The Borribles - Larrabeiti Michael (книги онлайн без регистрации .txt) 📗

Knocker sat on the driving seat wrapped in Dewdrop's old mac. To the adult eye he looked a little short to be driving a horse but it was raining heavily and those few people who were moving in the streets ran by with their heads down. The other Adventurers had strung the canvas over the cart like a tent and in its shelter they were tending to each others' wounds and eating their provisions.

It was wonderful to lie down and ease the pain in the limbs and allow a colleague to cleanse one's wounds. They all took a turn and eventually Knocker left his seat and was replaced by Stonks, and Knocker had something to eat and lay back while Chalotte bound the gashes in his arms and legs and bandaged the burns on his shoulders and hands.

"These are bad wounds," she said. "You are a fool, you worried about the money when you could have escaped—and worse—Adolf is lost because of it."

Knocker did not answer. It was warm and dry under the canvas and the movement of the cart lulled the Borribles into a deep sleep. Napoleon and Bingo and Vulge had been cleaned up and fed but had hardly opened their eyes during the process and were now unconscious again. Sydney was keeping watch out of the back of the cart, but she too was so tired that Knocker could see her head dropping forward, as if it were going to fall off at any moment.

Torreycanyon was recounting his adventure to Orococco, who closed his eyes every five seconds, and Torreycanyon, who felt "fresh as a Rumbledom daisy", stopped talking and allowed the Totter to doze.

Sydney turned and said, "Torrey, if you're so fresh, you come and keep watch and let me go to sleep, too."

Knocker waited. When it became silent inside the cart he turned his attention to the Rumble treasure box and touched it with an injured hand. It was sooty and still warm. Quietly, taking care not to awaken anyone, he shoved the box to the side of the cart behind him and disguised its appearance with a piece of old canvas and some discarded clothing. Then he leant his back against it so that no one could move it without his knowing.

He tried to keep awake, to guard the box and to relive the events of the past hours, but his head fell onto his chest and the horse plodded through the rain. Sam went calmly along the edge of the traffic, across by Augustus and over by the railway station of Southfields, down Replingham and past the opening to Engadine where they had been attacked and forced into the clutches of Dewdrop and Erbie. And all the Borribles slept, even Torreycanyon who should have been on watch, and even Stonks who should have been guiding Sam, but Sam paced on without need of command. He had heard talk of the Wandle and of King George's Park so that was where he went. He knew London as well as any horse, and he stepped out evenly for he realised the Borribles were exhausted. He halted gently by the traffic lights and paid particular attention when changing lanes and crossing roundabouts. He trudged on and on and Stonks snored in the driving seat and the others dreamed behind, at the mercy of chance. But luck stayed with them and the rain continued to fall in heavy drops and no adult had time to observe the horse and cart or think them out of place as they went slowly along the streets bearing the Borribles away from Rumbledom and towards the dubious safety of Wendle territory.

It was dusk when they awoke. Sam stood in a deserted side street by King George's, sleeping between the shafts, totally exhausted, all energy drained from him.

When the Borribles came to move their limbs they found that it was almost impossible. Stiffness and fatigue seemed to have fixed them in one position for ever. Stonks had fallen sideways onto the driver's seat and lay curled up in Dewdrop's raincoat. It was Torreycanyon who was the first to stick his head out into the moist evening air.

It had stopped raining and the street lamps shimmered gold in the wet roadway and made it dark, shiny and deep. Torreycanyon looked at his watch, five o'clock. He glanced at the name of the road and ducked under the canvas to check it on his street map in the light of his torch.

"Longstaff," he said. "Good old Sam, we're right near to King George's."

The others sat up one by one, groaning as they realised how battered their bodies were. They huddled together for warmth and made a cold meal before continuing their journey. As they ate they argued amongst themselves about which route they should take for the return trip to Battersea. The easiest way of course was by boat through Wendle country to the Thames, the way they had come. But some of the Adventurers had their doubts.

"I think we should go back some other way," said Chalotte.

"What do you mean?" Napoleon looked up sharply.

"I didn't mean anything personal to you, Nap," she answered, a little embarrassed. "It's just that Flinthead gives me the creeps, a nasty feeling."

"Any other way must be safer," said Knocker, "must be."

Napoleon laughed a cool laugh. "It's too late, friends, you should have kept awake. Sam has brought us right up to King George's. We must have been sighted as soon as we crossed Merton Road. I should think there are Wendle lookouts all around us."

There was an uneasy silence under the canvas.

"Don't let's go bonkers," said Sydney at length. "The Wendles are Borribles, after all; they'll be pleased that our Expedition was a success."

"Anyway, we are in too bad a shape to go by any but the shortest and easiest way," said Napoleon. "Just think, you'll be home in two or three days."

"Remains to be seen," said Knocker.

Napoleon laughed again. "You're being ridiculous," he said.

It was decided, after a little more discussion, that all they could do was to walk on as far as the banks of the Wandle and then camp there. Napoleon would make contact with a lookout and ask for the Adventurers to be taken back to The Silver Belle Flower and guided down to the Thames. After that everything would depend on the Wendles.

When they were ready, they clambered down the cart-wheels to the gleaming pavements and struggled into the straps of their haversacks. They were a sorry sight, limping and shuffling as they got into marching order. They looked grotesque, with improvised bandages round their heads and limbs. Vulge and Stonks had made themselves crutches from Rumble-sticks and could manage to get along only with help from the others. All of them moved badly and every step they took was a torture.

Knocker, in spite of his serious wounds and the feelings of his companions, went to the rear of the cart and threw aside the coverings that hid the treasure box from view. He dragged it towards him and hoisted it on to his injured back and, though he stumbled and nearly fell under the weight, nothing in the world would have induced him to leave it behind.

"You are very persistent, Knocker," said Chalotte. "How can you take that box after what has happened?"

"You'd be persistent if it was your name, wouldn't you?" retorted Knocker, his temper short because of his feeling of guilt.

"Well, I don't like it much," said Torreycanyon, "but I'm sure Adolf would have understood about your second name." And he took one of the handles and helped Knocker lower the box from his shoulder so that they could carry it between them.

"So!" cried Napoleon Boot, shoving forward. "There it is, that's what you've been after all along, you scab. Selling us down the river, eh? You'd never have got it away without us. It's ours as well, you should share it out."

"Oh, let's throw it away before it stirs up more trouble," said Sydney.

"That's not very bright, now we've got it this far," butted in Torreycanyon. "I mean it's money, isn't it? A lot of it, too. Look at the way those Rumbles lived. They had everything up there, and a few things besides."

"We can't share it out between us yet," said Knocker, turning towards Napoleon and thrusting his face up against the Wendle's. "Spiff wanted to share it equally between all the tribes who had sent members on the Expedition. Each one of you will take a share back with him when he goes."

"Ha! Do you expect me to believe that load of old cobblers?" asked Napoleon, his face green in the light of the street-lamp. "You may trust Spiff, but I don't."

There was a dreadful silence under that lamp-post and some hearts sickened to think they had been so far and had done so much together and could now quarrel over a rotten box of money. Stonks said as much and he was backed up by Chalotte and Sydney, Bingo, Vulge and Orococco.

"Sod the money," shouted Stonks. "Here we are, dying on our feet, and you two argue. Let's get into the Park before the damn bread kills us all. We need a good night's kip. We can talk about the money tomorrow."

His voice woke Sam who nearly fell off his four feet. He neighed and turned his head. Sydney ran to him and the others followed, the money forgotten for the moment. They shone their torches over the horse and saw that his hide was caked with blood and covered with scratches and stab wounds.

"Here you are yammering on about money," cried Sydney angrily, pointing her finger at Napoleon and Knocker, "and the horse that saved us all is neglected by the lot of you."

They freed Sam from the traces, patted him down and expressed their sorrow at having ignored him for so long. Then they led him towards the Park and as Sam stepped out they noticed that he had a very bad limp, caused by a deep wound in one of his back legs.

"Look at that," shouted Sydney at them all, as if they'd each and severally been responsible. "Wounded like he is and brought us all the way down here. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Sam ought to be retired on that money."

The gates to the Park had been closed at dusk but Napoleon soon picked the lock and the Borrible team, Sam first, went into King George's. The Park was black and silent and the grass was wet but they had brought the canvas with them and when they reached the banks of the Wandle, flowing quiet and murky, they spread the tarpaulin on the ground and sat on it to keep dry. Soon the sky cleared of clouds, the stars appeared and the night turned cold, but the Adventurers wrapped themselves in their combat jackets and sleeping-bags and sat round in a circle, except for Sydney who tended and spoke to Sam for a long while before she regained her temper and rejoined the group.