“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.
Now the man watched the dip of the three sticks over the side of the skiff and rowed gently to keep the lines straight up and down and at their proper depths.It was quite light and any moment now the sun would rise.
He watched the flying fish burst out again and again and the ineffectual movements of the bird.That school has gotten away from me,he thought.They are moving out too fast and too far.But perhaps I will pick up a stray and perhaps my big fish is around them.My big fish must be somewhere.