He tried it once more and he felt himself going when he turned the fish.The fish righted himself and swam off again slowly with the great tail weaving in the air.
“Fish,”the old man said.“ Fish,you are going to have to die anyway.Do you have to kill me too?”
He took hold of the line carefully so that it did not fit into any of the fresh line cuts and shifted his weight so that he could put his left hand into the sea on the other side of the skiff.
“He is making the far part of his circle now,”he said. I must hold all I can,he thought.The strain will shorten his circle each time.Perhaps in an hour I will see him.Now I must convince him and then I must kill him.
“Come on,fish,”he said.But the fish did not come. Instead he lay there wallowing now in the seas and the old man pulled the skiff up onto him.
Make him pay for the line,he thought.Make him pay for it.
It has more nourishment than almost any fish, he thought.At least the kind of strength that I need.Now I have done what I can,he thought.Let him begin to circle and let the fight come.
The old man held him with his left hand and his shoulders now and stooped down and scooped up water in his right hand to get the crushed dolphin flesh off his face.He was afraid that it might nauseate him and he would vomit and lose his strength.When his face was cleaned he washed his right hand in the water over the side and then let it stay in the salt water while he watched the first light come before the sunrise.He's headed almost east,he thought.That means he is tired and going with the current.Soon he will have to circle. Then our true work begins.