Then he reminds himself to eat the tuna he caught earlier before it spoils, to keep himself strong. To help me and to see this." He thinks that, although no one should be alone in old age, it's unavoidable. Santiago briefly wonders about the results of the baseball game today and wishes he had a radio but then snaps himself up, scolding himself to keep his mind on what he's doing: "You must do nothing stupid." Again, Santiago says aloud, "I wish I had the boy. He considers that if he loses the glare of Havana, then they must be going more eastward. Although the fish had been pulling the boat to the northwest, Santiago realizes that the current must be carrying them eastward now. In the dark, the line looks like a phosphorescent streak in the water. Then he ponders various times when the fish might come up so he can see it.Īfter the sun goes down, Santiago ties the dried sack that had covered the bait box around his neck, so the sack hangs down his back and serves as a cushion under the fish line. When he realizes he can no longer see anything of the land, he reminds himself that he can always sail back by following the glow coming from Havana at night. Santiago drinks a bit of water from a bottle he has tucked away in the bow and tries not to think, but simply endure. He thinks about how he hooked the fish at noon and has been holding onto the line for four hours but hasn't yet had a first glimpse of the fish. But he immediately assures himself that there are plenty of things he can do. For the first of many times during his great struggle, Santiago says fervently, "I wish I had the boy."Īs the fish tows the boat, Santiago wonders what he'll do if the fish suddenly dives down deep and then dies. He takes the weight of the taut line against his back, bracing himself against the boat and leaning back against the fish's pull on the line. When he feels the fish eat the bait, he prepares the reserve coils of line, allows the fish to eat a bit more, and then sets the hook. He assumes the fish will turn and swallow the bait but is afraid to say so, out of a belief that "if you said a good thing it might not happen." Then Santiago feels something hard and heavy and allows the line to play out, going deeper and deeper. He also asks God to help the fish to take the bait, and when the nibbling stops a couple of times, he desperately searches his experience for explanations that indicate the fish is still working on the bait. Santiago thinks about how big this fish must be, this far out and in this month, and desperately tries to coax or will the fish to eat the bait.
Santiago unleashes the line from the stick and lets the line run through his fingers, careful not to put any tension on it. Holding the line gently between thumb and forefinger, Santiago somehow knows that a hundred fathoms down a great marlin is eating the sardines covering the hook that projects from the head of the small tuna. A sudden dip in one of the green sticks heralds the start of the novella's central battle.
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