From c9978ab59e1555ba5de943ae7d2781284a4912f9 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: =?UTF-8?q?Jan=20Ko=C5=BEusznik?= <jan@kozusznik.cz> Date: Wed, 13 Oct 2021 00:35:34 +0200 Subject: [PATCH] lab07-efrei --- README.md | 0 pom.xml | 2 +- src/main/java/lab/App.java | 64 - src/main/java/lab/Book.java | 57 + src/main/java/module-info.java | 2 +- src/main/resources/lab/application.css | 1 - src/main/resources/lab/book.txt | 2833 ++++++++++++++++++++++++ 7 files changed, 2892 insertions(+), 67 deletions(-) mode change 100644 => 100755 README.md delete mode 100644 src/main/java/lab/App.java create mode 100644 src/main/java/lab/Book.java delete mode 100644 src/main/resources/lab/application.css create mode 100644 src/main/resources/lab/book.txt diff --git a/README.md b/README.md old mode 100644 new mode 100755 diff --git a/pom.xml b/pom.xml index a346419..36e59a0 100644 --- a/pom.xml +++ b/pom.xml @@ -3,7 +3,7 @@ xsi:schemaLocation="http://maven.apache.org/POM/4.0.0 http://maven.apache.org/maven-v4_0_0.xsd"> <modelVersion>4.0.0</modelVersion> <groupId>vsb-cs-java1</groupId> - <artifactId>lab01</artifactId> + <artifactId>lab07-efrei</artifactId> <version>0.0.1-SNAPHOST</version> <packaging>jar</packaging> <properties> diff --git a/src/main/java/lab/App.java b/src/main/java/lab/App.java deleted file mode 100644 index a978898..0000000 --- a/src/main/java/lab/App.java +++ /dev/null @@ -1,64 +0,0 @@ -package lab; - -import javafx.application.Application; -import javafx.application.Platform; -import javafx.scene.Group; -import javafx.scene.Scene; -import javafx.scene.canvas.Canvas; -import javafx.scene.canvas.GraphicsContext; -import javafx.stage.Stage; -import javafx.stage.WindowEvent; - -/** - * Class <b>App</b> - extends class Application and it is an entry point of the program - * @author Java I - */ -public class App extends Application { - - public static void main(String[] args) { - launch(args); - } - - private Canvas canvas; - - @Override - public void start(Stage primaryStage) { - try { - //Construct a main window with a canvas. - Group root = new Group(); - canvas = new Canvas(800, 400); - root.getChildren().add(canvas); - Scene scene = new Scene(root, 800, 400); - scene.getStylesheets().add(getClass().getResource("application.css").toExternalForm()); - primaryStage.setScene(scene); - primaryStage.resizableProperty().set(false); - primaryStage.setTitle("Java 1 - 1th laboratory"); - primaryStage.show(); - - //Exit program when main window is closed - primaryStage.setOnCloseRequest(this::exitProgram); - - //Draw scene on a separate thread to avoid blocking UI. - Platform.runLater(this::drawScene); - } catch (Exception e) { - e.printStackTrace(); - } - } - - /** - * Draws objects into the canvas. Put you code here. - * - *@return nothing - */ - private void drawScene() { - //graphic context is used for a painting - GraphicsContext gc = canvas.getGraphicsContext2D(); - // put your code here - // gc.setFill(Color.AQUA); - // gc.setStroke(Color.BLACK); - } - - private void exitProgram(WindowEvent evt) { - System.exit(0); - } -} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/main/java/lab/Book.java b/src/main/java/lab/Book.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ab0dba --- /dev/null +++ b/src/main/java/lab/Book.java @@ -0,0 +1,57 @@ +/******************************************************************************* + * Kožusznik Jan + * Copyright (c) 2014 All Right Reserved, http://www.kozusznik.cz + * + * This file is subject to the terms and conditions defined in + * file 'LICENSE.txt', which is part of this source code package. + ******************************************************************************/ + +package lab; + +import java.io.BufferedReader; +import java.io.IOException; +import java.io.InputStreamReader; +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.Arrays; +import java.util.Collection; + +/** + * @author Jan Kožusznik + * @version 0.1 + */ +public class Book { + private final String data; + + /** + * + */ + public Book() { + data = getText(); + } + + public Collection<String> getWords() { + String[] tokens = getText().split("[\\- \t\n.,;:()\\[\\]{}\"]+"); + return new ArrayList<>(Arrays.asList(tokens)); + } + + @Override + public String toString() { + return data; + } + + private String getText() { + StringBuilder sb = new StringBuilder(); + try(BufferedReader br = new BufferedReader(new InputStreamReader(Book.class.getResourceAsStream("book.txt")))) { + String line; + while((line = br.readLine()) != null) { + sb.append(line).append('\n'); + } + } catch (IOException e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + return ""; + } + + return sb.toString(); + } + +} diff --git a/src/main/java/module-info.java b/src/main/java/module-info.java index 7006c78..d6efd26 100644 --- a/src/main/java/module-info.java +++ b/src/main/java/module-info.java @@ -1,4 +1,4 @@ -module lab01 { +module lab07.efrei { requires transitive javafx.controls; requires javafx.fxml; opens lab to javafx.fxml; diff --git a/src/main/resources/lab/application.css b/src/main/resources/lab/application.css deleted file mode 100644 index 83d6f33..0000000 --- a/src/main/resources/lab/application.css +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -/* JavaFX CSS - Leave this comment until you have at least create one rule which uses -fx-Property */ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/main/resources/lab/book.txt b/src/main/resources/lab/book.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f387fe1 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/main/resources/lab/book.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2833 @@ + +THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA + +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 old man was now definitely +and finally _salao_, which is the worst form of unlucky, and the boy +had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish +the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each +day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him carry +either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was +furled around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and, +furled, it looked like the flag of permanent defeat. + +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 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 fishless desert. + +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." + +"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 politely +about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and +the steady good weather and of what they had seen. The successful +fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin +out and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men +staggering at the end of each plank, to the fish house where they +waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those +who had caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other +side of the cove where they were hoisted on a block and tackle, their +livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and +their flesh cut into strips for salting. + +When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the +shark factory; but today there 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 chopping a tree down and the +sweet blood smell all over me." + +"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 knew he had attained it and he knew it was +not disgraceful 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." + +"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 stern of the skiff along with the club +that was used to subdue the big fish when they were brought alongside. +No one would steal from the old man but it was better to take the sail +and the heavy lines home as the dew was bad for them and, though he was +quite sure no local people would steal from him, the old man thought +that a gaff and a harpoon were needless temptations to leave in a boat. + +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 room of the shack. The +shack was made of the tough bud-shields of the royal palm which are +called _guano_ and in it there was a bed, a table, one chair, and a +place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of +the flattened, overlapping leaves of the sturdy fibered _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 see it and it was on the shelf in the +corner under his clean shirt. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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 although very old, and the neck was +still strong too and the creases did not show so much when the old man +was asleep and his head fallen forward. His shirt had been patched so +many times that it was like the sail and the patches were faded to many +different shades by the sun. The 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." + +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." + +"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 and some sort of +shoes and another blanket. + +"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 Sisler 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 Terrace? 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 +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." + +"_Qué 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." + +"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 the other old newspapers +that covered the springs of the bed. + +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 in his dreams he heard the +surf roar and saw the native boats 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 from the sea and then he +dreamed of the different harbours and roadsteads of the Canary Islands. + +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 he loved them as he loved +the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke, looked out +the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on. +He urinated outside the shack and then went up the road to wake the +boy. He was shivering with the morning cold. But he knew he would +shiver himself warm and that soon he would be rowing. + +The door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and he opened it +and walked in quietly with his 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 and the boy took his trousers from the chair by the bed and, +sitting on the bed, pulled them on. + +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." + +"_Qué 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 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 needed for the day. + +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. + +"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 beaches going out to sea and the +old man heard the dip and push of their oars even though he could not +see them now the moon was below the hills. + +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 old man knew he was +going far out and he left the smell of the land behind and rowed out +into the clean early morning smell of the ocean. He saw the +phosphorescence of the Gulf weed in the water as he rowed over the part +of the ocean that the fishermen called the great well because there was +a sudden deep of seven hundred fathoms where all sorts of fish +congregated because of the swirl the current made against the steep +walls of the floor of the ocean. Here there were concentrations of +shrimp and bait fish and sometimes schools of squid in 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 they were his principal +friends on the ocean. He was sorry for the birds, especially the small +delicate dark terns that were always flying and looking and almost +never finding, and he thought, "The birds have a harder life than we do +except for the robber birds and the heavy strong ones. Why did they +make birds so delicate and fine as those sea swallows when the ocean +can be so cruel? She is kind and very beautiful. But she can be so +cruel and it comes so suddenly and such birds that fly, dipping and +hunting, with their small sad voices are made too delicately for the +sea." + +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 buoys as floats for their +lines and had motorboats, bought 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, and if she did wild or wicked things it was because she could +not help them. The moon affects her as it does a woman, he thought. + +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 light he saw he was already +further out than he had hoped to be at this hour. + +I worked the deep wells for a week and did nothing, he thought. Today +I'll work out where the schools of bonita 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 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 was hooked +through both eyes so that they made a half-garland on the projecting +steel. There was no part of the hook that a great fish could feel +which was not sweet smelling and good tasting. + +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 excellent sardines to give them +scent and attractiveness. Each line, as thick around as a big pencil, +was looped onto a green-sapped stick so that any pull or touch on the +bait would make the stick dip and each line had two forty-fathom coils +which could be made fast to the other spare coils so that, if it were +necessary, a fish could take out over three hundred fathoms of line. + +Now the man watched the dip of the three sticks over the side of the +skiff and rowed gently to keep the 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 sea sent it back at his eyes so +that it hurt sharply and he rowed without looking into it. He looked +down into the water and watched the lines that went straight down into +the dark of the water. He kept them straighter than anyone did, so +that at each level in the darkness of the stream there would be a bait +waiting exactly where he wished it to be for any fish that swam there. +Others let them drift with the current and sometimes they were at sixty +fathoms when the fishermen thought they were at a hundred. + +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 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 not trying to use the +bird. + +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. + +"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 another line and left it coiled +in the shade of the bow. He went back to rowing and to watching the +long-winged black bird who was working, now, low over the water. + +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 escaping fish. The dolphin were +cutting through the water below the flight of the fish and would be in +the water, driving at speed, when the fish dropped. It is a big school +of dolphin, he thought. They are wide spread and the flying fish have +little chance. The bird has no chance. The flying fish are too big +for him and they go too fast. + +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 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 plankton in the dark water and +the strange light the sun made now. He watched his lines to see them +go straight down out of sight into the water and he was happy to see so +much plankton because it meant fish. The strange light the sun made in +the water, now that the sun was higher, meant good weather and so did +the shape of the clouds over the land. But the bird was almost out of +sight now and nothing showed on the surface of the water but some +patches of yellow, sun-bleached Sargasso weed and the purple, +formalized, iridescent, gelatinous bladder of a Portuguese man-of-war +floating close beside the boat. It turned on its side and then righted +itself. It floated cheerfully as a bubble with its long deadly purple +filaments trailing a yard behind it in the water. + +"_Agua mala_," the man said. "You whore." + +From where he swung lightly against his oars he looked down into the +water and saw the tiny fish that 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 of the filaments would catch on a line and rest there +slimy and purple while the old man was working a fish, he would have +welts and sores on his arms and hands of the sort that poison ivy or +poison oak can give. But these poisonings from the _agua mala_ came +quickly and struck like a whiplash. + +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 carapaced and ate them filaments and +all. The old man loved to see the turtles eat them and he loved to +walk on them on the beach after a storm and hear them pop when he +stepped on them with the horny soles of his feet. + +He loved green turtles and hawks-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-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 heart will beat for hours +after he has been cut up and butchered. But the old man thought, I +have such a heart too and my feet and hands are like theirs. He ate +the white eggs to give himself strength. He ate them all through May +to be strong in September and October for the truly big fish. + +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 that they rose and it was +very good against all colds and grippes and it was good for the eyes. + +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 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, churning the water and leaping in long jumps after the +bait. They were circling it and driving it. + +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 commenced to haul it in. The shivering +increased as he pulled in and he could see the blue back of the fish in +the water and the gold of his sides before he swung him over the side +and into the boat. He lay in the stern in the sun, compact and bullet +shaped, his big, unintelligent eyes staring as he thumped his life out +against the planking of the boat with the quick shivering strokes of +his neat, fast-moving 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 had probably started to talk +aloud, when alone, when the boy had left. But he did not remember. +When he and the boy fished together they usually spoke only when it was +necessary. They talked at night or when they were storm-bound by bad +weather. It was considered a virtue not to talk unnecessarily at sea +and the old man had always considered it so and respected it. But now +he said his thoughts aloud many times since there was no one that they +could annoy. + +"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." + +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 are working far out and +fast. Everything that shows on the surface today travels very fast and +to the north-east. Can that be the time of day? Or is it some sign of +weather that I do not know? + +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 water. The myriad flecks of +the plankton were annulled now by the high sun and it was only the +great deep prisms in the blue water that the old man saw now with his +lines going straight down into the water that was a mile deep. + +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 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. This time it was a tentative +pull, not solid nor heavy, and he knew exactly what it was. One +hundred fathoms down a marlin was eating the sardines that covered the +point and the shank of the hook where the hand-forged hook projected +from the head of the small tuna. + +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. 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." + +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 lightly through the old man's +fingers, he still could feel the great weight, though the pressure of +his thumb and finger were almost imperceptible. + +"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 his mouth. At that moment he +felt him stop moving but the weight was still there. Then the weight +increased and he gave more line. He tightened the pressure of his +thumb and finger for a moment and the weight increased and was going +straight down. + +"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 reserve now, as well as the +coil he was using. + +"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 make a slow hissing sound +in the water and he still held it, bracing 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 and not going down." + +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. + +"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 reached the water bottle with one +hand. He opened it and drank a little. Then he rested against the +bow. He rested sitting on the un-stepped mast and sail and tried not +to think but only to endure. + +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 will come up with the +moon. If he does not do that maybe he will come up with the sunrise. +I have no cramps and I feel strong. It is he that has the hook in his +mouth. But what a fish to pull like that. He must have his mouth shut +tight on the wire. I wish I could see him. I wish I could see him +only once to know what I have against me. + +The fish never changed his course nor his direction 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 spread it in the sun to dry. After the sun +went down he tied it around his neck so that it hung down over his back +and he cautiously worked it down under the line that was across his +shoulders now. The sack cushioned the line and he had found a way of +leaning forward against the bow so that he was almost comfortable. The +position actually was only somewhat less intolerable; but he thought of +it as almost comfortable. + +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 was not so +strong, so that he knew the current must be carrying them to the +eastward. If I lose the glare of Havana we must be going more to the +eastward, he thought. For if the fish's course held true I must see it +for many more 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 to himself. + +During the night two porpoise 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 jumping or 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 he will bring in the market if the flesh is good. He took +the bait like a male and he pulls like a male and his fight has no +panic in it. I wonder if he has any plans or if he is just as +desperate as I am? + +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 stayed with her, crossing +the line and circling with her on the surface. He had stayed so close +that the old man was afraid he would cut the line with his tail which +was sharp as a scythe and almost of that size and shape. When the old +man had gaffed her and clubbed her, holding the rapier bill with its +sandpaper edge and clubbing her across the top of her head until her +colour turned to a colour almost like the backing of mirrors, and then, +with the boy's aid, hoisted her aboard, the male fish had stayed by the +side of the boat. Then, while the old man was clearing the lines and +preparing the harpoon, 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, and he had stayed. + +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 all people. Beyond all people in the world. Now we are +joined together and have been since noon. And no one to help either +one of us. + +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. + +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 on his left shoulder he +leaned back and cut the line against the wood of the gunwale. Then he +cut the other line closest to him and in the dark made the loose ends +of the reserve coils fast. He worked skillfully with the one hand and +put his foot on the coils to hold them as he drew his knots tight. Now +he had six reserve coils of line. There were two from each bait he had +severed and the two from the bait the fish had taken and they were all +connected. + +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 _cordel_ and the hooks and +leaders. That can be replaced. But who replaces this fish if I hook +some fish and it cuts him off? I don't know what that fish was that +took the bait just now. It could have been a marlin or a broadbill or +a shark. I never felt him. I had to get rid of him too fast. + +Aloud he said, "I wish I had the boy." + +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 his way back to the bow and +rested against the wood. He adjusted the sack and carefully worked the +line so that it came across a new part of his shoulders and, holding it +anchored with his shoulders, he carefully felt the pull of the fish and +then felt with his hand the progress of the skiff through the water. + +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 cleared away that might make +trouble and I have a big reserve of line; all that a man can ask. + +"Fish," he said softly, aloud, "I'll stay with you until I am dead." + +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 extended out and down into +the water. The boat moved steadily and when the first edge of the sun +rose it was on the old man's right shoulder. + +"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. + +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, he thought. Each jerk +widens the cut the hook makes and then when he does jump he might throw +it. Anyway I feel better with the sun and for once I do not have to +look into it. + +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?" + +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 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 thinking of him. Now I +will pay attention to my work and then I must eat the tuna so that I +will not have a failure of strength. + +"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 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 it was in the working part of +his hand. He knew he would need his hands before this was over and he +did not like to be cut before it started. + +"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 the gaff back in place. He put +one knee on the fish and cut strips of dark red meat longitudinally +from the back of the head to the tail. They were wedge-shaped strips +and he cut 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 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. "I was lucky to get +him instead of dolphin. Dolphin is too sweet. This is hardly sweet at +all and all the strength is still in it." + +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 it all and then I will be +ready. + +"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 stop that nonsense." He put his +left foot on the heavy line that the left hand had held and lay back +against the pull against his back. + +"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 him forever. + +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 whatever it costs. But I do +not want to open it now by force. Let it open by itself and come back +of its own accord. After all I abused it much in the night when it was +necessary to free and unite the various lines. + +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 saw a 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 best of all the year. + +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 we have no hurricane +coming now. + +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 unknotting it slowly. + +I hate a cramp, he thought. It is a treachery of one's 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 boy 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 the stripes on his sides +showed wide and a light lavender. His sword was as long as a baseball +bat and tapered like a rapier and he rose his full length from the +water and then re-entered it, smoothly, like a diver and the old 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 slow the fish with a steady +pressure the fish could take out all the line and break it. + +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 intelligent as we who kill them; +although they are more noble and more able. + +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 and bigger than he had +ever heard of, and his left hand was still as tight as the gripped +claws of an eagle. + +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 usual pace. + +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 I am and I will be so. +I wish I was the fish, he thought, with everything he has against only +my will and my intelligence. + +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 hand was uncramped. + +"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 Fathers and ten +Hail Marys that I should catch this fish, and I promise to make a +pilgrimage to the Virgen de 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 the death of this fish. +Wonderful though he is." + +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 +dolphin 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. Christ, I did +not know he was so big." + +"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 you can. + +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 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 huge and a horse, with much +less eye, can see in the dark. Once I could see quite well in the +dark. Not in the absolute dark. But almost as a cat sees. + +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 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 spur? he asked himself. +_Un espuela de hueso_. We do not have them. Can it be as painful as +the spur of a fighting cock in one's heel? I do not think I could +endure that or the loss of the eye and of both eyes and continue to +fight as the fighting cocks do. Man is not much beside the great birds +and beasts. Still I would rather be that beast down there in the +darkness of the sea. + +"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 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 forearms straight up and their hands gripped +tight. Each one was trying to force the other's hand down onto the +table. There was much betting and people went in and out of the room +under the kerosene lights and he had looked at the arm and hand of the +negro and at the negro's face. They changed the referees every four +hours after the first eight so that the referees could sleep. Blood +came out from under the fingernails of both his and the negro's hands +and they looked each other in the eye and at their hands and forearms +and the bettors went in and out of the room and sat on high chairs +against the wall and watched. The walls were painted bright blue and +were of wood and the lamps threw their shadows against them. The +negro's shadow was huge and it moved on the wall as the breeze moved +the lamps. + +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 tremendous 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 great athlete, beaten. And at daylight when the bettors were asking +that it be called a draw and the referee was shaking his head, he had +unleashed his effort and forced the hand of the negro down and down +until it rested on the wood. The match had started on a Sunday morning +and ended on a Monday morning. Many of the bettors had asked for a +draw because they had to go to work on the docks loading sacks of sugar +or at the Havana Coal Company. Otherwise everyone would have wanted it +to go to a finish. But he had finished it anyway and before anyone had +to go to work. + +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 match. After that he had a +few matches and then no more. He decided that he could beat anyone if +he wanted to badly enough and he decided that it was bad for his right +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 over head 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 ahead slowly and he watched the +airplane until he could no longer see it. + +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 from above. In the turtle +boats I was in the cross-trees of the mast-head and even at that height +I saw much. The dolphin look greener from there and you can see their +stripes and their purple 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 +to feed, truly hungry, purple stripes show on his sides as on a marlin. +Can it be anger, or the greater speed he makes that brings them out? + +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 jumped in the air, true gold in the +last of the sun and bending and flapping wildly in the air. It jumped +again and again in the acrobatics of its fear and he worked his way +back to the stern and crouching and holding the big line with his right +hand and arm, he pulled the dolphin in with his left hand, stepping on +the gained line each time with his bare left foot. When the fish was +at the stern, plunging and cutting from side to side in desperation, +the old man leaned over the stern and lifted the burnished gold fish +with its purple spots over the stern. Its jaws were working +convulsively in quick bites against 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, rebaited 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 left and washed his right hand in +the sea while he watched the sun go into the ocean and the slant of the +big cord. + +"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. The setting of the sun is +a difficult time for all fish. + +He let his hand dry in the air then grasped the line 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 should eat some of it +when I clean it. It will be harder to eat than the bonito. But, then, +nothing is easy. + +"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 the other. My +legs are all right. Also now I have gained on him in the question of +sustenance. + +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 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 glad we do not have +to try to kill the stars." + +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 eating him from the +manner of his behaviour and his great dignity. + +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 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 eat +some of him to be strong. + +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 the time to play for safety. +He is much fish still and I saw that the hook was in the corner of his +mouth and he has kept his mouth tight shut. The punishment of the hook +is nothing. The punishment of hunger, and that he is against something +that he does not comprehend, is everything. Rest now, old man, and let +him work until your next duty comes. + +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 his left hand on the +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 the head." + +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 calm. + +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. + +He started to work his way back to the stern 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 stern 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 into his head and drew him + +out from under the stern. He put one of his feet on the fish and slit +him quickly from the vent up to the tip of his lower jaw. Then he put +his knife down and gutted him with his right hand, scooping him clean +and pulling the gills clear. He felt the maw heavy and slippery in his +hands and he slit it open. There were two flying fish inside. They +were fresh and hard and he laid them side by side and dropped the guts +and the gills over the stern. They sank leaving a trail of +phosphorescence in the water. The dolphin was cold and a leprous +gray-white now in the starlight and the old man skinned one side of him +while he held his right foot on the fish's head. Then he turned him +over and skinned the other side and cut each side off from the head +down to the tail. + +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 sheath, he worked his way slowly +back to the bow. His back was bent with the weight of the line across +it and he carried the fish in his right hand. + +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 side and washed the flying +fish in the water, noting the speed of the water against his hand. His +hand was phosphorescent from skinning the fish and he watched the flow +of the water against it. The flow was less strong and as he rubbed the +side of his hand against the planking of the skiff, particles of +phosphorus floated off and drifted slowly astern. + +"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 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 nauseated. + +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 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 all of his body, putting all his weight +onto his right hand, and he was asleep. + +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 they leaped. + +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-shore breeze and he waited +to see if there would be more lions and he was happy. + +The moon had been up for a long time but he slept 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 line and he leaned back against +the line and now it burned his back and his left hand, and his left +hand was taking all the strain and cutting badly. He looked back at +the coils of line and they were feeding smoothly. Just then the fish +jumped making a great bursting of the ocean and then a heavy fall. +Then he jumped again and again and the boat was going fast although +line was still racing out and the old man was raising the strain to +breaking point and raising it to breaking point again and again. He +had been pulled down tight onto the bow and his face was in the cut +slice of dolphin and he could not move. + +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 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 the fingers. + +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 his feet. He was ceding +line but more slowly all the time. He worked back to where he could +feel with his foot the coils of line that he could not see. There was +plenty of line still and now the fish had to pull the friction of all +that new line through the water. + +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 him so suddenly? Could it +have been hunger that made him desperate, 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. When his face was +cleaned he washed his right hand in the water over the side and then +let it stay in the salt water while he watched the first light come +before the sunrise. He's headed almost east, he thought. That means +he is tired and going with the current. Soon he will have to circle. +Then our true work begins. + +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 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 again let the line cut him +off. + +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 if I eat it since my face was +in it. I will keep it for an emergency until it goes bad. But it is +too late to try for strength now through nourishment. You're stupid, +he told himself. Eat the other flying fish. + +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 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 he commenced to pull on it gently with his +right hand. It tightened, as always, but just when he reached the +point where it would break, line began to come in. He slipped his +shoulders and head from under the line and began to pull in line +steadily and gently. He used both of his hands in a swinging motion +and tried to do the pulling as much as he could with his body and his +legs. His old legs and shoulders pivoted with the swinging of the +pulling. + +"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 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 line. Twice, though, he had +felt faint and dizzy and that had worried him. + +"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 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 hook. + +"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 rubbed the back of his neck. + +"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. + +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 weaving pulling that brought +in all the line he gained. + +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 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 fish swam just below the +surface the old man could see his huge bulk and the purple stripes that +banded him. His dorsal fin was down and his huge pectorals were spread +wide. + +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 feet long and when they swam +fast they lashed their whole bodies like eels. + +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. + +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 and began another circle. + +"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 pull him over. + +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 but 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 ever. + +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." + +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 pass the boat, long, +deep, wide, silver and barred with purple and interminable in the water. + +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 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 crash that sent spray over +the old man and over all of the skiff. + +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 projecting at an angle from the +fish's shoulder and the sea was discolouring with the red of the blood +from his heart. First it was dark as a shoal in the blue water that +was more than a mile deep. Then it spread like a cloud. The fish was +silvery and still and floated with the waves. + +The old man looked carefully in the glimpse of vision that he had. +Then he took two turns of the harpoon 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 the mast and set sail for +home. + +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. But that is not why I wish to +feel him. I think I felt his heart, he thought. When I pushed on the +harpoon shaft the second time. Bring him in now and make him fast and +get the noose around his tail and another around his middle to bind him +to the skiff. + +"Get to work, old man," he said. He took a very 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 through the other gill, made +another turn around the bill and knotted the double rope and made it +fast to the bitt in the bow. He cut the rope then and went astern to +noose the tail. The fish had turned silver from his original purple +and silver, and the stripes showed the same pale violet colour as his +tail. They were wider than a man's hand with his fingers spread and +the fish's eye looked as detached as the mirrors in a periscope or as a +saint in a procession. + +"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-thirds of that at thirty cents +a pound? + +"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 without knowing of it. + +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 cleanly as possible. Then +he stepped the mast and, with the stick that was his gaff and with his +boom rigged, the patched sail drew, the boat began to move, and half +lying in the stern he sailed south-west. + +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 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 that were in it fell onto the planking of the skiff. There +were more than a dozen of them and they jumped and kicked like sand +fleas. The old man pinched their heads off with his thumb and +forefinger and ate them chewing up the shells and the tails. They were +very tiny but he knew they were nourishing and they tasted good. + +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 look at his hands and feel his +back against the stern to know that this had truly happened and was not +a dream. At one time when he was feeling so badly toward the end, he +had thought perhaps it was a dream. Then when he had seen the fish +come out of the water and hang motionless in the sky before he fell, he +was sure there was some great strangeness and he could not believe it. +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 the head clear. The hands +have done their work and we sail well. With his mouth shut and his +tail straight up and down we sail like brothers. Then his head started +to become a little unclear and he thought, is he bringing me in or am I +bringing him in? If I were towing him behind there would be no +question. Nor if the fish were in the skiff, with all dignity gone, +there would be no question either. But they were sailing together +lashed side by side and the old man thought, let him bring me in if it +pleases him. I am only better than him through trickery and he meant +me no harm. + +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 constantly 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 was in the sun. Then he +fell back into the sea and picked up the scent and started swimming on +the course the skiff and the fish had taken. + +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 except his jaws. + +His back was as blue as a sword fish's and his belly was silver and his +hide was smooth and handsome. He was built as a sword fish except for +his huge jaws which were tight shut now as he swam fast, just under the +surface with his high dorsal fin knifing through the water without +wavering. Inside the closed double lip of his jaws all of his eight +rows of teeth were slanted inwards. They were not the ordinary +pyramid-shaped teeth of most sharks. They were shaped like a man's +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 that they had no other +enemy. Now he speeded up as he smelled the fresher scent and his blue +dorsal fin cut the water. + +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 cut away to lash the fish. + +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 cannot keep him from hitting +me but maybe I can get him. _Dentuso_, he thought. Bad luck to your +mother. + +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 +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 straight back from his nose. +There were no such lines. There was only the heavy sharp blue head and +the big eyes and the clicking, thrusting all-swallowing jaws. But that +was the location of the brain and the old man hit it. He hit it with +his blood mushed hands driving a good harpoon with all his strength. +He hit it without hope but with resolution and complete malignancy. + +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 and his jaws clicking, the +shark plowed over the water as a speed-boat does. The water was white +where his tail beat it and three-quarters of his body was clear above +the water when the rope came taut, shivered, and then snapped. The +shark lay quietly for a little while on the surface and the old man +watched him. Then he went down very slowly. + +"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 intelligent. But I was more +intelligent that he was. Perhaps not, he thought. Perhaps I was only +better armed. + +"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 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 the sting ray stung it when I stepped on him when +swimming and paralyzed the lower leg and made the unbearable pain. + +"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 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 too late for that and there +are people who are paid to do it. Let them think about it. You were +born to be a fisherman as the fish was born to be a fish. San Pedro +was a fisherman as was the father of the great DiMaggio. + +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 thought. You killed him for +pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive +and you loved him after. It you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. +Or is it more? + +"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 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 boy 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 knew that it would bring +the highest price in the market. But there was no way to keep its +scent out of the water and the old man knew that a very bad time was +coming. + +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 the flying fish that +went up from his bow sailing away to either side and the yellow patches +of gulf-weed. He could not even see a bird. + +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 stupidity of their great hunger +they were losing and finding the scent in their excitement. But they +were closing all the time. + +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 closed them firmly so +they would take the pain now and would not flinch and watched the +sharks come. He could see their wide, flattened, shovel-pointed heads +now and their white-tipped wide pectoral fins. They were hateful +sharks, 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 a man in the +water, if they were hungry, even if the man had no smell of fish blood +nor of fish slime on him. + +"_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 came in fast with his half +circle of jaws wide to hit the fish where he had already been bitten. +The line showed clearly on the top of his brown head and back where the +brain joined the spinal cord and the old man drove the knife on the oar +into the juncture, withdrew it, and drove it in again into the shark's +yellow cat-like eyes. The shark let go of the fish and slid down, +swallowing what he had taken as he died. + +The skiff was still shaking with the destruction the other shark was +doing to the fish and the old man let 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 his hands but his shoulder too. But the shark came up +fast with his head out and the old man hit him squarely in the center +of his flat-topped head as his nose came out of water and lay against +the fish. The old man withdrew the blade and punched the shark exactly +in the same spot again. He still hung to the fish with his jaws hooked +and the old man stabbed him in his left eye. The shark still hung +there. + +"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 as the shark slid loose he +said, "Go on, _galano_. Slide down a mile deep. Go see your friend, +or maybe it's your mother." + +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. + +"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 of blood and awash he +looked the colour of the silver backing of a mirror and his stripes +still showed. + +"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 what you do not have. Think +of what you can do with what there is. + +"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. "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 the sea. + +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 bleed much. There is +nothing cut that means anything. The bleeding may keep the left from +cramping. + +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 shovel-nose. 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 jerked backwards as he +rolled and the knife blade snapped. + +The old man settled himself to steer. He did not even watch the big +shark sinking slowly in the water, 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 handle 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. They were both _galanos_. + +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 solidity as the club came +down. But he felt the rigidity of bone too and he struck the shark +once more hard across the point of the nose as he slid down from the +fish. + +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 head and the shark looked at +him and wrenched the meat loose. The 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 the meat loose sluggishly +and slid down from the fish. + +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 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 nothing." + +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." + +But in the dark now and no glow showing and no lights and only the wind +and the steady pull of the sail he felt that perhaps he was already +dead. He put his two hands together and felt the palms. They were not +dead and he could bring the pain of life by simply opening and closing +them. He leaned his back against the stern and knew he was not dead. +His shoulders told him. + +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 outside. + +"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 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. But that is the thing I +wish for now. He tried to settle more comfortably to steer and from +his pain he knew he was not dead. + +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 rough now with the increasing +breeze. He steered inside of the glow and he thought that now, soon, +he must hit the edge of the stream. + +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. + +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 the jaws chop and the shaking +of the skiff as they took hold below. He clubbed desperately at what +he could only feel and hear and he felt something seize the club and it +was gone. + +He jerked the tiller free from the rudder and beat and chopped with it, +holding it in both hands and driving it down again and again. But they +were up to the bow now and driving in one after the other and together, +tearing off the pieces of meat that showed glowing below the sea as +they turned to come once more. + +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 the tiller break and he +lunged at the shark with the splintered butt. He felt it go in and +knowing it was sharp he drove it in again. The shark let go and rolled +away. That was the 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_. 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 her course. He sailed +lightly now and he had no thoughts nor any feelings of any kind. He +was past everything now and he sailed the skiff to make his home port +as well and as intelligently as he could. In the night sharks hit the +carcass as someone might pick up crumbs from the table. The old man +paid no attention to them and did not pay any attention to anything +except steering. He only noticed how lightly and how well the skiff +sailed now there was no great weight beside her. + +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 thought. I never knew how +easy it was. And what beat you, he thought. + +"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 below the rocks. There was +no one to help him so he pulled the boat up as far as he could. Then +he stepped out and made her fast to a rock. + +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 tail of the fish +standing up well behind the skiff's stern. He saw the white naked line +of his backbone and the dark mass of the head with the projecting bill +and all the nakedness between. + +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 going about its business and +the old man watched it. Then he just watched the road. + +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 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 man was breathing and then he +saw the old man's hands and he started to cry. He went out very +quietly to go to bring some coffee and all the way down the road he was +crying. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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 drug-store 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 wind blew a heavy steady sea +outside the entrance to the harbour. + +"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. + +"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. \ No newline at end of file -- GitLab