three-quarters eaten. The other two sat side by side on the pier like two giant canoes.
Uncle Raz waved a beer around as he pointed everything out to us. “This is the part where the sharks finish off the old man’s fish,” he said. “It’s a shame. It was a nice one.”
Dad laughed, but I didn’t think Uncle Raz meant it as a joke.
“Quiet on the set,” a man behind us yelled. The crowd of people hushed down until it was completely silent. Someone coughed. Uncle Raz scowled and turned to see who it was.
“Action!” The sharks jerked a little when they started, but moved smoothly as soon as they had gone a few feet. The old man stood up, this time with a club.
“Come on,
galanos”
he said. “Come in again!”
The sharks headed for the marlin and the old man beat down on the one closest to him.
“Cut!” shouted the voice from the crowd.
“Still looks fake,” Keo said, shaking his head.
“They only use a small part ofthat,” Uncle Raz said. “They mix it in with shots of real sharks.”
The old man sat back down in the skiff. He took off his hat and glanced over at the people on the pier. When he saw Keo and me he waved and smiled. Dad put his hand on my shoulder. Uncle Raz thought the old man was waving at him and waved back.
The boss of the movies puttered out to the old man in afiberglass skiff and began talking to him. The two sharks swam backward, back out to sea.
“I saw you boys talking with the old man a couple of days ago,” Uncle Raz said. “You were lucky to be in the right place at the right time. He’s a hard man to get to see, let alone talk to.”
“We had a shark to show him,” Keo said, “but we had to let it go. We wanted to tell him about sharks so he would know what to do in that skiff when they make the movie.”
“And he could see how they turn over when they bite a floating fish,” I added.
“Hah!” Uncle Raz said. “Do you two know how many of those buggers they got on a line out at the barge? He’s been looking at sharks for weeks. He doesn’t need to hear about them from you.”
I looked at Uncle Raz, surprised. Keo just kept on staring at the old man.
The boss came back to the pier.
“Look how fake it looks next time the sharks come in,” Keo said. “If there are sharks out at the barge he must not have seen them.”
“Boy, you crazy,” Uncle Raz said. “That old man is a famous movie star. He knows what he’s doing. What do you think
you
can tell him that he doesn’t already know?”
Keo kept staring out in the direction of the skiff. He was as stubborn as Uncle Raz.
“Quiet on the set.”
As the sharks attacked the old man’s marlin yet once again, I watched him stand against them. His khaki pants were wrinkled and baggy, his shirt torn. The club rose and fell pathetically into the ocean, into the last moments of the hopeless battle. It is now, I thought, that he knows it’s over. He’s tired. The sharks will win. I could still see the cables, and the sharks looked stiff, like rubber pontoons. But this time I hardlynoticed them. The movement of the club, rising and falling over and over and over, held me spellbound, like watching Dad, tense and grimacing, clubbing a shuddering
abi
that refused to die. The old man captured me in a way I couldn’t explain. Some invisible power commanded all of my attention, like the blurry mass rising beneath me from the illusion of a stable ocean floor.
The boss of the movies let the camera run, and the old man kept striking aimlessly at the shapes in the water, until he fell to his knees and mumbled a last few brokenhearted words to the ravaged marlin. The crowd on the pier was dead silent. It was as if everyone had stopped breathing.
“Cut.” The boss’s voice trailed out over the water. The old man rested on his knees in the bottom of the boat. No one said a word.
Except Keo.
“The cables,” he whispered, shaking his head.
The old man came back to the pier in a boat with the boss. The
Uncle Raz waved a beer around as he pointed everything out to us. “This is the part where the sharks finish off the old man’s fish,” he said. “It’s a shame. It was a nice one.”
Dad laughed, but I didn’t think Uncle Raz meant it as a joke.
“Quiet on the set,” a man behind us yelled. The crowd of people hushed down until it was completely silent. Someone coughed. Uncle Raz scowled and turned to see who it was.
“Action!” The sharks jerked a little when they started, but moved smoothly as soon as they had gone a few feet. The old man stood up, this time with a club.
“Come on,
galanos”
he said. “Come in again!”
The sharks headed for the marlin and the old man beat down on the one closest to him.
“Cut!” shouted the voice from the crowd.
“Still looks fake,” Keo said, shaking his head.
“They only use a small part ofthat,” Uncle Raz said. “They mix it in with shots of real sharks.”
The old man sat back down in the skiff. He took off his hat and glanced over at the people on the pier. When he saw Keo and me he waved and smiled. Dad put his hand on my shoulder. Uncle Raz thought the old man was waving at him and waved back.
The boss of the movies puttered out to the old man in afiberglass skiff and began talking to him. The two sharks swam backward, back out to sea.
“I saw you boys talking with the old man a couple of days ago,” Uncle Raz said. “You were lucky to be in the right place at the right time. He’s a hard man to get to see, let alone talk to.”
“We had a shark to show him,” Keo said, “but we had to let it go. We wanted to tell him about sharks so he would know what to do in that skiff when they make the movie.”
“And he could see how they turn over when they bite a floating fish,” I added.
“Hah!” Uncle Raz said. “Do you two know how many of those buggers they got on a line out at the barge? He’s been looking at sharks for weeks. He doesn’t need to hear about them from you.”
I looked at Uncle Raz, surprised. Keo just kept on staring at the old man.
The boss came back to the pier.
“Look how fake it looks next time the sharks come in,” Keo said. “If there are sharks out at the barge he must not have seen them.”
“Boy, you crazy,” Uncle Raz said. “That old man is a famous movie star. He knows what he’s doing. What do you think
you
can tell him that he doesn’t already know?”
Keo kept staring out in the direction of the skiff. He was as stubborn as Uncle Raz.
“Quiet on the set.”
As the sharks attacked the old man’s marlin yet once again, I watched him stand against them. His khaki pants were wrinkled and baggy, his shirt torn. The club rose and fell pathetically into the ocean, into the last moments of the hopeless battle. It is now, I thought, that he knows it’s over. He’s tired. The sharks will win. I could still see the cables, and the sharks looked stiff, like rubber pontoons. But this time I hardlynoticed them. The movement of the club, rising and falling over and over and over, held me spellbound, like watching Dad, tense and grimacing, clubbing a shuddering
abi
that refused to die. The old man captured me in a way I couldn’t explain. Some invisible power commanded all of my attention, like the blurry mass rising beneath me from the illusion of a stable ocean floor.
The boss of the movies let the camera run, and the old man kept striking aimlessly at the shapes in the water, until he fell to his knees and mumbled a last few brokenhearted words to the ravaged marlin. The crowd on the pier was dead silent. It was as if everyone had stopped breathing.
“Cut.” The boss’s voice trailed out over the water. The old man rested on his knees in the bottom of the boat. No one said a word.
Except Keo.
“The cables,” he whispered, shaking his head.
The old man came back to the pier in a boat with the boss. The
Similar Books
