The Old Man and the Sea

He was an old man who fished alone

in a skiff in the Gulf Stream

and he had gone 84 days now without taking a fish.

In the first 40 days, a boy had been with him.

But after 40 days without a fish

the boy's parents had told him

that the old man was now definitely

and finally salao

which is the worst form of unlucky

and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat

which caught three good fish the first week.

The old man had taught the boy to fish

and the boy loved him.

The old man was gray and wrinkled

with deep furrows in the back of his neck

and his hands had the deep, creased scars

from handling heavy fish on the cords.

But none of these scars were fresh.

They were as old as erosions

in a fishless desert.

Everything about him was old except his eyes.

And they were the same color as the sea

and were cheerful and undefeated.

It made the boy sad to see the old man

come in each day with his skiff empty.

He always went down to help him carry

th-the coil lines of the gaff and harpoon

and the sail that was furled around the mast.

The sail was patched with flour sacks and furled.

It looked like the flag of permanent defeat.

No one would steal from the old man

but it was better to take the sail

and the heavy lines home

as the dew was bad for them.

And though he was quite sure no local people would steal

from the old man, thought that a gaff and a harpoon

were needless temptations to leave in a boat.

The successful fishermen of that day were already in

and had butchered their marlin out

carried them laid full-length

across two planks to the fish house

where they waited for the ice truck

to carry them to the market in Havana.

"Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace?" the boy asked.

"Why not?" the old man said. "Between fishermen."

Two beers, Martin, please.

They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen

made fun of the old man.

But he was not angry.

He did not remember when he had attained humility

but he knew he had attained it

and he knew it was not disgraceful

and it carried no true loss of pride.

Some of the older fishermen looked at him

and were sad, but they did not show it.

They spoke politely about the currents

and the depths they had drifted their lines at

and the steady good weather

and of what they had seen.

- Santiago. - Yes?

Can I go out and get the sardines for you tomorrow?

Oh, no, no, no. You play ball.

I can still row

and I can still throw the net.

I know where I can get four fresh baits.

I still have mine from today.

Let me get four fresh ones.

- One. - Two.

Two.

You didn't steal them, did you?

I wouldn't, but I bought these.

Thank you.

If I cannot fish with you

I'd like to serve in some way.

You bought me a beer.

You are already a man.

They walked up the road together.

The old man stood the mast outside his shack.

In the old man's shack, there was a bed, a table

some chairs, and a place to cook with charcoal.

On the brown walls, there was a picture in color

of the Sacred Heart of Jesus..

...and another of the Virgin of Cobre.

These were relics of his wife.

Once, there had been a tinted photograph

of his wife on the wall.

But he had taken it down because it made him

too lonely to see it.

And it was on the shelf in the corner

under his clean shirt.

Ah!

Tomorrow is the 85th day.

Eighty-five is a lucky number.

How would you like to see me bring one in

that dressed out over a thousand pounds?

Are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?

I think so.

And there are many tricks.

Santiago..

...I could go with you again.

We've made enough money.

No, no.

You are in a lucky boat. You stay with them.

'Remember how long we went without fish before?'

Mmm.

Then we caught big ones

every day for three weeks.

Mmm, I remember.

I know you did not leave me

because you lost confidence.

It was my papa made me leave.

I am a boy and I must obey him.

Of course, of course. It is quite normal.

- He hasn't much faith. - 'No.'

- But we have, haven't we? - Yes.

If you were my boy, I would take you out again.

But you are your father's and your mother's

and you are in a lucky boat.

What do you have to eat?

Oh, I have a pot of yellow rice and some fish.

Would you like some?

No. I'll eat at home.

May I take the cast net?

Of course.

I have yesterday's newspaper.

I will read the baseball.

There was no cast net.

The boy remembered when they had sold it.

But they went through this fiction every day.

There was no pot of yellow rice and fish

and the boy knew this.

He didn't know whether yesterday's paper

was a fiction too.

But the old man had brought it out from under the bed.

Keep warm, old man.

'Sit in the sun. Remember, we're in September.'

The month of the big fish.

Anybody can be a fisherman in May.

I'll be back when I get the sardines.

Then, you can tell me about the baseball.

- Hey, Manolin, come on. - Play first base.

Hey, yeah. Come on.

Manolin.

A dinner for two, please.

To take out.

You don't eat at home anymore?

- How much do you have to spend? - Sixty cents.

No luck yet, huh?

You know, maybe it's not luck at all.

Maybe he's too old.

He's not too old. You'll see.

- I said, "Maybe." - Not even "Maybe."

Alright.

I only hope when I'm an old man

I have a boy to fish for me.

When the boy came back, the old man was asleep

in a chair and the sun was going down.

His shoulders were still powerful

although very old.

And the neck was still strong too.

The creases did not show so much

when the old man was asleep.

His head was very old though.

And with his eyes closed, there was no life in his face.

Wake up, old man.

The old man opened his eyes, and for a long moment

he was coming back from a long way away.

Then he smiled.

What have you got?

- We're gonna have supper. - I'm not very hungry.

Come on and eat. You can't fish and not eat.

I have.

You won't fish without eating

while I'm alive.

Well, then you live a long time

and take good care of yourself.

Who, who gave this to you?

- Martin at the Terrace. - Oh.

Well.

I must be sure and thank him.

I thanked him already.

You don't need to thank him.

They had eaten with no light on the table

and it was dark now.

The old man had talked to the boy

about the baseball as they always did.

About the great DiMaggio and how he was himself again

and about the other men on the team.

Tell me about the great John J. McGraw.

Mmm, he used to come

to the Terrace sometimes

in the olden days too.

His mind was on the horses, I think

as much as it was on the baseball.

At least, he used to carry lists of horses

in his pocket at all times.

And frequently, he would speak

the names of horses on the telephone.

He was a great manager.

My father thinks he was the greatest.