Just then,watching his lines,he saw one of the projecting green sticks dip sharply.
“Yes,”he said.“Yes,”and shipped his oars without bumping the boat.He reached out for the line and held it softly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He felt no strain nor weight and he held the line lightly.Then it came again.This time it was a tentative pull,not solid nor heavy,and he knew exactly what it was.One hundred fathoms down a marlin was eating the sardines that covered the point and the shank of the hook where the hand-forged hook projected from the head of the small tuna.
The old man held the line delicately,and softly,with his left hand,unleashed it from the stick.Now he could let it run through his fingers without the fish feeling any tension .
This far out,he must be huge in this month,he thought.Eat them,fish.Eat them.Please eat them.How fresh they are and you down there six hundred feet in that cold water in the dark.Make another turn in the dark and come back and eat them.
He felt the light delicate pulling and then a harder pull when a sardine's head must have been more difficult to break from the hook .Then there was nothing.
“Come on,”the old man said aloud.“Make another turn.Just smell them.Aren't they lovely?Eat them good now and then there is the tuna.Hard and cold and lovely.Don't be shy,fish.Eat them.”
He waited with the line between his thumb and his finger,watching it and the other lines at the same time for the fish might have swum up or down.Then came the same delicate pulling touch again.
“He'll take it,”the old man said aloud.“God help him to take it.”
He did not take it though.He was gone and the old man felt nothing.
“He can't have gone,”he said.“Christ knows he can't have gone.He's making a turn.Maybe he has been hooked before and he remembers something of it.”
Then he felt the gentle touch on the line and he was happy.
“It was only his turn,”he said.“ He'll take it.”
He was happy feeling the gentle pulling and then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy.It was the weight of the fish and he let the line slip down,down,down,unrolling off the first of the two reserve coils.As it went down,slipping lightly through the old man's fingers,he still could feel the great weight,though the pressure of his thumb and finger were almost imperceptible .
“What a fish,”he said.“ He has it sideways in his mouth now and he is moving off with it.”
Then he will turn and swallow it,he thought.He did not say that because he knew that if you said a good thing it might not happen.He knew what a huge fish this was and he thought of him moving away in the darkness with the tuna held crosswise in his mouth. At that moment he felt him stop moving but the weight was still there.Then the weight increased and he gave more line.He tightened the pressure of his thumb and finger for a moment and the weight increased and was going straight down.
“He's taken it,”he said.“ Now I'll let him eat it well.”
He let the line slip through his fingers while he reached down with his left hand and made fast the free end of the two reserve coils to the loop of the two reserve coils of the next line.Now he was ready.He had three forty-fathom coils of line in reserve now,as well as the coil he was using.
“Eat it a little more,”he said.“ Eat it well.”
Eat it so that the point of the hook goes into your heart and kills you,he thought,Come up easy and let me put the harpoon into you.All right.Are you ready?Have you been long enough at table?
“Now!”He said aloud and struck hard with both hands,gained a yard of line and then struck again and again, swinging with each arm alternately on the cord with all the strength of his arms and the pivoted weight of his body.
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