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第2节 第二节 【
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本文地址:http://www.yeidj.com.cn/book/story.php?id=943
文章摘要:第二节 ,热点专题以一持万一狐之掖,椎胸跌足易地而处苏州码子。

他对海龟并不抱着神秘的看法,重庆时时彩五星定胆:尽管他曾多年乘小船去捕海龟。他替所有的海龟伤心,甚至包括那些跟小船一样长、重达一吨的大梭龟。人们大都对海龟残酷无情,因为一只海龟给剖开、杀死之后,它的心脏还要跳动好几个钟点。然而老人想,我也有这样一颗心脏,我的手脚也跟它们的一样。他吃白色的海龟蛋,为了使身子长力气。他在五月份连吃了整整一个月,使自己到九、十月份能身强力壮,去逮地道的人鱼。

他每天还从不少渔夫存放家什的棚屋中一只大圆桶里舀一杯鲨鱼肝油喝。这桶就放在那儿,想喝的渔夫都可以去。大多数渔夫厌恶这种油的味道。但是也并不比摸黑早起更叫人难受,而且它对防治一切伤风流感都非常有效,对眼睛也有好处。

老人此刻抬眼望去,看见那只鸟儿又在盘旋了。

“它找到鱼啦,"他说出声来,这时没有一条飞鱼冲出海面,也没有小鱼纷纷四处逃窜。然而老人望着望着,只见一条小金枪鱼跃到空中,一个转身,头朝下掉进水里。这条金枪鱼在阳光中闪出银白色的光,等它回到了水里,又有些金枪鱼一条接着一条跃出水面,它们是朝四面八方跳的,搅得海水翻腾起来,跳得很远地捕食小鱼。它们正绕着小鱼转,驱赶着小鱼。

要不是它们游得这么快,我可以赶到它们中间去的,老人想,他注视着这群鱼把水搅得泛出白色的水沫,还注视着那鸟儿这时正俯冲下来,扎进在惊慌中被迫浮上海面的小鱼群中。

“这只鸟真是个大帮手,”老人说。就在这当儿,船梢的那根细钓丝在他脚下绷紧了,原来他在脚上绕了一圈,于是他放下双桨,紧紧抓住细钓丝,动手往回拉,感到那小金枪鱼在颤巍巍地拉着,有点儿分量。他越往回拉,钓丝就越是颤巍,他看见水里蓝色的鱼背和金色的两侧,然后把钓丝呼的一甩,使鱼越过船舷,掉在船中。鱼躺在船梢的阳光里,身子结实,形状象颗子弹,一双痴呆的大眼睛直瞪着,动作干净利落的尾巴敏捷、发抖地拍打着船板,砰砰有声,逐渐耗尽了力气。老人出于好意,猛击了一下它的头,一脚把它那还在抖动的身子踢到船梢背阴的地方。

“长鳍金枪鱼,"他说出声来。"拿来钓大鱼倒满好。它有十磅重。”

他记不起他是什么时候第一次开始在独自待着的当儿自言自语的了。往年他独自待着时曾唱歌来着,有时候在夜里唱,那是在小渔船或捕海龟的小艇上值班掌舵时的事。他大概是在那孩子离开了他、他独自待着时开始自言自语的。不过他记不清了。他跟孩子一块儿捕鱼时,他们一般只在有必要时才说话。他们在夜间说话来着,要不,碰到坏天气,被暴风雨困在海上的时候。没有必要不在海上说话,被认为是种好规矩,老人一向认为的确如此,始终遵守它。可是这会儿他把心里想说的话说出声来有好几次了,因为没有旁人会受到他说话的打扰。

“要是别人听到我在自言自语,会当我发疯了,"他说出声来。"不过既然我没有发疯,我就不管,还是要说。有钱人在船上有收音机对他们谈话,还把棒球赛的消息告诉他们。”现在可不是思量棒球赛的时刻,他想。现在只应该思量一桩事。就是我生来要干的那桩事。那个鱼群周围很可能有一条大的,他想。我只逮住了正在吃小鱼的金枪鱼群中一条失散的。可是它们正游向远方,游得很快。今天凡是在海面上露面的都游得很快,向着东北方向。难道一天的这个时辰该如此吗?要不,这是什么我不懂得的天气征兆?

他眼下已看不见海岸的那一道绿色了,只看得见那些青山的仿佛积着白雪的山峰,以及山峰上空象是高耸的雪山般的云块。海水颜色深极了,阳光在海水中幻成彩虹七色。那数不清的斑斑点点的浮游生物,由于此刻太阳升到了头顶上空,都看不见了,眼下老人看得见的仅仅是蓝色海水深处幻成的巨大的七色光带,还有他那几根笔直垂在有一英里深的水中的钓索。

渔夫们管所有这种鱼都叫金枪鱼,只有等到把它们卖出,或者拿来换鱼饵时,才分别叫它们各自的专用名字。这时它们又沉下海去了。阳光此刻很热,老人感到脖颈上热辣辣的,划着划着,觉得汗水一滴滴地从背上往下淌。

我大可随波逐流,他想,管自睡去,预先把钓索在脚趾上绕上一圈,有动静时可以把我弄醒。不过今天是第八十五天,我该一整天好好钓鱼。就在这时,他凝视着钓索,看见其中有一根挑出在水面上的绿色钓竿猛地往水中一沉。

“来啦,"他说。"来啦,"说着从桨架上取下双桨,没有让船颠簸一下。他伸手去拉钓索,把它轻轻地夹在右手大拇指和食指之间。他感到钓索并不抽紧,也没什么分量,就轻松地握着。跟着它又动了一下。这回是试探性的一拉,拉得既不紧又不重,他就完全明白这是怎么回事了。在一百英寻的深处有条大马林鱼正在吃包住钓钩尖端和钩身的沙丁鱼,这个手工制的钓钩是从一条小金枪鱼的头部穿出来的。

老人轻巧地攥着钓索,用左手把它从竿子上轻轻地解下来。他现在可以让它穿过他手指间滑动,不会让鱼感到一点儿牵引力。

在离岸这么远的地方,它长到本月份,个头一定挺大了,他想。吃鱼饵吧,鱼啊。吃吧。请你吃吧。这些鱼饵多新鲜,而你啊,待在这六百英尺的深处,在这漆黑黑的冷水里。在黑暗里再绕个弯子,拐回来把它们吃了吧。

他感到微弱而轻巧地一拉,跟着较猛烈地一拉,这时准是有条沙丁鱼的头很难从钓钩上扯下来。然后没有一丝动静了。

“来吧,"老人说出声来。"再绕个弯子吧。闻闻这些鱼饵。它们不是挺鲜美吗?趁它们还新鲜的时候吃了,回头还有那条金枪鱼。又结实,又凉快,又鲜美。别怕难为情,鱼儿。把它们吃了吧。”

他把钓索夹在大拇指和食指之间等待着。同时盯着它和其他那几根钓索,因为这鱼可能已游到了高一点的地方或低一点的地方。跟着又是那么轻巧地一拉。

“它会咬饵的,"老人说出声来。"求天主帮它咬饵吧。”然而它没有咬饵。它游走了,老人没感到有任何动静。

“它不可能游走的,"他说。"天知道它是不可能游走的。它正在绕弯子呐。也许它以前上过钩,还有点儿记得。”

跟着他感到钓索轻轻地动了一下,他高兴了。

“它刚才不过是在转身,"他说。"它会咬饵的。”

感到这轻微的一拉,他很高兴,接着他感到有些猛拉的感觉,很有份量,叫人难以相信。这是鱼本身的重量造成的,他就松手让钓索朝下溜,一直朝下,朝下溜,从那两卷备用钓索中的一卷上放出钓索。它从老人的指间轻轻地滑下去的时候,他依旧感到很大的分量,尽管他的大拇指和食指施加的压力简直小得觉察不到。

“多棒的鱼啊,"他说。"它正把鱼饵斜叼在嘴里,带着它在游走呐。”

它就会掉过头来把饵吞下去的,他想。他没有把这句话说出声来,因为他知道,一桩好事如果说破了,也许就不会发生了。他知道这条鱼有多大,他想象到它嘴里横衔着金枪鱼,在黑暗中游走。这时他觉得它停止不动了,可是分量还是没变。跟着分量越来越重了,他就再放出一点钓索。他一时加强了大拇指和食指上的压力,于是钓索上的分量增加了,一直传到水中深处。

“它咬饵啦,"他说。"现在我来让它美美地吃一顿。”

他让钓索在指间朝下溜,同时伸出左手,把两卷备用钓索的一端紧系在旁边那根钓索的两卷备用钓索上。他如今准备好了。他眼下除了正在使用的那钓索卷儿,还有三个四十英寻长的卷儿可供备用。

“再吃一些吧,"他说。"美美地吃吧。”

吃了吧,这样可以让钓钩的尖端扎进你的心脏,把你弄死,他想。轻松愉快地浮上来吧,让我把鱼叉刺进你的身子。得了。你准备好了?你进餐得时间够长了吗?

“着啊!"他说出声来,用双手使劲猛拉钓索,收进了一码,然后连连猛拉,使出胳膊上的全副劲儿,拿身子的重量作为支撑,挥动双臂,轮换地把钓索往回拉。

什么用也没有。那鱼只顾慢慢地游开去,老人无法把它往上拉一英寸。他这钓索很结实,是制作来钓大鱼的,他把它套在背上猛拉,钓索给绷得太紧,上面竟蹦出水珠来。

随后它在水里渐渐发出一阵拖长的咝咝声,但他依旧攥着它,在座板上死劲撑住了自己的身子,仰着上半身来抵消鱼的拉力。船儿慢慢地向西北方向驶去。

大鱼一刻不停地游着,鱼和船在平静的水面上慢慢地行进。另外那几个鱼饵还在水里,没有动静,用不着应付。

He had no mysticism about turtles although he had gone in turtle boats for many years. He was sorry for them all, even the great trunk backs that were as long as the skiff and weighed a ton. Most people are heartless about turtles because a turtle’s heart will beat for hours after he has been cut up and butchered. But the old man thought, I have such a heart too and my feet and hands are like theirs. He ate the white eggs to give himself strength. He ate them all through May to be strong in September and October for the truly big fish.
 
He also drank a cup of shark liver oil each day from the big drum in the shack where many of the fishermen kept their gear. It was there for all fishermen who wanted it. Most fishermen hated the taste. But it was no worse than getting up at the hours that they rose and it was very good against all colds and grippes and it was good for the eyes.

Now the old man looked up and saw that the bird was circling again.

"He’s found fish,” he said aloud. No flying fish broke the surface and there was no scattering of bait fish. But as the old man watched, a small tuna rose in the air, turned and dropped head first into the water. The tuna shone silver in the sun and after he had dropped back into the water another and another rose and they were jumping in all directions, churning the water and leaping in long jumps after the bait. They were circling it and driving it.

If they don’t travel too fast I will get into them, the old man thought, and he watched the school working the water white and the bird now dropping and dipping into the bait fish that were forced to the surface in their panic.

"The bird is a great help,” the old man said. Just then the stern line came taut under his foot, where he had kept a loop of the line, and he dropped his oars and felt tile weight of the small tuna’s shivering pull as he held the line firm and commenced to haul it in. The shivering increased as he pulled in and he could see the blue back of the fish in the water and the gold of his sides before he swung him over the side and into the boat. He lay in the stern in the sun, compact and bullet shaped, his big, unintelligent eyes staring as he thumped his life out against the planking of the boat with the quick shivering strokes of his neat, fast-moving tail. The old man hit him on the head for kindness and kicked him, his body still shuddering, under the shade of the stern.

"Albacore,” he said aloud. “He’ll make a beautiful bait. He’ll weigh ten pounds.”

He did not remember when he had first started to talk aloud when he was by himself. He had sung when he was by himself in the old days and he had sung at night sometimes when he was alone steering on his watch in the smacks or in the turtle boats. He had probably started to talk aloud, when alone, when the boy had left. But he did not remember. When he and the boy fished together they usually spoke only when it was necessary. They talked at night or when they were storm-bound by bad weather. It was considered a virtue not to talk unnecessarily at sea and the old man had always considered it so and respected it. But now he said his thoughts aloud many times since there was no one that they could annoy.

"If the others heard me talking out loud they would think that I am crazy,” he said aloud. “But since I am not crazy, I do not care. And the rich have radios to talk to them in their boats and to bring them the baseball.”

Now is no time to think of baseball, he thought. Now is the time to think of only one thing. That which I was born for. There might be a big one around that school, he thought. I picked up only a straggler from the albacore that were feeding. But they are working far out and fast. Everything that shows on the surface today travels very fast and to the north-east. Can that be the time of day? Or is it some sign of weather that I do not know?

He could not see the green of the shore now but only the tops of the blue hills that showed white as though they were snow-capped and the clouds that looked like high snow mountains above them. The sea was very dark and the light made prisms in the water. The myriad flecks of the plankton were annulled now by the high sun and it was only the great deep prisms in the blue water that the old man saw now with his lines going straight down into the water that was a mile deep.

The tuna, the fishermen called all the fish of that species tuna and only distinguished among them by their proper names when they came to sell them or to trade them for baits, were down again. The sun was hot now and the old man felt it on the back of his neck and felt the sweat trickle down his back as he rowed.

I could just drift, he thought, and sleep and put a bight of line around my toe to wake me. But today is eighty-five days and I should fish the day well.

Just then, watching his lines, he saw one of the projecting green sticks dip sharply.

"Yes,” he said. “Yes,” and shipped his oars without bumping the boat. He reached out for the line and held it softly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He felt no strain nor weight and he held the line lightly. Then it came again. This time it was a tentative pull, not solid nor heavy, and he knew exactly what it was.
One hundred fathoms down a marlin was eating the sardines that covered the point and the shank of the hook where the hand-forged hook projected from the head of the small tuna.

The old man held the line delicately, and softly, with his left hand, unleashed it from the stick. Now he could let it run through his fingers without the fish feeling any tension.

This far out, he must be huge in this month, he thought. Eat them, fish. Eat them. Please eat them.

How fresh they are and you down there six hundred feet in that cold water in the dark. Make another turn in the dark and come back and eat them. He felt the light delicate pulling and then a harder pull when a sardine’s head must have been more difficult to break from the hook. Then there was nothing.

"Come on,” the old man said aloud. “Make another turn. Just smell them. Aren’t they lovely? Eat them good now and then there is the tuna. Hard and cold and lovely. Don’t be shy, fish. Eat them.”

He waited with the line between his thumb and his finger, watching it and the other lines at the same time for the fish might have swum up or down. Then came the same delicate pulling touch again.

"He’ll take it,” the old man said aloud. “God help him to take it.”

He did not take it though. He was gone and the old man felt nothing.

"He can’t have gone,” he said. “Christ knows he can’t have gone. He’s making a turn. Maybe he has been hooked before and he remembers something of it. "

Then he felt the gentle touch on the line and he was happy.“It was only his turn,” he said. “He’ll take it.” He was happy feeling the gentle pulling and then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy. It was the weight of the fish and he let the line slip down, down, down, unrolling off the first of the two reserve coils. As it went down, slipping lightly through the old man’s fingers, he still could feel the great weight, though the pressure of his thumb and finger were almost imperceptible. “What a fish,” he said. “He has it sideways in his mouth now and he is moving off with it.”

Then he will turn and swallow it, he thought. He did not say that because he knew that if you said a good thing it might not happen. He knew what a huge fish this was and he thought of him moving away in the darkness with the tuna held crosswise in his mouth. At that moment he felt him stop moving but the weight was still there. Then the weight increased and he gave more line. He tightened the pressure of his thumb and finger for a moment and the weight increased and was going straight down.

"He’s taken it,” he said. “Now I’ll let him eat it well.”

He let the line slip through his fingers while he reached down with his left hand and made fast the free end of the two reserve coils to the loop of the two reserve coils of the next line. Now he was ready. He had three forty-fathom coils of line in reserve now, as well as the coil he was using.

"Eat it a little more,” he said. “Eat it well.”

Eat it so that the point of the hook goes into your heart and kills you, he thought. Come up easy and let me put the harpoon into you. All right. Are you ready? Have you been long enough at table?

"Now!” he said aloud and struck hard with both hands, gained a yard of line and then struck again and again, swinging with each arm alternately on the cord with all the strength of his arms and the pivoted weight of his body.

Nothing happened. The fish just moved away slowly and the old man could not raise him an inch. His line was strong and made for heavy fish and he held it against his hack until it was so taut that beads of water were jumping from it. Then it began to make a slow hissing sound in the water and he still held it, bracing himself against the thwart and leaning back against the pull. The boat began to move slowly off toward the north-west.

The fish moved steadily and they travelled slowly on the calm water. The other baits were still in the water but there was nothing to be done.



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