Read Borribles Go For Broke, The Online
Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
Borribles Go For Broke, The (21 page)
‘You three,’ he commanded, ‘stand by the big skiff there; you will take Flinthead to the platform.’
Spiff, Chalotte and Twilight ran to the water’s edge and stood by the boat. From everywhere came the sound of tramping and shouting, growing louder every moment. Spiff untied the skiff’s painter and waded knee-deep into the mud, holding the rope in his hands.
‘Stand smart on either side,’ he said. ‘Don’t look at Flinthead; just obey orders and let’s hope he’s so excited that his nose don’t smell us out.’
And then there came an increase in the rush of noise and it swept out of the tunnels like a wind and the Wendle chieftain, running at the head of his men, burst into view and strode to the
landing stage, crossing it immediately and heading straight for the river where Spiff held the boat steady against the shore.
landing stage, crossing it immediately and heading straight for the river where Spiff held the boat steady against the shore.
‘You Wendles,’ called Flinthead, addressing his bodyguard, ‘you will hold this jetty until my return.’ He stared towards the mine, his blank eyes burning. ‘Who rows me to the platform?’
‘Those three, Flinthead,’ said Norrarf, his voice shaking, ‘and me.’
‘Very well,’ said the chieftain. ‘I shall need six or seven warriors to come with me to the bottom of the mine to help with the prisoners.’
‘There are eight men on the platform now,’ said Norrarf, ‘ever since you ordered the guard doubled. They are eight of your best.’
Flinthead looked at his rowers and Spiff inclined his head and dragged the boat a little further into the mudbank. Chalotte and Twilight moved a little closer too, their bodies rigid with fear.
Flinthead stepped into the boat and it lurched. He strode over the seats and sat in the prow. Chalotte noticed the long knife in his belt; he kept his hand on it all the time.
‘Hurry,’ said Flinthead, ‘or I’ll know the reason why.’
Spiff shouted at Twilight and Chalotte, ‘Quickly you two,’ and they took their places by the slender oars. Norrarf followed and Spiff pushed the boat out into the flowing mud and leapt aboard expertly, like the Wendle he was.
‘Row, you fools,’ he shouted, grabbing an oar for himself, ‘row, there’s not a second to lose.’
The skiff breasted the current and floated slowly round to face the stream. On a word the four rowers leant to their task and the boat shot across the river. Flinthead turned in his seat and stared as the derrick drew near, his eyes steady.
In a moment or two the skiff bumped against the platform and the eight guards crowded forward to help their master disembark. Spiff was only a pace behind him, light-footed and tense like an alley cat.
The boat was firmly moored and Chalotte, Twilight and Norrarf clambered on to the wooden island while Flinthead himself shouted over the river to where Tron and his men stood in an orderly line on the far bank.
‘Tron,’ called the chieftain, ‘while I am down below you will take charge; get over here with your three lieutenants. Anyone who breaks rank or disobeys orders will answer to me as soon as I return, and no one is to move while I am gone, do you understand?’
Tron raised a hand to show that he knew what Flinthead wanted, then he stepped into a boat, three warriors with him, and they began to row towards the platform. Meanwhile, Flinthead directed his attention to the eight guards and gave them their instructions.
‘Two of you stay here,’ he said, ‘the other six will come with me. You won’t need your spears, just knives and catapults. Norrarf, you will aid Tron and see that my orders are carried out.’ And with one last bleak stare from his blank eyes the chieftain swung a leg over the rim of the shaft and went in search of his treasure.
As soon as Flinthead’s face had sunk beneath the level of the planking Spiff pushed himself into the group of Wendle guards.
‘’Ere,’ said one, ‘he wanted six of us, not seven.’
‘He gave me my orders earlier,’ lied Spiff. ‘I’ve got something special to do.’
‘Oh that’s different,’ said the Wendle. ‘You can go first then.’
‘Not a chance,’ retorted Spiff. ‘I’m to bring up the rear; I’ve got to make sure you lot don’t get lost.’ This sounded so much like one of Flinthead’s schemes that the guard believed it entirely and went quickly over the top, his five colleagues following him just as rapidly as they could. Spiff went last of all.
Chalotte watched him go. In that brief moment before he disappeared he glanced at her and she lifted a hand in farewell. She wanted to say something but dared not, for Tron was approaching the platform and coming within earshot. She smiled instead, for, when all was said and done and in spite of her dislike of him, Chalotte wanted Spiff to win, wanted him to conquer Flinthead and free the captives. But there was no need for words, Spiff knew what she was thinking and he returned her smile, his face looking as happy as she’d ever seen it. He was pleased with the danger and overjoyed at the unreasonable odds. That was how he wanted to live; and so he winked just once, ducked his head, and was gone.
Tron climbed on to the platform with his followers and went to stand by the mouth of the mine. On both sides of the river the bodyguards and warriors stood in ranks and kept the tunnel entrances clear. There were many hundreds of Wendles present and over the whole scene the tension tightened. Chalotte held her breath, waiting for the next stroke of her heart, willing it to come, dreading what it might bring. The world had slipped from its axis and was falling all the way down to the end of the universe.
Spiff reached the first landing and peered over the edge. Far below he could see the light reflected on Flinthead’s copper helmet. The Wendle chieftain was already two or three storeys ahead of his guards and travelling as fast as he could. Spiff swung himself out on to the second ladder and went after him.
The mine was built from rough planks which the Wendles had taken from old packing cases; the black stencilled letters of the original destinations were still visible: Cardiff, New York, Calcutta. Every fifteen feet or so huge beams had been hammered and wedged across the shaft in order to hold the shuttering in place and to support the landings. It was the shuttering, or vertical planking, that kept the mud at bay, straining against terrific pressures. There were hundreds of thousands of tons of that mud on the other side of the planks and Spiff could hear it slide and slither, searching for a way in, the shaft itself shifting and swaying like a great eel in the currents that surrounded it. Every bit of wood in the construction creaked and groaned all the time, every strut and every joist. A thick slime oozed through the cracks and knotholes and trickled everywhere, saturating everything, dripping slowly from one surface to another until it reached the very bottom of that deep, deep hole in the ground.
The air was heavy and it became more and more oppressive as Spiff descended. It was wet too and clung to his limbs like sodden clothing. Sweat trickled down his face and stung his eyes with salt and the mud that covered all began to cover him, making him smell like a cesspool rat. Far above, the tiny blaze of light that marked the top of the pit gradually diminished; then it disappeared.
Spiff spat. ‘I’ve got to overtake them guards,’ he said to himself. ‘Help them on their way.’
At the next opportunity he rested and stared down into the gloom. Every twenty or thirty feet the Wendle engineers had rigged an electric light and with their aid Spiff could see the figures of Flinthead’s bodyguards hastening in pursuit of their master.
‘This is no good,’ said Spiff. ‘I’ll have to start moving, I’ll have to jump.’ Having made the decision he lowered himself over the lip of the landing, to the full extent of his arms, and allowed his body to drop the fifteen feet to the floor below.
He crashed on to the planking and rolled over. The thump of his fall reverberated and fell and made the bodyguards look up in fear. A gobbet of mud slopped and twisted through the air and struck one of the Wendles across the face. He screamed in terror, convinced that the mine was about to cave in and squash him. Then he stood motionless for a long moment, allowing his companions to go on, and as soon as they were out of sight he began to climb upwards, his knees weak and his lips trembling. But Spiff was relentless, thundering from one storey to the next, and the noise and the mud fell again and again; it was like the footfalls of a giant taking great and regular strides.
Spiff was travelling fast and he soon overtook the hindmost of the guards, diving past him as he cringed on the rungs of a ladder, petrified by the appearance of this mud-covered figure rocketing out of nowhere.
There was another crash as Spiff landed and rolled, getting to his feet to beckon at the Wendle in the most friendly manner.
‘What you frightened of?’ he said. ‘We’re all chums together, you know.’
‘The mine’s collapsing, isn’t it?’ said the Wendle, scrambling down to join Spiff. ‘And it’s so spooky. I don’t care what I do as a rule but I wish I hadn’t been picked for this job.’
‘You will, certainly,’ said Spiff, and with a straight right arm he pushed the bodyguard backwards from the platform.
The Wendle shrieked and the shriek stood across the darkness like a bright light. Even high up on the banks of the Wandle they
heard it and there was not one person whose stomach didn’t shrivel at the sound. Spiff himself listened to the cry with satisfaction but there was no time for such contentment; there were still five Wendles between him and Flinthead.
heard it and there was not one person whose stomach didn’t shrivel at the sound. Spiff himself listened to the cry with satisfaction but there was no time for such contentment; there were still five Wendles between him and Flinthead.
He came upon two of those five only a little later. Spiff’s first victim, a dead weight plunging at great speed, had fallen on to them like a sack of spuds and had broken their bodies as effectively as any car crash. Now all three lay mangled together, groaning as the blood crept from their wounds to drip between the rough planks, and not far below the remaining guards knew the sticky touch of it on their hands and faces.
They were ready for Spiff when he appeared on the landing above them, and they were suspicious. They had heard strange bumps and bangs and had felt warm blood on their skins; something was wrong, very wrong. They loaded their catapults and aimed at Spiff’s head.
‘Gerrorf,’ said Spiff. ‘I’m just a member of the bodyguard, like you lot; you saw me at the top.’
‘What’s all this noise about?’ asked the biggest of the three Wendles. ‘And what’s all this blood?’
‘Ah,’ said Spiff, ‘you see one of your fellows lost his nerve and he’s gone back up again. As for the other two, well, one of them slipped and fell a couple of storeys all in one go and as he went he pulled his mate along with him. They’re a bit the worse for wear, they are, that’s why there’s blood about.’ Spiff grinned and without waiting for the Wendles to come to a decision began to climb down towards them, talking as he went.
‘This game don’t half make your legs ache, don’t it?’ he said cheerfully. ‘How much further do we have to go?’
‘Effin’ miles,’ said the big Wendle when Spiff had joined him, ‘and we’d better get a move on otherwise Flinthead will skin us.’ He studied Spiff closely. ‘Who are you then? You still haven’t said.’
Spiff shut an eye and tilted his head to one side. ‘My name’s Ratrap,’ he said. ‘I’ve only just been made a member of the bodyguard.’
The big Wendle seemed satisfied with this explanation and he
and his two colleagues stowed their catapults under their jackets and made ready to continue the journey. Spiff went with them to the top of the next ladder, making sure that he was the last in line as they each awaited their turn to go down. Then, as soon as the big Wendle had begun his descent, Spiff drew his knife, pressed his hand over the mouth of the guard who stood in front of him and quietly slit his throat.
and his two colleagues stowed their catapults under their jackets and made ready to continue the journey. Spiff went with them to the top of the next ladder, making sure that he was the last in line as they each awaited their turn to go down. Then, as soon as the big Wendle had begun his descent, Spiff drew his knife, pressed his hand over the mouth of the guard who stood in front of him and quietly slit his throat.
By now the big Wendle had arrived on the floor below and was shouting for the others to follow on. Spiff lowered his victim’s corpse to the planking and allowed the second Wendle to get his foot on the first rung, then he bent over and tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Yes,’ said the Wendle, raising his head. He was caught in an awkward crouching position.
‘Aren’t you the one with the whip,’ asked Spiff politely, ‘the one who’s been bashing Torreycanyon and Stonks about?’
‘Yes,’ answered the Wendle. ‘I’m good with a whip I am.’
‘A-mazing,’ said Spiff. ‘Well, life is full of little surprises and here’s one for you,’ and he lashed out with a fist, striking his enemy hard and knocking him senseless. As the body fell it curved over backwards and dived gracefully on to the head of the big Wendle, smashing open his helmet, splitting his skull and casting him down into the half-darkness. There were no screams this time; there was nothing but a silent and elegant flight followed by a distant and mortal thud.
Spiff put his knife away. ‘Beautiful flyers them two,’ he said, ‘just like the pigeons that live in Battersea Park … And now there’s only Flinthead. He’s got the treasure and I’ve got him.’
Spiff saw the lights at the end of everything long before he arrived there. He calculated that there must be at least four or five bulbs rigged round the perimeter of the diggings in order to make it easy for the miners to see what they were doing. Wherever the Wendles stole their electric power they certainly stole a lot.
Spiff was travelling slowly now, using the ladders rather than jumping, and all was silent again, except for the bellowing of Flinthead’s voice at intervals, ordering his guards to hurry.
Other books
Miles To Go Before I Sleep by Jackie Nink Pflug
Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) by Smith, Stephie
Gunpowder God by John F. Carr
Sensible Life by Mary Wesley
The Bark of the Bog Owl by Jonathan Rogers
Ep.#5 - "Rise of the Corinari" by Ryk Brown
The Rental by Rebecca Berto
The Dream by Harry Bernstein
Burn Down The Night by Craig Kee Strete