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申请企业认证证书 申报企业荣誉资质 办理企业荣誉奖项
企业荣誉证书怎么办理 哪里办理中国著名品牌 荣誉证书办理条件
I'm tireder than I have ever been, he thought, and now the trade wind is rising.
But that will be good to take him in with. I need that badly.
"I'll rest on the next turn as he goes out," he said. "I feel much better. Then in two
or three turns more I will have him. "
His straw hat was far on the back of his head and he sank down into the bow with
the pull of the line as he felt the fish turn.
You work now, fish, he thought. I'll take you at the turn.
The sea had risen considerably. But it was a fair-weather breeze and he had to
have it to get home.
"I'll just steer south and west,." he said. "A man is never lost at sea and it is a long
It was on the third turn that he saw the fish first.
He saw him first as a dark shadow that took so long to pass under the boat that he
could not believe its length.
"No," he said. "He can't be that big. "
But he was that big and at the end of this circle he came to the surface only thirty
yards away and the man saw his tail out of water. It was higher than a big scythe
blade and a very pale lavender above the dark blue water. It raked back and as the fish
swam just below the surface the old man could see his huge bulk and the purple
stripes that banded him. His dorsal fin was down and his huge pectorals were spread
On this circle the old man could see the fish's eye and the two gray sucking fish
that swam around him. Sometimes they attached themselves to him. Sometimes they
darted off. Sometimes they would swim easily in his shadow. They were each over
three feet long and when they swam fast they lashed their whole bodies like eels.
The old man was sweating now but from something else besides the sun. On each
calm placid turn the fish made he was gaining line and he was sure that in two turns
more he would have a chance to get the harpoon in.
But I must get him close, close, close, he thought. I mustn't try for the head. I
must get the heart.
"Be calm and strong, old man," he said.
On the next circle the fish's back was out but he was a little too far from the boat.
On the next circle he was still too far away but he was higher out of water and the old
man was sure that by gaining some more line he could have him alongside.
He had rigged his harpoon long before and its coil of light rope was in a round
basket and the end was made fast to the bitt in the bow.
The fish was coming in on his circle now calm and beautiful looking and only his
great tail moving. The old man pulled on him all that he could to bring him closer. For
just a moment the fish turned a little on his side. Then he straightened himself and
began another circle.
"I moved him," the old man said. "I moved him then. "
He felt faint again now but he held on the great fish all the strain that he could. I
moved him, he thought. Maybe this time I can get him over. Pull, hands, he thought.
Hold up, legs. Last for me, head. Last for me. You never went. This time I'll pull him
But when he put all of his effort on, starting it well out before the fish came
alongside and pulling with all his strength, the fish pulled part way over and then
righted himself and swam away.
"Fish," the old man said. "Fish, you are going to have to die anyway. Do you
have to kill me too?"
That way nothing is accomplished, he thought. His mouth was too dry to speak
but he could not reach for the water now. I must get him alongside this time, he
thought. I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are, he told himself. You're
good for ever.
On the next turn, he nearly had him. But again the fish righted himself and swam
You are killing me fish, the old man thought. But you have a right to. Never have
I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you, brother.
Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who.
Now you are getting confused in the head, he thought. You must keep your head
clear. Keep your head clear and know how to suffer like a man. Or a fish, he thought.
"Clear up, head," he said in a voice he could hardly hear. "Clear up. "
Twice more it was the same on the turns.
I do not know, the old man thought. He had been on the point of feeling himself
go each time. I do not know. But I will try it once more.
He tried it once more and he felt himself going when he turned the fish. The fish
righted himself and swam off again slowly with the great tail weaving in the air.
I'll try it again, the old man promised, although his hands were mushy now and he
could only see well in flashes.
He tried it again and it was the same. So, he thought, and he felt himself going
before he started; I will try it once again.
He took all his pain and what was left of his strength and his long gone pride and
he put it against the fish's agony and the fish came over onto his side and swam gently
on his side, his bill almost touching the planking of the skiff and started to pass the
boat, long, deep, wide, silver and barred with purple and interminable in the water.
The old man dropped the line and put his foot on it and lifted the harpoon as high
as he could and drove it down with all his strength, and more strength he had just
summoned, into the fish's side just behind the great chest fin that rose high in the air
to the altitude of the man's chest. He felt the iron go in and he leaned on it and drove it
further and then pushed all his weight after it.
Then the fish came alive, with his death in him, and rose high out of the water
showing all his great length and width and all his power and his beauty. He seemed to
hang in the air above the old man in the skiff. Then he fell into the water with a crash
that sent spray over the old man and over all of the skiff.
The old man felt faint and sick and he could not see well. But he cleared the
harpoon line and let it run slowly through his raw hands and, when he could see, he
saw the fish was on his back with his silver belly up. The shaft of the harpoon was
projecting at an angle from the fish's shoulder and the sea was discoloring with the red
of the blood from his heart. First it was dark as a shoal in the blue water that was more
than a mile deep. Then it spread like a cloud. The fish was silver and still and floated
with the waves.
The old man looked carefully in the glimpse of vision that he had. Then he took
two turns of the harpoon line around the bitt in the bow and laid his head on his
"Keep my head clear," he said against the wood of the bow. "I am a tired old man.
But I have killed this fish which is my brother and now I must do the slave work. "
Now I must prepare the nooses and the rope to lash him alongside, he thought.
Even if we were two and swamped her to load him and bailed her out, this skiff would
never hold him. I must prepare everything, then bring him in and lash him well and
step the mast and set sail for home.
He started to pull the fish in to have him alongside so that he could pass a line
through his gills and out his mouth and make his head fast alongside the bow. I want
to see him, he thought, and to touch and to feel him. He is my fortune, he thought. But
that is not why I wish to feel him. I think I felt his heart, he thought. When I pushed
on the harpoon shaft the second time. Bring him in now and make him fast and get the
noose around his tail and another around his middle to bind him to the skiff.
"Get to work, old man," he said. He took a very small drink of the water. "There
is very much slave work to be done now that the fight is over. "
He looked up at the sky and then out to his fish. He looked at the sun carefully.
It is not much more than noon, he thought. And the trade wind is rising. The lines all
mean nothing now. The boy and I will splice them when we are home.
"Come on, fish," he said. But the fish did not come. Instead he lay there
wallowing now in the seas and the old man pulled the skiff up onto him.
When he was even with him and had the fish's head against the bow he could not
believe his size. But he untied the harpoon rope from the bitt, passed it through the
fish's gills and out his jaws, made a turn around his sword then passed the rope
through the other gill, made another turn around the bill and knotted the double
rope and made it fast to the bitt in the bow. He cut the rope then and went astern to
noose the tail. The fish had turned silver from his original purple and silver, and
the stripes showed the same pale violet color as his tail. They were wider than a
man's hand with his fingers spread and the fish's eye looked as detached as the
mirrors in a periscope or as a saint in a procession.
"It was the only way to kill him," the old man said. He was feeling better since
the water and he knew he would not go away and his head was clear. He's over
fifteen hundred pounds the way he is, he thought. Maybe much more. If he dresses
out two-thirds of that at thirty cents a pound?
"I need a pencil for that," he said. "My head is not that clear. But I think the
great DiMaggio would be proud of me today. I had no bone spurs. But the hands
and the back hurt truly. " I wonder what a bone spur is, he thought. Maybe we
have them without knowing of it.
He made the fish fast to bow and stern and to the middle thwart. He was so
big it was like lashing a much bigger skiff alongside. He cut a piece of line and
tied the fish's lower jaw against his bill so his mouth would not open and they
would sail as cleanly as possible. Then he stepped the mast and, with the stick that
was his gaff and with his boom rigged, the patched sail drew, the boat began to
move, and half lying in the stern he sailed southwest.(boom: a long spar run out to extend the
foot of a sail.)
He did not need a compass to tell him where southwest was. He only needed
the feel of the trade wind and the drawing of the sail. I better put a small line out
with a spoon on it and try and get something to eat and drink for the moisture. But
he could not find a spoon and his sardines were rotten. So he hooked a patch of
yellow gulf weed with the gaff as they passed and shook it so that the small
shrimps that were in it fell onto the planking of the skiff. There were more than a
dozen of them and they jumped and kicked like sand fleas. The old man pinched
their heads off with his thumb and forefinger and ate them chewing up the shells
and the tails. They were very tiny but he knew they were nourishing and they
The old man still had two drinks of water in the bottle and he used half of one
after he had eaten the shrimps. The skiff was sailing well considering the
handicaps and he steered with the tiller under his arm. He could see the fish and he
had only to look at his hands and feel his back against the stern to know that this had
truly happened and was not a dream. At one time when he was feeling so badly
toward the end, he had thought perhaps it was a dream. Then when he had seen the
fish come out of the water and hang motionless in the sky before he fell, he was sure
there was some great strangeness and he could not believe it. Then he could not see
well, although now he saw as well as ever.(tiller: a bar or lever attached to the head of the rudder, to
turn the rudder in steering.)
Now he knew there was the fish and his hands and back were no dream. The
hands cure quickly, he thought. I bled them clean and the salt water will heal them.
The dark water of the true gulf is the greatest healer that there is. All I must do is keep
the head clear. The hands have done their work and we sail well. With his mouth shut
and his tail straight up and down we sail like brothers. Then his head started to
become a little unclear and he thought, is he bringing me in or am I bringing him in?
If I were towing him behind there would be no question. Nor if the fish were in the
skiff, with all dignity gone, there would be no question either. But they were sailing
together lashed side by side and the old man thought, let him bring me in if it pleases
him. I am only better than him through trickery and he meant me no harm.(The old man’s
questioning of himself occurs in the paragraph beginning “Now he knew…”)
They sailed well and the old man soaked his hands in the salt water and tried to
keep his head clear. There were high cumulus clouds and enough cirrus above them
so that the old man knew the breeze would last all night. The old man looked at the
fish constantly to make sure it was true. It was an hour before the first shark hit him.
The shark was not an accident. He had come up from deep down in the water as
the dark cloud of blood had settled and dispersed in the mile deep sea. He had come
up so fast and absolutely without caution that he broke the surface of the blue water
and was in the sun. Then he fell back into the sea and picked up the scent and started
swimming on the course the skiff and the fish had taken.
Sometimes he lost the scent. But he would pick it up again, or have just a trace of
it and he swam fast and hard on the course. He was a very big Mako shark built to
swim as fast as the fastest fish in the sea and everything about him was beautiful
except his jaws. His back was as blue as a sword fish's and his belly was silver and his
hide was smooth and handsome. He was built as a sword fish except for his huge jaws
which were tight shut now as he swam fast, just under the surface with his high dorsal
fin knifing through the water without wavering. Inside the closed double lip of his
jaws all of his eight rows of teeth were slanted inwards. They were not the ordinary
pyramid-shaped teeth of most sharks. They were shaped like a man's fingers when
they are crisped like claws. They were nearly as long as the fingers of the old man and
they had razor-sharp cutting edges on both sides. This was a fish built to feed on all
the fishes in the sea, that were so fast and strong and well armed that they had no
other enemy. Now he speeded up as he smelled the fresher scent and his blue dorsal
fin cut the water.
When the old man saw him coming he knew that this was a shark that had no fear
at all and would do exactly what he wished. He prepared the harpoon and made the
rope fast while he watched the shark come on. The rope was short as it lacked what he
had cut away to lash the fish.
The old man's head was clear and good now and he was full of resolution but he
had little hope. It was too good to last, he thought. He took one look at the great fish
as he watched the shark close in. It might as well have been a dream, he thought. I
cannot keep him from hitting me but maybe I can get him. Dentuso, he thought. Bad
luck to your mother.(Dentuso: a term that the old man applies to the Mako shark, referring perhaps to she
The shark closed fast astern and when he hit the fish the old man saw his mouth
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