The Old Man and the Sea, by Hemingway
The Old Man and the Sea,
by Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)
It is my view that Mr. Hemingway’s pessimism was misdirected.
Introduction:
The old man had a run of bad luck. His helper, the boy, was made by his parents to fish with other, luckier fishermen. After three days alone and far at sea, the old man finally lands an enormous marlin and ties it to the skiff.
In the end, sharks attack the fish, and by the time the old man reaches port the marlin is only a skeleton.
A Better Ending
They sailed well and the old man soaked his hands in the salt water and tried to keep his head clear. There were high cumulus clouds and enough cirrus above them so that the old man knew the breeze would last all night.
It took eighty-four days for my luck to change, he thought. Alone, and out of sight of land, I caught the biggest fish I have ever seen. This breeze is part of the luck. I will need it to get home. The skiff is very slow with the fish lashed alongside. Soon it will be dark and I will see the lights of Havana. It will be noon tomorrow before I reach the harbour.
The old man prayed, for he had promised to say ten Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys if he caught the fish. He added a prayer of thanks to the Blessed Virgin for changing his luck. Now the boy would fish with him again and he would not be so alone, he thought. With the boy it would have been easier. He would have held the line when the old man slept. He would have helped bring the fish in.
"The boy was five when we first went out," said the old man out loud to himself. " I will always remember. He was eager to learn, and willing. I showed him how to steer the skiff, to step the mast and to rig the boom. We had sardines for bait, and he quickly learned how to bait the hooks and put lines over the side at the right depth. Over the first weeks we talked about baseball, and I told him stories. About the lions on the beach in Africa, and the hand game in Casablanca where they called me ‘The Champion’ because I had beaten the Negro, and the time I had fallen while changing sails on the square-rigged ship." It was my first day up the mast, he thought. The wind changed, and the sail pushed me. If I had fallen on the deck, that would have been the end. I would never have owned a boat, or taught the boy. But I was lucky, then. I fell into the sea and they turned and pulled me out. Sometimes sharks would follow the ship waiting for waste to be thrown away. There were no sharks that day. Another piece of luck.
He hoped no sharks would come today. They would rip the flesh from his fish. By the time he reached home he would have only the head and the tail and the backbone in between. "If the sharks come I will try to defend you", he told the fish, "but I’m afraid I would lose. The sharks are hard to fight."
The wind stayed steady. The skiff was not easy to steer with the fish at its side. The old man had to hold the tiller to the right to keep the skiff on course. He was headed south-west, and his straw hat kept the sun out of his eyes. The old man dozed. His hands and back still hurt, but he was feeling better. Finally he slept. He still held the tiller under his arm. Long ago he had found how to keep on course when he was not awake.
He first dreamed about life on the square rigged ships. They sailed to England and France and Africa, carrying cotton, peanuts, ivory, sugar, coconut oil, and other things the old man did not remember. He took his turn on watch. He worked the sails and sometimes was helmsman, but he did not load or unload the cargo. One time they were chased by pirates off the Canary Islands, but they were lucky and found a naval ship before the pirates caught them.
It was near Benguela that he saw the lions. The crew could go ashore because they were loading and unloading for several days. The old man asked about lions, and a local fisherman took him along the coast. It was early morning. They sailed past a beach, and the fisherman pointed. There were twenty lions there, and the fisherman anchored his boat. They watched for an hour. The small lions played like kittens. They jumped and hit each other with their paws. They rolled in the sand. Their mothers lay in the shade and paid no attention. There was one male lion who watched the boat.
Then the old man’s dream changed, and he was twenty. He was drinking beer at the Terrace, and a girl came in the door. No one had seen her before. All the men noticed that she was very pretty, but he was the only one who moved.
She went to the counter, and Martin came and she asked him for some stew. The old man stood next to her. "I am Santiago," he said. She smiled and said her name was Estabonita and she was going to visit her brother down the coast. He told her she had the right name for a pretty girl, and she blushed. He paid for her stew when Martin brought it, and after she ate they walked along the shore. She told him she had a sister and four brothers, and that her father owned a store. He had not wanted her to go alone to visit her brother, but she was a stubborn girl, and won him over.
He told her about his years on the sailing ship, and about the lions. "Now I am a fisherman," he said. "I will save money and buy a boat for myself." He did not tell her that he would not eat that day after paying for her stew.
He awoke from his dream. The skiff was still sailing south-west. I have not dreamed about Estabonita for many years, he thought. Not since I took her picture from the wall and put it on the shelf under my shirts. She was the best wife a man could have, but she was sad that we never had children.
"She never knew the boy," he said aloud. "She was gone before he was born." The old man never thought of her as dying. She was there, and then she was gone. The months when she began to hurt, when she lost weight, when she could no longer get out of bed, he made himself forget. Toward the end he was drunk much of the time. When she was gone he stayed drunk for weeks.
The old man shook his head to chase away the memory. This fish will make me rich, he thought. It will sell for $300 and I will buy a new sail and a new shirt. The boy and I will go to Havana and see a baseball game. We will buy a lottery ticket. I will repay Martin for the meals he gave while my luck was bad. Now that my luck is good, the boy’s father will let him fish with me again. It was very difficult to fish alone. The boy is good company. We don’t talk much. Only when there is trouble with the wind or the skiff or a fish.
He cut strips of meat from the fish and ate them. He was not really hungry, but he knew the meat would help him heal. The pain in his back and shoulders and hand would slowly go away. He was very thirsty, but there was only one drink left in the bottle, and he had many hours to go before he would reach the harbour.
In a while the sun went down. The old man looked for lights on shore, but could see only the stars. "I will soon see Havana," he told himself, "but even then it will be a long sail before we are home."
His thoughts again went back to the past. Estabonita had gone on to see her brother. She was back two days later and was waiting when he came in from fishing. They ate together and talked. He showed her his shack. He was ashamed, for his clothes were scattered around the room and there was no furniture. His bed was a pile of weeds and grass on the dirt floor, but she said it could be made better with a little work. She left for home while it was still light. They agreed he would visit her and meet her father the next week. Nothing was said, but already they knew they would be husband and wife.
He had had women before, of course. In Havana, and in Casablanca and Dakar when he was before the mast. He did not remember them. He only remembered the lions, on the beach. There were both lions and women in Africa. Why do I remember the animals, he thought, and not the women? He supposed it was because the lions were like nothing he had ever seen before. He had known there were lions in Africa, but he had heard only that they were fierce and dangerous. No one had told him that they played, like children.
The boy Manolin had never played like the lions. His parents were strict, and he worked as soon as he could walk
The old man heard flying fish soaring in the darkness above the water. One flew into the skiff and it thumped in the bottom of the boat. He reached down and found it and threw it back into the ocean. "Fly away, fish, and don’t come back," he said. "I don’t need you now. I don’t need bait. I have caught all the fish I am going to catch today. Tell your brothers how big my fish is." He thought the flying fish and the dolphin must have seen even larger fish as they roamed the sea. "Don’t tell the sharks we are here," he added.
The old man still could not see the glow of Havana. The Dodgers once had their spring training in Havana, he thought. It was the first year Jackie Robinson played. Why did it take so long for Negroes to be in the Major Leagues? They have played in the Cuban Leagues since I was a boy. Robinson was good, though not as good as the great DiMaggio. They met in the World Series that year. Robinson stole two bases, but DiMaggio hit two home runs, and the Yankees won.
The trade wind held and the skiff sailed on. He was thirsty, but thought he would not drink the last of the water until he saw the lights. "If the boy was here, I would tell him about Estabonita", he said aloud. "He never asked about her, though his parents and the others must have told him." He remembered the visit to meet her father. The father was a proud man with very black hair and a shrewd look. Her brothers and sister were polite. Her mother was a pretty woman, quiet and gentle. Estabonita had her beauty but not her nature.
"I wish to marry your daughter," he told the father. "I am a fisherman. I work hard and will take good care of her." The father said that a fisherman must have a boat and a house to take good care of a wife. "I have a house, and am saving to buy a boat," he said. Her father was not happy to hear how little I had saved. He asked me about my house and then told me to come back and talk again when I had a boat and when had a bigger house with a bed and a table and chair.
Estabonita would not agree. She told her father that I would work harder and save more if I had a wife. She said her dote would help, and that with it they could buy a bed and a table. Her father said that if he gave me a dote I would drink it away. Estabonita became very angry. "Do you think I would marry a drunkard?" she said. "You have raised us to have common sense and to be wise. I will marry Santiago no matter what you say. With or without a dote." They argued. Both were very stubborn. Her mother said nothing.
The quarrel grew more heated and finally Estabonita took my arm and we left the house and walked through the town. She said she was sorry her father was such a fool, but that we would marry. We had a pleasant few hours, and she told me to go home. She would persuade her father. We kissed for the first time. I went home thinking she would win because she was more stubborn than her father.
They were good times, he thought, but why do I think of them now? Perhaps because of the good luck that the fish brought. Thank you, fish.
It was about midnight before he first saw the glow in the sky. It grew brighter as he sailed, and soon the lights were steady to see across the ocean. The breeze increased. He steered the skiff inside the glow and drank the last water from the bottle.
I will be glad to go to bed, the old man thought. It has been four days since I left and I worked very hard to catch the fish. My back hurts, and my side and my hands, and I have a strange taste in my mouth, coppery and sweet. It feels as if something in my chest is broken. I will be too tired to sell the fish. I will go to the shack and sleep, and the boy and the other fishermen will butcher the marlin for me and carry it to the fish house. They will have to cut in in two pieces. It will be too heavy to carry whole.
The boy will be worried, I have been gone so long. He will be glad to see me. I will be glad to see him. His father was right to make him fish in other boats when my luck was bad. He loves and respects his father, but he loves me, too. He thinks I am the best fisherman in the world. He will be a good fisherman himself when he is grown. I have taught him how to handle a boat and how to find fish. I have also taught him all my tricks for fighting the marlin and bringing him in. But that is not enough. He will be a good fisherman because he will have the resolution to keep going when the fish is cunning and strong, or when luck is bad and he finds no fish.
His thoughts returned to Estabonita. It was two weeks before she sent a message. She had persuaded her father. The bans were posted, and they would be married the next month. Her father would give a dote of $500. She did not say how she had persuaded her father.
We were married. The priest blessed us. Her mother was glad and her father was silent, but he gave us the dote and a big party with much food and drink. All of Estabonita’s friends and cousins were there, and many of my friends came. We danced and sang and were very happy. It was early morning before we got back to the shack. It was clean and I had borrowed money to buy a bed and table and chairs. She was very shy and had no experience, but she was beautiful and we loved each other. She would have loved the boy, too.
He dozed off again, dreaming of the boy and of his life with Estabonita. When he woke there was light in the east and soon the sun rose. He saw fishing boats in the distance, and they saw him and they all came. They were amazed, and told him there had never been such a fish. The boy was in one of the boats and they pulled alongside and the boy came into the skiff.
The boy was very happy to see the old man. It had been a long four days and he had been worried. The old man was the best fisherman, but perhaps he had found a trouble he could not escape. Perhaps there was a freighter that hit him in the night. Perhaps he fell into the sea and could not climb back into the skiff. He could see how tired the old man was, and how he hurt. He took the tiller. He put sacks in the bottom of the skiff and told the old man to lie down.
"Did they look for me?" he said as the boy steered to the harbour. "Of course," said the boy. "with coast guard and with planes."
"The ocean is very big and it is hard to see a small skiff," the old man said. "As you see, my luck has changed. Tomorrow you will come with me and we will catch more fish. I needed you. It was very hard fighting the fish all alone."
"Tomorrow you will have a day of rest," the boy replied. "We can fish together the day after that."
The old man said nothing. It would be good to rest. He would sleep the whole day through. The other fishermen were following them, guessing at the weight of the fish.
He slept now, in the skiff, and they sailed into the harbour at noon and pulled in to the little patch of shingle below the rocks. It seemed the whole town was there. They were awed by the size of the fish and were glad that the old man’s luck had changed. The old man wanted to unstep the mast and start cleaning the fish, but the boy told him to leave that to the fishermen. He helped the old man up and supported him as they climbed the hill to the shack. He put him into the bed and went to get some water. The old man drank some water and the boy used a rag to clean his hands and shoulders, and the cut in his head. Then he spread the army blanket over the old man and told him to wait, and he would bring some food.
The old man closed his eyes. It was good to be in bed. The boy and the fishermen would take care of the fish, and he could sleep until he was rested and did not hurt so much. His thoughts returned to Estabonita. They had been very happy here in the shack. She had put up the pictures and built some shelves for their clothes and for dishes and cooking pots. She was a fine cook and he always had a good breakfast before he went fishing, and a lunch to take on the boat. When he returned in the afternoon she greeted him with a kiss. He often brought a bonita or albacore, and she cooked it with rice or beans, and a fried banana or mango. Other men were not so lucky in their wives.
He remembered her picture, and with some effort got out of bed and found it on the shelf. It was taken one day when they went to Havana to buy her a new dress. She said she did not need a new dress but he said she would need it for he was going to take her dancing. They found a dance hall and danced for hours. Perhaps they were celebrating her birthday, but he did not remember.
He lay down and looked at the picture. All her life she was as pretty as the day they met. She was wise with money. They used part of the dote to pay the loan he got to buy the furniture. She had a garden and grew beans and squash and corn. She raised chickens, so we had eggs. Sometimes she worked in the Terrace for Martin. She had learned about buying and selling from her father, and showed Martin how his store could make more money. In a year they made a down payment on the skiff. He was a good fisherman and in a few more years they paid off that loan.
His chest hurt again. It would be good to sleep after the boy came back with the food.
Sometimes Estabonita came fishing with him. She was good company. Like the boy. She learned how to steer the skiff and helped him pull in the fish. One time they caught three marlin. The first two they lifted into the skiff. The third they had to lash to the side. But the three fish together did not weigh as much as this one.
They had named the skiff Gracias, to thank the Lord for bringing them together, but when she was gone he scratched the name off the stern. He did not want to remember. God should not have taken her away. He shut his eyes again. God should have given us children, he thought.
In a few minutes the boy started back up the hill with the food. The old man looked very tired, the boy thought. His hands were cut, and his shoulders where the line rested when he fought the fish. I should have disobeyed my papa and gone with him. He has always been so good to me. Why did I fail him this time? I will always fish with him from now on. No matter if his luck is good or bad.
When he reached the shack, he found the old man asleep. The boy shook his shoulder. "Wake up, old man," he said. "You must eat a little before you sleep." The old man did not open his eyes. The boy shook him again. Then he looked closely and began to cry. "Santiago," he said. "Please. Why did you leave me? Your luck had changed. We would fish together again and I would be your partner. We would catch big marlin every day .. " He put his arms around his friend and cried and cried. The tears fell softly on the picture, clasped in the old man’s hands across his chest.
The End
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by Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)
It is my view that Mr. Hemingway’s pessimism was misdirected.
Introduction:
The old man had a run of bad luck. His helper, the boy, was made by his parents to fish with other, luckier fishermen. After three days alone and far at sea, the old man finally lands an enormous marlin and ties it to the skiff.
In the end, sharks attack the fish, and by the time the old man reaches port the marlin is only a skeleton.
A Better Ending
They sailed well and the old man soaked his hands in the salt water and tried to keep his head clear. There were high cumulus clouds and enough cirrus above them so that the old man knew the breeze would last all night.
It took eighty-four days for my luck to change, he thought. Alone, and out of sight of land, I caught the biggest fish I have ever seen. This breeze is part of the luck. I will need it to get home. The skiff is very slow with the fish lashed alongside. Soon it will be dark and I will see the lights of Havana. It will be noon tomorrow before I reach the harbour.
The old man prayed, for he had promised to say ten Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys if he caught the fish. He added a prayer of thanks to the Blessed Virgin for changing his luck. Now the boy would fish with him again and he would not be so alone, he thought. With the boy it would have been easier. He would have held the line when the old man slept. He would have helped bring the fish in.
"The boy was five when we first went out," said the old man out loud to himself. " I will always remember. He was eager to learn, and willing. I showed him how to steer the skiff, to step the mast and to rig the boom. We had sardines for bait, and he quickly learned how to bait the hooks and put lines over the side at the right depth. Over the first weeks we talked about baseball, and I told him stories. About the lions on the beach in Africa, and the hand game in Casablanca where they called me ‘The Champion’ because I had beaten the Negro, and the time I had fallen while changing sails on the square-rigged ship." It was my first day up the mast, he thought. The wind changed, and the sail pushed me. If I had fallen on the deck, that would have been the end. I would never have owned a boat, or taught the boy. But I was lucky, then. I fell into the sea and they turned and pulled me out. Sometimes sharks would follow the ship waiting for waste to be thrown away. There were no sharks that day. Another piece of luck.
He hoped no sharks would come today. They would rip the flesh from his fish. By the time he reached home he would have only the head and the tail and the backbone in between. "If the sharks come I will try to defend you", he told the fish, "but I’m afraid I would lose. The sharks are hard to fight."
The wind stayed steady. The skiff was not easy to steer with the fish at its side. The old man had to hold the tiller to the right to keep the skiff on course. He was headed south-west, and his straw hat kept the sun out of his eyes. The old man dozed. His hands and back still hurt, but he was feeling better. Finally he slept. He still held the tiller under his arm. Long ago he had found how to keep on course when he was not awake.
He first dreamed about life on the square rigged ships. They sailed to England and France and Africa, carrying cotton, peanuts, ivory, sugar, coconut oil, and other things the old man did not remember. He took his turn on watch. He worked the sails and sometimes was helmsman, but he did not load or unload the cargo. One time they were chased by pirates off the Canary Islands, but they were lucky and found a naval ship before the pirates caught them.
It was near Benguela that he saw the lions. The crew could go ashore because they were loading and unloading for several days. The old man asked about lions, and a local fisherman took him along the coast. It was early morning. They sailed past a beach, and the fisherman pointed. There were twenty lions there, and the fisherman anchored his boat. They watched for an hour. The small lions played like kittens. They jumped and hit each other with their paws. They rolled in the sand. Their mothers lay in the shade and paid no attention. There was one male lion who watched the boat.
Then the old man’s dream changed, and he was twenty. He was drinking beer at the Terrace, and a girl came in the door. No one had seen her before. All the men noticed that she was very pretty, but he was the only one who moved.
She went to the counter, and Martin came and she asked him for some stew. The old man stood next to her. "I am Santiago," he said. She smiled and said her name was Estabonita and she was going to visit her brother down the coast. He told her she had the right name for a pretty girl, and she blushed. He paid for her stew when Martin brought it, and after she ate they walked along the shore. She told him she had a sister and four brothers, and that her father owned a store. He had not wanted her to go alone to visit her brother, but she was a stubborn girl, and won him over.
He told her about his years on the sailing ship, and about the lions. "Now I am a fisherman," he said. "I will save money and buy a boat for myself." He did not tell her that he would not eat that day after paying for her stew.
He awoke from his dream. The skiff was still sailing south-west. I have not dreamed about Estabonita for many years, he thought. Not since I took her picture from the wall and put it on the shelf under my shirts. She was the best wife a man could have, but she was sad that we never had children.
"She never knew the boy," he said aloud. "She was gone before he was born." The old man never thought of her as dying. She was there, and then she was gone. The months when she began to hurt, when she lost weight, when she could no longer get out of bed, he made himself forget. Toward the end he was drunk much of the time. When she was gone he stayed drunk for weeks.
The old man shook his head to chase away the memory. This fish will make me rich, he thought. It will sell for $300 and I will buy a new sail and a new shirt. The boy and I will go to Havana and see a baseball game. We will buy a lottery ticket. I will repay Martin for the meals he gave while my luck was bad. Now that my luck is good, the boy’s father will let him fish with me again. It was very difficult to fish alone. The boy is good company. We don’t talk much. Only when there is trouble with the wind or the skiff or a fish.
He cut strips of meat from the fish and ate them. He was not really hungry, but he knew the meat would help him heal. The pain in his back and shoulders and hand would slowly go away. He was very thirsty, but there was only one drink left in the bottle, and he had many hours to go before he would reach the harbour.
In a while the sun went down. The old man looked for lights on shore, but could see only the stars. "I will soon see Havana," he told himself, "but even then it will be a long sail before we are home."
His thoughts again went back to the past. Estabonita had gone on to see her brother. She was back two days later and was waiting when he came in from fishing. They ate together and talked. He showed her his shack. He was ashamed, for his clothes were scattered around the room and there was no furniture. His bed was a pile of weeds and grass on the dirt floor, but she said it could be made better with a little work. She left for home while it was still light. They agreed he would visit her and meet her father the next week. Nothing was said, but already they knew they would be husband and wife.
He had had women before, of course. In Havana, and in Casablanca and Dakar when he was before the mast. He did not remember them. He only remembered the lions, on the beach. There were both lions and women in Africa. Why do I remember the animals, he thought, and not the women? He supposed it was because the lions were like nothing he had ever seen before. He had known there were lions in Africa, but he had heard only that they were fierce and dangerous. No one had told him that they played, like children.
The boy Manolin had never played like the lions. His parents were strict, and he worked as soon as he could walk
The old man heard flying fish soaring in the darkness above the water. One flew into the skiff and it thumped in the bottom of the boat. He reached down and found it and threw it back into the ocean. "Fly away, fish, and don’t come back," he said. "I don’t need you now. I don’t need bait. I have caught all the fish I am going to catch today. Tell your brothers how big my fish is." He thought the flying fish and the dolphin must have seen even larger fish as they roamed the sea. "Don’t tell the sharks we are here," he added.
The old man still could not see the glow of Havana. The Dodgers once had their spring training in Havana, he thought. It was the first year Jackie Robinson played. Why did it take so long for Negroes to be in the Major Leagues? They have played in the Cuban Leagues since I was a boy. Robinson was good, though not as good as the great DiMaggio. They met in the World Series that year. Robinson stole two bases, but DiMaggio hit two home runs, and the Yankees won.
The trade wind held and the skiff sailed on. He was thirsty, but thought he would not drink the last of the water until he saw the lights. "If the boy was here, I would tell him about Estabonita", he said aloud. "He never asked about her, though his parents and the others must have told him." He remembered the visit to meet her father. The father was a proud man with very black hair and a shrewd look. Her brothers and sister were polite. Her mother was a pretty woman, quiet and gentle. Estabonita had her beauty but not her nature.
"I wish to marry your daughter," he told the father. "I am a fisherman. I work hard and will take good care of her." The father said that a fisherman must have a boat and a house to take good care of a wife. "I have a house, and am saving to buy a boat," he said. Her father was not happy to hear how little I had saved. He asked me about my house and then told me to come back and talk again when I had a boat and when had a bigger house with a bed and a table and chair.
Estabonita would not agree. She told her father that I would work harder and save more if I had a wife. She said her dote would help, and that with it they could buy a bed and a table. Her father said that if he gave me a dote I would drink it away. Estabonita became very angry. "Do you think I would marry a drunkard?" she said. "You have raised us to have common sense and to be wise. I will marry Santiago no matter what you say. With or without a dote." They argued. Both were very stubborn. Her mother said nothing.
The quarrel grew more heated and finally Estabonita took my arm and we left the house and walked through the town. She said she was sorry her father was such a fool, but that we would marry. We had a pleasant few hours, and she told me to go home. She would persuade her father. We kissed for the first time. I went home thinking she would win because she was more stubborn than her father.
They were good times, he thought, but why do I think of them now? Perhaps because of the good luck that the fish brought. Thank you, fish.
It was about midnight before he first saw the glow in the sky. It grew brighter as he sailed, and soon the lights were steady to see across the ocean. The breeze increased. He steered the skiff inside the glow and drank the last water from the bottle.
I will be glad to go to bed, the old man thought. It has been four days since I left and I worked very hard to catch the fish. My back hurts, and my side and my hands, and I have a strange taste in my mouth, coppery and sweet. It feels as if something in my chest is broken. I will be too tired to sell the fish. I will go to the shack and sleep, and the boy and the other fishermen will butcher the marlin for me and carry it to the fish house. They will have to cut in in two pieces. It will be too heavy to carry whole.
The boy will be worried, I have been gone so long. He will be glad to see me. I will be glad to see him. His father was right to make him fish in other boats when my luck was bad. He loves and respects his father, but he loves me, too. He thinks I am the best fisherman in the world. He will be a good fisherman himself when he is grown. I have taught him how to handle a boat and how to find fish. I have also taught him all my tricks for fighting the marlin and bringing him in. But that is not enough. He will be a good fisherman because he will have the resolution to keep going when the fish is cunning and strong, or when luck is bad and he finds no fish.
His thoughts returned to Estabonita. It was two weeks before she sent a message. She had persuaded her father. The bans were posted, and they would be married the next month. Her father would give a dote of $500. She did not say how she had persuaded her father.
We were married. The priest blessed us. Her mother was glad and her father was silent, but he gave us the dote and a big party with much food and drink. All of Estabonita’s friends and cousins were there, and many of my friends came. We danced and sang and were very happy. It was early morning before we got back to the shack. It was clean and I had borrowed money to buy a bed and table and chairs. She was very shy and had no experience, but she was beautiful and we loved each other. She would have loved the boy, too.
He dozed off again, dreaming of the boy and of his life with Estabonita. When he woke there was light in the east and soon the sun rose. He saw fishing boats in the distance, and they saw him and they all came. They were amazed, and told him there had never been such a fish. The boy was in one of the boats and they pulled alongside and the boy came into the skiff.
The boy was very happy to see the old man. It had been a long four days and he had been worried. The old man was the best fisherman, but perhaps he had found a trouble he could not escape. Perhaps there was a freighter that hit him in the night. Perhaps he fell into the sea and could not climb back into the skiff. He could see how tired the old man was, and how he hurt. He took the tiller. He put sacks in the bottom of the skiff and told the old man to lie down.
"Did they look for me?" he said as the boy steered to the harbour. "Of course," said the boy. "with coast guard and with planes."
"The ocean is very big and it is hard to see a small skiff," the old man said. "As you see, my luck has changed. Tomorrow you will come with me and we will catch more fish. I needed you. It was very hard fighting the fish all alone."
"Tomorrow you will have a day of rest," the boy replied. "We can fish together the day after that."
The old man said nothing. It would be good to rest. He would sleep the whole day through. The other fishermen were following them, guessing at the weight of the fish.
He slept now, in the skiff, and they sailed into the harbour at noon and pulled in to the little patch of shingle below the rocks. It seemed the whole town was there. They were awed by the size of the fish and were glad that the old man’s luck had changed. The old man wanted to unstep the mast and start cleaning the fish, but the boy told him to leave that to the fishermen. He helped the old man up and supported him as they climbed the hill to the shack. He put him into the bed and went to get some water. The old man drank some water and the boy used a rag to clean his hands and shoulders, and the cut in his head. Then he spread the army blanket over the old man and told him to wait, and he would bring some food.
The old man closed his eyes. It was good to be in bed. The boy and the fishermen would take care of the fish, and he could sleep until he was rested and did not hurt so much. His thoughts returned to Estabonita. They had been very happy here in the shack. She had put up the pictures and built some shelves for their clothes and for dishes and cooking pots. She was a fine cook and he always had a good breakfast before he went fishing, and a lunch to take on the boat. When he returned in the afternoon she greeted him with a kiss. He often brought a bonita or albacore, and she cooked it with rice or beans, and a fried banana or mango. Other men were not so lucky in their wives.
He remembered her picture, and with some effort got out of bed and found it on the shelf. It was taken one day when they went to Havana to buy her a new dress. She said she did not need a new dress but he said she would need it for he was going to take her dancing. They found a dance hall and danced for hours. Perhaps they were celebrating her birthday, but he did not remember.
He lay down and looked at the picture. All her life she was as pretty as the day they met. She was wise with money. They used part of the dote to pay the loan he got to buy the furniture. She had a garden and grew beans and squash and corn. She raised chickens, so we had eggs. Sometimes she worked in the Terrace for Martin. She had learned about buying and selling from her father, and showed Martin how his store could make more money. In a year they made a down payment on the skiff. He was a good fisherman and in a few more years they paid off that loan.
His chest hurt again. It would be good to sleep after the boy came back with the food.
Sometimes Estabonita came fishing with him. She was good company. Like the boy. She learned how to steer the skiff and helped him pull in the fish. One time they caught three marlin. The first two they lifted into the skiff. The third they had to lash to the side. But the three fish together did not weigh as much as this one.
They had named the skiff Gracias, to thank the Lord for bringing them together, but when she was gone he scratched the name off the stern. He did not want to remember. God should not have taken her away. He shut his eyes again. God should have given us children, he thought.
In a few minutes the boy started back up the hill with the food. The old man looked very tired, the boy thought. His hands were cut, and his shoulders where the line rested when he fought the fish. I should have disobeyed my papa and gone with him. He has always been so good to me. Why did I fail him this time? I will always fish with him from now on. No matter if his luck is good or bad.
When he reached the shack, he found the old man asleep. The boy shook his shoulder. "Wake up, old man," he said. "You must eat a little before you sleep." The old man did not open his eyes. The boy shook him again. Then he looked closely and began to cry. "Santiago," he said. "Please. Why did you leave me? Your luck had changed. We would fish together again and I would be your partner. We would catch big marlin every day .. " He put his arms around his friend and cried and cried. The tears fell softly on the picture, clasped in the old man’s hands across his chest.
The End
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