GUNDABILU 137 



at the ready . . . the grouper turned with a slight dart, moved 

 a length and returned to the open sea still at half depth. But 

 none of us went up. The game was still on and the apnoea 

 (free-air immersion) continued. . . . Gigi and I were still 

 playing statues. Raimondo slowly twisted in pursuit of the 

 grouper ... it moved imperceptibly away with Raimondo 

 still eight feet off . . . but why didn't he fire? Gigi and I 

 wanted to scream *Shoot, man!' But Raimondo hesitated. 

 The grouper looked bored, increased its speed slightly, and 

 solemnly made off. It was good-bye. We did not see it again. 



Raimondo had not considered that he was at the right 

 killing distance. 'To drill that beast right through,' he said 

 later by way of explaining his hesitation, 'I needed to be 

 nearer. I hoped it would stay still for another second.' 



An hour passed with everyone going about his own busi- 

 ness. Gigi had gone back to the boat after retrieving his 

 little grouper, and Raimondo was on the beach resting with 

 the others. The boat, full of succulent, harlequinesque 

 lobsters that Gigi, Raimondo and Alberto had caught with 

 their hands that morning, all in a tribe under a rock, was 

 floating in a perfect calm a hundred yards away, with Gigi, 

 Cecco and Priscilla aboard snoozing. I alone was in the 

 water, swimming vertically on the open side of the reef. 

 Shoals of fish were travelling around below. It was past one 

 o'clock and the heat was choking. 



And there was the grouper again ! I almost swallowed a 

 mouthful with the shock. 



It was at the base of its pinnacle. Then it travelled quickly 

 off to a low block of madrepore, little bigger than itself and 

 lying apart from the reef. It made a sharp turn and went in. 

 I came out on top and waved madly to my companions, at 

 the same time looking around for Raimondo's boat. I spied 

 it lying at the bottom of the long beach hauled on to the 



