[instrumental music]
[music continues]
[male narrator] He was an old man who fished alone
in a skiff in the Gulf Stream
and he had gone 84 days now without taking a fish.
In the first 40 days, a boy had been with him.
But after 40 days without a fish
the boy's parents had told him
that the old man was now definitely
and finally salao
which is the worst form of unlucky
and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat
which caught three good fish the first week.
The old man had taught the boy to fish
and the boy loved him.
The old man was gray and wrinkled
with deep furrows in the back of his neck
and his hands had the deep, creased scars
from handling heavy fish on the cords.
But none of these scars were fresh.
They were as old as erosions
in a fishless desert.
Everything about him was old except his eyes.
And they were the same color as the sea
and were cheerful and undefeated.
[instrumental music]
It made the boy sad to see the old man
come in each day with his skiff empty.
He always went down to help him carry
th-the coil lines of the gaff and harpoon
and the sail that was furled around the mast.
The sail was patched with flour sacks and furled.
It looked like the flag of permanent defeat.
[instrumental music]
[music continues]
No one would steal from the old man
but it was better to take the sail
and the heavy lines home
as the dew was bad for them.
And though he was quite sure no local people would steal
from the old man, thought that a gaff and a harpoon
were needless temptations to leave in a boat.
The successful fishermen of that day were already in
and had butchered their marlin out
carried them laid full-length
across two planks to the fish house
where they waited for the ice truck
to carry them to the market in Havana.
[instrumental music]
[chicken clucking]
"Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace?" the boy asked.
"Why not?" the old man said. "Between fishermen."
Two beers, Martin, please.
[male narrator] They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen
made fun of the old man.
But he was not angry.
He did not remember when he had attained humility
but he knew he had attained it
and he knew it was not disgraceful
and it carried no true loss of pride.
Some of the older fishermen looked at him
and were sad, but they did not show it.
They spoke politely about the currents
and the depths they had drifted their lines at
and the steady good weather
and of what they had seen.
- Santiago. - Yes?
Can I go out and get the sardines for you tomorrow?
Oh, no, no, no. You play ball.
I can still row
and I can still throw the net.
I know where I can get four fresh baits.
I still have mine from today.
Let me get four fresh ones.
- One. - Two.
Two.
You didn't steal them, did you?
I wouldn't, but I bought these.
Thank you.
If I cannot fish with you
I'd like to serve in some way.
You bought me a beer.
You are already a man.
[instrumental music]
[rooster crows]
[male narrator] They walked up the road together.
The old man stood the mast outside his shack.
In the old man's shack, there was a bed, a table
some chairs, and a place to cook with charcoal.
On the brown walls, there was a picture in color
of the Sacred Heart of Jesus..
...and another of the Virgin of Cobre.
These were relics of his wife.
Once, there had been a tinted photograph
of his wife on the wall.
But he had taken it down because it made him
too lonely to see it.
And it was on the shelf in the corner
under his clean shirt.
[sighs]
Ah!
Tomorrow is the 85th day.
Eighty-five is a lucky number.
How would you like to see me bring one in
that dressed out over a thousand pounds?
Are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?
I think so.
And there are many tricks.
Santiago..
...I could go with you again.
We've made enough money.
No, no.
You are in a lucky boat. You stay with them.
[Manolin] 'Remember how long we went without fish before?'
Mmm.
Then we caught big ones
every day for three weeks.
Mmm, I remember.
I know you did not leave me
because you lost confidence.
It was my papa made me leave.
I am a boy and I must obey him.
Of course, of course. It is quite normal.
- He hasn't much faith. - 'No.'
- But we have, haven't we? - Yes.
If you were my boy, I would take you out again.
But you are your father's and your mother's
and you are in a lucky boat.
What do you have to eat?
Oh, I have a pot of yellow rice and some fish.
Would you like some?
No. I'll eat at home.
May I take the cast net?
Of course.
I have yesterday's newspaper.
I will read the baseball.
[male narrator] There was no cast net.
The boy remembered when they had sold it.
But they went through this fiction every day.
There was no pot of yellow rice and fish
and the boy knew this.
He didn't know whether yesterday's paper
was a fiction too.
But the old man had brought it out from under the bed.
Keep warm, old man.
'Sit in the sun. Remember, we're in September.'
The month of the big fish.
Anybody can be a fisherman in May.
I'll be back when I get the sardines.
Then, you can tell me about the baseball.
[instrumental music]
[indistinct chatter]
- Hey, Manolin, come on. - Play first base.
Hey, yeah. Come on.
[music continues]
Manolin.
A dinner for two, please.
To take out.
You don't eat at home anymore?
- How much do you have to spend? - Sixty cents.
No luck yet, huh?
You know, maybe it's not luck at all.
Maybe he's too old.
He's not too old. You'll see.
- I said, "Maybe." - Not even "Maybe."
Alright.
I only hope when I'm an old man
I have a boy to fish for me.
[male narrator] When the boy came back, the old man was asleep
in a chair and the sun was going down.
His shoulders were still powerful
although very old.
And the neck was still strong too.
The creases did not show so much
when the old man was asleep.
His head was very old though.
And with his eyes closed, there was no life in his face.
Wake up, old man.
[male narrator] The old man opened his eyes, and for a long moment
he was coming back from a long way away.
Then he smiled.
What have you got?
- We're gonna have supper. - I'm not very hungry.
Come on and eat. You can't fish and not eat.
I have.
You won't fish without eating
while I'm alive.
Well, then you live a long time
and take good care of yourself.
Who, who gave this to you?
- Martin at the Terrace. - Oh.
Well.
I must be sure and thank him.
I thanked him already.
You don't need to thank him.
[male narrator] They had eaten with no light on the table
and it was dark now.
The old man had talked to the boy
about the baseball as they always did.
About the great DiMaggio and how he was himself again
and about the other men on the team.
Tell me about the great John J. McGraw.
Mmm, he used to come
to the Terrace sometimes
in the olden days too.
His mind was on the horses, I think
as much as it was on the baseball.
At least, he used to carry lists of horses
in his pocket at all times.
And frequently, he would speak
the names of horses on the telephone.
He was a great manager.
My father thinks he was the greatest.
That's because he came here the most times.
If Durocher had continued coming here
your father would think
he was the greatest manager.
Who is the greatest manager, really?
I think they are all equal.
Sometime, I would like to take
the great DiMaggio fishing.
They say his father was a fisherman.
Maybe he was poor like we are
and he would understand.
You ought to go to bed so that you'll be fresh
in the morning.
I'll take these things back to the Terrace.
Oh, goodnight.
- See you in the morning. - You're my alarm clock.
Age is my alarm clock.
- Sleep well, old man. - Thank you.
Goodnight.
[male narrator] The boy went out and the old man thought
"Why do old men wake so early?
Is it to have one longer day?"
[instrumental music]
Then, the old man rolled up his trousers to make a pillow
putting the newspaper inside them.
He rolled himself in the blanket
and slept on the other old newspapers
that covered the springs of the bed.
He was asleep in a short time
and he dreamed of Africa, when he was a boy.
[instrumental music]
He dreamed of the long golden beaches
and the white beaches so white they hurt your eyes.
And the high capes and the great brown mountains.
He lived along that coast now every night.
And in his dreams he heard the surf roar
and saw the native boats come riding through it.
He smelled the tar and oakum of the deck as he slept
and he smelled the smell of Africa
that the land breeze brought in the morning.
Usually when he smelled the land breeze, he woke up
and dressed to go to wake the boy.
But tonight, the smell of the land breeze
came very early, and he knew it was too early
in his dream and went on dreaming
to see the white peaks of the island rising to the sea
and then he dreamed of the different harbors
and roadsteads of the Canary Islands.
He no longer dreamed of storms nor of women
nor of great occurrences nor of great fish
nor fights nor contests of strength
nor of his wife.
He only dreamed of places now
and of the lions on the beach.
They played like young cats
and he loved them as he loved the boy.
He never dreamed about the boy.
[growling]
[music continues]
In the dawn, the old man simply woke
looked out the open door at the dying moon
unrolled his trousers and put them on..
...then went down the road to wake the boy.
He was shivering with the morning cold
but he knew that he would shiver himself warm
and that soon, he would be rowing.
The door of the house where the boy lived
was unlocked and he opened it
and walked in quietly with his bare feet.
The boy was asleep on a cot in the first room
and the old man could see him clearly.
He took hold of one foot gently
and held it until the boy woke
and turned and looked at him.
[instrumental music]
[indistinct singing]
The boy was sleepy
and the old man said, "I'm sorry."
"It is what a man must do," the boy answered.
They walked down the road, and all along the road
in the dark, barefoot men were moving
carrying the masts of their boats.
[singing continues]
How did you sleep?
Very well, Manolin. I feel confident today.
I do too.
I'll get the sardines.
Be right back.
Have another cup. We have credit here.
[indistinct chatter]
[male narrator] The old man drank his coffee slowly.
It was all he would have all day
and he knew that he should take it.
For a long time now, eating had bored him
and he never carried a lunch.
He had a bottle of water at the bow of the skiff
and that was all he needed for the day.
[indistinct singing]
[singing continues]
Good luck, old man.
Good luck.
[male narrator] There were other boats from the other beaches
going out to sea, and the old man heard
the dip and push of their oars.
[singing continues]
[boat creaking]
[instrumental music]
In the dark, the old man could feel the morning coming.
And as he rode, he heard the trembling sound
as flying fish left the water
and the hissing that their stiff set wings
made as they soared away in the darkness.
He was very fond of flying fish as they were
his principal friends in the ocean.
[music continues]
He was sorry for the birds, especially the small
delicate, dark terns that were always flying and looking
and almost never finding.
[music continues]
And he thought, "The birds have a harder life than we do
"except for the robber birds and the heavy, strong ones.
"Why did they make birds so delicate and fine
"when the ocean can be so cruel?
"She is kind and very beautiful..
...but she can be so cruel."
[music continues]
The sun rose thinly from the sea
and the old man could see the other boats
low on the water and well in toward the shore
spread out across the current.
He always thought of the sea as"La mar"
which is what people call her in Spanish
when they love her.
Sometimes, those who love her say bad things of her..
...but they are always said as though she were a woman.
Some of the younger fishermen spoke of her
as a contestant or a place
or even an enemy..
...but the old man had always thought of her as feminine
and as something that gave or withheld great favors.
[blowing air]
"The moon affects her as it does a woman," he thought.
[instrumental music]
Before it was really light, he had his baits out
and was drifting with the current.
One bait was down 40 fathoms, the second was at 75
and the third and the fourth were down in the blue water
at 100 and 125 fathoms.
Then, the sun was brighter and the glare
came on the water, and then, as it rose clear
the flat sea sent it back
to his eyes so that it hurt sharply
and he rode without looking into it.
He looked down into the water and watched the lines
that went straight down into the dark of the water.
Each bait hung head-down with the shank of the hook
inside the bait reached tight and sewed solid.
And all of the projecting part of the hook, the curve
and the point was covered with fresh sardines.
Each sardine was hooked through both eyes
so that they made a half garland
of the projecting steel.
There was no part of the hook
that a great fish could feel
that was not sweet-smelling
and good-tasting.
"I keep them with precision," he thought.
"Only, I have no luck anymore.
"But who knows? Maybe today.
"Every day is a new day.
"It is better to be lucky, but I would rather be exact.
Then when luck comes, you are ready."
[instrumental music]
The sun was two hours higher now
and it did not hurt his eyes so much
to look into the east.
Just then, he saw a man-o'-war bird.
He made a quick drop, slanting down
on his backswept wings
and then circled again.
He's not just looking. He's found something.
[dramatic music]
[birds screeching]
Bonito.
You will make a beautiful bait.
[male narrator] He did not remember when he had first started
to talk aloud when he was by himself.
In the old days, he had sung at night sometimes
when he was alone staring at his watch on the turtle boats.
He had probably started to talk aloud when alone
when the boy had left..
...but he did not remember.
It was considered a virtue
not to talk unnecessarily at sea
and the old man had always considered it so
and respected it.
But now, he said his thoughts
aloud many, many times
since there was no one that they could annoy.
"If the others heard me," he thought
"they would think I am crazy.
"But since I am not crazy, I do not care.
"And the rich have radios to talk to them on their boats
to bring them the baseball."
[fishing line scratching]
Yes. Yes.
[instrumental music]
[male narrator] 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.
This far out, he must be huge in this month.
Eat them, fish. Eat them.
Please eat them.
How fresh they are
and you down deep in that cold water in the dark.
Come on, now.
Make another turn.
Then eat them. Just smell the sardines.
Then there is the tuna
cold and hard and lovely.
Come on, fish. Eat them.
Don't be shy.
He'll take it.
God help him to take it.
He can't have gone.
God knows he can't have gone.
He must be making another turn.
Perhaps he has been hooked before
and he remembers part of it.
[fishing line scratching]
He was just turning. He's going to take it.
What a fish!
Now he has it sideways in his mouth..
...and he's going away with it.
[male narrator] As it went down, slipping lightly
through the old man's fingers
he could still feel the great weight
though the pressure of his thumb and finger
were almost imperceptible.
He's taken it.
Now let him eat it.
Eat it good, now, fish.
Go on, eat it.
Eat it until the point of the hook
goes into your heart and kills you.
Then come up nice and easy
and let me put the harpoon into you.
[dramatic music]
Now, are you ready?
Have you been long enough at table?
[male narrator] Now the fish was struck
and the old man could feel that he was hooked.
Now he should run with the line or jump
or sound to the depths below
but nothing happened.
The fish just moved away slowly
and the old man could not raise him an inch.
His line was strong and made for heavy fish
and he held it until it was so taut
that beads of water were jumping from it.
Then the boat began to move
slowly off toward the northwest.
The old man leaned back against the pull.
The fish moved steadily
and they traveled slowly on the calm water.
The other baits were still in the water
but there was nothing to be done.
[instrumental music]
This will kill him.
He can't keep this up forever.
But four hours later
the fish was still swimming
steadily out to sea, towing the skiff
and the old man was still braced solidly.
"What a fish to pull like that!"
he thought.
"He must have his mouth shut tight on the wire.
"I wish I could see him only once
to know what I have against me."
There was no land in sight now.
"That makes no difference," he thought.
"I can always come in on the glare
off the lights from Havana."
It was noon when I hooked him
and I have not yet seen him.
I wish the boy was here.
[dramatic music]
[sighs]
I'm being towed by a fish
and I am the towing bitt.
[male narrator] "What I will do if he decides to go down, I don't know.
"What I'll do if he sounds and dives, I don't know.
"But I'll do something.
"There are plenty of things I can do.
I could make the line fast," he thought
"but then he could break it.
"I must hold him all I can
"and then give him line when he must have it.
Thank God, he is traveling and not going down."
It was cold after the sun went down
and the old man's sweat dried cold on his back
and his arms and his old legs.
"He didn't come up when the sun set," he thought.
"Maybe he will come up with the moon.
"If he does not do that, maybe he will
"come up with the sunrise.
"I wish I could see him.
"I wish I could see him only once
to know what I have against me."
Two porpoises came around the boat
and he could hear them rolling and blowing.
And he could tell the difference between
the blowing noise of the male mate
and the sighing blow of the female.
"They're good," he thought.
"They play and make jokes and love one another.
They are our brothers, like the flying fish."
Then he began to pity the great fish he had hooked.
"He is wonderful and strange," he thought.
"And who knows how old he is."
Never have I had such a strong fish
or one that acted so strangely.
Maybe he's too wise to jump.
He could ruin me with a jump.
Or one quick rush.
Maybe he has been hooked many times before
and he knows this is how he must make his fight.
He took the bait like a male.
He moves like a male.
There is no panic in his fight.
I wonder if he has a plan
or if, if he's just as desperate as I am.
I wish the boy was here.
[instrumental music]
[male narrator] The fish never changed his course
nor his direction all that night
as far as the old man could tell
from watching the stars.
He felt the strength of the great fish
through the line moving steadily
toward whatever he had chosen
and he thought "When once through my treachery
"it had been necessary for him to make a choice.
"His choice had been to stay in the deep water
"far out beyond all snares
"and traps and treacheries.
"My choice was to go there
"and find him beyond all people.
"Beyond all people in the world.
"Now, we are joined together
"and have been since noon.
And no one to help either one of us."
[instrumental music]
[music continues]
"I have lost 200 fathoms of good line
and hooks and leaders," he thought.
"That can be replaced.
"But who replaces this fish
"if I hook some fish and it cuts him off?
"I don't know what the fish was
"that took the bait just now.
"Could have been a marlin or a broadbill or a shark.
"I never felt him.
I had to get rid of him too fast."
[instrumental music]
[fishing line scratching]
"I wonder what he made
that lurch for," he thought.
"The wire must have slipped
"on the great hill of his back.
"Certainly his back cannot feel as badly as mine does
"and he cannot pull this skiff forever
no matter how strong he is."
[instrumental music]
"Please, God, let him jump.
"Maybe if I can increase the tension a little more
"it will hurt him, and he will jump.
"Let him jump, so that he will
"fill the sacs along his backbone with air
and then, he cannot go deep to die."
Fish, I love you
and I respect you very much..
...but I will kill you before this day ends.
[male narrator] A small bird came toward the skiff from the north.
He was a warbler and flying very low
over the water.
And the old man could see
that he was very tired.
Hey.
How old are you?
Is this your first trip?
Why are you so tired?
What are birds coming to anyway?
[male narrator] "The hawks," he thought
"that come out to sea to meet them."
But he said nothing of this to the bird
who could not understand him anyway
and who'd learn about the hawks soon enough.
It is alright, small bird.
You rest for a minute.
But then, you must go in and you must take
your chances like every man
and every fish and every bird must do.
I wish I could hoist my sail and take you in
with the small breeze that's rising
but I'm with a friend.
[fishing line scratching]
[dramatic music]
Something hurt him.
You're feeling it now, fish.
And so, God knows, am I.
[music continues]
[male narrator] "How did I let the fish cut me
with one pull he made?" the old man thought.
"I must be getting very stupid.
"I better pay attention to my work.
"And then I must eat the bonito
"so I will not have a failure of strength.
"I wish the boy was here to cut up the bonito
"and I wish I had some salt.
I don't think I can eat an entire one."
[instrumental music]
[fishing line scratching]
What kind of a hand is that?
Go on. Cramp if you want to.
Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good.
[music continues]
I must eat the bonito..
...not to lose my strength.
Do not blame the hand. It is not the hand's fault.
And you have been a long time with the fish.
[music continues]
[sighs]
How do you feel, hand?
Or is it too early to know?
Maybe it will open with the sun.
If I have to open it
I will open it.
Cost whatever it cost.
[male narrator] "God help me to have the cramp go," he thought
"because I don't know what the fish is going to do.
"But he seems calm and following his plan
"but what is his plan?
"What is mine?
"Mine, I must improvise to his
"because of his great size.
If he will jump," he thought
"I can kill him."
Hand. Come on, hand.
He's coming up. H-hand.
[dramatic music]
He's longer than the skiff.
[water splashes]
Oh, he's a great fish.
[music continues]
Thank God they are not as intelligent
as we who kill them.
Although, they are more noble.
And more able.
[music continues]
I wonder why he jumped.
It's almost as though he jumped
just to show me how big he was.
Bad news for you, fish.
[music continues]
[male narrator] It was getting late in the day now
and the skiff still moved slowly and steadily.
[rain splattering]
The old man was suffering
although he did not admit
to suffering at all.
I am not religious..
...but I will say ten Our Fathers
and ten Hail Marys that I may catch this fish.
I will also make a pilgrimage
to the Virgin of Cobre.
That is a promise.
"Our Father, who art in heaven
hallowed be thy name.."
[male narrator] He commenced to say his prayers mechanically.
Sometimes, he would be so tired
that he could not remember the prayer.
And then he would say them so fast
that they would come automatically.
"Hail Marys are easier to say
than Our Fathers," he thought.
The old man felt very tired
and he knew that the night would come soon
and he tried to think of other things.
He thought of the big leagues.
To him, they were the Gran Ligas.
And he knew that the Yankees of New York
were playing the Tigers of Detroit.
"This is the second day now that I do not know
the results of the games," he thought.
Then, to give himself more confidence..
...he remembered the time in the tavern at Casablanca..
...when he played the hand game
with a Negro from Cienfuegos
who was the strongest man on the docks.
He was not an old man then
but he was in his prime.
He and the Negro had gone one day and one night
with their elbows on a chalked line on the table.
[upbeat music]
[glass clinks]
[intense music]
[chuckles]
[all clamoring]
There was much betting, and the odds changed
back and forth all night.
And they changed the referees every four hours
so that the referee could get some sleep.
They fed the Negro rum.
Once, after the rum, the Negro made his all-out bid.
[all clamoring]
[dramatic music]
But the old man raised his hand
up to dead even again.
He was sure that he had the Negro
who was a fine man and a great athlete, beaten.
[music continues]
[indistinct chatter]
Finally, at daylight, when the bettors
were asking him to call it a draw
because they had to go to work on the docks..
...the old man unleashed his greatest effort.
He knew that he had broken the confidence of the Negro.
And now, he finished the bout
before anyone had to go to work.
[all cheering]
[upbeat music]
For a long time after that
everyone had called him "The champion."
How do you feel, fish?
I feel fine.
My left hand is better.
Pull the boat, fish.
[mellow music]
Just before it was dark, as they passed
the great island of Sargasso weed
that heaved and swung on the light sea
as though the ocean were making love
with something under a yellow blanket
his small line had been taken by a dolphin.
And he had brought it into the skiff.
What an excellent fish dolphin is..
...to eat cooked.
And what a miserable fish raw.
[music continues]
[male narrator] "I had better keep the fish quiet now
"and not disturb him too much at sunset.
The setting of the sun is a difficult time for all fish."
[instrumental music]
It was darker now, as it becomes dark
quickly after the sun sets in September.
The first stars were out.
He did not know the name of Rigel, but he saw it..
...and knew soon they would be out
and he would have all his distant friends.
"The fish is my friend too," he thought.
Never have I seen or heard of such a fish.
But I must kill him.
I'm glad I do not have to kill the stars.
[instrumental music]
Imagine how it would be if every day
a man had to try to kill the moon.
The moon runs away.
But think what it would be if every day
he had to try to kill the sun.
We're born lucky.
[music continues]
[male narrator] "It was half a day and a night
"and now another day, and you have not slept.
"If you do not sleep, you might become
unclear in the head."
Rest now, old man.
Let him do the work..
...until it is time..
...for your next duty.
[male narrator] He lay forward, cramping himself
against the line with his body
putting all his weight on his left hand
and he was asleep.
He did not dream of the lions
but instead, of a vast school of porpoises
that stretched for eight or ten miles.
And it was in the time of their mating.
And they would leap high into the air
and return in the same hole they'd made
in the water when they leaped.
Then, he dreamed he was in the village, on his bed.
And there was a norther, and he was very cold.
And his arm was asleep because his head
had rested on it instead of a pillow.
After that, he began to dream of the long yellow beach
and he saw the first of the lions.
And he waited to see if there would be
more lions, and he was happy.
[instrumental music]
Then, he dreamed of the whales that passed
along this coast in the fall.
And of their mating too
and of their friendliness with each other
and of their play.
[music continues]
The moon had been up for a long time
but he slept on.
And the fish pulled on steadily
and the boat moved into a tunnel of clouds.
He woke with a jerk of his fist coming up
and the line burning out through his hand.
[creaking]
[dramatic music]
[fish calling]
This is what we waited for.
[breathing heavily] Now, let us take it.
Make him pay for the line.
Make him pay for it.
[music continues]
"I will show him what a man can do
and what a man endures," he thought.
The thousand times he had proved it meant nothing.
Now, he was proving it again.
Each time was a new time.
And he never thought about the past
when he was doing it.
"If the boy were here, he could wet
the coils of the line," he thought.
"Yes, if the boy were here
if the boy were here."
[dramatic music]
[squeaking]
[music continues]
[male narrator] "Now, he has jumped and filled the sacs
"along his back with air.
"Now, he cannot go down deep to die.
"He will start circling soon
then I must start working on him."
Well, you didn't do so badly..
'...for something that is worthless.'
[music continues]
Now, I have done my best.
He will begin to circle soon.
Let the fight come.
[male narrator] The sun was rising for the third time
since he had put out to sea.
The fish was circling slowly
and the old man was wet with sweat
and tired deep into his bones.
[music continues]
[breathing heavily]
I could not fail myself..
...now and die on a fish like this.
Now that I have him coming so beautifully
God help me to endure.
I will say one hundred Our Fathers
and one hundred Hail Marys.
But I cannot say them now.
Please consider them said.
[music continues]
[whispers] I will say them later.
[male narrator] For an hour, he had been seeing spots before his eyes.
Twice, he had felt faint and dizzy..
...and that had worried him.
Then suddenly, he saw a dark shadow..
...that took so long to pass the boat
that he couldn't believe its length.
He can't be that big.
[dramatic music]
[male narrator] But he was that big.
He felt faint again.
"I moved him," he thought.
"Maybe this time, I can get him over."
Pull, hands.
Hold on, legs.
[music continues]
[male narrator] "I must get him alongside this time"
the old man thought.
Next time, I'll pull him over.
[grunts]
[male narrator] He tried it once more
and he felt himself going when he turned the fish.
"I will try it again," the old man promised
and he could only see well in flashes.
[music continues]
Fish, you're going to die, anyway.
Do you have to kill me too?
[male narrator] He took all his pain and what was left
of his strength and his long-gone pride..
...and he put it against the fish's agony.
"I must get him close, close, close," he thought.
"I mustn't try for the head
I must get the heart."
[music continues]
Now, I have killed this fish, who was my brother.
Now, I must do the slave work.
Get to work, old man.
[instrumental music]
The old man did not need a compass
to tell him where southwest was.
He only needed the feel of the trade wind
and the drawing of the sail, he could see the fish.
And he had only to look at his hands
and feel his back against the stern
to know that this had truly happened
and was not a dream.
"The hands cure quickly," he thought.
"I've bled them clean.
"The salt water will heal them.
"The dark water of the gulf is the greatest healer
that there is."
Then, his head started to become unclear
and he asked himself
"Is he bringing me in, or am I bringing him in?"
They were sailing together, lashed side by side.
And the old man thought
"Let me bring him in, if it pleases him.
"I am only better than him through trickery
and he meant me no harm."
They sailed well, and the old man
soaked his hands in the salt water
and tried to keep his head clear.
He looked at the fish constantly
to make sure it was true.
It was an hour before the first shark hit him.
[intense music]
He was a very big mako shark
built to swim as fast as the fastest fish of the sea.
Now, he speeded up as he smelled the fresher scent
and his blue dorsal fin cut the water.
When the old man saw him coming, he knew
that this was a shark that had no fear at all
and would do exactly what he pleased.
[dramatic music]
It's too good to be true.
Might just as well have been a dream.
Mako!
[music continues]
[creaking]
[music continues]
Now, my fish bleeds again.
And there will be others.
It was too good to be true.
[male narrator] The old man did not look at the fish anymore
since it had been mutilated.
When the fish had been hit..
...it was as if he himself had been hit.
"But I killed the shark that hit my fish," he thought.
"He was the biggestdentuso I have ever seen.
It was too good to last."
He knew that each of the jerking bumps
of the shark had been meat torn away.
And that the fish now made a trail of blood
for all sharks as wide as a highway
through the sea.
He knew quite well the pattern of what could happen
when he reached the inner part of the current.
But there was nothing to be done now.
"Yes, there is," he thought.
"I can lash my knife to the butt of one of the oars.
I should've brought a stone for the knife," he thought.
"You should've brought many things
"but you did not bring them.
"Now is no time to think
"of what you do not have.
"Think of what you can do
"with what you have.
You give me good counsel," he thought
"I'm tired of it."
[groans]
I am still an old man, but I will not be unarmed.
[skiff creaks]
[intense music]
[groans]
Ay, galanos!
[music continues]
Come on, galanos!
Come on. Come on, galanos!
Come on. Come on. Come on.
[music continues]
[sighs] I went out too far, fish.
No good for you, nor for me.
I'm sorry, fish.
[mellow music]
I still have almost half of him left.
Maybe I will have the luck to bring
that much of him in.
I should have some luck.
No.
No, you violated your luck
when you went too far out.
[music continues]
Don't be silly.
Stay awake and steer.
You still may have some luck.
I would like to buy some..
...if there is a place where they sell it.
What would I buy it with?
A lost harpoon? A broken knife?
Two bad hands?
You might.
You tried to buy it with 84 days..
...at sea.
They almost sold it to you too.
Must not think such nonsense.
Luck is a thing that comes in many forms.
Who can recognize her?
I wish I could see the lights of Havana.
I wish for too many things.
But that is what I wish now.
[male narrator] He saw the reflected glare of the light of the city
at what must have been around 10 o'clock at night.
He was stiff and sore now.
And his wounds and all of the strained parts
of his body hurt.
He could not talk to the fish anymore
because the fish had been ruined too badly.
Then, something came into his head.
Half fish.
Fish that you were.
I am sorry I went out too far.
Ruined us both.
But we have killed many sharks, you and I.
And ruined many more.
How many have you ever killed, old fish?
You do not have that spear for nothing.
[instrumental music]
"What will you do now if they come in the night?" he thought.
What will I do if they come in the night?
I'll fight them.
I'll fight them until I die.
[male narrator] "Oh, but I hope I do not have to fight again," he thought.
"I hope so much I do not have to fight again."
[music continues]
But he fought again, and this time
he knew the fight was useless.
Come on.
Come on!
[dramatic music]
Come on.
Come on, galanos!
Come on!
Come on, galanos!
[groaning]
[male narrator] He knew he was beaten now
finally, and without remedy.
I'm sorry, fish.
[instrumental music]
[male narrator] He could feel he was inside the current now.
And he could see the lights of the beach colonies
along the shore.
He knew where he was now
and it was nothing to get home.
"The wind is our friend anyway," he thought.
Then he added, "Sometimes.
"And the great sea with our friends
"and our enemies...and bed.
"Bed is my friend, just bed.
Bed will be a great thing."
It is easy when you are beaten.
What beat you?
Nothing. I just went out too far.
Man is not made for defeat.
Man can be destroyed
but not defeated.
[male narrator] It was quiet in the harbor, and he sailed up
onto the little patch of shingle below the rocks.
There was no one to help him.
He un-stepped the mast
furled the sail..
...and he shouldered the mast, and started to climb.
It was then...he knew
the depth of his tiredness.
[music continues]
[groans]
[cat meows]
[music continues]
He had to sit down five times
before he reached the shack.
[birds chirping]
In the morning, it was blowing so hard
that the drifting boats would not be going out.
And the boy had slept late
and then had come to the old man's shack
as he had come each morning
while the old man was gone.
The old man was asleep
and the boy saw that he was breathing.
[music continues]
And then, he saw the old man's hands
and he started to cry.
[instrumental music]
He went out quietly to bring some coffee
and all the way down the road, he was crying.
Many fishermen were around the skiff
looking at what was beside it.
And one was in the water, his trousers rolled up
measuring the skeleton with the length of line
and preparing to take off the head and the bill.
The boy did not go down.
He had been there before.
[instrumental music]
Martin.
A can of coffee with plenty of milk
and sugar in it.
What a fish that was.
There has never been such a fish.
Oh, those were two fine fish you took yesterday.
Never mind about my fish.
Does he want a drink of any kind?
No. If he does, I'll be back.
You tell him how sorry I am.
Thanks.
I'll get the coffee.
[instrumental music]
[music continues]
[coughs]
They beat me, Manolin.
They truly beat me.
He didn't beat you, not the fish.
Did you suffer much?
Now, we'll fish together again.
No, no.
I am not lucky anymore.
The hell with luck. I'll bring the luck with me.
What will your father say?
I don't care what he says.
We'll..
We will have to get a killing lance
and keep it onboard at all times.
It must be very sharp..
...and not tempered so it will break
like my knife broke.
I'll get another knife.
How many days of heavy wind have we?
Oh, maybe three.
Maybe more.
I'll have everything in order.
You get your hands well, old man.
They will be alright in a couple of days.
I know how to care for them.
During the night, I spat up something strange.
I felt like something in my chest was broken.
Get that well too.
Drink your coffee.
I'll get you something to eat.
And, and bring me the papers
from the time I was away.
I will.
[instrumental music]
[upbeat music]
[singing in foreign language]
[male narrator] That afternoon, there was a party of tourists
from Havana at a cafe.
One of them looked down at the water, and among
the empty beer cans and dead barracuda
she saw the long backbone of the great fish
that was now just garbage
waiting to go out with the tide.
"What's that?" she asked the waiter.
"Tiburon," the waiter said. "A shark."
He was trying to explain what had happened
to the marlin.
"I didn't know sharks had such handsome
beautifully formed tails," the woman said.
"I didn't either," her male companion answered.
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.
[instrumental music]
[music continues]
[singing in foreign language]
[music continues]