Jaws Part 27

Brody brought in the lines one by one and let the squid bait fall to the deck. The fish moved slightly closer to the boat, still cruising slowly. Quint set the barrel on the transom to the left of Hooper's bucket and arranged the rope beside it. Then he climbed up on the transom and stood, his right arm c.o.c.ked, holding the harpoon. "Come on," he said. "Come on in here." But the fish would come no closer than fifty feet from the boat.

"I don't get it," said Quint. "He should come in and take a look at us. Brody, take the cutters out of my back pocket and clip off those squid bait and throw 'em overboard. Maybe some food'll bring him in. And splash the h.e.l.l out of the water when you throw 'em. Let him know something's there."

Brody did as he was told, slapping and roiling the water with a gaff, always keeping the fin in sight, for he imagined the fish suddenly appearing from the deep and seizing him by the arm.

"Throw some other ones while you're at it," said Quint. "They're in the chest there. And throw those beers over, too."

"The beers? What for?"

"The more we can get in the water, the better. Don't make no difference what it is, so long as it gets him interested enough to want to find out." Hooper said, "What about the porpoise?"

"Why, Mr. Hooper," said Quint. "I thought you didn't approve."

"Never mind that," Hooper said excitedly. "I want to see that fis.h.!.+"

"We'll see," said Quint. "If I have to use it, I will." The squid had drifted back toward the shark, and one of the beers bobbed on the surface as it slowly faded aft of the boat. But still the fish stayed away. They waited --Hooper ladling, Quint poised on the transom, Brody standing by one of the rods.

"s.h.i.+t," said Quint. "I guess I got no choice." He set the harpoon down and jumped off the transom. He flipped the top off the garbage can next to Brody, and Brody saw the lifeless eyes of the tiny porpoise as it swayed in the briny water. The sight repelled him, and he turned away.

"Well, little fella," said Quint. "The time has come." From the lazaret he took a length of dog-leash chain and snapped one end of it into the hook eye protruding from beneath the porpoise's jaw. To the other end of the chain he tied a length of three-quarterinch hemp. He uncoiled several yards of the rope, cut it, and made it fast to a cleat on the starboard gunwale.

"I thought you said the shark could pull out a cleat," said Brody.

"It might just," said Quint. "But I'm betting I can get an iron in him and cut (115) the rope before he pulls it taut enough to yank the cleat." Quint took hold of the dog chain and lifted the starboard gunwale and set it down. He climbed onto the transom and pulled the porpoise after him. He took the knife from the sheath at his belt. With his left hand he held the porpoise out in front of him. Then, with his right, he cut a series of shallow slashes in the porpoise's belly. A rank, dark liquid oozed from the animal and fell in droplets on the water. Quint tossed the porpoise into the water, let out six feet of line, then put the rope under his foot on the transom and stepped down hard. The porpoise floated just beneath the surface of the water, less than six feet from the boat.

"That's pretty close," said Brody.

"Has to be," said Quint. "I can't get a shot at him if he's thirty feet away."

"Why are you standing on the rope?"

"To keep the little fella where he is. I don't want to cleat it down that close to the boat. If he took it and didn't have any running room, he could thrash around and beat us to pieces." Quint hefted the harpoon and looked at the shark's fin. The fish moved closer, still cruising back and forth but closing the gap between itself and the boat by a few feet with every pa.s.sage. Then it stopped, twenty or twentyfive feet away, and for a second seemed to lie motionless in the water, aimed directly at the boat. The tail dropped beneath the surface; the dorsal fin slid backward and vanished; and the great head reared up, mouth open in a slack, savage grin, eyes black and abysmal. Brody stared in mute horror, sensing that this was what it must be like to try to stare down the devil.

"Hey, fis.h.!.+" Quint called. He stood on the transom, legs spread, his hand curled around the shaft of the harpoon that rested on his shoulder. "Come see what we've got for you!"

For another moment the fish hung in the water, watching. Then, soundlessly, the head slid back and disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" said Brody.

"He'll be coming now," said Quint. "Come, fish," he purred. "Come, fish. Come get your supper." He pointed the harpoon at the floating porpoise. Suddenly the boat lurched violently to the side. Quint's legs skidded out from under him, and he fell on his back on the transom. The harpoon dart separated from the shaft and clattered to the deck. Brody tumbled sideways, grabbed the back of the chair, and twirled around as the chair swiveled. Hooper spun backward and slammed into the port gunwale.

The rope attached to the porpoise tautened and s.h.i.+vered. The knot by which it was secured to the cleat tightened so hard that the rope flattened and its fibers popped. The wood under the cleat began to crack. Then the rope snapped backward, went slack, and curled in the water beside the boat.

"I'll be f.u.c.ked!" said Quint.

"It was like he knew what you were trying to do," said Brody, "like he knew there was a trap set for him."

"G.o.ddammit! I never have seen a fish do that before."

"He knew if he knocked you down he could get to the porpoise."

"s.h.i.+t, he was just aiming for the porpoise, and he missed." Hooper said, "Aiming from the opposite side of the boat?"

"Well, it don't make no never-mind," said Quint.

"Whatever he did, it worked."

"How do you think he got off the hook?" said Brody. "He didn't pull the cleat out."

Quint walked over to the starboard gunwale and began to pull in the rope. "He either bit right through the chain, or else... uh-huh, that's what I figured." He leaned over the gunwale and grabbed the chain. He pulled it aboard. It was intact, the clip still attached to the eye of the hook. But the hook itself had been destroyed. The steel shaft no longer curled. It was nearly straight, marked by two small b.u.mps where once it had been (116) tempered into a curve.

"Jesus Christ!" said Brody. "He did that with his mouth?"

"Bent it out nice as you please," said Quint. "Probably didn't slow him down for more than a second or two."

Brody felt light-headed. His fingertips tingled. He sat down in the chair and drew several deep breaths, trying to stifle the fear that was mounting inside him.

"Where do you suppose he's gone?" said Hooper, standing at the stern and looking at the water.

"He's around here somewhere," said Quint. "I imagine he'll be back. That porpoise wasn't any more to him than an anchovy is to a bluefish. He'll be looking for more food." He rea.s.sembled the harpoon, recoiled the rope, and set them on the transom. "We're just gonna have to wait. And keep chumming. I'll tie up some more squid and hang 'em overboard."

Brody watched Quint as he wrapped twine around each squid and dropped it overboard, attached to the boat at cleats, rod-holders, and almost anything else around which he could tie a knot. When a dozen squid had been placed at various points and various depths around the boat, Quint climbed to the flying bridge and sat down. Hoping to be contradicted, Brody said, "That sure does seem to be a smart fish."

"Smart or not, I wouldn't know," said Quint. "But he's doing things I've never seen a fish do before." He paused, then said --as much to himself as to Brody --"but I'm gonna get that f.u.c.ker. That's one thing for sure."

"How can you be sure?"

"I know it, that's all. Now leave me be." It was a command, not a request, and though Brody wanted to talk --about anything, even the fish itself, as long as he could steer his mind away from the image of the beast lurking in the water below him --he said nothing more. He looked at his watch: 11:05.

They waited, expecting at any moment to see the fin rise off the stern and cut back and forth through the water. Hooper ladled chum, which sounded to Brody, every time it hit the water, like diarrhea.

At eleven-thirty, Brody was startled by a sharp, resonant snap. Quint leaped down the ladder, across the deck, and onto the transom. He picked up the harpoon and held it at his shoulder, scanning the water around the stern.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" said Brody.

"He's back."

"How do you know? What was that noise?"

"Twine snapping. He took one of the squid."

"Why would it snap? Why wouldn't he chew right through it?"

"He probably never bit down on it. He sucked it in, and the twine came tight behind his teeth when he closed his mouth. He went like this, I imagine" --Quint jerked his head to the side --"and the line parted."

"How could we hear it snap if it snapped under water?"

"It didn't snap under water, for Christ sake! It snapped right there." Quint pointed to a few inches of limp twine hanging from a cleat amids.h.i.+ps.

"Oh," said Brody. As he looked at the remnant, he saw another piece of twine --a few feet farther up the gunwale --go limp. "There's another one," he said. He stood and walked to the gunwale and pulled in the line.

"He must be right underneath us." Quint said, "Anybody care to go swimming?"

"Let's put the cage overboard," said Hooper.

"You're kidding," said Brody.

"No, I'm not. It might bring him out."

"With you in it?"

"Not at first. Let's see what he does. What do you say, Quint?"

"Might as well," said Quint. "Can't hurt just to put it in the, water, and you paid for it." He put down the harpoon, and he and Hooper walked to the cage. They tipped the cage onto its side, and Hooper opened the top hatch and crawled through it. He removed the scuba tank, regulator, face mask, and neoprene wet suit, and (117) set them on the deck. They tipped the cage upright again and slid it across the deck to the starboard gunwale. "You got a couple of lines?" said Hooper. "I want to make it fast to the boat." Quint went below and returned with two coils of rope. They tied one to an after cleat, one to a cleat amids.h.i.+ps, then secured the ends to the bars on top of the cage.

"Okay," said Hooper. "Let's put her over." They lifted the cage, tipped it backward, and pushed it overboard. It sank until the ropes stopped it, a few feet beneath the surface. There it rested, rising and falling slowly in the swells. The three men stood at the gunwale, looking into the water.

"What makes you think this'll bring him up?" said Brody.

"I didn't say 'up,'" said Hooper. "I said 'out.' I think he'll come out and have a look at it, to see whether he wants to eat it."

"That won't do us any d.a.m.n good," said Quint. "I can't stick him if he's twelve feet under water."

"Once he comes out," said Hooper, "maybe he'll come up. We're not having any luck with anything else."

But the fish did not come out. The cage lay quietly in the water, unmolested.

"There goes another squid," said Quint, pointing forward. "He's there, all right."

He leaned overboard and shouted, "G.o.d d.a.m.n you, fis.h.!.+ Come out where I can have a shot at you."

After fifteen minutes, Hooper said, "Oh well," and went below. He reappeared moments later, carrying a movie camera in a waterproof housing, and what looked to Brody like a walking stick with a thong at one end.

"What are you doing?" Brody said.

"I'm going down there. Maybe that'll bring him out."

"You're out of your G.o.ddam mind. What are you going to do if he does come out?"

"First, I'm going to take some pictures of him. Then I'm going to try to kill him."

"With what, may I ask?"

"This." Hooper held up the stick.

"Good thinking," Quint said with a derisive cackle. "If that doesn't work you can tickle him to death."

"What is that?" said Brody.

"Some people call it a bang stick. Others call it a power head. Anyway, it's basically an underwater gun." He pulled both ends of the stick, and it came apart in two pieces. "In here," he said, pointing to a chamber at the point where the stick had come apart, "you put a twelve-gauge shotgun sh.e.l.l." He took a shotgun sh.e.l.l from his pocket and pushed it into the chamber, then rejoined the two ends of the stick. "Then, when you get close enough to the fish, you jab it at him and the sh.e.l.l goes off. If you hit him right --in the brain's the only sure place --you kill him."

"Even a fish that big?"

"I think so. If I hit him right."

"And if you don't? Suppose you miss by just a hair."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"I would be, too," said Quint. "I don't think I'd like five thousand pounds of p.i.s.sed-off dinosaur trying to eat me."

"That's not my worry," said Hooper. "What concerns me is that if I miss, I might drive him off. He'd probably sound, and we'd never know if he died or not."

"Until he ate someone else," said Brody.

"That's right."

"You're f.u.c.king crazy," said Quint.

"Am I, Quint? You're not having much success with this fish. We could stay here all month and let him eat your bait right out from under us."

"He'll come up," said Quint. "Mark my words."

"You'll be dead of old age before he comes up, Quint. I think this fish has you all (118) shook. He's not playing by the rules."

Quint looked at Hooper and said evenly, "You telling me my business, boy?"

"No. But I am telling you I think this fish is more than you can handle."

"That right, boy? You think you can do better 'n Quint?"

"Call it that if you want. I think I can kill the fish."

"Fine and dandy. You're gonna get your chance." Brody said, "Come on. We can't let him go in that thing."

"What are you b.i.t.c.hin' about?" said Quint. "From what I seen, you just as soon he went down there and never come up. At least that'd stop him from --"

"Shut your mouth!" Brody's emotions were jumbled. Part of him didn't care whether Hooper lived or died --might even relish the prospect of Hooper's death. But such vengeance would be hollow --and quite possibly, unmerited. Could he really wish a man dead? No. Not yet.

"Go on," Quint said to Hooper. "Get in that thing."

"Right away." Hooper removed his s.h.i.+rt, sneakers, and trousers, and began to pull the neoprene suit over his legs. "When I'm inside," he said, forcing his arms into the rubber sleeves of the jacket, "stand up here and keep an eye. Maybe you can use the rifle if he gets close enough to the surface." He looked at Quint. "You can be ready with the harpoon... if you want to."

"I'll do what I'll do," said Quint. "You worry about yourself." When he was dressed, Hooper fit the regulator onto the neck of the air tank, tightened the wing nut that held it in place, and opened the air valve. He sucked two breaths from the tank to make sure it was feeding air. "Help me put this on, will you?" he said to Brody.

Brody lifted the tank and held it while Hooper slipped his arms through the straps and fastened a third strap around his middle. He put the face mask on his head. "I should have brought weights," said Hooper.

Quint said, "You should have brought brains." Hooper put his right wrist through the thong at the end of the power head, picked up the camera with his right hand, and said, "Okay." He walked to the gunwale. "If you'll each take a rope and pull, that'll bring the cage to the surface. Then I'll open the hatch and go in through the top, and you can let the ropes go. It'll hang by the ropes. I won't use the flotation tanks unless one of the ropes breaks."