30 ALBACORA 



out of the sea, his bill aimed at our boat. Still holding 

 my reel, I ducked. 



Both Walt and I were lucky. Our bellywhopping 

 marlin misgauged his jump, sailed over the bow of the 

 WaWa and hit the water on the other side. I was sweat- 

 ing now. "Let's get moving," I said to Walt. 



To my amazement, Walt was laughing. "He damn 

 near landed in your lap that time, Genie," Walt said. 

 "Let's hope Doty got that shot." 



"Next time he'll probably split the boat in half," I 

 said. 



"He won't get the chance," Walt said. 



Well, he had the motor and I had the rod, and I sup- 

 pose that ought to be enough for any fishing party. We 

 were working for good pictures, and what better ones 

 could there be than those of a small boat battling a big 

 fish? I looked back toward the Explorer, feeling a sensa- 

 tion of pride. I was concerned and curious about Lou's 

 reaction to my unexpected getaway in the WaWa, The 

 look I took at the big boat was long, careful and dis- 

 appointing. 



"Walt," I said. "They aren't watching us at all." 



"I know," Walt said. "They've spotted something 

 else." He was turned toward the Explorer, too. 



"An albacora." 



"No," Walt said, looking hard. "It seems as if they're 

 running right abreast of a whole school of whales." 



"Not again," I said. "No more whales." 



"They look like fifty-footers," Walt said, just as if 



