“Did you see the way he seemed to climb up and up, Tom? Did you ever see such a blue and that wonderful silver on him?”
“His sword is blue too,” young Tom said. “The whole back of it is blue. Will he really weigh a thousand pounds, Eddy?” he called down.
“I think he will. Nobody can say. But he’ll weigh something awful.”
“Get all the line you can, Davy, now while it’s cheap,” Roger told him. “You’re getting it fine.”
The boy was working like a machine again, recovering line from the great bulge of line in the water and the boat was backing so slowly that the movement was barely perceptible.
“What will he do now, papa?” Tom asked his father. Thomas Hudson was watching the slant of the line in the water and thinking it would be safer to go ahead just a little but he knew how Roger had suffered with so much line out.
The fish had only needed to make one steady rush to strip all the line from the reel and break off and now Roger was taking chances to get a reserve of line. As Thomas Hudson watched the line, he saw that David had the reel nearly half full and that he was still gaining.
“What did you say?” Thomas Hudson asked his boy Tom.
“What do you think he’ll do now?”
“Wait a minute, Tom,” his father said and called down to Roger. “I’m afraid we’re going to get over him, kid.”
“Then put her ahead easy,” Roger said.
“Ahead easy,” Thomas Hudson repeated. David stopped getting in so much line but the fish was in a safer position.
Then the line started to go out again and Roger called up, “Throw her out,” and Thomas Hudson threw out the clutches and let the motors idle.
“She’s out,” he said. Roger was bending over David and the boy was braced and holding back on the rod and the line was slipping steadily away.
“Tighten on him a little bit, Davy,” Roger said. “We’ll make him work for it.”
“I don’t want him to break,” David said. But he tightened the drag.
“He won’t break,” Roger told him. “Not with that drag.”
The line kept going out but the rod was bent heavier and the boy was braced back holding against the pressure with his bare feet against the wood of the stern. Then the line stopped going out.
“Now you can get some,” Roger told the boy. “He’s circling and this is the in-turn. Get back all you can.”
The boy lowered and reeled, then lifted; let the rod straighten; lowered and reeled. He was getting line beautifully again.
“Am I doing all right?” he asked.
“You’re doing wonderful,” Eddy told him. “He’s hooked deep, Davy. I could see when he jumped.”
Then, while the boy was lifting, the line started to go out again.
“Hell,” David said.
“That’s OK,” Roger told him. “That’s what’s supposed to happen. He’s on the out-turn now. He circled in toward you and you got line. Now he’s taking it back.”
Steadily, slowly, with David holding him with all the strain the line would take, the fish took out all the line the boy had just recovered and a little more. Then the boy held him.
“All right. Get to work on him,” Roger said quietly. “He widened his circle a little bit but he’s on the in-swing now.”
Thomas Hudson was using the engines only occasionally now to keep the fish astern. He was trying to do everything for the boy that the boat could do and he was trusting the boy and the fight to Roger. As he saw it there was no other thing to do.
On the next circle the fish gained a little line again. On the circle after that he gained too. But the boy still had almost half the line on the reel. He was still working the fish exactly as he should and delivering each time Roger asked him to do something. But he was getting very tired and the sweat and salt water had made salty blotches on his brown back and shoulders.
“Two hours even,” Eddy said to Roger. “How’s your head, Davy?”
“All right.”
“Not ache?”
The boy shook his head.
“You better drink some water this time,” Eddy said.
David nodded and drank when Andrew put the glass to his lips.
“How do you feel, Davy, really?” Roger asked him, bending close over him,
“Fine. All except my back and legs and arms.” He shut his eyes for an instant and held to the bucking of the rod as the line went out against the heavy drag.
“I don’t want to talk,” he said.
“You can get some on him now,” Roger told him and the boy went back to work.
“David’s a saint and a martyr,” Tom said to his father. “Boys don’t have brothers like David. Do you mind if I talk, papa? I’m awfully nervous about this.”
“Go ahead and talk, Tommy. We’re both worried.”
“He’s always been wonderful, you know,” Tom said. “He’s not a damn genius nor an athlete like Andy. He’s just wonderful. I know you love him the most and that’s right because he’s the best of us and I know this must be good for him or you wouldn’t let him do it. But it certainly makes me nervous.”
Thomas Hudson put an arm around his shoulder and steered, looking astern with only one hand on the wheel.
“The trouble is, Tommy, what it would do to him if we made him give it up. Roger and Eddy know everything about what they’re doing and I know they love him and wouldn’t have him do what he can’t do.”
“But there is no limit with him, papa. Truly. He’ll always do what he can’t do.”
“You trust me and I’ll trust Roger and Eddy.”
“All right. But I’m going to pray for him now.”
“You do,” said Thomas Hudson. “Why did you say I loved him the best?”
“You ought to.”
“I’ve loved you the longest.”
“Let’s not think about me nor you. Let’s both of us pray for Davy.”
“Good,” said Thomas Hudson. “Now look. We hooked him right at noon. There’s going to be some shade now. I think we’ve got some already. I’m going to work her around very softly and put Davy in the shade.”
Thomas Hudson called down to Roger. “If it’s OK with you, Roge, I’d like to work her around slow and put Dave in the shade. I don’t think it will make any difference with the fish the way he’s circling and we’ll be on his real course.”
“Fine,” Roger said. “I should have thought of it.”
“There hasn’t been any shade until now,” Thomas Hudson said. He worked the boat around so slowly, just swinging her on her stern, that they lost almost no line by the maneuver. David’s head and shoulders were now shaded by the aft part of the house. Eddy was wiping the boy’s neck and shoulders with a towel and putting alcohol on his back and on the back of his neck.
“How’s that, Dave?” young Tom called down to him.
“Wonderful,” David said.
“I feel better about him now,” young Tom said. “You know at school somebody said David was my half brother, not my real brother, and I told him we didn’t have half brothers in our family. I wish I didn’t worry so much though, papa.”
“You’ll get over it.”
“In a family like ours somebody has to worry,” young Tom said. “But I never worry about you anymore. It’s David now. I guess I better make a couple of more drinks. I can pray while I make them. Do you want one, papa?”
“I’d love one.”
“Eddy probably needs one pretty badly,” the boy said. “It must be nearly three hours. Eddy’s only had one drink in three hours. I’ve certainly been remiss about things. Why do you suppose Mr. Davis wouldn’t take one, papa?”
“I didn’t think he would take one while David was going through all that.”
“Maybe he will now Dave’s in the shade. I’ll try him now anyway.”
He went below.
“I don’t think so, Tommy,” Thomas Hudson heard Roger say.
“You haven’t had one all day, Mr. Davis,” Tom urged.
“Thanks, Tommy,” Roger said. “You drink a bottle of beer for me.” Then he called up to the wheel. “Put her ahead a little easy, Tom. He’s coming better on this tack.”
“Ahead a little easy,” Thomas Hudson repeated.
The fish was still circling deep, but in the direction the boat was headed now he was shortening the circle. It was the direction he wanted to move in. Now, too, it was easier to see the slant of the line. It was easier to see its true slant much deeper in the dark water with the sun behind the boat and Thomas Hudson felt safer steering with the fish. He thought how fortunate it was that the day was calm for he knew David could never have taken the punishment that he would have had if he were hooked to such a fish in even a moderate sea. Now that David was in the shade and the sea stayed calm he began to feel better about it all.
“Thanks, Tommy,” he heard Eddy say and then the boy climbed up with his paper-wrapped glass and Thomas Hudson tasted, took a swallow and felt the cold that had the sharpness of the lime, the aromatic varnishy taste of the Angostura and the gin stiffening the lightness of the ice-cold coconut water.
“Is it all right, papa?” the boy asked. He had a bottle of beer from the icebox that was perspiring cold drops in the sun.
“It’s excellent,” his father told him. “You put in plenty of gin too.”
“I
