He picked up a piece and put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly.It was not unpleasant.
He looked at the sky and saw the white cumulus built like friendly piles of ice cream and high above were the thin feathers of the cirrus against the high September sky.
He looked across the sea and knew how alone he was now.But he could see the prisms in the deep dark water and the line stretching ahead and the strange undulation of the calm.The clouds were building up now for the trade wind and he looked ahead and saw a flight of wild ducks etching themselves against the sky over the water,then blurring,then etching again and he knew no man was ever alone on the sea.
With his prayers said, and feeling much better, but suffering exactly as much,and perhaps a little more,he leaned against the wood of the bow and began,mechanically,to work the fingers of his left hand.
He took another full piece and chewed it.
“Be patient,hand,”he said“, I do this for you.”
But he seems calm,he thought,and following his plan. But what is his plan,he thought.And what is mine?Mine I must improvise to his because of his great size.If he will jump I can kill him.But he stays down forever.Then I will stay down with him forever.
“Now,”he said,when his hand had dried,“I must eat the small tuna.I can reach him with the gaff and eat him here in comfort.”