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.
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.
“There will be bad weather in three or four days,”he said.“But not tonight and not tomorrow.Rig now to get some sleep,old man,while the fish is calm and steady.”
He kneeled against the bow and,for a moment,slipped the line over his back again.I'll rest now while he goes out on the circle and then stand up and work on him when he comes in,he decided.
“You did not do so badly for something worthless,”he said to his left hand.“But there was a moment when I could not find you.”
I'll try it again, the old man promised, although his hands were mushy now and he could only see well in flashes.
He saw him first as a dark shadow that took so long to pass under the boat that he could not believe its length.
Why was I not born with two good hands?He thought.Perhaps it was my fault in not training that one properly.But God knows he has had enough chances to learn.He did not do so badly in the night,though,and he has only cramped once.If he cramps again let the line cut him off.