“Bad news for you fish,”he said and shifted the line over the sacks that covered his shoulders.
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 would learn about the hawks soon enough.
The bird made the stern of the boat and rested there. Then he flew around the old man's head and rested on the line where he was more comfortable.
He looked across the sea and knew how alone he was now.But he could see the prisms in the deep dark water and the line stretching ahead and the strange undulation of the calm.The clouds were building up now for the trade wind and he looked ahead and saw a flight of wild ducks etching themselves against the sky over the water,then blurring,then etching again and he knew no man was ever alone on the sea.
I wonder what he made that lurch for,he thought.The wire must have slipped on the hill of his back.Certainly his back cannot feel as badly as mine does.But he cannot pull this skiff forever,no matter how great he is.Now everything is cleared away that might make trouble and I have a big reserve of line;all that a man can ask.
He thought of how some men feared being out of sight of land in a small boat and knew they were right in the months of sudden bad weather.But now they were in hurricane months and,when there are no hurricanes,the weather of hurricane months is the best of all the year.