The jetty was constructed out of weather-beaten planks and the upright struts were of cypress wood. It was a strong enough jetty in its way, but it had been in existence for some considerable time. It had not, however, been designed to carry ice-boxes of the calibre of this one, and so as the panting, sweating crowd of peasants got to the middle of it there was a roaring crash and they and the ice-box fell into the sea.
“Bloody fools!” shouted Larry; “Bloody fools! Why didn’t you look where you were going!
“It’s not their fault. The planks have given way,” said Leslie. Yani had fallen so that both his feet were under the ice-box, but fortunately the bottom of the sea was very sandy at this point, so instead of his legs being crushed they were just pressed into the soft base.
With considerable effort and much shouting and altercation they managed to get the ice-box onto the jetty again. And then, using the round cypress poles from the broken part of the jetty as rollers, they rolled it down and, with much heaving and panting, got it on board the benzina.
“There,” said Larry, “quite simple. I told you it would be. Well now, you hang on here, Gerry, and we’ll go back to the villa and fetch the rest of the things.”
Laughing and triumphant, the peasant boys went up the hillside with Larry and Leslie to fetch the rest of our equipment. I was watching them go and so wasn’t taking much notice of the benzina. Suddenly I heard a rattle. I turned round and found that the men had pulled the boat well out from the jetty and was just hauling his anchor on board.
“Hoy!” I cried. “What are you doing?”
“Pulling in my anchor,” he said. He seemed to be a fairly literal sort of bloke.
“But where are you going?” I asked.
“Gouvia,” he said, and started the engine.
“But you can’t go to Gouvia,” I shouted. “You can’t. You’re supposed to take us to the mainland. And you’ve got our icebox!”
But the noise of the engine was too loud and, in any case, even if he heard me he ignored me. He turned the bow of the benzina seawards and chug-chug-chugged off along the coast. I watched him with dismay. What on earth could we do now?
I ran back along the jetty, jumped over the broken part, and scampered up on to the road. I felt I must get up to the villa as soon as possible and tell Larry what had happened. Just at that moment they appeared at the top of the hill, carrying picnic baskets and various other things. And almost at the same moment Spiro’s car drove up along the road with Mother and Margo in the back.
Larry and Leslie and their peasant helpers arrived at the road simultaneously with the car.
“What are you doing, dear?” said Mother, getting out of the car.
“We’re just bringing the things down to put them in the benzina,” said Larry. And then he glanced at the jetty.
“Where the hell is it?” he asked.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” I said. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone?” said Leslie. “How could he have gone?”
“Well, he has,” I said. “Look, there he is.”
They peered and saw the benzina disappearing down the coast.
“But where’s he gone to?” asked Larry.
“He said he was going to Gouvia.”
“Well, what’s he going to Gouvia for?” He’s supposed to take us to the mainland.”
“That’s what I told him but he wouldn’t take any notice of me.”
“But he’s got the ice-box,” said Leslie.
“He’s got the what?” asked Mother.
“The ice-box,” said Larry irritably. “We put the bloody ice-box on board and he’s got that.”
“I told you not to touch that icebox,” said Mother. “I told you not to move it. Really, Larry, you do make me angry.”
“Oh, Mother, do stop fussing,” said Larry. “The thing is to get the damn’ thing back again now. What do you think this fool is up to, Spiro? You employed him.”
“That’s not Taki’s benzinas,” said Spiro scowling thoughtfully.
“No, it wasn’t Taki,” I said. “It was his cousin.”
“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Mother, distraught.
“We’ll have to go after him,” said Larry.
“I’ll takes your mothers up to the house,” said Spiro, “and then I’ll goes to Gouvia.”
“But you can’t bring the ice-box back in a car,” said Larry. Just at that moment the sound of another benzina engine made itself heard and, looking round, we saw a second boat approaching from the town.
“Ah,” said Spiro, “that’s Taki’s benzinas.”
“Well, let him give chase,” said Larry. “Let him give chase. As soon as he gets here, tell him to give chase and get that bloody ice-box back. I don’t know what that fool was playing at, taking it away like that.”
“Didn’t he show any surprise,” asked Leslie of me, “when you asked him to put the ice-box on board?”
“No,” I said, “he just looked blank.”
“As well he might,” said Mother. “I would look blank, too, in similar circumstances.”
When Taki’s boat eventually made the jetty we explained the predicament to him. He was a nice, wiry little man and grinned amicably, showing large quantities of gold teeth.
“Here, these boys had better go with him,” said Larry. “Otherwise we’ll never get the ice-box from one benzina to the other.”
The six peasant boys, delighted at the idea of a sea trip, clambered on board chattering and laughing excitedly.
“Leslie, you’d better go with them,” said Larry. “Airight,” said Leslie, “I suppose I’d better.” He got on board the boat and it chugged off in pursuit of the first one.
“I simply can’t understand it,” said Mother. “What did the man think he was doing?”
“Oh, Mother,” said Margo, “you know what it’s like in Corfu. Everybody’s mad.”
“Yes, but not that mad,” said Mother. “You don’t bring a benzina in and pick up a complete stranger’s ice-box and go off with it, just like that.”
“Maybes he’s comes from Zante,” said Spiro, as if this explained everything.
“Well, I don’t know. Really!” said Mother. “What a start to the whole thing! You children do make me angry.”
“Now, I think that’s unfair, Mother,” said Margo. “After all, Larry and Leslie weren’t to know they’d put it on the wrong benzina.”
“They should have asked,” said Mother. “We might never get it back.”
“Don’ts yous worrys, Mrs Durrells,” said Spiro, scowling, “I’ll gets its backs. Yous comes ups to the house.”
So we all went up to the house and waited there. After about three and a half hours Mother’s nerves were in shreds.
“I’m sure they’ve dropped it into the sea,” she said. “Really, I shall never forgive you, Larry. And I explicitly told you not to move the ice-box.”
At that moment we heard dimly, far away, the put-put-put of a benzina. I ran out with the field glasses and peered out across the sea. Sure enough, there was Taki’s benzina coming towards the jetty, with the ice-box carefully installed on it. I ran back with the news to Mother.
“Well,” she said, “that’s something, I suppose. Now perhaps we can get off Really, I feel as though I’ve aged another year even though I haven’t had my birthday.”
So we carried all our things once more down to the jetty and packed them on board the benzina. Then we piled into the car and drove into town.
In town we found our friends gathered together having a drink under the cool shade of the columns on the Esplanade. There was Sven, who looked like a great, moon-faced baby with his almost bald head and his tattered wispy fringe of grey hair, clasping his precious accordion — an instrument without which he never travelled. There was Theodore, immaculately clad in a suit, with a Panama hat, his beard and moustache twinkling golden in the sun. Beside his chair he had his cane with a little net on the end of it and his box containing his precious test tubes and bottles for collecting. There was Donald, who looked pale and aristocratic; Max, tall and gangling, with curly hair and a brown moustache perched like a butterfly on his upper lip; Leonora, blonde, nubile and very beautiful; and Mactavish, a stocky man with a brown, lined face and thinning grey hair.