“When I was your age I was before the mast on a square rigged ship that ran to Africa and I have seen lions on the beaches in the evening.”
The door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and he opened it and walked in quietly with his bare feet.The boy was asleep on a cot in the first room and the old man could see him clearly with the light that came in from the dying moon.He took hold of one foot gently and held it until the boy woke and turned and looked at him.The old man nodded and the boy took his trousers from the chair by the bed and, sitting on the bed,pulled them on.
The old man drank his coffee slowly.It was all he would have all day and he knew that he should take it.For a long time now eating had bored him and he never carried a lunch.He had a bottle of water in the bow of the skiff and that was all he needed for the day.
“Then live a long time and take care of yourself,”the old man said.“ What are we eating?”
He no longer dreamed of storms,nor of women,nor of great occurrences ,nor of great fish,nor fights,nor contests of strength,nor of his wife.He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach.They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy.He never dreamed about the boy.He simply woke,looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on. He urinated outside the shack and then went up the road to wake the boy.He was shivering with the morning cold.But he knew he would shiver himself warm and that soon he would be rowing.