Материал: The Old Man and the Sea ( PDFDrive )

fishing with them. He comments to the boy that when he was the boy's age, he had already sailed to Africa and had seen the lions on the beach in the evening. The boy patiently tells the old man that he had already told the boy about Africa, and suggests that they continue talking about baseball. They talk about the greatest managers, and the boy suddenly comments that the old man is the greatest fisherman ever. The old man is happy for the compliment, and thanks the boy. The boy urges the old man to get some sleep for the following day, and the old man promises to wake the boy in the morning.

The old man falls asleep almost immediately. He dreams vividly however, not of women, or great occurrences, of fights or fish, but of Africa. He dreams of the Africa of his youth, of the hot white beaches, the high capes, the great brown mountains, and the lions on the beach. "They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy."

When he wakes, he pulls on his trousers and shivering with cold walks to the boy's house. He enters through the unlocked door, and gently touches the boy's foot to wake him. He sees the boy struggling against his boyish sleepiness, and apologizes softly.

They put the gear in their respective boats, and then drink coffee with condensed milk. The old man drinks his coffee slowly, as he knows it is all he will have until he returns from sea. Finally, they rise, wish each other good luck, and the old man sets off alone in his boat.

The old man has decided that he will stake the outer lying areas of the sea as his fishing grounds for the day, so he rows swiftly, with only the dipping of other fishermen's paddles in the water for company in the still dark early morning air. Soon even those sounds are gone as he pulls farther away than many will venture that day. The man-made sounds are replaced by the hissing of the flying fish hurling themselves through the air.

The old man rows steadily and when the sun begins to rise he finds that he is further out than he thought. He lets down his bait, one down forty fathoms, the second at seventy-five, the third at one hundred and the fourth at one hundred and twenty-five.

The old man sees a man-of-war bird circling in the sky close to his boat, an indication that there are fish close by. He sees flying fish jump out of the water, and thinks that there must be a dolphin chasing the flying fish that the man-of-war bird is eyeing. The dolphin chases the fish away from the boat, but soon after he sees that, the man-of-war bird has spotted some more fish. He catches an albacore tuna, which he can use as bait for larger fish. "He'll weigh ten pounds," he says aloud to himself.

He does not know how long he has been talking aloud to himself. He remembers that he used to sing aloud to himself when he worked on the turtle hunting boat, but thinks that he may have started talking to himself just since the boy had left. A tug on his line interrupts his musings. There is a fish eating his sardine bait, and he begins to pray and hope wildly that the fish will bite. The tugging stops for a moment, and then starts again moments later.

When he is satisfied that the fish has taken hold of the bait, he pulls hard on the line. The line does not give an inch, and it is stretched taut almost to breaking point. The fish begins to swim slowly, pulling the boat along with him. The old man wishes fervently for the boy, but is grateful that at least the fish is traveling parallel to the surface and not down. The old man thinks to him self that the pace will kill him, but four hours later, they are still traveling steadily northwestward. He feels strong, and is confident that he can outlast his adversary, although he wishes for a glimpse of the fish to know what he is facing. The fish keeps the same pace in the same direction all throughout the night. The old man drinks some water, changes position and urinates over the side of the boat, but apart from that does not move all his energy and attention focused on the fish at the other end of his line. He wishes again for the boy, and thinks briefly that no one should be alone in his or her old age. He reminds himself that in the morning he must eat the tuna he caught earlier in the day, for strength.

Before daylight, he feels another fish take the bait on one of his other lines. He cuts it swiftly, not wanting to take the risk that it would interfere with his fish. He makes the necessary adjustments of his line to ensure that it would not happen again. "Fish," he says, "I'll stay with you until I am dead." He tightens the line slightly, trying to force the fish to jump out of the water, enabling him to see his opponent and forcing the fish to fill his air sacks with air, ensuring that he would not swim down into the depths of the sea to die. However, the line is already tight to the point of breaking, and the old man eases up.

When daylight comes, he sees that the fish has not allowed him self to be turned by the current, but continues to swim northward steadily. "Fish," he vows aloud once again, trying to bring himself courage, "I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends."

A warbler comes and settles on the line, and the old man begins to talk to him. He is happy for the companionship, as his back is now causing him great pain. Suddenly the fish gives a mighty pull, almost tipping the old man overboard. The old man notices that his hand has been cut and his bird friend has flown away. "You're feeling it now, fish," says the old man, "and so, God knows, am I." He chides himself for allowing himself to be caught off guard, and reminds himself that he must eat the tuna before it begins to rot. He wishes once again for the boy. He sticks his hand in the ocean to wash the blood away, and notices by the flow of the water against his hand that the fish has slowed considerably.

He cuts his tuna into six slimy red pieces, throwing the rest of the carcass overboard. As he is cutting the tuna with his right hand, his left hand begins to cramp. He is disgusted with the betrayal of his own body. "What kind of a hand is that," he wonders aloud, angry. "Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good." He quickly forces down the tuna in an effort to bring strength back to his almost lifeless hand.

The hand continues to cramp, and he hopes fervently that when the sun comes out and when he digests his fish and the sun comes out his fingers will unfurl from their useless position. "I hate a cramp," he thinks. "It is the treachery of one's own body. It is humiliating before others to have a diarrhea from ptomaine poisoning or to vomit from it. But a cramp, he thought of it as a calambre, humiliates oneself especially when one is alone." He thinks repeatedly of the boy, and how he would rub the cramp out if he was there. Suddenly, he is startled out of his reverie, because the line begins to come up, and his great fish surfaces. "He came out unendingly and water poured from his sides. He was bright in the sun, and his head and back were dark purple and in the sun, the stripes on his sides showed wide and a light lavender. His sword was as long as a baseball bat and tapered like a rapier and he rose his full length from the water and then re-entered it, smoothly, like a diver."

After seeing the fish, he must come to grips with the fact that physically, he is no match for it, and that the only thing the old man has going for him is his intelligence and his willpower. Although he is not religious, he decides to say Hail Marys and Our Fathers to assist in his quest to conquer the fish. He feels better, and his hand by noon has uncramped. Although he is in extreme pain from being in the same position for so long, he is still lucid, and decides to re-bait one of his other lines to try to catch another fish to eat, in case the battle continues throughout the night.

When night falls once again, the old man remembers a tavern in Casablanca, when he arm-wrestled with the great Negro from Cienfuegos, who was reputed to be the strongest man on the docks. They wrestled for a full day and a full night, each trying to get the other's hand to the table. Blood oozed from the fingernails of each man's hand, and referees were changed every four hours. On the morning of the next day, the old man, who was then a young strong man, defeated the giant Negro athlete. From then on, he was called Santiago El Campeon, or The Champion, and when he was challenged to a return match in the spring, he had won it easily, "since he had broken the confidence of the Negro from Cienfuegos in the first match. After that, he had a few matches and then no more. He decided that he could beat anyone if he wanted to badly enough and he decided that it was bad for his right hand for fishing." He tried to

arm wrestle with his left hand a few times, but "his left hand had always been a traitor and would not do what he called on it to do and he did not trust it."

Just before dark, his line is taken by a dolphin. He brings it into the skiff with his left hand, and clubs it to death. He decides to wait until later to butcher the dolphin later, to save the blood in the meat.

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He assesses his situation and assets in comparison to the fish and is satisfied. Whereas the fish has had nothing to eat, he has eaten and has the dolphin that should last the night and next day. The cut on his right hand has closed, and his left hand has uncramped. The pain in his back worries him, but he does not have to pull a boat as the fish does. He speaks to the fish aloud, saying, "How do you feel fish? I feel good and my left hand is better and I have food for a night and a day. Pull the boat, fish."

He contemplates his next task, which is to create a permanent drag on the boat with his oars, thus making it more difficult for the fish to pull the boat. He decides to try to rest for a while, as he finds his thoughts wandering and his mind not sharp enough to make a decision and complete the chore.

He rests for a couple of hours, allowing the skiff to bear part of the weight of the fish pulling. He wishes he could tie the line to the skiff directly, but without the give of his body and hands against the line, the fish could break the line with one pull.

When he feels himself to be slightly more lucid, he works his way to the back of the boat. He guts the dolphin with his knife, finding two completely fresh flying fish inside the dolphin's stomach. He brings the dolphin meat, along with the flying fish, up to the front of the boat. He quickly eats half of one of the dolphin fillets, and a whole flying fish, and is pleased that he does not feel nauseated by his raw meal. He decides to allow himself some sleep while the fish is swimming calmly. He dreams vividly about a sea of porpoises mating, then of being in his village in bed. Finally, he