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. Maybe he will come up before sunset, or with the moon. 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. I wish I could see him only once to know what I have against me.
The fish never changed his course. It was cold after the sun went down, he tied the sack that covered the bait box 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.
I can do nothing with him and he can do nothing with me, he thought. Once he stood up and urinated over the side of the skiff and looked at the stars and checked his course. They were moving more slowly now and the glow of Havana was not so strong, so he knew the current must be carrying them eastward.
I wonder how the baseball came out in the grand leagues today, he thought. It would be wonderful to do this with a radio. Think of what you are doing, you must do nothing stupid.
Then he said aloud, "I wish I had the boy. To help me and to see this.'
No one should be alone in their old age, he thought. But it is unavoidable. I must remember to eat the tuna before he spoils in order to keep strong. Remember, you must eat him in the morning, he said to himself.
During the night two porpoise came around the boat and he could hear them rolling and blowing.
"They are good," he said. "They play and make jokes and love one another.
They are our brothers like the flying fish."
Then he began to pity the great fish that he had hooked. He is wonderful and strange and who knows how old he is, he thought. Never have I had such a strong fish nor one who acted so strangely. Perhaps he is too wise to jump. He could ruin me by jumping. But what a great fish he is and what he will bring in the market if the flesh is good, he took the bait like a male and he pulls like a male and his fight has no panic in it. I wonder if he has any plans or if he is just as desperate as I am.
"I wish the boy were here," he said aloud and settled himself against the bow and felt the strength of the great fish through the line he held across his shoulders. My choice was to go out to find him beyond all people in the world. Now we are joined together and no one to help either one of us.
The fish made a surge that pulled him down on his face and made a cut below his eye. The blood ran down his cheek a little way. But it coagulated and dried before it reached his chin and he worked his way back to the bow and rested against the wood.
I wonder why he made that surge, he thought. The wire must have slipped on the great hill of his back. Certainly his back cannot feel as bad as mine does. But he cannot pull this skiff forever, no matter how great he is.
"Fish." he said softly, aloud. "I'll stay with you until I am dead."
When the sun had risen further the old man realized that the fish was not getting tired. There was only one favorable sign. The slam of the line showed he was swimming at a lesser depth. That did not mean that he would jump. But he might.
"God, let him jump," the old man said. "I have enough line to handle him." "Fish," he said, "I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you
dead before this day ends."
A small bird came toward the skiff from the north. He was a warbler and the old man could see he was very tired. He flew around the old man's head and rested on the line.
"How old are you?" the old man asked the bird. "Is this your first trip?" The bird was very tired and he teetered on the line as his delicate feet gripped it.
"Take a good rest, small bird," he said. "Then go and take your chance like any man or bird or fish."
Just then the fish gave a sudden lurch that pulled the old man down to the bow and would have pulled him overboard if he had not braced himself and given some line. The bird flew away and he felt the line carefully with his right hand and noticed his hand was bleeding. Shifting the weight of the line to his left shoulder and kneeling carefully, he washed his hand in the ocean. The cut was in the working part of his hand. He knew he would need his hands before this was over and he did not like to be cut before it started. "Now," he said, "I must eat the small tuna." he knelt down and found the tuna under the stem. He put one knee on the fish and cut strips of dark red meat from the back of the head to the tail.
"I don't think I can eat an entire one," he said. He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped.
"What kind of a hand is that," he said. "Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good."
He picked up a piece of tuna and put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly.
It was not unpleasant.
"How do you feel, hand?" he asked the cramped hand that was almost as stiff as rigor mortis, "I'll eat some more for you."
I wish I could feed the fish, he thought. He is my brother. But I must kill him and keep strong to do it. Slowly he ate all the strips of fish.
"God help me to have the cramp go," he said. "Because I do not know what the fish is going to do." What is his plan, he thought. And what is mine?
His left hand was still cramped, but he was unknotting it slowly.
I hate cramps, he thought. It is a treachery of one's own body. Then, with his right hand he felt the difference in the pull of the line.
"He's coming up." he said. "Come on, hand. Please come on."
The line rose slowly and steadily and then the surface of the ocean bulged ahead of the boat and the fish came out. He came out unendingly and water
poured from his sides. He was bright in the sun and his head and his sides were wide and colored a light lavender. His sword was as long as a baseball bat and tapered like a rapier and he rose his full length from the water and then re- entered it, smoothly, like a diver and the old man saw the great scythe-blade of his tail go under, and the line started to race out.
"He is two feet longer than the skiff," the old man said. He was trying with both hands to keep the line just inside of breaking strength. He knew that if he could not slow the fish with a steady pressure, the fish could take out all the line and break it.
He is a great fish but I must convince him that he is no match for me, he thought. I must never let him learn his strength nor what he could do if he made his run.
The old man had seen many great fish. He had seen many that weighed more than a thousand pounds and he had caught two of that size in his life, but never alone. Now alone, and out of sight of land, he was tied fast to the biggest fish that he had ever seen and bigger than he had ever heard of, and his left hand was still cramped.
I wonder why he jumped, the old man thought. He jumped almost as though to show me how big he was. I wish I could show him what sort of man I am. But then he would see the cramped hand.
At noon the old man's left hand was uncramped. He was comfortable but suffering, although he did not admit the suffering at all.
"I am not religious," he said. "But I will say ten Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys so that I can catch this fish, and I promise to make a pilgrimage to the Virgin de Cobre if I catch him. Christ, I did not know he was so big."
"I'll kill him though," he said. "In all his greatness."
Although it is unjust, he thought. But I will show him what a man can do and what a man endures.
"I told the boy I was a strange old man," he said. "Now is when I must prove it."
The thousand times that he had proved it meant nothing. Now he was proving it again.
"If you're not tired, fish." he said aloud, "you must be very strange."
He felt very tired now and he tried to think of other things. He thought of the Big Leagues, and he knew the Yankees of New York were playing the Tigers of Detroit.
This is the second day that I do not know the result of the juegos, he thought. But I must have confidence and I must be worthy of the great DiMaggio who does all things perfectly.
Do you believe the great DiMaggio would stay with a fish as long as I will stay with this one? he thought. I am sure he would and more since he is young and strong. Also his father was a fisherman.
他在钓上这鱼以前，把草帽拉下，紧扣在脑瓜上，这时勒得他的脑门好痛。他还觉得口渴，就双膝跪下，小心不让扯动钓索，尽量朝船头爬去，伸手去取水瓶。他打开瓶盖，喝了一点儿，然后靠在船头上休息。他坐在从桅座上拔下的绕着帆的桅杆上，竭力不去想什么，只顾熬下去。
等他回顾背后时，一看陆地已没有一丝踪影了。这没有关系，他想。我总能靠着哈瓦那的灯火回港的。太阳下去还有两个钟点，也许不到那时鱼就会浮上来。如果它不上来，也许会随着月出浮上来。如果它不这样干，也许会随着日出浮上来。我手脚没有抽筋，我感到身强力壮。是它的嘴给钓住了啊。不过拉力这样大，该是条多大的鱼啊。它的嘴准是死死地咬住了钢丝钓钩。但愿能看到它。但愿能知道我这对手是什么样儿的，哪怕只看一眼也好。
老人凭着观察天上的星斗，看出那鱼整整一夜始终没有改变它的路线和方向。太阳下去后，天气转凉了，老人的背脊、胳膊和衰老的腿上的汗水都干了，感到发冷。白天里，他曾把盖在鱼饵匣上的麻袋取下，摊在阳光里晒干。太阳下去了，他把麻袋系在脖子上，让它披在背上，他并且小心地把它塞在如今正挂在肩上的钓索下面。有麻袋垫着钓索，他就可以弯腰向船头靠去，这样简直可说很舒服了。这姿势实在只能说是多少叫人好受一点儿，可是他自以为简直可说很舒服了。
我拿它一点没办法，它也拿我一点没办法，他想。只要它老是这样干下去，双方都一点没办法。
他有一回站起身来，隔着船舷撒尿，然后抬眼望着星斗，核对他的航向。钓索从他肩上一直钻进水里，看来象一道磷光。鱼和船此刻行动放慢了。哈瓦那的灯火也不大辉煌，他于是明白，海流准是在把他们双方带向东方。如果我就此看不见哈瓦那炫目的灯光，我们一定是到了更东的地方，他想。因为，如果这鱼的路线没有变的话，我准会好几个钟点看得见灯光。不知今天的棒球大联赛结果如何，他想。干这行当有台收音机才美哪。接着他想，老是惦记着这玩意儿。想想你正在干的事情吧。你哪能干蠢事啊。
然后他说出声来："但愿孩子在就好了。可以帮我一手，让他见识见识这种光景。”
谁也不该上了年纪独个儿待着，他想。不过这也是避免不了的。为了保养体力，我一定要记住趁金枪鱼没坏时就吃。记住了，哪怕你只想吃一点点，也必须在早上吃。记住了，他对自己说。
夜间，两条海豚游到小船边来，他听见它们翻腾和喷水的声音。他能辩别出那雄的发出的喧闹的喷水声和那雌的发出的喘息般的喷水声。
“它们都是好样的，"他说。"它们嬉耍，打闹，相亲相爱。它们是我们的兄弟，就象飞鱼一样。”
跟着他怜悯起这条被他钓住的大鱼来了。它真出色，真奇特，而且有谁知道它年龄多大呢，他想。我从没钓到过这样强大的鱼，也没见过行动这样奇特的鱼。也许它太机灵，不愿跳出水来。它可以跳出水来，或者来个猛冲，把我搞垮。不过，也许它曾上钩过好多次，所以知道应该如何搏斗。它哪会知道它的对手只有一个人，而且是个老头儿。不过它是条多大的鱼啊，如果鱼肉良好的话，在市场上能卖多大一笔钱啊，它咬起饵来象条雄鱼，拉起钓索来也象雄鱼，搏斗起来一点也不惊慌。不知道它有没有什么打算，还是就跟我一样地不顾死活？
他想起有一回钓到了一对大马林鱼中的一条。雄鱼总是让雌的先吃，那条上了钩的正是雌鱼，它发了狂，惊慌失措而绝望地挣扎着，不久就筋疲力尽了，那条雄鱼始终待在它身边，在钓索下窜来窜去，陪着它在水面上一起打转。这雄鱼离钓索好近，老人生怕它会用它的尾巴把钓索割断，这尾巴象大镰刀般锋利，大小和形状都和大镰刀差不多。老人用鱼钩把雌鱼钩上来，用棍子揍它，握住了那边缘如沙纸似的轻剑般的长嘴，连连朝它头顶打去，直打得它的颜色变成和镜子背面的红色差不多，然后由孩子帮忙，把它拖上船去，这当儿，雄鱼一直待在船舷边。跟着，当老人忙着解下钓索、拿起鱼叉的时候，雄鱼在船边高高地跳到空中，看看雌鱼在哪里，然后掉下去，钻进深水里，它那淡紫色的翅膀，实在正是它的胸鳍，大大地张开来，于是它身上所有的淡紫色的宽条纹都露出来了。它是美丽的，老人想起，而它始终待在那儿不走。
它们这情景是我看到的最伤心的了，老人想。孩子也很伤心，因此我们请求这条雌鱼原谅，马上把它宰了。
“但愿孩子在这儿就好了，"他说出声来，把身子安靠在船头的边缘已被磨圆的木板上，通过勒在肩上的钓索，感到这条大鱼的力量，它正朝着它所选择的方向稳稳地游去。
由于我干下了欺骗它的勾当，它不得不作出选择了，老人想。
它选择的是待在黑暗的深水里，远远地避开一切圈套、罗网和诡计。我选择的是赶到谁也没到过的地方去找它。到世界上没人去过的地方。现在我跟它给拴在一起了，从中午起就是如此。而且我和它都没有谁来帮忙。
也许我不该当渔夫，他想。然而这正是我生来该干的行当。我一定要记住，天亮后就吃那条金枪鱼。
离天亮还有点时候，有什么东西咬住了他背后的一个鱼饵。他听见钓竿啪的折断了，于是那根钓索越过船舷朝外直溜。他摸黑拔出鞘中的刀子，用左肩承担着大鱼所有的拉力，身子朝后靠，就着木头的船舷，把那根钓索割断了。然后把另一根离他最近的钓索也割断了，摸黑把这两个没有放出去的钓索卷儿的断头系在一起。他用一只手熟练地干着，在牢牢地打结时，一只脚踩住了钓索卷儿，免得移动。他现在有六卷备用钓索了。他刚才割断的那两根有鱼饵的钓索各有两卷备用钓索，加上被大鱼咬住鱼饵的那根上的两卷，它们全都接在一起了。
等天亮了，他想，我要好歹回到那根把鱼饵放在水下四十英寻深处的钓索边，把它也割断了，连结在那些备用钓索卷儿上。我将丢掉两百英寻出色的卡塔卢尼亚①钓索，还有钓钩和导线。这些都是能再置备的。万一钓上了别的鱼，把这条大鱼倒搞丢了，那再往哪儿去找呢？我不知道刚才咬饵的是什么鱼。很可能是条大马林鱼，或者剑鱼，或者鲨鱼。我根本来不及琢磨。我不得不赶快把它摆脱掉。
他说出声来："但愿那孩子在这里。”
可是孩子并不在这里，他想。你只有你自己一个人，你还是好歹回到最末的那根钓索边，不管天黑不黑，把它割断了，系上那两卷备用钓索。
他就这样做了。摸黑干很困难，有一回，那条大鱼掀动了一下，把他拖倒在地，脸朝下，眼睛下划破了一道口子。鲜血从他脸颊上淌下来。但还没流到下巴上就凝固了，干掉了，于是他挪动身子回到船头，靠在木船舷上歇息。他拉好麻袋，把钓索小心地挪到肩上另一个地方，用肩膀把它固定住，握住了小心地试试那鱼拉曳的份量，然后伸手到水里测度小船航行的速度。
不知道这鱼为什么刚才突然摇晃了一下，他想。敢情是钓索在它高高隆起的背脊上滑动了一下。它的背脊当然痛得及不上我的。然而不管它力气多大，总不能永远拖着这条小船跑吧。眼下凡是会惹出乱子来的东西都除掉了，我却还有好多备用的钓索，一个人还能有什么要求呢。
①西班牙古地区名，包括今东北部四省。
"鱼啊，"他轻轻地说出声来，"我跟你奉陪到死。"依我看，它也要跟我奉陪到死的，老人想，他等待着天明。眼下正当破晓前的时分，天气很冷，他把身子紧贴着木船舷来取暖。它能熬多久，我也能熬多久，他想。天色微明中，钓索伸展着，朝下通到水中。小船平稳地移动着，初升的太阳一露边儿，阳光直射在老人的右肩上。
“它在朝北走啊，”老人说。海流会把我们远远地向东方送去，他想。但愿它会随着海流拐弯。这样可以说明它越来越疲乏了。
等太阳升得更高了，老人发觉这鱼并不越来越疲乏。只有一个有利的征兆。钓索的斜度说明它正在较浅的地方游着。这不一定表示它会跃出水来。但它也许会这样。
“天主啊，叫它跳跃吧，”老人说。“我的钓索够长，可以对付它。”
也许我把钓索稍微拉紧一点儿，让它觉得痛，它就会跳跃了，他想。既然是白天了，就让它跳跃吧，这样它会把沿着背脊的那些液囊装满了空气，它就没法沉到海底去死了。
他动手拉紧钓索，可是自从他钓上这条鱼以来，钓索已经绷紧到快要迸断的地步，他向后仰着身子来拉，感到它硬邦邦的，就知道没法拉得更紧了。我千万不能猛地一拉，他想。每猛拉一次，会把钓钩划出的口子弄得更宽些，等它当真跳跃起来，它也许会把钓钩甩掉。反正太阳出了，我觉得好过些，这一回我不用盯着太阳看了。
钓索上粘着黄色的海藻，可是老人知道这只会给鱼增加一些拉力，所以很高兴。正是这种黄色的果囊马尾藻在夜间发出很强的磷光。
“鱼啊，"他说，"我爱你，非常尊敬你。不过今天无论如何要把你杀死。”
但愿如此，他想。一只小鸟从北方朝小船飞来。那是只鸣禽，在水面上飞得很低。老人看出它非常疲乏了。
鸟儿飞到船梢上，在那儿歇一口气。然后它绕着老人的头飞了一圈，落在那根钓索上，在那儿它觉得比较舒服。"你多大了？"老人问鸟儿。"你这是第一次出门吗？”
他说话的时候，鸟儿望着他。它太疲乏了，竟没有细看这钓索，就用小巧的双脚紧抓住了钓索，在上面摇啊晃的。"这钓索很稳当，"老人对它说。"太稳当啦。夜里风息全无，你怎么会这样疲乏啊。鸟儿都怎么啦？”
因为有老鹰，他想，飞到海上来追捕它们。但是这话他没跟这鸟儿说，反正它也不懂他的话，而且很快就会知道老鹰的厉害。
“好好儿歇歇吧，小鸟，"他说。"然后投身进去，碰碰运气，象任何人或者鸟或者鱼那样。”
他靠说话来鼓劲，因为他的背脊在夜里变得僵直，眼下真痛得厉害。
“鸟儿，乐意的话就住在我家吧，"他说。"很抱歉，我不能趁眼下刮起小风的当儿，扯起帆来把你带回去。可是我总算有个朋友在一起了。”
就在这当儿，那鱼陡地一歪，把老人拖倒在船头上，要不是他撑住了身子，放出一段钓索，早把他拖到海里去了。钓索猛地一抽时，鸟儿飞走了，老人竟没有看到它飞走。
他用右手小心地摸摸钓索，发现手上正在淌血。
“这么说这鱼给什么东西弄伤了，"他说出声来，把钓索往回拉，看能不能叫鱼转回来。但是拉到快绷断的当儿，他就握稳了钓索，身子朝后倒，来抵消钓索上的那股拉力。
“你现在觉得痛了吧，鱼，"他说。"老实说，我也是如此啊。”
他掉头寻找那只小鸟，因为很乐意有它来作伴。鸟儿飞走了。
你没有待多久，老人想。但是你去的地方风浪较大，要飞到了岸上才平安。我怎么会让那鱼猛地一拉，划破了手？我一定是越来越笨了。要不，也许是因为只顾望着那只小鸟，想着它的事儿。现在我要关心自己的活儿，过后得把那金枪鱼吃下去，这样才不致没力气。
“但愿那孩子在这儿，并且我手边有点儿盐就好了，"他说出声来。
他把沉甸甸的钓索挪到左肩上，小心地跪下，在海水里洗手，把手在水里浸了一分多钟，注视着血液在水中漂开去，海水随着船的移动在他手上平稳地拍打着。
“它游得慢多了，"他说。
老人巴不得让他的手在这盐水中多浸一会儿，但害怕那鱼又陡地一歪，于是站起身，打叠起精神，举起那只手，朝着太阳。左不过被钓索勒了一下，割破了肉。然而正是手上最得用的地方。他知道需要这双手来干成这桩事，不喜欢还没动手就让手给割破。
“现在，"等手晒干了，他说，"我该吃小金枪鱼了。我可以用鱼钩把它钓过来，在这儿舒舒服服地吃。”
他跪下来，用鱼钩在船梢下找到了那条金枪鱼，小心不让它碰着那几卷钓索，把它钩到自己身边来。他又用左肩挎住了钓索，把左手和胳臂撑在座板上，从鱼钩上取下金枪鱼，再把鱼钩放回原处。他把一膝压在鱼身上，从它的脖颈竖割到尾部，割下一条条深红色的鱼肉。这些肉条的断面是楔形的，他从脊骨边开始割，直割到肚子边，他割下了六条，把它们摊在船头的木板上，在裤子上擦擦刀子，拎起鱼尾巴，把骨头扔在海里。
“我想我是吃不下一整条的，"他说，用刀子把一条鱼肉一切为二。他感到那钓索一直紧拉着，他的左手抽起筋来。这左手紧紧握住了粗钓索，他厌恶地朝它看着。
“这算什么手啊，"他说。"随你去抽筋吧。变成一只鸟爪吧。对你可不会有好处。”
快点，他想，望着斜向黑暗的深水里的钓索。快把它吃了，会使手有力气的。不能怪这只手不好，你跟这鱼已经打了好几个钟点的交道啦。不过你是能跟它周旋到底的。马上把金枪鱼吃了。
他拿起半条鱼肉，放在嘴里，慢慢地咀嚼。倒并不难吃。好好儿咀嚼，他想，把汁水都咽下去。如果加上一点儿酸橙或者柠檬或者盐，味道可不会坏。
“手啊，你感觉怎么样？"他问那只抽筋的手，它僵直得几乎跟死尸一般。"我为了你再吃一点儿。”他吃着他切成两段的那条鱼肉的另外一半。他细细地咀嚼，然后把鱼皮吐出来。
“觉得怎么样，手？或者现在还答不上来？”他拿起一整条鱼肉，咀嚼起来。
“这是条壮实而血气旺盛的鱼。"他想。"我运气好，捉到了它，而不是条鲯鳅。鲯鳅太甜了。这鱼简直一点也不甜，元气还都保存着。”
然而最有道理的还是讲究实用，他想。但愿我有点儿盐。我还不知道太阳会不会把剩下的鱼肉给晒坏或者晒干，所以最好把它们都吃了，尽管我并不饿。那鱼现在又平静又安稳。我把这些鱼肉统统吃了，就有充足的准备啦。
“耐心点吧，手，"他说。"我这样吃东西是为了你啊。”我巴望也能喂那条大鱼，他想。它是我的兄弟。可是我不得不把它弄死，我得保持精力来这样做。他认真地慢慢儿把那些楔形的鱼肉条全都吃了。
他直起腰来，把手在裤子上擦了擦。
“行了，"他说。"你可以放掉钓索了，手啊，我要单单用右臂来对付它，直到你不再胡闹。"他把左脚踩住刚才用左手攥着的粗钓索，身子朝后倒，用背部来承受那股拉力。"天主帮助我，让这抽筋快好吧，"他说。"因为我不知道这条鱼还要怎么着。”
不过它似乎很镇静，他想，而且在按着它的计划行动。可是它的计划是什么，他想。我的又是什么？我必须随机应变，拿我的计划来对付它的，因为它个儿这么大。如果它跳出水来，我能弄死它。但是它始终待在下面不上来。那我也就跟它奉陪到底。
他把那只抽筋的手在裤子上擦擦，想使手指松动松动。可是手张不开来。也许随着太阳出来它能张开，他想。也许等那些养人的生金枪鱼肉消化后，它能张开。如果我非靠这只手不可，我要不惜任何代价把它张开。但是我眼下不愿硬把它张开。让它自行张开，自动恢复过来吧。我毕竟在昨夜把它使用得过度了，那时候不得不把各条钓索解开，系在一起。
他眺望着海面，发觉他此刻是多么孤单。但是他可以看见漆黑的海水深处的彩虹七色、
面前伸展着的钓索和那平静的海面上的微妙的波动。由于贸易风的吹刮，这时云块正在积聚起来，他朝前望去，见到一群野鸭在水面上飞，在天空的衬托下，身影刻划得很清楚，然后模糊起来，然后又清楚地刻划出来，于是他发觉，一个人在海上是永远不会感到孤单的。
他想到有些人乘小船驶到了望不见陆地的地方，会觉得害怕，他明白在天气会突然变坏的那几月里，他们是有理由害怕的。可是如今正当刮飓风的月份，而在不刮的时候，这些月份正是一年中天气最佳的时候。
如果将刮飓风，而你正在海上的话，你总能在好几天前就看见天上有种种迹象。人们在岸上可看不见，因为他们不知道该找什么，他想。陆地上一定也看得见异常的现象，那就是云的式样不同。但是眼前不会刮飓风。
他望望天空，看见一团团白色的积云，形状象一堆堆可人心意的冰淇淋，而在高高的上空，高爽的九月的天空衬托着一团团羽毛般的卷云。
“轻风，"他说。"这天气对我比对你更有利，鱼啊。”他的左手依然在抽筋，但他正在慢慢地把它张开。
我恨抽筋，他想。这是对自己身体的背叛行为。由于食物中毒而腹泻或者呕吐，是在别人面前丢脸。但是抽筋，在西班牙语中叫ｃａｌａｍｂｒｅ，是丢自己的脸，尤其是一个人独自待着的时候。
要是那孩子在这儿，他可以给我揉揉胳臂，从前臂一直往下揉，他想。不过这手总会松开的。
随后，他用右手去摸钓索，感到上面的份量变了，这才看见在水里的斜度也变了。跟着，他俯身朝着钓索，把左手啪地紧按在大腿上，看见倾斜的钓索在慢慢地向上升起。"它上来啦，"他说。"手啊，快点。请快一点。”
钓索慢慢儿稳稳上升，接着小船前面的海面鼓起来了，鱼出水了。它不停地往上冒，水从它身上向两边直泻。它在阳光里亮光光的，脑袋和背部呈深紫色，两侧的条纹在阳光里显得宽阔，带着淡紫色。它的长嘴象棒球棒那样长，逐渐变细，象一把轻剑，它把全身从头到尾都露出水面，然后象潜水员般滑溜地又钻进水去，老人看见它那大镰刀般的尾巴没入水里，钓索开始往外飞速溜去。
“它比这小船还长两英尺，”老人说。钓索朝水中溜得既快又稳，说明这鱼并没有受惊。老人设法用双手拉住钓索，用的力气刚好不致被鱼扯断。他明白，要是他没法用稳定的劲儿使鱼慢下来，它就会把钓索全部拖走，并且绷断。
它是条大鱼，我一定要制服它，他想。我一定不能让它明白它有多大的力气，明白如果飞逃的话，它能干出什么来。我要是它，我眼下就要使出浑身的力气，一直飞逃到什么东西绷断为止。但是感谢上帝它们没有我们这些要杀害它们的人聪明，尽管它们比我们高尚，更有能耐。
老人见过许多大鱼。他见过许多超过一千磅的，前半辈子也曾逮住过两条这么大的，不过从未独自一个人逮住过。现在正是独自一个人，看不见陆地的影子，却在跟一条比他曾见过、曾听说过的更大的鱼紧拴在一起，而他的左手依旧拳曲着，象紧抓着的鹰爪。
可是它就会复原的，他想。它当然会复原，来帮助我的右手。有三样东西是兄弟：那条鱼和我的两只手。这手一定会复原的。真可耻，它竟会抽筋。鱼又慢下来了，正用它惯常的速度游着。
弄不懂它为什么跳出水来，老人想。简直象是为了让我看看它个儿有多大才跳的。反正我现在是知道了，他想。但愿我也能让它看看我是个什么样的人。不过这一来它会看到这只抽筋的手了。让它以为我是个比现在的我更富有男子汉气概的人，我就能做到这一点。但愿我就是这条鱼，他想，使出它所有的力量，而要对付的仅仅是我的意志和我的智慧。
他舒舒服服地靠在木船舷上，忍受着袭来的痛楚感，那鱼稳定地游着，小船穿过深色的海水缓缓前进。随着东方吹来的风，海上起了小浪，到中午时分，老人那抽筋的左手复原了。
“这对你是坏消息，鱼啊，"他说，把钓索从披在他肩上的麻袋上挪了一下位置。
他感到舒服，但也很痛苦，然而他根本不承认是痛苦。
“我并不虔诚，"他说。"但是我愿意念十遍《天主经》和十遍《圣母经》，使我能逮住这条鱼，我还许下心愿，如果逮住了它，一定去朝拜科布莱的圣母。这是我许下的心愿。”他机械地念起祈祷文来。有些时候他太倦了，竟背不出祈祷文，他就念得特别快，使字句能顺口念出来。《圣母经》要比《天主经》容易念，他想。
“万福玛利亚，满被圣宠者，主与尔偕焉。女中尔为赞美，尔胎子耶稣，并为赞美。天主圣母玛利亚，为我等罪人，今祈天主，及我等死候。阿们。"然后他加上了两句："万福童贞圣母，请您祈祷叫这鱼死去。虽然它是那么了不起。”
念完了祈祷文，他觉得舒坦多了，但依旧象刚才一样地痛，也许更厉害一点儿，于是他背靠在船头的木舷上，机械地活动起左手的手指。
此刻阳光很热了，尽管微风正在柔和地吹起。
“我还是把挑出在船梢的细钓丝重新装上钓饵的好，"他说。“如果那鱼打算在这里再过上一夜，我就需要再吃点东西，再说，水瓶里的水也不多了。我看这儿除了鲯鳅，也逮不到什么别的东西。但是，如果趁它新鲜的时候吃，味道不会差。我希望今夜有条飞鱼跳到船上来。可惜我没有灯光来引诱它。飞鱼生吃味道是呱呱叫的，而且不用把它切成小块。我眼下必须保存所有的精力。天啊，我当初不知道这鱼竟这么大。”"可是我要把它宰了，"他说。"不管它多么了不起，多么神气。”
然而这是不公平的，他想。不过我要让它知道人有多少能耐，人能忍受多少磨难。
“我跟那孩子说过来着，我是个不同寻常的老头儿，"他说。"现在是证实这话的时候了。”
他已经证实过上千回了，这算不上什么。眼下他正要再证实一回。每一回都是重新开始，他这样做的时候，从来不去想过去。
但愿它睡去，这样我也能睡去，梦见狮子，他想。为什么如今梦中主要只剩下了狮子？别想了，老头儿，他对自己说。眼下且轻轻地靠着木船舷歇息，什么都不要想。它正忙碌着。你越少忙碌越好。
时间已是下午，船依旧缓慢而稳定地移动着。不过这时东风给船增加了一份阻力，老人随着不大的海浪缓缓漂流，钓索勒在他背上的感觉变得舒适而温和些了。
下午有一回，钓索又升上来了。可是那鱼不过是在稍微高一点的平面上继续游着。太阳晒在老人的左胳臂和左肩和背脊上。所以他知道这鱼转向东北方了。
既然这鱼他看见过一回，他就能想象它在水里游的样子，它那翅膀般的胸鳍大张着，直竖的大尾巴划破黝黑的海水。不知道它在那样深的海里能看见多少东西，老人想。它的眼睛真大，马的眼睛要小得多，但在黑暗里看得见东西。从前我在黑暗里能看得很清楚。可不是在乌漆麻黑的地方。不过简直能象猫一样看东西。
阳光和他手指不断的活动，使他那抽筋的左手这时完全复原了，他就着手让它多负担一点拉力，并且耸耸背上的肌肉，使钓索挪开一点儿，把痛处换个地方。
“你要是没累乏的话，鱼啊，"他说出声来，"那你真是不可思议啦。”
他这时感到非常疲乏，他知道夜色就要降临，所以竭力想些别的事儿。他想到棒球的两大联赛，就是他用西班牙语所说的ＧｒａｎＬｉｇａｓ，他知道纽约市的扬基队正在迎战底特律的老虎队。
这是联赛的第二天，可我不知道比赛的结果如何。但是我一定要有信心，一定要对得起那了不起的迪马吉奥，他即使脚后跟长了骨刺，在疼痛，也能把一切做得十全十美。骨①刺是什么玩意儿？他问自己。西班牙语叫做ｕｎｅｓｐｕｅｌａ－ｄｅｈｕｅｓｏ。我们没有这玩意儿。它痛起来跟斗鸡脚上装的距铁刺扎进人的脚后跟时一样厉害吗？我想我是忍受不了这种痛苦的，也不能象斗鸡那样，一只眼睛或两只被啄瞎后仍旧战斗下去。人跟伟大的鸟兽相比，真算不上什么。我还是情愿做那只待在黑暗的深水里的动物。
“除非有鲨鱼来，"他说出声来。"如果有鲨鱼来，愿天主怜悯它和我吧。”
你以为那了不起的迪马吉奥能守着一条鱼，象我守着这一条一样长久吗？他想。我相信他能，而且更长久，因为他年轻力壮。加上他父亲当过渔夫。不过骨刺会不会使他痛得太厉害？