“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 pissed-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 fucking 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 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 bitchin’ 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 shirt, 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.”