Jaws Part 26

"I doubt it."

"Well, forget it."

"Look, Quint, this is a chance of a lifetime. Not just for me. I wouldn't have thought of doing it until I saw the fish yesterday. It's unique, at least in this hemisphere.

And even though people have filmed great whites before, no one's ever filmed a twentyfoot white swimming in the open ocean. Never."

"He said forget it," said Brody. "So forget it. Besides, I don't want the responsibility. We're out here to kill that fish, not make a home movie about it."

"What responsibility? You're not responsible for me."

"Oh yes I am. The town of Amity is paying for this trip, so what I say goes." Hooper said to Quint, "I'll pay you."

Quint smiled. "Oh yeah? How much?"

"Forget it," said Brody. "I don't care what Quint says. I say you're not bringing that thing along."

Hooper ignored him and said to Quint, "A hundred dollars. Cash. In advance, the way you like it." He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

"I said no!" said Brody.

"What do you say, Quint? A hundred bucks. Cash. Here it is." He counted five twenties and held them out to Quint.

"I don't know." Then Quint reached for the money and said, "s.h.i.+t, I don't suppose it's my business to keep a man from killing himself if he wants to."

"You put that cage on the boat," Brody said to Quint, "and you don't get your four hundred." If Hooper wants to kill himself, Brody thought, let him do it on his own time.

"And if the cage doesn't go," said Hooper, "I don't go."

"f.u.c.k yourself," said Brody. "You can stay here, for all I care."

"I don't think Quint would like that. Right, Quint? You want to go out and take on that fish with just you and the chief? You feel good about that?"

"We'll find another man," said Brody.

"Go ahead," Hooper snapped. "Good luck." (111)

"Can't do it," said Quint. "Not on this short notice."

"Then the h.e.l.l with it!" said Brody. "We'll go tomorrow. Hooper can go back to Woods Hole and play with his fish." Hooper was angry --angrier, in fact, than he knew, for before he could stop himself, he had said, "That's not all I might... Oh, forget it." For several seconds, a leaden silence fell over the three men. Brody stared at Hooper, unwilling to believe what he had heard, uncertain how much substance there was in the remark and how much empty threat. Then suddenly he was overcome by rage. He reached Hooper in two steps, grabbed both sides of his collar, and rammed his fists into Hooper's throat. "What was that?" he said. "What did you say?" Hooper could hardly breathe. He clawed at Brody's fingers. "Nothing!" he said, choking. "Nothing!" He tried to back away, but Brody gripped him tighter.

"What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing, I tell you! I was angry. It was something to say."

"Where were you last Wednesday afternoon?"

"Nowhere!" Hooper's temples were throbbing. "Let me go! You're choking me!"

"Where were you?" Brody twisted his fists tighter.

"In a motel! Now let me go!"

Brody eased his grip. "With who?" he said, praying to himself, G.o.d, don't let it be Ellen; let his alibi be a good one.

"Daisy Wicker."

"Liar!" Brody tightened his grip again, and he felt tears begin to squeeze from his eyes.

"What do you mean?" said Hooper, struggling to free himself.

"Daisy Wicker's a G.o.ddam lesbian! What were you doing, knitting?" Hooper's thoughts were fogging. Brody's knuckles were cutting off the flow of blood to his brain. His eyelids flickered and he began to lose consciousness. Brody released him and pushed him down to the dock, where he sat, sucking air.

"What do you say to that?" said Brody. "Are you such a hotshot you can f.u.c.k a lesbian?"

Hooper's mind cleared quickly, and he said, "No. I didn't find it out until... until it was too late."

"What do you mean? You mean she went with you to a motel and then turned you down? No d.y.k.e is gonna go to any motel room with you."

"She did!" said Hooper, desperately trying to keep pace with Brody's questions.

"She said she wanted ... that it was time she tried it straight. But then she couldn't go through with it. It was awful."

"You're bulls.h.i.+tting me!"

"I'm not! You can check with her yourself." Hooper knew it was a weak excuse. Brody could check it out with no trouble. But it was all he could think of. He could stop on the way home that evening and call Daisy Wicker from a phone booth, beg her to corroborate his story. Or he could simply never return to Amity --turn north and take the ferry from Orient Point and be out of the state before Brody could reach Daisy Wicker.

"I will check," said Brody. "You can count on it." Behind him, Brody heard Quint laugh and say, "That's the funniest thing I ever did hear. Tried to lay a lesbian."

Brody tried to read Hooper's face, searching for any-thing that might betray a lie.

But Hooper kept his eyes fixed on the dock.

"Well, what do you say?" said Quint. "We going today or not? Either way, Brody, it'll cost you."

Brody felt shaken. He was tempted to cancel the trip, to return to Amity and discover the truth about Hooper and Ellen. But suppose the worst was true. What could he do then? Confront Ellen? Beat her? Walk out on her? What good would that do? He had to have time to think. He said to Quint, "We'll go."

"With the cage?"

"With the cage. If this a.s.shole wants to kill himself, let him." (112)

"Okay by me," said Quint. "Let's get this circus on the road." Hooper stood and walked to the cage. "I'll get in the boat," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

"If you two can push it over to the edge of the dock and lean it toward me, then one of you come down into the boat with me, we can carry it over into the corner." Brody and Quint slid the cage across the wooden boards, and Brody was surprised at how light it was. Even with the diving gear inside, it couldn't have weighed more than two hundred pounds. They tipped it toward Hooper, who grabbed two of the bars and waited until Quint joined him in the c.o.c.kpit. The two men easily carried the cage a few feet and pushed it into a corner under the overhang that supported the flying bridge. Hooper secured it with two pieces of rope.

Brody jumped aboard and said, "Let's go."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" said Quint.

"What?"

"Four hundred dollars."

Brody took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Quint. "You're going to die a rich man, Quint."

"That's my aim. Uncleat the stern line, will you?" Quint uncleated the bow and mids.h.i.+ps spring lines and tossed them onto the dock, and when he saw that the stern line was clear, too, he pushed the throttle forward and guided the boat out of the slip. He turned right and pushed the throttle forward, and the boat moved swiftly through the calm sea --past Hicks Island and Goff Point, around s.h.a.gwong and Montauk points. Soon the lighthouse on Montauk Point was behind them, and they were cruising south by southwest in the open ocean.

Gradually, as the boat fell into the rhythm of the long ocean swells, Brody's fury dulled. Maybe Hooper was telling the truth. It was possible. A person wouldn't make up a story that was so easy to check. Ellen had never cheated on him before, he was sure of that. She never even flirted with other men. But, he told himself, there's always a first time. And once again the thought made his throat tighten. He felt jealous and injured, inadequate and outraged. He hopped down from the fighting chair and climbed up to the flying bridge.

Quint made room on the bench for Brody, and Brody sat down next to him. Quint chuckled. "You boys almost had a no-s.h.i.+t punch-up back there."

"It was nothing."

"Looked like something to me. What is it, you think he's been poking your wife?" Confronted with his own thoughts stated so brutally, Brody was shocked. "None of your d.a.m.n business," he said.

"Whatever you say. But if you ask me, he ain't got it in him."

"n.o.body asked you." Anxious to change the subject, Brody said, "Are we going back to the same place?"

"Same place. Won't be too long now."

"What are the chances the fish will still be there?"

"Who knows? But it's the only thing we can do."

"You said something on the phone the other day about being smarter than fish. Is that all there is to it? Is that the only secret of success?"

"That's all there is. You just got to outguess 'em. It's no trick. They're stupid as sin."

"You've never found a smart fish?"

"Never met one yet." Brody remembered the leering, grinning face that had stared up at him from the water. "I don't know," he said. "That fish sure looked mean yesterday. Like he meant to be mean. Like he knew what he was doing."

"s.h.i.+t, he don't know nothing."

"Do they have different personalities?"

"Fish?" Quint laughed. "That's giving them more credit than they're due. You can't treat 'em like people, even though I guess some people are as dumb as fish. No. They do different things sometimes, but after a while you get to know everything they can do."

"It's not a challenge, then. You're not fighting an enemy."

"No. No more 'n a plumber who's trying to unstick a drain. Maybe he'll cuss at it (113) and hit it with a wrench. But down deep he don't think he's fighting somebody. Sometimes I run into an ornery fish that gives me more trouble than other ones, but I just use different tools."

"There are fish you can't catch, aren't there?"

"Oh sure, but that don't mean they're smart or sneaky or anything. It only means they're not hungry when you try to catch 'em, or they're too fast for you, or you're using the wrong bait."

Quint fell silent for a moment, then spoke again. "Once," he said, "a shark almost caught me. It was about twenty years ago. I had a fair-size blue shark to gaff and he gave a big yank and hauled me overboard with him."

"What did you do?"

"I come up over that transom so fast I don't think my feet touched anything between water and deck. I was lucky I fell over the stern, where it's fairly low down, near the water. If I'd of fallen over amids.h.i.+ps, I don't know what I would've done. Anyway, I was out of that water before the fish even knew I was in it. He was busy trying to shake the gaff."

"Suppose you fell over with this fish. Is there anything you could do?"

"Sure. Pray. It'd be like falling out of an airplane without a parachute and hoping you'll land in a haystack. The only thing that'd save you would be G.o.d, and since He pushed you overboard in the first place, I wouldn't give a nickel for your chances."

"There's a woman in Amity who thinks that's why we're having trouble," said Brody. "She thinks it's some sort of divine retribution." Quint smiled. "Might be. He made the d.a.m.n thing, I suppose He can tell it what to do."

"You serious?"

"No, not really. I don't put much stock in religion."

"So why do you think people have been killed."

"Bad luck." Quint pulled back on the throttle. The boat slowed and settled in the swells. "We'll try to change it." He took a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, read the notes, and sighting along his outstretched arm, checked his bearings. He turned the ignition key, and the engine died. There was a weight, a thickness, to the sudden silence. "Okay, Hooper," he said. "Start chuckin' the s.h.i.+t overboard." Hooper took the top off the chum bucket and began to ladle the contents into the sea. The first ladleful spattered on the still water, and slowly the oily smear spread westward.

By ten o'clock a breeze had come up --not strong, but fresh enough to ripple the water and cool the men, who sat and watched and said nothing. The only sound was the regular splash as Hooper poured chum off the stern.

Brody sat in the fighting chair, struggling to stay awake. He yawned, then recalled that he had left the half-read copy of The Deadly Virgin in a magazine rack below. He stood, stretched, and went down the three steps into the cabin. He found the book and started topside again, when his eye caught the ice chest. He looked at his watch and said to himself, the h.e.l.l with it; there's no time out here.

"I'm going to have a beer," he called. "Anybody want one?"

"No," said Hooper.

"Sure," said Quint. "We can shoot at the cans." Brody took two beers from the chest, removed the metal tabs, and started to climb the stairs. His foot was on the top step when he heard Quint's flat, calm voice say, "There he is."

At first, Brody thought Quint was referring to him, but then he saw Hooper jump off the transom and heard him whistle and say, "Wow! He sure is!" Brody felt his pulse speed up. He stepped quickly onto the deck and said, "Where?"

(114)

"Right there," said Quint. "Dead off the stern." It took Brody's eyes a moment to adjust, but then he saw the fin --a ragged, brownish-gray triangle that sliced through the water, followed by the scythed tail sweeping left and right with short, spasmodic thrusts. The fish was at least thirty yards behind the boat, Brody guessed. Maybe forty. "Are you sure it's him?" he said.

"It's him," said Quint.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing. Not till we see what he does. Hooper, you keep ladling that s.h.i.+t. Let's bring him in here."

Hooper lifted the bucket up onto the transom and scooped the chum into the water. Quint walked forward and fastened a harpoon head to the wooden shaft. He picked up a barrel and put it under one arm. He held the coiled rope over his other arm and clutched the harpoon in his hand. He carried it all aft and set it on the deck. The fish cruised back and forth in the slick, seeming to search for the source of the b.l.o.o.d.y miasma.

"Reel in those lines," Quint said to Brody. "They won't do any good now we've got him up."