After a while the fish stopped beating at the wire and started circling slowly again.The old man was gaining line steadily now.But he felt faint again.He lifted some sea water with his left hand and put it on his head.Then he put more on and rubbed the back of his neck.
But I must get him close, close, close, he thought. I mustn't try for the head.I must get the heart.
Why was I not born with two good hands?He thought.Perhaps it was my fault in not training that one properly.But God knows he has had enough chances to learn.He did not do so badly in the night,though,and he has only cramped once.If he cramps again let the line cut him off.
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 and the fish came over onto his side and swam gently on his side, his bill almost touching the planking of the skiff and started to pass the boat,long,deep,wide,silver and barred with purple and interminable in the water.
“He is making the far part of his circle now,”he said. I must hold all I can,he thought.The strain will shorten his circle each time.Perhaps in an hour I will see him.Now I must convince him and then I must kill him.
The sun was rising for the third time since he had put to sea when the fish started to circle.