Europe in the Looking Glass by Morris Jan Byron Robert

Author:Morris, Jan, Byron, Robert [Robert Byron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780940717
Publisher: Hesperus Press Ltd.
Published: 2013-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVI

THE COUNTRY OF SOCRATES has no convention with the Royal Automobile Club. Under ordinary circumstances, therefore, it is impossible to land a car upon upon her shores without depositing a sum of money equivalent to its full value. David, foreseeing this inconvenience, had, early in July, ventured into the presence of M. Caclamanos, the Minister in London, to ask his assistance in this matter. Did we, the Minister enquired, wish to disembark at Patras or Piraeus? David, thinking the former name less commonplace, replied Patras; to the customs officials of which port M. Caclamanos was kind enough to give him a letter. It then transpired that Patras was situated on the south-west corner of the Gulf of Corinth; and that only ships small enough to sail through the canal that severs the isthmus make it a port of call. On Thursday morning we awoke to find two steamers moored to the quay at Brindisi; one a large and inviting Lloyd Trestino, the other diminutive and dirty, with a repelling expression about it, like that of a small governess bent on a sartorial errand. This latter, the Iperoke, was to be our lot. While the Lloyd Trestino, with six hours’ start, sailed sedately round the Peloponnese to Athens, leaving us to battle with three days’ danger and privation on land and sea, in the effort to follow in her wake.

In the afternoon we paid a visit to the local Greek consul. To avoid repeated self-advertisement I may admit at the outset that all Greeks feel a personal pride in meeting a person bearing my name. David, who had gone originally by himself, was having difficulty over some minor point relating to the car. He sent hurriedly for me. Rousing myself from an afternoon dose beneath the mosquito nets, I arrived in the consulate untidy and half-asleep.

‘Permettez-moi vous presenter M. Byron,’ said David.

The outburst of enthusiasm that ensued, the honour conferred on the consul, the blushes that sprang to cheeks as yet unhardened to such eulogies, are all too painful to recall. Every difficulty melted. Anecdotes of infinite length followed, relating to his adventures in a Ford car during a term of governorship in a northern province under Venizelos. Our parting was painful. Each step necessitated a lower bow and a wider smile, until at length the door was reached, and we stepped backwards out of his presence into the dazzling sunlight of the street.

It was now half-past three, at which hour Diana was timed to embark. With David at the wheel we drove sedately up to the side of the Iperoke, the deck of which was about eight feet above the level of the quay. The moments that followed were harassing beyond description. It was a holiday, and the whole of Brindisi was free to assist the operations. An hour’s argument between us, the population, the Cook’s man and the crew of the Iperoke inspired everyone with a thirst for activity. There was no wooden platform to which the ropes

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