Chapter 3

Or; appointment with the fourth dimension. But will it be true then? Disquisition on the American method of working together and on our method, the Italian one. The sea is rough. The Prof retires to eat and to drink something. Is snoring contagious? Ugh.

February 12th
I wake up at seven. Fogar is sleeping in the same boat, and at seven thirty, he makes radio contact with Italy. Brring, brring, brring, the phone is continually in use, he wants the world to know about us. We have breakfast and then start to sort out the suitcases again because they have to be transferred to the other boat before we leave. We also learn that our orders have changed; rather than depart immediately, we will depart at 11 o'clock. So we have plenty of time. We decide to pay a visit to the nearby shops in Miamarina, and we cast a few furtive glances at the beautiful girls with their two metre long legs, lazily tanning themselves on the decks of the moored yachts. We meet a colleague of ours and we chat to pass the time. Eleven comes and goes and we haven't left yet. Finally at one, a whistle signals the call for embarkation. We climb aboard. Good-bye Miami. Slowly, slowly we leave our moorings and navigate through the innumerable channels, then finally into the open sea, ocean, destination Bimini, one of the Islands in the Bahamas. We are making for the Triangle.
Someone wrote that life was born in Bimini. We will see. It now awaits us; we have an appointment with the fourth dimension! It is a story which, they say, has aroused the passion of many people. I am not really interested in the story about the Triangle; it is just a matter of principle.

This mystery is in the Americans own backyard, but they don’t seem to take much interest in it. Also, they have this terrible habit of insisting on working together, while instead, we Italians prefer to work by ourselves. We believe that if one of us misses something, the other will probably see it. Thank God, we still believe in the Italian genius, as if we were still at the heart of the Renaissance, and, if we did nothing else, we struck a blow for all Italians. Our style of working proved to be the right one on every single occasion. Now listen please Gentlemen, do not phone Italy, at least for a few days. Let’s pretend we are from another nation, we do not want people to know who we are or what we are doing. We need to erase what has happened because if you make just one call, it is possible that others will hound us and it could lead to all sorts of problems, even killings, robberies and extortion.
Off we go; the sea is rough. The captain says "strength two, and when we get to the channel that divides the continent from the Bahamas we will start to dance". Lets get ready Prof. We secure, as well as we can, the brand new instrument from the Bocami, (something that measures the magnetic field of the earth), to the of stern of the ship, then we throw the sensor into the water. It has sixty metres of cable which trails behind us. We switch on the instrument and begin to take readings. The pen traces through a ribbon and prints a continuous flat red line, for now. For miles and miles everything is normal. There are no aberrations. The hours pass and we take it in turns to keep watch over the instrument. Then the sea gets stronger, the captain says "strength four" and the ship starts to dance. I suffer from sea sickness, but I have taken a tablet before departing. The Prof doesn't suffer; he is quietly sitting above the hand rails of the boat, watching the instrument. We will measure the whole channel from Miami to Bimini, he says. Very well Prof, we'll take it in turns to keep an eye on it. I occasionally go and sit inside the cabin where all the others are gathered, but they seem to be continually rushing off to the bathroom.

I feel pale and I am in a cold sweat, but I try to ignore it and return outside to take a mouthful of air. It is a really bad sea, and we have at least another ten hours of this, says the Captain. Astern, and about half a mile away is our flagship, 'Adventure 2'. It really is a beautiful ship. We are now in continual radio contact, especially as it is beginning to get dark. We take regular readings from the instrument which is measuring a continuous shift in the magnetic field, the pen draws a very ample curve that goes over the right of the ribbon; but it is simply because the sun is going down over the horizon, says the Prof, nothing abnormal or significant about it.
It is now pitch black. The Captain turns on a portable light above the instrument, so we can keep on reading the measurements. The Prof retires to the cabin to get something to eat and drink. Inside the boat people are being continuously tossed against each other. All the time they try to catch whatever is being knocked onto the floor. The Captain sets course on the autopilot and then starts to quietly doze, sprawled across his armchair, his legs together and above the level of his head, in the American way. The voyage continues like this. I spend time inside and outside, continually being knocked from pillar to post; but the coolness of the evening is good for me and I prefer to remain in the open air. The Prof is unmoved, like a Budda, he's tough. We lose all sense of time, it simply passes with each shift; but then a dazed and bewildered Camilli appears. Now the three of us take it in turns to monitor the instrument, which is good because it is beginning to get much cooler. I am able to doze too. Somehow time passes. I take over from the Prof. The red line continues to go straight.
No anomalies Prof? No, everything is in order. Finally the Captain says that we are near the island of Bimini. How we survived the past nine hours God only knows. Gradually the boat starts to slow down. The Captain is in contact with "Adventure 2". Now, the green lighthouse of the small harbour of Bimini can be seen. The Captain tells those in the other boat to drop anchor when they are level with the lighthouse because it is low tide and the boat draws about three metres.
Our boat has almost stopped now, the Captain takes a depth sounding and, guided by the lighthouse, and with the aid of a spot light which pierces the surrounding darkness, he moves slowly, slowly forward looking for the shore line. I am sure it is near; he veers to the left and follows the lighthouses profile with his light. The boat moves cautiously towards the entrance of the harbour, the shallow waters present some difficulty, there is only a narrow passage to navigate through, but our man knows these waters like the back of his hand. We berth at the wharf. It is midnight on the 12th February.
Naturally we cannot set foot on land until tomorrow morning. As all over the world, and here too, the omnipresent customs are vigilant. So for tonight we will end up sleeping on the boat. Again! We sleep in the stern cabin, that is me, the Maiorca family and Gianni Mangiali. The Prof sleeps in the bow, contently, together with Sironi, Camilli and Mossadich. In the pilothouse there are four couches to accommodate the four people who were destroyed by sea sickness. I fall asleep in a shot, but then I keep waking up, I cannot settle. Sleeping with the hatch open and berthed at the jetty of an island that I have never seen before and that I know nothing about worries me. What kind of people are they? Are they natives? What if they quietly climb aboard, what if some snakes slither into the cabins? In other words, I don't sleep peacefully.
The others sleep; I hear everyone’s light breathing. I sleep too. But suddenly I feel something hit me in the face...a nozzle!! I am startled of course, until I understand why it hit me, so I say nothing. The following morning I realise that Gianni had thrown a piece of equipment at me because I had snored! Good God, I've caught it from the Prof, he has infected me!