“Perico gave it to me at the bodega,”he explained.
“The month when the great fish come,”the old man said.“ Anyone can be a fisherman in May.”
“He is almost blind.”
They picked up the gear from the boat.The old man carried the mast on his shoulder and the boy carried the wooden box with the coiled,hard-braided brown lines,the gaff and the harpoon with its shaft.The box with the baits was under the stern of the skiff along with the club that was used to subdue the big fish when they were brought alongside.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 him,the old man thought that a gaff and a harpoon were needless temptations to leave in a boat.
“Eighty-five is a lucky number,”the old man said.“ How would you like to see me bring one in that dressed out over a thousand pounds?”
“Be careful or you will fear even the Reds of Cincinnati and the White Sox of Chicago.”
“Keep warm old man,”the boy said.“ Remember we are in September.”
“No,”the old man said.“ But we have.Haven't we?”“Yes,”the boy said.“Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we'll take the stuff home.”
“No,”the boy said.“But I will see something that he cannot see such as a bird working and get him to come out after dolphin.”