Gerald Durrell - Fillets of Plaice

There was an “ah” of affirmation from the crowd. “These people are paid for their work,” said Larry. There was much nodding and “yes, yes, yes”. “But when they find the water,” Larry continued, “the water must belong to everyone.”

Now he was speaking a language they understood, for water and bread were the two life-giving things of any community.

“Sometimes the people who search for water find it and sometimes they don’t,” said Larry. “This kyrios sometimes finds money in people’s beards and sometimes does not. He was lucky that you have a good mayor here and that he found money. He found nearly nine thousand drachmas. Now, because he is a good man and a kind man, he has agreed not to charge his normal fee.”

There was an “ah” of pleasure, mixed with incomprehension at such generosity, from the crowd.

“But there is one thing he would ask you as a favour,” said Larry; “that the mayor spends this money for the good of the whole village.”

This was the point where the mayor looked extremely glum and the crowd applauded.

“Because,” said Larry oratorically, having consumed vast quantities of wine, and getting into stride, “when you find money, as when you find water, it should belong to everyone.”

The applause was so great that the few words the mayor mumbled were completely lost in it.

“I think, you know, perhaps now is the time to go,” said Theedore, “on a high note, as it were.”

We marched down the village street with the entire crowd following us, all of them jostling to pat Mactavish on the back or shake his hand. And so by the time we reached the jetty Mactavish was beginning to feel that he was the Mountie to end all Mounties and it had been well worth the loss of fifteen pounds to have this adulation. In fact, our take-off was delayed for some minutes because the mayor insisted on kissing him on both checks and embracing him, whereupon all the other elders of the village had to do the same.

At last he joined us on board, flushed with success.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he said, “it’s just a matter of knowing how to deal with primitive people.”

“Well, that’s the last village on this coast that I’m going to visit, and as it’s my birthday I feel that somebody ought to take my wishes into consideration,” said Mother.

“But of course, Muzzer dear,” said Max. “We vill now find you a nice place to eat.”

The anchor was pulled in, the engine was started, and above the reverberating chug-chug-chug of the engine we could hear the villagers shouting good wishes and clapping as we headed on our way down the coast.

At lunch time we found an enchanting long beach of soft white sand and as Taki, the previous evening, had put his lines out and caught some kefalia , Spiro built a charcoal fire on the beach and grilled these delicious fish.

Sven, Donald and Max, still worried by the fact that they had nothing concrete to give Mother for her birthday, concocted a sort of entertainment for her. Sven, who was a sculptor, constructed an enormous nude woman out of damp sand, which Mother was forced to admire, and he then played his accordion for her, fortunately not choosing Bach but playing quite gay and sprightly tunes.

Donald and Max went into a huddle and presently they consulted in a secretive manner with Sven, who nodded his head vigorously.

“We’re now,” said Donald to Mother, “going to dance an old Austrian dance for you.”

This, from the incredibly British and normally introvert Donald, came as such a surprise that even Larry was speechless. Sven crashed into an exceedingly vivid piece of music which was not unlike a mazurka, and the tall and gangling Max and the medium-sized, pale-faced Donald solemnly bowed to each other and then, holding hands, proceeded to dance. To our astonishment they did it remarkably well, prancing and twirling on the sand, with complicated moments where they had to slap each other’s knees and hands and then leap in the air and slap their legs, and other intricate manoeuvres of this sort. They reminded me irresistably of the Gryphon and the Mock Turtle dancing the Lobster Quadrille in Alice in Wonderland . When they came to the end of their dance, so good was it that we all spontaneously burst out clapping, whereupon, beaming and perspiring profusely, they gave us an encore with a different tune.

After our corps de ballet had had a swim to cool off, we all lay on the sand and ate delicious, succulent fish with the lovely smoky, charcoaly flavour on their charred skins, and rounded off the meal with a variety of fruits.

“Well, that really was a lovely birthday lunch,” said Mother. “I did enjoy it. And Sven’s playing and Donald and Max’s dancing made it absolutely complete.”

“Ve’ll have a birzday dinner,” said Max. “Let’s go on to anozzer beach and have a birzday dinner.”

So once again we got ourselves on the boat and headed off down the coast. The sun was just setting and the sky was beautifully smeared with red and green and gold when we came to what seemed to be the ideal spot. It was a tiny, rounded bay with a small beach surrounded by towering cliffs which glowed almost tangerine orange in the setting sun’s light.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” said Mother.

“Here ve’ll have de birzday dinner,” said Max.

It really was a breathtakingly beautiful spot in the dying rays of the sun.

Spiro had told Taki that we would make this our landfall for the night. It was unfortunate, however, that it was a bay that Taki had never been into before and so he did not realise that across one part of it was a sand bar. He nosed the benzina into the bay at a fair speed and so was upon the sand bar before he realised it. We came to a sudden and shuddering halt. At that precise moment Mother was standing in the stern admiring the sunset and so the boat’s sudden halt threw her off balance and she fell overboard. Now, although she did occasionally deign to lie in shallow water in very hot weather, she could not swim. This everybody, with the exception of Taki, knew. So in unison the entire company leapt overboard to rescue her — including Spiro, who simply adored Mother but who couldn’t swim either. The result was complete and utter chaos.

Donald and Max dived on top of each other and banged their heads together. Leonora, in diving, caught her foot on the side of the boat and gave it a nasty gash. Margo, under the impression that Mother was under the water instead of on top of it, dived deep and searched frantically for her body until her breath ran out and she was forced to surface. It was Leslie and Mactavish who seized Mother, for Larry had suddenly realised that Spiro could not swim and he was going down for the third time when Larry rescued him. But all the time he was sinking and rising in the water, Spiro was shouting, “Don’ts you worry; Mrs Durrells, don’ts you worrys!” in between spitting out great mouthfuls of seawater.

Leslie and Mactavish towed the panting, spluttering Mother to the shallow water of the sand bar where she could sit and cough up the seawater she had imbibed so freely, and Larry towed Spiro there so that he could do the same. Then, when they had recovered sufficiently, we got them back on board and had to give Mother a stiff brandy to recover from the shock and to give Spiro a stiff brandy for him to recover from the shock of seeing Mother falling into the water.

“Gollys, Mrs Durrells,” he said, “I thoughts you’d be drowns.”

“I thought exactly the same thing,” said Mother. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in such deep water in my life.”

“Neithers have I,” said Spiro seriously.

With the united efforts of us all pushing from the sand bar and Taki putting the engine into reverse, we got the benzina free and Taki, having examined the lay of the land, turned it slightly and we got into the bay without any further difficulty.