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Chapter 2 The old man began to row out of the harbor

in the dark. There were other boats from the other beaches going out to sea, and he heard

the sound of their oars on the water, even though he could not see them now, because the

moon was below the hills. Sometimes someone would speak in a boat. But most of the boats

were silent except for the sound 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

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.

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 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, and he thought, the birds have a harder life

than we do. Why do they make birds so delicate and fine when the ocean can be so cruel? He

always thought of the sea as La Mar, which is what people call her in Spanish when they

love her. Some of the younger fishermen 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 thought of

her as feminine, and as something that gave or withheld great favors. 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. Before it was really

light, he had his bait out and was going 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

125 fathoms. Each bait hung head down with the hook inside the baitfish, and the hook was

covered with fresh sardines. The boy had given him two fresh small tunas or albacores, which

hung on the two deepest lines, and on the others he had a big blue runner and a yellow jack.

Each line was looped into his stick, so that any pull or touch on the bait would make the

stick dip. Now the man watched the dip of the three sticks over the side of the skiff,

and rode gently to keep the lines straight up and down 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 spread out. Then the sun was brighter,

and as it rose the flat sea sent it back at his eyes so that it hurt sharply, and he rode

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 water there would be a bait for any fish that swam there. He thought, I keep

them with precision, only I have no luck anymore. But who knows? Maybe today. Every day

is a new day. It is better to be lucky. The sun was higher now. All my life the early

sun has hurt my eyes, he thought. Yet they are still good. Just then he saw a man of war

bird with his long black wings circling the sky ahead of him. He's got something, the

old man said aloud. He's not just looking. He rode slowly and steadily towards where the

bird was circling. He did not hurry, and he kept his lines straight. The bird went

higher in the air and circled again, his wings motionless. Then he dove suddenly, and

the old man saw a flying fish spurt out of the water and sailed desperately over the surface.

Dolphin, the old man said aloud. Big dolphin. He brought a small line from under the bow.

He baited it with one of the sardines. He let it go over the side. Then he baited another

line and left it under the bow. He went back to rowing and to watching the black bird.

As he watched, the bird dipped again, and swinging his wings wildly, 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. It is a big school of dolphin, he thought. The flying fish have

little chance. The bird has no chance. That school has gotten away from me, he thought.

They are moving too fast and too far. But perhaps I will pick up a stray one. My big

fish must be somewhere. The clouds now rose like mountains. The water was a dark blue now,

so dark that it was almost purple. He watched his lines to see them go straight down into

the water and he was happy to see a lot of plankton in the dark water because it meant fish.

The strange light the sun made in the water meant good weather and so did the shape of

the clouds over the land. But the bird was almost out of sight now, and there was nothing

he could see on the surface of the water, but the slimy and purple jellyfish. The old

man was mad at the sea. He cursed under his breath. He then looked down into the water

and saw the tiny fish that swam among the jellyfish. They were immune to its poison, but men

were not, and sometimes the jellyfish would get caught up on a line, and while the old

man was working a fish, he would have bruises on his arms and hands. The sparkling jellyfish

were beautiful, but they were the falsest thing in the sea, and the old man loved to see the

big turtle eating them. He loved green turtles with their elegance and speed, but he had

no mystical beliefs about turtles. He ate their white eggs to give himself strength.

He also drank a cup of shark liver oil each day. It was very good against all colds and

the flu, and it was good for the eyes. Now the old man looked up and saw that the bird

was circling again.

He's found fish, he said, allowed. 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. After he

had dropped back into the water, another rose, and then another, and they were jumping

in all directions. The bird is a great help, the old man said. Just then the line became

tense, and he dropped his oars. He felt the weight of the small tuna's pull as he held

the line firm. He pulled the fish over the side and into the boat. He lay there in the

sun with his big, unintelligent eyes staring as he jumped up and down for his life. The

old man hit him on the head for kindness.

Albacor, he said, allowed. He'll make a beautiful bait. He did not remember when he had first

started to talk aloud when he was by himself. He used to sing when he was by himself in the

old days, and he used to sing at night, sometimes when he was alone in his boat. He probably

started to talk aloud when alone, when the boy had left. When he and the boy fished together,

they usually spoke only when it was necessary. They talked at night, or when they had bad weather.

It was considered a virtue not to talk unnecessarily at sea, and the old man had always thought

so and respected it. But now he said his thoughts allowed many times, since there was no one

that they could annoy. But now is the time to think of only one thing, he thought. There

might be a big fish around that school. The tuna are working far out and fast. Everything

travels fast and to the northeast today. Can that be the time of day, or is it some sign

of weather that I don't know? He could not see the green of the shore now, but only the

tops of the hills and the clouds above them. The sea was very dark, and the light made

prisms in the water. The sun was hot now, and the old man felt it on the back of his

neck. Just then, as he was watching his lines, he saw one of the sticks dip sharply. Yes,

he said, yes, and reached out for the line and held it softly between the thumb and forefinger

of his right hand. Then it came again. This time it was not a heavy pull, and he knew

exactly what it was. Six hundred feet down, a marlin was eating the sardines that covered

the hook. This far out, he must be huge in this month, the old man thought. Eat them fish.

Eat them. Please eat them. Make another turn and come back and eat them. He felt the light

pulling, and then a harder pull. Then there was nothing. Come on, the old man said aloud.

Make another turn. Just smell them. Aren't they lovely? Eat them now, and then there is

the tuna. 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. Then came the same delicate

pulling touch again. He'll take it, the old man said aloud. God help him to take it. He

can't have gone, he said. He's making a turn. Maybe he has been hooked before, and he remembers

something about it. Then he felt the gentle touch on the line, and he was happy. He'll

take it, he said. Then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy. It was the weight

of the fish, and he let the line slip down, down, down. As it went down, slipping lightly

through the old man's fingers, he could feel the great weight.

What a fish, he said. He has its 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 in the dark sea with a tuna in his mouth. At that moment he felt him stop

moving, but the weight was still there. Then the weight increased. He tightened the pressure

of his thumb and finger for a moment, and the weight increased, and was going straight down.

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 fixed

the free end of the two reserve coils of the next line. Now he was ready.

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. Alright, are you ready?

Now he said aloud, and grabbed the line hard with both hands, pulled a yard of line, and then

grabbed it again and again, swinging with each arm alternately on the cord with all the

strength of his arms. Nothing happened. The fish just moved away slowly, and the old man

could not raise him an inch. His line was strong, and he held it against his back until it was

so firm 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. 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. I could fix the line, but then he could break it. I must

hold him the best I can and give him line when he must have it. Thank God he is travelling

and not going down. He held the line against his back and watched it move in the water,

and the boat 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 boat, and the old man was still holding the line solidly 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 pull on the line,

he reached the water bottle with one hand. He opened it and drank a little. Then he rested

against the bow. He tried not to think, but only to endure. Then he looked behind him and

saw that no land was visible. That makes no difference, he thought. 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. He is the one with the hook in his mouth. But what

a fish to pull like that. I wish I could see him only once to know what I have against me.