“He hasn't changed at all,”he said.But watching the movement of the water against his hand he noticed that it was perceptibly slower.
The old man unhooked the fish,rebaited the line with another sardine and tossed it over.Then he worked his way slowly back to the bow.He washed his left hand and wiped it on his trousers.Then he shifted the heavy line from his right hand to his left and washed his right hand in the sea while he watched the sun go into the ocean and the slant of the big cord.
It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September.He lay against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could.The first stars were out.He did not know the name of Rigel but he saw it and knew soon they would all be out and he would have all his distant friends.
“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.”
The odds would change back and forth all night and they fed the negro rum and lighted cigarettes for him.Then the Negro,after the rum,would try for a tremendous effort and once he had the old man, who was not an old man then but was Santiago El Campeon,nearly three inches off balance.But the old man had raised his hand up to dead even again.He was sure then that he had the negro,who was a fine man and a great athlete,beaten.And at daylight when the bettors were asking that it be called a draw and the referee was shaking his head,he had unleashed his effort and forced the hand of the negro down and down until it rested on the wood.The match had started on a Sunday morning and ended on a Monday morning.Many of the bettors had asked for a draw because they had to go to work on the docks loading sacks of sugar or at the Havana Coal Company. Otherwise everyone would have wanted it to go to a finish.But he had finished it anyway and before anyone had to go to work.