Старик и море

           HewasanoldmanwhofishedaloneinaskiffintheGulfStreamandhehadgoneeighty-fourdaysnowwithouttakingafish. Inthefirstfortydaysaboyhadbeenwithhim. Butafterfortydayswithoutafishtheboy’sparentshadtoldhimthattheoldmanwasnowdefinitelyandfinallysalao,whichistheworstformofunlucky,andtheboyhadgoneattheirordersinanotherboatwhichcaughtthreegoodfishthefirstweek. Itmadetheboysadtoseetheoldmancomeineachdaywithhisskiffemptyandhealwayswentdowntohelphimcarryeitherthecoiledlinesorthegaffandharpoonandthesailthatwasfurledaroundthemast. Thesailwaspatchedwithfloursacksand,furled,itlookedliketheflagofpermanentdefeat. 

           Theoldmanwasthinandgauntwithdeepwrinklesinthebackofhisneck.Thebrownblotchesofthebenevolentskincancerthesunbringsfromitsreflectiononthetropicseawereonhischeeks. Theblotchesranwelldownthesidesofhisfaceandhishandshadthedeep-creasedscarsfromhandlingheavyfishonthecords. Butnoneofthesescarswerefresh. Theywereasoldaserosionsinafishlessdesert. 

           Everythingabouthimwasoldexcepthiseyesandtheywerethesamecolorastheseaandwerecheerfulandundefeated. 

           "Santiago,"theboysaidtohimastheyclimbedthebankfromwheretheskiffwashauledup."Icouldgowithyouagain. We’vemadesomemoney." 

           Theoldmanhadtaughttheboytofishandtheboylovedhim. 

           "No,"theoldmansaid."You’rewithaluckyboat. Staywiththem."