The old man wiped the blade of his knife and laid down the oar.Then he found the sheet and the sail filled and he brought the skiff onto her course.
The next shark that came was a single shovel-nose.He came like a pig to the trough if a pig had a mouth so wide that you could put your head in it.The old man let him hit the fish and then drove the knife on the oar down into his brain. But the shark jerked backwards as he rolled and the knife blade snapped.
“Galanos.”he said aloud.He had seen the second fin now coming up behind the first and had identified them as shovel-nosed sharks by the brown, triangular fin and the sweeping movements of the tail.They had the scent and were excited and in the stupidity of their great hunger they were losing and finding the scent in their excitement.But they were closing all the time.
The shark was not an accident .He had come up from deep down in the water as the dark cloud of blood had settled and dispersed in the mile deep sea.He had come up so fast and absolutely without caution that he broke the surface of the blue water and was in the sun.Then he fell back into the sea and picked up the scent and started swimming on the course the skiff and the fish had taken.