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第8章 The Sharks Attack（第2页）

Besides，hethought，everythingkillseverythingelseinsomeway.Fishingkillsmeexactlyasitkeepsmealive.Theboykeepsmealive，hethought.Imustnotdeceivemyselftoomuch.

Heleanedoverthesideandpulledlooseapieceofthemeatofthefishwherethesharkhadcuthim.Hecheweditandnoteditsqualityanditsgoodtaste.Itwasfirmandjuicy，likemeat，butitwasnotred.Therewasnospringinessinitandheknewthatitwouldbringthehighestpriceinthemarket.Buttherewasnowaytokeepitsscentoutofthewaterandtheoldmanknewthataverybadtimewascoming.

Thebreezewassteady.Ithadbackedalittlefurtherintothenortheastandheknewthatmeantthatitwouldnotfalloff.Theoldmanlookedaheadofhimbuthecouldseenosailsnorcouldheseethehullnorthesmokeofanyship.Therewereonlytheflyingfishthatwentupfromhisbowsailingawaytoeithersideandtheyellowpatchesofgulf-weed.Hecouldnotevenseeabird.

Hehadailedfortwohours，restinginthesternandsometimeschewingabitofthemeatfromthemarlin，tryingtorestandtobestrong，whenhesawthefirstofthetwosharks.

“Ay，”

hesaidaloud.Thereisnotranslationforthiswordandperhapsitisjustanoisesuchasamanmightmake，involuntarily，feelingthenailgothroughhishandsandintothewood.

“Galanos.”

hesaidaloud.Hehadseenthesecondfinnowcomingupbehindthefirstandhadidentifiedthemasshovel-nosedsharksbythebrown，triangularfinandthesweepingmovementsofthetail.Theyhadthescentandwereexcitedandinthestupidityoftheirgreathungertheywerelosingandfindingthescentintheirexcitement.Buttheywereclosingallthetime.

Theoldmanmadethesheetfastandjammedthetiller.Thenhetookuptheoarwiththeknifelashedtoit.Helifteditaslightlyashecouldbecausehishandsrebelledatthepain.Thenheopenedandclosedthemonitlightlytoloosenthem.Heclosedthemfirmlysotheywouldtakethepainnowandwouldnotflinchandwatchedthesharkscome.Hecouldseetheirwide，flattened，shovel-pointedheadsnowandtheirwhite-tippedwidepectoralfins.Theywerehatefulsharks，badsmelling，scavengersaswellaskillers，andwhentheywerehungrytheywouldbiteatanoarortherudderofaboat.Itwasthesesharksthatwouldcuttheturtleslegsandflippersoffwhentheturtleswereasleeponthesurface，andtheywouldhitamaninthewater，iftheywerehungry，evenifthemanhadnosmelloffishbloodnoroffishslimeonhim.

“Ay，”

theoldmansaid.“Galanos.ComeonGalanos.”

Theycame.ButtheydidnotcomeastheMakohadcome.Oneturnedandwentoutofsightundertheskiffandtheoldmancouldfeeltheskiffshakeashejerkedandpulledonthefish.Theotherwatchedtheoldmanwithhisslittedyelloweyesandthencameinfastwithhishalfcircleofjawswidetohitthefishwherehehadalreadybeenbitten.Thelineshowedclearlyonthetopofhisbrownheadandbackwherethebrainjoinedthespinalcordandtheoldmandrovetheknifeontheoarintothejuncture，withdrewit，anddroveitinagainintothesharksyellowcat-likeeyes.Thesharkletgoofthefishandsliddown，swallowingwhathehadtakenashedied.

Theskiffwasstillshakingwiththedestructiontheothersharkwasdoingtothefishandtheoldmanletgothesheetsothattheskiffwouldswingbroadsideandbringthesharkoutfromunder.Whenhesawthesharkheleanedoverthesideandpunchedathim.Hehitonlymeatandthehidewassethardandhebarelygottheknifein.Theblowhurtnotonlyhishandsbuthisshouldertoo.Butthesharkcameupfastandhisheadoutandtheoldmanhithimsquarelyinthecenterofhisflat-toppedheadashisnosecameoutofwaterandlayagainstthefish.Theoldmanwithdrewthebladeandpunchedthesharkexactlyinthesamespotagain.Hestillhungtothefishwithhisjawshookedandtheoldmanstabbedhiminhislefteye.Thesharkstillhungthere.

“No?”

theoldmansaidandhedrovethebladebetweenthevertebraeandthebrain.Itwasaneasyshotnowandhefeltthecartilagesever.Theoldmanreversedtheoarandputthebladebetweenthesharksjawstoopenthem.Hetwistedthebladeandasthesharkslidloosehesaid，“Goon，galano.Slidedownamiledeep.Goseeyourfriend，ormaybeitsyourmother.”

Theoldmanwipedthebladeofhisknifeandlaiddowntheoar.Thenhefoundthesheetandthesailfilledandhebroughttheskiffontohercourse.

“Theymusthavetakenaquarterofhimandofthebestmeat，”

hesaidaloud.“IwishitwereadreamandthatIhadneverhookedhim.Imsorryaboutit，fish.Itmakeseverythingwrong.”

Hestoppedandhedidnotwanttolookatthefishnow.Drainedofbloodandawashhelookedthecolorofthesilverbackingofamirrorandhisstripesstillshowed.

“Ishouldnthavegoneoutsofar，fish，”

hesaid.“Neitherforyounorforme.Imsorry，fish.”

Now，hesaidtohimself.Looktothelashingontheknifeandseeifithasbeencut.Thengetyourhandinorderbecausetherestillismoretocome.

“IwishIhadastonefortheknife，”

theoldmansaidafterhehadcheckedthelashingontheoarbutt.“Ishouldhavebroughtastone.”

Youshouldhavebroughtmanythings，hethought.Butyoudidnotbringthem，oldman.Nowisnotimetothinkofwhatyoudonothave.Thinkofwhatyoucandowithwhatthereis.

“Yougivememuchgoodcounsel，”

hesaidaloud.“Imtiredofit.”

Heheldthetillerunderhisarmandsoakedbothhishandsinthewaterastheskiffdroveforward.

“Godknowshowmuchthatlastonetook，”

hesaid.“Butshesmuchlighternow.”

Hedidnotwanttothinkofthemutilatedunder-sideofthefish.Heknewthateachofthejerkingbumpsofthesharkhadbeenmeattornawayandthatthefishnowmadeatrailforallsharksaswideasahighwaythroughthesea.

Hewasafishtokeepamanallwinter，hethought.Dontthinkofthat.Justrestandtrytogetyourhandsinshapetodefendwhatisleftofhim.Thebloodsmellfrommyhandsmeansnothingnowwithallthatscentinthewater.Besidestheydonotbleedmuch.Thereisnothingcutthatmeansanything.Thebleedingmaykeeptheleftfromcramping.

WhatcanIthinkofnow?Hethought.Nothing.Imustthinkofnothingandwaitforthenextones.Iwishithadreallybeenadream，hethought.Butwhoknows?Itmighthaveturnedoutwell.

Thenextsharkthatcamewasasingleshovel-nose.Hecamelikeapigtothetroughifapighadamouthsowidethatyoucouldputyourheadinit.Theoldmanlethimhitthefishandthendrovetheknifeontheoardownintohisbrain.Butthesharkjerkedbackwardsasherolledandtheknifebladesnapped.

Theoldmansettledhimselftosteer.Hedidnotevenwatchthebigsharksinkingslowlyinthewater，showingfirstlife-size，thensmall，thentiny.Thatalwaysfascinatedtheoldman.Buthedidnotevenwatchitnow.

“Ihavethegaffnow，”

hesaid.“Butitwilldonogood.Ihavethetwooarsandthetillerandtheshortclub.”

Nowtheyhavebeatenme，hethought.Iamtoooldtoclubsharkstodeath.ButIwilltryitaslongasIhavetheoarsandtheshortclubandthetiller.