THE MANTA, THE GOOD DEVIL 121 



to be heading madly at us. Gigi stood up and got ready to 

 shoot. The manta struck the boat with a tremendous blow. 

 Gigi rolled from bows to stern. Fortunately the gun did not 

 go off. The boat rocked madly. When the storm had passed, 

 we made a check-up. Everything was all right. We changed 

 positions. Gigi felt his back, but said nothing. His face looked 

 like thunder. 



At 1 1. 10 we spotted the manta again. Gigi moved the 

 tiller. We were on top of it. It was a great beast measuring 

 nine feet across. We got a perfect view of it out of the water. 

 Had the bell tolled ? The manta gave a crack of its wings 

 and inflated on the surface. I fired the steel arrow plumb in 

 the middle of its back and about six inches deep. Gigi 

 shrieked in triumph, threw over the float (the rubber inner 

 tube) while the manta set off like a torpedo-boat in the 

 direction of Ghubbet Mus Nefit. The cord linking the arrow 

 to the float untwisted like lightning for the length of its 

 twenty-five yards. The float splashed off, rearing like a motor 

 boat behind the dashing monster. With throttle wide open 

 we followed relentlessly. 



At 11.30 we were still following. We came into Ghubbet 

 Mus Nefit flat out, into a wild circus of cefaloni and mantas 

 of all sizes. Our victim had brought us into a two-party 

 gathering. The sea around us was a frantic whirlpool of fins 

 and splashing waters, of emerging and submerging tails and 

 thundering black backs. The cefaloni covered at least half a 

 square mile of tumultuous sea while the mantas swam in the 

 middle of this, riding and circling round us. One of them 

 exploded a yard out of the water and landed flat again, 

 throwing up waves and water-spouts. Doggedly we continued 

 the chase. The sun was wicked now. We were sweating like 

 pigs and the motor was red-hot. Our little life-belt of a float 

 looked lost in the great bay and was slipping further away 



