Death of an Elgin Marble by David Dickinson

useful one day?’
    The two men were marched onto the boat across a plank that Powerscourt thought looked rather precarious. They were shoved onto a couple of chairs opposite the Captain and a young man in a suit who gave his name as Euripidis. Powerscourt wanted to ask him if he wrote plays in his spare time but thought better of it.
    The Captain spat out a torrent of Greek abuse. Off to their left a series of bubbles was breaking through the surface of the water where the Caryatid had fallen, as if she were sending a last message to the faithful.
    ‘What are you doing here, the Captain wants to know?’ Euripidis spoke English with a strong American accent.
    ‘What are you doing here, we might ask?’ said Powerscourt indignantly, going onto the offensive. ‘We are simple tourists, just come from London, staying at the Hotel Mazzini. We came to take a look at the harbour, that’s all.’
    Euripidis translated. The lion was watching them carefully from its cage on deck, rubbing its face with a great paw from time to time.
    ‘The Captain wants to know why you have come to see the Caryatid, why you are here this morning.’
    ‘Caryatid?’ said Powerscourt. ‘Caryatid? What’s a Caryatid for heaven’s sake? I think we have one of them in some museum in London and there’s half a dozen on permanent duty at St Pancras Church in Camden, but I’ve never set eyes on any of them. Was that thing that fell into the water one of these Carry things? I must tell my children when I get home. They’re very fond of Greek statues and stuff like that.’
    As he spoke, Powerscourt could see the translator scribbling furiously and handing a message to the Captain. Then there was a further volley in staccato Greek.
    ‘Well, the Captain says to forget all about that. He thought you were somebody else, that’s all.’
    ‘Well,’ said Powerscourt, ‘I’m sorry you seem to have lost your container. Very bad luck. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Johnny and I have to be getting back to our hotel. We’re still tired out from our journey.’
    They waited once more. ‘The Captain wishes to know when you are going back to London, please. He would like to offer you a little cruise in his boat if you have time before you go.’
    ‘We’d be delighted, please thank him very much. Tomorrow perhaps? The day after?’
    ‘The day after would suit admirably. Eleven o’clock? Down here by the café?’
    They all shook hands. The lion looked on, growling slightly as it watched the visitors leave.
    ‘By God, Francis,’ said Johnny Fitzgerald, ‘that was a close shave. Do you really think he thought we were different people altogether? And why did you say yes to the cruise?’
    ‘Don’t walk so fast, Johnny. We don’t want them to think we’re running away. I would love to know what the translator said to make the Captain change his mind. Did the Captain know we were coming? If he did, how the hell did he find out? And I’ve no intention of showing up for the cruise. I think we’d end up as food for the fishes. Or maybe the lion if the Captain was in a bad mood.’
    ‘Where is Stavros, Kostas’s brother?’ said Johnny Fitzgerald. ‘He had a ticket to bloody Brindisi, didn’t he?’
    ‘God knows. Davy Jones’s locker perhaps? Maybe he offended the bloody lion.’
    ‘There is one good thing, Francis. We’ve found the Caryatid, or, as you said before, maybe a Caryatid, one of a family of sisters perhaps, numbers unknown.’
    They were passing the last known resting place of the marble lady who might have come from the Acropolis. The deep muddy pool that marked her fall had disappeared. The surface of the water was covered with its usual oily sheen and fragments of floating refuse. Down below in a watery grave, the fragments of the Caryatid waited for redemption and resurrection.
    ‘It’s good we’ve seen her, Johnny, even if it was only for a moment. There’s one other thing. My spoken Greek may be down there with the minnows, but