On bridge - Hooper and Quint

 

QUINT

(suddenly, pointing)

Over there!

 

HOOPER

What do you see?

 

QUINT

(still looking)

At least you handle the boat all

right. Stop. Here... Cut the engine.

 

Hooper cuts the engines as Quint swings nimbly down. He stands

stock still on the main deck, motioning Brody to be silent.

 

Then picking up the newly rigged rod, Quint softshoes it

over to the chair. About to sit down, he freezes.

 

CLOSE - QUINT

 

looking hard at something.

 

CLOSE - BRODY

 

staring, eyes widening.

 

CLOSE - HOOPER

 

moving in, surprised, interested, fascinated.

 

THEIR COMBINED POINT OF VIEW

 

We see the shark. First the fin... then the head and upper

jaws, ten or twenty yards off the side of the boat. It finally

submerges, its tail giving a final slap.

 

ANGLE ON QUINT

 

He puts his rod away and stares at it. And stares. And stares.

 

Hooper is the first to break the silence.

 

HOOPER

20 feet, if it's an inch...

 

QUINT

25 feet. And three tons of him there.

 

Hooper is nearly beside himself with a strange ecstasy. He

leaps toward his gear.

 

QUINT

(quietly, to Brody)

I never saw one that big.

 

BRODY

What do we do? Get some help? Radio

in?

 

Quint ignores him and moves off into the pilot house, where

he swiftly takes out his green case, and opens it to begin

to assemble something inside it. Brody is alone on the deck

with Hooper.

 

BRODY

How're we gonna handle this?

 

Hooper is contained in his own excitement. He has finally

come up with what he was looking for -- an expensive Nikon

through which he peers intently at the shark alongside. He

is talking half to himself as he fine-tunes the range finder

and focus.

 

He is squeaking and bubbling in an unsuppressed emotional

boil.

 

HOOPER

(very, very high)

There's a formula! Girth, about 150

inches, squared, divide by 800 --

son of a bitch, they are not going

to believe this! -- divide by 2000...

three tons!

(after Quint)

You're right, you old fart! Three

tons!

(ad libs ecstasy)

 

CLOSE ON QUINT IN THE PILOT HOUSE

 

He is assembling the Greener harpoon gun, deftly screwing on

the long wooden stock, the heavy steel barrel, and big shaft

with the wicked barbs, the frame all rigged with line. Past

him, on the deck, we can still see Hooper. As Quint is working

with the gun, the radio suddenly squawks into life.

 

RADIO VOICE (V.O.)

Amity Point Light Station to Orca.

This is Amity Point Light Station,

to Orca...

 

Quint snaps the mouthpiece to his lips.

 

QUINT

Orca here.

 

RADIO VOICE (V.O.)

I have Mrs. Martin Brody here...

 

QUINT

Put her on.

 

ELLEN'S VOICE

...push this? Oh. It's working. Hello,

Martin?

 

QUINT

This is Quint, Missus.

 

ELLEN'S VOICE

I just wanted to know if you were

all right... the Coast Guard let me

use their radio. Is Chief Brody there?

 

QUINT

He's busy.

 

ELLEN'S VOICE

Well... is everything all right?

 

QUINT

Just fine, Missus. We'll be back

soon. Everything's fine. We haven't

seen anything yet. Orca out.

 

He snaps off the radio, and, for good measure, pulls the

plug from the power source.

 

ANGLE FROM DECK

 

The big shark is slicing through the water just below the

surface, its fin high, the big gray back glistening, the

teeth gleaming.

 

ANGLE - INCLUDING FOREDECK

 

HOOPER

(on deck)

Damn it! I need something in the

foreground to give it some scale.

Martin! Stand here! No, to your left!

 

He is positioning Martin frantically, trying to include Brody,

the shark, and the Orca in the same frame. Quint finishes

with the gun, and as a final gesture, snaps an explosive

cartridge into the breech. He empties the box of cartridges

onto the table, snatches up a big handful, and drops them

into a pocket, and heads out on deck, bound for the bow

pulpit.

 

ON DECK

 

Quint appears with the harpoon gun. He throws one end of the

line to Hooper.

 

QUINT

Here. Rig this to the forward keg up

there.

 

He indicates the barrels on the foredeck.

 

QUINT

(to Brody)

Get up there and steer her. Follow

my hand, and hold 'er steady. I've

got to get a clean shot at that

porker's head.

 

Quint moves up toward the bow, Brody goes up to the flying

bridge to take the wheel, Hooper starts for the foredeck,

but stops to rummage in his kit, throwing gear around as he

desperately hunts for something.

 

QUINT

Hurry up, rig the line!

 

ANGLE ON HOOPER

 

He finds what he's looking for. A small, powerful strobe

unit, waterproofed, a miniature signal beacon. He triggers

it, and it begins to pulse with a light we can see even in

the sun.

 

Hooper scampers to the foredeck and begins to rig the light

to the first barrel, as the shark begins to surface near the

bow.

 

QUINT

(to Brody)

Come to port. Watch my hand. Steady

now...

 

He guides Brody with hand signals. Brody tries urgently to

get it right, not to oversteer, to try to hold the big boat

with its throbbing diesels on the course that Quint is

indicating.

 

QUINT

The line, man, the line!

 

Hooper is rigging like crazy.

 

FROM THE FLYING BRIDGE

 

Brody steering f.g., Hooper on the foredeck with the barrels,

Quint leaning out over the pulpit, the gun at the ready, the

shark crossing inexorably in front of them.

 

CLOSE ON QUINT

 

Agonizing over his shot as the shark approaches, glancing

back to see if the line is properly rigged and Hooper is

clear of it.

 

QUINT

Get clear, damn you!

 

The shark is in position, Hooper shouts, a moment too late.

 

HOOPER

Clear!

 

Quint fires. The harpoon slams into the shark behind his

head, half-way along the back in front of the big dorsal

fin.

 

QUINT

Jesus H. Christ On a Crutch!