Jaws Fanfiction: Captain Quint Shark Hunter Summary
Jaws Fanfiction: Captain Quint Shark Hunter is a Jaws Fanfiction write by a fan. we do not own the original story. New chapter release will be updated instantly on novelgates.com
Jaws Fanfiction: Captain Quint Shark Hunter Summary:
This is the first in a series of projected stories about Captain Quint recast as a comic book hero. This is his origin story and is called ‘Hell in the Pacific’. The original character was created by Peter Benchley in his novel Jaws.
Jaws Fanfiction: Captain Quint Shark Hunter first chapter:
1. Chapter 1 Infamy
Chapter One: Infamy
Abel Quint, seventeen years of age, sat on a scuffed yellow barrel at the end of the harbor pier, his collar turned up against the wind. Snow swirled in the air. The prints of his seaman’s boots along the boardwalk had already been obliterated by the fresh fall. But Abel didn’t mind the cold. He preferred the tang of salt in his lungs to the oppressive atmosphere of his parents’ home with the threat of an argument always in the air and the pervasive stink of his father’s drinking. The winters were the worst – Amity was a summer town, and summer was when the work was good. Abel was a deck hand on the Marlin,a thirty foot fishing boat chartered by the rich city folk who holidayed on the island. After Labour Day, Abel got laid off, and through the autumn and the winter worked a series of jobs – washing dishes, gutting mackerel, flaying sharks, – anything that kept him off welfare. He didn’t want any hand-outs. He was going to make his own way in the world. His father laughed at him. What had he got that was so special? He was just a dumb-ass kid, who had left school barely able to read and write. What was he going to do with his life? And then his father took another pull on the bottle and turned his cruelty on his wife. Abel would leave the house, banging the door shut. Whenever one of his black moods came on him, he would run down to the sea, and simply by looking out at the vast Atlantic his nerves would settle.
In his hands he held a length of rope which he absently turned and coiled into a series of knots. He remembered his grandfather teaching him, patiently guiding him through the movements. The little brown eel comes out of the cave, swims into the hole, comes out of the hole, and goes back into the cave again. They would sit out on the dock together, boy and man, as the sun went down, and he would listen to tales of the Great War and of the ships running the gauntlet of German submarines. His grandfather had died five years ago round about the time his mother had taken to religion.
Sundays were the worst. As usual his mother had come back from church and started in on his father,who was already half drunk. Abel tried to shut out the shrill cries of scripture and the harsh curse words coming from downstairs. He grabbed his jacket and left by the kitchen door. He made his way down to the harbor, drawn by the cry of the gulls. Abel walked to the end of the dock and looked towards the horizon. The water was gray and marbled like a tomb.
After an hour of sitting there, knotting and unknotting a frayed length of rope, he began to regret leaving the house without eating. There was no point going home because there would be no food on the table, only his mother sobbing upstairs in the bedroom and his father slumped in a chair, an empty bottle slipping from his loosening grip as he drifted into a drunken sleep. If he walked into town, he could go by the diner on Franklin. He checked his pockets for loose change and trawled up eighty nine cents, enough for a sandwich and a soda. Abel took one last look out at the ocean and with a fisherman’s eye noticed the dark mass of cloud gathering on the horizon: a storm was coming.
He walked back along the dock. As he passed the harbormaster’s hut, he noticed a small red glow coming from behind the unwashed panes – Frank Silva enjoying some solitude and a pipe of tobacco. He walked along the front and turned into Main Street. As he walked up the hill he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. He turned just as a man ran past him. He then saw another man running in the same direction, and another, and a group of three together. They all seemed to be converging on one place: the town hall. Abel picked up his own pace and followed. Up ahead he could see there was already a crowd on the steps of the white clapboard building. He reached the edge of the crowd.
‘What’s going on?’ Abel asked the man closest to him.
‘You ain’t heard?’ The man said and then turned away, calling to a friend.
Abel elbowed his way through the crowd and pressed his way inside. The main entrance – which was nothing much more than a corridor that led to the various civic offices – was full of people shouting. One man – dressed for church in a sober suit and tie – was trying to bring some kind of order to the proceedings by standing on a chair and attempting to address the crowd. Abel recognised him as Robert Vaughn, Amity’s mayor and the father of a kid named Larry who had been a year behind him in high school, and had made a name for himself in the debating team. His dad had the same gift of the gab, and some people said that maybe he should run for governor.
The mayor raised his voice to be heard and the noise from the crowd finally subsided.
‘Let’s go back to the council chambers where we’ll have more room. Have the women wait outside.’
Vaughn led the way down the corridor with the crowd pressing at his back. Abel followed and managed to slip inside the room just as they were closing the door. Vaughn and several of the selectmen had taken up position around the curved council table and the mayor was banging his gavel to call the room to order. With each strike of the gavel, the tiny decorative flags set on the table top jumped.
‘Please, let’s have some order. Let’s have some order.’
The hubbub died down.
‘Thank , you all know why we’re here.’ Immediately the men started talking again and the mayor struck the table with his gavel. ‘Alright, gentlemen, please. I know feelings are running high – ‘
‘Damn right they are,’ someone called from the back of the room.
Abel could feel the growing anger in the room and he could see it on the faces of the men. He bent towards the man seated nearest him and whispered,
‘Hey, mister, what’s going on?’
The man turned and gave him a look of disbelief.
‘Kid, you don’t know? The Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor. You take a good look at that date there.’ Here he nodded to a calendar on the wall. ‘Remember that date, son. That was the date America went to war.’
It was Sunday, 7th December 1941.
You are reading Jaws Fanfiction: Captain Quint Shark Hunter on novelgates.com. To read more Jaws Fanfiction or Movies Fanfiction please check the tags bellow chapter list.
The original author of this fanfiction is Daisy Wicker
- 13. Chapter 13 Odds Against May 19, 2020
- 12. Chapter 12 The Challenge May 19, 2020
- 11. Chapter 11 Herbie Robinson May 19, 2020
- 10. Chapter 10 Request Denied May 19, 2020
- 9. Chapter 9 From Sea To Shining Sea May 19, 2020
- 8. Chapter 8 Boot Camp May 19, 2020
- 7. Chapter 7 Grand Central May 19, 2020
- 6. Chapter 6 The March of Time May 19, 2020
- 5. Chapter 5 Arise Americans May 19, 2020
- 4. Chapter 4 Nighthawks May 19, 2020
- 3. Chapter 3 The Prophet May 19, 2020
- 2. Chapter 2 Leaving Home May 19, 2020