“It’s a record,” he said, his ruddy face drenched with sweat. “Whatever it is, it’s gotta be a record.”

“I’m so proud of you, pookums,” Missy said.

“I haven’t bloody caught it yet! And my arms are about to fall off.”

“Should I take over?” Chan asked.

“No bloody way! This bastard is mine.”

Suddenly the rod bent so far Karlo feared it might snap in two.

“Stop winding,” Chan instructed.

Karl stopped, and the fish stopped pulling. “What now?”

“We wait.”

∆∆∆

A few minutes later the rod jerked and the line unspooled blisteringly fast as the fish took off.

“Bloody oath!” Karlo said, holding onto the rod with all his strength, fighting to keep the tip high in the air.

“Let it run again,” Chan said.

When the fish was around a thousand meters from the boat, Karlo said, “I’m running out of line!”

“Tighten the drag.”

Karlo tightened it. The rod bent again, but the reel was no longer spinning. Stalemate. This slogged on, one minute, then two, then five. Every so often Karlo tried jerking the rod to no avail. “It feels like the bloody thing’s hooked to the bottom of the ocean,” he complained. “Maybe it’s dead down there?”

Chan frowned. “Maybe. I’ll put the boat back in gear and try pulling it up—”

Yet even as he spoke, the tip of the nearly U-shaped fishing rod rose slowly.

“It’s surfacing!”

“It’s exhausted. Do you have slack?”

“Some.”

“Then reel it in.”

Despite Karlo’s previous reluctance to share the catch with anyone, he thrust the rod at Chan. “You reel it in. I’m aching all over.”

He gave his arms and back a stretch, then winked and grinned at Missy. “What do you reckon, love? Bloody exciting, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” she said, though she didn’t look excited. She looked how she had looked all morning: like she wanted to be anywhere else than on the boat.

He pinched one of her nipples through the bikini top.

“Ouch!” she cried, slapping his hand away.

Still grinning, Karlo went to the ice box and retrieved a cold beer. Returning to Chan and Missy, he finished half the bottle, set it on the fighting chair, and snatched the rod back from the skipper.

“Keep winding,” Chan told him. “Not too fast.”

Karlo began winding, thrilled by the massive weight on the other end of the line.

It’s a monster. A bloody monster.

When he recovered about three quarters of the line, the rod once again bent suddenly, almost to the surface of the water.

“Hang on tight!” Chan told him.

“Don’t lose it!” Missy cried.

Away went the line, peeling off the reel at a furious rate.

“Fuck’s sake!” Karlo said. “You said it was exhausted!”

“Let it run!”

It wasn’t long before the reel was almost out of line for the second time. Karlo locked the drag and held on with all his strength, praying the line didn’t snap under the load.

“Shouldn’t the bloody thing be jumping out of the water and tail-walking all over the place?” Karlo yelled, as he struggled to gain the line back inch by inch.