‘I say no,’ said Chalotte, but she realized as she said it that the others would be against her.
Stonks looked at the faces of his fellow Adventurers and saw their thoughts. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘cut him free, but he doesn’t give orders any more. It’s all down to us now.’
Bingo sliced through the cords that bound Spiff to his chair and put the knife back in his belt. Spiff got to his feet and smirked at Chalotte. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘what’s yer plan, because you’ll need one, a good one.’
Stonks cleared his throat. ‘I saw a lot of Wendle skiffs down on the Wandle mudflats,’ he said. ‘We’ll steal one and get over to the derrick, there’s only four guards; we’ll knock ’em out and throw ‘em down the shaft. Some of us can take their places so as not to arouse suspicion. I’ll go down the mine and free the others. Then we get in the boats and row down the Wandle until we come out on the Thames. If we do it at night the coppers on the river won’t see us. We’ll cross to the other bank and get into the streets before daylight, or we’ll row all the way down to Battersea, if the tide’s right. I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t work.’
Spiff leant against the wall and gave a slow hand-clap. ‘Oh, great,’ he scoffed, ‘really great. And while you’re doing all this the Wendles on the bank are lolling back with their hands behind their heads saying, “Oh look, our prisoners are escaping, won’t Flinthead be pleased?” Ridiculous. What happens if they sink your boats? What happens if you’re forced into the tunnels? Are you going to carry Knocker and the others over your shoulders? You saw how weak Torreycanyon was; the other three will be the same, worse even. They won’t be able to walk, let alone fight. It won’t work.’
‘So what would you do?’ asked Stonks.
‘What would I do? I’d wait till the treasure’s found, and then, when the excitement is high and the Wendles are celebrating, I’d move in and take the prisoners. You’d be halfway home before Flinthead realized you’d been here.’
‘Oh, no,’ cried Chalotte. ‘I can see him coming a mile off. He wants to wait till the treasure’s found so that he can try and take it with him, and get us to help him fight his way out. Not a chance.’
‘Chalotte’s right,’ said Vulge. ‘We got all messed up by the treasure in Rumbledom, let’s not do it again.’
‘That settles it,’ said Stonks. ‘We’ll attack tomorrow night. We’ll row out to the platform as if we were taking a message or changing the guard. I’ll try to entice the sentries into the shaft on some pretext and deal with them there. When I come out with the prisoners we’ll have to get the boats moving downstream as fast as we can and hope the Wendles on the bank don’t notice anything until we run. Vulge, Bingo and Sydney can come with me to the platform. Twilight and Chalotte will stay on the bank. If anything goes wrong, Chalotte, you’ll have to create a diversion in the tunnels. Fuse the lights, shout, anything, only make the Wendles chase you.’
‘Why leave us behind?’ asked Chalotte.
Stonks grinned, not something he did often. ‘Obvious,’ he said. ‘They won’t spot Twilight in the dark and you can’t stand Spiff so you’re the best person to keep an eye on him. We don’t know how far we can trust him now.’
‘We never could,’ said Chalotte, ‘only we didn’t know it.’
The insults rolled right over Spiff. He smiled ironically and helped himself to some food. ‘You lot better eat up,’ he said, ‘because you’re going to need every bit of strength you’ve got; and get some sleep too, you may not get any more for a day or two. I can tell you one thing though. I shall be watching your rescue attempt with great interest, and I shan’t lift a finger to help you.’
It was the middle of the night and Bingo couldn’t sleep. The ground was hard, but he was used to that. His blanket was grubby and smelt horribly, but he was used to that too. There was a song running round and round in his head and he could not banish it. It was the song the Wendles sang when they were in triumph:
We are the Wendles of Wandsworth Town,
We’re always up and the others are down.
We’re rough and we’re tough and we don’t give a damn,
We are the elite of the Borrible clan.
Reach for your Rumble-sticks,
Try all your dirty tricks!
Nothing can beat us
And none shall defeat us.
Say a wrong word and we’ll hammer you down,
We are the Wendles of Wandsworth Town!
Bingo sighed and hoped the song wasn’t an evil omen. He threw the blanket from his shoulders and sat up. In the pitch darkness he got to his knees, crawled to the doorway and went outside, turned left and immediately bumped his head against the shaft of a spear. There was someone sitting there, on guard. Bingo drew back and stared into nothingness. He could not see a thing; it was like being blind.
‘Who’s that?’ he whispered.
A voice came back at him, a Wendle voice. ‘You tell me who you are, mush, or you’ll get two yard of spear up yer.’
‘I’m Bingo,’ said Bingo.
‘All right,’ said the voice, ‘but don’t creep about at night, you’ll get yourself killed. I’m Norrarf.’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ said Bingo. ‘It’s so hot. I thought the air might be a bit cooler in the tunnel.’ He leant against the wall, stretched his legs out and looked to where he thought Norrarf was. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
Norrarf chuckled and it was no friendly chuckle. ‘You can always try … Don’t go in for idle conversation, us Wendles.’
‘Oh, it’s not idle,’ said Bingo, his tone as cheerful as ever. ‘I just wondered how long you’ve known Spiff. I mean, were you here when he was Borribled?’
Norrarf didn’t answer for a while. Bingo began to think he’d gone but then the Wendle spoke.
‘He was already here when I came, had been for ages, had more names than anyone else too, including Flinthead. A lot of people liked Spiff in those days, including me and Skug—still do—but Flinthead hated him, which was funny really seeing as the stories told how they were Borribled together, came from the same place and all that.’
‘Did they quarrel?’
‘All the time,’ said Norrarf, ‘but Spiff was always too smart so Flinthead started to spread rumours about him. He was jealous, see. Then he got a lot of cronies together and made them into a bodyguard and one day he had Spiff captured and staked him out on the mud and he left him there to drown at high tide. There was a sentry on duty to make sure he didn’t get away, and nobody could do a thing about it—too scared, most of ’em.’
‘Except maybe you and Skug,’ said Bingo, beginning to understand a little of the friendship that existed between the two Wendles and Spiff.
‘Me and Skug, we waited till the tide was right in, when Flinthead and the bodyguard thought it was all over … Spiff was almost dead, had the mud in his mouth, crawling up his nostrils, over his head. Then as the sentry walked away I did for him and Skug pulled Spiff out of the water; we brought him round and he went to Battersea.’
‘And the sentry?’
‘Dead. We put his body in Spiff’s place and he was eaten by the eels. All that was left at the next tide was a skeleton. Flinthead was as pleased as a dog with two tails … There was no one to stop him taking the whole tribe under his control. Later he heard that Spiff was alive after all but he never knew how it was done. That’s why he always has at least fifty of the bodyguard round him. He don’t know who to trust. Not every Wendle likes Flinthead you know; they’re just scared of him. Even Tron, I suppose, and he’s pretty brave.’
‘Tron doesn’t seem to be so bad,’ said Bingo.
‘He’s what he has to be, but what can he do? Flinthead don’t trust nobody. He has three men watching Tron and three more men watching each of the men who’s watching Tron … and so it goes.’
‘Has Spiff got a plan, do you think?’ Bingo didn’t expect Norrarf to answer that question, but he did. Now that he had begun, he seemed to enjoy talkin
g through the watches of the night.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘if you’re too thick to work it out for yourself then you must be dopey enough to tell. Spiff hates Flinthead, and perhaps he thinks that if he can get his hands on the treasure then most of the Wendles will go over to his side—that would be the end of Flinthead.’
‘Yes, but if Spiff got the treasure he might become as bad as Flinthead,’ said Bingo, ‘and anyway money’s not Borrible.’
‘I know that,’ said Norrarf, ‘but Spiff thinks any method that gets rid of Flinthead is a good method. Spiff’s craftier than anyone I’ve ever known. He can see round corners and tell you what happened tomorrow, he can. That girl with you says he ain’t Borrible at all, but he’s a damn sight more Borrible than Flinthead. Whichever way you look at it, getting his hands on that treasure is the only way he’s going to get your mates out alive. Borrible or not Borrible, that treasure’s a powerful weapon.’
‘Is that his plan?’ asked Bingo, his voice quickening with excitement.
Norrarf clicked his teeth in denial. ‘Nah, that’s just what I think, ain’t it? If you want to know any more you’d better ask him, I’ve talked too much already. You’d better get back.’
Bingo could feel the Wendle studying him in the dark. He stretched his eyes as wide as he could but saw nothing more than the pulsing of his own blood.
‘It takes years to get used to living down here,’ said Norrarf. ‘That’s why we’re the way we are, I suppose.’
Bingo got to his hands and knees and turned to crawl back to the guardroom. ‘Thanks, Norrarf,’ he said as he left, ‘thanks a lot.’
Norrarf did not bother to answer.
The next evening, when it was time, the Borribles gathered together and made ready to set off. They had checked their catapults; each wore an extra bandolier and carried a Rumble-stick as well. They were indistinguishable from any band of Wendle warriors.
‘Right,’ said Stonks, ‘we’ll march along the tunnels as bold as brass; that way we’ll be taken for a relief guard on our way to a lookout point.’
Spiff sneered. ‘And you’d better get me to walk in front,’ he said, ‘otherwise you’ll get lost.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Vulge, ‘where’s Norrarf and Skug?’
Spiff raised his eyebrows. ‘How should I know, they can’t nurse us all the time, can they? If we’re going, let’s go.’
It was a long trek across the underground citadel and the seven Borribles passed many Wendles on their way, but no one asked their business or stopped them to demand their destination. By the time Spiff marched them out on to the banks of the Wandle the Borribles knew their disguise was perfect and they were filled with confidence and determination.
They came to a halt near a small jetty where two skiffs were moored. These were the boats used by the sentries for travelling to and from the derrick. Everywhere, on both sides of the river, sat or stood small groups of Wendles, all of them waiting for the treasure to be unearthed. On the platform itself the great wheel turned and creaked as the buckets clanked and the mud-covered figure of Torreycanyon stumbled forever forward.
‘Strike a light,’ said Vulge, ‘it don’t bear thinking about, do it? Our mates working in that shit for months and months. Old Flinthead’s got a lot to answer for.’
‘That’ll do,’ said Stonks, walking up and down in front of his companions like a commander inspecting his troops. ‘Remember everyone along here is watching us right now, so try to make it look as if you know what you’re doing. When I give the order, Bingo, Vulge, Sydney and me will get into this boat here. You other three will make for one of those tunnels. You’ll be able to see everything from there, and whatever you do, Chalotte, don’t take your eyes off Spiff.’
‘I ain’t going anywhere,’ said Spiff. ‘I want to see what a mess you make of it,’ and he did a right turn, saluted like a Wendle and stamped off towards the nearest corridor with Chalotte and Twilight following.
Stonks watched them go and then ordered his own contingent into the larger of the two boats. Vulge and Bingo took the oars and, shoving off, they rowed into midstream.
Sydney bit her lip as the water slipped by. ‘Have we got a chance, Stonksie?’ she said.
Stonks sat in the stern and gazed at the derrick as they approached it. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘If we’re lucky with the four guards and if we can get the prisoners out of the mine before we’re noticed, then we’ll get away.’
Bingo and Vulge gave a few more strokes of the oars and their skiff arrived at the platform. One of the guards came to the edge of it and Vulge turned in his seat and threw him a rope. ‘Tie us up, mate,’ he called, and the guard knelt and hooked the painter on to a large nail, but there his friendliness ceased. As soon as Vulge made to climb from the boat the Wendle lowered his spear so that the point of it was only an inch or two away from the Stepney Borrible’s face.
‘Where do you think you’re going, mush? You’ve got to have a special writing from Flinthead to get on here.’
Vulge hesitated; he didn’t know what to say.
Stonks stood up in the stern of the boat, frowning. ‘That’s exactly it,’ he said, ‘we’re special from Flinthead. It’s an emergency. The off-duty guard told him about the shuttering in the shaft, said it was weak, likely to fall in and bury everything; we’ve got to inspect it.’
‘I know nothing about that,’ grumbled the guard. ‘I’ve had strict orders.’
Stonks raised both arms. ‘You do as yer please, me old china; you know what Flinthead will be like if we go back without having done what we were sent to do. If that treasure gets buried under a thousand tons of mud you can bet your ears you’ll be down there with it.’
The guard paled and Stonks reflected, not for the first time, that Flinthead’s strength was also his weakness. The Wendles were so scared of him that they had no confidence in themselves. ‘It’s up to you,’ went on Stonks, ‘but I wouldn’t be in your waders, mate, if you send us off with a flea in our ear.’
‘All right,’ said the guard, ‘but watch yer step or I’ll skewer yer.’
Vulge leapt easily on to the platform, in spite of his limp, and held out a hand to pull the three others up to him.
‘Thanks,’ said Stonks, who came last, and he walked across to the great treadmill. Close to, it was a massive thing and inside it the tortured shape of Torreycanyon shambled along like a drunkard, tumbling forward at a dangerous angle, always on the point of falling over but never quite managing to leave his feet far enough behind. The cumbersome wheel turned, the heavy mud splashed down into the river and the yellow lights above sprayed a dismal colour over everything. As Stonks listened to the rumbling of the treadmill and the banging of the buckets his eyes began to burn with pity and a fearful anger gnawed at the back of his brain.
‘I’ll kill ’em for this,’ he said, under his breath, ‘I’ll kill ‘em, every last one.’
As he stood there one of the guards came up beside him and laughed. ‘This is the way to treat ’em,’ he said, and he cracked his whip, making it curl across Torreycanyon’s shoulders. The captive Borrible lost his balance, tottered for a moment, and then ran on, just a little faster.
Stonks swallowed hard. His friend was a ghost, a shadow. His clothes were in tatters, he was barefoot and covered from heel to head in a dark stickiness, a mixture of sweat, mud and blood. There was slime in his eyes, slime in his hair. He was not far from death, ground down to nothing for the sake of the Rumbles’ treasure.
‘What’s his name?’ asked Stonks for something to say.
‘Torreycanyon,’ said the guard, ‘and he’s the lucky one. He’s a bit like a pet dog to us, running round in his wheel. You should see the others down below, you’d have to see the state they’re in to believe it. No fresh air, gasping for breath. If you could see their skin, which you can’t ’cos of the mud, you’d find it had all gone green with mildew. I don’t reckon they can live much longer, they may not live until they finds the treasure even.�
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‘Very interesting,’ said Bingo, biting back his temper, ‘but we’re only here to see the shuttering.’
‘Yes,’ said Stonks, ‘we’d better get on with the job.’ He went past the treadmill and looked into the mouth of the mine. The chief guard was by his side.
‘Well, that’s it,’ said the Wendle. ‘About a quarter of a mile down they reckon they are now, wood planks all the way round the outside with two big beams going across every fifteen feet or so to stop the planks falling inwards, ’cos the weight of the mud and earth behind is enormous, and pushing in all the time. If that lot slipped I don’t know what would happen, a bleedin’ eruption I should think.’
The rescuers were silent. The shaft was about ten feet in diameter and, as the guard had said, the safety of the diggings depended on the solid beams that crossed at right angles to each other at regular intervals all the way to the bottom. Huge wedges held the first timbers in position; massive they were and rising above the level of the platform. Sydney sidled to the rim and peered down. Below her she saw an electric light and another platform, and below that another and another until they became so small they disappeared.
‘Can’t see anything moving,’ said Sydney.
‘And you won’t,’ said the chief guard, ‘they’re too deep; they’ve been out of sight for months. There’s two at the bottom digging their hearts out, and another follows behind. Black feller!’
‘He’s black now all right,’ said another guard and he laughed.
‘He has to keep the whole shaft in good order,’ continued the chief, ‘otherwise, if those beams give way, any of ’em, why the whole shebang would collapse and kill ‘em all, not to mention losing the treasure.’
‘Still getting enough timber?’ asked Vulge.
‘We’re having a bit of trouble since the SBG arrived outside, still we’ve got enough to be going on with.’
Stonks glanced at the banks of the river. No one seemed particularly interested in what was taking place on the platform. It was time to begin; he had to get rid of the sentries. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’d better start our inspection.’ He looked at the chief guard. ‘Will you come to the first landing with me, I’ve already seen something there I don’t like the look of.’
Borribles Go For Broke, The Page 16
