Chapter 5 The old man and the sea (4)

When he was close with it and put the fish's head against the bow he could not believe how big it was.He untied the harpoon rope from the bitt, passed it through the fish's gills, pulled it out his jaws, made a turn around his long sword-like mandible, then passed the rope through the other gill and placed it in the mouth of the fish. He made a full turn on the boat, tied the double rope in a knot, and made it fast to the bitt in the bow.Then he cut a length of rope and went astern to noose the tail.The fish had changed from its original purple and silver color to pure silver, with the same lavender in its stripes and tail.The stripes were wider than a man's spread-fingered hand, and its eyes looked as indifferent as the reflectors of a periscope, or of saints in the procession of God.

That's the only way to kill it, said the old man.He drank the water and felt better, knowing that he would not collapse, and his mind was clear.Looks like it weighs more than fifteen hundred pounds, he thought.Maybe much heavier.If the head, tail and feet are removed, the meat will account for two-thirds of the weight. Calculated in three cents per pound, how much should it be? I need a pencil to calculate, he said.My mind is not sober to this extent.However, I think the great DiMaggio would be proud of me today.I don't have bone spurs.But the pain in my hands and back was terrible.Don't know what a bone spur is, he thought.Maybe we all have it and don't know it.

He made the fish fast to the bow, stern and centerboard.It was so big that it was almost as if another, much larger boat had been tied alongside it.He cut a length of line and tied the fish's lower jaw to his long mandible so that his mouth could not be opened and the boat moved as cleanly as possible.Then he rigged the mast and loaded the gaff stick and boom and spread the patched sail and the boat started moving, half in the stern, heading southwest. He didn't need a compass to tell him where the southwest was.All he needed to know was the feel of the trade wind on him and the way the sails moved.I'd better put a thin line with a spoon in the water and catch something to eat and moisten my mouth.But he could find no spoon and his sardines were rotten.So he hooked a cluster of yellow sargassum with the gaff as the boat went by and shook it so that the little shrimps in it fell on the planks of the skiff.There are more than a dozen small shrimps in total, jumping and swinging their feet, like sand fleas.The old man pinched off their heads with his thumb and forefinger, chewed the shells and tails and ate them.They were small, but he knew they were nutritious and tasty.

The old man still had two sips of water in the bottle, and he drank half of it after eating the shrimp.The boat sailed fairly well, considering the boat's disadvantages, 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 was real and not a dream.There was a time when he felt so bad that it was going to fail, and thought it might be a dream.And when he saw the fish afterward that he had jumped out of the water and hung motionless in mid-air before he fell, he was sure that there must be some great mystery in it that he could not believe.He could not see very well then, though now he could see as clearly as ever.

Now he knew the fish was here and his hands and his back were not things of a dream.The hands will heal soon, he thought.They bleed profusely, and the sea will heal them.The dark waters of this true bay are the best healing agent in the world.I just have to keep my head clear.These two hands had done their part and we sailed well.With the fish's mouth shut and the tail straight up and down, we sailed like brothers.Then his mind became a little unclear, and he actually remembered, is it bringing me home, or am I bringing it home?If I had towed it behind the boat, there would be no doubt about it.If the fish had been put in the skiff without face, there would have been no doubt about it.But they sailed together tied side by side so the old man thought, let him take me home if he likes.I am only stronger than it by trickery, but it has no malice against me.

They sailed well and the old man dipped his hands in the salt water and tried to keep his head clear.The cumulus clouds were high and there were quite a few cirrus clouds overhead so the old man could see that the wind was going to blow all night.The old man would look at the fish often to be sure it was true.It was an hour before the first shark came to attack it. The appearance of this shark was no accident.As the great mass of dark red blood sank and spread a mile deep into the sea, it came up from the depths.It came up so fast, so desperately, that it broke through the blue water and into the sunlight.Then it fell back into the sea again, smelling the trail of blood, and swam along the path taken by the boat and the fish.

Sometimes it gets lost in that smell.But it always smells again, or just a little bit, and it follows quickly and hard.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 swordfish's and his belly was silver and his hide was smooth and handsome.He was built as a swordfish except for his huge jaws which were shutting tight now as he swam fast, just below the surface with his high dorsal fin knifing through the water without wavering.Inside the tightly closed lips, all eight rows of teeth sloped inward.Unlike most sharks, they are not generally pyramid-shaped.They are human fingers curled up like claws.They were almost as long as the old man's fingers, with razor-sharp jaws on either side.This kind of fish feeds on all the fish in the sea. They swim so fast, they are so strong, and they are equipped with weapons, so that they are invincible.It picked up speed now, smelling the fresh smell of blood, its blue dorsal fin cutting through the water.The old man saw it coming and knew that it was a shark that was fearless and determined to do what it wanted.He readied the harpoon and made the line fast as he watched the shark come forward.The line was short and missing the length he had cut to tie the fish.The old man was sober now, normal, full of determination, but not much hope.Things were too good to last, he thought.He watched the shark approach and took a moment to glance at the big fish.It was almost like a dream, he thought.I can't stop it from coming at me, but maybe I can kill it.Dendoso shark, he thought.Bad luck for you.

The shark was closing fast astern and when he hit the fish the old man saw his mouth open and his strange eyes and the screeching of his teeth as he took the fish just above the tail.The shark's head was out of water and his back was coming out of the water and the old man heard the noise of skin and flesh being ripped from the big fish as he rammed the harpoon down on the shark's head just between its eyes. At the intersection of the line between the nose and the line that goes straight from the nose to the back of the head.These two lines do not really exist.Just the heavy, pointed blue head, with the big eyes and those jutting jaws that creaked and devoured everything.But that was where the brain was and the old man went straight for it.With all his strength, and with blood-stained hands, he drove a good harpoon towards it.He stabbed it, not with hope, but with determination and utter malice.

The shark turned over and the old man could see that there was no life in his eyes and he turned over after him and made two loops of rope on his own.The old man knew the shark was going to die but he still wouldn't give up.At this time, its belly was up, its tail was flapping, its jaws were creaking, and it paddled across the water like a speedboat.Its tail beat the water white and three-quarters of its body was above the surface when the rope, taut, shook and snapped.The shark lay still on the surface for a moment and the old man stared at him.Then it slowly sank. It had eaten about forty pounds of meat, the old man said aloud.It took my harpoon too and so much line, he thought, and now my fish is bleeding again and other sharks will come.

He couldn't bear to look at the dead fish again because it had been bitten and mutilated.When the fish was attacked he felt as if he had been attacked.But I killed the shark that attacked my fish, he thought.And it's the biggest dendoso shark I've ever seen.God knows, I've seen some big ones. Things were too good to last, he thought.I wish it was a dream, I didn't catch the fish at all, I was lying alone on the old newspaper on my bed. But people aren't made to fail, he said.A man can be destroyed, but not defeated.But I am sorry to kill the fish, he thought.Now the bad time is coming and I don't even have a harpoon.This dendoso shark is brutal, capable, strong and intelligent.But I'm smarter than that.Maybe not, he thought.Maybe I'm just a better weapon than it is.

Don't think about it, old man, he said aloud.Follow this route and deal with it when it happens.But I must think, he thought.Because that's all I have left.This, and baseball.Wonder if the great DiMaggio would like me to hit its brain like that?It's no big deal, he thought.Anyone can do it.But you can argue that my injured hands are as much a handicap as bone spurs?I have no way of knowing.I've never had anything wrong with my heel, except once when I stepped on a sea ray while swimming and got stung by it, the calf was paralyzed and the pain was unbearable. Think of something happy, old man, he said.With every passing minute, you're one step closer to home.Lose forty pounds of fish and you sail lighter.He knew well what would happen when he got in the middle of the current.But there is nothing that can be done right now. No, there is a way, he said aloud.I can tie a knife to the butt of an oar. So he did it with the tiller under his arm and with one foot on the sheet. All right, he said.I am still an old man.But I am not without weapons. Now the wind blew stronger and he sailed smoothly.He just stared at the fish's upper body and regained some hope. You'd be stupid not to hope, he thought.Besides, I think it's a sin.Don't feel guilty, he thought.Enough troubles, no more crimes.Besides, I don't understand this at all. I don't understand this at all, and I can't tell if I believe it.Perhaps it was a sin to kill the fish.I think so, though I do it to feed myself and feed many people.But then again, everything is a sin.Forget about being guilty.It's too late to think about it now, and some people are paid to do it.Let them think about it.You were born a fisherman, as the fish was born a fish.San Pedro was a fisherman, like the great DiMaggio's father. But he liked to think about all the things he was wrapped up in, and since he had no books or radio to read, he thought a lot about sin.You didn't just kill the fish to feed yourself and sell it for food, he thought.You kill it for pride, because you're a fisherman.You love it when it is alive, and you still love it when it is dead.It's not a sin to kill it if you love it.Perhaps a greater sin? You think too much, old man, he said out loud.But you'd love to kill that dendoso shark, he thought.Like you, it survives by eating live fish.It is not a scavenger, nor does it swim around to satisfy its appetite like some sharks do.It is beautiful and sublime, and it is not afraid of anything.I killed it in self-defense, the old man said aloud.Killing is also very neat. Besides, he thought, everything kills everything else, but in different ways.Fishing has fed me and is killing me as well.That child keeps me alive, he thought.I can't fool myself too much. He leaned over the side and tore a piece of flesh from the fish where the shark had bitten it.As he chewed, he felt that the meat was of good quality and delicious.Firm and juicy, like cattle meat, but not red.With no tendons at all, he knows that he can fetch the highest price in the market.But there was no way to keep its smell from spreading into the water, and the old man knew that the worst time was coming. The wind kept blowing.It turned slightly to the northeast, which he understood meant it would not rest.The old man looked ahead and saw no sails nor hulls or smoke from any boat.Only the flying fish that jumped up from under his bow and fled to the sides and the pools of yellow sargassum.He couldn't even see a bird.He had sailed for two hours, resting in the stern, sometimes chewing a bit of flesh torn from the marlin, trying to rest and keep his strength, when he saw the first of the two sharks . Ay, he said out loud.The word was untranslatable, perhaps it was just a cry, like the involuntary sound a man makes when he feels a nail pass through his hands and into wood. Galano shark, he said out loud.He saw the other fin emerging from the water behind the first and recognized them as shovelnose sharks by the brown triangular fin and the wagging tail.They smelled the smell of blood and were very excited. They were so excited that they lost their scent for a while, and smelled it again for a while.But they are always approaching. The old man made the sheet fast and jammed the tiller.Then he took the oar with the knife strapped to it.He lifted it as lightly as he could, for his hands were so painful that they couldn't help it.Then he opened his hands and squeezed the oar lightly, letting his hands relax.He closed his hands tightly so they would take the pain without flinching and watched the sharks come.He could see their broad, flattened, spade-shaped heads now and their broad, white-tipped pectoral fins.They were nasty sharks, bad smelling, killing other fish as well as eating rotten dead fish and when they were hungry they would bite an oar or the rudder of a boat.These are the sharks that will bite off the feet and flippers of turtles while they are sleeping on the surface, and will attack a person in the water if they are hungry, even if the person does not smell of fish blood or slime. taste. Ay, said the old man.Galano shark.Come on, Galano sharks. Here they come.But they came in a different way than the mako shark.One of the sharks turned and disappeared under the skiff and the old man felt the skiff shake as it pulled at the dead fish in its jaws.The other watched the old man with its yellow slit eyes and then came fast, with its semicircular jaws open wide, to bite the fish where it had been bitten.The line showed clearly on the top of his brown head and on the back where the brain joined the spinal cord and the old man drove the knife on the oar into the juncture , withdrew, and drove it in again into the shark's yellow cat-like eyes.The shark let go of the fish and slid downhill, swallowing the meat as he died. The skiff was still rocking as the other shark was nibbling at the fish and the old man let go the sheet so that the skiff would come sideways and expose the shark from under. ?When he saw the shark he leaned over the side of the skiff and jabbed at it with the oar.He only poked at the flesh but the shark's hide was so tight the knife could barely get in.This poke not only hurt his hands, but also hurt his shoulder.But the shark came up quickly and the old man got his flat head right in the middle with his nose sticking out of the water on the fish.The old man drew the blade and hit the shark again in the same place.It still locked its jaws tightly and held on to the fish, and the old man stabbed it in the left eye.The shark was still hanging there. Not enough?said the old man, driving the blade between its spine and its brain.It was easy to bind now, and he felt its cartilage break.The old man turned the oar upside down and put the blade between the shark's jaws and tried to pry his jaws open.He turned the blade and the shark let go and slid away and he said, Come on, Galano shark, slip into a mile of water.Go to your friend, maybe it's your mom. The old man wiped the blade and put down the oar.Then he found the sheet and hoisted the sail and put the skiff on her course. They must have eaten a quarter of the fish and it was good meat, he said aloud.I wish it was a dream and I didn't catch it at all.I'm so sorry about this, fish.This messes everything up.He stopped and didn't want to look at the fish now.It was bled and washed by the sea, and it looked like the silver plating on the back of a mirror, and the stripes on its body were still visible.I shouldn't have gone this far, fish, he said.Not good for you or me.I'm sorry, fish. Come on, he said to himself.Go look at the rope that binds the knife and see if it is broken.Then get your hands on because there are sharks to come. I wish there was a stone to sharpen the knife, the old man said after examining the knife on the oar handle.I should have brought a millstone.There's more than enough you should have brought, he thought.But you didn't bring it, old man.Now is not the time to think about what you don't have, think about what you can do with what you have. How much advice you have given me, he said out loud.I'm sick of hearing it.He held the tiller under his arm and kept his hands in the water as the boat rolled on.God knows how much meat the last shark took, he said.The boat is much lighter now.He didn't want to think about the fish's mutilated belly.He knew that every time the shark slammed into it a bit of flesh was torn away and that the fish had left a trail on all the sharks now as wide as a road in the sea. He is a big fish and can sustain a man all winter, he thought.Forget about it.Better rest, get your hands in order, and protect the rest of the fish.The bloody smell in the water is so thick, the bloody smell on my hand is nothing.Said that there is not much blood on the hands.There's not much room for Chowk.The bleeding might stop the cramp in my left hand. What else can I think about now?he thinks.nothing.I had to think about nothing and wait for the next shark to come.If only it were a dream, he thought.But who can tell?Maybe it will turn out to be good. The next shark to come was a lone shovelnose shark.From the way it's coming, it's like a pig running towards the trough. If a pig can have such a big mouth, you can put your head in it.The old man let it take the fish and the knife that was attached to the oar went into his brain.But the shark jerked backwards and rolled and the blade snapped. The old man sat down and steered.He didn't even look at the big shark sinking slowly in the water, it was all its size at first and then it got smaller and then there was nothing left.This kind of scene always fascinates the old man.But this time he didn't even look at it. I still have the hook, he said.It's useless though.I still have the two oars and the tiller and the short club. They beat me now, he thought.I'm too old to kill a shark with a stick.But as long as I have an oar and a club and a tiller, I'll try.He soaked his hands in the water again.As the afternoon wore on, it was nearly evening, and he could see nothing but sea and sky.The wind in the sky was stronger than before, and he expected to see land before long. You're tired, old man, he said.You are weary in your bones. It wasn't until almost sunset that the sharks came to attack it again. The old man could see the two brown fins swimming down the wide trail the fish must have left in the water.They didn't even have to go back and forth to search for the stench.They swam straight side by side toward the boat. He stopped the tiller and made the sheet fast and reached under the stern for his stick.It was an oar handle, sawn from a broken oar, about two feet and a half long.He could only use one hand effectively because of the handle on it so he took a good hold of it with his right hand and bent his hand over it as he watched the shark come.Both are Galano sharks. I have to let the first shark take a good bite before hitting him on the tip of his nose or straight down the middle of the head, he thought. The two sharks were closing in together and as soon as he saw the closer one open its jaws and bite straight into the silver flank of the fish, he raised his club high and hit it hard, slamming it across the shark's wide open mouth. overhead.When the stick fell, he felt as if it had hit tough rubber.But he felt the hard bone too and he hit the fish hard on the tip of his nose as the shark slid down from the fish. Another shark came and left, and then it opened its mouth wide and pounced on it.He hit the fish straight on and closed his jaws and the old man saw the white chunks of fish come out of the corners of his mouth.He hit him with the stick and hit him on the head and the shark looked at him and tore the flesh out of his jaws.When it slipped away to swallow the meat, the old man hit him with the club again and hit only the thick, tough, rubbery place. Come on, galano shark, said the old man.Come again. The shark came forward and the old man gave him a hit as he closed his jaws.He hit it solidly, lifting the stick as high as he could get it down.This time he felt the bone in the back of the brain and he hit again in the same place and the shark sluggishly tore away the meat it had in its jaws and slipped away from the fish. The old man watched for it to come again but neither shark showed.Then he saw one of them swimming in circles on the surface of the sea.He didn't see the other fin. I can't hope to kill them, he thought.I could do it when I was young and strong.But I've beaten them both badly, and neither of them will feel better.If I could swing a baseball bat with both hands, I'd kill the first one.Even now, he thought. He did not want to look at the fish.He knew that half of its body had been bitten to pieces.The sun had gone down when he had fought the shark just now. It's going to be dark soon, he said.Then I shall see the lights of Havana.If I go too far east, I'll see lights on a newly opened beach. I'm not too far from land now, he thought.I hope no one worries about this.Of course, only the kid would worry.But I believe he must have confidence.Many old fishermen will also be worried.And many others, he thought.I live in a nice town. He could not talk to the fish anymore because it was spoiled so badly.Then something occurred to his mind. Half a fish, he said.You turned out to be complete.I'm sorry, I went too far out to sea.I ruined you and me.We killed a lot of sharks though, and you wounded a lot of them with me.How many have you killed, good fish?That long beak on your head is not for nothing. He liked to think of the fish and what it would do to a shark if it were swimming free.I should cut off his long beak and use it to fight those sharks, he thought.But there was no ax, and the knife was lost later. But what a weapon it would be if I hacked it off so I could attach it to the butt of the oar.That way, we can fight them together.What would you do if they came at night?What can you do? Fight them, he said.I will fight them to the death. But in the darkness now, with no reflection of the sky or lights but the wind and the steady pull of the sail, he felt that he might be dead.He closed his hands and touched the palms.These hands are not dead, he only needs to open and close them to feel the pain of life.He leaned his back against the stern and knew he was not dead.That's what his shoulders told him. I promised him how many prayers I would say if I caught this fish, but I'm too tired to say it now.I still took the sack and draped it over my shoulders. Lying in the stern and steering the helm, he watched the sky, waiting for the reflection of the sky to appear.I still have half a fish, he thought.Maybe I'll be lucky enough to bring the first half back with me.I must be somewhat lucky.no, he said.You went too far out to sea and washed away your luck. Don't be silly, he said aloud.Stay awake and take the helm.You may still have great luck. If there's any place that sells good luck, I'd like to buy some, he said.What can I get for it?he asked himself.What about a lost harpoon, a broken knife, and two bruised hands? Maybe, he said.You tried to buy it with the eighty-four days at sea.They almost sold it to you too. I can't be crazy, he thought.Good luck comes in many different ways, who can recognize it?But no matter what kind of good luck I want, I will give it as much as I want.If only I could see the reflection of the lights, he thought.I wish too much.But that's all I want right now.He tried to sit more comfortably and steer well, knowing that he was not dead because of the pain. About ten o'clock at night, he saw the reflection of the city lights on the sky.At first it could only be seen faintly, like the twilight in the sky before the moon rises.Then it became clear step by step that it was on the other side of the sea that was being blown rough by the increasing wind at this moment.He steered into the reflective circle, and soon, he thought, he would be at the edge of the Gulf Stream. It's over now, he thought.They may come and attack me again.But how can one deal with them in the dark, without a weapon?He was stiff and aching now, and his wounds and all the strained parts of his body ached in the cold of the night.I hope I don't have to fight any more, he thought.I wish I didn't have to fight again. But at midnight he fought again, and this time he knew it was futile.They came in a pack and he could see only the lines in the water that their fins made and their phosphorescence as they headed straight for the fish.He beat on their heads and heard the snapping of the jaws and the sound of them rocking the skiff as they caught the fish under the bottom.He couldn't see the target, he could only feel it, hear it, and he swung desperately at it, feeling something grab the stick and it was gone. He jerked the tiller from the tiller and struck and hacked with it, clutching both hands and thrusting down again and again.But they were all ahead of the bow now and coming up one by one and together in packs and taking off the pieces of fish that glowed below the surface as they turned and came again. Finally one of the sharks came up towards the head and he knew it was over.He swung the tiller against the shark's head and caught the meat in his jaws on the thick head.He swung once, twice, and again.He heard the tiller snap and he stabbed the shark with the broken handle.He felt it go in, knew it was sharp, and drove it in again.The shark let go, rolled over and left.This was the last shark of the pack to come.They have nothing to eat anymore. The old man could hardly breathe now, and felt a strange taste in his mouth.The smell was coppery and sweet, and he was frightened for a moment.But the smell is not too strong. He spat into the sea and said: Eat it, Galano shark.Have a dream, dream that you kill a person. Knowing that he was now at last beaten and hopeless, he went back to the stern and found that the jagged end of the tiller would still fit in the slot of the rudder for him to steer.He wrapped the sack around his shoulders and steered the boat on course.Sailing was easy, he had no thought or feeling.He was above it all now, and sailed the skiff back to his home port as smartly and wisely as possible.Some sharks had come at the carcass at night to eat the carcass as one picks crumbs off the table.The old man ignored them and he paid no attention to anything but steering.He only noticed how lightly and how well the boat sailed now that there was nothing heavy over her sides. The boat is all right, he thought.It was all right and undamaged except for the tiller.That's easy to replace. He felt he was already in the Gulf Stream and could see the lights of the beach houses along the shore.He knew where he was at the moment, and it was no problem to go home.After all, the wind is always our friend, he thought.Then he added: Sometimes it is.There is also the sea, in which there are our friends and our enemies.And the bed, he thought.The bed is my friend.Just the bed, he thought.The bed would be a great thing.It's nice to go to bed after losing a battle, he thought.I never knew it could be so comfortable.So what beat you, he thought.Nothing, he said aloud.It's just that I'm too far out to sea. By the time he pulled into Little Harbour, the lights at the Terrace were all out, and he knew people were in bed.The sea breeze strengthened step by step, and it was blowing very fiercely at this moment.It was quiet in the harbour, however, and he drove straight to a small pebble beach under the rocks.No one came to help him, so he had to row the boat as close to the shore as he could.Then he stepped out of the boat and tied it to a rock. He lowered the mast, furled and tied the sail.Then he hoisted the mast and climbed ashore.Only then did he realize how tired he was.He stopped for a moment and looked back and saw the fish's great tail standing up behind the stern of the skiff in the reflection of the street lamp.He could see its bare spine like a white line, and its black head with its protruding beak, and nothing in between. He climbed up again, and when he got to the top, he fell down and lay there for a while, with the mast still across his shoulders.He managed to get up.But it was too difficult, so he sat there with the mast on his shoulders, looking out at the road.A cat passed across the road, going about its own business, and the old man watched it.Then he just looked at the road. At last, he lowered the mast and stood up.He raised the mast, put it on his shoulders, and walked down the road.He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack. Once inside the shed, he leaned the mast against the wall.He found a water bottle in the dark and took a sip of water.Then he lay down on the bed.He pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, then around his back and legs, and lay face down on the newspaper, arms outstretched, palms up. In the morning, the child looked through the door, and he was fast asleep.The wind was blowing fiercely, and those drift net fishing boats would not go out to sea, so the child slept late, and like every morning, he got up and went to the old man's shack.The child saw the old man panting, and then saw the old man's hands, and began to cry.He came out quietly to get some coffee, crying as he walked. Many fishermen stood around the skiff looking at what was lashed alongside and one fisherman stood in the water with his trousers rolled up and was measuring the wreck of the dead fish with a line. The child does not go ashore.He had been there just now, and one of the fishermen was watching the skiff for him. What's the matter with him?cried a fisherman. Sleeping, the child cried.He didn't care if people saw him crying.Nobody bother him. It was eighteen feet long from nose to tail, cried the fisherman who was measuring the fish. I believe, said the child. He went into the Terrace and asked for a can of coffee. To be hot, add more milk and sugar in it. what else? no more.I'll see what he wants to eat later. What a big fish, said the restaurant owner.Never had fish like this.Those two you caught yesterday were pretty good too. To hell with my fish, said the boy, and wept again. Do you want something to drink?asked the boss. No, said the child.Tell them to leave Santiago alone.I'll be right back. Tell him how sad I am. Thank you, said the child. The boy took the pot of hot coffee and went straight to the old man's shack, sat down beside him, and waited for him to wake up.Once he was about to wake up.But he fell asleep again, and the boy crossed the road to borrow some wood for his coffee. The old man finally woke up. Don't sit up, said the child.Drink this up.He poured some coffee into a glass. The old man took it and drank it. They beat me, Manolin, he said.They really beat me to it. It didn't beat you.Not that fish. right.Really.It was only later that I lost the battle. Pedrico was guarding the boat and the fishing gear.What are you going to do with that fish head? Have Pedrico chop it up and use it in the fishing machine. What about the long mouth? Take it if you want it. I want it, said the child.Now we have to discuss something else. Have they ever come to see me? of course.The Coast Guard and aircraft were dispatched. The ocean is very big and the boat is too small to see, said the old man.他感到多么愉快，可以对一个人说话，不再只是自言自语，对着海说话了。我很想念你，他说。你们捉到了什么？ 头一天一条。第二天一条，第三天两条。 great. 现在我们又可以一起钓鱼了。 No.我运气不好。我再不会交好运了。 去它的好运，孩子说。我会带来好运的。 你家里人会怎么说呢？ I do not care.我昨天逮住了两条。不过我们现在要一起钓鱼，因为我还有好多东西需要学。 我们得弄一支能扎死鱼的好长矛，经常放在船上。你可以用一辆旧福特牌汽车上的钢板做矛头。我们可以拿到瓜纳巴科亚去磨。应该把它磨得很锋利，不要回火锻造，免得它会断裂。我的刀子断了。 我去弄把刀子来，把钢板也磨磨快。这大风要刮多少天？ 也许三天。Maybe more. 我要把什么都安排好，孩子说。你把你的手养好，老大爷。 我知道怎样保养它们的。夜里，我吐出了一些奇怪的东西，感到胸膛里有什么东西碎了。 把这个也养养好，孩子说。躺下吧，老大爷，我去给你拿干净衬衫来。还带点吃的来。 我不在这儿的时候的报纸，你也随便带一份来，老人说。 你得赶快好起来，因为我还有好多东西要学，你可以把什么都教给我。你吃了多少苦？ 可不少啊，老人说。 我去把吃的东西和报纸拿来，孩子说。好好休息吧，老大爷。我到药房去给你的手弄点药来。 别忘了跟佩德里科说那鱼头给他了。 Won't.我记得。 孩子出了门，顺着那磨损的珊瑚石路走去，他又在哭了。 那天下午，露台饭店来了一群旅游者，有个女人朝下面的海水望去，看见在一些空气酒听和死梭子鱼之间，有一条又粗又长的白色脊骨，一端有条巨大的尾巴，当东风在港外不断地掀起大浪的时候，这尾巴随着潮水瓶落、摇摆。 what is that?她问一名侍者，指着那条大鱼的长长的脊骨，它如今仅仅是垃圾，只等潮水来把它带走了。 Ｔｉｂｕｒｏｎ①，侍者说，Ｅｓｈａｒｋ②。他打算解释这事情的经过。 ③ 我不知道鲨鱼有这样漂亮的尾巴，形状这样美观。 我也不知道，她的男伴说。 在大路另一头老人的窝棚里，他又睡着了。他依旧脸朝下躺着，孩子坐在他身边，守着他。老人正梦见狮子。 Finish ①西班牙语：鲨鱼。 ②这是侍者用英语讲鲨鱼（Ｓｈａｒｋ）时读别的发音，前面多了一个元音。 ③他想说这是被鲨鱼残杀的大马林鱼的残骸，但说到这里，对方就错以为这是鲨鱼的骨骼了。