Gerald Durrell - Fillets of Plaice

We lit a fire on the beach and ate octopus and tiny cuttlefish that had been ensconced in the ice-box and followed this up with cold chicken and fruit.

“You see what a good idea it was,” said Larry, stuffing a great tentacle of octopus into his mouth, “to bring the ice-box.”

“Yes, dear,” said Mother, “I didn’t think it was a good idea at the time , but it has turned out to be very successful, although of course the ice is melting much more quickly on board the boat than it would do in the villa.”

“Oh, it’s bound to,” said Larry. “Still, it’ll see us out.”

That night the moon was so beautiful that we all lay in the shallow warm water and drank and talked. It couldn’t have been more peaceful when, suddenly, the air reverberated and the cliffs echoed with a series of pistol shots.

Unbeknownst to us, Leslie and Mactavish had taken Mother’s pearl-handled revolver to the farther end of the bay, where Mactavish was showing Leslie how rapidly you learned to fire when you were in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

“God almighty!” said Larry. “What the hell do they think they’re doing? Turning the bay into a rifle range at Bisley?”

“Gollys,” said Spiro, “I thoughts it was thems son-of-a-bitch Turks.”

“Leslie dear,” shouted Mother, “do please stop doing that.”

“We’re only practising,” Leslie shouted back.

“Yes, but you’ve no idea how much noise it’s making here,” said Mother. “It’s echoing back from these cliffs and giving me a headache.”

“Oh, alright,” said Leslie, disgruntled.

“That’s the trouble with Leslie,” said Larry. “He’s not aesthetic. Here’s a beautiful, warm sea and nice wine and a full moon, and what does he do? He rushes around firing off revolvers.”

“Well, you do things that annoy us,” said Margo indignantly.

“What have I done to annoy you?” asked Larry. “Nothing at all. I’m by far and away the sanest member of this family.”

“You’re about as sane as a..., as a lunatic,” said Margo.

“Now, now, dears, don’t quarrel,” said Mother; “you know it’s my birthday.”

“I will play for you,” said Sven, and he played a series of melodies which were soft and beautiful, even coming from an accordion, and they fitted the mood and the setting very well.

Presently we brought our mattresses ashore, spread them along the beach and, one by one, dropped off to sleep.

After breakfast the next morning we had a quick swim and got on board the boat. The anchor was pulled up and Taki started the engine. It coughed into life, we moved some six inches and then the engine died.

“Oh, God, don’t tell me we’re going to have engine trouble,” said Larry.

Spiro, scowling, went to consult with Taki. We heard them muttering together and then suddenly Spiro’s voice, like the roar of a bull, raised in anger, heaping obscenities upon Taki’s head.

“What the hell’s the matter?” said Larry.

“This stupids bastards,” said Spiro, red with rage, pointing a stubby, quivering finger at Taki. “This stupids bastards — if you will excuses this words, Mrs Durrells — forgot to gets any more petrols.”

“Why did he forget?” we all asked in unison.

“He says he meants to, but he forgot when he hads to go and gets the ice-boxes.”

“There you are!” said Mother. “I knew it! I knew you shouldn’t have moved that ice-box!”

“Now don’t start on that again,” said Larry. “Where’s the next place we can get petrol from?”

“Taki says it’s Metaloura,” said Spiro.

“Well, that’s simple enough,” said Mactavish. “We can row there in the dinghy.”

“I don’t know whether it’s escaped your notice or not,” said Donald, “but we have no dinghy.”

It was very curious that none of us had noticed this, for most benzinas, especially when doing a trip of this sort, trailed a small boat behind them.

“Well,” said Mactavish, flexing his muscles, “I’m as fit as a fiddle. I can swim there and get help.”

“No, Mr Mactavish,” said Spiro glumly, “it’s ten kilometres.”

“Well, you can land on beaches and things and have a rest,” said Mactavish. “Easily do it by nightfall. Be back in the morning.”

Spiro scowled thoughtfully and then turned to Taki and translated Mactavish’s idea to him. But Taki was vehement. As from this bay to the next bay where petrol could be obtained it was practically all sheer cliffs, there would be nowhere one could go ashore for a rest.

“Oh dear,” said Mother, “what are we going to do?”

“Well, just sit here,” said Larry. “It’s quite simple.”

“What do you mean, it’s quite simple?” asked Mother.

“Well, we just sit here and when a boat passes we signal it, and it will then go down the coast and bring us some petrol. I don’t know what you’re all getting so fussed about.”

“Master Larry’s rights, Mrs Durrells,” said Spiro dismally. “We can’ts do anythings else.”

“Anyway, it’s a delightful spot,” said Larry; “I mean, if we had to break down we couldn’t have chosen a better place.”

So we all got off the boat and sat about on the beach, leaving Taki sitting cross-legged in the bows of our immobilised craft, keeping a careful eye on the mouth of the bay for any fishing boat that could come to our rescue.

The day passed pleasantly enough but no fishing boat passed. and by nightfall Mother was getting increasingly agitated.

“I do wish you’d stop fussing, Mother,” said Larry, “there’s sure to be one to-morrow, and we’ve got plenty of supplies.”

“That’s just the point,” said Mother, “we haven’t got plenty of supplies. I didn’t bring enough to allow for a break-down, and in any case the ice is melting so fast that if we don’t get a boat to-morrow half the food will go bad.”

This was an aspect of our predicament which had not until then struck us. The little bay, with its towering cliffs, provided none of the amenities that Robinson Crusoe had found on his island. There was nothing but a tiny spring of fresh water that trickled down the face of the cliff and formed a stagnant pool in which Theodore had discovered so many forms of life that none of us felt it would be suitable for drinking should our supply of liquid run out.

“Muzzer is not to worry,” said Max, throwing his arms around her protectively. “If necessary ye vill all get behind de boat and push her back to Corfu.”

“Danmed silly suggestion,” said Donald. “Just the sort of suggestion a Continental would make. God knows how many tons she weighs. Couldn’t possibly push her.”

“I’m afraid Donald’s quite right,” said Mactavish. “Fit though I am for my age, I feel that even united as we are, we couldn’t get her very far.”

“I do wish you’d all stop carrying on like this,” said Larry irritably; “after all, this whole coast is littered with fishing boats. There’s bound to be one along sometime to-morrow.”

“Well, I hope you’re right,” said Mother, “otherwise I’m going to have to ration the food.”

“Also, I know it’s only a minor point, but some of these specimens I’ve got are quite rare,” said Theodore, “and unless I can get them back to Corfu fairly soon, I’m afraid..., you know..., because they are so fragile, they are..., you know..., going to disintegrate.”

We all went to bed in an uneasy frame of mind and Taki and Spiro took it in turns to sit in the bows of the benzina watching in case one of the night fishermen passed who they could spot by his carbon light. But dawn came and still there was no sign of rescue. To add to our plight, the ice — having decided to melt — was melting at an alarming rate and we had to dig a hole in the sand and bury quite a lot of the more delicate and perishable foodstuffs that Mother had brought. We had a very meagre lunch.