Ernest Hemingway
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 northeast. 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.
I wish I had the boy, the old man said aloud, "I'm being towed by a fish and I'm the towing bitt. I could make the line fast. But then he could break it. I must hold him all I can and give him line when he must have it. Thank God he is traveling and not going down.
What I will do if he decides to go down, I don't know. What I'll do if he sounds and dies, I don't know. But I'll do something. There are plenty of things I can do. He held the line against his back and watched its slant in the water and the skiff moving steadily to the north-west. This will kill him," the old man thought, "He can't do this forever. But four hours later the fish was still swimming steadily out to sea, towing the skiff, and the old man was still braced solidly with the line across his back. "It was noon when I hooked him," he said, "And I have never seen him."
He had pushed his straw hat hard down on his head before he hooked the fish and it was cutting his forehead. He was thirsty too and he got down on his knees and, being careful not to jerk on the line, moved as far into the bow as he could get and reached the water bottle with one hand. He opened it and drank a little. Then he rested against the bow. He rested sitting on the unstepped mast and sail and tried not to think but only to endure.
Then he looked behind him and saw that no land was visible. "That makes no difference", he thought, "I can always come in on the glow from Havana. There are two more hours before the sun sets and maybe he will come up before that. If he doesn't maybe he will come up with the moon. If he does not do that maybe he will come up with the sunrise. I have no cramps and I feel strong. It is he that has the hook in his mouth. But what a fish to pull like that. He must have his mouth shut tight on the wire. I wish I could see him. I wish I could see him only once to know what I have against me."
The fish never changed his course nor his direction all that night as far as the man could tell from watching the stars. It was cold after the sun went down and the old man's sweat dried cold on his back and his arms and his old legs. During the day he had taken the sack that covered the bait box and spread it in the sun to dry. After the sun went down he tied it around his neck so that it hung down over his back and he cautiously worked it down under the line that was across his shoulders now. The sack cushioned the line and he had found a way of leaning forward against the bow so that he was almost comfortable. The position actually was only somewhat less intolerable; but he thought of it as almost comfortable.
I can do nothing with him and he can do nothing with me, he thought, "Not as long as he keeps this up."
?Once he stood up and urinated over the side of the skiff and looked at the stats and checked his course. The line showed like a phosphorescent streak in the water straight out from his shoulders. They were moving more slowly now and the glow of Havana was not so strong, so that he knew the current must be carrying them to the eastward. If I lose the glare of Havana we must be going more to the eastward, he thought. For if the fish's course held true I must see it for many more hours. I wonder how the baseball came out in the grand leagues today, he thought. It would be wonderful to do this with a radio. Then he thought, think of it always. Think of what you are doing. You must do nothing stupid.
Then he said aloud, "I wish I had the boy. To help me and to see this."
No one should be alone in their old age, he thought, "But it is unavoidable. I must remember to eat the tuna before he spoils in order to keep strong. Remember, no matter how little you want to, that you must eat him in the morning. Remember," he said to himself.
During the night two porpoises came around the boat and he could hear them rolling and blowing. He could tell the difference between the blowing noise the male made and the sighing blow of the female. "They are good," he said, "They play and make jokes and love one another. They are our brothers like the flying fish."
Then he began to pity the great fish that he had hooked. "He is wonderful and strange and who knows how old he is," he thought. "Never have I had such a strong fish nor one who acted so strangely. Perhaps he is too wise to jump. He could ruin me by jumping or by a wild rush. But perhaps he has been hooked many times before and he knows that this is how he should make his fight. He cannot know that it is only one man against him, nor that it is an old man. But what a great fish he is and what will he bring in the market if the flesh is good. He took the bait like a male and he pulls like a male and his fight has no panic in it. I wonder if he has any plans or if he is just as desperate as I am."
[美]厄內斯特·海明威
他記不起他是什么時候第一次開始在獨自呆著時自言自語的了。往年他獨自呆著時曾唱歌來著,有時候在夜里唱,那是在小漁船或捕海龜的小艇上值班掌舵時的事。大概是在孩子離開了他,他獨自呆著時開始自言自語的,不過他記不清了。他跟孩子一塊兒捕魚時,他們一般只在有必要時才說話。他們在夜間或者碰到壞天氣被暴風雨困在海上的時候說話。沒有必要不在海上說話,被認為是種好規(guī)矩,老人一向認為的確如此,始終遵守它。可是這會兒他把心里想說的話說出聲來有好幾次了,因為沒有旁人會受到他說話的打擾。
“要是別人聽到我在自言自語,會當我發(fā)瘋了,”他說出聲來,“不過既然我沒有發(fā)瘋,我就不管,還是要說。有錢人在船上可以聽收音機,可以知道棒球賽的消息。不過,現(xiàn)在可不是想棒球賽的時候,現(xiàn)在只應該想一件事,就是我生來要干的那件事。那個魚群周圍很可能有一條大的,我只逮住了正在吃小魚的金槍魚群中一條失散的??墒撬鼈冋蜗蜻h方,游得很快。今天凡是在海面上露面的都向著東北方向游得很快。難道一天的這個時辰該如此嗎?要不,這是什么我不懂得的天氣征兆?”
他眼下已看不見海岸的那一道綠色了,只看得見那些青山的仿佛積著白雪的山峰,以及山峰上空像是高聳的雪山般的云塊。海水顏色深極了,陽光在海水中幻成七色彩虹。那數不清的斑斑點點的浮游生物,由于此刻太陽升到了頭頂上空,都看不見了,眼下老人看得見的僅僅是藍色海水深處幻成的巨大的七色光帶,還有他那幾根筆直垂在有一英里深的水中的釣索。
漁夫們管所有這種魚都叫金槍魚,只有等到把它們賣出,或者拿來換魚餌時,才分別叫它們各自的專用名字。這時它們又沉下海去了。陽光此刻很熱,老人感到脖頸上熱辣辣的,劃著劃著,覺得汗水一滴滴地從背上往下淌。
“我大可隨波逐流,”他想,“我自管睡去,預先把釣索在腳趾上繞上一圈,有動靜時可以把我弄醒。不過今天是第85天,我該一整天好好釣魚?!本驮谶@時,他凝視著釣索,看見其中有一根挑出在水面上的綠色釣竿猛地往水中一沉。
“來啦,”他說。“來啦,”說著從槳架上取下雙槳,沒有讓船顛簸一下。他伸手去拉釣索,把它輕輕地夾在右手大拇指和食指之間。他感到釣索并不抽緊,也沒什么分量,就輕松地握著。跟著它又動了一下。這回是試探性的一拉,拉得既不緊又不重,他就完全明白這是怎么回事了。在一百英尋的深處有條大馬林魚正在吃包住釣鉤尖端和鉤身的沙丁魚,這個手工制的釣鉤是從一條小金槍魚的頭部穿出來的。
?老人輕巧地攥著釣索,用左手把它從竿子上輕輕地解下來。他現(xiàn)在可以讓它穿過他手指間滑動,不會讓魚感到一點兒牽引力。
“在離岸這么遠的地方,它長到本月份,個頭一定挺大了,”他想?!俺贼~餌吧,魚啊。吃吧,請你吃吧。這些魚餌多新鮮,而你啊,待在這六百英尺的深處,在這漆黑黑的冷水里。在黑暗里再繞個彎子,拐回來把它們吃了吧。”
他感到微弱而輕巧的一拉,跟著較猛烈的一拉,這時準是有條沙丁魚的頭很難從釣鉤上扯下來,然后沒有一絲動靜了。
“來吧,”老人說出聲來,“再繞個彎子吧。聞聞這些魚餌。它們不是挺鮮美嗎?趁它們還新鮮的時候吃了,回頭還有那條金槍魚。又結實,又涼快,又鮮美。別怕難為情,魚兒,把它們吃了吧?!?/p>
他把釣索夾在大拇指和食指之間等待著。同時盯著它和其他那幾根釣索,因為這魚可能已游到了高一點的地方或低一點的地方。跟著又是那么輕巧的一拉。
“它會咬餌的,”老人說出聲來,“求天主幫它咬餌吧?!比欢鼪]有咬餌。它游走了,老人沒感到有任何動靜。
“它不可能游走的,”他說,“天知道它是不可能游走的。它正在繞彎子呢。也許它以前上過鉤,還有點兒記得?!?/p>
跟著他感到釣索輕輕地動了一下,他高興了。
“它剛才不過是在轉身,”他說,“它會咬餌的?!?/p>
感到這輕微的一拉,他很高興,接著他感到有些猛拉的感覺,很有分量,叫人難以相信。這是魚本身的重量造成的,他就松手讓釣索朝下溜,一直朝下,朝下溜,從那兩卷備用釣索中的一卷上放出釣索。它從老人的指間輕輕地滑下去的時候,他依舊感到很大的分量,盡管他的大拇指和食指施加的壓力簡直小得覺察不到。
“多棒的魚啊,”他說,“它正把魚餌斜叼在嘴里,帶著它在游走呢?!?/p>
“它就會掉過頭來把餌吞下去的,”他想。他沒有把這句話說出聲來,因為他知道,一樁好事如果說破了,也許就不會發(fā)生了。他知道這條魚有多大,他想象到它嘴里橫銜著金槍魚,在黑暗中游走。這時他覺得它停止不動了,可是分量還是沒變。跟著分量越來越重了,他就再放出一點釣索。他一時加強了大拇指和食指上的壓力,于是釣索上的分量增加了,一直傳到水中深處。
“它咬餌啦,”他說,“現(xiàn)在我來讓它美美地吃一頓?!?/p>
他讓釣索在指間朝下溜,同時伸出左手,把兩卷備用釣索的一端緊系在旁邊那根釣索的兩卷備用釣索上。他如今準備好了。他眼下除了正在使用的那釣索卷兒,還有三個40英尋長的卷兒可供備用。
“再吃一些吧,”他說,“美美地吃吧?!?/p>
“吃了吧,這樣可以讓釣鉤的尖端扎進你的心臟,把你弄死,”他想?!拜p松愉快地浮上來吧,讓我把魚叉刺進你的身子。得了。你準備好了嗎?你進餐的時間夠長了嗎?”
“好了,就是現(xiàn)在!”他說出聲來,用雙手使勁猛拉釣索,收進了一碼,然后連連猛拉,使出胳膊上的全副勁兒,拿身子的重量作為支撐,揮動雙臂,輪換地把釣索往回拉。
什么用也沒有。那魚只顧慢慢地游開去,老人無法把它往上拉一英寸。他這釣索很結實,是制作來釣大魚的,他把它套在背上猛拉,釣索給繃得太緊,上面竟蹦出水珠來。
?隨后它在水里漸漸發(fā)出一陣拖長的噬噬聲,但他依舊攥著它,在座板上死勁撐住了自己的身子,仰著上半身來抵消魚的拉力。船兒慢慢地向西北方向駛去。
大魚一刻不停地游著,魚和船在平靜的水面上慢慢地行進。另外那幾個魚餌還在水里,沒有動靜,用不著應付。
“但愿那孩子在這兒就好了,”老人說出聲來,“我正被一條魚拖著走,成了一根系纖繩的短柱啦。我可以把釣索系在船舷上。不過這一來魚兒會把它扯斷的。我得拼命牽住它,必要的時候給它放出釣索。謝謝老天,它還在朝前游,沒有朝下沉?!?/p>
“如果它決意下沉,我該怎么辦?我不知道。如果它潛入海底,死在那兒,我該怎么辦?我不知道??墒俏冶仨毟尚┦裁?,我能做的事情多著呢。”
他攥住了勒在背脊上的釣索,緊盯著它直往水中斜去,小船呢,不停地朝西北方駛去。
“這樣能叫它送命,”老人想,“它不能一直這樣干下去?!比欢^了四個鐘點,那魚照樣拖著這條小船,不停地向大海游去,老人呢,依然緊緊攥著勒在背脊上的釣索?!拔沂侵形绨阉炆系模彼f,“可我始終還沒見過它。”
他在釣上這魚以前,把草帽拉下,緊扣在腦瓜上,這時勒得他的腦門好痛。他還覺得口渴,就雙膝跪下,小心不讓扯動釣索,盡量朝船頭爬去,伸手去取水瓶。他打開瓶蓋,喝了一點兒,然后靠在船頭上休息。他坐在從桅座上拔下的繞著帆的桅桿上,竭力不去想什么,只顧熬下去。
等他回顧背后時,一看陸地已沒有一絲蹤影了?!斑@沒有關系,”他想,“我總能靠著哈瓦那的燈火回港的。離太陽落下還有兩個鐘點,也許不到那時魚就會浮上來。如果它不上來,也許會隨著月出浮上來。如果它不這樣干,也許會隨著日出浮上來。我手腳沒有抽筋,我感到身強力壯,是它的嘴給釣住了啊。不過拉力這樣大,該是條多大的魚啊。它的嘴準是死死地咬住了鋼絲釣鉤。但愿能看到它。但愿能知道我這對手是什么樣兒的,哪怕只看一眼也好。
老人憑著觀察天上的星斗,看出那魚整整一夜始終沒有改變它的路線和方向。太陽下去后,天氣轉涼了,老人的背脊、胳膊和衰老的腿上的汗水都干了,感到發(fā)冷。白天里,他曾把蓋在魚餌匣上的麻袋取下,攤在陽光里曬干。太陽下去了,他把麻袋系在脖子上,讓它披在背上,他并且小心地把它塞在如今正掛在肩上的釣索下面。有麻袋墊著釣索,他就可以彎腰向船頭靠去,這樣簡直可說很舒服了。這姿勢實在只能說是多少叫人好受一點兒,可是他自以為簡直可說很舒服了。
“我拿它一點辦法也沒有,它也拿我沒辦法,”他想,“只要它老是這樣干下去,雙方都一點沒辦法?!?/p>
他有一回站起身來,隔著船舷撒尿,然后抬眼望著星斗,核對他的航向。釣索從他肩上一直鉆進水里,看來像一道磷光。魚和船此刻行動放慢了。哈瓦那的燈火也不大輝煌,他于是明白,海流準是在把他們雙方帶向東方。“如果我就此看不見哈瓦那炫目的燈光,我們一定是到了更東的地方,”他想,“因為,如果這魚的路線沒有變的話,我準會好幾個鐘點看得見燈光。不知今天的棒球大聯(lián)賽結果如何,”他想,“干這行當有臺收音機才美哪?!苯又?,老是惦記著這玩意兒。想想你正在干的事情吧。你哪能干蠢事啊。
然后他說出聲來:“但愿孩子在就好了。可以幫我一手,讓他見識見識這種光景。”
?“誰也不該上了年紀獨個兒待著,”他想,“不過這也是避免不了的。為了保存體力,我一定要記住趁金槍魚沒壞時就吃。記住了,哪怕只想吃一點點,也必須在早上吃。記住了,”他對自己說。
夜間,兩條海豚游到小船邊來,他聽見它們翻騰和噴水的聲音。他能辨別出那雄的發(fā)出的喧鬧的噴水聲和那雌的發(fā)出的喘息般的噴水聲。
“它們都是好樣的,”他說,“它們嬉戲,打鬧,相親相愛。它們是我們的兄弟,就像飛魚一樣。”
跟著他憐憫起這條被他釣住的大魚來了?!八娉錾嫫嫣?,而且有誰知道它年齡多大呢,”他想。我從沒釣到過這樣強大的魚,也沒見過行動這樣奇特的魚。也許它太機靈,不愿跳出水來。它可以跳出水來,或者來個猛沖,把我搞垮。不過,也許它曾上鉤過好多次,所以知道應該如何搏斗。它哪會知道它的對手只有一個人,而且是個老頭兒。不過它是條多大的魚啊,如果魚肉良好的話,在市場上能賣多大一筆錢啊,它咬起餌來像條雄魚,拉起鉤索來也像雄魚,搏斗起來一點也不驚慌。不知道它有沒有什么打算,還是就跟我一樣地不顧死活?
實戰(zhàn)提升
Practising & Exercise
導讀
厄內斯特·海明威(Ernest Hemingway),美國小說家,1954年度諾貝爾文學獎獲得者、“新聞體”小說的創(chuàng)始人。被稱為“文壇硬漢”的海明威的文風一向以簡潔明快而著稱,俗稱“電報式”。他的創(chuàng)作風格也很獨特,從來都是站著寫作。
這部小說是根據一位古巴漁夫的真實經歷而創(chuàng)作的。作者用寫實的手法記錄了圣地亞哥老人捕魚的全過程,塑造了一個在重壓下仍然保持優(yōu)雅風度、在精神上永遠不可戰(zhàn)勝的老人形象。作者熱情地贊頌了人類面對艱難困苦時所顯示的堅不可摧的精神力量。
核心單詞
smack [sm?k] n. 滋味,味道
straggler [?str?ɡl?] n. 流浪者;走散的人;離群的動物
plankton [?pl??kt(?)n] n. 浮游生物
trickle [?trikl] v. 滴;淌;細細地流
fathom [?f?e?m] v. 測量……的深度
coil [k?il] v. 成圈狀;盤繞
pivot [?piv?t] n. 樞;支樞;中心點
skiff [skif] n. 小艇;小型帆船
bait [beit] n. 餌;引誘物
翻譯
He did not remember when he had first started to talk aloud when he was by himself.
The fish never changed his course nor his direction all that night as far as the man could tell from watching the stars.