When he sailed into the little harbor the lights of the Terrace were out and he knew everyone was in bed.The breeze had risen steadily and was blowing strongly now.It was quiet in the harbor though and he sailed up onto the little patch of shingle below the rocks.There was no one to help him so he pulled the boat up as far as he could.Then he stepped out and made her fast to a rock.
“They beat me, Manolin,”he said.“They truly beat me.”
“Don't forget to tell Pedrico the head is his.”
“The hell with luck,”the boy said.“I'll bring the luck with me.”
“Damn my fish,”the boy said and he started to cry again.
“No.I am not lucky.I am not lucky anymore.”
Finally he put the mast down and stood up.He picked the mast up and put it on his shoulder and started up the road.He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.
“Do you want a drink of any kind?”the proprietor asked.
“What's that?”she asked a waiter and pointed to the long backbone of the great fish that was now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide.
“Let Pedrico chop it up to use in fish traps.”
“Tiburon,”the waiter said,“Eshark.”He was meaning to explain what had happened.
He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning.It was blowing so hard that the drifting-boats would not be going out and the boy had slept late and then come to the old man's shack as he had come each morning.The boy saw that the old man was breathing and then he saw the old man's hands and he started to cry.He went out very quietly to go to bring some coffee and all the way down the road he was crying.