“It's steady,”the old man told him.“ It's too steady.You shouldn't be that tired after a windless night.What are birds coming to?”
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 knelt down and found the tuna under the stern with the gaff and drew it toward him keeping it clear of the coiled lines.Holding the line with his left shoulder again,and bracing on his left hand and arm,he took the tuna off the gaff hook and put the gaff back in place.He put one knee on the fish and cut strips of dark red meat longitudinally from the back of the head to the tail.They were wedge-shaped strips and he cut them from next to the backbone down to the edge of the belly.When he had cut six strips he spread them out on the wood of the bow,wiped his knife on his trousers, and lifted the carcass of the bonito by the tail and dropped it overboard.