The old man dreamed of Africa when he was a boy and the long, golden beaches. He lived along that coast now every night and in his dreams he heard the surf roar and saw the native boats come riding through it. As he slept he smelled the smell of Africa that the land breeze brought in the morning.
He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great events, nor of great fish, nor of fights, nor of contests of strength, nor of his wife. Now he only dreamed of places and of the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved their, as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy.
He woke up, looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on. He went up the road to wake the boy. The door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and the old man opened it and walked in quietly. He took hold of the boy's foot gently and held it until the boy woke and turned and looked at him. The old man nodded and the boy took his trousers from the chair by the bed and, sitting on the bed, pulled them on.
The old man went out the door and the boy came after him. He was sleepy and the old man put his arm across his shoulders and said. "I am sorry."
"Que va," the boy said. "It is what a man must do."
They walked down the road to the old man's shack and all along the road, in the dark, barefoot men were moving, carrying the masts of their boats.
When they reached the old man's shack the boy took the rolls of lute in the basket, the harpoon and gaff, and the old man carried the mast with the furled sail on his shoulder.
"Do you want coffee?" the boy asked.
"We'll put the gear in the boat and then get some."
They had coffee from condensed-milk cans at an early morning place that served fishermen.
"How did you sleep, old man?" the boy asked. He was waking up now although it was still hard for him to leave his sleep.
"Very well, Manolin," the old man said. "I feel confident today."
"So do I." the boy said. "Now I must get your sardines and mine and your fresh baits."
"I'll be right back." the boy said. "Have another coffee. We have credit here."
The old man drank his coffee slowly. It was all he would have all day and he knew that he should drink it. For a long time now eating had bored him and he never carried a lunch. He had a bottle of water in the bow of the skiff and that was all he needed for the day.
The boy was back now with the sardines and the two baits, and they went down to the skiff, feeling the pebbled sand under their feet. They lifted the skiff and slid her into the water.
"Good luck, old man."
"Good luck," the old man said.
He fitted the rope lashings of the oars onto the thole pins and, leaning forward, he began to row out of the harbor in the dark. There were other boats going out to sea and the old man heard the dip and push of their oars even though he could not see them.
The old man knew he was going far out and he left the smell of the laud behind and rowed out into the clean early morning smell of the ocean.
In the dark the old man could feel the morning coming and as he rowed he heard the sound of flying fish leaving the water. He was very fond of flying fish as they were his principal friends on the ocean. He was sorry for the birds, especially the small delicate dark terns that were always flying and looking and almost never finding. And he thought, the birds have a harder life than we do
except for the robber birds and the heavy strong ones. Why did they make birds so delicate and fine as those sea swallows when the ocean can be so cruel? She is kind and very beautiful. But she can be so cruel.
He always thought of the sea as la mar which is what people call her in Spanish when they love her. Sometimes those who love her say bad things about her but they always speak of the sea as though she were a woman. Some of the younger fishermen, who had motorboats, speak of her as el mar which is masculine. They speak of her as a contestant or a place or even as an enemy. But the old man always thought of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favors, and if She did wild or wicked things it was because she could not help them. The moon affects her as it does a woman, he thought.
He was rowing steadily and it was no effort for him.
"Today I'll row out where the schools of albacore are and maybe there will be a big one with them."
Before it was really light he had his four baits out at different depths and he was drifting with the current. There was no part of the hook that a great fish could feel which was not sweet-smelling and good-tasting.
The boy had given him two small fresh tunas which hung on the two deepest lines and on the others, he had a big blue runner and a yellow jack. Each line was as thick as a big pencil and was looped onto a stick so that any pull or touch on the bait would make the stick dip.
Now the old man rowed gently to keep the lines straight and at their proper depths. The sun rose thinly from the sea and the old man could see the other boats, low on the water and well in toward the shore. He looked down into the water and watched the lines that went straight down into the dark water. He kept them straighter titan any other fisherman.
I keep them with precision, he thought. Only I have no luck anymore. But who knows? Maybe today. Every day is a new day. It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.
Just then he saw a man-of-war bird with his long black wings circling in the sky ahead of him. He made a quick drop and then circled again.
"He's got something," the old man said aloud. "He's not just looking." "Dolphin," the old man said aloud. "Big dolphin."
As the old man watched, a small tuna rose in the air, turned and dropped into the water. Another and another rose and they were leaping in long jumps alter the bait. After a while the stern line became taut under his foot.
He dropped his oars and felt the weight of the small tuna's shivering pull. He could see the fish in the water as he pulled it in. The old man hit him on the head for kindness and kicked him under the stern.
"Albacore," he said aloud. "He'll make a beautiful bait."
He did not remember when he first started talking to himself. Probably when the boy had left him, but he did not remember.
The sun was hot now and the old man felt it on the back of his neck, and felt the sweat trickle down his back as he rowed. Just then, watching his lines, he saw one of the projecting green sticks dip sharply.
"Yes." he said. "Yes," and he moved his oars inside the boat. He reached out for the line and held it delicately between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.
Then it came again. This time it was a tentative pull and he knew exactly what it was. One hundred fathoms below a marlin was eating the sardines that covered the point of the hook.
This far out, he must be huge, he thought. Eat them, fish. Please eat them. He felt the light delicate pull and then a harder pull when a sardine's head must have been more difficult to break from the hook. Then there was nothing.
"Come on," the old man said aloud. "Just smell them. Aren't they lovely?
Eat them now and then there is the tuna. Don't be shy, fish. Eat them."
Then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy. It was the weight of the fish and he let the line slip down, down, down. Now he was ready. He had three forty-fathom coils of line in reserve, 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. Are you ready? Have you been at the table long enough?
"Now!" he said aloud and struck hard with both hands, gained a yard of line and then struck again and again, swinging with all the strength of his arms and the weight of his body.
Nothing happened. The fish just moved away slowly and the old man could not raise him an inch. The boat began to move slowly toward the northwest. The fish moved steadily and they traveled slowly on the calm water.
"I wish I had the boy," the old man said aloud. "I'm being towed by a fish. I must hold him all I can and give him the line when he wants it. Thank God he is traveling and not going down."
Four hours later the fish was still swimming 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."
他不多久就睡熟了，梦见小时候见到的非洲，长长的金色海滩和白色海滩，白得耀眼，还有高耸的海岬和褐色的大山。他如今每天夜里都回到那道海岸边，在梦中听见拍岸海浪的隆隆声，看见土人驾船穿浪而行。他睡着时闻到甲板上柏油和填絮的气味，还闻到早晨陆地上刮来的风带来的非洲气息。
通常一闻到陆地上刮来的风，他就醒来，穿上衣裳去叫醒那孩子。然而今夜陆地上刮来的风的气息来得很早，他在梦中知道时间尚早，就继续把梦做下去，看见群岛的白色顶峰从海面上升起，随后梦见了加那利群岛①的各个港湾和锚泊地。
他不再梦见风暴，不再梦见妇女们，不再梦见伟大的事件，不再梦见大鱼，不再梦见打架，不再梦见角力，不再梦见他的妻子。他如今只梦见一些地方和海滩上的狮子。它们在暮色中象小猫一般嬉耍着，他爱它们，如同爱这孩子一样。他从没梦见过这孩子。他就这么醒过来，望望敞开的门外边的月亮，摊开长裤穿上。他在窝棚外撒了尿，然后顺着大路走去叫醒孩子。他被清晨的寒气弄得直哆嗦。但他知道哆嗦了一阵后会感到暖和，要不了多久他就要去划船了。
孩子住的那所房子的门没有上铺，他推开了门，光着脚悄悄走进去。孩子在外间的一张帆布床上熟睡着，老人靠着外面射进来的残月的光线，清楚地看见他。他轻轻握住孩子的一只脚，直到孩子给弄醒了，转过脸来对他望着。老人点点头，孩子从床边椅子上拿起他的长裤，坐在床沿上穿裤子。老人走出门去，孩子跟在他背后。他还是昏昏欲睡，老人伸出胳臂搂住他的肩膀说："对不起。”
“哪里！”孩子说。"男子汉就该这么干。”
他们顺着大路朝老人的窝棚走去，一路上，黑暗中有些光着脚的男人在走动，扛着他们船上的桅杆。
他们走进老人的窝棚，孩子拿起装在篮子里的钓索卷儿，还有鱼叉和鱼钩，老人把绕着帆的桅杆扛在肩上。
①在北大西洋东部的一个火山群岛，位于摩洛哥西南，当时尚未独立，隶属西班牙。
“想喝咖啡吗？"孩子问。
“我们把家什放在船里，然后喝一点吧。”
他们在一家供应渔夫的清早就营业的小吃馆里，喝着盛在炼乳听里的咖啡。
“你睡得怎么样，老大爷？"孩子问。他如今清醒过来了，尽管要他完全摆脱睡魔还不大容易。
“睡得很好，马诺林，”老人说。“我感到今天挺有把握。”
“我也这样，”孩子说。"现在我该去拿你我用的沙丁鱼，还有给你的新鲜鱼饵。那条船上的家什总是他自己拿的。他从来不要别人帮他拿东西。”
“我们可不同，”老人说。“你还只五岁时我就让你帮忙拿东西来着。”
“我记得，”孩子说。"我马上就回来。再喝杯咖啡吧。我们在这儿可以挂帐。”
他走了，光着脚在珊瑚石铺的走道上向保藏鱼铒的冷藏库走去。
老人慢腾腾地喝着咖啡。这是他今儿一整天的饮食，他知道应该把它喝了。好久以来，吃饭使他感到厌烦，因此他从来不带吃食。他在小船的船头上放着一瓶水，一整天只需要这个就够了。
孩子带着沙丁鱼和两份包在报纸里的鱼饵回来了，他们顺着小径走向小船，感到脚下的沙地里嵌着鹅卵石，他们抬起小船，让它溜进水里。
“祝你好运，老大爷。”
“祝你好运，”老人说。他把桨上的绳圈套在桨座的钉子上，身子朝前冲，抵消桨片在水中所遇到的阻力，在黑暗中动手划出港去。其他那些海滩上也有其他船只在出海，老人听到他们的桨落水和划动的声音，尽管此刻月亮已掉到了山背后，他还看不清他们。
偶尔有条船上有人在说话。但是除了桨声外，大多数船只都寂静无声。它们一出港口就分散开来，每一条驶向指望能找到鱼的那片海面。老人知道自己要驶向远方，所以把陆地的气息抛在后方，划进清晨的海洋的清新气息中。他划过海里的某一片水域，看见果囊马尾藻闪出的磷光，渔夫们管这片水域叫"大井"，因为那儿水深突然达到七百英寻，海①流冲击在海底深渊的峭壁上，激起了旋涡，种种鱼儿都聚集在那儿。那儿集中着海虾和作鱼饵用的小鱼，在那些深不可测的水底洞穴里，有时还有成群的柔鱼，它们在夜间浮到紧靠海面的地方
，所有在那儿转游的鱼类都拿它们当食物。
老人在黑暗中感觉到早晨在来临，他划着划着，听见飞鱼出水时的颤抖声，还有它们在黑暗中凌空飞翔时挺直的翅膀所发出的咝咝声。他非常喜爱飞鱼，拿它们当作他在海洋上的主要朋友。他替鸟儿伤心，尤其是那些柔弱的黑色小燕鸥，它们始终在飞翔，在找食，但几乎从没找到过，于是他想，乌儿的生活过得比我们的还要艰难，除了那些猛禽和强有力的大鸟。既然海洋这样残暴，为什么象这些海燕那样的鸟儿生来就如此柔弱和纤巧？海洋是仁慈并十分美丽的。然而她能变得这样残暴，又是来得这样突然，而这些飞翔的鸟
①测量水深的单位，每英寻等于英尺。
儿，从空中落下觅食，发出细微的哀鸣，却生来就柔弱得不适宜在海上生活。
他每想到海洋，老是称她为ｌａｍａｒ，这是人们对海洋抱着好感时用西班牙语对她的称呼。有时候，对海洋抱着好感的人们也说她的坏话，不过说起来总是拿她当女性看待的。①有些较年轻的渔夫，用浮标当钓索上的浮子，并且在把鲨鱼肝卖了好多钱后置备了汽艇，都管海洋叫ｅｌｍａｒ，这是表示男性的说法。他们提起她时，拿她当做一个竞争者或是一个去处，甚至当做一个敌人。可是这老人总是拿海洋当做女性，她给人或者不愿给人莫大的恩惠，如果她干出了任性或缺德的事儿来，那是因为她由不得自己。月亮对她起着影响，如同对一个女人那样，他想。
他从容地划着，对他说来并不吃力，因为他保持在自己的最高速度以内，而且除了偶尔水流打个旋儿以外，海面是平坦无浪的。他正让海流帮他千三分之一的活儿，这时天渐渐亮了，他发现自己已经划到比预期此刻能达到的地方更远了。
我在这海底的深渊上转游了一个礼拜，可是一无作为，他想。今天，我要找到那些鲣鱼和长鳍金枪鱼群在什么地方，说不定还有条大鱼跟它们在一起呢。
不等天色大亮，他就放出了一个个鱼饵，让船随着海流漂去。有个鱼饵下沉到四十英寻的深处。第二个在七十五英
①西班牙语中的"海洋"（ｍａｒ）可作阴性名词，也可作阳性名词，以前面用的定冠词是阴性（）还是阳性（）来区别。ｌａｅｌ
寻的深处，第三个和第四个分别在蓝色海水中一百英寻和一百二十五英寻的深处。每个由新鲜沙丁鱼做的鱼饵都是头朝下的，钓钩的钩身穿进小鱼的身子，扎好，缝牢，钓钩的所有突出部分，弯钩和尖端，都给包在鱼肉里。每条沙丁鱼都用钓钩穿过双眼，这样鱼的身子在突出的钢钩上构成了半个环形。不管一条大鱼接触到钓钩的哪一部分，都是喷香而美味的。
孩子给了他两条新鲜的小金枪鱼，或者叫做长鳍金枪鱼，它们正象铅垂般挂在那两根最深的钓索上，在另外两根上，他挂上了一条蓝色大鲹鱼和一条黄色金银鱼，它们已被使用过，但依然完好，而且还有出色的沙丁鱼给它们添上香味和吸引力。每根钓索都象一支大铅笔那么粗，一端给缠在一根青皮钓竿上，这样，只要鱼在鱼饵上一拉或一碰，就能使钓竿朝下落，而每根钓索有两个四十英寻长的卷儿，它们可以牢系在其他备用的卷儿上，这一来，如果用得着的话，一条鱼可以拉出三百多英寻长的钓索。
这时老人紧盯着那三根挑出在小船一边的钓竿，看看有没有动静，一边缓缓地划着，使钓索保持上下笔直，停留在适当的水底深处。天相当亮了，太阳随时会升起来。
淡淡的太阳从海上升起，老人看见其他的船只，低低地挨着水面，离海岸不远，和海流的方向垂直地展开着。跟着太阳越发明亮了，耀眼的阳光射在水面上，随后太阳从地平线上完全升起，平坦的海面把阳光反射到他眼睛里，使眼睛剧烈地刺痛，因此他不朝太阳看，顾自划着。他俯视水中，注视着那几根一直下垂到黑魆魆的深水里的钓索。他把钓索垂得比任何人更直，这样，在黑魆魆的湾流深处的几个不同的深度，都会有一个鱼饵刚好在他所指望的地方等待着在那儿游动的鱼来吃。别的渔夫让钓索随着海流漂去，有时候钓索在六十英寻的深处，他们却自以为在一百英寻的深处呢。
不过，他想，我总是把它们精确地放在适当的地方的。问题只在于我的运气就此不好了。可是谁说得准呢？说不定今天就转运。每一天都是一个新的日子。走运当然是好。不过我情愿做到分毫不差。这样，运气来的时候，你就有所准备了。
两小时过去了，太阳如今相应地升得更高了，他朝东望时不再感到那么刺眼了。眼前只看得见三条船，它们显得特别低矮，远在近岸的海面上。
我这一辈子，初升的太阳老是刺痛我的眼睛，他想。然而眼睛还是好好的。傍晚时分，我可以直望着太阳，不会有眼前发黑的感觉。阳光的力量在傍晚也要强一些。不过在早上它叫人感到眼痛。
就在这时，他看见一只长翅膀的黑色军舰鸟在他前方的天空中盘旋飞翔。它倏地斜着后掠的双翅俯冲，然后又盘旋起来。
“它逮住了什么东西啦，"老人说出声来。"它不光是找找罢了。”
他慢慢划着，直朝鸟儿盘旋的地方划去。他并不匆忙，让那些钓索保持着上下笔直的位置。不过他还是挨近了一点儿海流，这样，他依然在用正确的方式捕鱼，尽管他的速度要比他不打算利用鸟儿来指路时来得快。
军舰鸟在空中飞得高些了，又盘旋起来，双翅纹丝不动。它随即猛然俯冲下来，老人看见飞鱼从海里跃出，在海面上拚命地掠去。
“鲯鳅，"老人说出声来。"大鲯鳅。”
他把双桨从桨架上取下，从船头下面拿出一根细钓丝。钓丝上系着一段铁丝导线和一只中号钓钩，他拿一条沙丁鱼挂在上面。他把钓丝从船舷放下水去，将上端紧系在船梢一只拳头螺栓上。跟着他在另一根钓丝上安上了鱼饵，把它盘绕着搁在船头的阴影里。他又划起船来，注视着那只此刻正在水面上低低地飞掠的长翅膀黑鸟。
他看着看着，那鸟儿又朝下冲，为了俯冲，把翅膀朝后掠，然后猛地展开，追踪着飞鱼，可是没有成效。老人看见那些大鲯鳅跟在那脱逃的鱼后面，把海面弄得微微隆起。鲯鳅在飞掠的鱼下面破水而行，只等飞鱼一掉下，就飞快地钻进水里。这群鲯鳅真大啊，他想。它们分布得很广，飞鱼很少脱逃的机会。那只鸟可没有成功的机会。飞鱼对它来说个头太大了，而且又飞得太快。
他看着飞鱼一再地从海里冒出来，看着那只鸟儿的一无效果的行动。那群鱼从我附近逃走啦，他想。它们逃得太快，游得太远啦。不过说不定我能逮住一条掉队的，说不定我想望的大鱼就在它们周围转游着。我的大鱼总该在某处地方啊。
陆地上空的云块这时象山岗般耸立着，海岸只剩下一长条绿色的线，背后是些灰青色的小山。海水此刻呈深蓝色，深得简直发紫了。他仔细俯视着海水，只见深蓝色的水中穿梭地
闪出点点红色的浮游生物，阳光这时在水中变幻出奇异的光彩。他注视着那几根钓索，看见它们一直朝下没入水中看不见的地方，他很高兴看到这么多浮游生物，因为这说明有鱼。太阳此刻升得更高了，阳光在水中变幻出奇异的光彩，说明天气晴朗，陆地上空的云块的形状也说明了这一点。可是那只鸟儿这时几乎看不见了，水面上没什么东西，只有几摊被太阳晒得发白的黄色马尾藻和一只紧靠着船舷浮动的僧帽水母，它那胶质的浮囊呈紫色，具有一定的外形，闪现出彩虹般的颜色。它倒向一边，然后又竖直了身子。它象个大气泡般高高兴兴地浮动着，那些厉害的紫色长触须在水中拖在身后，长达一码。
“Ａｇｕａｍａｌａ，”老人说。“你这婊子养的。"①他从坐着轻轻荡桨的地方低头朝水中望去，看见一些颜色跟那些拖在水中的触须一样的小鱼，它们在触须和触须之间以及浮囊在浮动时所投下的一小摊阴影中游着。它们对它的毒素是不受影响的。可是人就不同了，当老人把一条鱼拉回船来时，有些触须会缠在钓丝上，紫色的黏液附在上面，他的胳臂和手上就会出现伤痕和疮肿，就象被毒漆树或栎叶毒漆树感染时一样。但是这水母的毒素发作得更快，痛得象挨鞭子抽一般。
这些闪着彩虹般颜色的大气泡很美。然而它们正是海里最欺诈成性的生物，所以老人乐意看到大海龟把它们吃掉。海龟发现了它们，就从正面向它们进逼，然后闭上了眼睛，这
①西班牙语，意为"被败坏了的海水"，因为水母的触须上有带有毒性的黏液，见下文。
样，从头到尾完全被龟背所保护着，把它们连同触须一并吃掉。老人喜欢观看海龟把它们吃掉，喜欢在风暴过后在海滩上遇上它们，喜欢听到自己用长着老茧的硬脚掌踩在上面时它们啪地爆裂的声音。
他喜欢绿色的海龟和玳瑁，它们形态优美，游水迅速，价值很高，他还对那又大又笨的蠵龟抱着不怀恶意的轻蔑，它们的甲壳是黄色的，做爱的方式是奇特的，高高兴兴地吞食僧帽水母时闭上了眼睛。
他对海龟并不抱着神秘的看法，尽管他曾多年乘小船去捕海龟。他替所有的海龟伤心，甚至包括那些跟小船一样长、重达一吨的大梭龟。人们大都对海龟残酷无情，因为一只海龟给剖开、杀死之后，它的心脏还要跳动好几个钟点。然而老人想，我也有这样一颗心脏，我的手脚也跟它们的一样。他吃白色的海龟蛋，为了使身子长力气。他在五月份连吃了整整一个月，使自己到九、十月份能身强力壮，去逮地道的人鱼。
他每天还从不少渔夫存放家什的棚屋中一只大圆桶里舀一杯鲨鱼肝油喝。这桶就放在那儿，想喝的渔夫都可以去。大多数渔夫厌恶这种油的味道。但是也并不比摸黑早起更叫人难受，而且它对防治一切伤风流感都非常有效，对眼睛也有好处。
老人此刻抬眼望去，看见那只鸟儿又在盘旋了。
“它找到鱼啦，"他说出声来，这时没有一条飞鱼冲出海面，也没有小鱼纷纷四处逃窜。然而老人望着望着，只见一条小金枪鱼跃到空中，一个转身，头朝下掉进水里。这条金枪鱼在阳光中闪出银白色的光，等它回到了水里，又有些金枪鱼一条接着一条跃出水面，它们是朝四面八方跳的，搅得海水翻腾起来，跳得很远地捕食小鱼。它们正绕着小鱼转，驱赶着小鱼。
要不是它们游得这么快，我可以赶到它们中间去的，老人想，他注视着这群鱼把水搅得泛出白色的水沫，还注视着那鸟儿这时正俯冲下来，扎进在惊慌中被迫浮上海面的小鱼群中。
“这只鸟真是个大帮手，”老人说。就在这当儿，船梢的那根细钓丝在他脚下绷紧了，原来他在脚上绕了一圈，于是他放下双桨，紧紧抓住细钓丝，动手往回拉，感到那小金枪鱼在颤巍巍地拉着，有点儿分量。他越往回拉，钓丝就越是颤巍，他看见水里蓝色的鱼背和金色的两侧，然后把钓丝呼的一甩，使鱼越过船舷，掉在船中。鱼躺在船梢的阳光里，身子结实，形状象颗子弹，一双痴呆的大眼睛直瞪着，动作干净利落的尾巴敏捷、发抖地拍打着船板，砰砰有声，逐渐耗尽了力气。老人出于好意，猛击了一下它的头，一脚把它那还在抖动的身子踢到船梢背阴的地方。
“长鳍金枪鱼，"他说出声来。"拿来钓大鱼倒满好。它有十磅重。”
他记不起他是什么时候第一次开始在独自待着的当儿自言自语的了。往年他独自待着时曾唱歌来着，有时候在夜里唱，那是在小渔船或捕海龟的小艇上值班掌舵时的事。他大概是在那孩子离开了他、他独自待着时开始自言自语的。不过他记不清了。他跟孩子一块儿捕鱼时，他们一般只在有必要时才说话。他们在夜间说话来着，要不，碰到坏天气，被暴风雨困在海上的时候。没有必要不在海上说话，被认为是种好规矩，老人一向认为的确如此，始终遵守它。可是这会儿他把心里想说的话说出声来有好几次了，因为没有旁人会受到他说话的打扰。
“要是别人听到我在自言自语，会当我发疯了，"他说出声来。"不过既然我没有发疯，我就不管，还是要说。有钱人在船上有收音机对他们谈话，还把棒球赛的消息告诉他们。”现在可不是思量棒球赛的时刻，他想。现在只应该思量一桩事。就是我生来要干的那桩事。那个鱼群周围很可能有一条大的，他想。我只逮住了正在吃小鱼的金枪鱼群中一条失散的。可是它们正游向远方，游得很快。今天凡是在海面上露面的都游得很快，向着东北方向。难道一天的这个时辰该如此吗？要不，这是什么我不懂得的天气征兆？
他眼下已看不见海岸的那一道绿色了，只看得见那些青山的仿佛积着白雪的山峰，以及山峰上空象是高耸的雪山般的云块。海水颜色深极了，阳光在海水中幻成彩虹七色。那数不清的斑斑点点的浮游生物，由于此刻太阳升到了头顶上空，都看不见了，眼下老人看得见的仅仅是蓝色海水深处幻成的巨大的七色光带，还有他那几根笔直垂在有一英里深的水中的钓索。
渔夫们管所有这种鱼都叫金枪鱼，只有等到把它们卖出，或者拿来换鱼饵时，才分别叫它们各自的专用名字。这时它们又沉下海去了。阳光此刻很热，老人感到脖颈上热辣辣的，划着划着，觉得汗水一滴滴地从背上往下淌。
我大可随波逐流，他想，管自睡去，预先把钓索在脚趾上绕上一圈，有动静时可以把我弄醒。不过今天是第八十五天，我该一整天好好钓鱼。就在这时，他凝视着钓索，看见其中有一根挑出在水面上的绿色钓竿猛地往水中一沉。
“来啦，"他说。"来啦，"说着从桨架上取下双桨，没有让船颠簸一下。他伸手去拉钓索，把它轻轻地夹在右手大拇指和食指之间。他感到钓索并不抽紧，也没什么分量，就轻松地握着。跟着它又动了一下。这回是试探性的一拉，拉得既不紧又不重，他就完全明白这是怎么回事了。在一百英寻的深处有条大马林鱼正在吃包住钓钩尖端和钩身的沙丁鱼，这个手工制的钓钩是从一条小金枪鱼的头部穿出来的。
老人轻巧地攥着钓索，用左手把它从竿子上轻轻地解下来。他现在可以让它穿过他手指间滑动，不会让鱼感到一点儿牵引力。
在离岸这么远的地方，它长到本月份，个头一定挺大了，他想。吃鱼饵吧，鱼啊。吃吧。请你吃吧。这些鱼饵多新鲜，而你啊，待在这六百英尺的深处，在这漆黑黑的冷水里。在黑暗里再绕个弯子，拐回来把它们吃了吧。
他感到微弱而轻巧地一拉，跟着较猛烈地一拉，这时准是有条沙丁鱼的头很难从钓钩上扯下来。然后没有一丝动静了。
“来吧，"老人说出声来。"再绕个弯子吧。闻闻这些鱼饵。它们不是挺鲜美吗？趁它们还新鲜的时候吃了，回头还有那条金枪鱼。又结实，又凉快，又鲜美。别怕难为情，鱼儿。把它们吃了吧。”
他把钓索夹在大拇指和食指之间等待着。同时盯着它和其他那几根钓索，因为这鱼可能已游到了高一点的地方或低一点的地方。跟着又是那么轻巧地一拉。
“它会咬饵的，"老人说出声来。"求天主帮它咬饵吧。”然而它没有咬饵。它游走了，老人没感到有任何动静。
“它不可能游走的，"他说。"天知道它是不可能游走的。它正在绕弯子呐。也许它以前上过钩，还有点儿记得。”
跟着他感到钓索轻轻地动了一下，他高兴了。
“它刚才不过是在转身，"他说。"它会咬饵的。”
感到这轻微的一拉，他很高兴，接着他感到有些猛拉的感觉，很有份量，叫人难以相信。这是鱼本身的重量造成的，他就松手让钓索朝下溜，一直朝下，朝下溜，从那两卷备用钓索中的一卷上放出钓索。它从老人的指间轻轻地滑下去的时候，他依旧感到很大的分量，尽管他的大拇指和食指施加的压力简直小得觉察不到。
“多棒的鱼啊，"他说。"它正把鱼饵斜叼在嘴里，带着它在游走呐。”
它就会掉过头来把饵吞下去的，他想。他没有把这句话说出声来，因为他知道，一桩好事如果说破了，也许就不会发生了。他知道这条鱼有多大，他想象到它嘴里横衔着金枪鱼，在黑暗中游走。这时他觉得它停止不动了，可是分量还是没变。跟着分量越来越重了，他就再放出一点钓索。他一时加强了大拇指和食指上的压力，于是钓索上的分量增加了，一直传到水中深处。
“它咬饵啦，"他说。"现在我来让它美美地吃一顿。”
他让钓索在指间朝下溜，同时伸出左手，把两卷备用钓索的一端紧系在旁边那根钓索的两卷备用钓索上。他如今准备好了。他眼下除了正在使用的那钓索卷儿，还有三个四十英寻长的卷儿可供备用。
“再吃一些吧，"他说。"美美地吃吧。”
吃了吧，这样可以让钓钩的尖端扎进你的心脏，把你弄死，他想。轻松愉快地浮上来吧，让我把鱼叉刺进你的身子。得了。你准备好了？你进餐得时间够长了吗？
“着啊！"他说出声来，用双手使劲猛拉钓索，收进了一码，然后连连猛拉，使出胳膊上的全副劲儿，拿身子的重量作为支撑，挥动双臂，轮换地把钓索往回拉。
什么用也没有。那鱼只顾慢慢地游开去，老人无法把它往上拉一英寸。他这钓索很结实，是制作来钓大鱼的，他把它套在背上猛拉，钓索给绷得太紧，上面竟蹦出水珠来。
随后它在水里渐渐发出一阵拖长的咝咝声，但他依旧攥着它，在座板上死劲撑住了自己的身子，仰着上半身来抵消鱼的拉力。船儿慢慢地向西北方向驶去。
大鱼一刻不停地游着，鱼和船在平静的水面上慢慢地行进。另外那几个鱼饵还在水里，没有动静，用不着应付。
“但愿那孩子在这儿就好了，"老人说出声来，"我正被一条鱼拖着走，成了一根系纤绳的短柱啦。我可以把钓索系在船舷上。不过这一来鱼儿会把它扯断的。我得拚命牵住它，必要的时候给它放出钓索。谢谢老天，它还在朝前游，没有朝下沉。”
如果它决意朝下沉，我该怎么办？我不知道。如果它潜入海底，死在那儿，我该怎么办？我不知道。可是我必须干些什么。我能做的事情多着呢。
他攥住了勒在背脊上的钓索，紧盯着它直往水中斜去，小船呢，不停地朝西北方驶去。
这样能叫它送命，老人想。它不能一直这样干下去。然而过了四个钟点，那鱼照样拖着这条小船，不停地向大海游去，老人呢，依然紧紧攥着勒在背脊上的钓索。"我是中午把它钓上的，"他说。"可我始终还没见过它。”