Gerald Durrell - The Donkey Rustlers

And so, from then on. the island became known as Hesperides and even the villagers had started calling it by this name. Prior to this the island had never been christened and had just been known, somewhat unfairly, as “the island with the monk on it.”

“Are you going out for the whole day, dear?” inquired Mrs Finchberry-White. “If so, I’ll pack you up a picnic.”

“Yes, we’ll go out for the whole day,” said Amanda, “but don’t bother, mother, it’s quicker if I pack up the picnic.”

“Good, dear,” said Mrs Finchberry-White with relief, “because I’ve got any number of flowers the villagers gave me that I want to press, and your father wants to paint.”

“Yes,” said the General, with satisfaction, swivelling round in his chair, screwing his monocle into his eye and peering at his hideous canvas with every evidence of satisfaction. “Should be able to knock that one off by sunset.”

“Well, come on, David,” said Amanda impatiently, “I want to get down to the sea.”

She went into the kitchen and rapidly and methodically packed a small haversack with the various foods that she thought were necessary for herself and her brother. She did not bother to take water, for the beach to which they were going had a spring that burst from the red and yellow cliffs, sparkled briefly across the sand and was then lost in the blue waters of the bay.

Amanda and David walked the half mile or so down the hillside to the beach. It was curious that though both brother and sister were devoted to each other, they very rarely spoke when they were alone together. It was only when they were out with Yani that they became exuberant and loquacious. They walked slowly down the rough track that led to the beach, happy in each other’s company and busy with their own thoughts. Amanda’s eyes darted everywhere as she made mental notes of the various wild flowers she saw and which she would collect on the return journey to take back to her mother. David watched the brown and blue lizards that scuttled everywhere under their sandalled feet and wondered how many lizards it would take — if all were suitably harnessed — to pull a cart. The air was warm and full of the scent of thyme and myrtle. They deposited their belongings on the beach, took off their clothes and plunged into the blue, lukewarm water.

Both in their different ways enjoyed their first day in Melissa; David found a baby octopus under a stone and they teased it very gently with a stick so that it would blush pink and iridescent green with annoyance and finally shoot off into deeper waters, like a balloon trailing its ropes behind it, leaving a smoke screen of black ink that hung and drifted in the still waters. Amanda found a contorted olive branch that had been washed clean and sandpapered by the sea and then bleached astonishingly white by the sun.

“I wonder why it is,” she said musingly to David, “that when nature produces something like this, it looks beautiful. And yet when Father tries to draw the same sort of tree, it looks so awful.”

“That’s because Father can’t draw as well as nature can,” said David, very seriously.

The two children stared at each other for a moment and then were convulsed with laughter and rolled giggling hysterically on the sand. Exhausted by their mirth they lay and drowsed in the sun for a bit, then ate their food, and swam a little more and then drowsed once again.

“Don’t forget we’ve got to meet Yani,” said Amanda, suddenly sitting up.

“Did he say what time?” asked David sleepily.

“No,” said Amanda, “but I suppose he means round about firefly time.”

“Well, we’d better be getting back then,” said David, squinting at the sun.

They trudged back up the hill slowly, sun-drugged, their bodies feeling rough from the salt as it dried on their skin. By the time they reached the villa, Amanda had gathered a large bunch of flowers for her mother and David had worked out, as well as he could without the aid of pencil and paper, that it would take 6,842,000 lizards to pull a cart He was a bit worried as to the exact number for, as he confessed to himself, he was not sure exactly of the pulling power of one lizard. He made a note that he would have to catch one and experiment.

“Oh, there you are,” said Mrs Finchberry-White. “I was just coming to look for you.”

The fact that she had not the faintest idea as to where the children had gone and that she would have had to search the entire island of Melissa in order to find them had apparently not occurred to her.

“What lovely flowers, dear. Thank you so much,” she went on. “I have had such a good day to-day. I found three new species just down below the terrace there.”

What did you have for lunch?” inquired Amanda.

“Lunch!” asked Mrs Finchberry-White, bewildered. “Oh, lunch. Well, we had something or other.”

“Did you have any lunch!” inquired Amanda ominously.

“I can’t quite remember, dear,” said Mrs Finchberry-White, contritely. “Ask your father.”

The General was out on the terrace putting the finishing touches to his painting by adding a virulent sunset behind badly drawn cypress trees.

“Did Mother give you any lunch!” inquired Amanda.

“Oh, there you are, my dear,” said the General. He stepped back and pointed at the canvas.

“What do you think of that, then?” he asked. “Powerful, don’t you think! Powerful.”

“Over powerful,” said Amanda callously. “Did you have any lunch!”

“Yes, they did,” said David, quietly materialising. “I checked with Agathi.”

“Well now,” said the General, splashing turpentine in vast quantities all over himself. “Did you have a good day?”

“Very good,” said Amanda. She glanced down at the olive grove and saw the first greeny, pulsating lights of the fireflies starting.

“It’s time we went to meet Yani,” she whispered to David. “Just go and make sure Agathi’s cooked us something for supper.”

“Why don’t you do it!” asked David.

“No,” said Amanda, with a certain self-consciousness. “I simply must comb my hair. It’s full of salt.”

So while Amanda combed her long golden hair and put on a frock which she thought suited her rather well, David gravely organised the menu with Mama Agathi; then, shouting to their oblivious parents that they were just going out for a minute, they made their way down through the darkening olive groves where the trees leaned in contorted attitudes as though gossiping to each other, and where every dark corner contained the friendly green light of a firefly passing by.

Under the olive trees it was nearly dark and the children could hear the musical calls of the Scops owls.

“I wonder what it is Yani wants to tell us!” said Amanda.

“I think it’s about his father,” said David.

“But his father died last year. It can’t be that.”

“I still think it’s something to do with his father,” said David stubbornly.

They made their way deeper and deeper into the dark olive groves where the trees crouched weirdly. their leaves whispering surreptitiously in the evening breeze. But there was no sign of Yani and so presently the children paused and stared about them.

“Where d’you think he is?” asked Amanda.

“Oh. I expect he’ll be along soon,” said David.

At that moment from behind the bole of a gigantic olive Yani leapt out at them suddenly.

“Watch out!” he hissed. “I’m the Devil!”