The Borribles

by Michael Larrabeiti

  They stole well for their master and there were several reasons for this, the main one being that stealing comes naturally to all Borribles, although it is not usual for them to steal stuff they don't need. But they were also well aware that Dewdrop would let Erbie beat them to within an inch of their lives if they didn't do well in house or shop. He could even turn them over to the police for the pleasure of seeing them get their ears clipped.

  The key to the cage was kept in Dewdrop's pocket and it was attached by a long chain to his braces and he never let it out of his sight or gave it to his son for one minute, for Dewdrop trusted no one. He was sly and he was cunning.

  Weeks went by and still the Adventurers were no nearer escape. They stole and they burgled, returning to Dewdrop after each sortie to find him sitting on the seat of his cart with Sam munching in the nosebag, shaking his head up at the sky to get to the hay. Wearily they loaded their booty onto the back of the cart and clambered in after it, hiding under a piece of canvas so they would not be seen by prying eyes. Then Dewdrop would settle back in his seat, flap the reins and the old horse would lean into the traces and take them home. Home! Back to the dreary house in Engadine and the dreadful cold cellar with a cage in it and in the cage ten desperate and forlorn Borribles.

  They became cheerless and they moved like people without minds. They had not one glimmer of hope and they hardly talked to each other, which for Borribles is a sign of mental disintegration. Their spirits got lower and lower until there came a day when they spoke no more. The ten companions lost count of the weeks spent in the cage, and back in Wandsworth the Wendles forgot about the expedition; even the Borribles of Battersea gave the Adventurers up for dead. The imprisonment seemed to go on for ever. Knocker's original suggestion, that they should draw lots and that one team of Borribles should simply disappear when Dewdrop sent them thieving, seemed more and more attractive. Each Adventurer had come to believe in his own heart and mind that this was the only way. All that stopped them taking up the subject again was the bleak thought of being left behind, alone with Dewdrop and Erbie. But then, just when they needed it, luck took a hand. Something happened.

  Very late one evening, about eleven o 'clock, Knocker and Adolf, Chalotte, Bingo and Torreycanyon were taken out by Dewdrop and driven in the cart almost halfway up the hill beyond Southfields. The five Borribles sat silent beneath the tarpaulin on the back of the cart and listened to the tread of Sam's hooves on the tarmac. It was a cold evening, for winter was coming on, and they shivered all the more because they were hungry. Sam pulled slowly, the hill was long and steep. Occasionally they could hear Dewdrop call out, "Come along you, Sam, my old deario," and then there was the crack of the whip as the rag-and-bone man hit the old horse as hard as he could. Once the Borribles would have said, "Poor old Sam," because Borribles are mighty fond of horses, but now they had no sympathy to spare for Borrible or beast.

  Sam tugged the cart up and up the steep hill, past many silent mansions standing in great gardens, until Dewdrop stopped in front of a very large house hidden behind high hedges and surrounded by acres of lawns and flowerbeds. The Borribles heard the brake being pulled on and then the tarpaulin was jerked back and the cold air came rushing in. Dewdrop's dewdrop looked like frozen jelly, green in the pale light of the stars.

  "Well, my little dearios," creaked the evil voice, "we're going to have a fine time tonight. Here's a nice big house, what we have here, family gorn away for a second holiday, ain't it? Skiing and somesuch; I hopes they breaks their legs. But that's not why we're here, is it, to look into their health? We're here because they're there, ain't it? This is a family with a lot of money, no doubt they've taken it with them, but you can't take everything, oh no, too cumbersome and heavy. Can't have a skiing holiday with a grand piano up your jumper, eh? I'm going to wait here with Sam, my horse. You three . . ." He suddenly jabbed his boney finger into the tender flesh of Chalotte, Bingo and Torreycanyon one after the other. "You three will concentrate on the downstairs, should be some lovely silver in there, knives and forks, Georgian flower bowls and such. Oh, my dearios, I do like a beautiful thing, it was beauty that put me on this road, ain't it."

  He turned and jabbed Adolf and Knocker. "And you two will go upstairs, look into the studies and bedrooms, nice antique stuff they'll have up there, pottery I should think, and if that don't work out you get into the children's playroom. Rich family, ain't it, spends a fortune on their little spoilt brats, I shouldn't wonder. Well, stealing's a great leveller, ain't it? We'll take some of those rich toys, my dearios, and I'll give 'em to someone else, make 'em happy. Now go on, and don't forget to come back, else you won't see your friends no more."

  The Borribles leapt down from the cart and, taking a sack each, they ran nimbly across the grounds of the house to the back garden, out of sight of the road. It was quiet and dark and not a thing moved in the whole world. Knocker soon had a window open and they lost no time in getting inside. Leaving the other three to work the ground floor, Knocker and Adolf raced for the stairs and, in the light of their torches they rifled the bedrooms, snatching up anything they considered worthwhile.

  When their sacks were nearly full, they went into a long wide room that was obviously the playroom; there were models and games everywhere. Without a word Adolf and Knocker began to collect some of the smaller and more expensive items.

  After a while Adolf said, "I think we've got all we can carry." His voice sounded flat and depressed. "We'd better get back to Dewdrop now, or he'll be beating us again for being too slow."

  "And if we don't get enough stuff he'll beat us for that, too," said Knocker, thinking that he couldn't go on living like this much longer. He went to the last of the toy-cupboards and said, "I'll just have a look in here."

  Adolf was at the other side of the room when Knocker opened the cupboard. He couldn't see what Knocker saw but he heard a gasp, and then a chuckle and then a whistle of pleasure and happiness with a note of hope in it too. It had been so long since Adolf had heard anything so cheerful that he looked up immediately and scuttled over the room shouting, "What is it, what is it?" and then he saw and he swore his favourite oath. "Verdammt," he said and then again, "verdammt," and finally, "a million verdammts. "

  In front of the two Borribles, on the second shelf, level with their eyes, were two of the finest steel catapults they had ever seen. The elastic was black and square and powerful and looked new and full of resilience.

  Adolf and Knocker looked at each other, their eyes gleaming and shining with a bright spark such as had not glowed there for many weeks.

  "How on earth can we get them back to the cage?" asked Adolf. "That dammt Dewdrop maniac searches us every night."

  "He does," said Knocker, his mouth curling into a tight muscled smile, "he does, but he never looks under our feet."

  "Verdammt," shouted Adolf, "you're right. I saw some sticky tape over there, just the thing, but we must be quick, or he'll think something fishy is going on."

  Both Borribles, their hearts throbbing, hastily fixed a catapult to the sole of a boot. With a minimum of luck, they might be able to get the weapons back into the cage.

  "Where can we get some stones," said Knocker as he finished fixing his catapult, "and how would we smuggle them in if we had them?"

  Adolf struck his forehead with the flat of his hand. "I saw some large marbles in that cupboard over there. I tell you, the kids in this house have everything in the toy line."

  It was true enough. In a large cake tin was a fine collection of coloured marbles, all of them as big as a good-sized stone and all of them heavy.

  "We can't take more than five," said Knocker counting them out. "We'll carry them in our mouths."

  "Long as Dewdrop doesn't make us speak when we get back to Engadine," said the German.

  "Well, let's go," said Knocker, "and hope for the best."

  They left the house and ran across the starlit lawns to where Dewdrop sat on the cart, his shoulders hunched and his h
ead swivelling at the slightest sound.

  "Where've you been?" he snapped. "The others got here hours ago. You're trying to get me caught, ain't it? Well, you remember, my dearios, if I gets caught I'll make damn sure you lot does. Get in the cart with those sacks and cover yourselves up." And when that was done Dewdrop cracked the whip and old Sam leant into the traces, turned the cart round and took them home again.

  At the back of the house in Engadine was a large yard where the rag-and-bone man kept his scrap metal and where he stabled his horse. It was approached from the road that ran behind and parallel to Engadine and it was always this entrance that Dewdrop used after one of his forays.

  Once Sam had been shut in the stable for the night Dewdrop pushed the Borribles to the house, staggering as they were under the sacks of booty.

  "Come along, my beauties, my little stealing wonders," he muttered impatiently. "I want to see how well you have been working for my early retirement. Ho yes, this is my redundancy pay, ain't it, me dearios? Hurry along, you brats, 'fore I brains yer."

  The five Borribles said nothing. Each was holding a precious marble in his mouth and dared not speak.

  Inside the house they dumped the sacks in the hallway and then filed down the narrow steps to the cellar. Erbie stood there, drooling and smiling and nodding as they went into the room and lined up as they always had to line up.

  "Hurry up, Erbie, my ol' darlin'," said Dewdrop as he came into the room. "There's such a lot of stuff tonight we'll be up till morning just looking at it. Get those little dearios locked up safe and sound and give 'em a little bit more bread, just so they knows how much I appreciates 'em."

  Erbie came along the line and under the watchful eye of his father he ran his hot and heavy hands over the frail forms of the Borribles. He felt everywhere, grinning and sniggering, making sure they had stolen nothing from the sacks to keep for themselves. The Borribles stood with their mouths firmly closed, the marbles feeling as big as footballs. When Erbie had finished his searching and prodding and fondling, Dewdrop went over to the cage and stood there with a truncheon in his hand. He opened the gate and quickly pushed the Borribles inside. The door clanged and Erbie threw some stale bread through the bars and then both he and his father sped from the room to spend avaricious hours with their swag.

  As soon as Dewdrop and Erbie were upstairs the marbles were brought from their hiding places and aroused great interest; but when the catapults appeared, why then there was rejoicing and hope.

  "Oh, my," chortled Vulge, as he fingered a catapult lovingly, "I know who's going to get a clout round the ear with this little beauty. Knock his bloody brains out, if he had some—ain't it?" he added in impersonation of his jailer.

  "Man, oh man," cried Orococco, jumping up and down and smashing his right fist into his left hand, "this is it. I'll pulverise them, I'll feed 'em to the sparrows."

  "How'd it happen?" asked Napoleon. "How'd you do it?"

  "Knocker found them," said Chalotte, her eyes alight. "At the house we were turning over, and Adolf found the marbles; there's only five, but that'll be enough." She blushed and added, "Knocker told us all about it in the cart on the way home." Then she smiled at Knocker, apologising in a way for telling his story but showing that she was proud of him.

  "That's it," said Knocker throwing his chest out a bit. "It was easy. Look, tomorrow it's you lot who go out. When you get back, me and Adolf will have our catapults ready. We're out of practice but we should be all right, and we've got five good heavy marbles. This is how we'll do it. When you're lined up and Erbie 's waiting for his old man to come and supervise the searching, that's when we strike. We'll shoot to kill," said Knocker, looking sombrely at Adolf who just grinned and flashed his blue eyes. "After what we've put up with nothing else will do." The Adventurers murmured their assent. "We must get Dewdrop, he's got the keys. You others will unlock the cage. Then we'll all get into the backyard, take the horse and cart, and anything else we want. Agreed?" Everyone nodded. For the first time in weeks they were happy and hopeful.

  The next day was a long day and there was a longer evening to follow it as Knocker and Adolf waited for the return of Dewdrop. Two catapults and five marbles were all that they had to help them to reach freedom. Knocker walked up and down the cage, flexing his muscles, watched by his four companions.

  "They won't be long now," said Chalotte trying to soothe him. "It will be all right, you'll see."

  "Adolf," said Knocker at one point, "you have had more adventures than me. We have five stones only; you take three, I will take two. You aim at Dewdrop, I will take Erbie. We fire, without words, as soon as Dewdrop steps into the room."

  Adolf said, "You do me a great honour, Knocker my friend, for you are a good shot with the catapult."

  "I saw you fire at the policemen," said Knocker. "You did it well."

  "Listen," said Bingo, in a whisper, "here they come."

  Sure enough there were footsteps upstairs and Erbie came creeping sideways into the cellar like a white crab. He slithered over to the cage and had a prod or two with a pointed stick. The Borribles got as far away from the idiot as they could.

  "Better get an aspirin, sonny," murmured Bingo, "because you're going to have an awful headache. You think you're dopey now, but wait till you've had a little bash round the bonce."

  There was a slamming of doors above and some heavy thumps as the Borribles came in and dropped their sacks of loot onto the floor. Then they were pushed downstairs by Dewdrop, who could be heard grumbling because it had been a poor night's stealing.

  The door to the cellar stood open and the Borribles stumbled in.

  "Go'ron, you lazy little fools," shouted Dewdrop. "Nothing, nothing you brought me. How can I make a living like this? Monsters, ungrateful monsters, I'll be working until I'm a failing old man at this rate, never able to retire."

  He rushed through the doorway and stopped to look round the cellar. His face was angry red, purple in the tight skin near his mouth. "None of you shall eat tonight, none of you," he snarled.

  Adolf and Knocker had their backs to the door, crouching in the cage, catapults firmly gripped, spare marbles in the ready hand of a colleague. They glanced at each other and on the nod they turned unhurriedly, stretching the catapults as far as they would go, a murderous extent, and let fly, each at his target.

  Knocker's marble hit Erbie on the left temple, hard. Erbie swayed, his smile petrified, stiff as blancmange, but he did not fall; unconscious, he was kept upright by some trick of gravity.

  Adolf did not have the same luck. As he released the elastic Dewdrop moved forward, intending to thrash the Borribles, for he was in a foul temper, and the marble only clipped him on the back of the head, serving but to increase his anger and his vigilance.

  He looked towards the cage and reached for the truncheon that always stood just inside the cellar door; the moisture at the end of his nose glowed blue, green and mauve.

  "Throwing stones, ain't it?" he roared, then he saw the catapults and was scared.

  "Erbie, we'll have to lock the doors on these guttersnipes until they comes to their senses."

  But it was too late. Napoleon kicked the truncheon out of Dewdrop's reach. Adolf reloaded and he didn't miss a second time. The projectile crashed and splintered into the middle of the rag-and-bone man's forehead and he staggered back against the wall, sorely hurt, and his dewdrop, that globe of multi-colored mucus, finally broke off its infatuation with the nose and fell to the floor.

  "Oh, Erbie," Dewdrop cried piteously. "Oh, Erbie, help me, my boy, my son, my joy."

  But poor Erbie was in no state to help anyone. Chalotte had thrust a second marble into Knocker's hand as soon as he had fired the first. He reloaded and shot at Dewdrop's crazed son, still rocking on his heels. The heavy glass bullet struck Erbie a fatal blow above the heart and he fell backwards, demolished, like an old factory chimney.

  Dewdrop could not believe what he saw. He raised a bewildered hand to his bleeding fo
rehead, the blood trickled down into his eyes and confused him. Napoleon picked up the truncheon and stood ready, but he waited for Adolf to fire his last shot.

  The German, veteran of many a battle, and survivor from a multitude of tight corners, took his time.

  "Oh, my son, my poor little Erbie, what have they done to you, you little darling what wouldn't hurt a fly? Oh, what a cruel world, my boy. Erbie, speak up and chat to your father."

  Adolf's third marble flew straight as an arrow, and as fatally, to the temple of the Borrible-Snatcher. He lurched and pressed both hands to his head, then, lifeless himself, he fell forward with a mighty crash across the lifeless body of his son.

  "So perish all Borrible-Snatchers," said Knocker grandly, and the others looked at each other with a wild delight. They were free.

  It was the work of only a few minutes to find the keys and open the door of the cage. They discovered their haversacks in the next cellar room, where they had come into the house of Dewdrop Bunyan and Son so many weeks before; their catapults and bandoliers were there too.

  Soon the Adventurers were re-equipped and in marching order. They found food upstairs in the well-stocked kitchen and they ate as they had not eaten for many a day. Then, smiling and almost crying with happiness, they went out into the yard.

  Knocker went to the cart and threw his haversack into it; Napoleon, keeping close behind him, did the same.

  The others hesitated for a moment and lowered their haversacks to the ground.

  "Where," asked Sydney, "are you going with that cart?"

  "What do you mean?" said Knocker, his eyes widening, taken aback. "Rumbledom, of course."

  "We think," said Chalotte, "that escaping from a Borrible-Snatcher is an Adventure in itself, let alone killing one. We've earned our names already."