Chapter 3 The old man and the sea (2)

The pale sun rose from the sea and the old man saw the other boats, low on the water and not far from the shore, spread out perpendicular to the direction of the current.Then the sun grew brighter, and the glare hit the water, and then the sun was fully above the horizon, and the flat sea reflected the light into his eyes, making them sting violently, so he didn't look at the sun and went to himself. rowing.He looked down into the water and watched the few lines that hung down into the deep dark water.He kept his lines straighter than anyone else so that at several different depths in the depths of the dark stream there would be a bait waiting for the fish that swam there just where he expected it to be.Other fishermen let their lines drift with the current and sometimes they thought they were at a hundred fathoms when the line was at sixty fathoms.

But, he thought, I always put them in exactly the right place.The only problem was that my luck was out of luck.But who can tell?Might be shipped today.Every day is a new day.Good luck, of course.But I prefer to be exact.That way, when luck strikes, you'll be prepared. Two hours passed, the sun was now correspondingly higher, and it did not dazzle him so much when he looked east.There were only three boats visible in front of my eyes, and they looked very low, far away on the sea near the shore. All my life the rising sun has hurt my eyes, he thought.Eyes are fine though.In the evening, I can look directly at the sun without the feeling of darkness in front of my eyes.The power of the sun is also stronger in the evening.But in the morning it hurts the eyes.

Just then, he saw a long-winged black frigate bird circling in the sky ahead of him.It swooped down with its swept-back wings, then circled again. "It caught something," said the old man aloud. "It's not just looking for it." He rowed slowly, straight toward where the bird was circling.He was in no hurry and kept the lines straight up and down.Still he was a little closer to the current so that he was still fishing the right way, although he was going faster than he would have been if he hadn't tried to use the birds as a guide. The frigate bird flew higher in the air, and then circled again, its wings not moving at all.Then it swooped down suddenly and the old man saw the flying fish leap out of the sea and swipe desperately across the surface.

"Mahi-mahi," the old man said out loud. "Great dolphin." He took the oars from the oarlocks and took a thin line from under the bow.There was a length of wire lead and a medium hook on the line and he hung on it with a sardine.He let the line out over the side and made the top end fast to a fist bolt in the stern.Then he baited the other line and coiled it in the shadow of the bow.He rowed again and watched the long-winged black bird that was flying low over the water now. As he watched, the bird swooped down again, sweeping its wings back in order to dive and spreading them wildly, tracking the flying fish but in vain.The old man saw the big dolphin rising slightly as they followed the escaped fish.The dolphin cut through the water under the skimming fish and only waited for the flying fish to drop before diving quickly into the water.What a big school of dolphin, he thought.They are so widely distributed that flying fish have little chance of escaping.That bird has no chance of success.The flying fish was too big for him and too fast.

He watched the flying fish emerge again and again from the sea, watched the bird's futile movements.The school of fish has escaped near me, he thought.They escaped too fast and swam too far.But maybe I can catch a straggler and maybe the big fish I want are swimming around them.My big fish must be somewhere. The clouds above the land now stood up like hills, leaving only a long green line on the coast, with some gray-blue hills behind it.The water was a deep blue now, so dark it was almost purple.He looked down at the sea water carefully, and saw little red plankton flashing in the deep blue water, and the sunlight changed into strange brilliance in the water at this moment.He watched the lines and saw them going all the way down into the water out of sight and he was glad to see so much plankton because it meant fish.The sun was higher now, and the strange brilliance of the light in the water told of a clear day, as did the shape of the clouds over the land.But the bird was now almost invisible, and there was nothing on the surface except a few patches of sun-whitened yellow sargassum and a man-of-war, its gelatinous sac, floating close to the side of the boat. It is purple in color, has a certain shape, and flashes like a rainbow of colors.It fell to one side, then straightened up again.It floated merrily like a great bubble, its long, fierce purple tentacles trailing a yard behind it in the water.

"Aguamala," said the old man. "You son of a bitch." He looked down into the water from where he sat gently paddling, and saw small fish the same color as those tentacles that trailed in the water, between the tentacles and the buoyant sacs. Swimming in the little pool of shadow it casts as it floats.They are unaffected by its toxins.But people are different and when the old man was bringing a fish back into the boat some of the tentacles would catch on the line and the purple slime would cling to them and he would have welts and sores on his arms and hands as if he had been caught. Same with poison sumac or poison sumac infestation.But the jellyfish's venom came on faster, and it hurt like a whip.

These big bubbles in a rainbow of colors are beautiful.But they were the most deceitful creatures in the sea, and the old man was glad to see the turtles eat them.The turtles found them, approached them from the front, closed their eyes so that they were completely protected by the turtle's back from head to tail, and ate them with their tentacles.The old man loved watching the turtles eat them, and meeting them on the beach after a storm, and hearing them pop when he stepped on them with his hard calloused feet. He liked the green turtles and hawksbill turtles, which were beautiful, fast swimmers, and very valuable, and he had a malicious contempt for the big, stupid loggerhead turtles, which had yellow carapaces and queer ways of making love. Yes, eyes closed while happily devouring man-of-war jellyfish.

He was not mystical about turtles, although he had hunted them in small boats for years.He felt sorry for all the turtles, even the giant shuttler turtles that were as long as boats and weighed a ton.People are mostly cruel to turtles because a turtle's heart beats for hours after it's been cut up and killed.But the old man thought, I have such a heart too, and my hands and feet are like theirs.He eats white turtle eggs for his strength.He ate for a whole month in May, so that he could be strong enough to catch real mermaids in September and October. He also drank a glass of shark liver oil every day from a large drum in the shed where many fishermen kept their gear.The bucket is there for any fisherman who wants to drink.Most fishermen loathe the smell of this oil.But it's no worse than getting up early in the dark, and it's very effective against all colds and flus, and good for the eyes.

The old man looked up now and saw the bird was circling again. "He has found the fish," he said aloud as not a single flying fish came out of the water and no smaller fish scurry about.But the old man watched and saw a small tuna leap into the air, turn around and fall headfirst into the water.The tuna was shining silvery white in the sun, and when it was back in the water, other tuna jumped out of the water one after the other, and they jumped in all directions, stirring up the water and jumping far to hunt the small ones. fish.They are turning around the small fish and driving the small fish away.

If they hadn't been swimming so fast I could have been among them, the old man thought, watching the fish whip the water up to white foam and the bird swooping down and diving in now. Among the small schools of fish forced to float to the surface in panic. "This bird is a great helper," said the old man.Just then the thin line in the stern came taut under his feet where he had made a circle around his feet and he lowered his oars and, holding on to the thin line, pulled back with his hands. I felt that the small tuna was pulling tremblingly, and it was a bit heavy.The line trembled the further he pulled back and he saw the blue back and golden sides of the fish in the water and he swung the line so that the fish fell over the side and overboard.The fish lay in the sunlight at the stern of the boat, with a solid body shaped like a bullet, a pair of big stupid eyes staring straight at it, and a neat and neat tail slapping the boat planks nimbly and tremblingly, gradually exhausting its strength.Out of kindness, the old man gave it a good blow on the head and kicked its still shaking body into the shade of the stern.

"Albacore," he said aloud. "Perfect for big fish. He weighs ten pounds." He couldn't remember when he first started talking to himself when he was alone.He had sung when he was by himself in the old days and sometimes at night when he was on the helm watch in the slack or the turtle boat.He probably started talking to himself when the kid left him and he was alone.But he couldn't remember.When he fished with his children, they generally only spoke when necessary.They talked at night, or, in bad weather, when they were caught at sea by a storm.There was no need not to talk at sea was considered a good rule and the old man had always thought it so and always obeyed it.But now he said what he wanted to say several times, because no one else would be disturbed by what he said. "People would think I was crazy if they heard me talking to myself," he said aloud. "But since I'm not crazy, I don't care. I'll talk anyway. Rich people have radios on ships that talk to them and tell them about the baseball game." Now's not the time to think about the baseball game, he thought.There is only one thing to think about right now.It's what I was born to do.There was probably a big one around that school, he thought.I only caught a stray tuna from a school eating small fish.But they were swimming far away, and very fast.Today, everyone who shows up on the surface of the sea swims very fast, heading northeast.Is this the right time of day?Or is this some weather sign I don't understand? He could no longer see the green streak of the coast, only the peaks of the green mountains that seemed to be covered with snow, and the clouds above the peaks that looked like towering snow mountains.The color of the sea water is extremely deep, and the sunlight turns into rainbow colors in the sea water.The countless speckled plankton are invisible because the sun has risen overhead at this moment. What the old man can see now is only the huge band of seven-color light in the depths of the blue water, and his Several lines hanging straight down in water a mile deep. Fishermen called all of them tunas, and only when they sold them or traded them for bait did they call them by their proper names.Then they sank into the sea again.The sun was very hot at the moment, and the old man felt the heat on his neck. As he paddled, he felt the sweat trickle down his back. I can go with the flow, he thought, and go to sleep and put the line around my toe beforehand to wake me if there is movement.But today is the eighty-fifth day and I should fish all day.Just then, staring at the lines, he saw one of the green rods sticking out above the water drop sharply into the water. "Coming," he said. "Come on," said the oars, without jolting the boat, from the oarlocks.He reached for the line and held it lightly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.He felt no strain or weight on the line and he held it easily.Follow it and move again.This time it was a tentative pull, neither tight nor heavy, and he knew exactly what was going on.At a hundred fathoms a great marlin was eating the sardines that encased the tip and shaft of the handmade hook that came out of the head of a small tuna. The old man held the line lightly and with his left hand gently unhooked it from the rod.He can now let it slide through his fingers without the fish feeling the slightest pull. It must be quite big for this month, he thought, so far out from shore.Eat the bait, fish.eat it.Please eat.How fresh the baits are and you, down here at six hundred feet, in this dark cold water.Make another detour in the dark, come back and eat them. He felt a weak, light pull followed by a harder pull and now one of the sardine's heads must be having difficulty pulling from the hook.Then nothing happened. "Come on," said the old man aloud. "One more detour. Smell the baits. Aren't they delicious? Eat them while they're fresh and there's the tuna back there. Firm and cool and delicious. Don't be ashamed, fish. Eat them." He held the line between his thumb and forefinger and waited.Keep an eye on him and the other lines at the same time for the fish may have swum higher or lower.Then it was so lightly pulled. "He will take the bait," said the old man aloud. "Please God help it take the bait." But it didn't take the bait.It swam away and the old man felt nothing. "It's impossible to swim away," he said. "God knows it's impossible to swim away. It's going around a bend. Maybe it's been hooked before and remembers a little bit." Then he felt a slight movement of the line and he was pleased. "It was just turning around," he said. "He'll take the bait." He was happy to feel the slight tug, and then he felt a jerk, so heavy it was unbelievable.It was the weight of the fish itself and he let go and let the line go down, down, down and pay out from one of the two reserve coils.The old man still felt its weight as it slipped lightly between his fingers, though the pressure from his thumb and forefinger was barely perceptible. "What a fish," he said. "He's holding the bait at an angle in his mouth, and he's swimming away with him." Then he will turn around and swallow the bait, he thought.He didn't say this aloud, because he knew that if a good thing was said, it might not happen.He knew how big the fish was and he pictured it moving in the dark with the tuna held horizontally in its mouth.At this moment he felt that it had stopped moving, but the weight remained the same.As the weight got heavier he let out a little more line.For a moment he increased the pressure on his thumb and forefinger and the weight on the line increased down to the depths of the water. "He took the bait," he said. "Now I'll let him have a nice meal." He let the line slide down between his fingers and at the same time with his left hand he put out his left hand and made the ends of the two reserve coils tight to the two reserve coils of the line beside him.He is ready now.He had three forty-fathom coils at hand besides the one he was using. "Eat some more," he said. "Eat well." Eat it so that the point of the hook will sink into your heart and kill you, he thought.Come up easy and happy, and let me drive the harpoon into you.Got it.are you ready?Are you eating long enough? "Here!" he said aloud and he yanked the line hard with both hands, taking in a yard and then yanking again and again, swinging his arms with all the strength of his arms and the weight of his body for support. Pull the line back alternately. Nothing works.The fish just swam away slowly and the old man could not pull him up an inch.His line was strong and made for big fish and he yanked it over his back and the line was so taut that water started beading from it. Then it gradually made a long hiss in the water, but he still held it and braced himself on the thwart, leaning his upper body to counteract the pull of the fish.The boat sailed slowly to the northwest. The big fish swam without stopping, and the fish and the boat moved slowly on the calm water.The other baits were still in the water without any movement, so there was no need to deal with them. "I wish the boy was here," the old man said aloud. "I'm being pulled along by a fish and I'm a stub for a line. I can make the line over the gunwale. But it's The fish would tear him apart. I had to hold him like hell and let him out if necessary. Thank God he's still swimming and not sinking." What should I do if it decides to sink?I have no idea.What should I do if it goes to the bottom of the ocean and dies there?I have no idea.But I must do something.There are so many things I can do. He held the line against his back and watched it bank as it slanted into the water and the skiff kept heading northwest. That will kill him, the old man thought.It can't go on like this forever.But four hours later the fish continued to swim out to sea, dragging the skiff and the old man still clutching the line that was around his back. "I caught him at noon," he said. "But I never saw it." Before he caught the fish he had pulled off the straw hat and fastened it on his head and it hurt his forehead.Still thirsty he got down on his knees and, being careful not to jerk the line, crawled as far as he could toward the bow and reached for the water bottle.He uncapped the bottle, drank a little, and rested against the bow.He sat on the mast with the sail around it, which had been pulled from the masthead, and tried not to think of anything but to bear it. When he looked back, he saw that there was no trace of the land.It's all right, he thought.I can always get back to port by the lights of Havana.There were still two hours before the sun went down and the fish would probably come up before then.If it doesn't come up, maybe it will come up with the moonrise.If it didn't, it might come up with the sun.I have no cramps in my hands or feet and I feel strong.Its mouth was caught.But with such a strong pulling force, how big a fish must be.His jaws must have been firmly in place on the wire hook.Wish I could see it.I wish I could know what my opponent is like, if only by looking at it. By looking at the stars the old man could see that the fish had not changed his course or his direction all night.After the sun went down and the weather turned cooler, the old man's back and arms and old legs were dry with sweat and chills.During the day he had taken the sacks that covered the baitboxes and spread them out in the sun to dry.As the sun went down he tied the sack around his neck so that it hung over his back and he tucked it carefully under the line that now hung over his shoulders.With the sack on the line he could bend over the bow and it was almost comfortable.This position can only be said to be more or less comfortable, but he thought it was very comfortable. I can't do anything with it, and it can't do anything with me, he thought.As long as it keeps going like this, neither side can do anything about it. He stood up once, peed over the side of the boat, then looked up at the stars to check his heading.The line went into the water from his shoulders looking like a phosphorescent glow.Fish and boat slowed down now.The lights in Havana were not too bright, and he knew that the current must be carrying them both to the east.If I can't see the blinding lights of Havana, we must be further east, he thought.For if the fish's course had not changed I would have seen the light for hours.I wonder how the big league game is going today, he thought.It's nice to have a radio in this line of work.Then he thought, always thinking about this thing.Think about what you are doing.How can you do stupid things. Then he said aloud, "I wish the boy was here. Give me a hand and show him what it's like." No one should be left alone at old age, he thought.But this is unavoidable.In order to maintain my strength, I must remember to eat the tuna while it is still fresh.Remember, even if you only want to eat a little bit, you must eat it in the morning.Remember, he told himself. During the night two dolphins came swimming up to the boat and he heard them churning and spraying.He could distinguish the noisy spout of the male from the panting spout of the female. "They're all good ones," he said. "They play, they fight, they love each other. They are our brothers, like flying fish." Then he began to sympathize with the big fish he had caught.It's wonderful, it's strange, and who knows how old it is, he thought.I have never caught such a powerful fish nor seen such a strange move.Maybe it is too clever to jump out of the water.It can jump out of the water, or make a lunge, and get me down.However, maybe it has been hooked many times before, so it knows how to fight.How could it know that its opponent was only one person, and it was an old man.But what a big fish he was and what a fortune he would fetch in the market if the meat was good, he took the bait like a male, he yanked like a male and he fought like a male. panic.I don't know if it has any plans, or is it just as desperate as me? He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin.The male fish always lets the female eat first, and the hooked one is the female fish. She goes mad, struggles in panic and despair, and soon exhausts herself. The male fish stays by her side all the time. The line scuttled back and forth and spun with it on the surface of the water.The male fish stood so close to the line that the old man was afraid he would cut the line with his tail which was sharp as a scythe and almost the same size and shape.The old man hooked the female up with a gaff, beat her with a stick, and holding the long beak that was like a light sword with edges like sandpaper, he hit the top of her head repeatedly until her color changed to that of the back of the mirror. He was about the same red and the boy hauled him aboard while the male stayed over the side.Then, while the old man was clearing the lines and getting the harpoon, the male fish jumped high in the air beside the boat to see where the female was and then went down deep, his lavender His wings, which were actually his pectoral fins, were spread wide, so that all his broad lavender stripes were visible.It was beautiful, the old man thought, and it stayed there. They are the saddest sight I have ever seen, the old man thought.The baby was also very sad, so we asked the female fish for forgiveness and killed her right away. "I wish the boy was here," he said aloud, resting on the rounded planks of the bow and feeling the strength of the great fish through the line over his shoulders , it was swimming steadily in its chosen direction. Since I have done a trick to trick him, he has to choose, the old man thought. It chose to stay in the dark, deep water, far away from all snares, snares, and tricks.I chose to rush to find it where no one has been.Go where no one has gone before in the world.I am chained to it now, and have been since noon.And neither I nor it has anyone to help. Maybe I shouldn't be a fisherman, he thought.Yet this is what I was born to do.I must remember to eat that tuna after dawn. It was a little before daylight when something took a bait behind him.He heard the snap of the rod and the line went straight over the gunwale.In the dark he drew the knife from the sheath and took all the pull of the fish on his left shoulder and leaned back against the wooden gunwale and cut the line.Then he cut the other line closest to him and in the dark made the loose ends of the two remaining coils fast.He worked deftly with one hand and kept his foot on the coils of the line to keep them from moving while he made the knot securely.He had six spare coils of line now.The two baited lines he had just cut had the two spare coils each and the two from the baited line that the big fish had taken and they were all spliced ​​together. At daylight, he thought, I'm going to go back to the line that holds the bait at forty fathoms down and cut that too and attach to the spare coils.I shall lose two hundred fathoms of good Catalunian line with hook and leads.These are reproducible.If you catch another fish and lose this big fish, where can you find it?I don't know what fish took the bait just now.Probably a marlin, or a swordfish, or a shark.I didn't even have time to think about it.I had to get rid of it quickly. He said aloud, "I wish the kid was here." But the child is not here, he thought.You are all by yourself and you go back to the last line anyway and cut it dark or not and make the two spare coils. He did just that.It was difficult working in the dark and once the big fish tipped and dragged him face down with a gash under his eye.Blood trickled down his cheeks.But it solidified and dried up before it reached his chin, so he moved back to the bow and leaned against the wooden side to rest.He drew the sack and moved the line carefully to another place over his shoulders and held it firmly with his shoulders and held it carefully to feel the fish's weight and put his hand out in the water to measure the speed of the skiff. Somehow the fish shook suddenly just now, he thought.It must have been the slip of the line on the high hump of his back.Its back certainly didn't hurt as much as mine.But no matter how strong it is, it can't drag the boat forever.What more can a man ask for now that everything that is going to make a mess has been removed and I have plenty of spare lines. "Fish," he said softly, "I will die with you." I think he will die with me too, thought the old man as he waited for the morning.It was cold now, just before dawn, and he pressed himself against the side of the wooden boat to keep warm.As long as it lasts, so can I, he thought.In the twilight the line was stretched and cut down into the water.The boat moved steadily, and as soon as the rising sun showed its edge, the sun shone directly on the old man's right shoulder. "It's going north," said the old man.The current will carry us far to the east, he thought.Wish it would bend with the current.This shows that it is getting more and more tired. As the sun rose higher the old man noticed that the fish was not getting weary.There is only one favorable sign.The slant of the line showed that he was swimming in shallow water.That doesn't necessarily mean it will jump out of the water.But it might. "God, let him jump," said the old man. "My line is long enough for him." Maybe if I give the line a little taut it hurts and he will jump, he thought.Now that it's day, let him jump, and he'll fill up those sacs along his back with air, and he won't be able to sink to the bottom and die. He started to make the line taut but it was so taut since he caught the fish that it was about to break and he leaned back to pull and felt it hard and knew he could not make it any tighter up.I must not jerk, he thought.Each yank would make the opening that the hook made wider and when he did jump he might throw the hook off.Anyway, the sun is out, and I feel better, this time I don't have to stare at the sun. There was yellow seaweed on the line but the old man was happy knowing it would only give the fish some more pull.It is this yellow Sargassum sargassum that emits a strong phosphorescence at night. "Fish," he said, "I love you and respect you very much. But today I will kill you anyway." If so, he thought.A small bird flew towards the boat from the north.It was a songbird, flying low above the water.The old man saw that he was very tired. The bird flew to the stern and rested there.Then he came round the old man's head and landed on the line where he felt more comfortable. "How old are you?" the old man asked the bird. "Is this your first time going out?" The bird watched him as he spoke.He was so tired that he took hold of the line with his small little feet and wobbled on it without looking at the line. "The line is safe," the old man said to him. "So safe. How can you be so tired at night when there's no wind. What's the matter with the birds?" Because there are eagles, he thought, flying out to sea to hunt them down.But he didn't tell the bird that, anyway, he didn't understand him, and he would soon know how powerful the eagle was. "Have a good rest, birdie," he said. "Then jump in and take your chances, like any man or bird or fish." He talked for encouragement, for his back had stiffened during the night, and it hurt so badly now. "Bird, stay with me if you like," he said. "I'm sorry I can't hoist the sails and take you home while the wind is blowing. But I have a friend at last." Just then the fish gave a sharp heel and dragged the old man over the bow and would have been out to sea if he hadn't braced himself and let out some line.There was a jerk of the line and the bird flew away and the old man did not see it go. He felt the line carefully with his right hand and saw that it was bleeding. "So the fish was hurt by something," he said aloud and pulling back the line to see if he could turn the fish back.But just before the snap he held the line steady and fell back to counteract the pull on the line. "You feel pain now, fish," he said. "Honestly, so do I." He turned to look for the little bird, for he was glad to have him for company.The birds flew away. You didn't stay long, the old man thought.But where you go, the wind and waves are relatively strong, and you will not be safe until you fly to the shore.How could I let the fish jerk and cut my hand?I must be getting dumber.Or maybe it was just looking at the little bird and thinking about it.Now I have to take care of my work and eat that tuna later so I don't lose my strength. "I wish the boy was here and I had some salt on hand," he said aloud. He moved the heavy line over his left shoulder and knelt carefully and washed his hands in the sea and kept his hands in the water for over a minute, watching the blood drift away in the water and the water in his hands as the boat moved. Beating steadily. "It swims a lot slower," he said. The old man wished to let his hand soak in the salt water for a while longer, but he was afraid that the fish would make another sudden tilt, so he stood up, gathered his energy, and raised his hand towards the sun.Zuo was strangled by the fishing line and cut his flesh.However, it is the most useful place at hand.He knew he needed those hands to do the job, and he didn't like to have them cut before he even started. "Now," he said, when his hands were dry, "I should eat the tuna. I can hook him up and eat him here in comfort." He knelt down and found the tuna with the gaff under the stern and keeping it clear of the coils of line he hooked it towards him.Holding the line with his left shoulder again and putting his left hand and arm on the board, he took the tuna off the gaff hook and put the gaff back on.He put his knee on the fish and slit the fish vertically from neck to tail, cutting strips of dark red flesh.The strips were wedge-shaped in section and he cut them from the side of the spine to the side of the belly, and when he cut six strips he spread them out on the planks of the bow, wiped his knife on his trousers, and picked up the fish by the tail , throwing the bones in the sea. "I don't think I can eat a whole fish," he said, cutting a fish in two with his knife.He felt the strain on the line and his left hand was cramped.The left hand held the thick line tightly and he looked at it with disgust. "What kind of hand is that," he said. "Cramp as you please. Become a bird's claw. It won't do you any good." Come on, he thought, looking at the line slanting down into the dark deep water.Eat it quickly, it will strengthen your hands.The hand is not to blame, you have been dealing with this fish for hours.But you can fight it to the end.Eat the tuna right away. He picked up half a fish, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly.It's not unpalatable.Chew well, he thought, and swallow the juice.It doesn't taste bad with a little lime or lemon or salt. "Hand, how do you feel?" he asked the cramped hand, which was almost cadaverous. "I'll eat some more for you." He ate the other half of the fish he had cut in two.He chewed carefully, then spat out the skin. "觉得怎么样，手？或者现在还答不上来？"他拿起一整条鱼肉，咀嚼起来。 "这是条壮实而血气旺盛的鱼。"他想。"我运气好，捉到了它，而不是条鲯鳅。鲯鳅太甜了。这鱼简直一点也不甜，元气还都保存着。" 然而最有道理的还是讲究实用，他想。但愿我有点儿盐。我还不知道太阳会不会把剩下的鱼肉给晒坏或者晒干，所以最好把它们都吃了，尽管我并不饿。那鱼现在又平静又安稳。我把这些鱼肉统统吃了，就有充足的准备啦。 "耐心点吧，手，"他说。"我这样吃东西是为了你啊。"我巴望也能喂那条大鱼，他想。它是我的兄弟。可是我不得不把它弄死，我得保持精力来这样做。他认真地慢慢儿把那些楔形的鱼肉条全都吃了。 他直起腰来，把手在裤子上擦了擦。 "行了，"他说。"你可以放掉钓索了，手啊，我要单单用右臂来对付它，直到你不再胡闹。"他把左脚踩住刚才用左手攥着的粗钓索，身子朝后倒，用背部来承受那股拉力。"天主帮助我，让这抽筋快好吧，"他说。"因为我不知道这条鱼还要怎么着。" 不过它似乎很镇静，他想，而且在按着它的计划行动。可是它的计划是什么，他想。我的又是什么？我必须随机应变，拿我的计划来对付它的，因为它个儿这么大。如果它跳出水来，我能弄死它。但是它始终待在下面不上来。那我也就跟它奉陪到底。 他把那只抽筋的手在裤子上擦擦，想使手指松动松动。可是手张不开来。也许随着太阳出来它能张开，他想。也许等那些养人的生金枪鱼肉消化后，它能张开。如果我非靠这只手不可，我要不惜任何代价把它张开。但是我眼下不愿硬把它张开。让它自行张开，自动恢复过来吧。我毕竟在昨夜把它使用得过度了，那时候不得不把各条钓索解开，系在一起。 他眺望着海面，发觉他此刻是多么孤单。但是他可以看见漆黑的海水深处的彩虹七色、面前伸展着的钓索和那平静的海面上的微妙的波动。由于贸易风的吹刮，这时云块正在积聚起来，他朝前望去，见到一群野鸭在水面上飞，在天空的衬托下，身影刻划得很清楚，然后模糊起来，然后又清楚地刻划出来，于是他发觉，一个人在海上是永远不会感到孤单的。 他想到有些人乘小船驶到了望不见陆地的地方，会觉得害怕，他明白在天气会突然变坏的那几月里，他们是有理由害怕的。可是如今正当刮飓风的月份，而在不刮的时候，这些月份正是一年中天气最佳的时候。 如果将刮飓风，而你正在海上的话，你总能在好几天前就看见天上有种种迹象。人们在岸上可看不见，因为他们不知道该找什么，他想。陆地上一定也看得见异常的现象，那就是云的式样不同。但是眼前不会刮飓风。 他望望天空，看见一团团白色的积云，形状象一堆堆可人心意的冰淇淋，而在高高的上空，高爽的九月的天空衬托着一团团羽毛般的卷云。 "轻风，"他说。"这天气对我比对你更有利，鱼啊。"他的左手依然在抽筋，但他正在慢慢地把它张开。 我恨抽筋，他想。这是对自己身体的背叛行为。由于食物中毒而腹泻或者呕吐，是在别人面前丢脸。但是抽筋，在西班牙语中叫ｃａｌａｍｂｒｅ，是丢自己的脸，尤其是一个人独自待着的时候。 要是那孩子在这儿，他可以给我揉揉胳臂，从前臂一直往下揉，他想。不过这手总会松开的。 随后，他用右手去摸钓索，感到上面的份量变了，这才看见在水里的斜度也变了。跟着，他俯身朝着钓索，把左手啪地紧按在大腿上，看见倾斜的钓索在慢慢地向上升起。"它上来啦，"他说。"手啊，快点。请快一点。" 钓索慢慢儿稳稳上升，接着小船前面的海面鼓起来了，鱼出水了。它不停地往上冒，水从它身上向两边直泻。它在阳光里亮光光的，脑袋和背部呈深紫色，两侧的条纹在阳光里显得宽阔，带着淡紫色。它的长嘴象棒球棒那样长，逐渐变细，象一把轻剑，它把全身从头到尾都露出水面，然后象潜水员般滑溜地又钻进水去，老人看见它那大镰刀般的尾巴没入水里，钓索开始往外飞速溜去。 "它比这小船还长两英尺，"老人说。钓索朝水中溜得既快又稳，说明这鱼并没有受惊。老人设法用双手拉住钓索，用的力气刚好不致被鱼扯断。他明白，要是他没法用稳定的劲儿使鱼慢下来，它就会把钓索全部拖走，并且绷断。 它是条大鱼，我一定要制服它，他想。我一定不能让它明白它有多大的力气，明白如果飞逃的话，它能干出什么来。我要是它，我眼下就要使出浑身的力气，一直飞逃到什么东西绷断为止。但是感谢上帝它们没有我们这些要杀害它们的人聪明，尽管它们比我们高尚，更有能耐。 老人见过许多大鱼。他见过许多超过一千磅的，前半辈子也曾逮住过两条这么大的，不过从未独自一个人逮住过。现在正是独自一个人，看不见陆地的影子，却在跟一条比他曾见过、曾听说过的更大的鱼紧拴在一起，而他的左手依旧拳曲着，象紧抓着的鹰爪。 可是它就会复原的，他想。它当然会复原，来帮助我的右手。有三样东西是兄弟：那条鱼和我的两只手。这手一定会复原的。真可耻，它竟会抽筋。鱼又慢下来了，正用它惯常的速度游着。 弄不懂它为什么跳出水来，老人想。简直象是为了让我看看它个儿有多大才跳的。反正我现在是知道了，他想。但愿我也能让它看看我是个什么样的人。不过这一来它会看到这只抽筋的手了。让它以为我是个比现在的我更富有男子汉气概的人，我就能做到这一点。但愿我就是这条鱼，他想，使出它所有的力量，而要对付的仅仅是我的意志和我的智慧。 他舒舒服服地靠在木船舷上，忍受着袭来的痛楚感，那鱼稳定地游着，小船穿过深色的海水缓缓前进。随着东方吹来的风，海上起了小浪，到中午时分，老人那抽筋的左手复原了。 "这对你是坏消息，鱼啊，"他说，把钓索从披在他肩上的麻袋上挪了一下位置。 他感到舒服，但也很痛苦，然而他根本不承认是痛苦。