Материал: The Old Man and the Sea ( PDFDrive )

dreams again of the golden beaches and of the lions.

When the moon is high in the sky he wakes suddenly to the line running quickly through his right hand. He gropes with his left hand, and finally finds the line, but is unable to completely stop the line from feeding through his cut hands. The fish leaps out of the water, and falls back with a splash. The first jump had thrown the old man off balance, and he is now lying face down in the remains of the dolphin. The fish continues to jump as he lies, immobile, thinking that he must make the fish pay for the line he is gaining, holding tight to the line. As the line cuts deeply into his hands, the old man wishes fervently once again that the boy was there to help him battle the great fish.

The old man regains his footing, and is able to hold the line more easily. He feels more confident, knowing that the fish has now filled his sacks with air, and cannot plunge into the depths of the sea, which would make it impossible for the old man to bring the fish up again. He wonders what made the fish jump so suddenly after swimming so steadily for so long. He thinks that perhaps the fish suddenly felt his mortality, and recognizes once again that he himself must be at his strongest and most confident to beat this great fish.

He washes the dolphin smell from his face, afraid that it will nauseate him and make him weak. He assesses the damage done to his hands, and plunges his right hand, which has been cut badly by the line, into the water. He leaves it there for some time, allowing the salt to close his cuts. He then does the same with his left hand, talking to it all the while. "You did not do so badly for something worthless. But there was a moment when I could not find you…If he cramps again let the line cut him off." He thinks to himself that he must eat the dolphin, as his thoughts are becoming addled. He decides that the nausea it would cause him would be worse that the addled thoughts, but manages to eat the flying fish instead. Now he is ready and waits for the fish to start circling and the real fight to begin.

As the sun begins to rise for the third time since he set out, the fish starts to circle. The old man takes in line slowly but steadily. He thinks that the circle should be sufficiently shortened for him to be able to see the fish within one hour. Two hours later, the fish is still circling widely, and the old man is deeply tired. He promises up a hundred Hail Marys and a hundred Our Fathers. "Consider them said," he thinks, "I'll say them later."

He suddenly feels the line jerk strongly. It is the fish hitting the line with his tail, and the old man hopes that the fish does not shake the hook from his mouth. The old man assures himself that he can outlast the fish. He rest as the fish circles on the far side of the boat, then reels him in as he circles on the near side. He acknowledges that he is more tired than he has ever been, but tries to convince himself that he will survive. On the third turn, the fish is close enough for him to see. At first, he is sure he is not seeing the fish, it was certainly too big, and then he realizes that it is indeed his fish, huge and lavender, with a tail like a scythe blade. The man begins to sweat from anticipation and excitement certain that in two turns more he will be close enough to harpoon him. He tries to turn the fish on the next circle, and the fish turns slightly then rights himself. The same thing happens on the next circle, and the old man says aloud, "Fish, you are going to have to die anyway. Do you have to kill me too?"

His thoughts begin to get hazy, his hands have long since turned to mush and he can only see well in flashes. The fish continues to turn in wide circles. During each circle, the man tries to turn the fish, and each time it is the same. The old man is finally at the point of complete exhaustion and delirium, and knows he has only one more strong pull in him. He summons all his might, and gives one last pull. The fish, exhausted, is pulled onto his side. The old man quickly steps on the line and picks up his harpoon. He holds it high over his head, and brings it down into the belly of the great fish. The fish comes alive, jumping out of the water, and then landing heavily with a splash that drenches the old man, reviving him slightly, along with the adrenalin of knowing that the final fight has arrived.

Finally the fish lies still in the water, beaten. The old man is beyond weariness, but knows he must finish the work he has begun. The tasks that lie ahead of him are to noose the fish and strap him to the side of his skiff, because the boat would never hold the weight of such a fish, and then to raise the sail and set out for shore. That done he is able to concentrate on nourishing and hydrating his body for the long ride home. He is able to catch some small shrimps, and chews and swallows them down quickly, along with one quarter of his remaining water.

The old man continually looks at his prize, as they sail together towards shore, to reassure him self that it is real, and not a dream, like his lions. They are sailing well, with a good breeze behind them. They sail for an hour before the first shark attacks the fish. The old man's head is instantly clear and his senses are alert as he reaches for his harpoon to defend his prize. He hits the shark squarely and determinedly between the eyes. He aims to kill, and is successful, but so large is the shark that he takes the harpoon down with him when he begins to sink down into the icy depths. Although the shark seems to have taken about 40 pounds of meat from the fish, the old man is proud that he has defended his fish so well. He realizes however, that there will be others.

To re-arm himself, the old man takes his knife from its sheath and straps it firmly to one of his oars. He thinks to himself that they will sail homeward faster now for the loss of 40 pounds of meat, and is once again hopeful. Armed and full of hope he awaits the next onslaught. While he waits, he pulls some meat from the fish where the shark had bitten and eats it. He notes the high quality of the meat and guesses that it would bring the highest price at the market.

Two hours later more sharks have caught the scent of the great fish. They are two shovel-nosed sharks, a hateful species to the old man, foul-smelling scavengers. The first one is easily speared in the head with the knife, and sinks down into the water. The second one is more difficult, as he has chosen to feast on the underbelly of the fish, away from the range of the old man's spear. The old man quickly maneuvers the boat to expose the shark, and spears him. The first spear does no damage, but he

spears a second, third and fourth time, and finally the shark is dead. He speaks aloud to the fish. "They must have taken a quarter of him, and of the best meat. I wish it were a dream and that I had never hooked him. I am sorry about it, fish."

The next shark to come was another shovel-nosed shark. The old man let him take a bite of the fish, and then speared him. The hit was effective, but as the shark jerked back the knife snapped, leaving the old man and his fish defenseless in the open water. The old man goes back to steering without taking the satisfaction to watch the predator sink down into the water. He makes a mental note of the potential weapons he has to defend his fish, the gaff, the two oars, the tiller and the short club.

The next two sharks come right before sunset, and the man summons all of his strength to club them to death. They take much meat and much of the old man's energy before they sink.

He refuses to look at the fish anymore. The fish is half-eaten by sharks, and the old man is ashamed at the sight of the magnificent creature he has needlessly killed. He suddenly thinks groggily to himself that if he still had his knife he could have cut the great spear off the fish's head and strapped it to an oar, and they could have defended what little was left of their honor together. However, there was no knife, and they are all but defenseless as they sail towards the shore. As it gets dark, he wonders to himself how they will make it home alive. "Fight them," he answers. "I'll fight them until I die."

He receives no comfort from the lights he is expecting to see of the city when the sun has set. Darkness settles all around him, and he wonders if perhaps he is already dead. He tells himself not to be ridiculous, and the throbbing pain in his body is so severe that he is certain he is not dead. At what he calculates to be around ten at night, he begins to make out the faint lights of the city ahead. He is grateful, but is hit once again by sharks, a whole pack of them this time, and in the engulfing darkness he can only swing his club wildly at shapes and shadows. This he does, until in his weariness he accidentally drops the club. They continue to tear at the fish, and he jerks the tiller

from the rudder, beating the sharks off until that too breaks. When it is broken, he has a sharp, splintering weapon, and as the last shark takes the last bite of the very head of the fish, the last remaining part of the fish, he stabs with his weapon and the shark lurks away. There are no more sharks now, as there is no more meat for them to eat. He fits the tiller back into the rudder, and thinks of nothing now except for getting home.

When he finally reaches the shore the lights of the Terrace are off, and everyone is in bed. He hauls in his boat, and ties her to a rock. He ties the sail, and hoists the mast onto his tired shoulders, beginning the long climb up the hill. His weariness hits him full force now, and he falls under the weight of the mast. His exhaustion crushes him, and he lies on the ground where he fell, the mast on top of him. After a while, he knows not how long, he regains his strength sufficiently to get up, but has to sit down to rest five times before reaching his hut. When he arrives, he finds a drink of water in the darkness, covers him self with a blanket, and falls asleep in his bed.

The next morning the boy finds him lying in the same position. He is breathing, but as the boy looks at his badly cut hands, he begins to cry. He goes to get coffee for the old man, crying softly as he walks to the coffee stand. In town, everyone has seen the skeleton of the great fish strapped to the old man's boat. The boy had seen it earlier, and wishes to speak to no one. He is told that the fish skeleton measured a full 18 feet long, and everyone sends their condolences to the old man for the loss of such a great fish. The boy answers only that Santiago is not to be disturbed, and he does not care that people see him crying.

The boy takes the coffee back to the hut, and sits by the old man's bed until he wakes. The boy waits patiently, and finally Santiago wakes. "They beat me, Manolin, they truly beat me," he says as he is drinking some of the sweet rich coffee that the boy has re-heated for him. Manolin reminds him the fish did not beat him. The old man assents, and Manolin tells him that his boat is being taken care of, and asks him what he wants done with the head and tail, the last remaining parts of the fish. Santiago says that the head can be used as bait, and that Manolin could have the spear-like tail if he