CHIRPING GIANTS I57 



Like five maniacs they paddled towards the first platoon. 



Eight monsters here. Eight monsters there. How long were 

 they? Twenty feet. The monsters advanced. What were 

 they? Certainly not sharks. Whales then? Probably, but let 

 them come nearer. As the first line of black humps ap- 

 proached the four men spread out. Then they dived and 

 Priscilla took a dramatic photograph of the meeting (re- 

 produced). Then the sea hid them. Before them now they 

 saw only a clear, silent, bottomless blue. They were surround- 

 ed by blue on every side and without being aware of each 

 other they waited second after second in the abyss. Then . . . 

 they heard that chirping draw near (what was it?) and the 

 underwater horizon became dark and disturbed. The eight 

 giant heads rolled on towards them, drew them into their 

 midst, made them spin in the whirlpools of their tails, then 

 passed on over their backs. The four swimmers bobbed up 

 to the surface and said something that was carried away by 

 the wind. The cetaceans were coming again. Herd number 

 two bowled across the waves. The four went under, came up 

 and went under again. Once more they were in the midst 

 of the giants and could even touch them. Ravelli navigated 

 twenty feet underwater between two of them to take photo- 

 graphs; he looked like a twig between two trunks. And the 

 squeaking ! The whole sea seemed to be chirping and squeak- 

 ing. It was the cetaceans calling to each other. Were they 

 commenting on the strangest encounter of their existence? 



After a quarter of an hour the merry-go-round was over. 

 Fed-up or disappointed with these ridiculous fish, the lords 

 of the sea turned their tails and cleared off. Bruno, Giorgio 

 and Cecco hurried back to the boat. 'Pilot- whales', said 

 Cecco. But where was Folco? Odd. He had remained out 

 there looking under. Then slowly, looking round at the same 

 time, he reached the boat and dragged his legs in hurriedly. 



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