It was a great temptation to rest in the bow and let the fish make one circle by himself without recovering any line. But when the strain showed the fish had turned to come toward the boat,the old man rose to his feet and started the pivoting and the weaving pulling that brought in all the line he gained.
Then he dreamed that he was in the village on his bed and there was a norther and he was very cold and his right arm was asleep because his head had rested on it instead of a pillow.
The moon had been up for a long time but he slept on and the fish pulled on steadily and the boat moved into the tunnel of clouds.
“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.”
If the boy was here he would wet the coils of line,he thought.Yes.If the boy were here.If the boy were here.
“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.”
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.