Insert - shark wriggling on hook

 

Tailrope dropping on him. Gaffed and bleeding, the shark is

immobilized by Quint's practiced hands. He takes one of his

big knives and poses for a moment beside the struggling fish.

 

QUINT

These greedy sons-a-bitches will eat

their own guts.

 

He slices into the shark's underbelly. We hear the sound of

entrails plopping into the water. Brody is almost retching,

and Hooper is just displeased.

 

ANGLE ON THE WATER

 

The gutted shark swimming in circles biting at its own

entrails.

 

ANOTHER ANGLE

 

Fins closing in on the wounded shark.

 

QUINT

Go ahead, you cannibals. Tell 'em

where you got it!

 

SHARK FRENZY

 

A boil of water and the flash of fins and teeth as the local

sharks erupt in a feeding frenzy, jaws snapping, blood

spewing, a sudden display of the fury and blind predatory

drive of the fearsome species.

 

HOOPER

What's that supposed to prove?

 

QUINT

Just a little appetizer. I want our

porker to know we're serving. I want

to put some iron into that big yap...

 

HOOPER AND BRODY REACT AS WE

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

EXT. THE OCEAN - AFTERNOON

 

The Orca is drifting in neutral. The ocean is like gelatin,

the sun sucking heat waves from its surface. Brody at the

stern, handkerchief on his head to protect from further

sunburn, has been handed the slimiest job on a shark hunt:

the ladling out of chum. There are several empty chum barrels.

A flag buoy bobs in the wake of the boat, another waits to

be tossed over the side. Brody is reeling with nausea. He

opens his overnight kit and takes out a handkerchief and

some Old Spice after-shave. He pours the after-shave into

the cloth, presses it to his nose. Hooper is also in the

stern.

 

QUINT

Keep that chum line going -- we've

got five good miles. Don't break it.

 

BRODY

Who's driving the boat?

 

QUINT

Nobody. We're drifting with the

current.

 

HOOPER

(using the fish finder)

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

 

QUINT

(to Hooper)

Hell, in the old days we went out

with good charts, good sounding lead,

and a damn good compass. Nowadays,

these kids are afraid to go out

without depth finders, radar, radio,

electric toothbrush, every stupid

thing...

 

Quint opens a can of beer and drains it in one long pull,

crushing the empty and throwing it over the side. Hooper

drains his coffee from a styrofoam cup, and cracks it in his

hand with a silly "plup." He stows the pieces in an empty

chum barrel.

 

QUINT

(to Brody)

Get a fresh barrel.

 

Brody goes to unlash a fresh barrel, but can't figure out

the knots. He finally tugs on a piece of rope, and it all

comes loose... barrel, shark cage, and, most important,

Hooper's tanks, clattering and rolling on the deck.

 

HOOPER

(jumping up)

Watch it! Compressed air -- you screw

around with one of those and Boom!

Careful, huh?

 

QUINT

(mutters)

Real fine stuff but it won't mean a

thing to Mr. Whitey, of course... he

didn't go to schools in electronics.

He was born with what he does best.

Eat. He's a swimming appetite. 'Course

he might eat this stuff, but then

I've seen him eat a rocking chair,

too.

(to Brody)

Next time, ask me.

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

LATER

 

The men are in different positions on the boat. Hooper on

the flying bridge. Quint in the stern, Brody hanging over

the rail, puking.

 

Quint takes a wide red strip of whale meat and a gnarled

squid from the garbage pail, and searches for a No. 2 hook

rig. He holds up a strip of whale.

 

HOOPER

(eyeing bait)

That's pilot whale, isn't it?

 

QUINT

It ain't a Big Mac.

(to Brody)

The expert don't approve. What do

you thing? You're closer to the

situation.

(laughs)

 

Brody shades his eyes from the white sun as Quint baits up.

 

BRODY

(croaky)

Why are we way out here, when the

shark's back there?

 

QUINT

(snapping bait to his

leader)

...'cause this is where he lives.

You gotta think like they do.

 

HOOPER

(to himself)

Easy for you -- they got a brain the

size of a radish.

 

Quint sits in the fighting chair. He casts off, murmuring as

the line feeds out.

 

QUINT

(to Brody)

Now if he weren't around, we'd of

hooked something else by now, wouldn't

we? But he scared 'em all away. Big

lonesome son of a bitch...

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

LATER

 

Quint at ease in his chair, Brody near him, practicing tying

knots. The line starts to move, a few feet at a time; both

men watch. Then the line whizzes off the reel. Brody jumps

up. Hooper springs to the deck. Quint puts his hand on the

drag and addresses the situation softly.

 

QUINT

-- he'll gulp it down now...

(making gulping noises)

Hooooooo!

 

Quint tightens drag and strikes. The line goes whizzing out.

 

Brody runs to Quint's side. Hooper springs up to the flying

bridge.

 

BRODY

You got it?

 

QUINT

(turning with the

pull)

Get behind me, dummy!

(shouts to Hooper)

Reverse her and turn -- he's taking

too much line!

(to Brody)

Wet my reel, quick!

 

Brody goes to get water, the boat surges, he staggers. Brody

pours water on the screaming reel, nearly unspooled now.

 

Hooper is turning the boat around and the line changes

direction.

 

QUINT

(straining, muscles

popping)

Starboard, for Chris'sake --

 

Hooper steers it sharply.

 

QUINT

(to Hooper)

Hey, you! Farmer! Half-speed there...

 

HOOPER

(almost to himself)

Aye, Aye SIR. Stand by to repel

boarders. Poop the mainsail. Argh,

Jim Boy.

 

Again the line changes direction, down this time.

 

QUINT

(to Hooper)

Neutral!

(to himself)

Where the hell is he going?

 

Quint reeling in like mad.

 

QUINT

Oh, this ain't foolin' me --

(rod arcs down with a

surge)

Sure -- try it!

 

He ad libs brief instructions to Brody as the line rushes

out and there is less tension. Quint is horsing up and down,

reeling in.

 

QUINT

Makin' believe it's easy now.

 

The line is almost vertical, and Quint shows a hint of

bafflement. He reels in suspiciously.

 

QUINT

Gettin' ready to run again -- no?

No?

(suspicious)

What's he playin' here?

(reels in furiously,

to Brody)

Put the gloves on!

(to fish)

Let's see who's gonna tease who now!

 

HOOPER

Let it go, don't waste your time.

 

QUINT

(to Hooper)

Down here, Hooper!

 

Hooper is rushing down.

 

HOOPER

I don't know what it is, but it's

not a shark.

 

QUINT

(bathed in sweat;

hauling, reeling)

Look -- you may be a big Yahoo in

the lab, but out here you're just

supercargo, and you'll do as I say,

or you can take your gear and

backstroke home. Now get down here!

 

The leaders show above the water line. Brody is wide-eyed,

waiting for that first look.

 

BRODY

The wire's showing!

 

QUINT

(to Brody)

Unbuckle me -- fast!

(to Hooper)

Grab the leader. He ain't normal,

this one... they never --

 

HOOPER

It's too wild, too erratic. It's a

marlin or a stingray. It's a gamefish.

 

Hooper snaps the rope onto the leader and holds on.

 

QUINT

Watch your hands --

(suddenly to Brody)

Grab onto this!

 

Before he realizes what's happening, Brody is clumsily

clutching at the big rod, appalled. Quint skips away for a

flying gaff. He picks one, turns...

 

That's when the leader lashes free, sending Hooper crashing

backward in a serious fall, and the rod whips at Brody's

forehead, drawing blood. Quint snatches up the rod and reels

in.

 

The wires have been bitten through.

 

QUINT

(to Hooper)

A marlin, or a stingray. Huh. Don't

ever tell me my business again. Get

back up on the bridge.

 

HOOPER

(stunned)

I'm okay...

 

QUINT

(to Brody)

Fasten the pole.

 

BRODY

What's the point with hooks and Lines? --

 

QUINT

Don't tell me my business!

(to Hooper, points)

Quarter-mile, that way. Full throttle.

 

Hooper shakes off his dizziness and obeys. Brody watches

Quint rig up a new leader, hook up the same bait.

 

BRODY

(nursing forehead,

gesturing at rod and

reel)

How -- if they're gonna keep on

breaking?

 

QUINT

What I do is trick him to the surface,

got that? Then I can jab him,

understand?

(goes to flybridge,

muttering)

Think I'm gonna haul it in as if

he's a catfish, like everyone else

does?

 

Brody goes inside to inspect his forehead.