The Old Man and the Sea Page #2

I think they are all equal.

Sometime I would like to take

the great DiMaggio fishing.

They say his father was a fisherman.

Maybe he was poor like we are,

and he would understand.

You ought to go to bed so that

you'll be fresh in the morning.

I'll take these things back to the terrace.

- Good night. See you in the morning.

- You're my alarm clock.

Age is my alarm clock.

- Sleep well, old man.

- Thank you.

Good night.

The boy went out and the old man thought,

"Why do old men wake so early?

Is it to have one longer day?"

Then the old man rolled up his trousers

to make a pillow...

... putting the newspaper inside them.

He rolled himself in the blanket

and slept on the papers...

... that covered the springs of the bed.

He was asleep in a short time...

... and he dreamed of Africa,

when he was a boy.

He dreamed of the 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 with the morning.

Usually when he smelled

the land breeze, he woke up...

... and dressed to go to 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 island

rising to the sea...

... and 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,

and he loved them as he loved the boy.

He never dreamed about the boy.

In the dawn, the old man simply woke...

... looked out the door at the dying moon,

unrolled his trousers and put them on.

Then went down to wake the boy.

He was shivering with cold...

... but he knew that 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 room

and the old man could see him clearly.

He took hold of one foot gently

and held it until the boy woke...

... and turned and looked at him.

The boy was sleepy,

and the old man said, "I'm sorry."

"It is what a man must do,"

the boy answered.

They walked down the road,

and all along the road in the dark...

... barefoot men were moving,

carrying the masts of their boats.

How did you sleep?

Very well, Manolin. I feel confident today.

I do too.

I'll get the sardines. Be right back.

Have another cup. We have credit here.

The old man drank his coffee slowly.

It's all he'd 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.

Good luck, old man.

Good luck.

There were other boats going out to sea...

... and the old man heard

the dip and push of their oars.

In the dark, the old man could feel

the morning coming.

And as he rode, he heard the trembling

sound as flying fish left the water...

... and the hissing 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 in the ocean.

He was sorry for the birds,

especially the small, delicate, dark terns...

... that were always flying and looking

and almost never finding.

He thought, "The birds have

a harder life than we do...

... except for the robber birds

and the heavy, strong ones.

Why do they make birds so delicate and

fine when the ocean can be so cruel?

She is kind and very beautiful,

but she can be so cruel. "

The sun rose from the sea, and

the old man could see other boats...

... low on the water and well in toward

the shore, spread out across the current.

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 spoke of her

as a contestant or a place or an enemy...

... but the old man had always

thought of her as feminine...

... and as something that gave

or withheld great favors.

"The moon affects her as it does a woman,"

he thought.

Before it was light, he had his baits out

and was drifting with the current.

One bait was down 40 fathoms,

the second was at 75...

... and the third and fourth were down

in the blue water at 100 and 125 fathoms.

Then the sun was brighter and the glare

came on the water, and as it rose clear...

... the flat sea sent it back to his eyes

so it hurt sharply...

... and he rode without looking into it.

He looked down and watched the lines

that went down into the dark of the water.

Each bait hung head-down

with the shank of the hook inside...

... tight and sewed solid.

All of the projecting part of the hook...

... the curve and the point,

was covered with sardines...

... each sardine hooked through both eyes so

they made a garland of the projecting steel.

There was no part of the hook

that a fish could feel...

... that was not sweet-smelling

and good-tasting.

"I keep them with precision," he thought.

"Only, I have no luck anymore.

But who knows? Maybe today.

Every day is a new day.

It is better to be lucky,

but I would rather be exact.

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.

Just then he saw a man-o'-war bird.

He made a quick drop, slanting down on his

backswept wings, and then circled again.

He's not just looking.

He's found something.

You will make a beautiful bait.

He did not remember when he'd first started

to talk aloud when he was by himself.

In the old days, he had sung

at night when he was alone...

... steering on his watch on the turtle boats.

He had probably started to talk aloud,

when alone, when the boy had left...

... but he did not remember.

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 they could annoy.

"If the others heard me," he thought,

"they would think I am crazy.

But since I am not crazy, I do not care.

And the rich have radios to talk to them

on their boats, to bring them the baseball. "

Yes. Yes.

Then he felt something hard

and unbelievably heavy.

It was the weight of the fish...

... and he let the line slip

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