CUNDABILU 141 



anchored. After ten minutes, trying we were obliged to 

 decide either to cut the line or to go under and have a look. 

 Naturally, we voted unanimously for the second alternative 

 and Cecco volunteered. 



Fins and mask on and Cecco was in the water. For peace 

 of mind we held a loaded gun ready for him in the boat. 

 Cecco swam to the point of the stoppage, had a careful look 

 round, then went under and returned almost immediately in 

 great excitement. 



'Give me the big knife,' he said. 



'What is it?' 



'A smoking shark.' 



'Smoking?' But Cecco had gone again. 



'He's had a touch of the sun,' Gigi muttered, lighting a 

 cigarette. 



Cecco was down a minute or more, but it seemed an hour 

 to us who were waiting, anxiously scanning the water. I was 

 already in mask and fins when Cecco erupted on the surface. 



'Pull,' he yelled. Gigi bounced up and started pulling the 

 line, with me helping. Obviously there was an animal 

 attached, fighting to escape. We pulled with all our strength 

 and up it came. Its outline appeared under the keel. We held 

 on and pulled inch by inch until we tore it out of the water. 

 It was a shark. Gigi held it by the mouth with the twisted 

 line and I managed to grip it by the tail. We pressed it 

 against the side of the boat and then with one Isist flip it was 

 aboard and we sprang to the bows and the stern. It was a 

 black-fin, five and a half feet long, and appeared to want to 

 bite our poor boat to pieces. Then gradually it relaxed, 

 gasped, writhed in its last spasms, and died with a long 

 purple shiver. 



Cecco got on board smiling. 



'This is a good one,' he said, 'It was smoking blue.' 



K 



