From Santiago waking Manolin at the start of the eighty-fifth
day since Santiago has caught a fish to Santiago’s promise to kill
the marlin before the day ends
Summary
The old man hit him on the head for kindness
and kicked him, his body still shuddering, under the shade of the
stern.
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The next morning, before sunrise, the old man
goes to Manolin’s house to wake the boy. The two head back to Santiago’s
shack, carry the old man’s gear to his boat, and drink coffee from
condensed milk cans. Santiago has slept well and is confident about the
day’s prospects. He and Manolin part on the beach, wishing each
other good luck.
The old man rows steadily away from shore,
toward the deep waters of the Gulf Stream. He hears the leaps and
whirs of the flying fish, which he considers to be his friends,
and thinks with sympathy of the small, frail birds that try to catch
them. He loves the sea, though at times it can be cruel. He thinks
of the sea as a woman whose wild behavior is beyond her control.
The old man drops his baited fishing lines to various measured depths
and rows expertly to keep them from drifting with the current. Above all
else, he is precise.
The sun comes up. Santiago continues to move away from
shore, observing his world as he drifts along. He sees flying fish
pursued by dolphins; a diving, circling seabird; Sargasso weed,
a type of seaweed found in the Gulf Stream; the distasteful purple
Portuguese man-of-war; and the small fish that swim among the jellyfish-like creatures’
filaments. Rowing farther and farther out, Santiago follows the
seabird that is hunting for fish, using it as a guide. Soon, one
of the old man’s lines goes taut. He pulls up a ten-pound tuna, which,
he says out loud, will make a lovely piece of bait. He wonders when
he developed the habit of talking to himself but does not remember.
He thinks that if the other fishermen heard him talking, they would
think him crazy, although he knows he isn’t. Eventually, the old
man realizes that he has sailed so far out that he can no longer
see the green of the shore.
When the projecting stick that marks the top
of the hundred-fathom line dips sharply, Santiago is sure that the
fish tugging on the line is of a considerable size, and he prays
that it will take the bait. The marlin plays with the bait for a
while, and when it does finally take the bait, it starts to move
with it, pulling the boat. The old man gives a mighty pull, then
another, but he gains nothing. The fish drags the skiff farther
into the sea. No land at all is visible to Santiago now.
All day the fish pulls the boat as the old
man braces the line with his back and holds it taut in his hands,
ready to give more line if necessary. The struggle goes on all night,
as the fish continues to pull the boat. The glow given off by the
lights of Havana gradually fades, signifying that the boat is the
farthest from shore it has been so far. Over and over, the old man
wishes he had the boy with him. When he sees two porpoises playing
in the water, Santiago begins to pity his quarry and consider it
a brother. He thinks back to the time that he caught one of a pair
of marlin: the male fish let the female take the bait, then he stayed
by the boat, as though in mourning. Although the memory makes him
sad, Santiago’s determination is unchecked: as the marlin swims
out, the old man goes “beyond all people in the world” to find him.
The sun rises and the fish has not tired, though it is
now swimming in shallower waters. The old man cannot increase the
tension on the line, because if it is too taut it will break and
the fish will get away. Also, if the hook makes too big a cut in
the fish, the fish may get away from it. Santiago hopes that the
fish will jump, because its air sacs would fill and prevent the
fish from going too deep into the water, which would make it easier
to pull out. A yellow weed attaches to the line, helping to slow
the fish. Santiago can do nothing but hold on. He pledges his love
and respect to the fish, but he nevertheless promises that he will
kill his opponent before the day ends.
