Dr. Hausknecht's tuna hung above the dock for nearly 48 hours. It wasn't very pretty to see by this time. The sun baked it. Tourists gaped at it. The skin became stiff and the carcass, when poked, had no more give than a fully inflated football. Finally the tuna was taken down. A man cut off the tail and the head behind the pectoral fins to send to Al Pflueger in Florida for mounting. The remainder would be taken to a dump and buried. It smelled very bad now, but still, it didn't seem a proper ending for such a fish. A couple of days earlier Dr. Hausknecht had watched people bringing in small tuna and leaving them to rot on the dock. "It seems to me that only potential record breakers should be brought in," he had said. "I know that if you fight a fish to exhaustion it may die, even if you release it. Still, I'd rather leave it where it belongs, in the ocean, where it can do some good."
So one thing was sure. If there is any basis to the law of averages, even if Dr. Hausknecht fishes for tuna the rest of his life, he will never take another one ashore.