All through the night they rowed and listened to Napoleon Boot, Navigator. As the hours wore on they realised what a serious thing the river trip was and they looked at each other with concern. Their minds grew numb with the physical effort and blisters rose on their hands and still Napoleon kept them rowing till they could row as well as any Wendle and could change course at the slightest order from the stern. Only when the sky had paled and dawn climbed over the blocks of flats along Battersea Park Road did Napoleon direct them to the lake-side. Thankfully the Borribles obeyed the command to ship oars and they sighed when they heard the prow of their boat grate on the gravel of the shore. They sat motionless for a while, their heads bowed, their muscles tight. Dodger who had done little all this time stood up in the prow, stretched, then jumped ashore.
"Come on, you lot," he said, "we've got to hide this boat before it's spotted by the keepers."
Nearby was a dense clump of bushes and the Borribles man-handled the heavy boat right into the middle of them. They stumbled and tripped over their own feet so tired were they, having been awake for twenty-four hours without a break. They tore foliage from the bushes and grass from the ground and camouflaged the boat so well that it could hardly be seen, even from a distance of a yard or two. When he was quite satisfied, Knocker ordered the team of Borribles back to base. It was full daylight by the time they reached the Prince's Head and the lines of lady cleaners were already chatting at the bus stops as the Borribles turned into Rowena Crescent. They climbed into the basement gym and crawled under the sleeping-bags and blankets which were laid out on the exercise mats. There were loud groans and sighs of relief as they closed their eyes and stretched their burning limbs but Knocker could not sleep for a while. He kept asking himself the same question over and over again. "Now we've got it, how do we get it from Battersea Park to Battersea Reach?"
3
Knocker need not have worried. By the time he awoke later the same day the problem had been solved.
It was not easy waking up; his body felt as stiff as a wire coat-hanger and he thought he'd never be able to move again. Even to open his eyelids and look at the ceiling took a concentration of all his effort into the necessary muscles. He turned his head and saw that Dodger was coming in through one of the windows with Napoleon. They were carrying steaming jugs and fruit and bread rolls. They had been up to the market for breakfast.
Knocker staggered to his feet, moving like a wooden doll with swollen joints. Napoleon landed gracefully on the floor and he laughed.
"You ought to be fitter than that, Knocker. Just as well you aren't coming on the trip, ain't it?"
Dodger laughed then and that got through to Knocker.
"All right, you two. If that's breakfast, hand it over and wake the others." Knocker sat down on a bench and poured himself a cup of tea and drank it. It was lovely. He poured another and tore at a roll with his teeth. Dodger came and sat next to him and helped himself to some food.
"Bingo's not here," he said conversationally. "He must have gone out."
"Of course he has, if he's not here," said Knocker irritably. "You're not very bright this morning."
"I mean out on a job," said Dodger and he stood up and looked down at Knocker unpleasantly. No Borrible likes to be told that he isn't bright. "Anyway, it's not the morning. It's the afternoon."
Knocker returned Dodger's gaze. "I'm sorry, Dodger, I didn't mean that. It's these aches and pains. Forget it."
"All right then." Dodger wasn't frightened of a quarrel, no Borrible is. "Chalotte and Sydney and Stonks and Torreycanyon are out, too," he said, looking straight in front of him.
Knocker jumped up, spilling his tea. "What?" he cried. "Gone off without permission, without saying where?"
"What's wrong, Knocker?" asked Dodger, genuinely surprised. "You can't expect Borribles to act like regular troops. They're not Rumbles. Borribles just can't do it, that's why we are Borribles, isn't it? I think you've been lucky to keep them together this far; most Borribles would have chucked it last night on the lake, but ours didn't, they stuck together. Miraculous really."
Knocker sat down again. "I'm worried," he said.
"I think," said Dodger wisely, "that you're jealous. You wish you were going on this adventure, you'd like to have a second name, even before others have got their first. That's not right, you know."
Knocker looked at his friend and sucked his cheeks in between his teeth to avoid showing emotion, but he showed it all the same. He didn't admit it to Dodger but he felt guilty for having overslept so badly and he was ashamed of having aches and pains when he should have been fitter than any of his companions.
"I'm worried about the Adventure," he insisted. "Will they manage it? Will the Wendles let them through Wandsworth without trouble? How will Napoleon behave? It's all a worry."
"They'll be fine," said Dodger. "Napoleon will turn out all right, even though he is a Wendle."
"He may be all right now, but what will he be like when he's back in Wandsworth?"
"Remember today and forget tomorrow," said Dodger, quoting from the Borrible proverbs. "I shall be glad to see Northcote Road again. Got some things I want to get on with."
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Chalotte who came in through one of the windows. She crossed the gym and stood in front of Knocker, breathless. Her cheeks bright with running, she shook her hair in that way that Knocker admired.
"Bingo said could we all meet him at St Mary's. He's had a plan," and she tossed her head again and laughed.
"What kind of a plan?" asked Knocker sternly.
"I couldn't tell you that, it would spoil the fun, it's not Borrible."
"I order you," said Knocker.
"You can order as much as you like. You said yourself yesterday that the Adventure had virtually begun. You're not going on the expedition, so you can hardly give orders any more." She turned and marched over to where the others were eating their breakfast, her cheeks no longer shining with exertion, but with anger.
"You ought to remember," said Dodger, "that they are feeling just as tense as you are. They know they are leaving tomorrow night, and they know that they may not be coming back."
"You're right, Dodger," said Knocker, forcing a smile. "I shall miss you when you go back to the Northcote, you know."
"Then you'll have to come down there sometime."
When Knocker had finished his breakfast and regained his temper a little he set off with Napoleon, Vulge and Orococco and they followed Chalotte and Dodger through the streets to Battersea churchyard. There, concealed in the long grass which grew between the big square tombs, they found Number Seventeen. Bingo and his fellow conspirators, dressed as members of the Battersea Sea Scouts, were loafing by the embankment wall.
"How did you manage it?" asked Knocker, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.
"Simple," said Bingo, with pride. "Rescued the uniforms from the Sea Scouts, shoved the boat onto a set of old pram wheels that I also liberated, and pushed the boat through the Park and down the street, as bold as brass. Got stopped by the Woollie on point duty in Parkgate Road but we told him that we were fund raising for the Sea Scouts and would be taking the boat back that very night; had the Head Keeper's permission, didn't we? Decent copper, held the traffic up for us to cross the road."
"That was a good 'un," said Torreycanyon. "I could hardly stop laughing."
The church itself was locked and the churchyard deserted, just the place for the Borribles and their boat. It was the quiet, dusty part of the afternoon and the lunch-time boozers were long gone from the Old Swan pub. The great factories and towering flats loomed around the tiny octagonal steeple of St Mary's like idiots surprised by beauty, and no one watched from the lofty isolation of their smoky windows.
Two high-masted sailing-barges were moored up against the river wall which skirted the graveyard; sturdy boats they were, constructed in polished wood. They had rigging climbing their solid masts and their gangplanks creaked and shifted backwards and forwards on the ground when the waves from mid-stream reached the bank. Napoleon looked at the boats, his greenish face greener with envy.
"I'd love to live on a boat," he said. "Look at them names, The Raven from Chester, The Ethel Ada, Ipswich, marvellous."
"We ain't got a name for our boat," said Bingo. "I mean we can't call it Number Seventeen all the time, can we? Not on an Adventure."
"Yeah," agreed Torreycanyon," Number Seventeen ain't near posh enough."
"What shall we call it?" asked Bingo, looking at the others.
Chalotte, who had been staring about her, suddenly pointed into the sky. "There's your name," she cried delightedly. "Look up there!"
Right behind the church, and dominating it completely, was a huge factory built from the pallid bricks of a dead and unlovely clay. Written across the blank wall in huge white letters they read: "Silver Belle Flour, Mayhew."
"We could call it The Silver Belle Flower, " said Chalotte. "You know, it sounds just wrong."
"It don't matter what we call it," said Knocker. "I name this boat The Silver Belle Flower, " and he kicked it by way of ceremony.