I have no understanding of it and I am not sure that I believe in it.Perhaps it was a sin to kill the fish. I suppose it was even though I did itto keep me alive and feed many people. But then everything is a sin. Donot think about sin. It is much too late for that and there are people whoare paid to do it. Let them think about it. You were born to be a fisher-man as the fish was born to be a fish. San Pedro was a fisherman as wasthe father of the great DiMaggio. But he liked to think about all things that he was involved in andsince there was nothing to read and he did not have a radio, he thoughtmuch and he kept on thinking about sin. You did not kill the fish only tokeep alive and to sell for food, he thought. You killed him for pride andbecause you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and youloved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is itmore ? "You think too much, old man," he said aloud. But you enjoyed killing the dentuso, he thought. He lives on the livefish as you do. He is not a scavenger nor just a moving appetite as somesharks are. He is beautiful and noble and knows no fear of anything. "I killed him in self-defense," the old man said aloud. "And I killedhim well. "
Besides, he thought, everything kills everything else in some way.Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The boy keeps me alive,he thought. I must not deceive myself too much.
He leaned over the side and pulled loose a piece of the meat of thefish where the shark had cut him. He chewed it and noted its qualityand its good taste. It was firm and juicy, like meat, but it was not red.There was no stringiness in it and he knew that it would bring the highestprice In the market. But there was no way to keep its scent out of thewater and the old man knew that a very had time was coming.
The breeze was steady. It had backed a little further into the north-east and he knew that meant that it would not fall off. The old manlooked ahead of him but he could see no sails nor could he see the hullnor the smoke of any ship. There were only the flying fish that went upfrom his bow sailing away to either side and the yellow patches of Gulfweed. He could not even see a bird.
He had sailed for two hours, resting in the stern and sometimes che-wing a bit of the meat from the marlin, trying to rest and to be strong,when he saw the first of the two sharks.
"Ay," he said aloud. There is no translation for this word and perhapsit is just a noise such as a man might make, involuntarily, feeling thenail go through his hands and into the wood.
"Galanos," he said aloud. He had seen the second fin now coming upbehind the first and had identified them as shovel-nosed sharks by thebrown, triangular fin and the sweeping movements of the tail. They hadthe scent and were excited and in the stupidity of their great hunger theywere losing and finding the scent in their excitement. But they wereclosing all the time.
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