THE MANTA, THE GOOD DEVIL 127 



Now it was dark. We looked at each other in silence as we 

 chugged back to the house, engine humming. The sea was 

 phosphorescent, our eyes were bright and the stars were 

 twinkling in the not yet black sky. Were you really convinced, 

 Gigi, I whispered to the waves of Nocra's Channel, that your 

 ray did not commit suicide in the tragic solitude of the sea 

 floor? 



The Formica had returned from its visit to Massawa, with 

 Cecco and Priscilla. The morning after we left for Medecheri 

 to conquer the manta, armed with a hand harpoon, spear- 

 guns, the 22, the repaired Browning as well as a i6 mm. 

 cine camera with colour films. The sight of the day before 

 was not repeated. The cefaloni and the mantas came back 

 to splash around the waters of the bay at the same time as 

 the day before, but in greatly reduced numbers. Even so, it 

 was enough to fire the enthusiasm of Cecco and draw a 

 hundred 'my goodnesses' from Priscilla. We threw a bomb 

 into the middle of a thick shoal of cefaloni but not one of 

 those accursed beasts was killed. Perhaps the bombs exploded 

 too far down. When the foam came up we rushed to the spot 

 shouting 'Victory!' but were greeted by ten minute fish 

 only. What metal are cefaloni made of? 



The mantas came later. About ten came flapping darkly 

 under the keel. Each of us had three shots with the hand 

 harpoon. Gigi missed three, I missed three, Cecco missed 

 two and at the third shot caught one in the wing. It was one 

 of the smallest of them. The battle lasted half an hour and 

 ended with a bullet fired at point blank range. I managed to 

 shoot some of the more exciting moments with my camera. 

 Finally, we dragged our 'sea devil' aboard. He weighed 



