“Keep her just as she is,” Roger said without looking back and Thomas Hudson answered, “Just as she is.”
“Oh God look at him,” young Tom said.
Now he was really huge, bigger than any swordfish Thomas Hudson had ever seen. All the great length of him was purple blue now instead of brown and he was swimming slowly and steadily in the same direction the boat was going; astern of the boat and on David’s right.
“Keep him coming all the time, Davy,” Roger said. “He’s coming in just right.”
“Go ahead just a touch,” Roger said, watching the fish.
“Ahead just a touch,” Thomas Hudson answered.
“Keep it spooled,” Eddy told David. Thomas Hudson could see the swivel of the leader now out of water.
“Ahead just a little more,” Roger said.
“Going ahead just a little more,” Thomas Hudson repeated. He was watching the fish and easing the stern onto the course that he was swimming. He could see the whole great purple length of him now, the great broad sword forward, the slicing dorsal fin set in his wide shoulders, and his huge tail that drove him almost without a motion.
“Just a touch more ahead,” Roger said.
“Going ahead a touch more.”
David had the leader within reach now.
“Are you ready for him, Eddy?” Roger asked.
“Sure,” Eddy said.
“Watch him, Tom,” Roger said and leaned over and took hold of the cable leader.
“Slack off on your drag,” he said to David and began slowly raising the fish, holding and lifting on the heavy cable to bring him within reach of the gaff.
The fish was coming up looking as long and as broad as a big log in the water. David was watching him and glancing up at his rod tip to make sure it was not fouled. For the first time in six hours he had no strain on his back and his arms and legs and Thomas Hudson saw the muscles in his legs twitching and quivering. Eddy was bending over the side with the gaff and Roger was lifting slowly and steadily.
“He’d go over a thousand,” Eddy said. Then he said, very quietly, “Roger, hook’s only holding by a thread.”
“Can you reach him?” Roger asked.
“Not yet,” Eddy said. “Keep him coming easy, easy.”
Roger kept lifting on the wire cable and the great fish rose steadily toward the boat.
“It’s been cutting,” Eddy said. “It’s just holding by nothing.”
“Can you reach him now?” Roger asked. His tone had not changed.
“Not quite yet,” Eddy said as quietly. Roger was lifting as gently and as softly as he could. Then, from lifting, he straightened, all strain gone, holding the slack leader in his two hands.
“No. No. No. Please God, no,” young Tom said.
Eddy lunged down into the water with the gaff and then went overboard to try to get the gaff into the fish if he could reach him.
It was no good. The great fish hung there in the depth of water where he was like a huge dark purple bird and then settled slowly. They all watched him go down, getting smaller and smaller until he was out of sight.
Eddy’s hat was floating on the calm sea and he was holding onto the gaff handle. The gaff was on the line that was fast to the Samson post in the stern. Roger put his arms around David and Thomas Hudson could see David’s shoulders shaking. But he left David to Roger. “Get the ladder out for Eddy to come aboard,” he said to young Tom. “Take Davy’s rod, Andy. Unhook it.”
Roger lifted the boy out of the chair and carried him over to the bunk at the starboard side of the cockpit and laid him down in it. Roger’s arms were around David and the boy lay flat on his face on the bunk.
Eddy came on board soaked and dripping, and started to undress. Andrew fished out his hat with the gaff and Thomas Hudson went below to get Eddy a shirt and a pair of dungarees and a shirt and shorts for David. He was surprised that he had no feeling at all except pity and love for David. All other feeling had been drained out of him in the fight.