He let the line slip through his fingers while he reached down with his left hand and made fast the free end of the two reserve coils to the loop of the two reserve coils of the next line.Now he was ready.He had three forty-fathom coils of line in reserve now,as well as the coil he was using.
“Come on,”the old man said aloud.“Make another turn.Just smell them.Aren't they lovely?Eat them good now and then there is the tuna.Hard and cold and lovely.Don't be shy,fish.Eat them.”
Eat it so that the point of the hook goes into your heart and kills you,he thought,Come up easy and let me put the harpoon into you.All right.Are you ready?Have you been long enough at table?
The old man held the line delicately,and softly,with his left hand,unleashed it from the stick.Now he could let it run through his fingers without the fish feeling any tension .
“They are good,”he said.“ They play and make jokes and love one another.They are our brothers like the flying fish.”
This will kill him,the old man thought.He can't do this forever.But four hours later the fish was still swimming steadily out to sea,towing the skiff,and the old man was still braced solidly with the line across his back.