He had been sailing for two hours when he saw the first of the two sharks. "Galanos," he said aloud.
He took up the oar with the knife lashed to it. He lifted it as lightly as he could because his hands rebelled at the pain, and he watched the sharks come.
They were hateful sharks, bad-smelling scavengers as well as killers, and when they were hungry they would bite at an oar or the rudder of a boat.
"Ay," the old man said. "Galanos. Come on, galanos."
They came. One turned and went out of sight under the skiff and the old man could feel the skiff shake as he jerked and pulled on the fish. The other watched the old man with his yellow eyes and then came in fast to hit the fish where he had already been bitten. A line showed clearly on the top of his brown head and back where the brain joined the spinal cord and the old man drove the knife on the oar into the brain, withdrew it, and drove it in again into the shark's yellow cat-like eyes. The shark let go of the fish and slid down, swallowing what he had taken as he died.
When he saw the other shark he leaned over the side and punched him. The blow hurt his hands and his shoulder. But the shark came up fast with his head out and the old man hit him squarely in the center of his flat-topped head. The old man withdrew the blade and punched the shark exactly in the same spot again. The old man stabbed him in his left eye but the shark still hung there.
"No?" the old man said and he drove the blade between the vertebrae and the brain and he felt the cartilage break.
"Go on, galano. Slide down a mile deep. Go and see your friend, or maybe it's your mother."
The old man wiped the blade of his knife and laid down the oar. Then he brought the skiff onto her course.
"They must have taken a quarter of him and of the best meat," he said aloud. "I wish it were a dream and that I had never hooked him. I'm sorry about it, fish. It makes everything wrong." He stopped and he did not want to look at the fish now.
"I shouldn't have gone out so far, fish," he said. "Neither for you nor for me. I'm sorry, fish. God knows how much that last one took," he continued. "But she's much lighter now." He did not want to think of the mutilated under-side of the fish.
He was a fish to keep a man all winter, he thought. Don't think of that. Just rest and try to get your hands in shape to defend what is left of him.
The next shark that came was a single shovel-nose.
He came like a pig to the trough if a pig had a mouth so wide that you could put your head in it. The old man let him hit the fish and then drove the knife on the oar down into his brain. But tire shark jerked backwards as he rolled and the knife blade snapped.
The old man did not even watch the big shark sinking slowly in the water. "I have the gaff now." he said. "But it will do no good. I have the two oars
and the tiller and the short dub."
Now they have beaten me, he thought. I am too old to club sharks to death.
But I will try it as long as I have the oars and the short club and the tiller.
It was getting late in the afternoon and he saw nothing but the sea and the
sky.
"You're tired, old man," he said. "You're tired inside." The sharks did not
hit him again until just before sunset.
He blocked the tiller and reached under the stern for the club. It was an oar handle from a broken oar.
The two sharks closed together and as he saw the one nearest him open his jaws and sink them into the silver side of the fish, he raised the club high and brought it down heavy on the top of the shark's broad head. He struck the shark once more hard across the point of the nose as he slid down from the fish.
The other shark now came in again with his jaws wide. The old man could see pieces of the meat of the fish spilling white from the corner of his jaws. He swung at him and hit only the head and the shark looked at him and tore the meat loose. The old man swung the club down on him again.
"Come on, galano," the old man said. "Come in again."
The shark came in and the old man hit him as he shut his jaws. He hit him solidly and front as high up as he could raise the club. This time he felt the bone at the base of the brain and he hit him again in the same place. The old man watched but neither shark returned.
He did not want to look at the fish. He knew that half of him had been destroyed. The sun had gone down while he had been fighting the sharks.
"It will be dark soon." he said. "Then I should see the glow of Havana. If I am too far to the east I will see the lights of one of the new beaches."
He could not talk to the fish anymore because the fish had been ruined too badly. Then something came into his head.
"Half-fish," he said. "Fish that you were. I am sorry that went too far out. I ruined us both. But we have killed many sharks, you and I, and ruined many others. How many did you ever kill, old fish? You do not have that spear on your head for nothing."
I have half of him. he thought. Maybe I'll have the luck to bring the forward half in. I should have some luck. ''No," he said. "You violated your luck when you went too far outside."
"Don't be silly," he said aloud. "You may have much luck yet. I'd like to buy some if there were any place they sell it," he said.
What could I buy it with? he asked himself. Could I buy it with a lost harpoon and a broken knife and two bad hands?
"You might," he said. "You tried to buy it with eighty-four days at sea. They nearly sold it to you too." He saw the reflected glare of the lights of the city at what must have been around ten o'clock at night. He steered inside of the glow and he thought that now, soon, he must hit the edge of the stream.
Now it is over, he thought. They will probably hit me again. But what can a man do against them in the dark without a weapon? I hope I do not have to fight again, he thought.
But by midnight he fought and this time he knew the fight was useless. They came in a pack. He dubbed desperately at what he could only feel and hear and he felt something seize the dub and it was gone. He jerked the tiller free from the rudder and beat and chopped with it holding it in both hands and driving it down again and again.
One came, finally, against the head itself and he knew that it was over. He swung the tiller across the shark's head. He swung it once and twice and again. The shark let go and rolled away. That was the last shark of the pack that came. There was nothing more for them to eat.
The old man could hardly breathe now and he felt a strange taste in his mouth. It was coppery and sweet and he was afraid of it for a moment. He spat into the ocean and said, "Eat that, galanos."
He knew he was beaten now finally and without remedy. He put the sack around his shoulders and put the skiff on her course. He had no thoughts nor any feelings of any kind. He only noticed how lightly and how well the skiff sailed now that there was no great weight beside her.
He could feel he was inside the current now and he could see the lights of the beach along the shore.
When he sailed into the little harbor the lights of the Terrace were out and he knew everyone was in bed. He pulled the boat up and then he stepped out and tied her to a rock. He took the mast out of its step and furled the sail and tied it. Then he put the mast on his shoulder and started to climb, it was then that he knew the depth of his tiredness. He stopped and looked back and saw the white naked line of the fish's backbone and the dark mass of the head with the bill and all the nakedness in between.
He started to climb again and at the top he fell and lay for some time with the mast across his shoulder. He tried to get up. But it was too difficult and he sat there with the mast on his shoulder.
Finally he put the mast down and stood up. He picked the mast up and put it on his shoulder and started up the road. He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.
Inside the shack he leaned the mast against the wall. In the dark he found a water bottle and took a drink. Then he lay down on the bed. He pulled the blanket over his body and he slept face down on the newspapers with his arms out straight and the palms of his hands up.
He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning. The boy saw the old man's hands and he started to cry. He went out very quietly to get some coffee and all the way down the road he was crying.
Many fishermen were around the skiff looking at what was lashed beside it and one was in the water, his trousers rolled up, measuring the skeleton.
The boy did not go down. He had been there before and one of the fishermen was looking after the skiff for him.
"How is he?" one of the fishermen shouted.
"Sleeping," the boy called. He did not care that they saw him crying. "Let no one disturb him."
"He was eighteen feet from nose to tail," the fisherman who was measuring him called.
"I believe it." the boy said.
He went into the Terrace and asked for a can of coffee. "Hot and with plenty of milk and sugar in it." "Anything more?"
"No. Afterwards I will see what he can eat."
"What a fish it was," the proprietor said. "There has never been such a fish.
Tell him how sorry l am." "Thanks," the boy said.
The boy carried the hot can of coffee up to the old man's shack and sat by him until he woke.
Finally the old man woke.
"Don't sit up," the boy said. "Drink this." He poured some of the coffee in a glass.
The old man took it and drank it.
"They beat me, Manolin," he said. "They truly beat me." "He didn't beat you. Not the fish."
"No. Truly. It was afterwards."
"Pedrico is looking after the skiff and the gear. What do you want done with the head?"
"Let Pedrico chop it up to use in fish traps." "And the spear?"
"You keep it if you want it."
"I want it," the boy said. "Now we must make our plans about the other things."
"Did they search for me?"
"Of course. With coast guard and with planes."
"The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see," the old man said. He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea.
"I missed you," he said. "What did you catch?"
"One the first day. One the second and two the third." "Very good."
"Now we can fish together again."
"No. I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore."
"The hell with luck," the boy said. "I'll bring the luck with me." "What will your family say?"
"I do not care. I caught two yesterday. But we will fish together now for I still have much to learn. You get your hands well, old man."
"I know how to care for them. In the night I spat something strange and felt something in my chest was broken."
"Get that well too," the boy said. "Lie down, old man. I will bring you your clean shirt. And something to eat."
"Bring any of the papers of the time that I was gone," the old man said. "You must get well fast for there is much that I can learn and you can teach
me everything. How much did you suffer?"
"Plenty," the old man said.
"I'll bring the food and the papers," the boy said. "Rest well, old man. I will bring something from the drugstore for your hands."
As the boy went out the door and down the road he was crying again.
That afternoon there was a party of tourists at the Terrace and looking down in the water among the empty beer cans and dead barracudas a woman saw a great long white spine with a huge tail at the end that lifted and swung with the tide.
"What's that?" she asked a waiter and pointed to the long backbone of the
great fish that was now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide.
"Tiburon," the waiter said, "Eshark." He wanted to explain what had happened.
"I didn't know sharks had such handsome, beautifully formed tails." "I didn't either." her male companion said.
Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.
- THE END -
他把身子探出船舷，从鱼身上被鲨鱼咬过的地方撕下一块肉。他咀嚼着，觉得肉质很好，味道鲜美。又坚实又多汁，象牲口的肉，不过不是红色的。一点筋也没有，他知道在市场上能卖最高的价钱。可是没有办法让它的气味不散布到水里去，老人知道糟糕透顶的时刻就快来到了。
①即耶稣刚开始传道时，在加利利海边所收的最早的四个门徒之一彼得。
风持续地吹着。它稍微转向东北方，他明白这表明它不会停息。老人朝前方望去，不见一丝帆影，也看不见任何一只船的船身或冒出来的烟。只有从他船头下跃起的飞鱼，向两边逃去，还有一摊摊黄色的马尾藻。他连一只鸟也看不见。他已经航行了两个钟点，在船梢歇着，有时候从大马林鱼身上撕下一点肉来咀嚼着，努力休息，保持精力，这时他看到了两条鲨鱼中首先露面的那一条。
“Ａｙ，"他说出声来。这个词儿是没法翻译的，也许不过是一声叫喊，就象一个人觉得钉子穿过他的双手，钉进木头时不由自主地发出的声音。
“加拉诺鲨，"他说出声来。他看见另一个鳍在第一个的①背后冒出水来，根据这褐色的三角形鳍和甩来甩去的尾巴，认出它们正是铲鼻鲨。它们嗅到了血腥味，很兴奋，因为饿昏了头，它们激动得一会儿迷失了臭迹，一会儿又嗅到了。可是它们始终在逼近。
老人系紧帆脚索，卡住了舵柄。然后他拿起上面绑着刀子的桨。他尽量轻地把它举起来，因为他那双手痛得不听使唤了。然后他把手张开，再轻轻捏住了桨，让双手松弛下来。他紧紧地把手合拢，让它们忍受着痛楚而不致缩回去，一面注视着鲨鱼在过来。他这时看得见它们那又宽又扁的铲子形的头，和尖端呈白色的宽阔的胸鳍。它们是可恶的鲨鱼，气味难闻，既杀害其他的鱼，也吃腐烂的死鱼，饥饿的时候，它
①原文为Ｇａｌａｎｏ，西班牙语，意为"豪侠、优雅"，在这里又可解作"杂色斑驳的"，也是一种鲨鱼的俗称。
们会咬船上的一把桨或者舵。就是这些鲨鱼，会趁海龟在水面上睡觉的时候咬掉它们的脚和鳍状肢，如果碰到饥饿的时候，也会在水里袭击人，即使这人身上并没有鱼血或黏液的腥味。
“Ａｙ，”老人说。“加拉诺鲨。来吧，加拉诺鲨。”
它们来啦。但是它们来的方式和那条灰鲭鲨的不同。一条鲨鱼转了个身，钻到小船底下不见了，它用嘴拉扯着死鱼，老人觉得小船在晃动。另一条用它一条缝似的黄眼睛注视着老人，然后飞快地游来，半圆形的上下颚大大地张开着，朝鱼身上被咬过的地方咬去。它褐色的头顶以及脑子跟脊髓相连处的背脊上有道清清楚楚的纹路，老人把绑在桨上的刀子朝那交叉点扎进去，拔出来，再扎进这鲨鱼的黄色猫眼。鲨鱼放开了咬住的鱼，身子朝下溜，临死时还把咬下的肉吞了下去。
另一条鲨鱼正在咬啃那条鱼，弄得小船还在摇晃，老人就放松了帆脚索，让小船横过来，使鲨鱼从船底下暴露出来。？”他一看见鲨鱼，就从船舷上探出身子，一桨朝它戳去。他只戳在肉上，但鲨鱼的皮紧绷着，刀子几乎戳不进去。这一戳不仅震痛了他那双手，也震痛了他的肩膀。但是鲨鱼迅速地浮上来，露出了脑袋，老人趁它的鼻子伸出水面挨上那条鱼的时候，对准它扁平的脑袋正中扎去。老人拔出刀刃，朝同一地方又扎了那鲨鱼一下。它依旧紧锁着上下颚，咬住了鱼不放，老人一刀戳进它的左眼。鲨鱼还是吊在那里。
“还不够吗？"老人说着，把刀刃戳进它的脊骨和脑子之间。这时扎起来很容易，他感到它的软骨折断了。老人把桨倒过来，把刀刃插进鲨鱼的两颚之间，想把它的嘴撬开。他把刀刃一转，鲨鱼松了嘴溜开了，他说："走吧，加拉诺鲨，溜到一英里深的水里去吧。去找你的朋友，也许那是你的妈妈吧。”
老人擦了擦刀刃，把桨放下。然后他摸到了帆脚索，张起帆来，使小船顺着原来的航线走。
“它们一定把这鱼吃掉了四分之一，而且都是上好的肉，”他说出声来。"但愿这是一场梦，我压根儿没有钓到它。我为这件事感到真抱歉，鱼啊。这把一切都搞糟啦。"他顿住了，此刻不想朝鱼望了。它流尽了血，被海水冲刷着，看上去象镜子背面镀的银色，身上的条纹依旧看得出来。“我原不该出海这么远的，鱼啊，"他说。"对你对我都不好。我很抱歉，鱼啊。”
得了，他对自己说。去看看绑刀子的绳子，看看有没有断。然后把你的手弄好，因为还有鲨鱼要来。
“但愿有块石头可以磨磨刀，"老人检查了绑在桨把子上的刀子后说。"我原该带一块磨石来的。"你应该带来的东西多着哪，他想。但是你没有带来，老家伙啊。眼下可不是想你什么东西没有带的时候，想想你用手头现有的东西能做什么事儿吧。
“你给了我多少忠告啊，"他说出声来。"我听得厌死啦。”他把舵柄夹在胳肢窝里，双手浸在水里，小船朝前驶去。"天知道最后那条就鲨鱼咬掉了多少鱼肉，"他说。"这船现在可轻得多了。"他不愿去想那鱼残缺不全的肚子。他知道鲨鱼每次猛地撞上去，总要撕去一点肉，还知道鱼此刻给所有的鲨鱼留下了一道臭迹，宽得象海面上的一条公路一样。
它是条大鱼，可以供养一个人整整一冬，他想。别想这个啦。还是休息休息，把你的手弄弄好，保护这剩下的鱼肉吧。水里的血腥气这样浓，我手上的血腥气就算不上什么了。开说，这双手上出的血也不多。给割奇的地方都算不上什么。出血也许能使我的左手不再抽筋。
我现在还有什么事可想？他想。什么也没有。我必须什么也不想，等待下一条鲨鱼来。但愿这真是一场梦，他想。不过谁说得准呢？也许结果会是好的。
接着来的鲨鱼是条单独的铲鼻鲨。看它的来势，就象一头猪奔向饲料槽，如果说猪能有这么大的嘴，你可以把脑袋伸进去的话。老人让它咬住了鱼，然后把桨上绑着的刀子扎进它的脑子。但是鲨鱼朝后猛地一扭，打了个滚，刀刃啪地一声断了。
老人坐定下来掌舵。他都不去看那条大鲨鱼在水里慢慢地下沉，它起先是原来那么大，然后渐渐小了，然后只剩一丁点儿了。这种情景总叫老人看得入迷。可是这会他看也不看一眼。
“我现在还有那根鱼钩，"他说。"不过它没什么用处。我还有两把桨和那个舵把和那根短棍。”
它们如今可把我打败了，他想。我太老了，不能用棍子打死鲨鱼了。但是只要我有桨和短棍和舵把，我就要试试。他又把双手浸在水里泡着。下午渐渐过去，快近傍晚了，他除了海洋和天空，什么也看不见。空中的风比刚才大了，他指望不久就能看到陆地。
“你累乏了，老家伙，"他说。"你骨子里累乏了。”
直到快日落的时候，鲨鱼才再来袭击它。
老人看见两片褐色的鳍正顺着那鱼必然在水里留下的很宽的臭迹游来。它们竟然不用到处来回搜索这臭迹。它们笔直地并肩朝小船游来。
他刹住了舵把，系紧帆脚索，伸手到船梢下去拿棍子。它原是个桨把，是从一支断桨上锯下的，大约两英尺半长。因为它上面有个把手，他只能用一只手有效地使用，于是他就用右手好好儿攥住了它，弯着手按在上面，一面望着鲨鱼在过来。两条都是加拉诺鲨。
我必须让第一条鲨鱼好好咬住了才打它的鼻尖，或者直朝它头顶正中打去，他想。
两条鲨鱼一起紧逼过来，他一看到离他较近的那条张开嘴直咬进那鱼的银色胁腹，就高高举起棍子，重重地打下去，砰的一声打在鲨鱼宽阔的头顶上。棍子落下去，他觉得好象打在坚韧的橡胶上。但他也感觉到坚硬的骨头，他就趁鲨鱼从那鱼身上朝下溜的当儿，再重重地朝它鼻尖上打了一下。
另一条鲨鱼刚才窜来后就走了，这时又张大了嘴扑上来。它直撞在鱼身上，闭上两颚，老人看见一块块白色的鱼肉从它嘴角漏出来。他抡起棍子朝它打去，只打中了头部，鲨鱼朝他看看，把咬在嘴里的肉一口撕下了。老人趁它溜开去把肉咽下时，又抡起棍子朝它打下去，只打中了那厚实而坚韧的橡胶般的地方。
“来吧，加拉诺鲨，”老人说。“再过来吧。”
鲨鱼冲上前来，老人趁它合上两颚时给了它一下。他结结实实地打中了它，是把棍子举得尽量高才打下去的。这一回他感到打中了脑子后部的骨头，于是朝同一部位又是一下，鲨鱼呆滞地撕下嘴里咬着的鱼肉，从鱼身边溜下去了。
老人守望着，等它再来，可是两条鲨鱼都没有露面。接着他看见其中的一条在海面上绕着圈儿游着。他没有看见另外一条的鳍。
我没法指望打死它们了，他想。我年轻力壮时能行。不过我已经把它们俩都打得受了重伤，它们中哪一条都不会觉得好过。要是我能用双手抡起一根棒球棒，我准能把第一条打死。即使现在也能行，他想。
他不愿朝那条鱼看。他知道它的半个身子已经被咬烂了。他刚才跟鲨鱼搏斗的时候，太阳已经落下去了。
“马上就要断黑了，"他说。"那时候我将看见哈瓦那的灯火。如果我往东走得太远了，我会看见一个新开辟的海滩上的灯光。”
我现在离陆地不会太远，他想。我希望没人为此担心。当然啦，只有那孩子会担心。可是我相信他一定有信心。好多老渔夫也会担心的。还有不少别的人，他想。我住在一个好镇子里啊。
他不能再跟这鱼说话了，因为它给糟蹋得太厉害了。接着他头脑里想起了一件事。
“半条鱼，"他说。"你原来是条完整的。我很抱歉，我出海太远了。我把你我都毁了。不过我们杀死了不少鲨鱼，你跟我一起，还打伤了好多条。你杀死过多少啊，好鱼？你头上长着那只长嘴，可不是白长的啊。”
他喜欢想到这条鱼，想到如果它在自由地游着，会怎样去对付一条鲨鱼。我应该砍下它这长嘴，拿来跟那些鲨鱼斗，他想。但是没有斧头，后来又弄丢了那把刀子。
但是，如果我把它砍下了，就能把它绑在桨把上，该是多好的武器啊。这样，我们就能一起跟它们斗啦。要是它们夜里来，你该怎么办？你又有什么办法？
“跟它们斗，"他说。"我要跟它们斗到死。”
但是，在眼下的黑暗里，看不见天际的反光，也看不见灯火，只有风和那稳定地拉曳着的帆，他感到说不定自己已经死了。他合上双手，摸摸掌心。这双手没有死，他只消把它们开合一下，就能感到生之痛楚。他把背脊靠在船梢上，知道自己没有死。这是他的肩膀告诉他的。
我许过愿，如果逮住了这条鱼，要念多少遍祈祷文，他不过我现在太累了，没法念。我还是把麻袋拿来披在肩上。
他躺在船梢掌着舵，注视着天空，等着天际的反光出现。我还有半条鱼，他想。也许我运气好，能把前半条带回去。我总该多少有点运气吧。不，他说。你出海太远了，把好运给冲掉啦。
“别傻了，"他说出声来。"保持清醒，掌好舵。你也许还有很大的好运呢。”
“要是有什么地方卖好运，我倒想买一些，"他说。我能拿什么来买呢？他问自己。能用一支弄丢了的鱼叉、一把折断的刀子和两只受了伤的手吗？
“也许能，"他说。"你曾想拿在海上的八十四天来买它。人家也几乎把它卖给了你。”
我不能胡思乱想，他想。好运这玩意儿，来的时候有许多不同的方式，谁认得出啊？可是不管什么样的好运，我都要一点儿，要多少钱就给多少。但愿我能看到灯火的反光，他想。我的愿望太多了。但眼下的愿望就只有这个了。他竭力坐得舒服些，好好掌舵，因为感到疼痛，知道自己并没有死。
大约夜里十点的时候，他看见了城市的灯火映在天际的反光。起初只能依稀看出，就象月亮升起前天上的微光。然后一步步地清楚了，就在此刻正被越来越大的风刮得波涛汹涌的海洋的另一边。他驶进了这反光的圈子，他想，要不了多久就能驶到湾流的边缘了。
现在事情过去了，他想。它们也许还会再来袭击我。不过，一个人在黑夜里，没有武器，怎样能对付它们呢？他这时身子僵硬、疼痛，在夜晚的寒气里，他的伤口和身上所有用力过度的地方都在发痛。我希望不必再斗了，他想。我真希望不必再斗了。
但是到了午夜，他又搏斗了，而这一回他明白搏斗也是徒劳。它们是成群袭来的，朝那鱼直扑，他只看见它们的鳍在水面上划出的一道道线，还有它们的磷光。他朝它们的头打去，听到上下颚啪地咬住的声音，还有它们在船底下咬住了鱼使船摇晃的声音。他看不清目标，只能感觉到，听到，就不顾死活地挥棍打去，他感到什么东西攫住了棍子，它就此丢了。
他把舵把从舵上猛地扭下，用它又打又砍，双手攥住了一次次朝下戳去。可是它们此刻都在前面船头边，一条接一条地窜上来，成群地一起来，咬下一块块鱼肉，当它们转身再来时，这些鱼肉在水面下发亮。
最后，有条鲨鱼朝鱼头起来，他知道这下子可完了。他把舵把朝鲨鱼的脑袋抡去，打在它咬住厚实的鱼头的两颚上，那儿的肉咬不下来。他抡了一次，两次，又一次。他听见舵把啪的断了，就把断下的把手向鲨鱼扎去。他感到它扎了进去，知道它很尖利，就再把它扎进去。鲨鱼松了嘴，一翻身就走了。这是前来的这群鲨鱼中最末的一条。它们再也没有什么可吃的了。
老人这时简直喘不过起来，觉得嘴里有股怪味儿。这味儿带着铜腥气，甜滋滋的，他一时害怕起来。但是这味儿并不太浓。
他朝海里啐了一口说："把它吃了，加拉诺鲨。做个梦吧，梦见你杀了一个人。”
他明白他如今终于给打败了，没法补救了，就回到船梢，发现舵把那锯齿形的断头还可以安在舵的狭槽里，让他用来掌舵。他把麻袋在肩头围围好，使小船顺着航线驶去。航行得很轻松，他什么念头都没有，什么感觉也没有。他此刻超脱了这一切，只顾尽可能出色而明智地把小船驶回他家乡的港口。夜里有些鲨鱼来咬这死鱼的残骸，就象人从饭桌上捡面包屑吃一样。老人不去理睬它们，除了掌舵以外他什么都不理睬。他只留意到船舷边没有什么沉重的东西，小船这时驶来多么轻松，多么出色。
船还是好好的，他想。它是完好的，没受一点儿损伤，除了那个舵把。那是容易更换的。
他感觉到已经在湾流中行驶，看得见沿岸那些海滨住宅区的灯光了。他知道此刻到了什么地方，回家是不在话下了。不管怎么样，风总是我们的朋友，他想。然后他加上一句：有时候是。还有大海，海里有我们的朋友，也有我们的敌人。还有床，他想。床是我的朋友。光是床，他想。床将是样了不起的东西。吃了败仗，上床是很舒服的，他想。我从来不知道竟然这么舒服。那么是什么把你打败的，他想。"什么也没有，"他说出声来。"只怪我出海太远了。”
等他驶进小港，露台饭店的灯光全熄灭了，他知道人们都上床了。海风一步步加强，此刻刮得很猛了。然而港湾里静悄悄的，他直驶到岩石下一小片卵石滩前。没人来帮他的忙，他只好尽自己的力量把船划得紧靠岸边。然后他跨出船来，把它系在一块岩石上。
他拔下桅杆，把帆卷起，系住。然后他打起桅杆往岸上爬。这时候他才明白自己疲乏到什么程度。他停了一会儿，回头一望，在街灯的反光中，看见那鱼的大尾巴直竖在小船船梢后边。他看清它赤露的脊骨象一条白线，看清那带着突出的长嘴的黑糊糊的脑袋，而在这头尾之间却一无所有。
他再往上爬，到了顶上，摔倒在地，躺了一会儿，桅杆还是横在肩上。他想法爬起身来。可是太困难了，他就扛着桅杆坐在那儿，望着大路。一只猫从路对面走过，去干它自己的事，老人注视着它。然后他只顾望着大路。
临了，他放下桅杆，站起身来。他举起桅杆，扛在肩上，顺着大路走去。他不得不坐下歇了五次，才走到他的窝棚。
进了窝棚，他把桅杆靠在墙上。他摸黑找到一只水瓶，喝了一口水。然后他在床上躺下了。他拉起毯子，盖住两肩，然后裹住了背部和双腿，他脸朝下躺在报纸上，两臂伸得笔直，手掌向上。
早上，孩子朝门内张望，他正熟睡着。风刮得正猛，那些漂网渔船不会出海了，所以孩子睡了个懒觉，跟每天早上一样，起身后就到老人的窝棚来。孩子看见老人在喘气，跟着看见老人的那双手，就哭起来了。他悄没声儿地走出来，去拿点咖啡，一路上边走边哭。
许多渔夫围着那条小船，看着绑在船旁的东西，有一名渔夫卷起了裤腿站在水里，用一根钓索在量那死鱼的残骸。
孩子并不走下岸去。他刚才去过了，其中有个渔夫正在替他看管这条小船。
“他怎么啦？"一名渔夫大声叫道。
“在睡觉，"孩子喊着说。他不在乎人家看见他在哭。"谁都别去打扰他。”
“它从鼻子到尾巴有十八英尺长，"那量鱼的渔夫叫道。
“我相信，”孩子说。
他走进露台饭店，去要一罐咖啡。
“要烫，多加些牛奶和糖在里头。”
“还要什么？”
“不要了。过后我再看他想吃些什么。”
“多大的鱼呀，"饭店老板说。"从来没有过这样的鱼。你
昨天捉到的那两条也满不错。”
“我的鱼，见鬼去，"孩子说，又哭起来了。
“你想喝点什么吗？"老板问。
“不要，”孩子说。“叫他们别去打扰圣地亚哥。我就回来。”
“跟他说我多么难过。”
“谢谢，”孩子说。
孩子拿着那罐热咖啡直走到老人的窝棚，在他身边坐下，等他醒来。有一回眼看他快醒过来了。可是他又沉睡过去，孩子就跨过大路去借些木柴来热咖啡。
老人终于醒了。
“别坐起来，”孩子说。"把这个喝了。"他倒了些咖啡在一只玻璃杯里。
老人把它接过去喝了。
“它们把我打败了，马诺林，"他说。"它们确实把我打败了。”
“它没有打败你。那条鱼可没有。”
“对。真个的。是后来才吃败仗的。”
“佩德里科在看守小船和打鱼的家什。你打算把那鱼头怎么着？”
“让佩德里科把它切碎了，放在捕鱼机里使用。”
“那张长嘴呢？”
“你要你就拿去。”
“我要，”孩子说。"现在我们得来商量一下别的事情。”
“他们来找过我吗？”
“当然啦。派出了海岸警卫队和飞机。”
“海洋非常大，小船很小，不容易看见，”老人说。他感到多么愉快，可以对一个人说话，不再只是自言自语，对着海说话了。"我很想念你，"他说。"你们捉到了什么？”
“头一天一条。第二天一条，第三天两条。”
“好极了。”
“现在我们又可以一起钓鱼了。”
“不。我运气不好。我再不会交好运了。”
“去它的好运，”孩子说。"我会带来好运的。”
“你家里人会怎么说呢？”
“我不在乎。我昨天逮住了两条。不过我们现在要一起钓鱼，因为我还有好多东西需要学。”
“我们得弄一支能扎死鱼的好长矛，经常放在船上。你可以用一辆旧福特牌汽车上的钢板做矛头。我们可以拿到瓜纳巴科亚①去磨。应该把它磨得很锋利，不要回火锻造，免得它会断裂。我的刀子断了。”
“我去弄把刀子来，把钢板也磨磨快。这大风要刮多少天？”
“也许三天。也许还不止。”
“我要把什么都安排好，”孩子说。"你把你的手养好，老大爷。”
“我知道怎样保养它们的。夜里，我吐出了一些奇怪的东西，感到胸膛里有什么东西碎了。”
“把这个也养养好，”孩子说。"躺下吧，老大爷，我去给你拿干净衬衫来。还带点吃的来。”
“我不在这儿的时候的报纸，你也随便带一份来，"老人说。
①位于哈瓦那东约五英里处，为哈瓦那的郊区，有海滨浴场。
“你得赶快好起来，因为我还有好多东西要学，你可以把什么都教给我。你吃了多少苦？”
“可不少啊，”老人说。
“我去把吃的东西和报纸拿来，”孩子说。"好好休息吧，老大爷。我到药房去给你的手弄点药来。”
“别忘了跟佩德里科说那鱼头给他了。”
“不会。我记得。”
孩子出了门，顺着那磨损的珊瑚石路走去，他又在哭了。
那天下午，露台饭店来了一群旅游者，有个女人朝下面的海水望去，看见在一些空气酒听和死梭子鱼之间，有一条又粗又长的白色脊骨，一端有条巨大的尾巴，当东风在港外不断地掀起大浪的时候，这尾巴随着潮水瓶落、摇摆。
“那是什么？"她问一名侍者，指着那条大鱼的长长的脊骨，它如今仅仅是垃圾，只等潮水来把它带走了。
“Ｔｉｂｕｒｏｎ①，"侍者说，"Ｅｓｈａｒｋ②。"他打算解释这事情的经过。③
“我不知道鲨鱼有这样漂亮的尾巴，形状这样美观。”
“我也不知道，"她的男伴说。
在大路另一头老人的窝棚里，他又睡着了。他依旧脸朝下躺着，孩子坐在他身边，守着他。老人正梦见狮子。