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He started to work his way back to the stern on his hands and knees, being careful not to jerk against the fish.
He may be half asleep himself, he thought.
But I do not want him to rest.
He must pull until he dies.
Back in the stern he turned so that his left hand held the strain of the line across his shoulders and drew his knife from its sheath with his right hand.
The stars were bright now and he saw the dolphin clearly and he pushed the blade of his knife into his head and drew him out from under the stem.
He put one of his feet on the fish and slit him quickly from the vent up to the tip of his lower jaw.
Then he put his knife down and gutted him with his right hand, scooping him clean and pulling the gills clear.
He felt the maw heavy and slippery in his hands and he slit it open.
There were two flying fish inside.
They were fresh and hard and he laid them side by side and dropped the guts and the gills over the stem.
They sank leaving a trail of phosphorescence in the water.
The dolphin was cold and a leprous gray-white now in the starlight and the old man skinned one side of him while he held his right foot on the fish's head.
Then he turned him over and skinned the other side and cut each side off from the head down to the tail.
He slid the carcass overboard and looked to see if there was any swirl in the water.
But there was only the light of its slow descent.
He turned then and placed the two flying fish inside the two fillets of fish and putting his knife back in its sheath, he worked his way slowly back to the bow.
His back was bent with the weight of the line across it and he carried the fish in his right hand.
Back in the bow he laid the two fillets of fish out on the wood with the flying fish beside them.
After that he settled the line across his shoulders in a new place and held it again with his left hand resting on the gunwale.
Then he leaned over the side and washed the flying fish in the water, noting the speed of the water against his hand.
His hand was phosphorescent from skinning the fish and he watched the flow of the water against it.
The flow was less strong and as he rubbed the side of his hand against the planking of the skiff, particles of phosphorus floated off and drifted slowly astern.
'He is tiring or he is resting,' the old man said.
'Now let me get through the eating of this dolphin and get some rest and a little sleep.'
Under the stars and with the night colder all the time he ate half of one of the dolphin fillets and one of the flying fish, gutted and with its head cut off.
'What an excellent fish dolphin is to eat cooked,' he said.
'And what a miserable fish raw. I will never go in a boat again without salt or limes.'
If I had brains I would have splashed water on the bow all day and drying, it would have made salt, he thought.
But then I did not hook the dolphin until almost sunset.
Still it was a lack of preparation.
But I have chewed it all well and I am not nauseated.
朗读：迪新 翻译：海观 背景音乐：写给海洋 |
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