The Borribles - Larrabeiti Michael - Страница 9

"We're a bit far away to judge," said the Wendle, "but you see they've got some metal ones there, by the jetty." His voice changed when he talked about boats. He became excited and his face shone, while his companions looked terrified. Borribles tend to dislike water even more than they dislike woods and fields. "They aren't really any good for a river trip, too short and wide, unstable, and not big enough anyway to take eight of us. Those are the ones we want." He pointed out to the islands and the others could see that amongst the scores of metal boats were a few old long ones, built of wood with seats and cushions and rudders that were worked by two pieces of rope. They were much bigger.

"Lovely, graceful things they are," said Napoleon enthusiastically, "low in the water, they will float over any wave or wash cast up by barges on the river. Four rowlocks, I should think, two teams of rowers . . . if the girls are up to it." He looked behind him at Chalotte and Sydney. Chalotte said, "Get your boat first, Wen-die."

"Take it easy," said Knocker, stopping any quarrel before it started." If we want one of those wooden boats from the island we'll have to get out there. Any ideas?"

"Too far to swim," said Vulgarian, whom they all called Vulge now.

"And he won't hire us one because we're too small," said Sydney, "even if we had the money—which we haven't."

"So we'll have to pinch a metal boat to get out there," added Stonks.

"Yeah—but have you noticed," said Torreycanyon, "that they keep the oars separate, only hand 'em out with the boats, don't they? And worse, the boats tied to the island ain't got no oars at all."

There was silence. Knocker waited; this was all part of their training. He knew what he would have done; the situation obviously called for diversionary tactics of some kind. Someone would have to entice the keeper out of the little shed so that others could dash in and get some oars. Something like that was necessary.

Suddenly Napoleon Boot stood up." Look," he said, "boats is my speciality, why don't you let me do it?"

"All right," said Knocker, "who do you want to take with you?"

"I want to do this one on my own."

"On your own!" cried Vulge. "I'd like to see it."

"You will," answered Napoleon. "You will."

"Well, it better be good," said the chief lookout. "We haven't got time to waste."

"Just after nightfall tonight you will have your pick of the boats," said Napoleon scornfully, "and you'll be able to row this lot of sailors up and down till their arms drop off. How's that?"

"That'll do me fine, Napoleon Boot," said Knocker grimly.

Napoleon left them and went down the path towards the little hut on the jetty. He swaggered as he walked. The others retreated and screened themselves in some bushes. When they were settled Orococco said, "That Napoleon may smell a little but I betcha there's no flies on him."

They watched the Wendle strut towards the wooden shed. At the end of the jetty he halted, pulled his hat down over his ears and then walked straight on past.

"What's the little bleeder up to now?" asked Dodger of no one in particular, and he got no answer.

When Napoleon was small in the distance he suddenly turned and ran as fast as he could back towards the hut. He dashed to the ticket-office, threw open its door, and jumping up and down he yelled at the keeper inside. What he said the watchers could not imagine but they could see that Napoleon was very agitated. The keeper listened attentively, then he got up quickly from his stool and came out onto the jetty, pausing only to lock the door of his hut.

"That's no good," groaned Bingo, "we can't get in there now."

The keeper threw two oars into the nearest boat, picked up the tiny Napoleon and jumped aboard. The boat rocked and swayed dangerously but it did not capsize, and Napoleon seemed quite happy sitting in the stern as the keeper set the oars in the rowlocks and plyed them expertly. The little craft shot out onto the lake heading for the larger of the two islands where the unused boats were tied along the shore in rows.

Knocker looked at Dodger and shook his head. "Blessed if I know what he's at," he said. Dodger shrugged his shoulders. The boat neared the island but before it touched the shore they could see that Napoleon had got to his feet. Then the boat hit the bank, stopping abruptly, and the Wendle was shot off his feet and into the water.

Torreycanyon roared with laughter. "Cocky little stinker's fallen in," he guffawed. The others laughed too.

"Shaddup," snarled Knocker.

The park-keeper stepped into the water, wetting his trousers to the waist, and rescued Napoleon, placing the Borrible in the boat and wrapping him in a rug that he took from the bench. Then he tied the boat to a branch and wagging his finger at Napoleon he disappeared into the island's vegetation. No sooner had he gone than the watchers were amazed to see Napoleon leap up, untie the painter and row for the shore, and could that boy row! He was small but he made that boat into a living thing and it flew across the lake like a kingfisher. Knocker looked at the faces around him, jaws were open and eyes were wide.

Napoleon jumped onto the jetty and without bothering to moor the boat he ran along the wooden planking to the path and darted into a telephone box that stood empty nearby. The Borribles saw him climb up a couple of the broken window panes to reach the receiver more easily and he made a call. That done he raced off at top speed to be lost amongst some trees about half a mile away. For a while nothing happened and the watchers in the bushes stirred uneasily.

"I think that cocky little so-and-so is out of his mind," said Stonks. "All he's done is stir up trouble."

"I dunno so much," said Sydney. "Let's wait and see.

And so they waited, and they waited, and after what seemed a long while, but in reality was only ten minutes, they heard the "Hoo-haa, hoo-haa, hoo-haa," of a police siren and a patrol car skidded to a halt by the telephone box.

"Oh, lor—here comes the Woollies now," said Dodger wearily.

Two policemen threw themselves out of the car, ran down the landing-stage and tried the door to the little hut, but it was firmly locked. Then there was a hallooing and a whistling from the island and, looking up, the policemen saw the keeper jumping up and down and waving his arms and making an awful noise. He must have been quite cold because the Borribles could see that all the bottom half of him was darker than the top half, which meant he was still very wet.

The two policemen poked about in the boats for some oars, but they were all in the hut. The only oars available were in the boat that the keeper and Napoleon had used and that had drifted until it was now about ten yards from land. The policemen tried to hook it in with a long pole, but they couldn't quite reach. Another police car arrived with an Inspector in it and he took control and ordered one of his men to go out and get the boat. One of the constables took off his coat and waded into the lake, but the bottom shelved away fairly rapidly and by the time he got to the boat he was swimming. Spluttering and cursing his luck he got hold of the painter and pulled the boat to the jetty and a dry policeman got in and rowed to the island where it was the work of a minute to rescue the keeper. While the boat was returning to the shore the Head Keeper bowled up on his bicycle and stood joking with the police Inspector. They thought the episode was most hilarious and they threw back their heads and laughed and laughed. Water does that to some people.

Very soon the wet policeman and the damp keeper were together on the jetty and the Inspector sent them off in one of the cars. The Head Keeper unlocked the shed, put the oars away and locked up again. He stood talking and laughing some more with the Inspector, then they shook hands and the keeper got on his bike and pedalled back to his office, and the Inspector drove back to the police station on Lavender Hill.

It was all over. Everything was quiet and dusk began to come down over the Park. The deer, who lived behind the railings, had already disappeared into their wooden shelters. Only a few people were strolling about and all of those were making their way to the gates. Very soon now the bell would ring and Battersea Park would close for the night. The waiting and watching Borribles undid their packs, took out their greatcoats and squatted down, expecting they knew not what.

"I hardly see the point of that operation," said Sydney; she always spoke a little precisely like that. "The hut is locked and there are no oars outside. I think Napoleon has made a miscalculation somewhere."

Just at that moment there was a rustle in the bushes behind them and a very bedraggled Napoleon Boot ran up. He was panting and laughing so much that it looked like he might be sick. His hair was plastered down over his skull, his clothes were soaking and stuck to his body and his skin was steaming from the heat generated by his mad running across the Park. He fell to the ground and the sounds coming from him made his companions think that perhaps he was very ill. Knocker pulled the sodden Borrible over onto his back and peeled off the wet jacket. He then removed his own greatcoat and covered the shaking and shivering body with it.

"It looks bad," said Dodger.

"Man," cried Orococco, "we don't want a casualty before we starts."

The Borribles stood in a glum group, looking down at Napoleon. Knocker rubbed the hands and legs of the Wandsworth Borrible as hard as he could to aid the circulation. Gradually Napoleon got his breath and sat up. "Don't fuss," he said between gasps. "I'm all right, just a bit out of breath, and I can't stop laughing." And as if to prove it he started shaking and shivering again.

"There's nothing to laugh about," said Knocker sternly, relieved now that he knew that Napoleon Boot would survive. "We've wasted the whole afternoon and achieved nothing except for you to have a good giggle."

Napoleon groped into his wet clothes, there was a jangling noise and his hand reappeared clutching a massive bunch of keys.

"Look at that," he chortled. "What's that, eh? Scotch mist?"

There was a stunned silence, then Bingo asked, "Well, what is it?"