The fish is my friend too,old man says,

My legs are all right. Also now I have gained on him in the question of sustenance.
It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September. He lay
against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could. The first stars [74] were
out. He did not know the name of Rigel but he saw it and knew soon they would all be out
and he would have all his distant friends.
“The fish is my friend too,” he said aloud. “I have never seen or heard of such a fish.
But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars.”
Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs
away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born
lucky, he thought.
Then he was sorry for the great fish that had nothing to eat and his determination to
kill him never relaxed in his sorrow for him. How many people will he feed, he thought.
But are they worthy to eat him? No, of course not. There is no one worthy of eating him
from the manner of his behaviour and his great dignity.
I do not understand these things, he thought. But it is good that we do not have to
try to kill the sun or the moon or the stars. It is enough to live on the sea and kill our true
brothers.
Now, he thought, I must think about the drag. It has its perils and its merits. I may
lose so much line that I will lose him, if he makes his effort and the drag [75] made by the
oars is in place and the boat loses all her lightness. Her lightness prolongs both our
suffering but it is my safety since he has great speed that he has never yet employed. No
matter what passes I must gut the dolphin so he does not spoil and eat some of him to be
strong.
Now I will rest an hour more and feel that he is solid and steady before I move back
to the stern to do the work and make the decision. In the meantime I can see how he acts
and if he shows any changes. The oars are a good trick; but it has reached the time to play
for safety. He is much fish still and I saw that the hook was in the corner of his mouth
and he has kept his mouth tight shut. The punishment of the hook is nothing. The
punishment of hunger, and that he is against something that he does not comprehend, is
everything. Rest now, old man, and let him work until your next duty comes.
He rested for what he believed to be two hours. The moon did not rise now until late
and he had no way of judging the time. Nor was he really resting except comparatively.
He was still bearing the pull of the fish across his shoulders but he placed his left hand on
the [76] gunwale of the bow and confided more and more of the resistance to the fish to
the skiff itself.
How simple it would be if I could make the line fast, he thought. But with one small
lurch he could break it. I must cushion the pull of the line with my body and at all times
be ready to give line with both hands.
“But you have not slept yet, old man,” he said aloud. “It is half a day and a night and
now another day and you have not slept. You must devise a way so that you sleep a little if
he is quiet and steady. If you do not sleep you might become unclear in the head.”
I’m clear enough in the head, he thought. Too clear. I am as clear as the stars that are
my brothers. Still I must sleep. They sleep and the moon and the sun sleep and even the
ocean sleeps sometimes on certain days when there is no current and a flat calm.
But remember to sleep, he thought. Make yourself do it and devise some simple and
sure way about the lines. Now go back and prepare the dolphin. It is too dangerous to rig
the oars as a drag if you must sleep.
I could go without sleeping, he told himself. But it would be too dangerous.
[77] He started to work his way back to the stern on his hands and knees, being
careful not to jerk against the fish. He may be half asleep himself, he thought. But I do
not want him to rest. He must pull until he dies.
Back in the stern he turned so that his left hand held the strain of the line across his
shoulders and drew his knife from its sheath with his right hand. The stars were bright
now and he saw the dolphin clearly and he pushed the blade of his knife into his head
and drew him out from under the stern. He put one of his feet on the fish and slit him
quickly from the vent up to the tip of his lower jaw. Then he put his knife down and
gutted him with his right hand, scooping him clean and pulling the gills clear.
He felt the maw heavy and slippery in his hands and he slit it open. There were two
flying fish inside. They were fresh and hard and he laid them side by side and dropped
the guts and the gills over the stern. They sank leaving a trail of phosphorescence in the
water. The dolphin was cold and a leprous gray-white now in the starlight and the old
man skinned one side of him while he held his right foot on the fish’s head. Then he
turned him over and skinned the other side and cut each side off from the head down to
the tail.
[78] He slid the carcass overboard and looked to see if there was any swirl in the
water. But there was only the light of its slow descent. He turned then and placed the two
flying fish inside the two fillets of fish and putting his knife back in its sheath, he worked
his way slowly back to the bow. His back was bent with the weight of the line across it and
he carried the fish in his right hand.
Back in the bow he laid the two fillets of fish out on the wood with the flying fish
beside them. After that he settled the line across his shoulders in a new place and held it
again with his left hand resting on the gunwale. Then he leaned over the side and washed
the flying fish in the water, noting the speed of the water against his hand. His hand was
phosphorescent from skinning the fish and he watched the flow of the water against it.
The flow was less strong and as he rubbed the side of his hand against the planking of the
skiff, particles of phosphorus floated off and drifted slowly astern.
“He is tiring or he is resting,” the old man said. “Now let me get through the eating of
this dolphin and get some rest and a little sleep.”
Under the stars and with the night colder all the [79] time he ate half of one of the
dolphin fillets and one of the flying fish, gutted and with its head cut off.