He took all his pain and what was left of his strength and his long-gone pride and he put it against the fish's agony.
The fish came over onto his side and swam gently and started to pass the boat.
The old man dropped the line and put his foot on it and lifted the harpoon as high as he could and drove it down with all his strength into the fish's side just behind the great chest fin. He felt the iron go in and he leaned on it and drove it further and then pushed all his weight after it.
Then the fish came alive, with his death in him, and rose high out of the water showing all his great length and width and all his power and his beauty. He seemed to hang in the air above the old man in the skiff. Then he fell into the water with a crash.
The old man felt faint and sick and he could not see well. But he cleared the harpoon line and let it run slowly through his raw hands and when he could see, he saw the fish was on his back with his silver belly up. The shaft of the harpoon was projecting at an angle from the fish's shoulder and the sea was red with the blood from his heart. The fish was silvery and still and floated with the waves. The old man laid his head on his hands.
"Keep my head clear," he said. "I am a tired old man. But I have killed this fish which is my brother and now I must do the slave work."
Now I must prepare the rope to tie him alongside the skiff, he thought.
This skiff will never hold him.
He started to pull the fish in to have him alongside the skiff. I want to see him, he thought, and to touch and to feel him. He is my fortune, he thought. But that is not why I wish to feel him. I think I felt his heart when I pushed on the harpoon the second time. Bring him in now and get the noose around his tail and another around his middle to tie him to the skiff.
"Get to work, old man," he said. He took a very small drink of water. "There is much slave work to do now that the fight is over."
He looked up at the sky and then out to his fish.
"Come on, fish," he said. But the fish did not come, instead he lay there and the old man pulled the skiff up to him.
When the fish's head was against the bow he could not believe his size.
"It was the only way to kill him," the old man said, he was feeling better and his head was clear, he's over fifteen hundred pounds, he thought. Maybe much more.
"I think the great DiMaggio would be proud of me today."
He fastened the fish, to the bow, to the stem and to the middle thwart. He was so big it was like lashing a much bigger skiff alongside. He could see the fish and he had only to look at his hands and feel his back against the stem to know that this had truly happened and was not a dream.
They were sailing together lashed side by side and the old man thought, let him bring me in if it pleases him. I am only better than him through trickery and he meant me no harm.
It was an hour before the first shark hit him. The shark had come up from deep down in the water as the dark cloud of blood had settled and dispersed in the mile-deep sea. He had come up so fast that he broke the surface of the blue water and was in the sun. Then he fell back into the sea and picked up the scent and started following the skiff and the fish.
Sometimes he lost the scent. But he would pick it up again and he swam fast and hard. He was a very big Mako shark built to swim as fast as the fastest fish in the sea and everything about him was beautiful except his jaws. His back was as blue as a swordfish's and his belly was silver and his hide was smooth and handsome. Inside the closed double lip of his jaws all of his eight rows of teeth were slanted inwards. They were not the ordinary pyramid-shaped teeth of most sharks. They wore shaped like a man's fingers when they are curled like claws. They were nearly as long as the fingers of the old man and they had razor- sharp cutting edges on both sides.
When the old man saw him coming he knew that this was a shark that had no fear at all and would do exactly what he wished. He prepared the harpoon and the rope while he watched the shark come forward.
The old man's head was clear and good now and he was full of resolution but he had little hope. It was too good to last, he thought, it might as well have been a dream. I cannot keep him from hitting me but maybe I can get him. Dentuso, he thought. Bad luck to your mother.
When the shark hit the fish the old man saw his mouth open and his strange eyes. He heard the clicking sound of the teeth as he tore into the meat just above the tail. He rammed the harpoon down into the shark's head and into his brain. He hit it with his bloody hands driving the harpoon with all his strength. He hit it without hope but with resolution and complete malignancy.
The shark swung over and the old man saw his eye was not alive. The old man knew that he was dead but the shark would not accept it. It ploughed over the water as a speed boat does. Then he lay quietly for a little while and went down very slowly.
"He took about forty pounds and my harpoon," the old man said. He did not like to look at the fish any more since he had been mutilated. When the fish had been hit it was as though he himself were hit.
It was too good to last, he thought. I wish it had been a dream now and that I had never hooked the fish and was alone in bed on the newspapers.
"But man is not made for defeat," he said. "A man can be destroyed but not defeated." I am sorry that I killed the fish though, he thought. Now the bad time is coming and I do not even have the harpoon.
"Don't think, old man," he said aloud. "Sail on and take it when it comes."
He knew quite well the pattern of what could happen when he readied the inner part of the current. But there was nothing to be done now.
"Yes, there is," he said aloud. "I can lash my knife to the butt of one of the oars."
So he did that.
"Now, I am still an old man. But I am not unarmed."
He watched only the forward part of the fish and some of his hope returned.
It is silly not to hope, he thought. Besides I believe it is a sin. Do not think about sin. There are enough problems now without sin.
I have no understanding of it and I am not sure that I believe in it. Perhaps it was a sin to kill the fish. I suppose it was though I did it to keep me alive and feed many people. But then everything is a sin. Do not think about sin. You were born to be a fisherman.
You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he thought. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?
But you enjoyed killing the dentuso, he thought.
"I killed him in self-defense," the old man said aloud. "And I killed him well."
Besides, he thought, everything kills everything else in some way. Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The boy keeps me alive. I must not deceive myself too much.
他又试了一下，又是同样情形。原来如此，他想，还没动手就感到要垮下来了，我还要再试一下。
他忍住了一切痛楚，拿出剩余的力气和丧失已久的自傲，用来对付这鱼的痛苦挣扎，于是它游到了他的身边，在他身边斯文地游着，它的嘴几乎碰着了小船的船壳板，它开始在船边游过去，身子又长，又高，又宽，银色底上有着紫色条纹，在水里看来长得无穷无尽。
老人放下钓索，一脚踩住了，把鱼叉举得尽可能地高，使出全身的力气，加上他刚才鼓起的力气，把它朝下直扎进鱼身的一边，就在大胸鳍后面一点儿的地方，这胸鳍高高地竖立着，高齐老人的胸膛。他感到那铁叉扎了进去，就把身子倚在上面，把它扎得更深一点，再用全身的重量把它压下去。
于是那鱼闹腾起来，尽管死到临头了，它仍从水中高高跳起，把它那惊人的长度和宽度，它的力量和美，全都暴露无遗。它仿佛悬在空中，就在小船中老人的头顶上空。然后，它砰的一声掉在水里，浪花溅了老人一身，溅了一船。
老人感到头晕，恶心，看不大清楚东西。然而他放松了鱼叉上的绳子，让它从他划破了皮的双手之间慢慢地溜出去，等他的眼睛好使了，他看见那鱼仰天躺着，银色的肚皮朝上。鱼叉的柄从鱼的肩部斜截出来，海水被它心脏里流出的鲜血染红了。起先，这摊血黑魆魆的，如同这一英里多深的蓝色海水中的一块礁石。然后它象云彩般扩散开来。那鱼是银色的，一动不动地随着波浪浮动着。
老人用他偶尔着得清的眼睛仔细望着。接着他把鱼叉上的绳子在船头的系缆柱上绕了两圈，然后把脑袋搁在双手上。
“让我的头脑保持清醒吧，"他靠在船头的木板上说。"我是个疲乏的老头儿。可是我杀死了这条鱼，它是我的兄弟，现在我得去干辛苦的活儿了。”
现在我得准备好套索和绳子，把它绑在船边，他想。即使我这里有两个人，把船装满了水来把它拉上船，然后把水舀掉，这条小船也绝对容不下它。我得做好一切准备，然后把拖过来，好好绑住，竖起桅杆，张起帆驶回去。
他动手把鱼拖到船边，这样可以用一根绳子穿进它的鳃，从嘴里拉出来，把它的脑袋紧绑在船头边。我想看看它，他想，碰碰它，摸摸它。它是我的财产，他想。然而我想摸摸它倒不是为了这个。我以为刚才已经碰到了它的心脏，他想。那是在我第二次握着鱼叉的柄扎进去的时候。现在得把它拖过来，牢牢绑住，用一根套索拴住它的尾巴，另一根拴住它的腰部，把它绑牢在这小船上。
“动手干活吧，老头儿，"他说。他喝了很少的一口水。
“战斗既然结束了，就有好多辛苦的活儿要干呢。”
他抬头望望天空，然后望望船外的鱼。他仔细望望太阳。晌午才过了没多少时候，他想。而贸易风刮起来了。这些钓索现在都用不着了。回家以后，那孩子和我要把它们捻接起来。
“过来吧，鱼，"他说。可是这鱼不过来。它反而躺在海面上翻滚着，老人只得把小船驶到它的身边。
等他跟它并拢了，并把鱼的头靠在船头边，他简直无法相信它竟这么大。他从系缆柱上解下鱼叉柄上的绳子，穿进鱼鳃，从嘴里拉出来，在它那剑似的长上颚上绕了一圈，然后穿过另一个鱼鳃，在剑嘴上绕了一圈，把这双股绳子挽了个结，紧系在船头的系缆柱上。然后他割下一截绳子，走到船梢去套住鱼尾巴。鱼已经从原来的紫银两色变成了纯银色，条纹和尾巴显出同样的淡紫色。这些条纹比一个人揸开五指的手更宽，它的眼睛看上去冷漠得象潜望镜中的反射镜，或者迎神行列中的圣徒像。
“要杀死它只有用这个办法，”老人说。他喝了水，觉得好过些了，知道自己不会垮，头脑很清醒。看样子它不止一千五百磅重，他想。也许还要重得多。如果去掉了头尾和下脚，肉有三分之二的重量，照三角钱一磅计算，该是多少？
“我需要一支铅笔来计算，"他说。"我的头脑并不清醒到这个程度啊。不过，我想那了不起的迪马吉奥今天会替我感到骄傲。我没有长骨刺。可是双手和背脊实在痛得厉害。"不知道骨刺是什么玩意儿，他想。也许我们都长着它，自己不知道。
他把鱼紧系在船头、船梢和中央的座板上。它真大，简直象在船边绑上了另一只大得多的船。他割下一段钓索，把鱼的下颌和它的长上颚扎在一起，使它的嘴不能张开，船就可以尽可能干净利落地行驶了。然后他竖起桅杆，装上那根当鱼钩用的棍子和下桁，张起带补丁的帆，船开始移动，他半躺在船梢，向西南方驶去。
他不需要罗盘来告诉他西南方在哪里。他只消凭贸易风吹在身上的感觉和帆的动向就能知道。我还是放一根系着匙形假饵的细钓丝到水里去，钓些什么东西来吃吃吧，也可以润润嘴。可是他找不到匙形假饵，他的沙丁鱼也都腐臭了。所以他趁船经过的时候用鱼钩钩上了一簇黄色的马尾藻，把它抖抖，使里面的小虾掉在小船船板上。小虾总共有一打以上，蹦跳着，甩着脚，象沙蚤一般。老人用拇指和食指掐去它们的头，连壳带尾巴嚼着吃下去。它们很小，可是他知道它们富有营养，而且味道也好。
老人瓶中还有两口水，他吃了虾以后，喝了半口。考虑到这小船的不利条件，它行驶得可算好了，他把舵柄挟在胳肢窝里，掌着舵。他看得见鱼，他只消看看自己的双手，感觉到背脊靠在船梢上，就能知道这是确实发生的事儿，不是一场梦。有一个时期，眼看事情要告吹了，他感到非常难受，以为这也许是一场梦。等他后来看到鱼跃出水面，在落下前一动不动地悬在半空中的那一刹那，他确信此中准有什么莫大的奥秘，使他无法相信。当时他看不大清楚，尽管眼下他又象往常那样看得很清楚了。
现在他知道这鱼就在这里，他的双手和背脊都不是梦中的东西。这双手很快就会痊愈的，他想。它们出血出得很多，海水会把它们治好的。这真正的海湾中的深暗的水是世上最佳的治疗剂。我只消保持头脑清醒就行。这两只手已经尽了自己的本份，我们航行得很好。鱼闭着嘴，尾巴直上直下地竖着，我们象亲兄弟一样航行着。接着他的头脑有点儿不清楚了，他竟然想起，是它在带我回家，还是我在带它回家呢？如果我把它拖在船后，那就毫无疑问了。如果这鱼丢尽了面子，给放在这小船上，那么也不会有什么疑问。可是他们是并排地拴在一起航行的，所以老人想，只要它高兴，让它把我带回家去得了。我不过靠了诡计才比它强的，可它对我并无恶意。
他们航行得很好，老人把手浸在盐水里，努力保持头脑清醒。积云堆聚得很高，上空还有相当多的卷云，因此老人看出这风将刮上整整一夜。老人时常对鱼望望，好确定真有这么回事。这时候是第一条鲨鱼来袭击它的前一个钟点。
这条鲨鱼的出现不是偶然的。当那一大片暗红的血朝一英里深的海里下沉并扩散的时候，它从水底深处上来了。它窜上来得那么快，全然不顾一切，竟然冲破了蓝色的水面，来到了阳光里。跟着它又掉回海里，嗅到了血腥气的踪迹，就顺着小船和那鱼所走的路线游去。
有时候它迷失了那气味。但是它总会重新嗅到，或者就嗅到那么一点儿，它就飞快地使劲跟上。它是条很大的灰鲭鲨，生就一副好体格，能游得跟海里最快的鱼一般快，周身的一切都很美，除了它的上下颚。它的背部和剑鱼的一般蓝，肚子是银色的，鱼皮光滑而漂亮。它长得和剑鱼一般，除了它那张正紧闭着的大嘴，它眼下就在水面下迅速地游着，高耸的脊鳍象刀子般划破水面，一点也不抖动。在这紧闭着的双唇里面，八排牙齿全都朝里倾斜着。它们和大多数鲨鱼的不同，不是一般的金字塔形的。它们象爪子般蜷曲起来的人的手指。它们几乎跟这老人的手指一般长，两边都有刀片般锋利的快口。这种鱼生就拿海里所有的鱼当食料，它们游得那么快，那么壮健，武器齐备，以致所向无敌。它闻到了这新鲜的血腥气，此刻正加快了速度，蓝色的脊鳍划破了水面。老人看见它在游来，看出这是条毫无畏惧而坚决为所欲为的鲨鱼。他准备好了鱼叉，系紧了绳子，一面注视着鲨鱼向前游来。绳子短了，缺了他割下用来绑鱼的那一截。老人此刻头脑清醒，正常，充满了决心，但并不抱着多少希望。光景太好了，不可能持久的，他想。他注视着鲨鱼在逼近，抽空朝那条大鱼望上一眼。这简直等于是一场梦，他想。我没法阻止它来袭击我，但是也许我能弄死它。登多索鲨，他想。你它妈交上坏运啦。①
鲨鱼飞速地逼近船梢，它袭击那鱼的时候，老人看见它张开了嘴，看见它那双奇异的眼睛，它咬住鱼尾巴上面一点儿的地方，牙齿咬得嘎吱嘎吱地响。鲨鱼的头露出在水面上，背部正在出水，老人听见那条大鱼的皮肉被撕裂的声音，这时候，他用鱼叉朝下猛地扎进鲨鱼的脑袋，正扎在它两眼之间的那条线和从鼻子笔直通到脑后的那条线的交叉点上。这两条线实在是并不存在的。只有那沉重、尖锐的蓝色脑袋，两只大眼睛和那嘎吱作响、吞噬一切的突出的两颚。可是那儿
①原文为Ｄｅｎｔｕｓｏ，以西班牙语，意为"牙齿锋利的"，这是当地对灰鲭鲨的俗称。
正是脑子的所在，老人直朝它扎去。他使出全身的力气，用糊着鲜血的双手，把一支好鱼叉向它扎去。他扎它，并不抱着希望，但是带着决心和十足的恶意。
鲨鱼翻了个身，老人看出它眼睛里已经没有生气了，跟着它又翻了个身，自行缠上了两道绳子。老人知道这鲨鱼快死了，但它还是不肯认输。它这时肚皮朝上，尾巴扑打着，两颚嘎吱作响，象一条快艇般划奇水面。它的尾巴把水拍打得泛出白色，四分之三的身体露出在水面上，这时绳子给绷紧了，抖了一下，啪地断了。鲨鱼在水面上静静地躺了片刻，老人紧盯着它。然后它慢慢地沉下去了。
“它吃掉了约莫四十磅肉，"老人说出声来。它把我的鱼叉也带走了，还有那么许多绳子，他想，而且现在我这条鱼又在淌血，其他鲨鱼也会来的。
他不忍心再朝这死鱼看上一眼，因为它已经被咬得残缺不全了。鱼挨到袭击的时候，他感到就象自己挨到袭击一样。可是我杀死了这条袭击我的鱼的鲨鱼，他想。而它是我见到过的最大的登多索鲨。天知道，我见过一些大的。
光景太好了，不可能持久的，他想。但愿这是一场梦，我根本没有钓到这条鱼，正独自躺在床上铺的旧报纸上。
“不过人不是为失败而生的，"他说。“一个人可以被毁灭，但不能给打败。"不过我很痛心，把这鱼给杀了，他想。现在倒霉的时刻要来了，可我连鱼叉也没有。这条登多索鲨是残忍、能干、强壮而聪明的。但是我比它更聪明。也许并不，他想。也许我仅仅是武器比它强。
“别想啦，老家伙，"他说出声来。"顺着这航线行驶，事到临头再对付吧。”但是我一定要想，他想。因为我只剩下这个了。这个，还有棒球。不知道那了不起的迪马吉奥可会喜欢我那样击中它的脑子？这不是什么了不起的事儿，他想。任何人都做得到。但是，你可以为，我这双受伤的手跟骨刺一样是个很大的不利条件？我没法知道。我的脚后跟从没出过毛病，除了有一次在游水时踩着了一条海鳐鱼，被它扎了一下，小腿麻痹了，痛得真受不了。
“想点开心的事儿吧，老家伙，"他说。"每过一分钟，你就离家近一步。丢了四十磅鱼肉，你航行起来更轻快了。"他很清楚，等他驶进了海流的中部，会发生什么事。可是眼下一点办法也没有。
“不，有办法，"他说出声来。"我可以把刀子绑在一支桨的把子上。”
于是他胳肢窝里挟着舵柄，一只脚踩住了帆脚索，就这样办了。
“行了，"他说。"我照旧是个老头儿。不过我不是没有武器的了。”
这时风刮得强劲些了，他顺利地航行着。他只顾盯着鱼的上半身，恢复了一点儿希望。
不抱希望才蠢哪，他想。再说，我认为这是一桩罪过。别想罪过了，他想。麻烦已经够多了，还想什么罪过。何况我根本不懂这个。
我根本不懂这个，也说不准我是不是相信。也许杀死这条鱼是一桩罪过。我看该是的，尽管我是为了养活自己并且给许多人吃用才这样干的。不过话得说回来，什么事都是罪过啊。别想罪过了吧。现在想它也实在太迟了，而且有些人是拿了钱来干这个的。让他们去考虑吧。你天生是个渔夫，正如那鱼天生就是一条鱼一样。圣彼德罗①是个渔夫，跟那了不起的迪马吉奥的父亲一样。
但是他喜欢去想一切他给卷在里头的事，而且因为没有书报可看，又没有收音机，他就想得很多，只顾想着罪过。你不光是为了养活自己、把鱼卖了买食品才杀死它的，他想。你杀死它是为了自尊心，因为你是个渔夫。它活着的时候你爱它，它死了你还是爱它。如果你爱它，杀死它就不是罪过。也许是更大的罪过吧？
“你想得太多了，老家伙，"他说出声来。但是你很乐意杀死那条登多索鲨，他想。它跟你一样，靠吃活鱼维持生命。它不是食腐动物，也不象有些鲨鱼那样，只知道游来游去满足食欲。它是美丽而崇高的，见什么都不怕。"我杀死它是为了自卫，"老人说出声来。"杀得也很利索。”
再说，他想，每样东西都杀死别的东西，不过方式不同罢了。捕鱼养活了我，同样也快把我害死了。那孩子使我活得下去，他想。我不能过分地欺骗自己。