He waited with the line between his thumb and his finger,watching it and the other lines at the same time for the fish might have swum up or down.Then came the same delicate pulling touch again.
‘He'll take it,'the old man said aloud.‘God help him to take it.'
He did not take it though.He was gone and the old man felt nothing.
‘He can't have gone,'he said.‘Christ knows he can't have gone.He's making a turn.Maybe he has been hooked before and he remembers something of it.'
Then he felt the gentle touch on the line and he was happy.
‘It was only his turn,'he said.‘He'll take it.'
He was happy feeling the gentle pulling and then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy.It was the weight of the fish and he let the line slip down,down,down,unrolling off the first of the two reserve coils.As it went down,slipping lightly through the old man's fingers,he still could feel the great weight,though the pressure of his thumb and finger were almost imperceptible.
‘What a fish,'he said.‘He has it sideways in his mouth now and he is moving off with it.'
Then he will turn and swallow it,he thought.He did not say that because he knew that if you said a good thing it might not happen.He knew what a huge fish this was and he thought of him moving away in the darkness with the tuna held crosswise in his mouth.At that moment he felt him stopping but the weight was still there.Then the weight increased and he gave more line.He tightened the pressure of his thumb and finger for a moment and the weight increased and was going straight down.
‘He's taken it,'he said.‘Now I'll let him eat it well.'
He let the line slip through his fingers while he reached down with his left hand and made fast the free end of the two reserve coils to the loop of the two reserve coils of the next line.Now he was ready.He had three forty fathom coils of line in reserve now,as well as the coil he was using.
‘Eat it a little more,'he said.‘Eat it well.'
Eat it so that the point of the hook goes into your heart and kills you,he thought.Come up easy and let me put the harpoon into you.All right.Are you ready?Have you been long enough at table?
‘Now!'he said aloud and struck hard with both hands,gained a yard of line and then struck again and again,swinging with each arm alternately on the cord with all the strength of his arms and the pivoted weight of his body.
Nothing happened.The fish just moved away slowly and the old man could not raise him an inch.His line was strong and made for heavy fish and he held it against his back until it was so taut that beads of water were jumping from it.Then it began to make a slow hissing sound in the water and he still held it,bracing himself against the thwart and leaning back against the pull.The boat began to move slowly off toward the north west.
The fish moved steadily and they travelled slowly on the calm water.The other baits were still in the water but there was nothing to be done.
‘I wish I had the boy,'the old man said aloud.‘I'm being towed by a fish and I'm the towing bitt.I could make the line fast.But then he could break it.I must hold him all I can and give him line when he must have it.Thank God he is travelling and not going down.'
What I will do if he decides to go down,I don't know.What I'll do if he sounds and dies I don't know.But I'll do something.There are plenty of things I can do.
He held the line against his back and watched its slant in the water and the skiff moving steadily to the north west.
This will kill him,the old man thought.He can't do this for ever.But four hours later the fish was still swimming steadily out to sea,towing the skiff,and the old man was still braced solidly with the line across his back.
‘It was noon when I hooked him,'he said.‘And I have never seen him.'
He had pushed his straw hat hard down on his head before he hooked the fish and it was cutting his forehead.He was thirsty too and he got down on his knees and,being careful not to jerk on the line,moved as far into the bow as he could get and reached the water bottle with one hand.He opened it and drank a little.Then he rested against the bow.He rested sitting on the unstepped mast and sail and tried not to think but only to endure.
Then he looked behind him and saw that no land was visible.That makes no difference,he thought.I can always come in on the glow from Havana.There are two more hours before the sun sets and maybe he will come up before that.If he doesn't maybe he will come up with the moon.If he does not do that maybe he will come up with the sunrise.I have no cramps and I feel strong.It is he that has the hook in his mouth.But what a fish to pull like that.He must have his mouth shut tight on the wire.I wish I could see him.I wish I could see him only once to know what I have against me.
The fish never changed his course nor his direction all that night as far as the man could tell from watching the stars.It was cold after the sun went down and the old man's sweat dried cold on his back and his arms and his old legs.During the day he had taken the sack that covered the bait box and spread it in the sun to dry.After the sun went down he tied it around his neck so that it hung down over his back and he cautiously worked it down under the line that was across his shoulders now.The sack cushioned the line and he had found a way of leaning forward against the bow so that he was almost comfortable.The position actually was only somewhat less intolerable;but he thought of it as almost comfortable.
I can do nothing with him and he can do nothing with me,he thought.Not as long as he keeps this up.
