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.