THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA

He was an old man fishing alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream, and he was gone now eighty-four days without fish. For the first forty days she had her son with her. But after 40 days without fish, the boy's parents told him that the old man was now absolutely and finally salao, which is the worst form of misfortune, and the boy was gone of his order in another boat that caught three good fish in the first week. It did the boy sad seeing that the old man comes every day empty and he always went down to help him carry either the spiral line or the line and harpoon and that sail was wrapped around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and appeared when it was turned as a ticket to permanent defeat. The old man was thin and emaciated, with deep wrinkles on his neck. The the brown spots of benign skin cancer, which the sun brings [9] from its reflection the tropical sea was on his cheeks. The spots flowed well down the sides of her face and onto her face the hands were left with deep furrowed scars on the lines of handling heavy fish. But nothing those scars were fresh. They were as old as the erosions in the fishless desert. Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color to the sea and were happy and invincible. "Santiago," the boy told him as they climbed onto the shore where the skiff was lifted up "I could go with you again. We made some money." The old man taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him. "No," said the old man. "You're on the lucky boat. Stay with them." “But you remember how you were eighty-seven days without fish and then we got a big catch one every day for three weeks." "I remember," said the old man. "I know you didn't leave me because you doubted." "It was my father who made me go. I am a boy and I must obey him." "I know," said the old man. "It's completely normal." "He doesn't have much faith." [10] "No," said the old man. “But we have. Aren't we?" "Yes," said the boy. “Shall I get you a beer on the Terrace and then we'll get the stuff Home." "Why not?" said the old man. "Among the fishermen." They sat on the Terrace and many fishermen made fun of the old man and him was angry The others, older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did did not show it, and they spoke politely of the current and the depth to which they drifted their lines and the consistently good weather and what they saw. Successful the fishermen of the day were already in and killed their marlins and carried they landed full length across two planks, and two men swung at the end of each plank, to the fish house where they were waiting for the ice truck to take them to market Havana. Those who caught the sharks took them to the shark factory half in the bay, where they were raised to the block and gear, their liver was removed, their the fins are cut and their skin is removed and the meat is cut into strips for salting. When the wind blew from the east, the stench spread into the harbor factory; but today [11] there was only a faint edge of smell due to the wind backed up north and then fell and it was nice and sunny on the patio. "Santiago," said the boy. "Yes," said the old man. He held his glass and thought of years ago. "Can I have sardines for you tomorrow?" "No. Go play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio throws in the net." "I'd like to go. If I can't fish with you. I'd like to serve in some way." "You bought me a beer," said the old man. "You're already a man." "How old was I when you first took me on a boat?" “Quin and you almost died when I brought the fish too green and he almost tore the boat apart. Do you remember?" “I remember the tail flapping and flapping and the jamming breaking and that the noise of the clubs. I remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet rolled the lines were and I could feel the vibration and noise of the whole boat when you hit her wood has fallen and sweet blood stinks over me." [12] "Do you really remember that or did I tell you that?" "I remember everything from when we first met." The old man looked at him with sunburnt, trusting, loving eyes. "If you were my son, I'd take you out to play," he said. “But you are your father both your mother and you are in the lucky boat." "Can I get a sardine? I also know where I can get four baits." "I have leftovers from today. I put them in a box with salt." "Let me get four new ones." "One," said the old man. His hope and confidence were never lost. But now they were refreshing like a rising wind. "Two," said the boy. "Two," agreed the old man. "Didn't you steal them?" "I would," said the boy. "But I bought them." "Thank you," said the old man. He was too simple to think of him when he arrived humility But he [13] knew that he had achieved it, and knew that it was not shameful did not lose true pride. "Tomorrow will be a good day with this current," he said. "Where are you going?" asked the boy. "Far away when the wind changes. I want to be out before it's light." "I'm trying to get him to work at a distance," said the boy. "When you really like something great, we can help you." "He doesn't want to work too far." "No," said the boy. “But I can see something he can't, like a bird work and get he comes out after the dolphins." "Are his eyes that bad?" "He's almost blind." "It's strange,” said the old man. “He was never used to handling a turtle. It kills the eyes." "But you've been dealing with turtles on the Mosquito Coast for years, and your eyes are good." "I'm a Weird Old Man" "But are you strong enough for a really big fish now?" "I think so. And there are many tricks." [14] "Let's take the things home," said the boy. “So I can pick up the net and go after it sardines." They took equipment from the boat. The old man carried a mast on his shoulder and the boy carried a brown-lined wooden boat with a twisted hard surface, a gaff and according to it like a harp. The bait box was under the stern of the skiff also a hammer used to subdue large fish when brought in next to No one stole from the old man, but it was better to take sails and sails tight lines at home because the sauce made them bad and although he was pretty sure not a local people steal from him, thought the old man, the mask and the harpoon vain temptations to go to the boat. They walked together along the path to the old man's cabin and entered through it open door The old man leaned the mast with his furled sail against the wall and the boy put aside the box and other equipment. The mast was almost as long as a room from the cottage. The lodge was made of the strong bud shields of the royal palm, which is it was called guano and had a bed, a table, one chair and a seat on the floor cook with coal. The brown walls are leveled, the overlapping leaves are strong fibrous [15] guano was a colored image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another Copper virgin. These were the remains of his wife. Once there was nuanced the photo of his wife on the wall, but he took it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on a shelf in the corner under a clean shirt. "What do you have to eat?" asked the boy. "A bowl of yellow rice with fish. Do you want anything?" "No. I'm eating at home. Do you want me to turn on the light?" "No. I'll do it later. Or I can eat the rice cold." "Can I have a throwing net?" "Of course." There was no net and the boy remembered when they sold it. But they went through this fiction every day. There was no yellow rice and no fish, and the boy knew it too. "Eighty-five is a lucky number," said the old man. “How would you like to see me that wore more than a thousand pounds?" "I'll take the throwing net and go sardines Are you sitting out of doors in the sun?" [16] “Yes. I have yesterday's paper and I'm going to read baseball.” Boy no to find out if yesterday's newspaper was also fiction. But the old man brought it up under the bed "Perico gave it to me at the bodega," he explained. “I'll be back when I can sardines I'll keep yours and mine together on ice and we can split them in the morning. When I get back you can tell me about baseball. "The Yankees can't lose." "But I fear the Cleveland Indians." "Believe in the Yankees my son. Think mighty DiMaggio." "I fear both the Detroit Tigers and the Cleveland Indians." “Be careful, or you will fear even the red and whites of Cincinnati in Chicago." "You learn it and tell me when I get back." "Do you think we should buy a lottery terminal for 85? Tomorrow is day eighty-five." "We can do that," said the boy. "But what about eighty-seven. your great record?" [17] "It couldn't happen twice. Do you think you can find eighty-five?" “I can order one. "One page. That's two and a half dollars. Who can we borrow it from?" "It's easy. I can always borrow two and a half dollars." "I think maybe I can. But I try not to borrow. First the loans. Then you ask." "Keep warm old man," said the boy. "Remember we're in September." "The month when the big fish comes," said the old man. “Anyone can be a fisherman in corn." "I'll take the sardines now," said the boy. When the boy returned, the old man was asleep on the chair and the sun was setting. The boy took an old military blanket from the bed and spread it over the back of the chair and over the old man's shoulders. They were strange shoulders, still strong, though good old, and the neck was still strong and the wrinkles did not look so old the man slept with his head bent forward. His shirt was patched so many times that it was like a sail, and the spots faded in the sun into many different shades. [18] However, the head of the old man was very old and there was no life in it with his eyes closed his face The newspaper lay in his lap, the weight of his hand holding it there evening wind He was barefoot. The boy left him there and when he returned the old man was still asleep. "Wake up, old man," said the boy, placing his hand on one of the old men's knees. The old man opened his eyes and came back from afar for a moment outside Then he smiled. "What do you have?" he asked. "Dinner," said the boy. "We're going to have dinner." "I'm not very hungry." "Come eat. You can't fish and not eat." "I am," said the old man, standing up, taking the newspaper and folding it up. Then she began to fold the blanket. "Keep the blanket around you," said the boy. “You don't try not to eat fish when I am alive." "So live long and take care of yourself," said the old man. “What we are eat?" "Black beans and rice, fried plantains and stew." [19] The boy brought them from Teras in a two-story metal container. He had two knives, a fork and a spoon in his pocket on a paper napkin wrapped around each set. "Who gave it to you?" "Martin. Owner." "I have him to thank." "I already thanked him," said the boy. "You don't have to thank him." "I will give him the belly of a great fish," said the old man. “Did he do it for us more than once?" "I think so." "I have to give him more than belly meat. He's very thoughtful United States." "He sent two beers." "I like beer best in cans." "I know. But it's in bottles, Hatuey's ale, and I'll take the bottles back." "That is very kind of you," said the old man. "Shall we eat?" "I asked you," the boy told him gently. “I didn't want to open agree until you are ready." [20] "I am ready now," said the old man. "I just needed wash time." where did you wash thought the boy. The water conduit of the village was two streets long on the way I must have water here for him, thought the boy, and soap and goodies towel Why am I so thoughtless? I have to get him another shirt and jacket for the winter and some shoes and another blanket. "Your cooking is excellent," said the old man. "Tell me about baseball," the boy asked him. "There are Yankees in the American League, as I said," said the old man cheerfully. "They lost today," the boy told him. "It means nothing. Big DiMaggio is himself again." "They have other guys on the team." "Of course. But he makes a difference. In the second league, Brooklyn and Philadelphia I must take Brooklyn. But then I think of d**k Sisler and those great rides In the old park." "There's never been anything like them. He hits the longest ball I've ever seen." "Do you remember when he came to the Terrace?" [21] “I wanted to take him fishing, but I was too shy to ask him. Then I asked you ask him and you were too cowardly.” “I know. It was a huge mistake. He could go with us Then we'd have it for life." "I'd like to take a great one DiMaggio fishes," said the old man. "They say his father was a fisherman. Maybe he was as poor as we are and could understand." "Big Sisler's father was never poor and he, dad, played in the big leagues when I was my age.” “If I were yours age I was at the masthead in a square rigging going to Africa and I I saw lions on the beaches at night." "I know. You told me." "Should we talk about Africa or baseball?" "I think baseball," said the boy. "Tell me about the great John J. McGraw." He said Who J. "He once went to the terrace. But he was tough and loud and heavy when he drank. His mind was also on horses baseball At least he carried horse lists [22] always in his pocket and often said the names of the horses on the phone." "He was a great manager," the son said. "My father thought he was the greatest." "Because he came here the most," said the old man. “If Durocher had been continued to come here every year, your father considered him the best leader.” "Who is the better manager, Luque or Mike Gonzalez?" "I think they are equal." "And the best fisherman is you." "No. I know others better." "King Va," said the boy. "There are many good fishermen and some great ones. But it's just you." "Thank you. You make me happy. I hope no fish grows as big as her prove us wrong." "There is no such fish if you are still as strong as you say." "Maybe I'm not as strong as I think," said the old man. “But I know a lot of tricks and I there is a solution.” “You should go to bed now so you can be fresh in the morning. me take the things back to the Terrace." [23] "Good night. I'll wake you up in the morning." "You are my alarm clock," said the boy. "Age is my alarm clock," said the old man. "Why do old people wake up so early? is it do you have a longer day?" "I don't know," said the boy. "All I know is that young boys sleep late and hard." "I remember that," said the old man. "I'll wake you up in time." "I don't like him waking me up. I feel like I've had worse." "I know." "Sleep well old man." The boy went out. They ate without fire on the table and the old man left pants and went to sleep in the dark. He rolled up his pants to make a pillow, putting newspaper inside them. He wrapped himself in a blanket and slept on it other bed springs are covered with old newspapers. He fell asleep soon and dreamed of Africa when he was a boy long golden beaches and white beaches so white they hurt the eyes and high capes and big brown mountains. He lived on this coast every night now and inside in his dreams he heard the roar of the surf and saw the native boats [24] passing by. He could smell the tar on the deck and the oak as he slept and the smell of Africa which the earth wind brought in the morning. He usually woke up smelling the field wind and dressed to wake up son But tonight he felt the earth wind very early and he knew it was too early slept and continued to sleep to see the white peaks of the islands rise to the sea and then he dreamed of the various ports and roads of the Canary Islands. He no longer dreamed of storms, women, great events and nothing big fish, no fight, no power struggle, no his wife. He only dreamed of places now and about the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the twilight, and he loved how she loved the boy. She never dreamed of a boy. He just woke up, looked out opened the door to the moon and opened his pants and put them on. He urinated out of the living room and then went down the road to wake the boy. She shuddered morning chill But he knew he was shivering hot and soon rowing The door of the house where the boy lived was open and he opened it and entered quietly [25] with bare feet. The boy slept in a cot in the first room and the old man saw him clearly by the light that came from the dying moon. He lightly grabbed one leg and held it until the boy woke up and looked at him. The old man nodded and the boy took his pants from the chair next to the bed and sat down on the bed, pulled them on. The old man went out the door and the boy followed him. He was sleepy and the old man put his hands on his shoulders and said, "I'm sorry." "Qua Va," said the boy. "That's a man's job." They walked along the road to the old man's cabin, and all the way in the dark, barefoot men carried the masts of their boats. When they reached the old man's cabin, the boy took the rolls of fishing line into a basket and a harpoon and a mask and an old man carried the mast with his furled sail shoulder "Do you want some coffee?" asked the boy. "We'll put the equipment on the boat and then pick it up." They drank coffee from cans of condensed milk at the early morning service station fishermen "How did you sleep old man?" asked the boy. He [26] now awoke, though it was he still had trouble waking up. "Okay, Manolin," said the old man. "I'm sure today." "Me too," said the boy. “Now I have to get your sardines and mine and your fresh bait. He brings our equipment himself. He never wants anyone to wear anything." "We are different," said the old man. “I let you wear things when you were five old." "I know that," said the boy. "I'll be right back. Get another coffee. We've got credit here." He walked barefoot on coral rocks to the ice rink where the baits were saved The old man slowly drank his coffee. It was all he would have all day and he knew it for him to take it. He was bored for a long time with eating, and he never wore a lunch He had a water bottle in the bow of the skiff and that was all he needed during the day. The boy now returned with sardines and two baits wrapped in newspaper and they went along the road to the skiff, feeling the sand under their feet and lifted the crew and slid her into the water. [27] "Congratulations old man." "Congratulations," said the old man. He put the oar lines in the hole sticks, and leaning forward against the thrust of the paddles in the water, he began to row from a port in the dark. Other boats left from other shores out to sea, and the old man heard the shaking and thrusting of their oars, though he could not see for them the moon was now under the hills. Sometimes someone in the boat spoke. But most of the boats were silent, except to dip the oars. Leaving the mouth of the harbor they separated and each one headed for the sea, where he hoped to find fish. Old man knowing he was going far, he left the scent of the earth behind and paddled out clean early morning smell of the sea. He saw the phosphorescence of the Persian Gulf water as he paddled across that part of the ocean which the fishermen called the Great Well for suddenly there were seven hundred fathoms with all kinds of fish crowded against the steep walls of the floor of the vortex of the flow the ocean Here there were concentrations and sometimes schools of shrimp and bait fish squid from the deepest holes and they came near the surface at night where all they are fed by migrating fish. In the darkness the old man felt the approach of dawn, and as he paddled he heard it the shudder of flying fish as they leave the water and the hiss of their stiff wings as they rose in the dark. He was very fond of flying fish because they were his the most important friends on the sea. He felt sorry for the birds, especially the sensitive little one dark sparrows that always flew and looked and did not find, and he thought: birds have a harder life than us, except for raptors and heavy storks one Why did they make the birds so delicate and fine as the sea swallows the ocean? can it be so cruel? She is kind and very beautiful. But he can be so cruel and that's how it comes suddenly, and such birds that fly and dive and hunt, with their sad voices too soft for the sea. He always called the sea the sea, which is how people call him in Spanish when they love him. Sometimes those who love him say bad things about him, but they always do said as if she were a woman. Some of the younger anglers using buoys as a float of fishing lines and had motor boats, bought [29] when the liver of the shark was on. brought much money, spoke of him as from mar, which is male. They talked about him a a competitor or a place or even an enemy. But the old man always thought of him as such female and something that did great favors or refused it, and when he did wild or the bad things were because he could not help them. The moon affects him as well as a a woman, he thought. He rowed hard and it didn't cause him any problems because he held his own speed and the surface of the ocean was flat except for the occasional eddies of the current. He let the current do a third of the work, and when it began to become light, he saw her was already further than he hoped to be at the moment. I worked in deep holes for a week and did nothing, he thought. I'm working out today where are schools of Bonito and albacore and maybe they will grow. Before it was completely light, he was off bait and drifting with the current. One bait there were less than forty clafras. The second was seventy-five, and the third and fourth were below in blue water one [30] one hundred and twenty five reasons. Everyone fed hanging head with hook shank down inside baitfish, tied and stitched. all the prominent parts of the hook, the curve and the tip, were covered with fresh sardines Each sardine was hooked through both eyes so they made half a wreath protruding steel. There was no part of the hook that a big fish could tell what it was not sweet smell and good taste. The boy gave him two fresh small tunas, or albacore tunas, which depended on both the deepest lines like collapse and in others he had a big blue runner and yellow a jacket that was previously worn; but they were still fit and were large sardines to give them a smell and attractiveness. Each row, about as thick as a a large pencil, fixed with a green juicy stick, so that every stroke or touch was inserted would make a stick, and each line had two turns of forty fathoms that could be made attached to other spare reels so that the fish can get more than three if necessary a hundred klafon line. Now the man watched the three sticks fall to the side of the skiff and rowed being careful to keep the [31] lines straight up and down and at the right depth. It was completely light and whenever the sun rises. The sun rose from the thin sea and the old man saw other boats in the shallows in the water and deep to the shore, spreading across the stream. Then the sun came out it brightened and the glow came into the water, and then as it brightened, the flat sea sent it back into his eyes so that it hurt sharply, and he rowed in spite of that. He looked down into the water and watched the lines go straight into the darkness of the water. He kept them straighter than anyone else, so on every level in the dark Where there would be bait waiting right where he wanted it for the fish swim there Others let them go with the flow and were sometimes in their sixties for reasons when the fishermen thought they were a hundred. But he thought I held them tight. Only I am unhappy. But who you know Maybe today. Every day is a new day. It's better to be lucky. But rather be precise When fate comes, everything is done. The sun was now two hours higher, and it [32] did not hurt his eyes so much to look at in the east Only three boats were now visible, and they were very low and far away by the sea All my life the sun has damaged my eyes, he thought. They are good though. In the year in the evening I can look at it directly without it getting dark. It has more power in the evening too. But it hurts in the morning. Just then he saw a warrior with long black wings in the sky in front of him. He quickly descended, leaning on the wings sweeping his back and then toured again. "He has something," the old man said aloud. "He just doesn't look it." He paddled slowly and steadily towards the bird to circle. He was in no hurry and he kept his lines straight up and down. But he accumulated streams a little so that he still tried correctly, though faster than it would have if it hadn't tried use the bird. The bird rose higher into the air and circled its wings motionless again. Then he cumbed suddenly the old man saw a flying fish leaping out of the water and desperately sailing across to the surface [33] "Dolphin," the old man said aloud. "The big dolphin." He sent the oars and fetched a small rope from under the bow. It had a thread leader and middle hook and he baited it with one sardine. He let it go over the side and then attach it to the rear tire bolt. Then he fed another line and left this spring shadow crooked. He came back to row and watch a long-winged black bird that now worked low over the water. As he watched the bird dive again, its wings bent to dive, and then swinging them wildly and ineffectively as they follow the flying fish.