chapter6-page_66-70

6. He could see the lights of the beach along the shore. He knew where he was now, and home

was not far. The wind is our friend, he thought. Then he added, sometimes, and the great sea

with our friends and our enemies. And bed, he thought.

7. Bed is my friend. Just bed, he thought. Bed will be a great thing. He sailed into the

little harbor. He knew everyone was in bed. He sailed up onto the little patch of sand

below the rocks. There was no one to help him, so he pulled the boat as far as he could.

Then he stepped out and tied it to a rock. He took the mast down, put it on his shoulder,

and started to climb. It was then that he knew how tired he was. He stopped for a moment and

looked back, and saw in the streetlight the skeleton of the great fish. When he arrived at his shack,

he leaned the mast against a wall. In the dark he found a water bottle and took a drink.

Then he lay down on the bed. He pulled the blanket over and slept face down on the newspapers.

He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning. The boy saw that the old man

was breathing, and then he saw the old man's hands and he started to cry. He went out very

quietly to bring some coffee, and all the way down the road he was crying. Many fishermen

were around the skiff, looking at what was tied beside it. One was in the water, measuring

the skeleton. How is he? One of the fishermen shouted at the boy, sleeping, the boy called,

let no one disturb him. The fish was eighteen feet from nose to tail, the fisherman who

was measuring him called. I believe it, the boy said. He went to the terrace and asked

for some hot coffee with milk and sugar.

What a fish it was, the owner said. There never has been such a fish.

Tell them not to bother Santiago, the boy said. I'll be back. The boy went back to the

shack, but the old man was sleeping heavily. Finally, he woke up.

Don't sit up, the boy said. Drink this. He poured some of the coffee in a glass. The old

man took it and drank it. They beat me, Manolin, he said. They truly beat me. He didn't beat

me. Of course, with coast guard and with planes. The ocean is very big, and a skiff

is small and hard to see, the old man said. He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone

to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea.

I missed you, he said. What did you catch? One the first day, one the second, and two the

third. Very good. Now we fish together again. No, I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore.

I don't care, the boy said. I'll bring the luck with me. What will your family say? I

do not care. I caught two yesterday. But we will fish together now, for I still have

much to learn. We must get a good killing -lance and always have it on the boat. You can make

the blade. It should be sharp and strong. My knife broke. I'll get another knife. I

will have everything in order, the boy said. You get your hands well, old man. I know how

to care for them. In the night I spat something strange and felt something in my chest was broken.

Get that well, too, the boy said. Lie down, and I will bring you your clean shirt and

something to eat. Bring any of the papers of the time that I was gone, the old man said.

You must get well fast, for there is much that I can learn, and you can teach me everything.

How much did you suffer? Plenty, the old man said. I'll bring the food and the papers, the boy

said. Rest well, old man. I will bring stuff from the drug store for your hands. As the boy

went out the door and down the road, he was crying again. That afternoon in his shack, the old man

was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face, and the boy was sitting by him, watching him.

The old man was dreaming about lions.