cheerio, Knocker. Come down the Northcote in a day or two, stay with me. Good market we've got down there. It'll make a change for you, you know."

  When Knocker just sighed Dodger said, "Cheer up, it's only right that every Borrible should get a chance."

  "I know," said Knocker, "but adventures like this one don't happen every day of the week. Still, I'll be better once they're gone. I'll come down to you in a few days. I've been through the Northcote, never stayed, we'll have a laugh. We had a laugh here, come to think of it."

  "We did that," agreed Dodger. "See you soon, eh—and don't get caught." And with that traditional farewell he went.

  Knocker had a miserable afternoon and evening. He checked the haversacks over and over again just to give himself something to do. He meandered and mooched about the store-room until at last he went upstairs and rested on his bed in the room which he shared with Lightfinger. He hadn't seen Lightfinger for ages. How long ago it seemed, that night when they had found the Rumbles in Battersea Park and had captured one. How much had happened since then; now everything was ready. He gazed at the ceiling until he dozed and the noises of the street sounded further and further away.

  It was dark when he awoke and he felt very cold, having neglected to creep under his blankets. He sat up and shook himself and rubbed his body vigorously to get the blood running warmly. Getting to his feet he groped for the light switch. What time could it be? Not that the others needed him any more but he would have liked to have seen them off. Hoping they hadn't gone already he made for the stairs and ran down.

  On the landing he bumped into Spiff who was coming from his room with some papers in his hand. "Aha, there you are, Knocker," he said and beamed at the chief lookout. He was apt to make obvious remarks, was Spiff, but he only did it when he was feeling very friendly or pleased with himself. "Got your lads downstairs, just going to give them a word or two, can you come down?"

  " 'Course," answered Knocker and followed Spiff to the basement.

  The Eight were all present and correct. They too had had a restless time, though they had tried their hardest to sleep ready for the rigours of the night.

  They looked very soldier-like, thought Knocker as he examined them. Warmly dressed, their hats cocked jauntily over their ears, they stood tense and straight, glancing occasionally at their watches or compasses. Most impressive and warlike of all were the double bandoliers of stones they wore and the shiny and lethal catapults stuck into their pockets. The Adventurers shone with health, their skins glowing, but they could not conceal their impatience. They wanted Spiff to say what he had to say and then let them get on with it.

  Spiff rustled his papers. "You'll be off in a minute, then, so I won't keep you long. Your haversacks are all here ready, everything you need. Before you go, I just want to remind you of the object of your expedition. Whatever happens you must not forget it. It is to knock out the Rumble High Command, eliminate them. We want no more of them in our part of London. They must be shown that they can't come down here whenever they think they will and move on to our manor. Whatever happens to you, and we all know the dangers you face, if you eliminate your target, your name will be confirmed and remembered. You have the luck to be going on the greatest Adventure anyone has ever heard of. I wish I could come with you, but that of course is not possible. Finally, I would like to congratulate you on the way you have put up with the ardours of the training period—and with Knocker."

  Everyone laughed politely and Knocker shuffled his feet and wished Spiff would stop making a speech and let everyone go.

  But Spiff hadn't finished. "You've a long way to travel, a dangerous way, and a difficult, perhaps impossible task to accomplish and I'm sure I speak for all Borribles when I wish you the best of luck. And don't get caught."

  Knocker and Spiff watched as the Eight Adventurers stepped forward with relief to pick up their rucksacks. With a nod for Spiff and a nervous smile for Knocker they left the room one by one. The last to leave was Napoleon. He stood by the open door, looking trim and dangerous, his eyes were bright and excited. His face broke into a cocky and unpleasant smile. "Sorry you ain't coming, Knocker," he said triumphantly, and he slid silently out into the darkness.

  Knocker rushed across the room and shoved the door hard with his foot so that it slammed noisily.

  Spiff sat down at the table and looked at Knocker's back while he opened the enormous Rule Book he'd been reading in his room that morning. "Come this way, Knocker," he said. "I've got your present over here."

  "Stuff the present," said Knocker ungraciously. Then he turned round, came over to the table and sat down opposite Spiff, mumbling a barely audible, "Sorry."

  Spiff ignored the apology as he had done the insult. "Well, here it is," he said. "I'm going to read it to you, only once, so you'd better listen, lovely bit of poetry this is." He licked his lips and glanced up at the clouded face that Knocker was presenting to him. "This is from The Borrible Book of Rules , para. 34, subsection 3a. I quote, 'No Borrible who is already named may go on any name adventure whatsoever, he may not even go on a non-name adventure if a Borrible who has no name wished to take precedence. This rule is unalterable and no exceptions may be made at all, ever.' "

  Spiff drew a breath and ran his finger to a note at the bottom of the page.

  " 'Except for the following exceptions.' " He pursed his lips to stop from smiling as Knocker looked up sharply.

  " 'One. A named Borrible may take part in a name adventure when no other un-named Borrible is available. The choosing of the named Borrible in such a case will be by drawing lots.' "

  Knocker looked down at the table again.

  Spiff went on. " 'A named Borrible may take part in a name adventure when a vacancy occurs through accident or injury at the last moment and there is no time to draw lots.' " Spiff looked up. "That's a very useful one that is, very useful. Do you know, I've got five names myself, five adventures I've had, never believe it to look at me, would you? Oh yes, you have to know yer way round the old rule book, can't break the rules until you know the rules, but let's get down to exception 7/2. It's one I haven't used before." He coughed and put on a special voice. " 'When an expedition is considered to be exceptional and outstanding, a quorum of elected representatives may choose an "Observer or Historian" to accompany the expedition to record its deeds. He may act in an advisory capacity only, taking no part in the actual adventure, be it fighting or stealing, etc. etc.' ". He paused for effect, " '—until such time as all members of the adventure have won their names by performing the tasks allotted to them. At that time the Observer-Historian becomes equal with the expedition and may join entirely in the expedition. It is understood that during the expedition the Observer keeps a record of the deeds of each of the expedition's members for entry into the records on return.' "

  Spiff closed the book with a bang and looked at Knocker who was dying to smile and laugh and shout all at the same time but didn't want to in case he'd misunderstood.

  Spiff winked and jerked his head in his crafty old way. "How would you like to be an Observer-Historian, Knocker? Never been one of those, have you?"

  "No," said Knocker breathlessly, his heart thumping.

  "Well, we need a quorum to approve the appointment, that's four in this case." Spiff gave a yell and the door opened and three stewards from houses further up the High Street entered the room. Without turning his head Spiff said, "All in favour say 'Aye.' "

  "Aye," said the three Borribles together, then they did an about turn and left the room, closing the door behind them.

  "Gotta keep it legal," said Spiff, jerking his head yet again.

  He rose to his feet. "Right, Knocker, your
clothes are in the cupboard, and a knapsack, everything's there, I did it myself. Get changed. Don't want you to miss the boat, eh? Ho, ho!"

  Knocker dashed into the cupboard and threw off his every-day clothes and got into the set of expedition gear that was hanging ready behind the door. As he changed in great haste Spiff talked to him, for he had much to say before Knocker left.

  "Don't worry," he began with a chuckle, "they don't know you're coming but they won't go without you. I sent Lightfinger down there with some cock-and-bull story. He won't let them away till you arrive." Spiff was silent for a minute or two, watching Knocker's preparation with more attention than the event deserved. "Do you want to know the real reason why you're going?" he asked at last.

  Something in Spiff's manner made Knocker stop tying his bootlaces and he listened intently, observing that the steward's voice had lost its normal speechifying tone.

  "Real reason?" he queried.

  "Yes, the real reason. Look, you will have to be Historian, write it all down when you get back and all that load of old cobblers, but it don't really matter, see, long as it looks like you obey the rules, but as soon as they have won their names or look like winning their names, brother, you move."

  "Move?"

  "Double fast," Spiff said, his sharp expression getting sharper. "If you read the Rumble manuals really closely, like I have, and do, you find that they hint about some money they've got hidden somewhere, tons of it. We need that money down here, Knocker, and you're the Borrible to get it. You've gone through the same training as the others, you're a first-class shot with the catapult, you can run like a thirty-four tram, and you've got experience and expertise. You won't do anything rash, though you'll do what's needed when it is. Moreover, I know that you want a second name more than anything on earth. That's why you're going, Knocker, that's why I've been going through the Rule Book. Bring that money back here, son, where it belongs, but whatever you do, don't tell anyone what you're up to, especially Wazzisname Boot. He may be all right, he may not. I know that lot along the Wan-die. Above all, watch out for one called Flinthead. If you get on the wrong side of him, your life won't be worth a fart."

  Knocker's face paled, not with fear but with anticipation. "But this is an Adventure within an Adventure," he said, coming closer to Spiff.

  "That's right, Knocker, it is. I'll see you get your second name all right, but it's going to be bleedin' dangerous and don't think it isn't."

  As Knocker checked the contents of his haversack, Spiff told him a lot more things, secret things that no one was to know but the two of them, and Spiff emphasised again and again that Knocker was to share these secrets with no other member of the expedition, otherwise disaster would surely follow.

  At last Knocker struggled into his haversack straps and stood impatiently by the door.

  "A second name, eh? I'd best be away then."

  "That's about the size and shape of it," said the steward.

  Knocker opened the door and saw outside the dark, exciting night. He looked round one last time. "Goodnight, Spiff, and thanks. Don't get caught."

  "Don't you get bloody well caught," said the steward, gruffly, and then Knocker stepped out into the basement area and closed the door behind him.

  Once in the street he looked up through a fine rain to the few stars in the sky and thanked his lucky ones. Then he took a deep breath and ran with a loping stride down the High Street and towards Battersea Church, the knapsack bumping on his back. The streets were empty and shone damply in the reflected light of the street lamps. The sound of his footsteps echoed energetically from the wet walls of the black buildings and Knocker's heart sang and bubbled within him; he could still not believe it. He was going, going on the best expedition he'd ever heard of.

  About twenty yards from the churchyeard he stopped running and listened carefully. He didn't want any trouble at this stage. Lightfinger rose from behind a dustbin.

  "Knocker," he whispered.

  "Knocker," answered the chief lookout.

  "It's okay, over here."

  Knocker went forward and patted Lightfinger on the shoulder. "I'm going," he said.

  "I know," answered Lightfinger. "You must have lost your marbles. This expedition is madness."

  Knocker crossed the churchyard and climbed onto the wall and looked down at the water. The boat was there, rocking gently in the slight swell that came from midstream; the oars were out and Napoleon was giving gentle commands to keep the boat from banging against The Raven. The water lapped at the sides of The Silver Belle Flower and the scum and muck on the water grated against the embankment. Seven white faces and one black one looked up as Knocker jumped down into the boat. He saw the amazement there and his heart felt warm inside him. He wondered how they'd take it. He hoped they didn't mind him coming on their Adventure, but he didn't care. It was his Adventure, too, now. Whatever they said, whatever they thought, he was going.

  Knocker had boarded at the stern, by the rudder, and he sat down and faced Napoleon, who was in the stroke seat.

  "I'll row, you steer," said Knocker putting his face close to Napoleon's.

  "What do you mean?" asked the Wandsworth Borrible, half rising.

  "I mean," said Knocker, "that I'm coming with you."

  4

  There was no one to see them off but Lightfinger and he watched the boat edge slowly round the stern of The Ethel Ada like a huge insect with only four legs. Darkness covered the craft and soon Lightfinger could only hear the voice of Napoleon saying gently, "Paddle, stroke side, ease up, bow. Hands on the gunwale, number five. Forward all." When Lightfinger could hear no more he turned and walked quickly away, glad to have nothing to do with the gloomy and dangerous Thames.

  The Silver Belle Flower crept out until she was well clear of the barges moored along the southern bank. Napoleon didn't take her out into midstream; he wanted to be within easy reach of the bank and its complicated blackness, so that if a police launch appeared they could take cover rapidly.

  Napoleon let the boat drift round until the bow was pointing just where he wanted it, then he tensed his muscles and gripped the two rudder strings tightly.

  "Come forward," he whispered. The crew leaned towards him in their seats. "Paddle," said the navigator and the boat sprang up river, eager to be under way.

  Nobody spoke except Napoleon, there was too much work to be done to allow conversation. Every rower was concentrating his whole body, every bit of his brain, on handling his oar as cleanly as possible.

  The water surged below the boat and lifted it regularly, trying to bear it backwards and down to the sea. Occasionally a dark mass of barges, lashed together into one rigid floating world, slid by them, towed or pushed by a small tug. Mysterious lights coasted by and men with deep voices called out to one another, and from either shore came the distant groan of traffic, trapped in the streets. It was nearly midnight now, but, small and fearful on the Thames, the Borribles soon lost the sense of time and place.

  Gradually, as the rowers came more and more together, a feeling of exhilaration passed from one to the other and their handling of the boat improved. Napoleon, who had never been on the river before, let alone in command of his own ship, was bursting with gratification and fulfilment. He could have sailed for ever.

  But the swift tide was against them and it took most of their effort to stay in the same place. There was no ornamental pleasure lake beneath them now but a sinuous monster with rolling ropes of muscle that could shatter a boat like a walnut caught in the crook of a navvy's arm.

  They clawed their way forward, away from Battersea Church and up to Ransome's Dock, where Eaton House and Archer House stood behind the green of a narrow strip of recreation ground at the end of Battersea High Street. Underneath the grey-painted girders of Battersea Railway Bridge it was blacker than black and they felt insignificant and frightened, but Napoleon kept them rowing, exerting their small muscles to the uttermost. To the north were Chelsea Creek and the LTE Generating
Station. Far ahead, glowing crimson in the night sky, at the end of Battersea Reach, was the Fulham Power Station, a beacon for the night's work.

  Napoleon watched his crew carefully, determined not to overtire them, and before long he decided to take cover and let the Borribles rest and maybe eat something from the rations that had been stowed aboard the previous day. His instructions came clearly and the boat slipped into the southern shore and came to a halt between two enormous barges.

  "Ship your oars," commanded Napoleon and he went bounding over the benches to tie the boat's painter to a cable which ran from one of the barges to a huge buoy. The Borribles broke into the food and began to congratulate each other, pleased with their progress. "Well," said Napoleon, coming back to face Knocker, anger in his voice, "how'd you manage to fiddle it?"

  The attention of the others was caught by the question. They too wondered how Knocker had managed to get himself included in the expedition.

  "I'm not here as a member," said Knocker, looking behind him at the curious Borribles, and feeling it was only right that he should explain. "There is in the Rules a provision for exceptional Adventures which allows an Observer-Historian to go along and record it all. Spiff asked me to come, at the very last moment, that's all. I couldn't refuse really—not that I wanted to."

  Orococco beamed. "I'm glad, pleased to see you with us."

  "Yeah," said Vulge, "you know all about parks and countryside and that."

  Everyone else nodded and Knocker felt it was going to be all right, but Napoleon said: "We'd better get one thing quite clear, Knocker, your status as instructor is over, you don't give any orders, see. All decisions will be arrived at jointly. You don't change that."

  "No, of course not," Knocker assured them all. "I won't even give my opinion unless you ask for it. I can't even take part in the Adventure until you've finished, though I can use my catapult in self-defence."

  "All right, that's fair enough," said Napoleon, "long as we've got it quite clear." He thought for a while and when the others were not listening he leaned close to Knocker and whispered into his ear." Is that all you've come for, Knocker, just to be an observer?"