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第2章 Talking Before the Sea（第2页）

“Hewasagreatmanager，”theboysaid。“Myfatherthinkshewasthegreatest。”

“Becausehecameherethemosttimes，”theoldmansaid。“IfDurocherhadcontinuedtocomehereeachyearyourfatherwouldthinkhimthegreatestmanager。”

“Whoisthegreatestmanager，really，LuqueorMikeGonzalez?”

“Ithinktheyareequal。”

“Andthebestfishermanisyou。”

“No。Iknowothersbetter。”

“Queva，”theboysaid。“Therearemanygoodfishermenandsomegreatones。Butthereisonlyyou。”

“Thankyou。Youmakemehappy。Ihopenofishwillcomealongsogreatthathewillproveuswrong。”

“Thereisnosuchfishifyouarestillstrongasyousay。”“ImaynotbeasstrongasIthink，”theoldmansaid。“ButIknowmanytricksandIhaveresolution。”

“Yououghttogotobednowsothatyouwillbefreshinthemorning。IwilltakethethingsbacktotheTerrace。”

“Goodnightthen。Iwillwakeyouinthemorning。”

“Youremyalarmclock，”theboysaid。

“Ageismyalarmclock，”theoldmansaid。“Whydooldmenwakesoearly?Isittohaveonelongerday?”

“Idontknow，”theboysaid。“AllIknowisthatyoungboyssleeplateandhard。”

“Icanrememberit，”theoldmansaid。“Illwakenyouintime。”

“Idonotlikeforhimtowakenme。ItisasthoughIwereinferior。”

“Iknow。”

“Sleepwelloldman。”

Theboywentout。Theyhadeatenwithnolightonthetableandtheoldmantookoffhistrousersandwenttobedinthedark。Herolledhistrousersuptomakeapillow，puttingthenewspaperinsidethem。Herolledhimselfintheblanketandsleptontheotheroldnewspapersthatcoveredthespringsofthebed。

HewasasleepinashorttimeandhedreamedofAfricawhenhewasaboyandthelonggoldenbeachesandthewhitebeaches，sowhitetheyhurtyoureyes，andthehighcapesandthegreatbrownmountains。Helivedalongthatcoastnoweverynightandinhisdreamsheheardthesurfroarandsawthenativeboatscomeridingthroughit。HesmelledthetarandoakumofthedeckashesleptandhesmelledthesmellofAfricathatthelandbreezebroughtatmorning。

Usuallywhenhesmelledthelandbreezehewokeupanddressedtogoandwaketheboy。ButtonightthesmellofthelandbreezecameveryearlyandheknewitwastooearlyinhisdreamandwentondreamingtoseethewhitepeaksoftheIslandsrisingfromtheseaandthenhedreamedofthedifferentharborsandroadsteadsoftheCanaryIslands。

Henolongerdreamedofstorms，norofwomen，norofgreatoccurrences，norofgreatfish，norfights，norcontestsofstrength，norofhiswife。Heonlydreamedofplacesnowandofthelionsonthebeach。Theyplayedlikeyoungcatsintheduskandhelovedthemashelovedtheboy。Heneverdreamedabouttheboy。Hesimplywoke，lookedouttheopendooratthemoonandunrolledhistrousersandputthemon。Heurinatedoutsidetheshackandthenwentuptheroadtowaketheboy。Hewasshiveringwiththemorningcold。Butheknewhewouldshiverhimselfwarmandthatsoonhewouldberowing。

Thedoorofthehousewheretheboylivedwasunlockedandheopeneditandwalkedinquietlywithhisbarefeet。Theboywasasleeponacotinthefirstroomandtheoldmancouldseehimclearlywiththelightthatcameinfromthedyingmoon。Hetookholdofonefootgentlyandheldituntiltheboywokeandturnedandlookedathim。Theoldmannoddedandtheboytookhistrousersfromthechairbythebedand，sittingonthebed，pulledthemon。

Theoldmanwentoutthedoorandtheboycameafterhim。Hewassleepyandtheoldmanputhisarmsacrosshisshouldersandsaid，“Iamsorry。”

“Queva。”Theboysaid。“Itiswhatamanmustdo。”

Theywalkeddowntheroadtotheoldmansshackandallalongtheroad，inthedark，barefootmenweremoving，carryingthemastsoftheirboats。

Whentheyreachedtheoldmansshacktheboytooktherollsoflineinthebasketandtheharpoonandgaffandtheoldmancarriedthemastwiththefurledsailonhisshoulder。

“Doyouwantcoffee?”theboyasked。

“Wellputthegearintheboatandthengetsome。”

Theyhadcoffeefromcondensedmilkcansatanearlymorningplacethatservedfishermen。

“Howdidyousleepoldman?”theboyasked。Hewaswakingupnowalthoughitwasstillhardforhimtoleavehissleep。

“Verywell，Manolin，”theoldmansaid。“Ifeelconfidenttoday。”

“SodoI，”theboysaid。“NowImustgetyoursardinesandmineandyourfreshbaits。Hebringsourgearhimself。Heneverwantsanyonetocarryanything。”

“Weredifferent，”theoldmansaid。“Iletyoucarrythingswhenyouwerefiveyearsold。”

“Iknowit，”theboysaid。“Illberightback。Haveanothercoffee。Wehavecredithere。”

Hewalkedoff，barefootedonthecoralrocks，totheicehousewherethebaitswerestored。

Theoldmandrankhiscoffeeslowly。Itwasallhewouldhavealldayandheknewthatheshouldtakeit。Foralongtimenoweatinghadboredhimandhenevercarriedalunch。Hehadabottleofwaterinthebowoftheskiffandthatwasallheneededfortheday。

Theboywasbacknowwiththesardinesandthetwobaitswrappedinanewspaperandtheywentdownthetrailtotheskiff，feelingthepebbledsandundertheirfeet，andliftedtheskiffandslidherintothewater。

“Goodluckoldman。”

“Goodluck，”theoldmansaid。Hefittedtheropelashingsoftheoarsontothetholepinsand，leaningforwardagainstthethrustofthebladesinthewater，hebegantorowoutoftheharborinthedark。Therewereotherboatsfromtheotherbeachesgoingouttoseaandtheoldmanheardthedipandpushoftheiroarseventhoughhecouldnotseethemnowthemoonwasbelowthehills。