He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin.The male fish always let the female fish feed first and the hooked fish,the female,made a wild,panic-stricken, despairing fight that soon exhausted her,and all the time the male had stayed with her,crossing the line and circling with her on the surface.He had stayed so close that the old man was afraid he would cut the line with his tail which was sharp as a scythe and almost of that size and shape.When the old man had gaffed her and clubbed her,holding the rapier bill with its sandpaper edge and clubbing her across the top of her head until her color turned to a color almost like the backing of mirrors,and then,with the boy's aid,hoisted her aboard,the male fish had stayed by the side of the boat.Then, while the old man was clearing the lines and preparing the harpoon,the male fish jumped high into the air beside the boat to see where the female was and then went down deep, his lavender wings,that were his pectoral fins,spread wide and all his wide lavender stripes showing.He was beautiful, the old man remembered,and he had stayed.
Once he stood up and urinated over the side of the skiff and looked at the stars and checked his course.The line showed like a phosphorescent streak in the water straight out from his shoulders.They were moving more slowly now and the glow of Havana was not so strong,so that he knew the current must be carrying them to the eastward.If I lose the glare of Havana we must be going more to the eastward, he thought.For if the fish's course held true I must see it for many more hours.I wonder how the baseball came out in the grand leagues today,he thought.It would be wonderful to do this with a radio.Then he thought,think of it always.Think of what you are doing.You must do nothing stupid.