154 ALBACORA 



"Gums, Luis. I hate to admit it, but it does." 



"What?" Rivas said, as much exclaiming as he was 

 asking. 



"To me, it looks like the gums of a jut-toothed old 

 mako shark," I said, "who's smiling because he knows 

 he'll get away." 



"You have fish on the brain," Rivas said. 



"I know. I've been suffering from it for years." 



"This certainly ought to be your day," Rivas said. 

 "You deserve a giant albacora if even the sunrise makes 

 you think of fish." 



I walked back to my chair in the stern, grabbed the 

 twenty-four-thread gear, and fitted my fighting harness 

 to the reel. I tested my leg against the foot brace. It 

 was no better but it was unaffected by yesterday's ex- 

 ertions. I tested my drag. I put a glove on my left hand 

 and then there was nothing to do but wait. 



One by one, the men came around to wish me luck. 

 I thanked them all. 



"Don't you think you ought to wait a day or two," 

 Lou asked, "before you make a try for the big one?" 



"Lou, I can't wait. Something's got me going and I 

 don't know what it is, but I'm getting like you." 



"You've always wanted big fish," Lou said. 



"I know," I said, "but this is different. That big one 

 getting away yesterday did something to me. I don't 

 know just how to tell you. I can't put it into words." 



"You don't have to," Lou said. "I know the feeling." 



