He heaved away and she rolled line. The fish came, sometimes slowly, sometimes faster. A quarter of the line was in, half, two thirds, and then—
“Oh! Give him line!” she exclaimed. “He’ll have us both in the water.”
They gave him line, then started pulling in. Three times this was repeated. At last, apparently worn-out, the fish came all the way in.
“Give us a light,” Storm said, as the fish came close to the boat. “Let’s see what we have.” She switched on the small flashlight. “Ah! A small tuna! A beauty!” he breathed. “We must have him.”
“A small one!” she exclaimed.
“Perhaps twenty pounds.”
“How big is a big one?”
“Five hundred pounds is a nice size. We—”
“Watch out!” His words rang out sharply.
She dodged back. There had been a sudden white flash in the water. Then the line gave a great yank.