“Why not?”

“It’s foolishness, that’s why. A sensible man knows his limits. That’s beyond our limits.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s beyond any man’s limits. A fish that big could eat that cage for breakfast.”

“But would he? I don’t think so. I think he might bump it, might even mouth it, but I don’t think he’d seriously try to eat it.”

“He would if he saw something as juicy as you inside.”

“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 twenty-foot 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, “Shit, 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.”

“Fuck 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.”

“Can’t do it,” said Quint. “Not on this short notice.”

“Then the hell 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?”