“The hell with luck,”the boy said.“I'll bring the luck with me.”
“How is he?”one of the fishermen shouted.
Finally the old man woke.
The boy carried the hot can of coffee up to the old man's shack and sat by him until he woke.Once it looked as though he were waking.But he had gone back into heavy sleep and the boy had gone across the road to borrow some wood to heat the coffee.
“The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see,”the old man said.He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea.“I missed you,”he said.“What did you catch?”
“Tiburon,”the waiter said,“Eshark.”He was meaning to explain what had happened.
“Let Pedrico chop it up to use in fish traps.”
Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again.He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him.The old man was dreaming about the lions.
“I'll get another knife and have the spring ground.How many days of heavy brisa have we?”
“Nothing,”he said aloud.“ I went out too far.”
“No.I will remember.”
“What a fish it was,”the proprietor said.“There has never been such a fish.Those were two fine fish you took yesterday too.”
“Now we fish together again.”
“You must get well fast for there is much that I can learn and you can teach me everything.How much did you suffer?”