The&Old&Man&and&the&Sea
The Old Man And the Sea
TO CHARLIE SCRIBNER
TO MAX PERKINS
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.
(Note: The skill of the introduction
of the old man should be noted. He is both in time and timeless.
The numbers mentioned are significant.)
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
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
"No,” the old man said. "You're with a lucky boat. Stay with
"But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and
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
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 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 harbor
from the shark
but today there was only the faint edge of the odor
because the wind had
backed into the north and then dropped off and it was pleasant and
sunny on the
"Santiago,” the boy said.
"Yes, "the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking
of many years
"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
"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 sunburned, confident loving
"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
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
"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
"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. (the royal palm: a tall, graceful palm of southern Florida
and Cuba.)
"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. (bodega: a
grocery store.)
"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 baseball: The old man supports the Yankees of the
American League.)
"The Yankees cannot lose. "
"But I fear the Indians of Cleveland. "
"Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio.
" (the great
DiMaggio: Joe DiMaggio, a fisherman’s son, outfielder with the
Yankees from 1936 to 1951.)
"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. "(a terminal of the lottery:
Lottery tickets of various kinds are sold
openly in the Caribbean. Perhaps the old man refers to the last two
digits of a longer number.)
"We can do that,
the boy said. "But what about the eighty-seven of your great
"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
"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
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
"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. "
the old man said getting up and taking the newspaper and folding
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
“Black beans and rice, fried bananas, and some stew. "(black
beans and rice, fried bananas:
staple foods of the Caribbean islands.)
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
"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. (the village
water supply: a community tap or
"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. "(the other league: the National League, to
which the Brooklyn Dodgers and the
Philadelphia Phillies belonged.)(Dick Sisler: player for
Philadelphia from 1948 to 1951 and for other teams before
and after these years(His father, George Sisler, was a well-known
player for St.Louis and Boston.)
"There was nothing ever like them. He hits the longtest 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
“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.(the great John J. McGraw: manager of the New York
Giants from the early 1900 ’s to 1932.)
"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
manager."(Durocher: manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1940’s
and of the New York Giants from 1948
"Who is the greatest manager, really, Luque or Mike
Gonzalez?"(Luque: Adolfo Luque,
born in Havana in 1890, played until 1935 with Boston, Cincinnati,
Brooklyn, and the New York Giants. Mike
Gonzalez: manager of the St. Louis Cardinals, .)
"I think they are equal. "
"And the best fisherman is you. "
"No. I know others better. "
"Que va," the boy said. "There are many good fishermen and some
great ones. But
there is only you. "(Que va: A Spanish exclamation difficult to
translate----“What does it matter?”“What of
"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 harbors
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 arms across his shoulders and said,” I am
"Que va. "The boy said. "It is what a man must do."
They walked down the road to the old man's shack and all along
the road, in the
dark, barefoot men were moving, carrying the masts of their
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
"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.
the boy said. "Now I must get your sardines and mine and your
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. "
"1 know it,
the boy said. "I'll be right back. Have another coffee. We have
He walked off, barefooted 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
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 harbor 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
except for the dip of the oars. They spread apart after they were
out of the mouth of
the harbor 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
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 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
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
favors, 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
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.(albacore: the long-finned tunny.)
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.(These pages provide a
good example of Hemingway’s description from the point of view of
the fisherman.)
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
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
But, he thought, I keep them with precision. Only I have no luck
But who knows? Maybe today. Every day is a new day. It is better to
be lucky. But
I would rather be exact. (This is a favorite theme with Hemingway.)
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
backswept wings,
and then circled again.(man-of-war bird: a bird with a great
wingspread, also called frigate bird, it roams
the tropical seas, snatching fish and robbing smaller birds.)
"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 longwinged 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
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.(Portuguese man-of-war: a type of jellyfish.)
"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 colored 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.(agua mala: a fisherman’s
literally bad water.)
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.(carapaced: protected by the hard
upper shell.)
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 armor-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
"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
"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
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
stormbound 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 northeast. 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 annnulled now by the
high sun and it
was only the great deep prisms m 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
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
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
Just then, watching his lines, he saw one of the projecting
green sticks dip
"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
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
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
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
He did not take it though. He was gone and the old man felt
"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
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
''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 northwest.
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. "(the towing bitt: a post fastened in the deck to hold
a cable or rope.)
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 northwest.
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 unstepped mast and sail
and tried not to think
but only to endure.(the unstepped mast and sail: the sail and mast
that had been removed from the step,
which is the socket, frame, or platform for supporting the lower
end of a mast. Notice how the passing of time is
suggested.)
Then he looked behind him and saw that no land was visible. That
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
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
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
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
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?(This example of fidelity should be noted.
Immediately afterward, the theme of treachery
is introduced.)
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 color turned to a
color 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
"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
When once, through my treachery, it had been necessary to him to
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 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 all
that a man can ask.
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
There was yellow weed on the line but the old man knew that only
added drag and he was pleased. It was the yellow Gulf weed that had
made so much
phosphorescence in the night.
he said, “I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you
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
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
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
"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
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.
wedge-shaped strips and he cut them from next to the backbone 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
"What kind of a hand is that,” he said. "Cramp then if you want.
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
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
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
“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 is
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
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
September sky.
"Light brisa," he said. "Better weather for me than for you,
fish. "(brisa: breeze.)
His left hand was still cramped, but he was unknotting it
I hate a cramp, he thought. It is a treachery of one's own body.
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.(The distinction between humiliation, a form of
treachery, and humility, a form of
triumph, is important.)
If the boy were here he could rub it for me and loosen it down
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
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 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.(I must convince him: the word convince is used
perhaps with two meanings, persuade and
(At this point in the story the odds in the conflict are
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
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
Virgin 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
"I'll kill him though,” he said. "In all his greatness and his
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.
}