He jerked the tiller free from the rudder and beat and chopped with it,holding it in both hands and driving it down again and again.But they were up to the bow now and driving in one after the other and together,tearing off the pieces of meat that showed glowing below the sea as they turned to come once more.
The two sharks closed together and as he saw the one nearest him open his jaws and sink them into the silver side of the fish,he raised the club high and brought it down heavy and slamming onto the top of the shark's broad head.He felt the rubbery solidity as the club came down.But he felt the rigidity of bone too and he struck the shark once more hard across the point of the nose as he slid down from the fish.
But in the dark now and no glow showing and no lights and only the wind and the steady pull of the sail he felt that perhaps he was already dead.He put his two hands together and felt the palms.They were not dead and he could bring the pain of life by simply opening and closing them.He leaned his back against the stern and he knew he was not dead.His shoulders told him.
I could not expect to kill them,he thought.I could have in my time.But I have hurt them both badly and neither one can feel very good.If I could have used a bat with two hands I could have killed the first one surely.Even now,he thought.