ÏÐÎÅÊÒ                  ÎÁÙÈÉ ÒÅÊÑÒ TEXTSHARE            http://textshare.da.ru http://textshare.tsx.org      textshare@aport.ru      Õîòèòå ïîëó÷àòü ñîîáùåíèÿ î ïîÿâëåíèè íîâûõ òåêñòîâ?      Ïîäïèøèòåñü íà ïî÷òîâóþ ðàññûëêó ïî àäðåñó http://podpiska.da.ru                  ERNEST HEMINGWAY            THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA            N.Y., Charles Scribner'S Sons, 1952      Â êâàäðàòíûõ ñêîáêàõ [] íîìåð ñòðàíèöû.      Íîìåð ñòðàíèöû ïðåäøåñòâóåò ñòðàíèöå.                  [9]            He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy's parents had told him that the o The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its [10] reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishles Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.      "Santiago," the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. "I could go with you again. We've made some money."      The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.      "No," the old man said. "You're with a lucky boat. Stay with them."      "But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks."      "I remember," the old man said. "I know you did not leave me because you doubted."      "It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him."      "I know," the old man said. "It is quite normal."      "He hasn't much faith."      [11] "No." the old man said. "But we have. Haven't we?"      "Yes," the boy said. "Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we'll take the stuff home."      "Why not?" the old man said. "Between fishermen." They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry. Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke polit When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the shark factory; but today there [12] was only the faint edge of the odour because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped off and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.      "Santiago," the boy said.      "Yes," the old man said He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.      "Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?"      "No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net."      "I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you, I would like to serve in some way."      "You bought me a beer," the old man said. "You are already a man."      "How old was I when you first took me in a boat?"      "Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to pieces. Can you remember'?"      "I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like c [13] "Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?"      "I remember everything from when we first went together."      The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.      "If you were my boy I'd take you out and gamble," he said. "But you are your father's and your mother's and you are in a lucky boat."      "May I get the sardines? I know where I can get four baits too."      "I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box."      "Let me get four fresh ones."      "One," the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone. But now they were freshening as when the breeze rises.      "Two," the boy said.      "Two," the old man agreed. "You didn't steal them?"      "I would," the boy said. "But I bought these."      "Thank you," the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But he [14] knew he had attained it and he knew it was not thsgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride.      "Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current," he said.      "Where are you going?" the boy asked.      "Far out to come in when the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light."      "I'll try to get him to work far out," the boy said. "Then if you hook something truly big we can come to your aid."      "He does not like to work too far out."      "No," the boy said. "But I will see something that he cannot see such as a bird working and get him to come out after dolphin."      "Are his eyes that bad?"      "He is almost blind."      "It is strange," the old man said. "He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes."      "But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are good."      "I am a strange old man."      "But are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?"      "I think so. And there are many tricks."      [15] "Let us take the stuff home," the boy said. "So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines."      They picked up the gear from the boat. The old man carried the mast on his shoulder and the boy carried the wooden box. with the coiled, hard-braided brown lines, the gaff and the harpoon with its shaft. The box with the baits was under the stem of th They walked up the road together to the old man's shack and went in through its open door. The old man leaned the mast with its wrapped sail against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one [16] guano there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another of the Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to s "What do you have to eat?" the boy asked.      "A pot of yellow rice with fish. Do you want some?"      "No. I will eat at home. Do you want me to make the fire?"      "No. I will make it later on. Or I may eat the rice cold."      "May I take the cast net?"      "Of course."      There was no cast net and the boy remembered when they had sold it. But they went through this fiction every day. There was no pot of yellow rice and fish and the boy knew this too.      "Eighty-five is a lucky number," the old man said. "How would you like to see me bring one in that dressed out over a thousand pounds?"      "I'll get the cast net and go for sardines. Will you sit in the sun in the doorway?"      [17] "Yes. I have yesterday's paper and I will read the baseball."      The boy did not know whether yesterday's paper was a fiction too. But the old man brought it out from under the bed.      "Perico gave it to me at the bodega," he explained.      "I'll be back when I have the sardines. I'll keep yours and mine together on ice and we can share them in the morning. When I come back you can tell me about the baseball."      "The Yankees cannot lose."      "But I fear the Indians of Cleveland."      "Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio."      "I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland."      "Be careful or you will fear even the Reds of Cincinnati and the White Sox of Chicago."      "You study it and tell me when I come back."      "Do you think we should buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five? Tomorrow is the eighty-fifth day."      "We can do that," the boy said. "But what about the eighty-seven of your great record?"      [18] "It could not happen twice Do you think you can find an eighty-five?'' "I can order one."      "One sheet. That's two dollars and a half. Who can we borrow that from?"      "That's easy I can always borrow two dollars and a half."      "I think perhaps I can too. But I try not to borrow First you borrow. Then you beg."      "Keep warm old man," the boy said. "Remember we are in September."      "The month when the great fish come," the old man said. "Anyone can be a fisherman in May."      "I go now for the sardines," the boy said.      When the boy came back the old man was asleep in the chair and the sun was down. The boy took the old army blanket off the bed and spread it over the back of the chair and over the old man's shoulders They were strange shoulders, still powerful althou [19] old man's head was very old though and with his eyes closed there was no life in his face. The newspaper lay across his knees and the weight of his arm held it there in the evening breeze He was barefooted.      The boy left him there and when he came back the old man was still asleep.      "Wake up old man," the boy said and put his hand on one of the old man's knees.      The old man opened his eyes and for a moment he was coming back from a long way away. Then he smiled.      "What have you got?" he asked.      "Supper," said the boy. "We're going to have supper."      "I'm not very hungry."      "Come on and eat You can't fish and not eat."      "I have," the old man said getting up and taking the newspaper and folding it. Then he started to fold the blanket.      "Keep the blanket around you," the boy said. "You'll not fish without eating while I'm alive."      "Then live a long time and take care of yourself," the old man said. "What are we eating?"      "Black beans and rice, fried bananas, and some stew."      [20] The boy had brought them in a two-decker metal container from the Terrace. The two sets of knives and forks and spoons were in his pocket with a paper napkin wrapped around each set.      "Who gave this to you?"      "Martin. The owner."      "I must thank him."      "I thanked him already," the boy said. "You don't need to thank him."      "I'll give him the belly meat of a big fish," the old man said. "Has he done this for us more than once?"      "I think so."      "I must give him something more than the belly meat then. He is very thoughtful for us."      "He sent two beers."      "I like the beer in cans best."      "I know. But this is in bottles, Hatuey beer, and I take back the bottles."      "That's very kind of you," the old man said. "Should we eat?"      "I've been asking you to," the boy told him gently. "I have not wished to open the container until you were ready."      [21] "I'm ready now," the old man said. "I only needed time to wash."      Where did you wash? the boy thought. The village water supply was two streets down the road. I must have water here for him, the boy thought, and soap and a good towel. Why am I so thoughtless? I must get him another shirt and a jacket for the winter "Your stew is excellent," the old man said.      "Tell me about the baseball," the boy asked him.      "In the American League it is the Yankees as I said," the old man said happily.      "They lost today," the boy told him.      "That means nothing. The great DiMaggio is himself again."      "They have other men on the team."      "Naturally. But he makes the difference. In the other league, between Brooklyn and Philadelphia I must take Brooklyn. But then I think of Dick Sister and those great drives in the old park."      "There was nothing ever like them. He hits the longest ball I have ever seen."      "Do you remember when he used to come to the Ter[22] race? I wanted to take him fishing but I was too timid to ask him. Then I asked you to ask him and you were too timid."      "I know. It was a great mistake. He might have gone with us. Then we would have that for all of our lives."      "I would like to take the great DiMaggio fishing," the old man said. "They say his father was a fisherman. Maybe he was as poor as we are and would understand."      "The great Sisler's father was never poor and he, the father, was playing in the Big Leagues when he was my age.      "When I was your age I was before the mast on a square rigged ship that ran to Africa and I have seen lions on the beaches in the evening."      "I know. You told me."      "Should we talk about Africa or about baseball?"      "Baseball I think," the boy said. "Tell me about the great John J. McGraw." He said Jota for J.      "He used to come to the Terrace sometimes too in the older days. But he was rough and harsh-spoken and difficult when he was drinking. His mind was on horses as well as baseball. At least he carried lists of [23] horses at all times in his pocket and frequently spoke the names of horses on the telephone."      "He was a great manager," the boy said. "My father thinks he was the greatest."      "Because he came here the most times," the old man said. "If Durocher had continued to come here each year your father would think him the greatest manager."      "Who is the greatest manager, really, Luque or Mike Gonzalez?"      "I think they are equal."      "And the best fisherman is you."      "No. I know others better."      "Que va," the boy said. "There are many good fishermen and some great ones. But there is only you."      "Thank you. You make me happy. I hope no fish will come along so great that he will prove us wrong."      "There is no such fish if you are still strong as you say.      "I may not be as strong as I think," the old man said. "But I know many tricks and I have resolution."      "You ought to go to bed now so that you will be fresh in the morning. I will take the things back to the Terrace.      [24] "Good night then. I will wake you in the morning."      "You're my alarm clock," the boy said.      "Age is my alarm clock," the old man said. "Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?"      "I don't know," the boy said. "All I know is that young boys sleep late and hard."      "I can remember it," the old man said. "I'll waken you in time."      "I do not like for him to waken me. It is as though I were inferior."      "I know."      "Sleep well old man."      The boy went out. They had eaten with no light on the table and the old man took off his trousers and went to bed in the dark. He rolled his trousers up to make a pillow, putting the newspaper inside them. He rolled himself in the blanket and slept on He was asleep in a short time and he dreamed of Africa when he was a boy and the long golden beaches and the white beaches, so white they hurt your eyes, and the high capes and the great brown mountains. He lived along that coast now every night and i [25] come riding through it. He smelled the tar and oakum of the deck as he slept and he smelled the smell of Africa that the land breeze brought at morning.      Usually when he smelled the land breeze he woke up and dressed to go and wake the boy. But tonight the smell of the land breeze came very early and he knew it was too early in his dream and went on dreaming to see the white peaks of the Islands rising He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and The door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and he opened it and walked in quietly with his [26] bare feet. The boy was asleep on a cot in the first room and the old man could see him clearly with the light that came in from the dying moon. He took hold of one foot gently and held it until the boy woke and turned and looked at him. The old man nodded The old man went out the door and the boy came after him. He was sleepy and the old man put his arm across his shoulders and said, "I am sorry."      "Que va," the boy said. "It is what a man must do."      They walked down the road to the old man's shack and all along the road, in the dark, barefoot men were moving, carrying the masts of their boats.      When they reached the old man's shack the boy took the rolls of line in the basket and the harpoon and gaff and the old man carried the mast with the furled sail on his shoulder.      "Do you want coffee?" the boy asked.      "We'll put the gear in the boat and then get some."      They had coffee from condensed milk cans at an early morning place that served fishermen.      "How did you sleep old man?" the boy asked. He [27] was waking up now although it was still hard for him to leave his sleep.      "Very well, Manolin," the old man said. "I feel confident today."      "So do I," the boy said. "Now I must get your sardines and mine and your fresh baits. He brings our gear himself. He never wants anyone to carry anything."      "We're different," the old man said. "I let you carry things when you were five years old."      "I know it," the boy said. "I'll be right back. Have another coffee. We have credit here."      He walked off, bare-footed on the coral rocks, to the ice house where the baits were stored.      The old man drank his coffee slowly. It was all he would have all day and he knew that he should take it. For a long time now eating had bored him and he never carried a lunch. He had a bottle of water in the bow of the skiff and that was all he neede The boy was back now with the sardines and the two baits wrapped in a newspaper and they went down the trail to the skiff, feeling the pebbled sand under their feet, and lifted the skiff and slid her into the water.      [28] "Good luck old man."      "Good luck," the old man said. He fitted the rope lashings of the oars onto the thole pins and, leaning forward against the thrust of the blades in the water, he began to row out of the harbour in the dark. There were other boats from the other beache Sometimes someone would speak in a boat. But most of the boats were silent except for the dip of the oars. They spread apart after they were out of the mouth of the harbour and each one headed for the part of the ocean where he hoped to find fish. The [29] the deepest holes and these rose close to the surface at night where all the wandering fish fed on them.      In the dark the old man could feel the morning coming and as he rowed he heard the trembling sound as flying fish left the water and the hissing that their stiff set wings made as they soared away in the darkness. He was very fond of flying fish as th He always thought of the sea as la mar which is what people call her in Spanish when they love her. Sometimes those who love her say bad things of her but they are always said as though she were a woman. Some of the younger fishermen, those who used b [30] when the shark livers had brought much money, spoke of her as el mar which is masculine. They spoke of her as a contestant or a place or even an enemy. But the old man always thought of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favours, He was rowing steadily and it was no effort for him since he kept well within his speed and the surface of the ocean was flat except for the occasional swirls of the current. He was letting the current do a third of the work and as it started to be li I worked the deep wells for a week and did nothing, he thought. Today I'll work out where the schools of bonito and albacore are and maybe there will be a big one with them.      Before it was really light he had his baits out and was drifting with the current. One bait was down forty fathoms. The second was at seventy-five and the third and fourth were down in the blue water at one [31] hundred and one hundred and twenty-five fathoms. Each bait hung head down with the shank of the hook inside the bait fish, tied and sewed solid and all the projecting part of the hook, the curve and the point, was covered with fresh sardines. Each sardine The boy had given him two fresh small tunas, or albacores, which hung on the two deepest lines like plummets and, on the others, he had a big blue runner and a yellow jack that had been used before; but they were in good condition still and had the ex Now the man watched the dip of the three sticks over the side of the skiff and rowed gently to keep the [32] lines straight up and down and at their proper depths. It was quite light and any moment now the sun would rise.      The sun rose thinly from the sea and the old man could see the other boats, low on the water and well in toward the shore, spread out across the current. Then the sun was brighter and the glare came on the water and then, as it rose clear, the flat se But, he thought, I keep them with precision. Only I have no luck any more. But who knows? Maybe today. Every day is a new day. It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.      The sun was two hours higher now and it did not [33] hurt his eyes so much to look into the east. There were only three boats in sight now and they showed very low and far inshore.      All my life the early sun has hurt my eyes, he thought. Yet they are still good. In the evening I can look straight into it without getting the blackness. It has more force in the evening too. But in the morning it is painful.      Just then he saw a man-of-war bird with his long black wings circling in the sky ahead of him. He made a quick drop, slanting down on his back-swept wings, and then circled again.      "He's got something," the old man said aloud. "He's not just looking."      He rowed slowly and steadily toward where the bird was circling. He did not hurry and he kept his lines straight up and down. But he crowded the current a little so that he was still fishing correctly though faster than he would have fished if he was The bird went higher in the air and circled again, his wings motionless. Then he dove suddenly and the old man saw flying fish spurt out of the water and sail desperately over the surface.      [34] "Dolphin," the old man said aloud. "Big dolphin."      He shipped his oars and brought a small line from under the bow. It had a wire leader and a medium-sized hook and he baited it with one of the sardines. He let it go over the side and then made it fast to a ring bolt in the stern. Then he baited anoth As he watched the bird dipped again slanting his wings for the dive and then swinging them wildly and ineffectually as he followed the flying fish. The old man could see the slight bulge in the water that the big dolphin raised as they followed the es He watched the flying fish burst out again and again and the ineffectual movements of the bird. That school has gotten away from me, he thought. They are moving out too fast and too far. But perhaps I will pick up [35] a stray and perhaps my big fish is around them. My big fish must be somewhere.      The clouds over the land now rose like mountains and the coast was only a long green line with the gray blue hills behind it. The water was a dark blue now, so dark that it was almost purple. As he looked down into it he saw the red sifting of the pla [36] were coloured like the trailing filaments and swam between them and under the small shade the bubble made as it drifted. They were immune to its poison. But men were not and when some or the filaments would catch on a line and rest there slimy and purple The iridescent bubbles were beautiful. But they were the falsest thing in the sea and the old man loved to see the big sea turtles eating them. The turtles saw them, approached them from the front, then shut their eyes so they were completely carapace He loved green turtles and hawk-bills with their elegance and speed and their great value and he had a friendly contempt for the huge, stupid loggerheads, yellow in their armour-plating, strange in their love[37] making, and happily eating the Portuguese men-of-war with their eyes shut.      He had no mysticism about turtles although he had gone in turtle boats for many years. He was sorry for them all, even the great trunk backs that were as long as the skiff and weighed a ton. Most people are heartless about turtles because a turtle's h He also drank a cup of shark liver oil each day from the big drum in the shack where many of the fishermen kept their gear. It was there for all fishermen who wanted it. Most fishermen hated the taste. But it was no worse than getting up at the hours Now the old man looked up and saw that the bird was circling again.      "He's found fish," he said aloud. No flying fish broke the surface and there was no scattering of bait [38] fish. But as the old man watched, a small tuna rose in the air, turned and dropped head first into the water. The tuna shone silver in the sun and after he had dropped back into the water another and another rose and they were jumping in all directions, c If they don't travel too fast I will get into them, the old man thought, and he watched the school working the water white and the bird now dropping and dipping into the bait fish that were forced to the surface in their panic.      "The bird is a great help," the old man said. Just then the stern line came taut under his foot, where he had kept a loop of the line, and he dropped his oars and felt the weight of the small tuna's shivering pull as he held the line firm and commence [39] tail. The old man hit him on the head for kindness and kicked him, his body still shuddering, under the shade of the stern.      "Albacore," he said aloud. "He'll make a beautiful bait. He'll weigh ten pounds."      He did not remember when he had first started to talk aloud when he was by himself. He had sung when he was by himself in the old days and he had sung at night sometimes when he was alone steering on his watch in the smacks or in the turtle boats. He "If the others heard me talking out loud they would think that I am crazy," he said aloud. "But since I am not crazy, I do not care. And the rich have radios to talk to them in their boats and to bring them the baseball."      [40] Now is no time to think of baseball, he thought. Now is the time to think of only one thing. That which I was born for. There might be a big one around that school, he thought. I picked up only a straggler from the albacore that were feeding. But they He could not see the green of the shore now but only the tops of the blue hills that showed white as though they were snow-capped and the clouds that looked like high snow mountains above them. The sea was very dark and the light made prisms in the wa The tuna, the fishermen called all the fish of that species tuna and only distinguished among them by their proper names when they came to sell them or to trade them for baits, were down again. The sun was [41] hot now and the old man felt it on the back of his neck and felt the sweat trickle down his back as he rowed.      I could just drift, he thought, and sleep and put a bight of line around my toe to wake me. But today is eighty-five days and I should fish the day well.      Just then, watching his lines, he saw one of the projecting green sticks dip sharply.      "Yes," he said. "Yes," and shipped his oars without bumping the boat. He reached out for the line and held it softly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He felt no strain nor weight and he held the line lightly. Then it came again. Thi The old man held the line delicately, and softly, with his left hand, unleashed it from the stick. Now he could let it run through his fingers without the fish feeling any tension.      This far out, he must be huge in this month, he thought. Eat them, fish. Eat them. Please eat them.      [42] How fresh they are and you down there six hundred feet in that cold water in the dark. Make another turn in the dark and come back and eat them.      He felt the light delicate pulling and then a harder pull when a sardine's head must have been more difficult to break from the hook. Then there was nothing.      "Come on," the old man said aloud. "Make another turn. Just smell them. Aren't they lovely? Eat them good now and then there is the tuna. Hard and cold and lovely. Don't be shy, fish. Eat them."      He waited with the line between his thumb and his finger, watching it and the other lines at the same time for the fish might have swum up or down. Then came the same delicate pulling touch again.      "He'll take it," the old man said aloud. "God help him to take it."      He did not take it though. He was gone and the old man felt nothing.      "He can't have gone," he said. "Christ knows he can't have gone. He's making a turn. Maybe he has been hooked before and he remembers something of it."      [43] Then he felt the gentle touch on the line and he was happy.      "It was only his turn," he said. "He'll take it."      He was happy feeling the gentle pulling and then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy. It was the weight of the fish and he let the line slip down, down, down, unrolling off the first of the two reserve coils. As it went down, slipping lightl "What a fish," he said. "He has it sideways in his mouth now and he is moving off with it."      Then he will turn and swallow it, he thought. He did not say that because he knew that if you said a good thing it might not happen. He knew what a huge fish this was and he thought of him moving away in the darkness with the tuna held crosswise in hi [44] "He's taken it," he said. "Now I'll let him eat it well."      He let the line slip through his fingers while he reached down with his left hand and made fast the free end of the two reserve coils to the loop of the two reserve coils of the next line. Now he was ready. He had three forty-fathom coils of line in r "Eat it a little more," he said. "Eat it well."      Eat it so that the point of the hook goes into your heart and kills you, he thought. Come up easy and let me put the harpoon into you. All right. Are you ready? Have you been long enough at table?      "Now!" he said aloud and struck hard with both hands, gained a yard of line and then struck again and again, swinging with each arm alternately on the cord with all the strength of his arms and the pivoted weight of his body.      Nothing happened. The fish just moved away slowly and the old man could not raise him an inch. His line was strong and made for heavy fish and he held it against his back until it was so taut that beads of water were jumping from it. Then it began to [45] himself against the thwart and leaning back against the pull. The boat began to move slowly off toward the north-west.      The fish moved steadily and they travelled slowly on the calm water. The other baits were still in the water but there was nothing to be done.      "I wish I had the boy," the old man said aloud. "I'm being towed by a fish and I'm the towing bitt. I could make the line fast. But then he could break it. I must hold him all I can and give him line when he must have it. Thank God he is travelling an What I will do if he decides to go down, I don't know. What I'll do if he sounds and dies I don't know. But I'll do something. There are plenty of things I can do.      He held the line against his back and watched its slant in the water and the skiff moving steadily to the north-west.      This will kill him, the old man thought. He can't do this forever. But four hours later the fish was still swimming steadily out to sea, towing the skiff, and the old man was still braced solidly with the line across his back.      [46] "It was noon when I hooked him," he said. "And I have never seen him."      He had pushed his straw hat hard down on his head before he hooked the fish and it was cutting his forehead. He was thirsty too and he got down on his knees and, being careful not to jerk on the line, moved as far into the bow as he could get and reac Then he looked behind him and saw that no land was visible. That makes no difference, he thought. I can always come in on the glow from Havana. There are two more hours before the sun sets and maybe he will come up before that. If he doesn't maybe he The fish never changed his course nor his direction [47] all that night as far as the man could tell from watching the stars. It was cold after the sun went down and the old man's sweat dried cold on his back and his arms and his old legs. During the day he had taken the sack that covered the bait box and sprea I can do nothing with him and he can do nothing with me, he thought. Not as long as he keeps this up.      Once he stood up and urinated over the side of the skiff and looked at the stars and checked his course. The line showed like a phosphorescent streak in the water straight out from his shoulders. They were moving more slowly now and the glow of Havana [48] hours. I wonder how the baseball came out in the grand leagues today, he thought. It would be wonderful to do this with a radio. Then he thought, think of it always. Think of what you are doing. You must do nothing stupid.      Then he said aloud, "I wish I had the boy. To help me and to see this."      No one should be alone in their old age, he thought. But it is unavoidable. I must remember to eat the tuna before he spoils in order to keep strong. Remember, no matter how little you want to, that you must eat him in the morning. Remember, he said t During the night two porpoises came around the boat and he could hear them rolling and blowing. He could tell the difference between the blowing noise the male made and the sighing blow of the female.      "They are good," he said. "They play and make jokes and love one another. They are our brothers like the flying fish."      Then he began to pity the great fish that he had hooked. He is wonderful and strange and who knows how old he is, he thought. Never have I had such a strong fish nor one who acted so strangely. Perhaps he is too wise to jump. He could ruin me by jumpi [49] by a wild rush. But perhaps he has been hooked many times before and he knows that this is how he should make his fight. He cannot know that it is only one man against him, nor that it is an old man. But what a great fish he is and what will he bring in t He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin. The male fish always let the female fish feed first and the hooked fish, the female, made a wild, panic-stricken, despairing fight that soon exhausted her, and all the time the male had sta [50] the male fish jumped high into the air beside the boat to see where the female was and then went down deep, his lavender wings, that were his pectoral fins, spread wide and all his wide lavender stripes showing. He was beautiful, the old man remembered, a That was the saddest thing I ever saw with them, the old man thought. The boy was sad too and we begged her pardon and butchered her promptly.      "I wish the boy was here," he said aloud and settled himself against the rounded planks of the bow and felt the strength of the great fish through the line he held across his shoulders moving steadily toward whatever he had chosen.      When once, through my treachery, it had been necessary to him to make a choice, the old man thought. His choice had been to stay in the deep dark water far out beyond all snares and traps and treacheries. My choice was to go there to find him beyond a Perhaps I should not have been a fisherman, he thought. But that was the thing that I was born for. I must surely remember to eat the tuna after it gets light.      [51] Some time before daylight something took one of the baits that were behind him. He heard the stick break and the line begin to rush out over the gunwale of the skiff. In the darkness he loosened his sheath knife and taking all the strain of the fish o After it is light, he thought, I will work back to the forty-fathom bait and cut it away too and link up the reserve coils. I will have lost two hundred fathoms of good Catalan cardel and the hooks and leaders. That can be replaced. But who replaces t Aloud he said, "I wish I had the boy."      [52] But you haven't got the boy, he thought. You have only yourself and you had better work back to the last line now, in the dark or not in the dark, and cut it away and hook up the two reserve coils.      So he did it. It was difficult in the dark and once the fish made a surge that pulled him down on his face and made a cut below his eye. The blood ran down his cheek a little way. But it coagulated and dried before it reached his chin and he worked hi I wonder what he made that lurch for, he thought. The wire must have slipped on the great hill of his back. Certainly his back cannot feel as badly as mine does. But he cannot pull this skiff forever, no matter how great he is. Now everything is clear "Fish," he said softly, aloud, "I'll stay with you until I am dead."      [53] He'll stay with me too, I suppose, the old man thought and he waited for it to be light. It was cold now in the time before daylight and he pushed against the wood to be warm. I can do it as long as he can, he thought. And in the first light the line "He's headed north," the old man said. The current will have set us far to the eastward, he thought. I wish he would turn with the current. That would show that he was tiring.      When the sun had risen further the old man realized that the fish was not tiring. There was only one favorable sign. The slant of the line showed he was swimming at a lesser depth. That did not necessarily mean that he would jump. But he might.      "God let him jump," the old man said. "I have enough line to handle him."      Maybe if I can increase the tension just a little it will hurt him and he will jump, he thought. Now that it is daylight let him jump so that he'll fill the sacks along his backbone with air and then he cannot go deep to die.      [54] He tried to increase the tension, but the line had been taut up to the very edge of the breaking point since he had hooked the fish and he felt the harshness as he leaned back to pull and knew he could put no more strain on it. I must not jerk it ever There was yellow weed on the line but the old man knew that only made an added drag and he was pleased. It was the yellow Gulf weed that had made so much phosphorescence in the night.      "Fish," he said, "I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends."      Let us hope so, he thought.      A small bird came toward the skiff from the north. He was a warbler and flying very low over the water. The old man could see that he was very tired.      The bird made the stern of the boat and rested there. Then he flew around the old man's head and rested on the line where he was more comfortable.      "How old are you?" the old man asked the bird. "Is this your first trip?"      [55] The bird looked at him when he spoke. He was too tired even to examine the line and he teetered on it as his delicate feet gripped it fast.      "It's steady," the old man told him. "It's too steady. You shouldn't be that tired after a windless night. What are birds coming to?"      The hawks, he thought, that come out to sea to meet them. But he said nothing of this to the bird who could not understand him anyway and who would learn about the hawks soon enough.      "Take a good rest, small bird," he said. "Then go in and take your chance like any man or bird or fish."      It encouraged him to talk because his back had stiffened in the night and it hurt truly now.      "Stay at my house if you like, bird," he said. "I am sorry I cannot hoist the sail and take you in with the small breeze that is rising. But I am with a friend."      Just then the fish gave a sudden lurch that pulled the old man down onto the bow and would have pulled him overboard if he had not braced himself and given some line.      The bird had flown up when the line jerked and the old man had not even seen him go. He felt the line [56] carefully with his right hand and noticed his hand was bleeding.      "Something hurt him then," he said aloud and pulled back on the line to see if he could turn the fish. But when he was touching the breaking point he held steady and settled back against the strain of the line.      "You're feeling it now, fish," he said. "And so, God knows, am I."      He looked around for the bird now because he would have liked him for company. The bird was gone.      You did not stay long, the man thought. But it is rougher where you are going until you make the shore. How did I let the fish cut me with that one quick pull he made? I must be getting very stupid. Or perhaps I was looking at the small bird and think "I wish the boy were here and that I had some salt," he said aloud.      Shifting the weight of the line to his left shoulder and kneeling carefully he washed his hand in the ocean and held it there, submerged, for more than a [57] minute watching the blood trail away and the steady movement of the water against his hand as the boat moved.      "He has slowed much," he said.      The old man would have liked to keep his hand in the salt water longer but he was afraid of another sudden lurch by the fish and he stood up and braced himself and held his hand up against the sun. It was only a line burn that had cut his flesh. But i "Now," he said, when his hand had dried, "I must eat the small tuna. I can reach him with the gaff and eat him here in comfort."      He knelt down and found the tuna under the stern with the gaff and drew it toward him keeping it clear of the coiled lines. Holding the line with his left shoulder again, and bracing on his left hand and arm, he took the tuna off the gaff hook and put [58] them from next to the back bone down to the edge of the belly. When he had cut six strips he spread them out on the wood of the bow, wiped his knife on his trousers, and lifted the carcass of the bonito by the tail and dropped it overboard.      "I don't think I can eat an entire one," he said and drew his knife across one of the strips. He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped. It drew up tight on the heavy cord and he looked at it in disgust.      "What kind of a hand is that," he said. "Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good."      Come on, he thought and looked down into the dark water at the slant of the line. Eat it now and it will strengthen the hand. It is not the hand's fault and you have been many hours with the fish. But you can stay with him forever. Eat the bonito now.      He picked up a piece and put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly. It was not unpleasant.      Chew it well, he thought, and get all the juices. It would not be bad to eat with a little lime or with lemon or with salt.      "How do you feel, hand?" he asked the cramped [59] hand that was almost as stiff as rigor mortis. "I'll eat some more for you."      He ate the other part of the piece that he had cut in two. He chewed it carefully and then spat out the skin. "How does it go, hand? Or is it too early to know?" He took another full piece and chewed it. "It is a strong full-blooded fish," he thought.      There is no sense in being anything but practical though, he thought. I wish I had some salt. And I do not know whether the sun will rot or dry what is left, so I had better eat it all although I am not hungry. The fish is calm and steady. I will eat "Be patient, hand," he said. "I do this for you." I wish I could feed the fish, he thought. He is my brother. But I must kill him and keep strong to do it. Slowly and conscientiously he ate all of the wedge-shaped strips of fish.      He straightened up, wiping his hand on his trousers. "Now," he said. "You can let the cord go, hand, and I will handle him with the right arm alone until you [60] stop that nonsense." He put his left foot on the heavy line that the left hand had held and lay hack against the pull against his hack.      "God help me to have the cramp go," he said. "Because I do not know what the fish is going to do."      But he seems calm, he thought, and following his plan. But what is his plan, he thought. And what is mine? Mine I must improvise to his because of his great size. If he will jump I can kill him. But he stays down forever. Then I will stay down with hi He rubbed the cramped hand against his trousers and tried to gentle the fingers. But it would not open. Maybe it will open with the sun, he thought. Maybe it will open when the strong raw tuna is digested. If I have to have it, I will open it, cost wh He looked across the sea and knew how alone he was now. But he could see the prisms in the deep dark water and the line stretching ahead and the strange undulation of the calm. The clouds were building up now for the trade wind and he looked ahead and [61] flight of wild ducks etching themselves against the sky over the water, then blurring, then etching again and he knew no man was ever alone on the sea.      He thought of how some men feared being out of sight of land in a small boat and knew they were right in the months of sudden bad weather. But now they were in hurricane months and, when there are no hurricanes, the weather of hurricane months is the If there is a hurricane you always see the signs of it in the sky for days ahead, if you are at sea. They do not see it ashore because they do not know what to look for, he thought. The land must make a difference too, in the shape of the clouds. But He looked at the sky and saw the white cumulus built like friendly piles of ice cream and high above were the thin feathers of the cirrus against the high September sky.      "Light brisa," he said. "Better weather for me than for you, fish."      His left hand was still cramped, but he was unknot-ting it slowly.      I hate a cramp, he thought. It is a treachery of one's [62] own body. It is humiliating before others to have a diarrhoea from ptomaine poisoning or to vomit from it. But a cramp, he thought of it as a calambre, humiliates oneself especially when one is alone.      If the hoy were here he could rub it for me and loosen it down from the forearm, he thought. But it will loosen up.      Then, with his right hand he felt the difference in the pull of the line before he saw the slant change in the water. Then, as he leaned against the line and slapped his left hand hard and fast against his thigh he saw the line slanting slowly upward.      "He's coming up," he said. "Come on hand. Please come on.      The line rose slowly and steadily and then the surface of the ocean bulged ahead of the boat and the fish came out. He came out unendingly and water poured from his sides. He was bright in the sun and his head and back were dark purple and in the sun [63] man saw the great scythe-blade of his tail go under and the line commenced to race out.      "He is two feet longer than the skiff," the old man said. The line was going out fast but steadily and the fish was not panicked. The old man was trying with both hands to keep the line just inside of breaking strength. He knew that if he could not sl He is a great fish and I must convince him, he thought. I must never let him learn his strength nor what he could do if he made his run. If I were him I would put in everything now and go until something broke. But, thank God, they are not as intellig The old man had seen many great fish. He had seen many that weighed more than a thousand pounds and he had caught two of that size in his life, but never alone. Now alone, and out of sight of land, he was fast to the biggest fish that he had ever seen [64] It will uncramp though, he thought. Surely it will uncramp to help my right hand. There are three things that are brothers: the fish and my two hands. It must uncramp. It is unworthy of it to be cramped. The fish had slowed again and was going at his I wonder why he jumped, the old man thought. He jumped almost as though to show me how big he was. I know now, anyway, he thought. I wish I could show him what sort of man I am. But then he would see the cramped hand. Let him think I am more man than He settled comfortably against the wood and took his suffering as it came and the fish swam steadily and the boat moved slowly through the dark water. There was a small sea rising with the wind coming up from the east and at noon the old man's left ha "Bad news for you, fish," he said and shifted the line over the sacks that covered his shoulders.      He was comfortable but suffering, although he did not admit the suffering at all.      "I am not religious," he said. "But I will say ten Our [65] Fathers and ten Hail Marys that I should catch this fish, and I promise to make a pilgrimage to the Virgin of Cobre if I catch him. That is a promise."      He commenced to say his prayers mechanically. Sometimes he would be so tired that he could not remember the prayer and then he would say them fast so that they would come automatically. Hail Marys are easier to say than Our Fathers, he thought.      "Hail Mary full of Grace the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen." Then he added, "Blessed Virgin, pray for t With his prayers said, and feeling much better, but suffering exactly as much, and perhaps a little more, he leaned against the wood of the bow and began, mechanically, to work the fingers of his left hand.      The sun was hot now although the breeze was rising gently.      "I had better re-bait that little line out over the stern," he said. "If the fish decides to stay another night I will need to eat again and the water is low in the bottle. I don't think I can get anything but a dol[66] phin here. But if I eat him fresh enough he won't be bad. I wish a flying fish would come on board tonight. But I have no light to attract them. A flying fish is excellent to eat raw and I would not have to cut him up. I must save all my strength now. Chr "I'll kill him though," he said. "In all his greatness and his glory."      Although it is unjust, he thought. But I will show him what a man can do and what a man endures.      "I told the boy I was a strange old man," he said. "Now is when I must prove it."      The thousand times that he had proved it meant nothing. Now he was proving it again. Each time was a new time and he never thought about the past when he was doing it.      I wish he'd sleep and I could sleep and dream about the lions, he thought. Why are the lions the main thing that is left? Don't think, old man, he said to himself. Rest gently now against the wood and think of nothing. He is working. Work as little as It was getting into the afternoon and the boat still moved slowly and steadily. But there was an added drag now from the easterly breeze and the old man [67] rode gently with the small sea and the hurt of the cord across his back came to him easily and smoothly.      Once in the afternoon the line started to rise again. But the fish only continued to swim at a slightly higher level. The sun was on the old man's left arm and shoulder and on his back. So he knew the fish had turned east of north.      Now that he had seen him once, he could picture the fish swimming in the water with his purple pectoral fins set wide as wings and the great erect tail slicing through the dark. I wonder how much he sees at that depth, the old man thought. His eye is The sun and his steady movement of his fingers had uncramped his left hand now completely and he began to shift more of the strain to it and he shrugged the muscles of his back to shift the hurt of the cord a little.      "If you're not tired, fish," he said aloud, "you must be very strange."      He felt very tired now and he knew the night would come soon and he tried to think of other things. He thought of the Big Leagues, to him they were the Gran [68] Ligas, and he knew that the Yankees of New York were playing the Tigres of Detroit.      This is the second day now that I do not know the result of the juegos, he thought. But I must have confidence and I must be worthy of the great DiMaggio who does all things perfectly even with the pain of the bone spur in his heel. What is a bone spu "Unless sharks come," he said aloud. "If sharks come, God pity him and me."      Do you believe the great DiMaggio would stay with a fish as long as I will stay with this one? he thought. I am sure he would and more since he is young and strong. Also his father was a fisherman. But would the bone spur hurt him too much?      "I do not know," he said aloud. "I never had a bone spur."      As the sun set he remembered, to give himself more [69] confidence, the time in the tavern at Casablanca when he had played the hand game with the great negro from Cienfuegos who was the strongest man on the docks. They had gone one day and one night with their elbows on a chalk line on the table and their for The odds would change back and forth all night and they fed the negro rum and lighted cigarettes for him. Then the negro, after the rum, would try for a tremen[70] dous effort and once he had the old man, who was not an old man then but was Santiago El Campeon, nearly three inches off balance. But the old man had raised his hand up to dead even again. He was sure then that he had the negro, who was a fine man and a For a long time after that everyone had called him The Champion and there had been a return match in the spring. But not much money was bet and he had won it quite easily since he had broken the confidence of the negro from Cienfuegos in the first mat [71] hand for fishing. He had tried a few practice matches with his left hand. But his left hand had always been a traitor and would not do what he called on it to do and he did not trust it.      The sun will bake it out well now, he thought. It should not cramp on me again unless it gets too cold in the night. I wonder what this night will bring.      An airplane passed overhead on its course to Miami and he watched its shadow scaring up the schools of flying fish.      "With so much flying fish there should be dolphin," he said, and leaned back on the line to see if it was possible to gain any on his fish. But he could not and it stayed at the hardness and water-drop shivering that preceded breaking. The boat moved It must be very strange in an airplane, he thought. I wonder what the sea looks like from that height? They should be able to see the fish well if they do not fly too high. I would like to fly very slowly at two hundred fathoms high and see the fish f [72] pie spots and you can see all of the school as they swim. Why is it that all the fast-moving fish of the dark current have purple backs and usually purple stripes or spots? The dolphin looks green of course because he is really golden. But when he comes t Just before it was dark, as they passed a great island of Sargasso weed that heaved and swung in the light sea as though the ocean were making love with something under a yellow blanket, his small line was taken by a dolphin. He saw it first when it j [73] the hook and it pounded the bottom of the skiff with its long flat body, its tail and its head until he clubbed it across the shining golden head until it shivered and was still.      The old man unhooked the fish, re-baited the line with another sardine and tossed it over. Then he worked his way slowly back to the bow. He washed his left hand and wiped it on his trousers. Then he shifted the heavy line from his right hand to his l "He hasn't changed at all," he said. But watching the movement of the water against his hand he noted that it was perceptibly slower.      "I'll lash the two oars together across the stern and that will slow him in the night," he said. "He's good for the night and so am I."      It would be better to gut the dolphin a little later to save the blood in the meat, he thought. I can do that a little later and lash the oars to make a drag at the same time. I had better keep the fish quiet now and not disturb him too much at sunset He let his hand dry in the air then grasped the line [74] with it and eased himself as much as he could and allowed himself to be pulled forward against the wood so that the boat took the strain as much, or more, than he did.      I'm learning how to do it, he thought. This part of it anyway. Then too, remember he hasn't eaten since he took the bait and he is huge and needs much food. I have eaten the whole bonito. Tomorrow I will eat the dolphin. He called it dorado. Perhaps I "How do you feel, fish?" he asked aloud. "I feel good and my left hand is better and I have food for a night and a day. Pull the boat, fish."      He did not truly feel good because the pain from the cord across his back had almost passed pain and gone into a dullness that he mistrusted. But I have had worse things than that, he thought. My hand is only cut a little and the cramp is gone from th It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September. He lay against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could. The first stars [75] were out. He did not know the name of Rigel but he saw it and knew soon they would all be out and he would have all his distant friends. "~ "The fish is my friend too," he said aloud. "I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am g Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky, he thought.      Then he was sorry for the great fish that had nothing to eat and his determination to kill him never relaxed in his sorrow for him. How many people will he feed, he thought. But are they worthy to eat him? No, of course not. There is no one worthy of I do not understand these things, he thought. But it is good that we do not have to try to kill the sun or the moon or the stars. It is enough to live on the sea and kill our true brothers.      Now, he thought, I must think about the drag. It has its perils and its merits. I may lose so much line that I will lose him, if he makes his effort and the drag [76] made by the oars is in place and the boat loses all her lightness. Her lightness prolongs both our suffering but it is my safety since he has great speed that he has never yet employed. No matter what passes I must gut the dolphin so he does not spoil and Now I will rest an hour more and feel that he is solid and steady before I move back to the stern to do the work and make the decision. In the meantime I can see how he acts and if he shows any changes. The oars are a good trick; but it has reached th He rested for what he believed to be two hours. The moon did not rise now until late and he had no way of judging the time. Nor was he really resting except comparatively. He was still bearing the pull of the fish across his shoulders but he placed hi [77] gunwale of the bow and confided more and more of the resistance to the fish to the skiff itself.      How simple it would be if I could make the line fast, he thought. But with one small lurch he could break it. I must cushion the pull of the line with my body and at all times be ready to give line with both hands.      "But you have not slept yet, old man," he said aloud. "It is half a day and a night and now another day and you have not slept. You must devise a way so that you sleep a little if he is quiet and steady. If you do not sleep you might become unclear in I'm clear enough in the head, he thought. Too clear. I am as clear as the stars that are my brothers. Still I must sleep. They sleep and the moon and the sun sleep and even the ocean sleeps sometimes on certain days when there is no current and a flat But remember to sleep, he thought. Make yourself do it and devise some simple and sure way about the lines. Now go back and prepare the dolphin. It is too dangerous to rig the oars as a drag if you must sleep.      I could go without sleeping, he told himself. But it would be too dangerous.      [78] He started to work his way back to the stem on his hands and knees, being careful not to jerk against the fish. He may be half asleep himself, he thought. But I do not want him to rest. He must pull until he dies.      Back in the stem he turned so that his left hand held the strain of the line across his shoulders and drew his knife from its sheath with his right hand. The stars were bright now and he saw the dolphin clearly and he pushed the blade of his knife int [79] He slid the carcass overboard and looked to see if there was any swirl in the water. But there was only the light of its slow descent. He turned then and placed the two flying fish inside the two fillets of fish and putting his knife back in its sheat Back in the bow he laid the two fillets of fish out on the wood with the flying fish beside them. After that he settled the line across his shoulders in a new place and held it again with his left hand resting on the gunwale. Then he leaned over the s "He is tiring or he is resting," the old man said. "Now let me get through the eating of this dolphin and get some rest and a little sleep."      Under the stars and with the night colder all the [80] time he ate half of one of the dolphin fillets and one of the flying fish, gutted and with its head cut off.      "What an excellent fish dolphin is to eat cooked," he said. "And what a miserable fish raw. I will never go in a boat again without salt or limes."      If I had brains I would have splashed water on the bow all day and drying, it would have made salt, he thought. But then I did not hook the dolphin until almost sunset. Still it was a lack of preparation. But I have chewed it all well and I am not nau The sky was clouding over to the east and one after another the stars he knew were gone. It looked now as though he were moving into a great canyon of clouds and the wind had dropped.      "There will be bad weather in three or four days," he said. "But not tonight and not tomorrow. Rig now to get some sleep, old man, while the fish is calm and steady."      He held the line tight in his right hand and then pushed his thigh against his right hand as he leaned all his weight against the wood of the bow. Then he passed the line a little lower on his shoulders and braced his left hand on it.      My right hand can hold it as long as it is braced, he [81] thought. If it relaxes in sleep my left hand will wake me as the line goes out. It is hard on the right hand. But he is used to punishment. Even if I sleep twenty minutes or a half an hour it is good. He lay forward cramping himself against the line with He did not dream of the lions but instead of a vast school of porpoises that stretched for eight or ten miles and it was in the time of their mating and they would leap high into the air and return into the same hole they had made in the water when th Then he dreamed that he was in the village on his bed and there was a norther and he was very cold and his right arm was asleep because his head had rested on it instead of a pillow.      After that he began to dream of the long yellow beach and he saw the first of the lions come down onto it in the early dark and then the other lions came and he rested his chin on the wood of the bows where the ship lay anchored with the evening off-s The moon had been up for a long time but he slept [82] on and the fish pulled on steadily and the boat moved into the tunnel of clouds.      He woke with the jerk of his right fist coming up against his face and the line burning out through his right hand. He had no feeling of his left hand but he braked all he could with his right and the line rushed out. Finally his left hand found the l This is what we waited for, he thought. So now let us take it.      Make him pay for the line, he thought. Make him pay for it.      He could not see the fish's jumps but only heard the [83] breaking of the ocean and the heavy splash as he fell. The speed of the line was cutting his hands badly but he had always known this would happen and he tried to keep the cutting across the calloused parts and not let the line slip into the palm nor cut If the boy was here he would wet the coils of line, he thought. Yes. If the boy were here. If the boy were here.      The line went out and out and out but it was slowing now and he was making the fish earn each inch of it. Now he got his head up from the wood and out of the slice of fish that his cheek had crushed. Then he was on his knees and then he rose slowly to Yes, he thought. And now he has jumped more than a dozen times and filled the sacks along his back with air and he cannot go down deep to die where I cannot bring him up. He will start circling soon and then I must work on him. I wonder what started h [84] perate, or was he frightened by something in the night? Maybe he suddenly felt fear. But he was such a calm, strong fish and he seemed so fearless and so confident. It is strange.      "You better be fearless and confident yourself, old man," he said. "You're holding him again but you cannot get line. But soon he has to circle."      The old man held him with his left hand and his shoulders now and stooped down and scooped up water in his right hand to get the crushed dolphin flesh off of his face. He was afraid that it might nauseate him and he would vomit and lose his strength.      After he judged that his right hand had been in the water long enough he took it out and looked at it.      "It is not bad," he said. "And pain does not matter to a man."      He took hold of the line carefully so that it did not fit into any of the fresh line cuts and shifted his weight [85] so that he could put his left hand into the sea on the other side of the skiff.      "You did not do so badly for something worthless," he said to his left hand. "But there was a moment when I could not find you."      Why was I not born with two good hands? he thought. Perhaps it was my fault in not training that one properly. But God knows he has had enough chances to learn. He did not do so badly in the night, though, and he has only cramped once. If he cramps ag When he thought that he knew that he was not being clear-headed and he thought he should chew some more of the dolphin. But I can't, he told himself. It is better to be light-headed than to lose your strength from nausea. And I know I cannot keep it i It was there, cleaned and ready, and he picked it up with his left hand and ate it chewing the bones carefully and eating all of it down to the tail.      It has more nourishment than almost any fish, he [86] thought. At least the kind of strength that I need. Now I have done what I can, he thought. Let him begin to circle and let the fight come.      The sun was rising for the third time since he had put to sea when the fish started to circle.      He could not see by the slant of the line that the fish was circling. It was too early for that. He just felt a faint slackening of the pressure of the line and be commenced to pull on it gently with his right hand. It tightened, as always, but just w "It is a very big circle," he said. "But he is circling."      Then the line would not come in any more and he held it until he saw the drops jumping from it in the sun. Then it started out and the old man knelt down and let it go grudgingly back into the dark water.      "He is making the far part of his circle now," he said. I must hold all I can, he thought. The strain will [87] shorten his circle each time. Perhaps in an hour I will see him. Now I must convince him and then I must kill him.      But the fish kept on circling slowly and the old man was wet with sweat and tired deep into his bones two hours later. But the circles were much shorter now and from the way the line slanted he could tell the fish had risen steadily while he swam.      For an hour the old man had been seeing black spots before his eyes and the sweat salted his eyes and salted the cut over his eye and on his forehead. He was not afraid of the black spots. They were normal at the tension that he was pulling on the lin "I could not fail myself and die on a fish like this," he said. "Now that I have him coming so beautifully, God help me endure. I'll say a hundred Our Fathers and a hundred Hail Marys. But I cannot say them now."      Consider them said, he thought. I'll say them later.      Just then he felt a sudden banging and jerking on the line he held with his two hands. It was sharp and hard-feeling and heavy.      He is hitting the wire leader with his spear, he [88] thought. That was bound to come. He had to do that. It may make him jump though and I would rather he stayed circling now. The jumps were necessary for him to take air. But after that each one can widen the opening of the hook wound and he can throw the h "Don't jump, fish," he said. "Don't jump."      The fish hit the wire several times more and each time he shook his head the old man gave up a little line.      I must hold his pain where it is, he thought. Mine does not matter. I can control mine. But his pain could drive him mad.      After a while the fish stopped beating at the wire and started circling slowly again. The old man was gaining line steadily now. But he felt faint again. He lifted some sea water with his left hand and put it on his head. Then he put more on and rubbe "I have no cramps," he said. "He'll be up soon and I can last. You have to last. Don't even speak of it."      He kneeled against the bow and, for a moment, slipped the line over his back again. I'll rest now while he goes out on the circle and then stand up and work on him when he comes in, he decided.      [89] It was a great temptation to rest in the bow and let the fish make one circle by himself without recovering any line. But when the strain showed the fish had turned to come toward the boat, the old man rose to his feet and started the pivoting and the I'm tireder than I have ever been, he thought, and now the trade wind is rising. But that will be good to take him in with. I need that badly.      "I'll rest on the next turn as he goes out," he said. "I feel much better. Then in two or three turns more I will have him."      His straw hat was far on the back of his head and he sank down into the bow with the pull of the line as he felt the fish turn.      You work now, fish, he thought. I'll take you at the turn.      The sea had risen considerably. But it was a fair-weather breeze and he had to have it to get home.      "I'll just steer south and west," he said. "A man is never lost at sea and it is a long island."      It was on the third turn that he saw the fish first.      He saw him first as a dark shadow that took so long [90] to pass under the boat that he could not believe its length.      "No," he said. "He can't be that big."      But he was that big and at the end of this circle he came to the surface only thirty yards away and the man saw his tail out of water. It was higher than a big scythe blade and a very pale lavender above the dark blue water. It raked back and as the f On this circle the old man could see the fish's eye and the two gray sucking fish that swam around him. Sometimes they attached themselves to him. Sometimes they darted off. Sometimes they would swim easily in his shadow. They were each over three fee The old man was sweating now but from something else besides the sun. On each calm placid turn the fish made he was gaining line and he was sure that in two turns more he would have a chance to get the harpoon in.      [91] But I must get him close, close, close, he thought. I mustn't try for the head. I must get the heart.      "Be calm and strong, old man," he said.      On the next circle the fish's back was out but he was a little too far from the boat. On the next circle he was still too far away but he was higher out of water and the old man was sure that by gaining some more line he could have him alongside.      He had rigged his harpoon long before and its coil of light rope was in a round basket and the end was made fast to the bitt in the bow.      The fish was coming in on his circle now calm and beautiful looking and only his great tail moving. The old man pulled on him all that he could to bring him closer. For just a moment the fish turned a little on his side. Then he straightened himself a "I moved him," the old man said. "I moved him then."      He felt faint again now but he held on the great fish all the strain that he could. I moved him, he thought. Maybe this time I can get him over. Pull, hands, he thought. Hold up, legs. Last for me, head. Last for me. You never went. This time I'll pul [92] But when he put all of his effort on, starting it well out before the fish came alongside and pulling with all his strength, the fish pulled part way over and then righted himself and swam away.      "Fish," the old man said. "Fish, you are going to have to die anyway. Do you have to kill me too?"      That way nothing is accomplished, he thought. His mouth was too dry to speak hut he could not reach for the water now. I must get him alongside this time, he thought. I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are, he told himself. You're good for eve On the next turn, he nearly had him. But again the fish righted himself and swam slowly away.      You are killing me, fish, the old man thought. But you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you, brother. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who.      Now you are getting confused in the head, he thought. You must keep your head clear. Keep your head clear and know how to suffer like a man. Or a fish, he thought.      "Clear up, head," he said in a voice he could hardly hear. "Clear up."      [93] Twice more it was the same on the turns.      I do not know, the old man thought. He had been on the point of feeling himself go each time. I do not know. But I will try it once more.      He tried it once more and he felt himself going when he turned the fish. The fish righted himself and swam off again slowly with the great tail weaving in the air.      I'll try it again, the old man promised, although his hands were mushy now and he could only see well in flashes.      He tried it again and it was the same. So he thought, and he felt himself going before he started; I will try it once again.      He took all his pain and what was left of his strength and his long gone pride and he put it against the fish's agony and the fish came over onto his side and swam gently on his side, his bill almost touching the planking of the skiff and started to p The old man dropped the line and put his foot on it and lifted the harpoon as high as he could and drove it down with all his strength, and more strength he had [94] just summoned, into the fish's side just behind the great chest fin that rose high in the air to the altitude of the man's chest. He felt the iron go in and he leaned on it and drove it further and then pushed all his weight after it.      Then the fish came alive, with his death in him, and rose high out of the water showing all his great length and width and all his power and his beauty. He seemed to hang in the air above the old man in the skiff. Then he fell into the water with a cr The old man felt faint and sick and he could not see well. But he cleared the harpoon line and let it run slowly through his raw hands and, when he could see, he saw the fish was on his back with his silver belly up. The shaft of the harpoon was proje The old man looked carefully in the glimpse of vision that he had. Then he took two turns of the har[95] poon line around the bitt in the bow and laid his head on his hands.      "Keep my head clear," he said against the wood of the bow. "I am a tired old man. But I have killed this fish which is my brother and now I must do the slave work."      Now I must prepare the nooses and the rope to lash him alongside, he thought. Even if we were two and swamped her to load him and bailed her out, this skiff would never hold him. I must prepare everything, then bring him in and lash him well and step He started to pull the fish in to have him alongside so that he could pass a line through his gills and out his mouth and make his head fast alongside the bow. I want to see him, he thought, and to touch and to feel him. He is my fortune, he thought.      "Get to work, old man," he said. He took a very [96] small drink of the water. "There is very much slave work to be done now that the fight is over."      He looked up at the sky and then out to his fish. He looked at the sun carefully. It is not much more than noon, he thought. And the trade wind is rising. The lines all mean nothing now. The boy and I will splice them when we are home.      "Come on, fish," he said. But the fish did not come. Instead he lay there wallowing now in the seas and the old man pulled the skiff up-onto him.      When he was even with him and had the fish's head against the bow he could not believe his size. But he untied the harpoon rope from the bitt, passed it through the fish's gills and out his jaws, made a turn around his sword then passed the rope throu [97] "It was the only way to kill him," the old man said. He was feeling better since the water and he knew he would not go away and his head was clear. He's over fifteen hundred pounds the way he is, he thought. Maybe much more. If he dresses out two-thir "I need a pencil for that," he said. "My head is not that clear. But I think the great DiMaggio would be proud of me today. I had no bone spurs. But the hands and the back hurt truly." I wonder what a bone spur is, he thought. Maybe we have them witho He made the fish fast to bow and stern and to the middle thwart. He was so big it was like lashing a much bigger skiff alongside. He cut a piece of line and tied the fish's lower jaw against his bill so his mouth would not open and they would sail as He did not need a compass to tell him where south-west was. He only needed the feel of the trade wind and the drawing of the sail. I better put a small line [98] out with a spoon on it and try and get something to eat and drink for the moisture. But he could not find a spoon and his sardines were rotten. So he hooked a patch of yellow Gulf weed with the gaff as they passed and shook it so that the small shrimps th The old man still had two drinks of water in the bottle and he used half of one after he had eaten the shrimps. The skiff was sailing well considering the handicaps and he steered with the tiller under his arm. He could see the fish and he had only to [99] Then he could not see well, although now he saw as well as ever.      Now he knew there was the fish and his hands and back were no dream. The hands cure quickly, he thought. I bled them clean and the salt water will heal them. The dark water of the true gulf is the greatest healer that there is. All I must do is keep t They sailed well and the old man soaked his hands in the salt water and tried to keep his head clear. There were high cumulus clouds and enough cirrus above them so that the old man knew the breeze would last all night. The old man looked at the fish [100] to make sure it was true. It was an hour before the first shark hit him.      The shark was not an accident. He had come up from deep down in the water as the dark cloud of blood had settled and dispersed in the mile deep sea. He had come up so fast and absolutely without caution that he broke the surface of the blue water and Sometimes he lost the scent. But he would pick it up again, or have just a trace of it, and he swam fast and hard on the course. He was a very big Mako shark built to swim as fast as the fastest fish in the sea and everything about him was beautiful e [101] fingers when they are crisped like claws. They were nearly as long as the fingers of the old man and they had razor-sharp cutting edges on both sides. This was a fish built to feed on all the fishes in the sea, that were so fast and strong and well armed When the old man saw him coming he knew that this was a shark that had no fear at all and would do exactly what he wished. He prepared the harpoon and made the rope fast while he watched the shark come on. The rope was short as it lacked what he had c The old man's head was clear and good now and he was full of resolution but he had little hope. It was too good to last, he thought. He took one look at the great fish as he watched the shark close in. It might as well have been a dream, he thought. I The shark closed fast astern and when he hit the fish the old man saw his mouth open and his strange eyes and the clicking chop of the teeth as he drove forward in the meat just above the tail. The shark's head [102] was out of water and his back was coming out and the old man could hear the noise of skin and flesh ripping on the big fish when he rammed the harpoon down onto the shark's head at a spot where the line between his eyes intersected with the line that ran The shark swung over and the old man saw his eye was not alive and then he swung over once again, wrapping himself in two loops of the rope. The old man knew that he was dead but .the shark would not accept it. Then, on his back, with his tail lashing [103] "He took about forty pounds," the old man said aloud. He took my harpoon too and all the rope, he thought, and now my fish bleeds again and there will be others.      He did not like to look at the fish anymore since he had been mutilated. When the fish had been hit it was as though he himself were hit.      But I killed the shark that hit my fish, he thought. And he was the biggest dentuso that I have ever seen. And God knows that I have seen big ones.      It was too good to last, he thought. I wish it had been a dream now and that I had never hooked the fish and was alone in bed on the newspapers.      "But man is not made for defeat," he said. "A man can be destroyed but not defeated." I am sorry that I killed the fish though, he thought. Now the bad time is coming and I do not even have the harpoon. The dentuso is cruel and able and strong and int "Don't think, old man," he said aloud. "Sail on this course and take it when it comes."      But I must think, he thought. Because it is all I have left. That and baseball. I wonder how the great [104] DiMaggio would have liked the way I hit him in the brain? It was no great thing, he thought. Any man could do it. But do you think my hands were as great a handicap as the bone spurs? I cannot know. I never had anything wrong with my heel except the time "Think about something cheerful, old man," he said. "Every minute now you are closer to home. You sail lighter for the loss of forty pounds."      He knew quite well the pattern of what could happen when he reached the inner part of the current. But there was nothing to be done now.      "Yes there is," he said aloud. "I can lash my knife to the butt of one of the oars."      So he did that with the tiller under his arm and the sheet of the sail under his foot.      "Now," he said. "I am still an old man. But I am not unarmed."      The breeze was fresh now and he sailed on well. He watched only the forward part of the fish and some of his hope returned.      It is silly not to hope, he thought. Besides I believe [105] it is a sin. Do not think about sin, he thought. There are enough problems now without sin. Also I have no understanding of it.      I have no understanding of it and I am not sure that I believe in it. Perhaps it was a sin to kill the fish. I suppose it was even though I did it to keep me alive and feed many people. But then everything is a sin. Do not think about sin. It is much But he liked to think about all things that he was involved in and since there was nothing to read and he did not have a radio, he thought much and he kept on thinking about sin. You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he th "You think too much, old man," he said aloud.      But you enjoyed killing the dentuso, he thought. He lives on the live fish as you do. He is not a scavenger [106] nor just a moving appetite as some sharks are. He is beautiful and noble and knows no fear of anything.      "I killed him in self-defense," the old man said aloud. "And I killed him well."      Besides, he thought, everything kills everything else in some way. Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The hoy keeps me alive, he thought. I must not deceive myself too much.      He leaned over the side and pulled loose a piece of the meat of the fish where the shark had cut him. He chewed it and noted its quality and its good taste. It was firm and juicy, like meat, but it was not red. There was no stringiness in it and he kn The breeze was steady. It had backed a little further into the north-east and he knew that meant that it would not fall off. The old man looked ahead of him but he could see no sails nor could he see the hull nor the smoke of any ship. There were only [107] He had sailed for two hours, resting in the stern and sometimes chewing a bit of the meat from the marlin, trying to rest and to be strong, when he saw the first of the two sharks.      "Ay," he said aloud. There is no translation for this word and perhaps it is just a noise such as a man might make, involuntarily, feeling the nail go through his hands and into the wood.      "Galanos," he said aloud. He had seen the second fin now coming up behind the first and had identified them as shovel-nosed sharks by the brown, triangular fin and the sweeping movements of the tail. They had the scent and were excited and in the stup The old man made the sheet fast and jammed the tiller. Then he took up the oar with the knife lashed to it. He lifted it as lightly as he could because his hands rebelled at the pain. Then he opened and closed them on it lightly to loosen them. He clo [108] bad smelling, scavengers as well as killers, and when they were hungry they would bite at an oar or the rudder of a boat. It was these sharks that would cut the turtles' legs and flippers off when the turtles were asleep on the surface, and they would hit "Ay," the old man said. "Galanos. Come on galanos."      They came. But they did not come as the Mako had come. One turned and went out of sight under the skiff and the old man could feel the skiff shake as he jerked and pulled on the fish. The other watched the old man with his slitted yellow eyes and then The skiff was still shaking with the destruction the other shark was doing to the fish and the old man let [109] go the sheet so that the skiff would swing broadside and bring the shark out from under. When he saw the shark he leaned over the side and punched at him. He hit only meat and the hide was set hard and he barely got the knife in. The blow hurt not only hi "No?" the old man said and he drove the blade between the vertebrae and the brain. It was an easy shot now and he felt the cartilage sever. The old man reversed the oar and put the blade between the shark's jaws to open them. He twisted the blade and The old man wiped the blade of his knife and laid down the oar. Then he found the sheet and the sail filled and he brought the skiff onto her course.      [110] "They must have taken a quarter of him and of the best meat," he said aloud. "I wish it were a dream and that I had never hooked him. I'm sorry about it, fish. It makes everything wrong." He stopped and he did not want to look at the fish now. Drained "I shouldn't have gone out so far, fish," he said. "Neither for you nor for me. I'm sorry, fish."      Now, he said to himself. Look to the lashing on the knife and see if it has been cut. Then get your hand in order because there still is more to come.      "I wish I had a stone for the knife," the old man said after he had checked the lashing on the oar butt. "I should have brought a stone." You should have brought many things, he thought. But you did not bring them, old man. Now is no time to think of "You give me much good counsel," he said aloud. "I'm tired of it.      He held the tiller under his arm and soaked both his hands in the water as the skiff drove forward.      "God knows how much that last one took," he said.      [111] "But she's much lighter now." He did not want to think of the mutilated under-side of the fish. He knew that each of the jerking bumps of the shark had been meat torn away and that the fish now made a trail for all sharks as wide as a highway through He was a fish to keep a man all winter, he thought. Don't think of that. Just rest and try to get your hands in shape to defend what is left of him. The blood smell from my hands means nothing now with all that scent in the water. Besides they do not What can I think of now? he thought. Nothing. I must think of nothing and wait for the next ones. I wish it had really been a dream, he thought. But who knows? It might have turned out well.      The next shark that came was a single shovelnose. He came like a pig to the trough if a pig had a mouth so wide that you could put your head in it. The old man let him hit the fish and then drove the knife on the oar down into his brain. But the shark The old man settled himself to steer. He did not even watch the big shark sinking slowly in the water, [112] showing first life-size, then small, then tiny. That always fascinated the old man. But he did not even watch it now.      "I have the gaff now," he said. "But it will do no good. I have the two oars and the tiller and the short club."      Now they have beaten me, he thought. I am too old to club sharks to death. But I will try it as long as I have the oars and the short club and the tiller.      He put his hands in the water again to soak them. It was getting late in the afternoon and he saw nothing but the sea and the sky. There was more wind in the sky than there had been, and soon he hoped that he would see land.      "You're tired, old man," he said. "You're tired inside."      The sharks did not hit him again until just before sunset.      The old man saw the brown fins coming along the wide trail the fish must make in the water. They were not even quartering on the scent. They were headed straight for the skiff swimming side by side.      He jammed the tiller, made the sheet fast and reached under the stern for the club. It was an oar han[113] dle from a broken oar sawed off to about two and a half feet in length. He could only use it effectively with one hand because of the grip of the handle and he took good hold of it with his right hand, flexing his hand on it, as he watched the sharks come I must let the first one get a good hold and hit him on the point of the nose or straight across the top of the head, he thought.      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 s The other shark had been in and out and now came in again with his jaws wide. The old man could see pieces of the meat of the fish spilling white from the corner of his jaws as he bumped the fish and closed his jaws. He swung at him and hit only the h [114] old man swung the club down on him again as he slipped away to swallow and hit only the heavy solid rubberiness.      "Come on, galano," the old man said. "Come in again."      The shark came in a rush and the old man hit him as he shut his jaws. He hit him solidly and from as high up as he could raise the club. This time he felt the bone at the base of the brain and he hit him again in the same place while the shark tore th The old man watched for him to come again but neither shark showed. Then he saw one on the surface swimming in circles. He did not see the fin of the other.      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.      He did not want to look at the fish. He knew that half of him had been destroyed. The sun had gone down while he had been in the fight with the sharks.      "It will be dark soon," he said. "Then I should see [115] the glow of Havana.. If I am too far to the eastward I will see the lights of one of the new beaches."      I cannot be too far out now, he thought. I hope no one has been too worried. There is only the boy to worry, of course. But I am sure he would have confidence. Many of the older fishermen will worry. Many others too, he thought. I live in a good town.      He could not talk to the fish anymore because the fish had been ruined too badly. Then something came into his head.      "Half fish," he said. "Fish that you were. I am sorry that I went too far out. I ruined us both. But we have killed many sharks, you and I, and ruined many others. How many did you ever kill, old fish? You do not have that spear on your head for nothi He liked to think of the fish and what he could do to a shark if he were swimming free. I should have chopped the bill off to fight them with, he thought. But there was no hatchet and then there was no knife.      But if I had, and could have lashed it to an oar butt, what a weapon. Then we might have fought them together. What will you do now if they come in the night? What can you do?      "Fight them," he said. "I'll fight them until I die."      [116] 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 I have all those prayers I promised if I caught the fish, he thought. But I am too tired to say them now. I better get the sack and put it over my shoulders.      He lay in the stern and steered and watched for the glow to come in the sky. I have half of him, he thought. Maybe I'll have the luck to bring the forward half in. I should have some luck. No, he said. You violated your luck when you went too far outs "Don't be silly," he said aloud. "And keep awake and steer. You may have much luck yet.      "I'd like to buy some if there's any place they sell it," he said.      What could I buy it with? he asked himself. Could I buy it with a lost harpoon and a broken knife and two bad hands?      "You might," he said. "You tried to buy it with [117] eighty-four days at sea. They nearly sold it to you too."      I must not think nonsense, he thought. Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her? I would take some though in any form and pay what they asked. I wish I could see the glow from the lights, he thought. I wish too many things. B He saw the reflected glare of the lights of the city at what must have been around ten o'clock at night. They were only perceptible at first as the light is in the sky before the moon rises. Then they were steady to see across the ocean which was roug Now it is over, he thought. They will probably hit me again. But what can a man do against them in the dark without a weapon?      He was stiff and sore now and his wounds and all of the strained parts of his body hurt with the cold of the night. I hope I do not have to fight again, he thought. I hope so much I do not have to fight again.      [118] But by midnight he fought and this time he knew the fight was useless. They came in a pack and he could only see the lines in the water that their fins made and their phosphorescence as they threw themselves on the fish. He clubbed at heads and heard 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 One came, finally, against the head itself and he knew that it was over. He swung the tiller across the shark's head where the jaws were caught in the heaviness of the fish's head which would not tear. He swung it once and twice and again. He heard th [119] last shark of the pack that came. There was nothing more for them to eat.      The old man could hardly breathe now and he felt a strange taste in his mouth. It was coppery and sweet and he was afraid of it for a moment. But there was not much of it.      He spat into the ocean and said, "Eat that, galanos. r And make a dream you've killed a man."      He knew he was beaten now finally and without remedy and he went back to the stern and found the jagged end of the tiller would fit in the slot of the rudder well enough for him to steer. He settled the sack around his shoulders and put the skiff on h [120] She's good, he thought. She is sound and not harmed in any way except for the tiller. That is easily replaced.      He could feel he was inside the current now and he could see the lights of the beach colonies along the shore. He knew where he was now and it was nothing to get home.      The wind is our friend, anyway, he thought. Then he added, sometimes. And the great sea with our friends and our enemies. And bed, he thought. Bed is my friend. Just bed, he thought. Bed will be a great thing. It is easy when you are beaten, he though "Nothing," he said aloud. "I went out too far."      When he sailed into the little harbour the lights of the Terrace were out and he knew everyone was in bed. The breeze had risen steadily and was blowing strongly now. It was quiet in the harbour though and he sailed up onto the little patch of shingle [121] He unstepped the mast and furled the sail and tied it. Then he shouldered the mast and started to climb. It was then he knew the depth of his tiredness. He stopped for a moment and looked back and saw in the reflection from the street light the great He started to climb again and at the top he fell and lay for some time with the mast across his shoulder. He tried to get up. But it was too difficult and he sat there with the mast on his shoulder and looked at the road. A cat passed on the far side Finally he put the mast down and stood up. He picked the mast up and put it on his shoulder and started up the road. He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.      Inside the shack he leaned the mast against the wall. In the dark he found a water bottle and took a drink. Then he lay down on the bed. He pulled the blanket [122] over his shoulders and then over his back and legs and he slept face down on the newspapers with his arms out straight and the palms of his hands up.      He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning. It was blowing so hard that the drifting-boats would not be going out and the boy had slept late and then come to the old man's shack as he had come each morning. The boy saw that the old m Many fishermen were around the skiff looking at what was lashed beside it and one was in the water, his trousers rolled up, measuring the skeleton with a length of line.      The boy did not go down. He had been there before and one of the fishermen was looking after the skiff for him.      "How is he?" one of the fishermen shouted.      "Sleeping," the boy called. He did not care that they saw him crying. "Let no one disturb him."      "He was eighteen feet from nose to tail," the fisherman who was measuring him called.      [123] "I believe it," the boy said.      He went into the Terrace and asked for a can of coffee.      "Hot and with plenty of milk and sugar in it."      "Anything more?"      "No. Afterwards I will see what he can eat."      "What a fish it was," the proprietor said. "There has never been such a fish. Those were two fine fish you took yesterday too."      "Damn my fish," the boy said and he started to cry again.      "Do you want a drink of any kind?" the proprietor asked.      "No," the boy said. "Tell them not to bother Santiago. I'll be back."      "Tell him how sorry I am."      "Thanks," the boy said.      The boy carried the hot can of coffee up to the old man's shack and sat by him until he woke. Once it looked as though he were waking. But he had gone back into heavy sleep and the boy had gone across the road to borrow some wood to heat the coffee.      Finally the old man woke.      [124] "Don't sit up," the boy said. "Drink this." He poured some of the coffee in a glass. The old man took it and drank it. "They beat me, Manolin," he said. "They truly beat me.      "He didn't beat you. Not the fish."      "No. Truly. It was afterwards."      "Pedrico is looking after the skiff and the gear. What do you want done with the head?"      "Let Pedrico chop it up to use in fish traps."      "And the spear?"      "You keep it if you want it."      "I want it," the boy said. "Now we must make our plans about the other things."      "Did they search for me?"      "Of course. With coast guard and with planes."      "The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see," the old man said. He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea. "I missed you," he said. "What did you catch?"      "One the first day. One the second and two the third."      [125] "Very good."      "Now we fish together again."      "No. I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore."      "The hell with luck," the boy said. "I'll bring the luck with me."      "What will your family say?"      "I do not care. I caught two yesterday. But we will fish together now for I still have much to learn."      "We must get a good killing lance and always have it on board. You can make the blade from a spring leaf from an old Ford. We can grind it in Guanabacoa. It should be sharp and not tempered so it will break. My knife broke."      "I'll get another knife and have the spring ground. How many days of heavy brisa have we?"      "Maybe three. Maybe more."      "I will have everything in order," the boy said. "You get your hands well old man."      "I know how to care for them. In the night I spat something strange and felt something in my chest was broken."      "Get that well too," the boy said. "Lie down, old man, and I will bring you your clean shirt. And something to eat."      [126] "Bring any of the papers of the time that I was gone" the old man said.      "You must get well fast for there is much that I can learn and you can teach me everything. How much did you suffer?"      "Plenty," the old man said.      "I'll bring the food and the papers," the boy said. "Rest well, old man. I will bring stuff from the drugstore for your hands."      "Don't forget to tell Pedrico the head is his."      "No. I will remember."      As the boy went out the door and down the worn coral rock road he was crying again.      That afternoon there was a party of tourists at the Terrace and looking down in the water among the empty beer cans and dead barracudas a woman saw a great long white spine with a huge tail at the end that lifted and swung with the tide while the east "What's that?" she asked a waiter and pointed to the long backbone of the great fish that was now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide.      [127] "Tiburon," the waiter said. "Eshark." He was meaning to explain what had happened.      "I didn't know sharks had such handsome, beautifully formed tails."      "I didn't either," her male companion said.      Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.