“The old man was fishing all alone in his boat in the Gulf Stream. For eighty-four days he had been sailing in the sea and had not caught a single fish. For the first forty days he had a boy with him. But day after day did not bring a catch, and the parents told the boy that the old man was now clearly salao, that is, the most unlucky one, and ordered to go to sea in another boat, which really brought three good fish in the first week. It was hard for the boy to watch how the old man returned every day with nothing, and he went ashore to help him carry tackle or a hook, a harpoon and a sail wrapped around the mast. The sail was covered with patches of burlap and, rolled up, resembled the flag of a completely defeated regiment.
This is the backstory of events that unfold in a small fishing village in Cuba. The protagonist is old Santiago, he was "thin, emaciated, deep wrinkles cut through the back of his head, and his cheeks were covered with brown spots of harmless skin cancer, which is caused by the sun's rays reflected by the surface of the tropical sea." It was he who taught the boy Manolin to fish, and the boy loved the old man. He is full of pity for the old man, wants to help him. He is ready to catch him a sardine as a bait for his tomorrow's sailing. Together they go up to Santiago's poor hut, built of strong royal palm shamrocks. In the hut there is only a table, a chair, and in the earthen floor there is a recess for cooking on charcoal. The old man is lonely and poor: his meal is a bowl of yellow rice with fish. They talk to the boy about fishing, how lucky the old man is, the latest sports news, baseball scores, and famous players like DiMaggio. When the tired old man goes to bed, he dreams of the Africa of his youth, “its long golden coasts and shallows, high cliffs and huge white mountains. He no longer dreams of fights, women, or great events. But often distant lands and lions come ashore in his dreams.
The next day, early in the morning, the old man goes on another fishing trip. The boy helps him pull down the sail, prepare the boat. The old man tells him that this time he "believes in luck".
One by one, fishing boats leave the shore and go to sea. Rowing the oars, the old man feels the approach of morning. He loves the sea, he thinks of it with tenderness, as a woman who "gives great favors." He loves both birds and fish that live in the bottomless green mass. Having put the bait on the hooks, he slowly swims with the flow. He mentally communicates with birds, with fish. Accustomed to loneliness, he talks aloud to himself. Nature, the ocean are perceived by him as a living being. He knows different fish and inhabitants of the ocean, their habits, he has his own tender attitude towards them. “He loved green turtles for their grace and agility, and also because they were so highly valued, and had a condescending attitude towards clumsy and stupid false carriages dressed in yellow armor, whimsical in love affairs and eating Portuguese fesalia with their eyes closed ".
But then serious fishing begins, and all his attention is focused on the fishing line, its condition: he sensitively captures what is happening in the depths, how the fish reacts to the bait pinned on the hook. At last one of the green twigs trembled, which meant that, at a depth of a hundred fathoms, the marlin began to devour the sardines. The line starts to go down, slipping between his fingers, and he feels a huge weight, which entails it. A dramatic many-hour duel between Santiago and a huge fish unfolds.
He knows when to pull the line. “Pecked,” said the old man. “Now let him eat properly.” He let the line slide between his fingers, and with his left hand tied the free end of the spare skeins to the loop of two spare skeins of the second rod. Now everything was ready. He had three skeins of fishing line in reserve, forty fathoms each, not counting the one on which he kept the fish.
The old man tries to pull up the line, but it doesn't work. On the contrary, she pulls, as if in tow, the boat behind her, slowly shifting to the northwest. And the old man bitterly regrets that there is no boy next to him. But it's good that the fish also pulls to the side, and not down to the bottom. About four hours pass. Noon approaches. This cannot go on forever, the old man reflects, soon the fish will die and then it will be possible to pull it up. But the fish is too tenacious. “I would like to see her,” the old man thinks. “I would like to look at her with at least one eye, then I would know with whom I am dealing.”
The night passes. The fish pulls the boat farther from the shore. The lights of Havana are fading in the distance. The old man is tired, he tightly grips the rope thrown over his shoulder. He cannot be distracted. He is very sorry that Manolin is not around to help him. “It is impossible for a person to be left alone in old age,” he inspires himself. "But it's inevitable." The thought of the fish never leaves him for a second. Sometimes he feels sorry for her. “Well, isn’t this fish a miracle, God alone knows how many years it has lived in the world. Never before have I come across such a strong fish. And just think how strange she is acting. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t jump, because she’s very smart.” Again and again he regrets that his young assistant is not next to him. Refreshed by caught raw tuna, he continues to mentally talk to the fish. “I will not part with you until I die,” the old man tells her.
The fish begins to pull not so powerfully, it has clearly weakened. But the old man's strength is running out. His hand is numb. Finally, the forests suddenly began to go up and fish appeared for the first time on the surface of the ocean. She burns in the sun, her head and back are dark purple, and instead of a nose she has a sword as long as a baseball bat. It is a full two feet longer than the boat. Appearing on the surface, she begins again, apparently frightened, to go into the depths, pulling the boat behind her, and the old man has to mobilize all his strength to prevent her from breaking loose. This is the first time he has to fight such a huge fish alone.
Not believing in God, he reads the prayer "Our Father" ten times. He feels better, but the pain in his arm does not decrease. He understands that the fish is huge, that it is necessary to conserve strength. Although this is unfair, he convinces himself, but I will prove to her what a person is capable of and what he can endure. He calls himself an "extraordinary old man" and must confirm this.
Another day passes. To somehow distract himself, he reminisces about playing in baseball leagues. He remembers how once in a Casablanca tavern he measured his strength with a mighty black man, the strongest man in the port, how they sat at the table for a whole day, not giving up, and how he finally prevailed. He participated in such fights more than once, won, but then gave up this business, deciding that he needed his right hand for fishing.
The battle with the fish continues for many hours. He holds the forest with his right hand, knowing that when his strength runs out, it will be replaced by his left. How much he needs a boy at this moment. But he is alone in the vast ocean, leading a duel with fish of unprecedented size. Finally, the fish, having made several circles, begins to come to the surface. She then approaches the boat, then moves away from it. The old man is preparing a harpoon to finish off the fish. But she steps aside. From fatigue, thoughts are confused in the head of the old man. “Listen, fish,” he tells her. “Because you don’t care to die. Why do you want me to die too.”
The last act of their duel is coming. “He gathered all his pain, and all the rest of his strength, and all his long-lost pride, and threw it all against the torment that the fish endured, and then it turned over and quietly swam on its side, almost reaching the side of the boat with its sword; she almost swam past, long, wide, silver, intertwined with purple stripes, and it seemed that she would never end. Picking up the harpoon, he, with all his might, plunges it into the side of the fish. He feels the iron enter her flesh and push it deeper and deeper...
He is overcome by nausea and weakness, his head is foggy, but he still pulls the fish to the side.
Now the old man ties the fish to the boat and starts moving towards the shore. Mentally, he estimates that the fish weighs at least fifteen hundred pounds, which can be sold for thirty cents a pound. Referring to the famous baseball player, he says to himself, "I think the great DiMaggio would be proud of me today." And even though his hands are still bleeding, he is tired, exhausted, but he defeated the fish. The direction of the wind tells him which way to swim to get home.
An hour passes before the first shark shows up. Smelling the smell of blood, she, now appearing, now disappearing in the depths, rushes after the boat and the fish tied to it. She is in a hurry because the prey is close. She approached the stern, her mouth dug into the skin and meat of the fish, began to tear it apart. In rage and anger, gathering all his strength, the old man hit her with a harpoon. Soon she sinks to the bottom, dragging with her both the harpoon, and part of the rope, and a huge piece of fish.
“Man is not created to suffer defeat,” the old man says, words that have become textbook. “A man can be destroyed, but not defeated.”
It is reinforced by a piece of fish meat in the part where the shark's teeth have been. And at that moment he notices the fins of a whole flock of spotted predators. They are approaching at great speed. The old man meets them by raising an oar with a knife tied to it. With fury, the sharks pounce on the fish. They tear her body. The old man joins them in battle. He kills one of the sharks.
“... At midnight he fought the sharks again and this time he knew that the fight was useless. They attacked him in a whole flock, and he saw only the stripes on the water that their fins traced, and the glow when they rushed to tear the fish. He beat them on the heads with a truncheon and heard the jaws snap and the boat shake as they grabbed the fish from below. He desperately beat with a baton on something invisible that he could only hear and touch, and suddenly he felt something grab the baton and the baton was gone. Finally the sharks left. They had nothing to eat.
When he entered the bay, everyone was already asleep. As he dismantled the mast and lashed the sail, he felt a measure of weariness. Behind the stern of his boat rose a huge fish tail. All that was left of her was a white skeleton. On the shore, the boy meets a tired, crying old man. He reassures Santiago, assures that from now on they will fish together, because he still has a lot to learn from the old man. He believes that he will bring good luck to the old man.
The next morning rich tourists come to the shore. They are surprised to notice a long white spine with a huge tail. The waiter tries to explain to them, but they are very far from understanding the drama that happened here.
The final words of the story: “Upstairs in his hut the old man slept again. He was asleep again, face down, with a boy guarding him. The old man dreamed of lions.
11 CLASS
ERNEST MILLER HEMINGWAY
THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA
(Summary)
It was an old fisherman who fished on the Gulf Stream alone in his boat. For eighty-four days he went out to sea and did not catch a single fish. For the first forty days he had a boy with him. And for those forty unhappy days, the parents told the guy that the old one was now resolutely and irrevocably salao 1, that is, completely mediocre, and ordered his son to go to another fisherman, with whom he caught three big fish in the first week. The guy was offended to see how the old day comes back with nothing, and every time he went to help him - to bring the coiled tackle, harpoon, awn or mast with a sail. The sail was tattered with burlap and wrapped around the mast like a flag of relentless defeat.
Old Santiago was “thin, emaciated, deeply wrinkled at the back of his head, and his cheeks were covered with brown spots of harmless skin cancer, which is caused by the sun's rays reflected by the smooth surface of the tropical sea. Those spots ran down her cheeks all the way to her neck. The old man's palms were cut with deep transverse scars from a braided fishing line, with which he pulled a large fish from the water. And none of those scars were fresh - they were all old, like furrows in parched earth. Everything in him was old, except for the eyes, and they were the color of the sea and shone cheerfully and irresistibly.
It was he who taught the boy Manolin to fish, and the boy loved the old man. He is ready to catch him sardines for his tomorrow's sailing. Together they go up to old Santiago's poor hut, built of strong royal palm shamrocks, and go through the open doors. “The old one leaned the mast against the wall, and the guy placed a box and other tools next to it. The mast was almost as long as the whole hut, molded from tenacious corymbs of the royal palm, known as guano. There was a bed, a table and a chair, but there was simply a hearth on the floor, where the old man kindled charcoal and cooked himself to eat. On the dark walls, from uneven and tightly fitted rough fibrous shields, hung a colored image of the Holy Heart of the Lord and another one - the Bronze Mother of God. Those were memos for his wife. When her tinted photograph also hung on the wall, but the old man took that photo because, looking at it, he felt his loneliness too keenly, and now it lay on a shelf in the corner under his clean shirt.
The old man is lonely and poor: his meal is a bowl of yellow rice with fish. They talk to the boy about fishing, how the old man must be lucky, as well as the latest sports news, baseball scores and famous players such as DiMaggio. When tired Santiago goes to bed, he sees in a dream the Africa of his youth, its long golden shores ... high cliffs and huge white mountains. He no longer dreams of fights, women, or great events. But often distant lands and lions come ashore in his dreams.
The next day, early in the morning, the old man goes on another fishing trip. The boy helps him pull down the sail, prepare the boat. Santiago tells him that since he "believes in luck". One by one, fishing boats leave the shore and go to the open sea. Rowing, the old meets the morning.
“It was still dark, but the old man felt that morning was coming; rowing, he heard quivering sounds over and over again, when a flying fish spluttered out of the water and, whistling through the air with its hard wings, poured thick into the darkness. He loved flying fish - they were his first friends in the ocean. But he felt sorry for the birds, especially the small and fragile sea swallows, which constantly scoured the water in search of food and almost never found it. Therefore, the old man thought: “The life of the birds is even harder than ours... Why are they created so small and frail, like these sea swallows, when the ocean can be terribly cruel? In general, he is kind and beautiful, but sometimes he becomes ruthless, and even so unexpectedly, and all these birds that fly over him, and rush down for bread, and scream with their thin sad voices - they are too fragile for the sea " .
He always mentally called the sea la mar, as those who love him say in Spanish. And although sometimes they remember him with a bad word, they always talk about him as a woman. Some of the younger fishermen, those who hooked buoys to their tackle instead of floats and had motor boats bought at a time when shark liver gave great profit, called him el mar - in the masculine gender. They spoke of him as a rival, as a soulless space, even as an enemy. And the old man always thought of the sea as a woman, a living being that can give great mercy, and deprive her, and if he does something bad or unkind, it is only because such is her nature. “There, and for a month, you disturb the sea in the same way as a woman,” thought the old one.
But then serious fishing begins, and all his attention is focused on the fishing line, its condition: he sensitively captures what is happening in the depths, how the fish reacts to the bait pinned on the hook.
“Yeah,” said the old man. - Yeah, - and quietly put down the oars. Then he reached for the vein and carefully took it with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He felt no tension, no weight, and states the vein freely, without effort. Suddenly she twitched again. This time - lightly, somehow uncertainly; and the old man knew well what that meant. There, in the depths, a hundred sazhens from the boat, marlin was eating sardines strung on a point and a vigan of a hand-riveted hook that had twisted from the head of a small tuna, impaled on a rod.
The old man, carefully holding the fishing line with his left hand, quietly released the noose and removed it from the rod. Now he could freely pass the fishing line between his fingers, so that the fish did not feel any tension.
“In autumn, and so far from the coast, it must be a huge fish,” thought the old man. - eat, fish, eat sardines. Enjoy your health. They're so fresh, and you're out there somewhere over six hundred feet in the dark and cold. Swim around once, and then come and eat.
He felt the vein twitch again, lightly at first, then more violently, as if the head of one of the sardines was sitting tighter on the hook. Then the vein froze.
Come on, the old man said loudly. - Swim again. Treat them the right way. Do they smell bad? Now eat to your health, and then you'll take it to the tuna. It is so tight, cold, very tasty. Don't be afraid, fish, eat."
Old Santiago knows when to pull the line. “Pecked,” said the old man. “Now let him eat properly.” The vein continued to flow into him between his fingers, while he stretched out his left hand and firmly tied the free end of the two spare skeins to the loop of the two spare skeins of the second tackle. Now everything was ready. In addition to the vein on which the state of the fish, he had in stock three more skeins, forty fathoms each.
“Eat some more,” he said. - Eat right away. Eat as much so that the tip of the hook just drives into your heart and kills you, he continued mentally. - And then swim to the surface, and I will stick a harpoon in you. That's okay. Ready? Enough already with you?
The old one tries to pull up the fishing line, but it doesn't work. On the contrary, the fish pulls, as if in tow, the boat behind it, slowly shifting to the north-north-west. And the old man bitterly regrets that there is no boy next to him. But it's good that the fish also pulls to the side, and not down to the bottom. About four hours pass. Noon approaches. This cannot go on forever, the old man reflects, soon the fish will die and then it will be possible to pull it up. But the fish is too tenacious. “I would like to see her,” the old man thinks. “I would like to look at her with at least one eye, then I would know with whom I am dealing.”
“The whole night the fish swam just as steadily, without turning anywhere, the old man could see this from the stars. When the sun went down, the air cooled, and the sweat on the old man's back, shoulders, and legs quickly dried up. In the afternoon, he took the bag with which he covered the chest with bait, and spread it out in the sun to dry. And when the sun went down, he tied a bag around his neck, lowered it onto his back and carefully tucked it under the vein, which now states HER, having passed over his shoulders. The bag softened the pressure, and the old man managed to lean against the prow of the boat in a way that almost made him comfortable. In fact, this posture only slightly relieved the unbearable burden, but the old man believed that now he was almost comfortable.
He is very sorry that Manolin is not around to help him. “It is impossible for a person to remain alone in old age,” he says. "But it's inevitable." The thought of the fish never leaves him for a moment. Sometimes the old one feels sorry for her. “She is a wonderful, unusual fish, and who knows how old she is already,” he thought. “I have never had such a strong fish and behaved so strangely. Apparently, she is very smart and does not jump out. It is enough for her to jump out or pull hard - and I'm kapets. And, apparently, she had already fallen for the hook more than once and knew that this is how it was necessary to fight for the little one. she does not know that there is only one person against her, and even an old one. And what a huge fish it is, and what a good one it will bring in when it has delicious meat. She took live like a male, and pulls like a male, and competes not like a frightened one. I wonder if she does it consciously, or just out of desperation of the soul, like me?
Again and again, he regrets that his young assistant is not next to him. Refreshed by caught raw tuna, he continues to mentally talk to the fish. “I will not part with you until I die,” the old man tells her.
A new day has come, Santiago has eaten a little, but the fish pulls on full of strength, and his arm begins to hurt.
I hate driftwood, he thinks. - It's disgusting that your own body betrays you. When you hit some rotten stuff and you are attacked by diarrhea or vomiting, people are ashamed. And how snags attack, - he mentally called them calambre, - ashamed of himself, especially when no one is around.
If there was a guy here, he would rub my hand, and it would go down from above, from the elbow, - the old man thought. “And in vain, let go of your fingers.”
At that moment, without noticing how the inclination of the vein in the water had changed, he felt with his right hand that the tension was weakening. Then, pulling on the tackle and with might and main threshing with his left hand on the thigh, he saw how the vein slowly rises higher and higher above the water.
“Now she will swim out,” said the old man. - Come on, hand, call. Call, please."
The vein continued little by little, but constantly emerged from the water, and then the surface of the ocean in front of the boat was blown away, and the fish swam out into the light. It flowed out for a long time, as if there was no end to it, and water flowed along its sides. The fish glittered in the sun, its head and back were dark purple, and the wide stripes on its sides appeared pale lilac in the sun, its long sword, like a baseball bat, and pointed at the end, looked like a rapier. The fish emerged from the water to its full length, and then dived again - without a splash, like an experienced diver - and the old man saw how for the last time its large, scythe-like tail flashed, and immediately the vein quickly ran into the water after the fish.
“The fish is huge, and I must curb it,” thought the old man. “You can’t let her feel how strong she is and what she is capable of when she starts to run away. Being her, I would now go to the despair of the soul and give cravings until something would be interrupted. And, thank God, the fish are not as smart as we are, we kill them, but they are much more noble and nimble.
The old man happened to see a lot of big fish. He also saw a lot of fish, weighing over a thousand pounds, and he himself caught two of them in his life, but he never fished alone. And now, himself, a friend far from the shore, was tied to the biggest fish he had ever seen or heard of, and his left hand was still completely bewildered, like the clenched claws of an eagle.
In the meantime, the fish again slowed down its course and swam smoothly, as before.
Not believing in God, the old man begins to mechanically repeat prayers. Sometimes he felt so lost that he couldn't remember the words, and then he began to speak very quickly so that they would speak by themselves. "Theotokos" is easier to pronounce than "Our Father," he noted mentally.
Having said his prayers and having heard himself much better, although his suffering did not ease at all, and perhaps even increased, the old man leaned on the nasal plating and began to mechanically bend and unbend the fingers of his left hand.
He understands that the fish is huge, that he needs to conserve his strength. Although this is unfair, he convinces himself, but I will prove to her what a person is capable of and what he can endure. Santiago refers to himself as "quirky old" and has to prove it.
Another day passes. To somehow distract himself, he recalls playing in baseball leagues and how once in a Casablanca tavern he measured his strength with a mighty black man:
“When the sun went down, the old man, to add to his confidence, began to recall how once in a tavern in Casablanca he measured his strength with a stout Negro from Cienfuegos, who was the first strongman in the port there. All day and all night they sat with their elbows on the line drawn in chalk on the table, and tightly clasped their hands placed upright, and each tried to bend the opponent's hand to the table. At dawn, when the spectators went to the establishments, they began to ask the judge to declare a draw, and he only silently shook his head, the old man made the last jerk of his effort and began to bend the negro's hand lower and lower until it lay on a wooden table top. The competition started on Sunday morning and ended on Monday morning. Many of the spectators were already demanding a draw, because they had to go to work - to load sacks of sugar to the port, and to the Havana Coal Company. If not for this, they would all gladly wait for the end of the competition. And the old man finished it on time before they had to go to work.
Subsequently, he held several more such competitions, but later abandoned them, because he entertained as he really wanted, he could defeat anyone, and in the meantime, all of it hurt his right hand in fishing.
For many hours, his battle with the fish continues. How much he needs a boy at this moment. But he alone in the vast ocean is fighting with unprecedented sizes of fish. Finally, the fish, having made several circles, begins to come to the surface. She then approaches the boat, then moves away from it. The old one prepares a harpoon to finish off the fish. But she steps aside. From fatigue, thoughts are confused in the head of the old man. “Listen, fish,” he tells her. - After all, you still die. Why do you want me to die too.”
The last act of their duel is coming. “He gathered all his pain, and all the rest of his strength, and all his long-lost pride, and threw it all against the torment that the fish endured, and then it turned over and quietly swam on its side, almost reaching the side of the boat with a sword; she almost swam past, long, wide, silver, entwined with purple stripes, and it seemed there would be no end to her. Raising the harpoon, he, with all his might, sticks it to the side of the fish. He feels how the iron enters her flesh, and plunges it deeper and deeper ...
“The old one dropped the tackle to the ground, stepped on it with his foot, raised the harpoon as high as he could, and how much power was left in him, and the one he called for help at that moment, shielding him in the side of the fish, just behind pectoral fin, which was placed above the water at the level of the human chest. He felt the iron tip go into the fish, and, leaning against the harpoon, he moved it even deeper, and then with his whole body he thrust onto the shaft.
And suddenly the fish, already shocked by death, came to life and emerged high above the water, as if showing all its size, power and beauty. It seemed to hang in the air above the old man's head and his boat. And then, with a grim splash, she fell into the sea, dousing the old and the whole boat with a hail of spray.
The old philosophers were blissful and nauseous, and he saw almost nothing. And yet he freed the rope of the harpoon and began to bypass it little by little with his skinned, bloody hands; and when his eyes cleared a little, he saw that the fish was lying on its back, with its silvery belly up. A long harpoon shaft protruded obliquely from under her pectoral fin, and the sea around her turned red with blood from his heart. At first it was a big dark spot, like a school of fish in blue water, that reached a mile into the abyss. Then she vanished like a cloud. And the fish, silvery, imperturbable, gradually moved behind the waves.
He is overcome by nausea and weakness, his head is foggy, but he still pulls the fish to the side.
Now the old man ties the fish to the boat and starts moving towards the shore. Mentally, he estimates: the fish weighs at least fifteen hundred pounds, which can be sold for thirty cents a pound. Referring to the famous baseball player, he says to himself, "I think the great DiMaggio would be proud of me today." And even though his hands are still bleeding, he is tired, exhausted, but he defeated the fish. The direction of the wind tells him which way to swim to get home.
An hour passes before the first shark shows up. She, either appearing or disappearing in the depths, rushes after the boat and the fish tied to it. She is in a hurry because the prey is close.
“The shark did not appear by chance. She rose from the depths even when a dark bloodstain was swirling in the sea and gen-gen spilled from the surface. It rose so swiftly and fearlessly that it cut through the surface of the blue water and surfaced against the sun. Then she again dived under the water, felt the spirit of blood, which stretched after the boat and the fish, and set off in pursuit with all her legs.
When the old man saw her, he realized that this shark knows no fear and will do as it pleases. While he waited for her to swim closer, he prepared the harpoon and tied the end of the rope tightly.
The shark was already near the stern, and when she ran up to the fish, the old man saw her open mouth, and strange eyes, and hanging her teeth, clapped right up, digging into the fish in front of the tail. The head of the shark was above the water, and the back appeared behind it, and, hearing how the shark tears the skin and flesh of a large fish, the old harpoon is in her head, in the place where the line drawn between her eyes intersects with the line running up from the nose. There, in that place, was the brain, and the old man hit there. He struck with wounded, bloody hands, throwing a sharp harpoon with all his might. Struck without hope, but full of determination and heart-rending rage.
The shark rolled over on its back... it flailed its tail, snapped its jaws, and then suddenly rushed away, furrowing the water like a speedboat... at that moment: the rope bulged tightly, trembled and immediately burst. The shark lay motionless on the water for a moment, while the old man looked at it. Then she slowly sank to the bottom.
She took forty pounds of fish from me,” said the old man. “And also the harpoon and all the line,” he added mentally. “And now my fish is bleeding again, which is attracting other sharks.”
But man was not made for defeat, the old man said aloud. “A person can be destroyed, but not defeated.”
These words of the old fisherman have become a motto for many people.
Santiago fortified himself with a piece of meat from the fish caught in the part of it where the shark's teeth had been. And at that very moment I noticed the fins of a whole flock of spotted predators. They were approaching at great speed. The old man met them by lifting an oar with a knife tied to it...
The old man thought with pleasure about the fish and how it would deal with the shark if it swam free now. I should have cut off her sword and used it to fight the sharks, he thought. But he did not have an ax, and then there was no knife.
“And if I cut it off and somehow managed to tie it to the oar, that would be a weapon. Then we would fight them together. But what are you going to do now, how will they attack at night? What can you do?
“Fight them,” he said. “I will fight them until I die.”
At midnight he fought the sharks again, and this time he knew that this fight was not for life, but for death. Sharks attacked him in a whole flock, and he saw only the stripes on the water that their fins traced, and the glow when they rushed to tear the fish. “He hit the heads with a club and heard the jaws clang and the boat shake as they grabbed the fish from below. He desperately beat with a club on something invisible that he could only hear and touch, and suddenly he felt something grab the club, and the club was gone. Finally the sharks were gone. they had nothing to eat.
The old man knew that now he was completely and hopelessly defeated, and returned to the stern. Sticking a piece of tiller into the opening of the stubble, he saw that he could steer. Then he wrapped his bag around his shoulders and again directed the boat to the shore. The boat was now moving quite easily, and the old man sat to himself, thinking of nothing and feeling nothing. Now he was indifferent, and he only bothered to bring the boat safely and rightly to his native bay.
Somewhere at night, sharks attacked the skeleton of a fish, like those gluttons greedily grabbing the last crumbs from the table. The old man paid no attention to them, and in general did not pay attention to anything, except for the sail and the rudder. He only noted to himself how easily the boat goes, having lost its huge load.
“I have a good boat,” he thought. - Sturdy, not damaged at all, except for the tiller. And the tiller is easy to replace.”
The old man felt that he had already swum with the current, and now he clearly saw the lights of coastal villages ahead. He already knew where he was - it was very close to the house from there.
When the boat entered a small bay, the "Terrace" no longer shone, and the old man realized that everyone had been sleeping for a long time. The wind, and before that everything was getting stronger, now it's really booming. However, it was comfortable in the bay, and the old man moored to a narrow patch of rhini under the rocks. There was no one to help, and he himself pushed the boat as far as he could out of the water. Then he went ashore and pressed him to the rock.
“Going into the hut, he leaned the mast against the wall. In the dark, he found a bottle of water and drank. And then he lay down on the bed. He pulled a blanket over his shoulders, wrapped his back and legs, and immediately fell asleep downstairs on the newspapers, straightening his arms, palms up.
When the guy looked in the door in the morning, the old man was still asleep. The wind whirled so that the fishing boats could not go to sea, and the guy got up late, and then went to the old man's hut, as he did every morning. He saw that the old man was breathing, and then he looked at his hands and began to cry. Then he quietly left the hut to fetch some old coffee, and wept all the way.
A lot of fishermen stood around the boat, looking at what was stuck to the side, and one, rolling up the trousers of his trousers again, went into the water and measured the bones with a long rope.
How is he there? one of the fishermen called out to the guy below.
Asleep! - the guy shouted back. He was not at all ashamed of his tears. - Don't let anyone bother him.
Eighteen feet from nose to tail, the fisherman who measured the bones called out to him.
He took the hot can of coffee to the old man's hut and sat by the bed until he woke up...
Don't get up, the guy told him. - Here, have a drink. -
And he poured coffee into a glass.
The old man took the coffee and drank it.
They overpowered me, Manolina, he said. - They won.
She didn't beat you. Not a fish.
No. Your truth. That was later.
Now we will fish together again.
No. I am untalented. He became completely untalented.
To hell with that talent, - said the guy. - You will be lucky with me.
What will they say at home?
That is indifferent. I brought them two fish yesterday. And now I'll be with you again, because I still have a lot to learn.
Bring some newspaper for the days when I was gone, - said the old man.
Get well soon, I still have a lot to learn, and you can teach me everything I need. Was it very hard for you?
Terribly hard, - said the old man.
Well, I'll go for food and newspapers, - the guy said. - Rest, grandfather. I'll buy some ointment for your hands at the pharmacy.
When the guy went out the door and moved down the beaten black-haired road, he began to cry again.
That day, a group of tourists visited the Terrace, and one guest, looking down at the sea, saw in the water near the shore, among empty beer cans and dead barracudas, an ancient white spine with a huge tail at the end, which swayed on the high waves of the surf , which were heard in the bay with a raging strong east wind of the ocean.
What it is? she asked the waiter and pointed to the long skeleton of a large fish, which was now its own garbage, and it was soon to be carried away by the outflow.
Tiburon, the waiter said. - One shark... - He wanted to explain what happened.
I didn't know that sharks have such beautiful, perfectly shaped tails.
I didn't know either," her companion said.
And upstairs, in his hut by the road, the old man slept again. He slept right downstairs, and a guy was sitting with him, guarding his sleep. The old man dreamed of lions.
We would like to bring to your attention summary story E. Hemingway « The Old Man and the Sea».
For 84 days, the old fisherman Santiago unsuccessfully goes out to sea to fish. And if for the first 40 days he fished with the little boy Manolin, then he was soon left without an assistant, as the boy's parents considered that luck had turned away from the old man and sent their son to the sea with a more successful fisherman. The old man was old, thin and emaciated, but his eyes were the color of the sea, were young and cheerful. The eyes of a man who never gives up.
It was hard for Manolin to meet Santiago every evening, who returned from the sea without a catch. But he loved and respected the old man very much, who taught him to fish. And so, every evening the boy helped the tired old fisherman carry the tackle home.
Before going to the old man's hut, Santiago and Manolin sat at a fisherman's cafe where Manolin bought the old man beer. At that time, all the fishermen of the village gathered in the cafe and discussed the catch. The boy volunteered to bring the old man bait for the next fishing trip. Santiago did not lose hope for a successful catch. He tells the boy that he plans to go out to sea tomorrow. The boy wants to go fishing with the old man, but Santiago assures him that he can handle everything himself, and Manolin should continue to fish on the "happy" boat. They carry the tackle home, but not because the old man is afraid that they will be stolen, but simply so that they do not become damp near the water.
The old man's hut, furnished with a bed, table and chair, was built from royal palm. The walls were decorated with oleographs. Previously, a color photograph of the old man's deceased wife hung on the wall, but Santiago took it off, because looking at her, he missed his wife very much.
Every evening the boy asked the old man about dinner and offered to make a fire in the hearth, he also asked for a net to catch sardines for bait. It was a kind of ritual. Manolin knew that the old man had no food and that the net had long since been sold. The boy goes out for sardines, and the old man stays to read yesterday's newspaper, which was given to him in the liquor store. The boy asks him to read about the baseball game and then retell it to him. When the boy returns, he sees Santiago sleeping on a chair. Manolin carefully covers the old fisherman with a blanket. Manolin notices that despite his thinness, Santiago has strong and powerful shoulders, and he also draws attention to the old shirt of the old man, all in multi-colored patches, like the old sail. The boy leaves again without waking the old man. Manolin returns with supper for the old man. Santiago eats beef stew, black beans with rice, and fried bananas that the boy picked up at a restaurant. Manolin tells the old man not to fish when hungry. Santiago promises that he will thank the owner of the restaurant, who often helps them out by giving him the best part of the fish he hopes to catch tomorrow. The old man and the boy discuss baseball and famous players. One of them even came to their fishing restaurant, but the boy and the old fisherman were too shy to invite him to fish with them and now regret it. The boy says goodbye to the old man and asks him to wake him up in the morning for fishing, as Manolin does not like being awakened by another fisherman, with whom he is now going to sea. The old man promises to pick him up in the morning.
Santiago, wrapped in a blanket, goes to sleep on a bed on which old newspapers are laid instead of a mattress, and instead of a pillow, he puts his pants under his head. The old man quickly falls asleep and he dreams of Africa, to the shores of which he went in his youth as a cabin boy. The old man no longer dreams of storms, great events, women, huge fish, he dreams of lions frolicking like kittens on the seashore.
The old man wakes up long before dawn, gets dressed and goes to wake the boy. After waking Manolin, they return to the old man's hut for tackle. They take them to the boat and have coffee at the diner, which opens very early because it serves fishermen. Manolin leaves for the bait, while Santiago drinks more coffee because he knows he won't eat anything else until the evening. The old man does not take food into the boat, only water. Manolin brings the bait and wishes the old man good luck. The old man takes the boat out of the harbor and in the darkness he hears other fishermen also go out to sea. Santiago decides to go far out to sea today and leans on the oars.
It's getting light. The old man rows steadily and thinks about the sea. He compares the sea to a woman. It also bestows great favors and does rash acts. It had not yet dawned, and the old man had already cast his baited hooks.
The sun has risen. The old man sees other boats, but they are much closer to the shore than his. After 2 hours, the old man's boat moved even further from the shore. A frigate bird helps Santiago track down fish schools, and he catches a tuna he plans to use for bait. The old man's boat has gone so far out to sea that the coastline is no longer visible. But the old man is not worried. Santiago is confident that he will always find his way home. All his thoughts are that today he will definitely be lucky, and he will catch a big fish.
Noon. It's getting very hot. Finally, Santiago caught a fish. The old man immediately realized that the fish was big and he would need all his experience to catch it. But he is firmly confident in his abilities. The old man decides that the fish is already dead and wants to pull it out, but he does not succeed. The fish turned out to be alive and pulled the fisherman's boat into the sea. The old man regrets that the boy is not with him now, he could use an assistant. For 4 hours, the fish is towing the old man's boat and does not think of dying. The old man is tired and thirsty, but he is afraid to miss the forest. He saves strength. He thinks about not letting his hands down.
It got colder at night and the old man's back was rubbed with a tow-line. He begins to get tired, as he holds the line with his hands, afraid to tie it to the boat. After all, if the fish jerks, it can break the line and go to the depths. But if you hold the string with your hands, when jerking, you can carefully bleed the rope, preventing it from stretching and breaking. The old man already understands that the fish he has caught on a hook is very large and strong. But Santiago also knows that he is stronger and more experienced than her, and is simply obliged to defeat her. He again regrets that Manolin is not with him. Santiago contemplates the fate of the fish he has caught, and his own fate too. The fact that now their fates are connected, that he was born a fisherman, and she is a fish.
At dawn, the fish pulled the line so hard that the old man, falling, cut his cheek until it bled. It's dawn. The fish also tirelessly pulls the boat. She is still full of energy, but she is already swimming at a shallower depth. The old man prays to the Lord that the fish will come up, and he will have the strength to cope with it. The fish makes another attempt to escape and cuts the old man's towline arm. He is angry with himself for letting the fish hurt him. Now he has to hold the line with his left hand. The old man notices that the fish is pulling the boat more slowly. He understands that soon he will need all his strength and decides to eat. But he only has raw tuna from food, which he eats after cutting it, regretting that he did not take salt and lemon with him. The old man's left arm was numb from the weight of the fish. The old man looks at the sea and realizes how lonely he is. He does not like to be helpless, so now all his thoughts are that the left hand would start working again. He notices that the fish is rising to the surface of the water. It was only now that the old man realized how huge it was. It was a swordfish, bigger than his boat. The fish pulled the boat again. The old man, who has seen a lot of fish in his lifetime, understands that this is the largest one he has ever caught. And now he has to fight her alone. The old man reads prayers to God and the Mother of God. In the afternoon, Santiago notices that the fish has changed direction.
The old man rested and kneaded his left hand. He thought about baseball. When the sun went down, the old man cheered up and remembered the incident in his life when he won the competition and received the title of Santiago Champion. Then he sat for a whole day, clasping his hands with a mighty negro, the strongest man in the port. When the audience began to insist that the judges declare a draw, he nevertheless overcame his opponent and won.
The old man manages to catch a mackerel for his dinner. He eats raw fish again. Santiago is very tired, his back and arms hurt. But the old fisherman reassures himself that his legs are in order, there is enough food and water for another day, and the fish swims more slowly.
The second night of his confrontation with the fish came. The old man admires the starry sky. He feels sorry for the fish he caught, but this pity does not deprive him of his determination to kill this fish. The old man manages to rest for a couple of hours. He wants to sleep, but is afraid to miss the fish. Then he decides to eat. After cutting the mackerel, he forced himself to eat half the fillet, while the old man remarks that the tuna was tastier. He realizes that he has to eat that nasty raw mackerel to get through the fish. The boat is moving slower and slower, and the old man realizes that the fish is also tired. While she keeps quiet, the old man decides to sleep.
He wakes up from a jerk, the forest, burning his palm, went into the water. Then the fish began to jump. The old man could hardly hold the line. Santiago again regrets that he does not have an assistant with him. The old man rejoices that the fish gained air during the jumps, and now it will not be able to go to the depth. Now the old man is waiting for her to start circling around the boat, trying to escape.
It's getting light. The old man's dissected towing arms hurt, but he reassures himself that pain is not terrible for a man. It was the 3rd morning of his fishing trip. The fish began to make circles around the boat, and the old man brought it closer for a decisive blow. Santiago forced the fish to roll over, then hit it right in the heart with a harpoon. The old man was very weak, and he was very ill. But, having overcome his dizziness and weakness, he pulled the prey to the boat and secured it along the side. The fish was so huge that one might think that a boat was attached to it. The old man set sail and headed for the shore.
He was hungry, but there was nothing to catch even a small fish. Then the old man shook shrimp from seaweed and refreshed himself with them. After drinking water, Santiago felt much better. He sailed home with a very rich catch and often looked at the fish, still not believing in his luck.
The first shark caught up with the boat, about an hour later. She smelled fish blood and followed the trail. It was a very large shark that was not afraid of anything. The old man, noticing her, prepared a harpoon. He realized that she would pounce on the fish and prepared to defend his catch. The shark managed to bite off a piece of meat from the fish before the old man killed it. The shark drowned, dragging the old man's harpoon to the bottom. Disfigured by a shark, the fish no longer pleased the old man. And he was waiting for other sharks. From a knife and an oar, he made a weapon against other sharks.
The sail was inflated by a fresh wind, and the boat quickly went to the shore. Hope returned to the old fisherman that he would still deliver his prey to the shore. The old man tasted his fish and realized that for such tasty and juicy meat, he could earn a lot of money. But the smell of fish was carried all over the sea, and the old man could not do anything about it. After 2 hours, 2 sharks arrived and began to tear the fish. The old man killed them too. The fish now did not attract the old man's eye at all. Sharks ate the best meat. Santiago was already regretting that he had caught her at all. Soon another shark sailed, killing which, Santiago broke the knife.
Evening came, and the shore was not even visible yet. Just before sunset, more sharks attacked the boat, they tore pieces of meat from the fish, and the old man unsuccessfully tried to kill them with a club. Having driven away the sharks, the old man noticed that they had already eaten half of the fish. Sharks began to circle around the boat. The sun was almost down, but Santiago decided not to give up and fight the sharks until he died. He sailed home in the dark and thought that it would be nice to buy luck somewhere. And he answered himself that he had nothing to buy it with. Only the pain in his arms let him know he wasn't dead yet.
Soon he noticed the city lights. His body ached and his hands hurt. He dreamed of home and sleep. But at midnight, the old man again fought with sharks, who attacked a whole flock. He beat in the dark with a club until it was torn from his hands. Then he pulled out the tiller and beat with it. But the sharks ate all the meat from the fish and swam away. The old man could hardly breathe and felt the taste of copper in his mouth. He spat into the water. The old man felt completely defeated. He swam home without thinking or feeling anything. The boat went quickly and easily, because it was no longer slowed down by the weight of the fish. The old man thought that the boat and sail were intact, and the tiller was not difficult to make a new one.
He returned home when everyone around was asleep. Furling the sail, he took the tackle and went home. He was so terribly tired that he stopped several times to rest. At home he drank some water and went to bed. He was still asleep when Manolin came in the morning. The boats did not go out to sea today because of the strong wind. The boy made sure that the old man was breathing and went to him for coffee. Down by the old man's boat, the fishermen were measuring the remains of the fish. The fish was 18 feet. The boy began to cry, he felt so sorry for the old man and his wounded hands. He brought Santiago coffee and waited for him to wake up.
Waking up, the old man drank coffee and complained to the boy that the sharks had defeated him. But Manolin told him that he had defeated the fish. He told the old fisherman that the fishermen, the coast guard, and even the plane were looking for him. But the old man said that he went very far out to sea. Santiago admitted that he missed the boy. And Manolin said that from now on he would only fish with the old man, who should teach him everything he knew. In the meantime, the old man needs to heal his hands, and Manolin went to the pharmacy to get some medicine. Santiago asked for more newspapers for the days he was gone. The old man fell asleep again, he had dreams, and the boy guarded his dream.
Takovo summary story " The Old Man and the Sea» E. Hemingway.
Year: 1952 Genre: story
1952 In Bimini, the last, lifetime published work of Hemingway is published. This is the story "The Old Man and the Sea". The named work tells about the life story of the old fisherman Santiago, about fishing in Cuba. The plot is tied around an important event for Santiago - a struggle on the high seas with a giant marlin, which is the largest and most important prey in the life of a fisherman.
The main idea of "The Old Man and the Sea" is that Ernest Hemingway shows the struggle of man with the elements of life. The main thing in life is overcoming difficulties. The author emphasizes the idea that under no circumstances should one give up. One involuntarily recalls the biblical wisdom: "Everyone is given such a cross as he can bear."
Read the summary of Hemingway The Old Man and the Sea
The reader on the first pages of the book meets an old man named Santiago. This is an experienced Cuban fisherman who is lonely. He lives by catching fish and selling the catch. He is lucky, his boat almost never comes back empty...
One day, a boy named Manolin goes out to sea with Santiago. This boy passionately loves the old man, even though he is not his own. With all his childish soul, he wants to help Santiago in some way. Manolin's parents do not share their son's feelings and believe that their child does not belong at sea. But the boy stubbornly sees off Santiago and waits for his return. After all, it is so important for every person to realize that they are waiting for him, that someone needs him.
Luck for some reason left the old fisherman. For the past 84 days, Santiago's networks have been empty. Every day he returns from the sea more and more sadly. Manolin does his best to help the old man: he helps to put fishing tackle in the boat, he catches sardines for bait, he waits for the return of the old fisherman on the shore. Every day the boy finds words of comfort for old Santiago. But that doesn't make it any easier...
The morning of the 85th day comes. Santiago, more than ever, is sure that there will certainly be a catch today. He calmly gets into the boat and, without a trace of excitement on his face, watches how the boat is carried by the waves. Old Santiago loves the sea, he talks to it in his mind. He turns to the water element with a request for a rich catch.
The fragile ship is rocked by the waves. And now comes an exciting moment for any fisherman - Santiago's fishing line is stretched like a string. Here - here it will burst! An experienced fisherman understands that there, in the depths, a fish of incredible gravity pulls. Santiago tries to pull the fish closer to the side of the boat in order to finish it off with a harpoon. He fails to make such a maneuver - the fish is strong and pulls the boat along with it. An old Cuban fisherman regrets that Manolin is not around at the moment. He would certainly help. How hard it is to be alone!
The climax of the work is a lengthy description of the struggle between Santiago and the fish. The fight lasts almost two days - this indicates the size and endurance of the fish. The fish resist. She drags an old Cuban fisherman's boat behind her. Old Santiago was exhausted. His hands were numb, and his thoughts were confused ... You might think that here it is - the end of hopes and dreams ...
But no matter how strong the fish is, its strength is running out. She is no longer so eager to pull Santiago's boat. It does this less and less. Finally, she is practically powerless. Then the fish floated to the surface of the sea not far from the boat, even turned on its side, as if it wanted to make it more convenient for Santiago to throw the harpoon. The old fisherman does just that. Here it is, the coveted prey! With the last of his strength, he ties the fish to the side of his boat. At the very last moment, the thought flashes through his inflamed mind that the fish is longer than his boat. How will they float?
Santiago is an experienced Cuban fisherman. To arrive at the shore, he is guided by the wind, or rather by its direction and strength, and directs the boat where it is needed. Santiago with prey swims to his native shore.
Everything seems to be fine, the old Cuban is satisfied with the result of his work. But ... at one point, Santiago sees that he is being overtaken by a huge shark. The shark hunts the prey of the fisherman. She doesn't need the old fisherman herself.
Santiago does his best to resist. He even plunges a harpoon into a shark. It seems like a short respite - the shark bites off a piece of prey and goes under the water with a harpoon. But here's the problem! After some time, a whole flock of sharks appears. Santiago is scared and at the same time sorry for the prey. The old fisherman shows skill - he ties a knife to an oar and kills one of the sharks. Of course, this is not enough at all ... While the fisherman is fighting with one, the rest eat his catch so much that only the tail and skeleton remain from him. So now poor Santiago is sailing on his boat, and the skeleton of his recent prey is dragging behind him ...
The day turns to evening and finally the night comes. Santiago, exhausted and tired, sails to his native shore. And Manolin is waiting for him there. An old Cuban fisherman shows a boy what is left of his prey. He is so hurt that he cries, not embarrassed by the child. Boy Manolin does his best to calm Santiago. He convinces the old fisherman that from now on they will always fish together and, of course, they will catch many, many more fish. After all, it's always good to be together. How wonderful it is to feel supported!
Morning of a new day. A huge crowd of tourists gathers on a deserted shore, who are amazed by the skeleton of an incredible fish that lies on the sand. They build different conclusions about who brought this skeleton here. Simple human curiosity...
Picture or drawing The old man and the sea
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Ernest Hemingway
"The Old Man and the Sea"
“The old man was fishing all alone in his boat in the Gulf Stream. For eighty-four days he had been sailing in the sea and had not caught a single fish. For the first forty days he had a boy with him. But day after day did not bring a catch, and the parents told the boy that the old man was now clearly salao, that is, the most unlucky one, and ordered to go to sea on another boat, which really brought three good fish in the first week. It was hard for the boy to watch how the old man returned every day with nothing, and he went ashore to help him carry tackle or a hook, a harpoon to a sail wrapped around the mast. The sail was covered with patches of burlap and, folded, resembled the banner of a completely defeated regiment.
This is the backstory of events that unfold in a small fishing village in Cuba. The protagonist, old Santiago, is “thin, emaciated, deep wrinkles cut through the back of his head, and his cheeks were covered with brown spots of harmless skin cancer, which is caused by the sun's rays reflected by the smooth surface of the tropical sea.” He taught the boy Manolin to fish. The boy loves the old man, wants to help him. He is ready to catch him a sardine as a bait for his tomorrow's sailing. They go up to the poor hut of Santiago, built from the leaves of the royal palm. In the hut there is a table, a chair, in the earthen floor there is a recess for cooking. The old man is lonely and poor: his meal is a bowl of yellow rice with fish. They talk to the boy about fishing, how lucky the old man is, the latest sports news, baseball scores, and famous players like DiMaggio. When the old man goes to bed, he dreams of the Africa of his youth, “its long golden coasts and shallows, high cliffs and huge white mountains. He no longer dreams of fights, women, or great events. But often distant lands and lions come ashore in his dreams.
The next day, early in the morning, the old man goes fishing. The boy helps him pull down the sail, prepare the boat. The old man says that this time he "believes in luck".
One by one, fishing boats leave the shore and go to sea. The old man loves the sea, he thinks of it with tenderness, as of a woman. Having put the bait on the hooks, it slowly floats with the flow. Mentally communicates with birds, with fish. Accustomed to loneliness, he talks aloud to himself. He knows the different inhabitants of the ocean, their habits, he has his own tender attitude towards them.
The old man is sensitive to what is happening in the depths. One of the rods trembled. The fishing line goes down, the old man feels a huge heaviness, which entails it. A dramatic many-hour duel between Santiago and a huge fish unfolds.
The old man tries to pull up the line, but it doesn't work. On the contrary, she pulls, as if in tow, the boat behind her. The old man regrets that the boy is not with him. But it's good that the fish pulls to the side, and not down to the bottom.
It takes about four hours. Noon approaches. This cannot go on forever, the old man thinks, soon the fish will die and then it will be possible to pull it up. But the fish is alive.
Night. The fish pulls the boat farther from the shore. The lights of Havana are fading in the distance. The old man is tired, he tightly grips the rope thrown over his shoulder. The thought of the fish never leaves him for a second. Sometimes he feels sorry for her. “Well, isn’t this fish a miracle, God alone knows how many years it has lived in the world. I have never seen such a strong fish before. And just think how weird she's acting. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t jump, because she’s very smart.” Mentally talking to the fish. "I won't leave you until I die."
The fish begins to pull not so powerfully, it has clearly weakened. But the old man's strength is running out. His hand is numb. Finally, the forest began to go up, and fish are shown on the surface. She burns in the sun, her head and back are dark purple, and instead of a nose she has a sword as long as a baseball bat. It is two feet longer than the boat. Having appeared on the surface, she begins to go into the depths again, pulling the boat behind her, and the old man has to mobilize all his strength to prevent her from breaking loose. Not believing in God, he reads "Our Father". “Though it is unfair, but I will prove to her what a person is capable of and what he can endure.”
Another day passes. To distract himself, the old man reminisces about baseball games. He remembers how once in a Casablanca tavern he measured his strength with a mighty black man, the strongest man in the port, how they sat at the table for a whole day, not lowering their hands, and how he eventually prevailed. He participated in such fights more than once, won, but then gave up this business, deciding that he needed his right hand for fishing.
The battle with the fish continues. He holds the forest with his right hand, knowing that when the strength runs out, it will be replaced by the left. The fish comes to the surface, then approaches the boat, then moves away from it. The old man is preparing a harpoon to finish off the fish. But she steps aside. From fatigue, thoughts are confused in the head of the old man. “Listen, fish,” he tells her. “Because you don’t care to die. Why do you want me to die too.”
The last act of the duel. “He gathered all his pain, and all the rest of his strength, and all his long-lost pride, and threw it all against the torment that the fish endured, and then it turned over and quietly swam on its side ...”. Raising the harpoon, he thrusts it with all his might into the side of the fish. Feels how the iron enters her flesh, and pushes it deeper and deeper ...
He is overcome by nausea and weakness, his head is foggy, but he still pulls the fish to the side. Tie the fish to the boat and start moving towards the shore. Mentally calculates: the fish weighs at least fifteen hundred pounds, which can be sold for thirty cents a pound. "I think that the great DiMaggio could be proud of me today." The direction of the wind tells him which way to swim to get home.
An hour passes before the first shark shows up. Smelling the smell of blood, she rushes after the boat and the fish tied to it. She approached the stern, dug into the fish, began to tear it apart. The old man hit her with a harpoon. She sinks to the bottom, taking with her a harpoon, part of the rope and a huge piece of fish. “Man is not made to fail. Man can be destroyed, but not defeated.
Served with a piece of fish. Notices the fins of a whole flock of sharks. They are approaching at great speed. The old man meets them by raising an oar with a knife tied to it. Sharks pounce on fish. The old man joins them in battle. One of the sharks is killed. Finally the sharks left. They had nothing to eat.
When he entered the bay, everyone was asleep. As he unmasted and lashed the sail, he felt tired. Behind the stern of his boat rose a huge fish tail. All that was left of her was a skeleton.
On the shore, the boy meets a tired, crying old man. He reassures Santiago, assures that from now on they will fish together, because he still has a lot to learn. He believes that he will bring good luck to the old man.
The next morning rich tourists come to the shore. They are surprised to notice a long white spine with a huge tail. The waiter tries to explain to them, but they are very far from understanding the drama that happened here.
Events unfold in a small fishing village in Cuba. The protagonist of the work, Santiago, was not a handsome man. He traded in fishing, which he taught the boy, Manolin. The old man went to sea for many days, but did not catch a single fish. He was in despair. It was hard for Manolin to watch Santiago return from fishing with nothing, he was sincerely sorry for the old man. The boy fell in love with Santiago, and wanted to catch him sardines for bait for the next day. After that, they go to lonely Santiago's hut and go to bed.
The next day the old man goes fishing. Along the way, a huge fish clings to the hook. He struggles with it for a long time, noting that the fish leads to the side, and not to the bottom.
Several hours passed. It's already noon, and the fish still won't give up. She pulls the old man further from the shore. Santiago rejoices. He had never come across such a strong and big fish. It is already night, and the boat is drifting farther and farther from the shore. Suddenly, an exhausted fish appeared on the surface. Her sword is as big as a baseball bat. Gaining strength, she again goes to the bottom. The old man fights to the last, mobilizing his forces.
Thus another day passed. The old man begins to remember his youth. He has already been in fights. Once he had to defeat the strongest negro in the port. There were others, but he gave up this occupation, deciding that the hand would be useful for fishing.
The fish fight continues. Santiago no longer feels his strength. The fish rises to the surface. She approaches, then retreats. The final moment comes, and the old man thrusts a harpoon into the side of the fish.
He ties the fish to the board and calculates how much money he will get for the fish. He is overcome by nausea and weakness, but Santiago rows to the shore.
It doesn't take long before the first shark appears. She smelled blood. Others follow after her. The first shark was fat to bite the fish. Santiago hits her with a harpoon. The harpoon is stuck in it, and the shark goes to the bottom.
While he was eating a piece of fish, he noticed more sharks. They were approaching at great speed. He tied the knife to the oar and began to fight back. Finally, the sharks retreated. They had nothing to eat. When he sailed home, the village was already asleep. He looked astern and saw one fish skeleton.
On the shore, Manolin meets him. He reassures Santiago, saying that from now on he will go to sea with him all the time. He thinks he will bring the old man good luck.
Rich tourists came ashore in the morning. They saw the skeleton of a large fish and are trying to figure out what it is. They are very surprised. A waiter in a small cafe trying to explain to them what happened last night. But they do not understand the tragedy that has happened.