Джон Шеттлер: Nexus Deep

Nelson took the sheaf of papers from the Captain, reading that order carefully to make certain it was drafted as he wished. “Catching them by surprise is the key,” he said. “So this order was noted as most secret. I think it also wise to get a general order off to all ships in the fleet, that they are on no account to interfere with Captain Staines, or demand sight of his orders.”

“That’s been drafted as well, sir.”

“Good… Ah, this last one is a bit curious. I wonder what Lord Elgin has his hands on now?”

He read the order, with a half smile.

‘TO: Captain Charles Marsh Schomberg, HMS Madras .

Victory, At Sea, 2nd September 1804

Sir,

Lord Elgin having requested through Sir Alexander Ball that I would allow a Ship to call on Cerigo, to bring from thence to Malta some marble antiquities, and as I am perfectly disposed to meet his Lordship’s wishes on this occasion, I am to desire you will send a small Transport to Cerigo, with the first Convoy going up the Levant, and leave her there, for the purpose of receiving the antiquities before-mentioned on board till the return of the Convoy, when you will direct the Officer in charge thereof to call at Cerigo, and bring the Transport with his Lordship’s antiquities on board, safe under his protection to Malta, when Sir Alexander Ball will direct the disposal of them; and if it is intended to send them to England, you will give the necessary orders accordingly.

Much of the Admirals daily ritual was the dictation and drafting of these long-winded orders to various fleet units, a single sentence that, in this case, spanned an entire paragraph. Yet he was very thorough, always leaving no question as to what was desired and so ordered. To Alexander Ball at Malta he would also write a more succinct note, embedded in a long two-page draft . ‘I will Direct the Agent of Transports to send a Vessel to Cerigo with the first Convoy destined into the Levant for Lord Elgin’s things, if she will lay safely there, and one of our ships shall call for her upon her return.’

That brief sentence summed up his prior order nicely, but the Vice-Admiral would never know just what he had set in motion with his directive. Cerigo was the Venetian name given to the Island of Kythira, or Kythros in that day. It was the mythical haunt of Aphrodite and Eros, though the enchantments of love were the farthest things from the mind of Lord Elgin, who was a most industrious man.

His Lordship had been put on to the idea by the architect building his new home, “Broome Hall” in Scotland, a Mister Harrison. Since Greek artwork was all the rage in the Kingdom, why not obtain casts of some original Greek carvings, and then use them to decorate the new mansion? Appointed as Ambassador to Constantinople, Lord Elgin could stop off at Athens on his way there to look for suitable antiquities.

The Acropolis was a Turkish Army garrison site at that time, but Lord Elgin had been in Constantinople in 1800, just after Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt, and that service would put him in a good light with the Ottoman Turks, who controlled all of Greece and North Africa at that time. The British aid to the Turks in Egypt against Napoleon’s invasion had opened the door to Elgin obtaining permission, in a written “firman,” obtained by his Chaplain and Secretary, the Reverend John Hunt. The document was written by Hunt himself, seeking permission to view, draw, and model the art of the Parthenon frieze, make excavations and remove stones of interest.

It would lead to 10 months’ hard work, where Lord Elgin had as many as 300 workmen under his employ at considerable cost, but he would end up removing fifteen metopes, and seventeen pedimental fragments, one of which was the Selene Horse.

By a strange coincidence, the poet Byron was in that very place, staying at a hotel near the Acropolis, and one of the artists commissioned to copy the frieze met him there. The famous poet would later decry the dismembering of the Parthenon in his poem Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage , but he would also write a much more scathing satirical poem titled The Curse of Minerva (never intended for publication) in which he named Elgin outright. Many, like Byron, looked on Lord Elgin’s work as plunder and vandalism, while others called it an act of historical conservation, for the Acropolis was enduring considerable damage from the Turks. Some say his Lordship vainly wanted the art to decorate his home; others insisted that he had the more noble motive of enriching an understanding of the arts in England. Neither side ever knew of the treasure hidden in those ‘stones of little value,’ as Lord Elgin would often refer to them to put off the curiosity of others.

Like many who set themselves to meddling with antiquities, angry fates stalked them soon after. Minerva’s Curse was waiting to make its mark on Lord Elgin’s life. Satisfied the work was well in hand, he resolved to return to Britain, leaving instructions on how to transport the Marbles home. Yet neither he, nor his ‘antiquities’ would get to England any time soon. His Lordship was in Paris when the Treaty of Amiens collapsed, and was put under arrest. Bonaparte was laying plans to invade England, massing ships at Brest, Boulogne, and other ports, and a plot was hatched to falsely implicate Lord Elgin in a scheme to set the French Fleet at Brest on fire. Thankfully, it never came to fruition, and Lord Elgin would eventually be released.

His wife would travel home separately, having an affair with one of her escorts along the way, which led to a bitter public divorce. Lord Elgin himself would be afflicted by an ailment that disfigured his nose, and he would soon be unemployable, at least in any further governmental capacity. All he had left were the Marbles… and the secret that they hid beneath the finely sculpted lines of the Selene Horse.

While he languished in captivity in Paris, his precious ‘antiquities’ would suffer their appointed fate off the Island of Cerigo, when his ship, the Mentor, ran aground and sunk, taking all her cargo with it. Years would pass as his Lordship and his Agents worked at further expense to find, recover and salvage the lost artwork, and it is at this time that some unexpected ‘visitors’ would come into the story, in a most arcane and mysterious way….

“WellMum,” said Mack Morgan. “Having the blessing of the Prime Minister is one thing, but actually pulling this crazy mission off is quite another. Do you realize it’s over 1500 miles from Gibraltar to this island?”

“Cerigo?”

“I thought it was Kythros. Well, whatever it’s called, how do you suppose we get there? The Argonauts have inflatables and such, but nothing we’d ever get through that crevice entrance in the cave, and certainly nothing that would be suitable for traveling that distance in the Mediterranean Sea!”

“No,” said Elena, “I realize an inflatable is out of the question. But we have sea faring men aboard. Yes?”

“Yes, but then there’s the little matter of finding a ship.”

“Well, there has to be something suitable at Gibraltar.”

“No argument there. It’s likely there will be warships, patrol craft, merchantmen in the harbor, but all going about their business. Are you saying you intend to simply commandeer a ship? Then what? We can take five men, six at the most for a mission like this. That’s not enough to crew a ship that can get us the 1500 miles to the island.”

Captain Gordon MacRae had expected this sort of inquiry from Morgan. His intelligence chief was known to be a careful and thorough man, and not one to leave any detail of a mission like this unconsidered or accounted for. He simply smiled when Morgan gave him that wide eyed look that signaled his displeasure.