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2024-02-10 21:24:59 来源:国外网站推荐 - 由[国外网站大全]整理

Just then the fish gave a sudden lurch that pulled the old man down onto the bow and would have pulled him overboard if he had not braced himself and given some line.


The bird had flown up when the line jerked and the old man had not even seen him go.


He felt the line carefully with his right hand and noticed his hand was bleeding.



"Something hurt him then," he said aloud and pulled back on the line to see if he could turn the fish.


But when he was touching the breaking point he held steady and settled back against the strain of the line.


"You're feeling it now, fish," he said. "And so, God knows, am I."


He looked around for the bird now because he would have liked him for company. The bird was gone.


You did not stay long, the man thought.


But it is rougher where you are going until you make the shore.


How did I let the fish cut me with that one quick pull he made?


I must be getting very stupid.


Or perhaps I was looking at the small bird and thinking of him.


Now I will pay attention to my work and then I must eat the tuna so that I will not have a failure of strength.


"I wish the boy were here and that I had some salt," he said aloud.


Shifting the weight of the line to his left shoulder and kneeling carefully he washed his hand in the ocean and held it there, submerged, for more than a minute watching the blood trail away and the steady movement of the water against his hand as the boat moved.


"He has slowed much," he said.


The old man would have liked to keep his hand in the salt water longer but he was afraid of another sudden lurch by the fish and he stood up and braced himself and held his hand up against the sun.


It was only a line burn that had cut his flesh.


But it 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, when his hand had dried, "I must eat the small tuna. I can reach him with the gaff and eat him here in comfort."


He knelt down and found the tuna under the stem with the gaff and drew it toward him keeping it clear of the coiled lines.


Holding the line with his left shoulder again, and bracing on his left hand and arm, he took the tuna off the gaff hook and put the gaff back in place.


He put one knee on the fish and cut strips of dark red meat longitudinally from the back of the head to the tail.


They were wedge-shaped strips and he cut them from next to the back bone down to the edge of the belly.


When he had cut six strips he spread them out on the wood of the bow, wiped his knife on his trousers, and lifted the carcass of the bonito by the tail and dropped it overboard.


"I don't think I can eat an entire one," he said and drew his knife across one of the strips.


He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped.


It drew up tight on the heavy cord and he looked at it in disgust.


"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."



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