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.
The others knew he was upset about not going on the expedition so they ignored him, but they adopted the name because it was the only one they could think of.
They leaned against the embankment wall and looked across the broad sweep of the river to the gasometers and the Chelsea Flour Mills opposite. The surface of the Thames was an alarming greeny-grey colour and only the floating rainbow whorls of diesel oil and petrol brightened the dull water. The horizon was cut out in dirty brown and black against a sky of diluted yellow ochre, and the sun had not shone all day.
They should have been depressed and frightened but somehow the very extent of the sight inspired them all with pride and determination. The shift of the waves nudging clumps of rubbish downstream; the hooting of tugs and barges as they passed; the unmoving blocks of black smoke from Lot's Road Power Station; the smell, like varnish, of the Thames in London, all these things combined to make their hearts swell and they looked at each other and smiled modestly, knowing that whatever was before them, they would be equal to it.
But Knocker could not partake of this sensation. All he could think of was that he would not be going, so he broke the spell, shouting harshly at them. "Well, stop this daydreaming, let's get this boat in the water."
They got one end of The Silver Belle Flower onto the river wall, then the other. They lowered her gently down into a scum-covered rectangle of water between The Ethel Ada and the embankment. The garbage had become cornered here and looked firm enough to walk over, but the boat pushed its keel through and found enough water to float on.
"She'll be safe there," said Knocker. "We'll tie her up midway between the two boats. The Ethel Ada will think she belongs to The Raven and The Raven will think she belongs to The Ethel Ada. "
The Silver Belle Flower was firmly tied to a ring in the wall and, with one last look at the dark river, the Borribles turned and went back to the gym for a good meal and an early night. Just over twenty-four hours to wait and the expedition would be under way.
The last day was a day of rest for the Eight but not for Dodger and Knocker. They went first to report to Spiff about the boat and he was delighted. He sat at his desk in his orange dressing-gown, flicking through a huge book of Borrible Rules.
"That Ziggy was always a pessimist," he said. "I knew you would do it. A piece of pudding stealing a boat. He can't stop us now."
He gave them a cup of tea and told them to take it off with them and drink it downstairs in the store-room.
There was plenty to do down there. Knocker had to make the final selection of gear from the huge piles that the Borribles had collected from various shops. When the choice had been made he and Dodger would pack the items into the eight rucksacks but first they put the gear into eight separate piles and, so they would make no mistakes, they checked and double checked every heap. Each Borrible had a spare pair of boots and there were waterproof khaki trousers and fur-lined combat jackets to keep them warm at night when they would do most of their travelling. There were special woollen Borrible hats which were reversible, camouflage on one side and luminous reddy-orange on the other, so they could make themselves easy to spot if they wanted to. They would have a life-jacket each for the river trip and sharp long-bladed knives to wear at their belts. There were eight catapults too, with spare rubbers and pouches. Knocker and Dodger fingered the catapults lovingly. They were the best, as used by professional poachers, made out of polished steel and strong and springy. They had a long range and fired stones, marbles or ball-bearings with great power. To carry a supply of ammunition Spiff had acquired some old army money belts which had little pockets stuck on them; each pocket would carry a round and well-balanced stone. These belts could be slung across the shoulders like bandoliers and each of the adventurers was to carry two of them, giving them twenty shots per person. This meant that between them they had a fire power of a hundred and sixty rounds and the bandoliers were to be worn outside the combat jackets so that they would be easy to get at and the rate of fire would be very fast.
Spiff had also seen to it that every Borrible on the expedition had a waterproof watch on one wrist and a compass on the other, and in a pocket of each rucksack would be the A to Z map of the London streets. There were matches for lighting fires and a basic ration of food in case anyone got lost or separated from the others.
Knocker was pleased with the work he and Dodger had done. "Everything," he said, "except money."
At dinner-time Spiff came into the room with some food and he sat with them while they ate. He inspected the haversacks and asked what was in each one, making sure that nothing had been overlooked. He asked about the route, made suggestions, chuckled one moment, was grave the next. He stayed about an hour before he got up to leave.
"Well, life is all a chance anyway, boys," he said. "Our Eight have got a hard time in front of them but they couldn't have been better trained. I'd like to thank you, Dodger, for coming down here from the Northcote. I know you don't like leaving your manor, so thanks again; here's a little memento. "He pulled from his pocket one of the waterproof watches that the expedition had been equipped with. "The lads got a bit enthusiastic and got too many of them," he added by way of explanation. "It's engraved on the back."
Dodger turned the watch over and read out loud: "The Great Rumble Hunt. Dodger Borrible, Trainer. Good luck." He was delighted, Knocker could see that. The watch was one of those big army jobs with lots of different faces and hands and knobs on it.
"It's luminous, too," said Spiff. He looked at Knocker then. "Don't you worry, Knocker, there'll be something for you later on. I haven't got it ready yet."
Knocker nodded. "Thanks, Spiff," he said.
Still Spiff didn't pass through the door, though he'd had his hand on the knob for a long while. "I want you to bring the Eight here on the way to the boat," he said. "I'll want to say a last word to them, goodbye and good luck and all that."
Knocker felt tired and empty. All this talk about the final preparations and the leave-taking made him feel as if his life had finished. Everything was beginning for the others, for him all was ending. "Why, oh why," he thought, "do I have a name already!" Then he thought back to his own name adventure, and he shrugged his shoulders. "You have to take a name whenever you have a chance; if you go through life picking and choosing and waiting for what you think is the best occasion, why you'd never get a name at all."
At last Spiff turned to Dodger who was still looking proudly at his engraved watch.
"Look, Dodger," he said, "I'm not trying to get rid of you, but if you'd like to start off to the Northcote now, you can. It's quite a way but you'd make it before dark. You could pop into the gym and say goodbye to the team on your way and tell them to come here tonight, about elevenish."
Dodger stood up and strapped on his watch, saying, "I wouldn't mind, I've got something I want to do."
"Right," said Spiff. "That's settled, thanks again," and he left the room whistling.
When he'd gone Dodger coughed and looked at Knocker. "Hmm," he said after another cough, "I'd better go then. Cheerio, Knocker. Come down the Northcote in a day or two, stay with me. Good market we've got down there. It'll make a change for you, you know."
When Knocker just sighed Dodger said, "Cheer up, it's only right that every Borrible should get a chance."
"I know," said Knocker, "but adventures like this one don't happen every day of the week. Still, I'll be better once they're gone. I'll come down to you in a few days. I've been through the Northcote, never stayed, we'll have a laugh. We had a laugh here, come to think of it."
"We did that," agreed Dodger. "See you soon, eh—and don't get caught." And with that traditional farewell he went.
Knocker had a miserable afternoon and evening. He checked the haversacks over and over again just to give himself something to do. He meandered and mooched about the store-room until at last he went upstairs and rested on his bed in the room which he shared with Lightfinger. He hadn't seen Lightfinger for ages. How long ago it seemed, that night when they had found the Rumbles in Battersea Park and had captured one. How much had happened since then; now everything was ready. He gazed at the ceiling until he dozed and the noises of the street sounded further and further away.
It was dark when he awoke and he felt very cold, having neglected to creep under his blankets. He sat up and shook himself and rubbed his body vigorously to get the blood running warmly. Getting to his feet he groped for the light switch. What time could it be? Not that the others needed him any more but he would have liked to have seen them off. Hoping they hadn't gone already he made for the stairs and ran down.
On the landing he bumped into Spiff who was coming from his room with some papers in his hand. "Aha, there you are, Knocker," he said and beamed at the chief lookout. He was apt to make obvious remarks, was Spiff, but he only did it when he was feeling very friendly or pleased with himself. "Got your lads downstairs, just going to give them a word or two, can you come down?"
" 'Course," answered Knocker and followed Spiff to the basement.
The Eight were all present and correct. They too had had a restless time, though they had tried their hardest to sleep ready for the rigours of the night.
They looked very soldier-like, thought Knocker as he examined them. Warmly dressed, their hats cocked jauntily over their ears, they stood tense and straight, glancing occasionally at their watches or compasses. Most impressive and warlike of all were the double bandoliers of stones they wore and the shiny and lethal catapults stuck into their pockets. The Adventurers shone with health, their skins glowing, but they could not conceal their impatience. They wanted Spiff to say what he had to say and then let them get on with it.
Spiff rustled his papers. "You'll be off in a minute, then, so I won't keep you long. Your haversacks are all here ready, everything you need. Before you go, I just want to remind you of the object of your expedition. Whatever happens you must not forget it. It is to knock out the Rumble High Command, eliminate them. We want no more of them in our part of London. They must be shown that they can't come down here whenever they think they will and move on to our manor. Whatever happens to you, and we all know the dangers you face, if you eliminate your target, your name will be confirmed and remembered. You have the luck to be going on the greatest Adventure anyone has ever heard of. I wish I could come with you, but that of course is not possible. Finally, I would like to congratulate you on the way you have put up with the ardours of the training period—and with Knocker."
Everyone laughed politely and Knocker shuffled his feet and wished Spiff would stop making a speech and let everyone go.
But Spiff hadn't finished. "You've a long way to travel, a dangerous way, and a difficult, perhaps impossible task to accomplish and I'm sure I speak for all Borribles when I wish you the best of luck. And don't get caught."
Knocker and Spiff watched as the Eight Adventurers stepped forward with relief to pick up their rucksacks. With a nod for Spiff and a nervous smile for Knocker they left the room one by one. The last to leave was Napoleon. He stood by the open door, looking trim and dangerous, his eyes were bright and excited. His face broke into a cocky and unpleasant smile. "Sorry you ain't coming, Knocker," he said triumphantly, and he slid silently out into the darkness.
Knocker rushed across the room and shoved the door hard with his foot so that it slammed noisily.
Spiff sat down at the table and looked at Knocker's back while he opened the enormous Rule Book he'd been reading in his room that morning. "Come this way, Knocker," he said. "I've got your present over here."
"Stuff the present," said Knocker ungraciously. Then he turned round, came over to the table and sat down opposite Spiff, mumbling a barely audible, "Sorry."
Spiff ignored the apology as he had done the insult. "Well, here it is," he said. "I'm going to read it to you, only once, so you'd better listen, lovely bit of poetry this is." He licked his lips and glanced up at the clouded face that Knocker was presenting to him. "This is from The Borrible Book of Rules , para. 34, subsection 3a. I quote, 'No Borrible who is already named may go on any name adventure whatsoever, he may not even go on a non-name adventure if a Borrible who has no name wished to take precedence. This rule is unalterable and no exceptions may be made at all, ever.' "
Spiff drew a breath and ran his finger to a note at the bottom of the page.
" 'Except for the following exceptions.' " He pursed his lips to stop from smiling as Knocker looked up sharply.
" 'One. A named Borrible may take part in a name adventure when no other un-named Borrible is available. The choosing of the named Borrible in such a case will be by drawing lots.' "
Knocker looked down at the table again.
Spiff went on. " 'A named Borrible may take part in a name adventure when a vacancy occurs through accident or injury at the last moment and there is no time to draw lots.' " Spiff looked up. "That's a very useful one that is, very useful. Do you know, I've got five names myself, five adventures I've had, never believe it to look at me, would you? Oh yes, you have to know yer way round the old rule book, can't break the rules until you know the rules, but let's get down to exception 7/2. It's one I haven't used before." He coughed and put on a special voice. " 'When an expedition is considered to be exceptional and outstanding, a quorum of elected representatives may choose an "Observer or Historian" to accompany the expedition to record its deeds. He may act in an advisory capacity only, taking no part in the actual adventure, be it fighting or stealing, etc. etc.' ". He paused for effect, " '—until such time as all members of the adventure have won their names by performing the tasks allotted to them. At that time the Observer-Historian becomes equal with the expedition and may join entirely in the expedition. It is understood that during the expedition the Observer keeps a record of the deeds of each of the expedition's members for entry into the records on return.' "
Spiff closed the book with a bang and looked at Knocker who was dying to smile and laugh and shout all at the same time but didn't want to in case he'd misunderstood.
Spiff winked and jerked his head in his crafty old way. "How would you like to be an Observer-Historian, Knocker? Never been one of those, have you?"
"No," said Knocker breathlessly, his heart thumping.
"Well, we need a quorum to approve the appointment, that's four in this case." Spiff gave a yell and the door opened and three stewards from houses further up the High Street entered the room. Without turning his head Spiff said, "All in favour say 'Aye.' "
"Aye," said the three Borribles together, then they did an about turn and left the room, closing the door behind them.
"Gotta keep it legal," said Spiff, jerking his head yet again.
He rose to his feet. "Right, Knocker, your clothes are in the cupboard, and a knapsack, everything's there, I did it myself. Get changed. Don't want you to miss the boat, eh? Ho, ho!"
Knocker dashed into the cupboard and threw off his every-day clothes and got into the set of expedition gear that was hanging ready behind the door. As he changed in great haste Spiff talked to him, for he had much to say before Knocker left.
"Don't worry," he began with a chuckle, "they don't know you're coming but they won't go without you. I sent Lightfinger down there with some cock-and-bull story. He won't let them away till you arrive." Spiff was silent for a minute or two, watching Knocker's preparation with more attention than the event deserved. "Do you want to know the real reason why you're going?" he asked at last.
Something in Spiff's manner made Knocker stop tying his bootlaces and he listened intently, observing that the steward's voice had lost its normal speechifying tone.
"Real reason?" he queried.
"Yes, the real reason. Look, you will have to be Historian, write it all down when you get back and all that load of old cobblers, but it don't really matter, see, long as it looks like you obey the rules, but as soon as they have won their names or look like winning their names, brother, you move."
"Move?"
"Double fast," Spiff said, his sharp expression getting sharper. "If you read the Rumble manuals really closely, like I have, and do, you find that they hint about some money they've got hidden somewhere, tons of it. We need that money down here, Knocker, and you're the Borrible to get it. You've gone through the same training as the others, you're a first-class shot with the catapult, you can run like a thirty-four tram, and you've got experience and expertise. You won't do anything rash, though you'll do what's needed when it is. Moreover, I know that you want a second name more than anything on earth. That's why you're going, Knocker, that's why I've been going through the Rule Book. Bring that money back here, son, where it belongs, but whatever you do, don't tell anyone what you're up to, especially Wazzisname Boot. He may be all right, he may not. I know that lot along the Wan-die. Above all, watch out for one called Flinthead. If you get on the wrong side of him, your life won't be worth a fart."
Knocker's face paled, not with fear but with anticipation. "But this is an Adventure within an Adventure," he said, coming closer to Spiff.
"That's right, Knocker, it is. I'll see you get your second name all right, but it's going to be bleedin' dangerous and don't think it isn't."
As Knocker checked the contents of his haversack, Spiff told him a lot more things, secret things that no one was to know but the two of them, and Spiff emphasised again and again that Knocker was to share these secrets with no other member of the expedition, otherwise disaster would surely follow.
At last Knocker struggled into his haversack straps and stood impatiently by the door.
"A second name, eh? I'd best be away then."
"That's about the size and shape of it," said the steward.
Knocker opened the door and saw outside the dark, exciting night. He looked round one last time. "Goodnight, Spiff, and thanks. Don't get caught."
"Don't you get bloody well caught," said the steward, gruffly, and then Knocker stepped out into the basement area and closed the door behind him.
Once in the street he looked up through a fine rain to the few stars in the sky and thanked his lucky ones. Then he took a deep breath and ran with a loping stride down the High Street and towards Battersea Church, the knapsack bumping on his back. The streets were empty and shone damply in the reflected light of the street lamps. The sound of his footsteps echoed energetically from the wet walls of the black buildings and Knocker's heart sang and bubbled within him; he could still not believe it. He was going, going on the best expedition he'd ever heard of.
About twenty yards from the churchyeard he stopped running and listened carefully. He didn't want any trouble at this stage. Lightfinger rose from behind a dustbin.
"Knocker," he whispered.
"Knocker," answered the chief lookout.
"It's okay, over here."
Knocker went forward and patted Lightfinger on the shoulder. "I'm going," he said.
"I know," answered Lightfinger. "You must have lost your marbles. This expedition is madness."
Knocker crossed the churchyard and climbed onto the wall and looked down at the water. The boat was there, rocking gently in the slight swell that came from midstream; the oars were out and Napoleon was giving gentle commands to keep the boat from banging against The Raven. The water lapped at the sides of The Silver Belle Flower and the scum and muck on the water grated against the embankment. Seven white faces and one black one looked up as Knocker jumped down into the boat. He saw the amazement there and his heart felt warm inside him. He wondered how they'd take it. He hoped they didn't mind him coming on their Adventure, but he didn't care. It was his Adventure, too, now. Whatever they said, whatever they thought, he was going.
Knocker had boarded at the stern, by the rudder, and he sat down and faced Napoleon, who was in the stroke seat.
"I'll row, you steer," said Knocker putting his face close to Napoleon's.
"What do you mean?" asked the Wandsworth Borrible, half rising.
"I mean," said Knocker, "that I'm coming with you."