“I wish the boy were here and that I had some salt,”he said aloud.
“Take a good rest,small bird,”he said.“ Then go in and take your chance like any man or bird or fish.”
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 fast so that they would come automatically.Hail Marys are easier to say than Our Fathers,he thought.
The thousand times that 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.
“I'll kill him though,”he said.“In all his greatness and his glory.”
He rubbed the cramped hand against his trousers and tried to gentle the fingers.But it would not open.Maybe it will open with the sun,he thought,Maybe it will open when the strong raw tuna is digested.If I have to have it,I will open it,cost whatever it costs.But I do not want to open it now by force.Let it open by itself and come back of its own accord. After all I abused it much in the night when it is necessary to free and unite the various lines.
Chew it well,he thought,and get all the juices.It would not be bad to eat with a little lime or with lemon or with salt.“How do you feel,hand?”he asked the cramped hand that was almost as stiff as rigor mortis.“ I'll eat some more for you.”