爱尚小说网

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第5章 The Old Man and the Big Fish（第1页）

Hischoicehadbeentostayinthedeepdarkwaterfaroutbeyondallsnaresandtrapsandtreacheries.Mychoicewastogotheretofindhimbeyondallpeople.Beyondallpeopleintheworld.Nowwearejoinedtogetherandhavebeensincenoon.Andnoonetohelpeitheroneofus.

PerhapsIshouldnothavebeenafisherman，hethought.ButthatwasthethingthatIwasbornfor.Imustsurelyremembertoeatthetunaafteritgetslight.

Sometimebeforedaylightsomethingtookoneofthebaitsthatwerebehindhim.Heheardthestickbreakandthelinebegintorushoutoverthegunwaleoftheskiff.Inthedarknessheloosenedhissheathknifeandtakingallthestrainofthefishonhisleftshoulderheleanedbackandcutthelineagainstthewoodofthegunwale.Thenhecuttheotherlineclosesttohimandinthedarkmadethelooseendsofthereservecoilsfast.Heworkedskillfullywiththeonehandandputhisfootonthecoilstoholdthemashedrewhisknotstight.Nowhehadsixreservecoilsofline.Thereweretwofromeachbaithehadseveredandthetwofromthebaitthefishhadtakenandtheywereallconnected.

Afteritislight，hethought，Iwillworkbacktotheforty-fathombaitandcutitawaytooandlinkupthereservecoils.IwillhavelosttwohundredfathomsofgoodCatalancordelandthehooksandleaders.Thatcanbereplaced.ButwhoreplacesthisfishifIhooksomefishanditcutshimoff?Idontknowwhatthatfishwasthattookthebaitjustnow.Itcouldhavebeenamarlinorabroadbillorashark.Ineverfelthim.Ihadtogetridofhimtoofast.

Aloudhesaid“，IwishIhadtheboy.”

Butyouhaventgottheboy，hethought.Youhaveonlyyourselfandyouhadbetterworkbacktothelastlinenow，inthedarkornotinthedark，andcutitawayandhookupthetworeservecoils.

Sohedidit.Itwasdifficultinthedarkandoncethefishmadeasurgethatpulledhimdownonhisfaceandmadeacutbelowhiseye.Thebloodrandownhischeekalittleway.Butitcoagulatedanddriedbeforeitreachedhischinandheworkedhiswaybacktothebowandrestedagainstthewood.Headjustedthesackandcarefullyworkedthelinesothatitcameacrossanewpartofhisshouldersand，holdingitanchoredwithhisshoulders，hecarefullyfeltthepullofthefishandthenfeltwithhishandtheprogressoftheskiffthroughthewater.

Iwonderwhathemadethatlurchfor，hethought.Thewiremusthaveslippedonthehillofhisback.Certainlyhisbackcannotfeelasbadlyasminedoes.Buthecannotpullthisskiffforever，nomatterhowgreatheis.NoweverythingisclearedawaythatmightmaketroubleandIhaveabigreserveofline;allthatamancanask.

“Fish，”

hesaidsoftly，aloud，“IllstaywithyouuntilIamdead.”

Hellstaywithmetoo，Isuppose，theoldmanthoughtandhewaitedforittobelight.Itwascoldnowinthetimebeforedaylightandhepushedagainstthewoodtobewarm.Icandoitaslongashecan，hethought.Andinthefirstlightthelineextendedoutanddownintothewater.Theboatmovedsteadilyandwhenthefirstedgeofthesunroseitwasontheoldmansrightshoulder.

“Hesheadednorth，”

theoldmansaid.Thecurrentwillhavesetusfartotheeastward，hethought.Iwishhewouldturnwiththecurrent.Thatwouldshowthathewastiring.

Whenthesunhadrisenfurthertheoldmanrealizedthatthefishwasnottiring.Therewasonlyonefavorablesign.Theslantofthelineshowedhewasswimmingatalesserdepth.Thatdidnotnecessarilymeanthathewouldjump.Buthemight.“Godlethimjump，”

theoldmansaid.“Ihaveenoughlinetohandlehim.”

MaybeifIcanincreasethetensionjustalittleitwillhurthimandhewilljump，hethought.Nowthatitisdaylightlethimjumpsothathellfillthesacksalonghisbackbonewithairandthenhecannotgodeeptodie.

Hetriedtoincreasethetension，butthelinehadbeentautuptotheveryedgeofthebreakingpointsincehehadhookedthefishandhefelttheharshnessasheleanedbacktopullandknewhecouldputnomorestrainonit.Imustnotjerkitever，hethought.Eachjerkwidensthecutthehookmakesandthenwhenhedoesjumphemightthrowit.AnywayIfeelbetterwiththesunandforonceIdonothavetolookintoit.

Therewasyellowweedonthelinebuttheoldmanknewthatonlymadeanaddeddragandhewaspleased.ItwastheyellowGulfweedthathadmadesomuchphosphorescenceinthenight.

“Fish，”

hesaid，“Iloveyouandrespectyouverymuch.ButIwillkillyoudeadbeforethisdayends.”

Letushopeso，hethought.

Asmallbirdcametowardtheskifffromthenorth.Hewasawarblerandflyingverylowoverthewater.Theoldmancouldseethathewasverytired.

Thebirdmadethesternoftheboatandrestedthere.Thenheflewaroundtheoldmansheadandrestedonthelinewherehewasmorecomfortable.

“Howoldareyou?”

theoldmanaskedthebird.“Isthisyourfirsttrip?”

Thebirdlookedathimwhenhespoke.Hewastootiredeventoexaminethelineandheteeteredonitashisdelicatefeetgrippeditfast.

“Itssteady，”

theoldmantoldhim.“Itstoosteady.Youshouldntbethattiredafterawindlessnight.Whatarebirdscomingto?”

Thehawks，hethought，thatcomeouttoseatomeetthem.Buthesaidnothingofthistothebirdwhocouldnotunderstandhimanywayandwhowouldlearnaboutthehawkssoonenough.

“Takeagoodrest，smallbird，”

hesaid.“Thengoinandtakeyourchancelikeanymanorbirdorfish.”

Itencouragedhimtotalkbecausehisbackhadstiffenedinthenightandithurttrulynow.

“Stayatmyhouseifyoulike，bird，”

hesaid.“IamsorryIcannothoistthesailandtakeyouinwiththesmallbreezethatisrising.ButIamwithafriend.”

Justthenthefishgaveasuddenlurchthatpulledtheoldmandownontothebowandwouldhavepulledhimoverboardifhehadnotbracedhimselfandgivensomeline.

Thebirdhadflownupwhenthelinejerkedandtheoldmanhadnotevenseenhimgo.Hefeltthelinecarefullywithhisrighthandandnoticedhishandwasbleeding.

“Somethinghurthimthen，”

hesaidaloudandpulledbackonthelinetoseeifhecouldturnthefish.Butwhenhewastouchingthebreakingpointheheldsteadyandsettledbackagainstthestrainoftheline.