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 84 days now

without taking a fish.

In the first 40 days,

a boy had been with him.

But after 40 days without a fish

the boy's parents 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.

The old man had taught the boy to fish,

and the boy loved him.

The old man was gray and wrinkled,

with deep furrows in the back of his neck...

... and his hands had the deep, creased scars

from handling heavy fish on the cords.

But none of these scars were fresh.

They were as old as erosions

in a fishless desert.

Everything about him was old,

except his eyes.

And they were the same color as the sea,

were cheerful and undefeated.

It made the boy sad to see the old man

come in each day with his skiff empty.

He always went down to help him carry

the lines, 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.

No one would steal

from the old man...

... but it's better to take

the sail and lines home...

... as the dew was bad for them.

Though he was sure no

local people would steal...

... the old man thought

a gaff and a harpoon...

... were needless temptations

to leave in a boat.

The successful fishermen were already in

and had butchered their marlin out...

... carried them laid full-length

across two planks to the fish house...

... where they waited for the ice truck

to carry them to the market in Havana.

"Can I offer you a beer on the terrace?"

The boy asked.

"Why not?" the old man said.

"Between fisherman."

Two beers, Martin. Please.

They sat on the terrace and many

fishermen made fun of the old man.

But he was not angry.

He did not remember

when he had attained humility...

... but he knew he had attained it...

... and he knew it was not disgraceful

and it carried no true loss of pride.

Some of the older fishermen

looked at him and were sad...

... but they did not show it.

They spoke about the currents...

... and the depths they'd

drifted their lines at...

... and the steady, good weather

and of what they had seen.

- Santiago.

- Yes?

Can I go and get the sardines

for you tomorrow?

Oh, no. No.

You play ball. I can still row,

and I can still throw the net.

I know where I can get four fresh baits.

I still have mine from today.

Let me get four fresh ones.

- One.

- Two.

Two.

- You didn't steal them, did you?

- I would, but I bought these.

Thank you.

If I cannot fish with you,

I'd like to serve in some way.

You bought me a beer.

You are already a man.

They walked up the road together.

The old man stood the mast

outside his shack.

In the old man's shack,

there was a bed, a table, chairs...

... and a place to cook with charcoal.

On the brown walls, 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.

It was on the shelf in the corner,

under his clean shirt.

Tomorrow is the 85th day.

Eighty-five is a lucky number.

How'd you like to see me bring one in

that dressed out over a thousand pounds?

Are you strong enough now

for a truly big fish?

I think so.

And there are many tricks.

Santiago, I could go with you again.

We've made enough money.

No, no. You are in a lucky boat.

You stay with them.

Remember how long we went

without fish before?

Then we caught big ones every day

for three weeks.

I remember.

I know you did not leave me

because you lost confidence.

It was my papa made me leave.

I am a boy and I must obey him.

Of course, of course.

It is quite normal.

He hasn't much faith.

- But we have, haven't we?

- Yes.

If you were my boy,

I would take you out again.

But you are your father's and your mother's,

and you are in a lucky boat.

What do you have to eat?

I have a pot of yellow rice and some fish.

Would you like some?

No. I'll eat at home.

- May I take the cast net?

- Of course.

I have yesterday's newspaper.

I will read the baseball.

There was no cast net. 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.

He didn't know whether yesterday's paper

was a fiction too.

The old man brought it out

from under the bed.

Keep warm, old man.

Sit in the sun.

Remember, we're in September.

The month of the big fish.

Anybody can be a fisherman in May.

I'll be back when I get the sardines.

Then you can tell me about the baseball.

- Hey, Manolin, come on.

- Play first base.

Hey, yeah. Come on.

- Manolin.

- A dinner for two, please. To take out.

You don't eat at home anymore?

- How much do you have to spend?

- Sixty cents.

No luck yet, huh?

You know, maybe it's not luck at all.

Maybe he's too old.

He's not too old. You'll see.

- I said, maybe.

- Not even maybe.

All right.

I only hope when I'm an old man

I have a boy to fish for me.

When the boy came back,

the old man was asleep in a chair...

... and the sun was going down.

His shoulders were still powerful,

although very old.

The neck was still strong too.

The creases did not show so much

when the old man was asleep.

His head was very old, though.

And with his eyes closed,

there was no life in his face.

Wake up, old man.

The old man opened his eyes,

and for a long moment...

... he was coming back

from a long way away.

Then he smiled.

What have you got?

- We're gonna have supper.

- I'm not very hungry.

Come on and eat.

You can't fish and not eat.

I have.

You won't fish without eating

while I'm alive.

Well, then you live a long time

and take good care of yourself.

Who...? Who gave this to you?

Martin. At the terrace.

Well...

...I must be sure and thank him.

I thanked him already.

You don't need to thank him.

They had eaten with no light on the table,

and it was dark now.

The old man had talked to the boy

about baseball as always.

About the great DiMaggio

and how he was himself again...

... and about the other men on the team.

Tell me about the great John J. McGraw.

He used to come to the terrace sometimes...

...in the olden days too.

His mind was on the horses, I think,

as much as it was on the baseball.

At least he used to carry lists

of horses in his pocket at all times.

And frequently, he would speak

the names of horses on the telephone.

He was a great manager.

My father thinks he was the greatest.

That's because he came here

the most times.

If Durocher had continued coming here...

...your father would think

he was the greatest manager.

Who is the greatest manager, really?

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