第2章 Talking Before the Sea
“wake up old man,”the boy said and put his hand on one of the old man"s knees
the old man opened his eyes and for a moment he was ing back from a long way awaythen he smiled
“what have you got”he asked
“supper,”said the boy“ we"re going to have supper”
“i"m not very hungry”
“e on and eatyou can"t fish and not eat”
“i have,”the old man said getting up and taking the newspaper and folding itthen he started to fold the blanket“keep the blanket around you,”the boy saidyou"ll not fish without eating while i"m alive
“then live a long time and take care of yourself,”the old man said“ what are we eating”
“black beans and rice,fried bananas,and some stew”
the boy had brought them in a two-decker metal container from the terracethe two sets of knives and forks and spoons were in his pocket with a paper-napkin wrapped around each set
“who gave this to you”
“martinthe owner”
“i must thank him”
“i thanked him already,”the boy said“you don"t need to thank him”
“i"ll give him the belly meat of a big fish,”the old man said“ has he done this for us more than once”
“i think so”
“i must give him something more than the belly meat thenhe is very thoughtful for us”
“he sent two beers”
“i like the beer in cans best”
“i knowbut this is in bottles,hatuey beer,and i take back the bottles”
“that"s very kind of you,”the old man said“should we eat”
“i"ve been asking you to,”the boy told him gently“i have not wished to open the container until you were ready”“i"m ready now,”the old man said“ i only needed time to wash”
where did you washthe boy thoughtthe village water supply was two streets down the roadi must have water here for him,the boy thought,and soap and a good towelwhy am i so thoughtless i must get him another shirt and a jacket for the winter and some sort of shoes and another blanket
“your stew is excellent,”the old man said
“tell me about the baseball,”the boy asked him
“in the american league it is the yankees as i said,”the old man said happily
“they lost today,”the boy told him
“that means nothingthe great dimaggio is himself again”
“they have other men on the team”
“naturallybut he makes the differencein the other league, between brooklyn and philadelphia i must take brooklynbut then i think of dick sisler and those great drives in the old park”
“there was nothing ever like themhe hits the longest ball i have ever seen”
“do you remember when he used to e to the terrace i wanted to take him fishing but i was too timid to ask himthen i asked you to ask him and you were too timid”
“i knowit was a great mistakehe might have gone with usthen we would have that for all of our lives”
“i would like to take the great dimaggio fishing,”the old man said“ they say his father was a fishermanmaybe he was as poor as we are and would understand”
“the great sisler"s father was never poor and he,the father,was playing in the big leagues when he was my age”
“when i was your age i was before the mast on a square rigged ship that ran to africa and i have seen lions on the beaches in the evening”
“i knowyou told me”
“should we talk about africa or about baseball”
“baseball i think,”the boy said“ tell me about the great john jmcgraw”he said jota for j
“he used to e to the terrace sometimes too in the older daysbut he was rough and harsh-spoken and difficult when he was drinkinghis mind was on horses as well as baseballat least he carried lists of horses at all times in his pocket and frequently spoke the names of horses on the telephone”
“he was a great manager,”the boy said“my father thinks he was the greatest”
“because he came here the most times,”the old man said“if durocher had continued to e here each year your father would think him the greatest manager”
“who is the greatest manager,really,luque or mike gonzalez”
“i think they are equal”
“and the best fisherman is you”
“noi know others better”
“que va,”the boy said“ there are many good fishermen and some great onesbut there is only you”
“thank youyou make me happyi hope no fish will e along so great that he will prove us wrong”
“there is no such fish if you are still strong as you say”“i may not be as strong as i think,”the old man said“ but i know many tricks and i have resolution”
“you ought to go to bed now so that you will be fresh in the morningi will take the things back to the terrace”
“good night theni will wake you in the morning”
“you"re my alarm clock,”the boy said
“age is my alarm clock,”the old man said“ why do old men wake so earlyis it to have one longer day”
“i don"t know,”the boy said“all i know is that young boys sleep late and hard”
“i can remember it,”the old man said“ i"ll waken you in time”
“i do not like for him to waken meit is as though i were inferior”
“i know”
“sleep well old man”
the boy went outthey had eaten with no light on the table and the old man took off his trousers and went to bed in the darkhe rolled his trousers up to make a pillow ,putting the newspaper inside themhe rolled himself in the blanket and slept on the other old newspapers that covered the springs of the bed
he was asleep in a short time and he dreamed of africa when he was a boy and the long golden beaches and the white beaches,so white they hurt your eyes,and the high capes and the great brown mountainshe lived along that coast now every night and in his dreams he heard the surf roar and saw the native boats e riding through ithe smelled the tar and oakum of the deck as he slept and he smelled the smell of africa that the land breeze brought at morning
usually when he smelled the land breeze he woke up and dressed to go and wake the boybut tonight the smell of the land breeze came very early and he knew it was too early in his dream and went on dreaming to see the white peaks of the islands rising from the sea and then he dreamed of the different harbors and roadsteads of the canary islands
he no longer dreamed of storms,nor of women,nor of great occurrences ,nor of great fish,nor fights,nor contests of strength,nor of his wifehe only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beachthey played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boyhe never dreamed about the boyhe simply woke,looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on he urinated outside the shack and then went up the road to wake the boyhe was shivering with the morning coldbut he knew he would shiver himself warm and that soon he would be rowing
the door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and he opened it and walked in quietly with his bare feetthe boy was asleep on a cot in the first room and the old man could see him clearly with the light that came in from the dying moonhe took hold of one foot gently and held it until the boy woke and turned and looked at himthe old man nodded and the boy took his trousers from the chair by the bed and, sitting on the bed,pulled them on
the old man went out the door and the boy came after himhe was sleepy and the old man put his arms across his shoulders and said,“i am sorry”
“que va”the boy said“ it is what a man must do”
they walked down the road to the old man"s shack and all along the road,in the dark,barefoot men were moving, carrying the masts of their boats
when they reached the old man"s shack the boy took the rolls of line in the basket and the harpoon and gaff and the old man carried the mast with the furled sail on his shoulder
“do you want coffee”the boy asked
“we"ll put the gear in the boat and then get some”
they had coffee from condensed milk cans at an early morning place that served fishermen
“how did you sleep old man”the boy askedhe was waking up now although it was still hard for him to leave his sleep
“very well,manolin,”the old man said“ i feel confident today”
“so do i,”the boy said“now i must get your sardines and mine and your fresh baitshe brings our gear himselfhe never wants anyone to carry anything”
“we"re different,”the old man said“i let you carry things when you were five years old”
“i know it,”the boy said“i"ll be right back have another coffeewe have credit here”
he walked off,barefooted on the coral rocks,to the ice house where the baits were stored
the old man drank his coffee slowlyit was all he would have all day and he knew that he should take itfor a long time now eating had bored him and he never carried a lunchhe had a bottle of water in the bow of the skiff and that was all he needed for the day
the boy was back now with the sardines and the two baits wrapped in a newspaper and they went down the trail to the skiff,feeling the pebbled sand under their feet,and lifted the skiff and slid her into the water
“good luck old man”
“good luck,”the old man said he fitted the rope lashings of the oars onto the thole pins and,leaning forward against the thrust of the blades in the water,he began to row out of the harbor in the darkthere were other boats from the other beaches going out to sea and the old man heard the dip and push of their oars even though he could not see them now the moon was below the hills