Старик и море

           Headjustedthesackandcarefullyworkedthelinesothatitcameacrossanewpartofhisshouldersand, holdingitanchoredwithhisshoulders,hecarefullyfeltthepullofthefishandthenfeltwithhishandtheprogressoftheskiffthroughthewater. 

           Iwonderwhathemadethatlurchfor,hethought. Thewiremusthaveslippedonthegreathillofhisback. Certainlyhisbackcannotfeelasbadlyasminedoes. Buthecannotpullthisskiffforever,nomatterhowgreatheis. NoweverythingisclearedawaythatmightmaketroubleandIhaveabigreserveofline;allthatamancanask. 

           "Fish,"hesaidsoftly,aloud,"I’llstaywithyouuntilIamdead." 

           He’llstaywithmetoo,Isuppose,theoldmanthoughtandhewaitedforittobelight. Itwascoldnowinthetimebeforedaylightandhepushedagainstthewoodtobewarm. Icandoitaslongashecan,hethought. Andinthefirstlightthelineextendedoutanddownintothewater. Theboatmovedsteadilyandwhenthefirstedgeofthesunroseitwasontheoldman’srightshoulder. 

           "He’sheadednorth,"theoldmansaid. Thecurrentwillhavesetusfartotheeastward,hethought. Iwishhewouldturnwiththecurrent. Thatwouldshowthathewastiring. 

           Whenthesunhadrisenfurthertheoldmanrealizedthatthefishwasnottiring. Therewasonlyonefavorablesign. Theslantofthelineshowedhewasswimmingatalesserdepth. Thatdidnotnecessarilymeanthathewouldjump. Buthemight. 

           "Godlethimjump,"theoldmansaid. "Ihaveenoughlinetohandlehim."