He could not talk to the fish anymore because the fish had been ruined too badly.Then something came into his head.
The old man watched for him to come again but neither shark showed.Then he saw one on the surface swimming in circles.He did not see the fin of the other.
“You're tired,old man,”he said.“ You're tired inside.”
But if I had,and could have lashed it to an oar butt,what a weapon.Then we might have fought them together.What will you do now if they come in the night?What can you do?“Fight them,”he said.“ I'll fight them until I die.”
I must let the first one get a good hold and hit him on the point of the nose or straight across the top of the head,he thought.
I have all those prayers I promised if I caught the fish, he thought.But I am too tired to say them now.I better get the sack and put it over my shoulders.
One came,finally,against the head itself and he knew that it was over.He swung the tiller across the shark's head where the jaws were caught in the heaviness of the fish's head which would not tear.He swung it once and twice and again. He heard the tiller break and he lunged at the shark with the splintered butt.He felt it go in and knowing it was sharp he drove it in again.The shark let go and rolled away.That was the last shark of the pack that came.There was nothing more for them to eat.