The Schoolboy Stowaways' Great Adventure!
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rdlast bell at King Alfred's—King Fred's to its pupils—had rung for the ay and boys were making their way to the School House to wash up before supper.
Three seniors had decided to take a short cut through the school orchard which, strictly speaking, chaps were not supposed to do. The apples were kept out of bounds to would-be saumpers.
But Winker Watson, Scotty Scott the Scots boy and their leader, tall, square-jawed Tom Windsor, were in a hurry. That morning Winker's Aunt Jemima had sent a big package which they were keen to open in the privacy of their study,
Aunt Jemima's parcels were famous for the feeds they contained: mountains of apple pies, ginger cake and treacle tarts. The three were in a hurry to open the parcel and scoff the lot before word got out to the other boys.
With that to look forward to, scrumping rotten old apples was the last thing on their minds. But the Terrible Three, as they had become known at King Fred's, could not resist the temptation to pick up windfalls and bowl a few googlies at imaginary stumps.
Scotty though short, was the sn-ongest of the boys and rather fancied himself as a wizard of the nets. "Watch this?" he yelled, letting fly a Cox's pippin in the direction of the caretaker's shed.
The "ball" spun through the air, twisting in so many directions it would have confused a really top-hole batsman.
Smash? It certainly confused Harry Bates the caretaker—Old Grizzlewhiskers to the fellows—when it smashed between his eyes sending his cap flying.
Unknown to the boys Bates was in his shed putting some tools away. He stepped out just as Scotty's flying cannonball entered the same molecule of space as his florid, whiskered face.
"Cripes! That's done it?", yelled Tom Windsor. "Run for it!" If they fled the scene quicklythere was a good chance Old Grizzlewhiskers would remain stunned long enough not to recognise the escaping culprits.
But Harry Bates had been in that scrap with the Kaiser and possessed remarkable powers of recovery for someone who was nearly thirty-five. What's more he possessed a fierce black dog which had followed him out of the shed. It began barking as Harry began yelling. "Grrr! I'll get you for this you blighters!"
The boys turned to see caretaker and dog loping after them. They ran out of the school gate and down the hill toward town.
At the bottom of the hill they turned left and ran between startled shoppers past the cake shop, the greengrocer's and Blenkin's the Butcher. They ploughed on past the Regal Cinema, the Orchid Ballroom and the funeral directors reputed to be haunted by the ghost of Jack the Ripper—as a former head of King Fred's was known, Bates was gaining ground and looking fiercer by the moment while his black dog Winston pounded forcefully along, froth slavering from a fine set of fangs.
Puffing from exertion the boys turned into a side road near the end of the high street. They hoped to give Old Grizzlewhiskers the slip by executing a few back doubles.
But they were trapped. On their right lay a row of terraced houses. At the end of the street a high wall blocked escape. On their left stood a small factory—"Grandma Higgins Fancy Pies & Biscuits" read a sign.
Outside in the street men were loading boxes into a lorry. They went inside for more boxes.
"Quick", yelled Tom Windsor, 'into the lorry!"
Scotty and Winker didn't need to be told twice. Their bottoms were imagining what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of Winston's gnashers. The Terrible Three clambered over the tailgate and squeezed past boxes to make their way to a tiny space behind the cab. There they crouched, shivering.
Thump! The boys felt the lorry shudder as Winston's front paws pounded at the tailgate. "Are they in there boy?", Bates asked hoarsely. "Wait till I get my hands on them. Wait till I get my hands on you horrors?", he roared, his shadow blocking the light as he levered himself onto the lorry.
"Well, what have we got here lads? A right little tealeaf, I'd say," came a voice. It was one of the loading men, back with more boxes, Bates's bulky frame disappeared from view and the boys heard him protesting. "You don't understand, them hooligans scrumped me apples then threw a rock at me."
"Don't give us that codswallop," said the loading man, "You're just after them pies and biscuits, we know your thievin' sort. Be off with you afore we call the cops," Bates and dog were forced to leave.
Someone locked the tailgate and tied the curtains at the back of the lorry. The three boys crouched in the gloom. "What do we do now?," whispered Winker, the smallest and cheeriest of the three, "Apart from having a jolly good feed?" "Let's not get into any more trouble than we're already in," reasoned Scotty sensibly.
"Scotty's right," agreed Tom, his handsome features furrowing into a frown. "We'll wait until the coast is clear, undo this tarpaulin at the side, climb out and slip back to school. With any luck Old Grizzlewhiskers didn't get close enough to see who we were."
The truck rocked slightly on its suspension. Someone was climbing into the driver's cab. They heard more voices. "Cheerio, Tom, don't come back with too many onions." The driver's voice replied, "I'll make sure I send you lot a French letter." This last remark was met with throaty guffaws, drowned as the powerful engine started up.
"Don't worry", whispered Tom, "we'll slip out when he stops for a cup of tea."
But there were to be no stops until the lorry reached its destination. A small window at the back of the cab, covered with a wire grill, let some light seep into the boys' prison.
They could tell the sun was going down and evening approaching. More than an hour passed while the steady, uninterrupted hum of the engine suggested they were in open country—off to some mystery destination where folk eager for Grandma Higgins Fancy Pies & Biscuits waited in hungry anticipation. After a while the sun faded and darkness fell. The boys, worn out by their great adventure, dozed off.
They were woken by the sound of clanking chains. The lorry had stopped. After a few moments it began to rock, as though in the grip of a giant hand. The boys felt their stomachs sink. The lorry was in motion again—but this time it was going upwards!
Scotty gripped the tarpaulin curtain sides with his strong hands and managed to prise open a gap. "By George, we're in the air!", he cried. And so they were. The three faces peered through the gap in astonishment.
The lorry was being winched by chain onto the deck of a cargo ship. Winker tried to see the bright side. "Maybe we can join the Foreign Legion," he suggested.
"Shut up, you fathead!" hissed Tom Windsor severely. The lorry swung out from the dock above the ship and was lowered onto the deck where invisible hands lashed it into place. The Terrible Three pooled ideas. They had to surrender but how would they explain what they were doing there?
Winker came up with the best idea. "Let's wait until no one is around, sneak out of here and tell the captain we were on a school trip round the docks but got on the wrong ship by mistake." "I was going to suggest that," said Scotty jealously.
"No, you weren't, fathead," said Winker.
"Stop arguing you two," said Tom Windsor, "I bags we wait till the coast is clear then give ourselves up. We can say we got left behind on a schooltrip."
"That's the same as my idea," protested Winker. "It's the same, but better," said Tom.
The boys were still arguing when a horn blew and the ship moved out to sea. Scotty's strong hands prised open a small gap in the curtains. "Well, well, what have we here?" said a man leaning against the ship's railings, puffing at a pipe.
The game was up. Within moments the man opened the back of the lorry and the boys were forced to crawl over the crates and drop shivering onto the deck. The man looked them up and down.
Under his stern gaze, all stories of a school trip were quickly forgotten and they blurted out the truth. The man puffed at his pipe. He had a brown, weatherbeaten face and his rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed tattooed forearms. One tattoo read "Knight of the Road", another said "Rose" in purple letters across a red heart.
"We weren't after your biscuits, sir," said Tom Windsor. The man's face broke into a slow grin. "Aye, but you'll be hungry, nonetheless. Come with me."
He led them below deck. Other men looked up as they entered a galley. "What have you got there, Bert?", called one. "Ship's rats," said Bert.
The three boys said nothing. Soon they were tucking into big plates of fried potatoes and eggs washed down with steaming mugs of sweet tea. The fried potatoes were replaced with deep dishes of sponge pudding and custard. Bert Biggins, their driver, lit his pipe and puffed at it slowly.
"Tell you what," he said at last, "I can see you boys like an adventure. I have to tip me load in France—then I drive back. You can tag along if you like and I'll make sure you get home in one piece."
"If that's all right with you sir," said Tom Windsor. "I'm not Sir anything," said Bert, "I'm a lorry driver—call me Bert."
"Yes Sir Bert," said a very tired Tom Windsor.
It was still dark when the lorry drove out of French docks and headed South. Bert had rearranged the crates in the back so that the boys were comfortable. When the sun rose they took turns sharing the cab with Bert. He puffed at his pipe. Once he asked Tom Windsor, "What do you want to be when you grow up, young 'un?"
"You've got a ripping job sir, er, Bert," said Tom, "The open road and all that."
"It is a fine job", agreed Bert, "until they let any fool have a go at it." The boy nodded sleepily. They pulled into a farmyard in the country Bert parked by the gates and they walked up to the house. He signalled to the farmer and his wife that they were prepared to pay for a place to rest and some food. The boys helped out with their schoolboy French. "je voudrais reserver une table pour quatre," said Tom Windsor.
A dark-haired girl walked across the yard carrying a milk pail. The farmer and his wife spoke to her. She replied in French. She turned to Bert. "My parents do not run a restaurant", she said in English, "but you are welcome to our simple hospital."
"Hospitality?" said Winker. "You are welcome," she said. They followed her into the house. The farmer, whose name was Henri de Valle, stoked the fire while his wife, Michelle, busied herself over a cauldron of bean and beef stew, into which she poured large glugs of a rich red liquid. The girl, whose name was Nicoline, poured generous helpings of the same drink into tumblers and set them before the driver and his young charges.
Scotty sipped at the wine. "We only get pop like this at Christmas," he remarked. "What is this pop?", asked the girl.
Tom Windsor looked at her levelly. She was about his age and in the light of the oil lamp her hazel eyes changed hue and her face coloured. "At home we are only allowed this on special occasions," he explained.
"For some people every dinner is special," she said. Then she laughed. And her long hair shook like a tree in a storm.
The boys giggled. Bert grinned. She explained to her parents what had been said and they laughed. Then everyone laughed together. And Nicoline poured more of the rich red liquid.
The boys slept in the barn that night, wrapped in blankets on bales of straw, Bert slept nearby for a few hours. Then, wary of Grandma Higgins wrath should her cakes go missing, crept out to sit in his cab and puff at his pipe and look at the stars and think of all the "Roses" he had known in his years on the road.
In the morning Bert and the lorry were gone. At first the boys thought he had left to fill up with fuel. They went into the house. Madame de Ville filled their plates with eggs and placed long loafs of hot bread before them, She poured mugs of strong coffee and set out a plate of pastries.
When they could eat no more they waited. Nicoline came in. She said she was worried about Bert. "There are signs of, how you say, a struggle," she said.
Bert's pipe and cap had been found near the gate and during the night she heard muffled yells but thought she was dreaming. Tom Windsor took charge. 'This is more of an adventure than we thought, chaps. Let's send out a search party!'
"Righto!", said Winker. The girl said the family had two bicycles and they must go at once.The situation was explained to her father, Henri, who hitched up his horse and trap and set off to town to alert the gendarmerie.
Nicoline produced two sturdy black bicycles. Scotty and Winker climbed onto one, Winker on the crossbar to allow Scotty's strong legs to pump the pedals. Tom Windsor took charge of the other until Nicoline insisted on the saddle—"In France, the boys do not let the girls suffer the bar cross," she explained. He had no way of knowing the truth of this but allowed her to have her way.
She pedalled firmly down the lane out of the farm and along the country road followed by Scotty and Winker. The foursome looked for telltale signs of Bert's disappearance as the sun rose over the valley and a cock crowed in the distance.
The thieves had not hidden their night's work well. All young detectives are suspicious of tyre tracks leaving the road at unexpected places—the muddy entrance to a deserted farm showed the big tracks of the Bedford quite clearly.
The four dismounted and made their plans. Scotty's strong hands lifted both bikes behind a hedge.
"What a great adventure this is turning out to be," exclaimed Winker. "Shut up fathead," said Scotty. "Oui, silence your fat 'edd," agreed Nicoline.
It was decided that Scotty and Winker would wait at the farm's entrance for Henri and the police while Nicoline and Tam went ahead to see what had happened to Bert.
Nicoline squeezed Tom's hand and they set off toward the deserted farm house. She explained that the farm had been sold but the new owners were yet to arrive. They saw the lorry parked outside the main building, apparently unharmed. They sneaked up. Grandma Higgins' cakes and biscuits were still in there in sealed boxes. She gripped Tom's hand. "Are you brave?" she said. They crawled on their bellies and peeked through the farmhouse window. Bert was in a corner handcuffed to a chair while two men in long trenchcoats stood over him. A fourth man slumped in a chair shaking his head. The men in trenchcoats spoke to Bert in English, "You were seen leaving the country with the boys—where are they now?"
"I tell you they're safe and sound," said Bert. "They strayed by accident onto the ship."
"I can vouch for that," piped up Tom Windsor walking into the room. The man slumped in the chair turned to face him. It was Old Grizzlewhiskers himself. "Where's the rest of the Terrible Three?" he exclaimed.
"Within spitting distance," replied Tom levelly, "What are you doing here?"
Harry Bates looked repentant. "I knew you were in that truck but by the time we got to the docks the ship had sailed,"he moaned,"I thought you'd been kidnapped. We arrested your driver picking up fuel at a garage this morning" He had hardly finished his explanation before the door burst open and the room filled with gendarmes.
They forced the two English plain clothes policemen onto the floor and freed Bert Biggins. "This driver is the kindest man on earth," said Tom Windsor, "You should have listened to him in the first place."
Winker and Scotty crouched in a corner eating chocolate croissants given to them by the French police. Tom and Nicoline walked out toward the cypress trees sheltering the farmhouse. "You are a brave boy, Tam Windsy," she said, and she kissed him on his cheek. He returned the kiss but on her lips.
They ignored his two chums, who had snuck up on them. "We've seen you snagging a girl, Tom Windsor," they jeered, munching at their pastries.
Bert Biggins walked up and hushed the Terrible Two. He took them to his lorry and they checked his load was intact. "Best if you and your pal go home when you're ready," said Bert, "I have a load to tip, you've got homework to catch up on."
They all agreed they'd had a ripping adventure. Tom and Nicoline exchanged addresses and she said she was coming to England in the summer to improve her English. "I'll do whatever I can to help," he said.
Bert climbed into his cab, "There's folks waiting for these cakes."
"Rather!", said Winker. "Shut up fat 'edd," said Nicoline, quietly, gripping Tom's hand. They waved as Bert drove away and they were still waving when the lorry disappeared over the brow of the hill, leaving a faint cloud of dust.
El by Patric Cut-mane