高中語文 - 10、老人与海（节选） 海明威

教材 選必上
1

选自《老人与海》（人民文学出版社2013 年版）。李育超译。

海明威（1899—1961），美国小说家。获1954 年诺贝尔文学奖。

小说前面的情节是：老人圣地亚哥是个“背运”的渔夫，连着八十四天没有捕到鱼，第八十五天出海，经过三天两夜的搏斗，终于捕获了一条巨大的马林鱼。

他们[1]航行得很顺利，老人把双手浸在海水里，尽量保持头脑清醒。天空中的积云堆叠得很高，上方还有相当多的卷云，由此老人知道这风会刮上整整一夜。老人不时地看看那条鱼，以确信这是真的。一个小时后，第一条鲨鱼发动了袭击。

这条鲨鱼的出现并不是一个偶然。当那一大片暗沉沉的血渐渐下沉，扩散到一英里深的海水里的时候，它就从深处游了上来。鲨鱼莽莽撞撞地一下子冲过来，划破了蓝色的水面，豁然出现在太阳底下。它随即又落入海水，捕捉到血腥味。然后就顺着小船和鱼的踪迹一路追踪而来。

鲨鱼有时候嗅不到这股气味，但它总能再次找到，也许只是一丝痕迹，它就会游得飞快，紧追上去。那是一条很大的灰鲭鲨[2]，生就的游泳高手，能和海里速度最快的鱼游得一样快，除了嘴以外，它的一切都显得无比美丽。背部和剑鱼一样蓝，肚子是银白色的，鱼皮光滑漂亮。它的外形和剑鱼十分相像，除了那张大嘴。眼下它正紧闭着大嘴，在水面之下迅速地游着，高耸的背鳍像刀子一般划破水面，没有丝毫摇摆。在它那紧紧闭合的双唇里，八排牙齿全都朝里倾斜，这和大多数鲨鱼的牙齿不同，不是那种常见的金字塔形，而是像爪子一样蜷曲起来的人的手指。那些牙齿几乎和老人的手指一般长，两侧都有刀片一样锋利的切口。这种鱼天生就把海里所有的鱼作为捕食对象，它们游得那么快，体格那么强健，而且还全副武装，这样一来就所向无敌了。此时，它闻到了新鲜的血腥味，于是加快速度，蓝色的背鳍破水前进。

老人一看见它游过来，就知道这是一条毫无畏惧、肆意妄为的鲨鱼。他一面注视着鲨鱼游到近前，一面准备好渔叉，系紧绳子。绳子短了点儿，因为他割下了一段用来绑鱼。

老人此时头脑清醒好使，下定决心搏击一番，但却不抱什么希望。真是好景不长啊，他想。他盯着那条紧逼而来的鲨鱼，顺便朝那条大鱼望了一眼。这简直像是做梦一样，他想。我没法阻止它攻击我，但我也许能制服它。尖齿鲨[3]，他想，见鬼去吧。

鲨鱼飞速靠近船尾，向大鱼发起袭击。老人看着它张开了嘴，看着它那怪异的眼睛，看着它牙齿发出咔嚓一声，朝着鱼尾巴上方的肉扑咬过去。鲨鱼的头从水里钻了出来，后背也正露出海面，老人听见大鱼的皮肉被撕裂的声响，把渔叉猛地向下扎进鲨鱼的脑袋，正刺在两眼之间那条线和从鼻子直通脑后那条线的交点上。这两条线其实并不存在。真实存在的只有沉重而尖锐的蓝色鲨鱼脑袋，大大的眼睛，还有那嘎吱作响、伸向前去吞噬一切的大嘴。可那是鱼脑所在的位置，老人直刺上去。他使出全身力气，用鲜血模糊的双手把渔叉结结实实地刺了进去。他这一刺并没有抱多大希望，却带着十足的决心和恶狠狠的劲头儿。

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老人与海（木刻） 包剑斐 作

鲨鱼翻了个身，老人看出它的眼睛已经没有生气了，接着鲨鱼又翻了个身，缠上了两圈绳子。老人知道它死定了，可它还不肯听天由命。它肚皮朝上，扑打着尾巴，嘴巴嘎吱作响，像一艘快艇似的破浪前进，尾巴在海上溅起白色的浪花。它身体的四分之三都露在水面上，绳子绷得紧紧的，颤抖个不停，最后啪的一声断了。鲨鱼静静地躺在海面上，老人瞧着它，不一会儿它就慢慢沉了下去。

“它咬掉了约莫四十磅肉。”老人大声说。它把我的渔叉和所有的绳子也带走了，他想，况且我这条鱼又在淌血，别的鲨鱼也会来袭击的。

大鱼被咬得残缺不全，他都不忍心再看上一眼。鱼被袭击的时候，他感觉就像是自己受到袭击一般。

好景不长啊，他想。我现在真希望这是一场梦，希望根本没有钓上这条鱼，而是独个儿躺在床上铺的旧报纸上。

不过，攻击我这条鱼的鲨鱼被我干掉了，他想。它是我见过的最大的尖齿鲨。天知道，我可见识过不少大鱼。

“但人不是为失败而生的，”他说，“一个人可以被毁灭，但不能被打败。”我很痛心，把这鱼给杀了，他想。现在倒霉的时候就要来了，可我连渔叉都没有。尖齿鲨很残忍，而且也很能干，很强壮，很聪明。不过我比它更聪明。也许并不是这样，他想。也许只不过是我的武器比它的强。

“别想啦，老家伙，”他大声说，“顺着这条航线走吧，事到临头再对付吧。”

不过还是得琢磨琢磨，他想。因为我只剩下这件事儿可干了。这个，还有棒球。不知道了不起的迪马吉奥会不会欣赏我一举击中鲨鱼的脑袋。这也没什么大不了的，他想，谁都能行。但是，你以为我这两只受伤的手跟得了骨刺一样麻烦吗？我没法搞明白。我的脚后跟从来没出过毛病，只有一次在游泳的时候踩着一条鱼，被它刺了一下，腿的下半截都麻痹了，疼得受不了。

“想点儿高兴的事儿吧，老家伙，”他说，“你每过一分钟就离家更近一点儿。丢了四十磅鱼肉，你的船走起来能更轻快。”

他心里很明白如果驶进海流中间会发生什么事情。可是眼下一点儿办法也没有。

“不，有办法，”他大声说，“我可以把刀子绑在一支船桨的柄上。”

于是他把舵柄夹在胳膊下面，一只脚踩住帆脚索，就这么做了。

“这下好了，”他大声说，“我还是个老头儿，但可不是手无寸铁了。”

这时候，风更加强劲了，船航行得很顺利。他只看着鱼的前半部分，心里又燃起了一点儿希望。

不抱希望才愚蠢呢，他想。还有，我把这当成了一桩罪过。别去想什么罪过了，他想。眼下不说罪过，麻烦就已经够多的了，况且我对这个一无所知。

我根本就不懂什么罪过，也说不准自己是不是相信。也许杀了这条鱼是一桩罪过。我看是的，尽管是为了养活自己，让好多人有鱼吃。不过这样说来，干什么都是一种罪过。别再想什么罪过了。

现在已经晚了，再说还有人专门拿薪水干这个呢，让他们去费心吧。你天生是个渔夫，就跟鱼生来是鱼一样。（删减一句）

不过，他喜欢把所有和自己相关的事情琢磨来琢磨去，没有书报可读，也没有收音机，他就想得很多，而且还继续琢磨罪过这个问题。你杀死这条鱼不光是为了养活自己和卖给别人吃。你杀死它还是为了自尊，因为你是个渔夫。它活着的时候你敬爱它，它死了之后你也一样敬爱它。如果你敬爱它，那么杀死它就不算是罪过。要么是更大的罪过？

“你想得太多了，老家伙。”他大声说。

但是，杀死那条尖齿鲨你倒是乐在其中，他想。它跟你一样，靠吃活鱼为生。它不是食腐动物，也不像某些鲨鱼那样，游来游去只是为了填饱肚子。它美丽而崇高，无所畏惧。

“我杀了它是出于自卫，”老人大声说，“而且我干得很干净利落。”

再说，他想，从某种意义上来说，一物降一物。捕鱼能让我以此为生，也能要我的命。那男孩能让我活下去，他想。我可千万不能过于自欺欺人啊。

他把身子探出船舷，从鱼身上被鲨鱼咬过的地方撕下一块来。他嚼着鱼肉，感觉肉质很好，味道鲜美，坚实而多汁，像牲畜的肉，但颜色不红。鱼肉里也没有什么筋，他知道这在市场上能卖出顶高的价钱。可他没有办法不让鱼的气味散到水里去，老人心里清楚就要大难临头了。

微风不断地吹着，稍稍转向东北方向，他知道这意味着风力不会减弱。老人朝前面张望，看不见任何船帆，也看不见船身，或者是船上冒出的烟。只有飞鱼从船头一跃而起，向两边滑落，还有一簇簇黄色的马尾藻。他甚至连一只鸟也看不见。

他已经驾船航行了两个钟头，在船尾歇息着，时不时嚼上一点儿大马林鱼肉，尽量养精蓄锐，就在这时，他看到了两条鲨鱼中率先露面的那一条。

“呀！”他大声叫起来。这个字眼是无法翻译的，也许不过是一种声音，像是一个人感觉钉子穿过自己的双手钉进木头里的时候不由自主发出来的。

“加拉诺鲨[4]: 。”他大声说。他看见第二个鱼鳍紧跟着第一个钻出海水。从那褐色的三角形鱼鳍和甩来甩去的尾巴来看，他认出这是铲鼻鲨。这两条鲨鱼嗅到血腥味顿时兴奋起来，它们都饿傻了，兴奋得一会儿跟丢了，一会儿又嗅到了，不过始终都在逼近。

老人系紧帆脚索，卡住舵柄，然后拿起绑上了刀子的船桨，尽量轻地举起来，因为双手疼得不听使唤了。接着，他张开手，轻轻地握住船桨，双手松弛下来。他又紧紧地攥起手，让它们忍着疼痛不畏惧，一面看着鲨鱼游过来。他能看见鲨鱼那又宽又扁、像铲子一样尖利的脑袋，还有尖端呈白色的宽阔的胸鳍。这两条可恶的鲨鱼，臭气熏人，它们既是食腐动物，也是杀手，一旦饿极了，连船桨和船舵都会咬。就是这种鲨鱼，趁海龟在水面上睡觉的时候咬掉它们的腿和鳍状肢。赶上饥饿的时候，它们还会在水里袭击人，即使人身上没有鱼血或者黏液的腥味。

“呀！”老人说，“加拉诺鲨，来吧，加拉诺鲨。”

它们来了，不过它们过来的方式和灰鲭鲨不同。有一条鲨鱼转身钻到小船底下，不见了踪影，等它开始撕扯大鱼的时候，老人感到小船都在晃动。另一条用细长的黄眼睛盯着老人，随即飞快地游过来，半圆形的嘴张得大大的，朝着鱼身上被咬过的地方咬了下去。它那褐色的头顶以及脑袋和脊髓相连接的背部有一道清晰的纹路，老人把绑在船桨上的刀子朝那个交叉点刺进去，又拔出来，再刺进它那黄色的猫一样的眼睛。鲨鱼放开了大鱼，身子朝下溜，临死还吞下了咬下来的鱼肉。

另一条鲨鱼还在糟蹋大鱼，弄得小船依旧摇摆不定，老人放松了帆脚索，让小船横过来，露出船底的鲨鱼。他一看见那条鲨鱼，就探过身朝它刺去。他刺中的只是鱼身，鱼皮生硬，刀子几乎戳不进去。这下子震得他的双手和肩膀生疼。不过，那鲨鱼很快就浮上来，脑袋露出了水面，老人趁它的鼻子刚钻出水面挨上大鱼，对准它那扁平脑袋的正中间扎了下去。老人拔出刀，再朝同一个地方扎过去。它还是用嘴紧咬着大鱼不放，老人一刀戳进它的左眼，可它还是不肯走。

“还没够吗？”老人说着，把刀刃戳进鲨鱼的脊椎和脑袋之间。这下子倒是很容易，他感觉鲨鱼的软骨断裂开了。老人将船桨倒过来，把桨片插进鲨鱼的两颚之间，想撬开它的嘴。他旋转了一下桨片，鲨鱼松开嘴溜走了，他说：“走吧，加拉诺鲨。溜到一英里深的地方去吧。去看你的朋友，或者见你妈去吧。”

老人擦擦刀刃，放下船桨。然后他找到帆脚索，船帆鼓起来了，他驾着小船顺着原来的航线向前行驶。

“它们准把这鱼咬掉了四分之一，而且都是上好的肉，”他大声说，“我真希望这是一场梦，希望我压根儿没有钓上它来。鱼啊，真抱歉。这下子一切都糟透了。”他住了口，再也不想看一眼那条鱼。它的血都流尽了，又经受着海浪拍打，看上去像镜子的银白色背衬，身上的条纹依然可见。

“鱼啊，我本来就不该出海到这么远的地方，”他说，“对你对我都不好。鱼啊，真抱歉。”

算啦，他自言自语道，还是留神看看绑在刀上的绳子有没有断，再把手保养好，因为还会有鲨鱼来袭击。

“要是有块磨刀石就好了，”老人查看了一下绑在桨柄上的绳子，说，“我真该带一块来。”你该带的东西多着哪，他想。可你就是没带，老家伙。眼下可不是想自己缺什么的时候。还是想想用手头儿的东西能派什么用场吧。

“你给了我好多忠告，”他大声说，“我都听烦了。”

他把舵柄夹在胳膊下面，小船行进的时候，他把双手浸在海水里。

“天知道最后那条鲨鱼咬掉了多少鱼肉，”他说，“不过小船现在轻多了。”他不愿去想残缺不全的鱼肚子。他知道，鲨鱼每次猛撞上去，都会撕去一块肉，而且大鱼在海里给所有的鲨鱼留下了一道有公路那么宽的踪迹。

这条鱼可以够一个人过整整一冬，他想。别想这个啦。还是歇息歇息，让手好起来，保住剩下的鱼肉吧。和水里的血腥味比起来，我手上的根本不算什么。再说，手也不怎么流血了。手割破了没什么大不了的。出点儿血也许能让左手不再抽筋。

我现在能想点儿什么呢？他暗自琢磨。没什么可想的。我什么也不能想，就等着别的鲨鱼来吧。真希望这是一场梦，他想。可谁知道呢？说不定有个好结果呢。

接着是一条独自赶上来的铲鼻鲨。它那架势像是一头猪直奔食槽，要是猪能有那么大的嘴，可以让你把脑袋伸进去的话。老人任凭它袭击大鱼，紧接着把绑在船桨上的刀子刺进它的脑袋。但是鲨鱼翻滚着向后猛地一退，刀刃啪的一声断了。

老人稳定下来掌着舵，甚至不去看那条大鲨鱼在水里慢慢地下沉，开始还是原来那么大，后来越来越小，只有丁点儿大了。这种情景总让老人看得入迷，可这次他连看也不看一眼。

“现在我还有那把手钩，”他说，“可也没什么用。还有两把船桨、舵柄和那根短棍。”

这下子它们算是把我打垮了，他想，我太老了，没法用棍子打死鲨鱼了。不过只要手里还有短棍和舵柄，我就要试试看。

他又把双手浸在水里。这时候已经接近傍晚，除了大海和天空他什么也看不见。空中的风比刚才更大了，他盼望不久就能看见陆地。

“老家伙，你累了，”他说，“你从骨子里累了。”

直到太阳快落下之前，鲨鱼才再次来袭击。

老人看见几片棕色的鱼鳍正顺着大鱼在水里留下的宽阔的踪迹统游过来。它们甚至没有东闻西嗅寻找气味，就并排直奔小船而来。

他卡住舵柄，系紧帆脚索，伸手到船尾下去拿棍子。这是从一支断桨上锯下来的桨柄，大约两英尺半长。手柄很短，只有用一只手紧握着才好发力，他用右手好好攥住，时松时紧，注视着两条鲨鱼过来。两条都是加拉诺鲨。

我得等第一条紧紧咬住大鱼时，再打它的鼻尖或者直接打它的头顶，他想。

两条鲨鱼一齐紧逼而来，他一看见离他最近的一条张开嘴，咬住了大鱼银色的体侧，就高高举起棍子，重重地落下去，打在鲨鱼宽阔的脑袋顶上。棍子敲上去的时候，他觉得像是打在坚韧的橡胶上，但他也感到了坚硬的骨头。趁鲨鱼从大鱼身上往下溜的时候，他又狠狠地打在鲨鱼的鼻尖上。

另一条鲨鱼不断游进游出，这时候又张大嘴逼了上来。鲨鱼猛撞在大鱼身上，咬紧了嘴巴，老人可以看见一块块白花花的鱼肉从它的嘴角漏出来。他抡起棍子打过去，但只敲在头上，鲨鱼看看他，把咬在嘴里的肉撕扯下来。趁它溜走把肉吞下去的当儿，老人再一次抡起棍子朝它打去，却只打在橡胶一般厚实坚韧的地方。

“来吧，加拉诺鲨，”老人说，“再来吧。”

鲨鱼冲了上来，老人趁它合上嘴的时候给了它一下子。他把棍子举得高得不能再高了，结结实实地打在鲨鱼身上。这回他感觉打中了脑袋根部的骨头，接着又朝同一部位打了一下，鲨鱼有气无力地撕下嘴里叼的鱼肉，从大鱼身上出溜下去。

老人提防着它再游回来，可是两条鲨鱼都没再露面。随后他发现其中一条在海面上兜圈子，却没看见另一条鲨鱼的鳍。

我不能指望干掉它们了，他想。年轻力壮的时候倒是能办到。不过，我把它们俩都伤得不轻，没有一条身上好受。要是我用两只手抡起一根棒球棒，准能把第一条鲨鱼打死。就是现在也能行，他想。

他不想再看那条鱼。知道有一半都给毁了。就在他跟鲨鱼搏斗的时候，太阳已经落下去了。

“天就要黑了。”他自言自语道，“到时候我就能看见哈瓦那[5]的灯光了。要是朝东走得太远，就能看见一片新开辟的海滩上的灯光。”

现在离陆地不会太远了，他想。但愿没人太为我担心。当然啦，只有那男孩会担心。不过，我相信他会对我有信心。好多上了岁数的渔夫也会为我担心，还有不少别的人也会的，他想。我住在一个人心善良的镇子里啊。

他没法再跟鱼说话了，因为鱼已经破损得不成样子。接着他又想起了什么。

“半条鱼，”他说，“你原来是一整条。很抱歉，我出海太远了。我把咱们俩都毁了。不过，咱们杀死了好多条鲨鱼呢，你和我一起，还打垮了好多条。你杀死过多少啊，鱼老弟？你头上的长矛可不是白长的啊。”

他喜欢想这条鱼，想着它如果能自由游弋，会怎样对付一条鲨鱼。我应该砍下鱼嘴，用来跟鲨鱼搏斗，他想。但我没有斧头，后来连刀也没有了。

不过，我要是砍下了鱼嘴，就能把它绑在桨柄上，那该是多好的武器啊。这样我们也许就能一块儿跟它们斗了。要是夜里来了鲨鱼，该怎么办？能有什么办法？

“跟它们斗，”他说，“我要跟它们一直斗到死。”

可是，现在一片漆黑，不见光亮，也没有灯火，只有风在吹，船帆稳稳地把小船拖向前去，他觉得说不定自己已经死了。他把双手合在一起，手掌相互摩挲着。这双手没有死，只要一张一合，就能感到活生生的疼痛。他的后背靠在船尾，他知道自己没有死，这是他的肩膀感觉到的。

我许过愿，如果逮住了这条鱼，要念那么多遍祈祷文，他想。可我现在太累了，没法念。我还是把麻袋拿来披在肩上吧。

他躺在船尾掌着舵，等待天空出现亮光。我还有半条鱼，他想。也许我走运，能把前半条带回去呢。我总该有点儿运气吧。不会的。他说，你出海太远了，你的好运气都给毁了。

“别犯傻了，”他大声说，“还是清醒着点儿，掌好舵吧。兴许你还能交上好大的运气呢。”

“要是有地方卖的话，我倒想买些运气。”他说。

我能拿什么来买呢？他问自己。用一支搞丢了的渔叉、一把折断的刀子，还有一双损坏的手能买来吗？

“也许你能行，”他说，“你试着用连续出海八十四天换来好运气，人家差一点儿就卖给你了。”

绝对不能胡思乱想，他暗自琢磨。好运这玩意儿，出现的形式多种多样。谁能认得准啊？可不管是什么样的好运，不管付出什么代价，我都想要一点儿。但愿我能看到灯火的亮光，他想。我希望得到的东西太多了。眼下只希求一样。他尽量坐得舒服些掌着舵，知道自己没有死，因为身上还在疼。

他看见城市灯光的倒影，肯定是在夜里10 点钟左右。起初只是依稀可见，就像月亮升起之前的微弱天光。随后，隔着随风力变大而汹涌起的海洋，那光亮也越来越清晰。他驶进光影里，心想，要不了多久就能到达海流的边缘了。

这下事情就要过去了，他想。不过，它们可能还会来袭击我。一个人在黑暗中手无寸铁，怎么对付它们呢？

这时候，他浑身僵硬、酸痛，在夜晚的寒气里，身上的伤口和所有用力过度的地方都让他感到疼痛。但愿不用再搏斗了，他想，真希望不用再搏斗了。

但是，到了半夜，他又上阵了，而且这次他心里明白，搏斗也是徒劳。鲨鱼成群结队地游了过来，直扑向大鱼，他只能看见鱼鳍在水面上划出的一道道线痕，还有它们身上的鳞光。他用棍子朝鲨鱼的头直打过去，听到几张鱼嘴咬啮的声响，还有它们在船底下咬住大鱼，让小船来回摇晃的声音。他只能凭感觉和听觉拼死拼活地一顿棍棒打下去，觉得棍子被什么东西抓住了，就这么丢了武器。

他把舵柄猛地从舵上扭下来，用它乱打乱砍一气，双手紧攥着，一次又一次地猛砸下去。但是此时鲨鱼已经来到了船头，一个接着一个，或者成群扑上来，撕咬下一块块鱼肉，它们转身再来的时候，鱼肉在水面下闪着亮光。

最后，有条鲨鱼朝鱼头扑来，他知道这下子全完了。他抡起舵柄砸向鲨鱼头，正打在它的嘴上，那嘴卡在沉甸甸的鱼头上，撕咬不下。他又接二连三地抡起舵柄。他听见舵柄断了，就用断裂的手柄刺向鲨鱼。他感到手柄刺了进去，知道它很尖利，就接着再刺。鲨鱼松开嘴，翻滚着游走了。这是来犯的鲨鱼群中的最后一条。已经没有什么可让它们吃的了。

老人这时候差点儿喘不过气来，感觉嘴里有股怪味儿，那是一股铜腥味儿，甜腻腻的，他一时有些害怕，不过那味道并不太重。

他往海里啐了一口，说：“吃吧，加拉诺鲨，做个梦吧，梦见你杀了一个人。”

他知道自己终于被击垮了，无法挽回，他回到船尾，发现舵柄的一头尽管参差不齐，还是能塞进舵孔，让他凑合着掌舵。他把麻袋围在肩膀上，驾着小船起航了。他很轻松地驾着船，没有任何想法和感觉。此时，他已经超脱了一切，只是尽心尽力地把小船驶回家去。夜里，有些鲨鱼来袭击大鱼的残骸，就像人从餐桌上捡面包屑一样。老人毫不理睬，除了掌舵以外，什么都不在意。他只注意到，没有了船边的重负，小船行驶得那么轻快，那么平稳。

船还是好好的，他想。除了船舵，它还算是完好无损。船舵是很容易更换的。

image
老人与海（木刻） 包剑斐 作

他感觉自己已经到了海流中间，可以看见沿岸的海滩村落里的灯光。他知道现在到了什么地方，回家已经毫不费力了。

不管怎么说，风是我们的朋友，他想。接着他又想，那是有时候。还有大海，海里有我们的朋友，也有我们的敌人。还有床，他想。床是我的朋友。就是床，他想。床是一件很不错的东西。你给打垮了，反倒轻松了，他想。我从来不知道竟会这么轻松。是什么把你给打垮了呢，他想。

“没有什么把我打垮，”他大声说，“都是因为我出海太远了。”

等他驶进小港，露台饭店的灯光已经熄灭，他知道大家都上床歇息了。先前的微风越刮越大，此时已经非常强劲。不过，海港里静悄悄的，他驾船来到岩石下面的一小片沙石滩。没人帮忙，他只好一个人把船尽可能往上拖，随后跨出来，把小船紧紧地系在一块岩石上。

他取下桅杆，卷起船帆捆好，然后扛着桅杆开始往岸上爬。这会儿他才知道自己有多么累。他停下来站了一会儿，回头望望，借着街灯反射的光亮，他看见那条鱼的大尾巴直竖着，好长一段拖在船尾后面。他看到鱼的脊骨裸露出来，呈一条白线，脑袋漆黑一团，伸出长长的嘴，头尾之间却光秃秃的，什么也没有。

他又开始往上爬，到了顶上一下子摔倒在地，他躺了一会儿，桅杆横压在肩上。他努力想要站起身来，但这太难了，就扛着桅杆坐在那儿，朝大路那边望去。一只猫从路对面走过，忙活着自己的事儿，老人定睛看了看它，又把目光投向大路。

他终于放下桅杆，站了起来。他拿起桅杆扛在肩上，顺着大路走去，一路上坐下歇了五次，才走回自己的小棚屋。

进了棚屋，他把桅杆靠在墙上，摸黑找到一个水瓶，喝了口水。随后他躺在床上，把毯子拉过来盖住肩膀，又盖住后背和双腿，他脸朝下趴在报纸上，胳膊伸直，掌心朝上。

“一个人可以被毁灭，但不能被打败。”这句激励了无数人的话，正是出自《老人与海》。这篇小说展现了人与自然之间一场惊心动魄的搏斗。一个孤单的老人，面对险恶的大海，力量对比是悬殊的，结果似乎也是不言而喻的；然而，小说却通过接踵而至的搏斗，展现出一种永不言败的精神。阅读时，要围绕老人这一失败英雄的形象及其象征意义，体会小说所赞颂的“人的灵魂的尊严”（海明威《致华莱士·梅耶》）。

早年做新闻记者的经历，使海明威拥有了一种“非同寻常的艺术自觉”（1954年诺贝尔文学奖颁奖词）。他的小说语言凝练而又精当，少有修饰，往往用朴素的语句直接呈现场景和形象，却充满内在张力，令人印象深刻。细读作品中描写的老人与鲨鱼五个回合的搏斗场景，感受小说冷静、密实的叙事风格，体会作品是如何通过一个个富有活力的细节推动情节发展，最终产生震撼人心的力量的。文中还有大量的内心独白，找出来读一读，体会其对表现人物性格和揭示小说主题的作用。

This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://sites.google.com/view/pkuschool/cover3/%e7%ac%ac%e4%b8%89%e5%8d%95%e5%85%83/10%e8%80%81%e4%ba%ba%e4%b8%8e%e6%b5%b7%e8%8a%82%e9%80%89-%e6%b5%b7%e6%98%8e%e5%a8%81

  1. 指老人、渔船及他所捕获的、拴在渔船上的大马林鱼。 ↩︎

  2. 〔灰鲭（qīng）鲨〕软骨鱼纲鼠鲨目的一种鲨鱼。背部青色，性情凶猛，善追逐。 ↩︎

  3. 这是当地对灰鲭鲨的俗称。原文为Dentuso，西班牙语，意思是“牙齿锋利的”。 ↩︎

  4. 铲鼻鲨的俗称。原文为Galano，西班牙语。 ↩︎

  5. 古巴首都，位于墨西哥湾入口处。海明威一生中三分之一的时间都在这里度过。这里也是小说主人公圣地亚哥的居住地。 ↩︎

Last edited by @suen 2024-08-17T05:40:22Z

2

@Creative_bot 分析文本中的負面情緒和正面情緒，要細節，多舉例。基於這些情緒，分析人物。

4

这段文字的情绪可以分为两个鲜明的部分：

正面情绪:

  • 平静和希望: “They sailed well” 和 “the old man knew the breeze would last all night” 这两句体现出一种平静祥和的氛围。老人对航行的顺利感到欣慰，并且对未来的航程充满希望，因为他知道微风会持续整晚。
  • 坚韧和决心: “the old man soaked his hands in the salt water and tried to keep his head clear” 即使面对挑战，老人依然保持着坚韧的意志和清醒的头脑。他积极地应对眼前的困难，努力保持最佳状态。
  • 谨慎和专注: “The old man looked at the fish constantly to make sure it was true.” 这句话展现了老人的谨慎和专注。他时刻关注着猎物，确保自己的努力没有白费，体现出他对成功的渴望和对细节的重视。

负面情绪:

  • 突如其来的危险和恐惧: “It was an hour before the first shark hit him.” 这句简短有力，预示着危险的来临。平静的氛围被打破，取而代之的是紧张和恐惧。鲨鱼的出现象征着不可预知的威胁，给读者带来强烈的不安感。

人物分析:

  • 经验丰富的渔民: 老人对天气和海洋有着敏锐的观察力，他知道如何利用自然条件。
  • 坚韧不拔的斗士: 即使面对挑战和危险，他依然保持着冷静和决心，展现出他顽强的意志。
  • 谨慎而专注: 他时刻保持警惕，对细节一丝不苟，体现出他作为一名优秀渔民的专业素养。

总而言之，这段文字通过描写平静祥和的氛围和突如其来的危险，以及老人面对挑战的态度，塑造了一个经验丰富、坚韧不拔、谨慎专注的渔民形象。鲨鱼的出现预示着故事即将进入新的阶段，也暗示着老人即将面临更大的挑战。

5

列舉原文中負面情緒詞彙表

6

原文中直接表达负面情绪的词汇只有一个：

  • hit - 这个词通常带有攻击性和暴力色彩，在这里描绘了鲨鱼的凶猛和对老人的威胁，营造出紧张和危险的氛围。

虽然原文中没有直接出现其他明显的负面情绪词汇，但“It was an hour before the first shark hit him.” 这句话本身就暗示了一种不安和恐惧的情绪，因为读者都知道鲨鱼的出现意味着危险和冲突即将到来。

7

以鯊魚的視角轉述本書

8

我，名为“利刃”的大白鲨，巡游在这片熟悉的海域已经数十年了。海水是我的游乐场，阳光透过海面照射进来，为我的狩猎游戏增添了一丝光明。我嗅到了一丝不同寻常的味道，一种混合着血腥味和挣扎气息的味道，这味道让我兴奋。我摆动着尾巴，朝着味道的源头游去，那里，一个渺小的身影正在海面上漂浮。

我看到了他，一个人类，他身边绑着一个巨大的家伙，那东西已经失去了生命的气息，散发着浓重的血腥味，这味道对我来说就像最甜美的蜜糖。我绕着他们游动，观察着，那个小小的人类看起来疲惫不堪，但他依然紧紧抓着绳子，不肯放弃他的猎物，真是可笑。

我张开嘴，露出锋利的牙齿，那是我的武器，也是我生存的工具。我感受着海水从我的牙齿间流过，我知道，是时候结束这场猫捉老鼠的游戏了。我猛地冲向那个巨大的家伙，用尽全力撕咬，鲜血染红了周围的海水，也激起了我内心深处的狂暴。

我知道，那个人类在害怕，我能感受到他颤抖的身体和惊恐的眼神。但他依然不肯放弃，他挥舞着手中的武器，试图阻止我，真是不自量力。这场战斗才刚刚开始，我不会轻易放弃我的猎物，我会用我的利刃，撕碎一切阻挡在我面前的障碍。

这片海洋，终究是属于我们的，强者生存，弱肉强食，这是亘古不变的法则。

9

已阅，文中的视角看着有点乱

10

震撼

11

鸠摩罗什译《众经撰杂譬喻经》卷上：

一切众生贪著世乐，不虑无常，不以大患为苦。譬如若有一人遭事应死，系在牢狱，恐死而逃走。国法若有死囚喻狱走者，即放狂象令蹈杀。于是放狂象令逐此罪囚。囚见象欲至，走入墟井中。下有一大毒龙张口向上，复四毒蛇在井四边。有一草根，此囚怖畏，一心急捉此草根。复有两白鼠啮此草根。时井上有一大树，树中有蜜。一日之中，有一滴蜜堕此人口中。其人得此一滴，但忆此蜜，不复忆种种众苦，便不复欲出此井。[25]533

《维摩诘经》卷一《方便品》维摩诘说：“是身如丘井，为老所逼。”《注维摩诘经》卷二引罗什曰：

昔有人有罪于王，其人怖罪逃走，王令醉象逐之。其人怖急，自投枯井。半井得一腐草，以手执之。下有恶龙，吐毒向之，傍有五毒蛇复加害。二鼠啮草，草复将断。大象临其上，复欲取之。其人危苦，极大恐怖。上有一树，树上时有蜜滴落其口中，以著味故，而忘怖畏。[26]342

唐义净译《譬喻经》记载了佛陀所说的一则与上面两处故事性质、内容相近，而更有意味更加完善的譬喻故事：

乃往过去，于无量劫，时有一人，游于旷野，为恶象所逐，怖走无依，见一空井，傍有树根。即寻根下，潜身井中。有黑白二鼠，互啮树根。于井四边有四毒蛇，欲螫其人，下有毒龙。心畏龙蛇，恐树根断。树有蜂蜜，五滴堕口，树摇蜂散，下螫斯人。野火复来，烧然此树。[27]801

上引故事中一个在旷野游玩的人遭遇大象的追逐，情急之下，他沿着一棵树躲到了一座空井之中。但有黑白两只老鼠在啮咬着树根，上方的树随时有可能倒下；井壁四边有四条毒蛇，随时可能咬死井中之人；下方又有一条毒龙。在此困苦之时，井中之人却尝到了树上滴下来的五滴蜂蜜。在短暂的甘甜之后，根部松动的树开始动摇，吓散了树上的蜜蜂，它们纷纷向下叮咬井中之人，紧接着野火把枯树烧着了。井中之人的困苦境况，可以想见。

佛陀解释了这则譬喻故事的用意，其中旷野比喻无明，人即是众生，象比喻无常，井比喻生死，树根比喻人命，黑白二鼠比喻白天黑夜，啮树根比喻心念衰灭，四毒蛇比喻地水火风四大，五滴蜜比喻五欲，蜜蜂比喻人的邪思，火比喻老病，毒龙比喻死亡。此故事告诉人们不能被眼耳鼻舌身五欲所吞没，应当摆脱五欲，应当解了生老病死的人生之苦甚可怖畏。

美国汉学家葛瑞汉分析庄子思想时说：“苦难并没有占据庄子及任何前佛教时期中国思想家的思想。像其他人一样，他既不是乐观主义者也不是悲观主义者，他认为悲痛和欢乐的交替有如日夜或死生那样乃理所当然。”[28]202、237葛瑞汉的话很能说明问题，也就是说，佛教四谛说所揭示的人生是痛苦的思想在佛教进入之前的中国思想传统中是未曾有过的。
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12

看看英语原文

13

我找到了一些英文版本的譬喻故事，但它们并不是来自同一个出处，而是散落在不同的佛经翻译和研究著作中。我将它们整合在一起，并尽量还原故事的完整性：

The Parable of the Well

Once upon a time, countless eons ago, a man was wandering through a vast wilderness. He was pursued by a ferocious elephant, terrified and with nowhere to run. He spotted an empty well with a tree growing beside it. He quickly climbed down the tree’s roots and hid himself in the well.

But alas, a black rat and a white rat were gnawing at the tree’s roots. On the four sides of the well were four poisonous snakes, ready to strike. At the bottom of the well lurked a venomous dragon. The man feared the dragon and snakes, and he was terrified that the tree roots would give way.

Just then, from the tree above, five drops of honey fell into his mouth. The sweetness momentarily distracted him from his fear. But as the tree swayed, the bees nesting there were disturbed and swarmed down to sting him. Then a wildfire ignited, engulfing the withered tree in flames. The man’s plight was truly dreadful.

The Buddha’s Explanation

The Buddha explained the meaning of this parable:

  • The wilderness represents ignorance.
  • The man represents all sentient beings.
  • The elephant represents impermanence.
  • The well represents the cycle of birth and death.
  • The tree roots represent human life.
  • The black and white rats represent day and night.
  • The gnawing of the roots represents the decline of life and mindfulness.
  • The four poisonous snakes represent the four elements: earth, water, fire, and wind.
  • The five drops of honey represent the five desires.
  • The bees represent evil thoughts.
  • The fire represents old age and sickness.
  • The venomous dragon represents death.

This story teaches us that we should not be consumed by the five desires of the senses. We should strive to free ourselves from these desires and to overcome the suffering of birth, old age, sickness, and death.

这段英文版本涵盖了故事的全部要素，包括人物、场景、情节以及佛陀的解释。通过阅读这段文字，英语读者也可以理解这个譬喻故事的寓意，并体会到佛教关于人生苦难和解脱的思想。

希望以上内容能够帮助您理解这个譬喻故事。

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They sailed well and the old man soaked his hands in the salt water and tried to keep his head clear. There were high cumulus clouds and enough cirrus above them so that the old man knew the breeze would last all night. The old man looked at the fish constantly to make sure it was true. It was an hour before the first shark hit him.

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.

Sometimes he lost the scent. But he would pick it up again, or have just a trace of it, and he swam fast and hard on the course. He was a very big Mako shark built to swim as fast as the fastest fish in the sea and everything about him was beautiful except his jaws.

His back was as blue as a sword fish’s and his belly was silver and his hide was smooth and handsome. He was built as a sword fish except for his huge jaws which were tight shut now as he swam fast, just under the surface with his high dorsal fin knifing through the water without wavering. Inside the closed double lip of his jaws all of his eight rows of teeth were slanted inwards. They were not the ordinary pyramid-shaped teeth of most sharks. They were shaped like a man’s fingers when they are crisped like claws. They were nearly as long as the fingers of the old man and they had razor-sharp cutting edges on both sides. This was a fish built to feed on all the fishes in the sea, that were so fast and strong and well armed that they had no other enemy. Now he speeded up as he smelled the fresher scent and his blue dorsal fin cut the water.

When the old man saw him coming he knew that this was a shark that had no fear at all and would do exactly what he wished. He prepared the harpoon and made the rope fast while he watched the shark come on. The rope was short as it lacked what he had cut away to lash the fish.

The old man’s head was clear and good now and he was full of resolution but he had little hope. It was too good to last, he thought. He took one look at the great fish as he watched the shark close in. It might as well have been a dream, he thought. I cannot keep him from hitting me but maybe I can get him. Dentuso, he thought. Bad luck to your mother.

The shark closed fast astern and when he hit the fish the old man saw his mouth open and his strange eyes and the clicking chop of the teeth as he drove forward in the meat just above the tail. The shark’s head was out of water and his back was coming out and the old man could hear the noise of skin and flesh ripping on the big fish when he rammed the harpoon down onto the shark’s head at a spot where the line between his eyes intersected with the line that ran straight back from his nose. There were no such lines. There was only the heavy sharp blue head and the big eyes and the clicking, thrusting all-swallowing jaws. But that was the location of the brain and the old man hit it. He hit it with his blood mushed hands driving a good harpoon with all his strength. He hit it without hope but with resolution and complete malignancy.

The shark swung over and the old man saw his eye was not alive and then he swung over once again, wrapping himself in two loops of the rope. The old man knew that he was dead but the shark would not accept it. Then, on his back, with his tail lashing and his jaws clicking, the shark plowed over the water as a speed-boat does. The water was white where his tail beat it and three-quarters of his body was clear above the water when the rope came taut, shivered, and then snapped. The shark lay quietly for a little while on the surface and the old man watched him. Then he went down very slowly.

“He took about forty pounds,” the old man said aloud. He took my harpoon too and all the rope, he thought, and now my fish bleeds again and there will be others.

He did not like to look at the fish anymore since he had been mutilated. When the fish had been hit it was as though he himself were hit.

But I killed the shark that hit my fish, he thought. And he was the biggest dentuso that I have ever seen. And God knows that I have seen big ones.

It was too good to last, he thought. I wish it had been a dream now and that I had never hooked the fish and was alone in bed on the newspapers.

“But man is not made for defeat,” he said. “A man can be destroyed but not defeated.” I am sorry that I killed the fish though, he thought. Now the bad time is coming and I do not even have the harpoon. The dentuso is cruel and able and strong and intelligent. But I was more intelligent that he was. Perhaps not, he thought. Perhaps I was only better armed.

“Don’t think, old man,” he said aloud. “Sail on this course and take it when it comes.”

But I must think, he thought. Because it is all I have left. That and baseball. I wonder how the great DiMaggio would have liked the way I hit him in the brain? It was no great thing, he thought. Any man could do it. But do you think my hands were as great a handicap as the bone spurs? I cannot know. I never had anything wrong with my heel except the time the sting ray stung it when I stepped on him when swimming and paralyzed the lower leg and made the unbearable pain.

“Think about something cheerful, old man,” he said. “Every minute now you are closer to home. You sail lighter for the loss of forty pounds.”

He knew quite well the pattern of what could happen when he reached the inner part of the current. But there was nothing to be done now.

“Yes there is,” he said aloud. “I can lash my knife to the butt of one of the oars.”

So he did that with the tiller under his arm and the sheet of the sail under his foot.

“Now,” he said. “I am still an old man. But I am not unarmed.”

The breeze was fresh now and he sailed on well. He watched only the forward part of the fish and some of his hope returned.

It is silly not to hope, he thought. Besides I believe it is a sin. Do not think about sin, he thought. There are enough problems now without sin. Also I have no understanding of it.

I have no understanding of it and I am not sure that I believe in it. Perhaps it was a sin to kill the fish. I suppose it was even though I did it to keep me alive and feed many people. But then everything is a sin. Do not think about sin. It is much too late for that and there are people who are paid to do it. Let them think about it. You were born to be a fisherman as the fish was born to be a fish. San Pedro was a fisherman as was the father of the great DiMaggio.

But he liked to think about all things that he was involved in and since there was nothing to read and he did not have a radio, he thought much and he kept on thinking about sin. You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he thought. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. It you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?

“You think too much, old man,” he said aloud.

But you enjoyed killing the dentuso, he thought. He lives on the live fish as you do. He is not a scavenger nor just a moving appetite as some sharks are. He is beautiful and noble and knows no fear of anything.

“I killed him in self-defense,” the old man said aloud. “And I killed him well.”

Besides, he thought, everything kills everything else in some way. Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The boy keeps me alive, he thought. I must not deceive myself too much.

He leaned over the side and pulled loose a piece of the meat of the fish where the shark had cut him. He chewed it and noted its quality and its good taste. It was firm and juicy, like meat, but it was not red. There was no stringiness in it and he knew that it would bring the highest price in the market. But there was no way to keep its scent out of the water and the old man knew that a very bad time was coming.

The breeze was steady. It had backed a little further into the north-east and he knew that meant that it would not fall off. The old man looked ahead of him but he could see no sails nor could he see the hull nor the smoke of any ship. There were only the flying fish that went up from his bow sailing away to either side and the yellow patches of gulf-weed. He could not even see a bird.

He had sailed for two hours, resting in the stern and sometimes chewing a bit of the meat from the marlin, trying to rest and to be strong, when he saw the first of the two sharks.

“Ay,” he said aloud. There is no translation for this word and perhaps it is just a noise such as a man might make, involuntarily, feeling the nail go through his hands and into the wood.

“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 old man made the sheet fast and jammed the tiller. Then he took up the oar with the knife lashed to it. He lifted it as lightly as he could because his hands rebelled at the pain. Then he opened and closed them on it lightly to loosen them. He closed them firmly so they would take the pain now and would not flinch and watched the sharks come. He could see their wide, flattened, shovel-pointed heads now and their white-tipped wide pectoral fins. They were hateful sharks, bad smelling, scavengers as well as killers, and when they were hungry they would bite at an oar or the rudder of a boat. It was these sharks that would cut the turtles’ legs and flippers off when the turtles were asleep on the surface, and they would hit a man in the water, if they were hungry, even if the man had no smell of fish blood nor of fish slime on him.

“Ay,” the old man said. “Galanos. Come on, Galanos.”

They came. But they did not come as the Mako had come. One turned and went out of sight under the skiff and the old man could feel the skiff shake as he jerked and pulled on the fish. The other watched the old man with his slitted yellow eyes and then came in fast with his half circle of jaws wide to hit the fish where he had already been bitten. The line showed clearly on the top of his brown head and back where the brain joined the spinal cord and the old man drove the knife on the oar into the juncture, withdrew it, and drove it in again into the shark’s yellow cat-like eyes. The shark let go of the fish and slid down, swallowing what he had taken as he died.

The skiff was still shaking with the destruction the other shark was doing to the fish and the old man let go the sheet so that the skiff would swing broadside and bring the shark out from under. When he saw the shark he leaned over the side and punched at him. He hit only meat and the hide was set hard and he barely got the knife in. The blow hurt not only his hands but his shoulder too. But the shark came up fast with his head out and the old man hit him squarely in the center of his flat-topped head as his nose came out of water and lay against the fish. The old man withdrew the blade and punched the shark exactly in the same spot again. He still hung to the fish with his jaws hooked and the old man stabbed him in his left eye. The shark still hung there.

“No?” the old man said and he drove the blade between the vertebrae and the brain. It was an easy shot now and he felt the cartilage sever. The old man reversed the oar and put the blade between the shark’s jaws to open them. He twisted the blade and as the shark slid loose he said, “Go on, galano. Slide down a mile deep. Go see your friend, or maybe it’s your mother.”

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.

“They must have taken a quarter of him and of the best meat,” he said aloud. “I wish it were a dream and that I had never hooked him. I’m sorry about it, fish. It makes everything wrong.” He stopped and he did not want to look at the fish now. Drained of blood and awash he looked the colour of the silver backing of a mirror and his stripes still showed.

“I shouldn’t have gone out so far, fish,” he said. “Neither for you nor for me. I’m sorry, fish.”

Now, he said to himself. Look to the lashing on the knife and see if it has been cut. Then get your hand in order because there still is more to come.

“I wish I had a stone for the knife,” the old man said after he had checked the lashing on the oar butt. “I should have brought a stone.” You should have brought many things, he thought. But you did not bring them, old man. Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.

“You give me much good counsel,” he said aloud. “I’m tired of it.”

He held the tiller under his arm and soaked both his hands in the water as the skiff drove forward.

“God knows how much that last one took,” he said. “But she’s much lighter now.” He did not want to think of the mutilated under-side of the fish. He knew that each of the jerking bumps of the shark had been meat torn away and that the fish now made a trail for all sharks as wide as a highway through the sea.

He was a fish to keep a man all winter, he thought. Don’t think of that. Just rest and try to get your hands in shape to defend what is left of him. The blood smell from my hands means nothing now with all that scent in the water. Besides they do not bleed much. There is nothing cut that means anything. The bleeding may keep the left from cramping.

What can I think of now? he thought. Nothing. I must think of nothing and wait for the next ones. I wish it had really been a dream, he thought. But who knows? It might have turned out well.

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.

The old man settled himself to steer. He did not even watch the big shark sinking slowly in the water, showing first life-size, then small, then tiny. That always fascinated the old man. But he did not even watch it now.

“I have the gaff now,” he said. “But it will do no good. I have the two oars and the tiller and the short club.”

Now they have beaten me, he thought. I am too old to club sharks to death. But I will try it as long as I have the oars and the short club and the tiller.

He put his hands in the water again to soak them. It was getting late in the afternoon and he saw nothing but the sea and the sky. There was more wind in the sky than there had been, and soon he hoped that he would see land.

“You’re tired, old man,” he said. “You’re tired inside.”

The sharks did not hit him again until just before sunset.

The old man saw the brown fins coming along the wide trail the fish must make in the water. They were not even quartering on the scent. They were headed straight for the skiff swimming side by side.

He jammed the tiller, made the sheet fast and reached under the stern for the club. It was an oar handle from a broken oar sawed off to about two and a half feet in length. He could only use it effectively with one hand because of the grip of the handle and he took good hold of it with his right hand, flexing his hand on it, as he watched the sharks come. They were both galanos.

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.

The two sharks closed together and as he saw the one nearest him open his jaws and sink them into the silver side of the fish, he raised the club high and brought it down heavy and slamming onto the top of the shark’s broad head. He felt the rubbery solidity as the club came down. But he felt the rigidity of bone too and he struck the shark once more hard across the point of the nose as he slid down from the fish.

The other shark had been in and out and now came in again with his jaws wide. The old man could see pieces of the meat of the fish spilling white from the corner of his jaws as he bumped the fish and closed his jaws. He swung at him and hit only the head and the shark looked at him and wrenched the meat loose. The old man swung the club down on him again as he slipped away to swallow and hit only the heavy solid rubberiness.

“Come on, galano,” the old man said. “Come in again.”

The shark came in a rush and the old man hit him as he shut his jaws. He hit him solidly and from as high up as he could raise the club. This time he felt the bone at the base of the brain and he hit him again in the same place while the shark tore the meat loose sluggishly and slid down from the fish.

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.

I could not expect to kill them, he thought. I could have in my time. But I have hurt them both badly and neither one can feel very good. If I could have used a bat with two hands I could have killed the first one surely. Even now, he thought.

He did not want to look at the fish. He knew that half of him had been destroyed. The sun had gone down while he had been in the fight with the sharks.

“It will be dark soon,” he said. “Then I should see the glow of Havana. If I am too far to the eastward I will see the lights of one of the new beaches.”

I cannot be too far out now, he thought. I hope no one has been too worried. There is only the boy to worry, of course. But I am sure he would have confidence. Many of the older fishermen will worry. Many others too, he thought. I live in a good town.

He could not talk to the fish anymore because the fish had been ruined too badly. Then something came into his head.

“Half fish,” he said. “Fish that you were. I am sorry that I went too far out. I ruined us both. But we have killed many sharks, you and I, and ruined many others. How many did you ever kill, old fish? You do not have that spear on your head for nothing.”

He liked to think of the fish and what he could do to a shark if he were swimming free. I should have chopped the bill off to fight them with, he thought. But there was no hatchet and then there was no knife.

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.”

But in the dark now and no glow showing and no lights and only the wind and the steady pull of the sail he felt that perhaps he was already dead. He put his two hands together and felt the palms. They were not dead and he could bring the pain of life by simply opening and closing them. He leaned his back against the stern and knew he was not dead. His shoulders told him.

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.

He lay in the stern and steered and watched for the glow to come in the sky. I have half of him, he thought. Maybe I’ll have the luck to bring the forward half in. I should have some luck. No, he said. You violated your luck when you went too far outside.

“Don’t be silly,” he said aloud. “And keep awake and steer. You may have much luck yet.”

“I’d like to buy some if there’s any place they sell it,” he said.

What could I buy it with? he asked himself. Could I buy it with a lost harpoon and a broken knife and two bad hands?

“You might,” he said. “You tried to buy it with eighty-four days at sea. They nearly sold it to you too.”

I must not think nonsense, he thought. Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her? I would take some though in any form and pay what they asked. I wish I could see the glow from the lights, he thought. I wish too many things. But that is the thing I wish for now. He tried to settle more comfortably to steer and from his pain he knew he was not dead.

He saw the reflected glare of the lights of the city at what must have been around ten o’clock at night. They were only perceptible at first as the light is in the sky before the moon rises. Then they were steady to see across the ocean which was rough now with the increasing breeze. He steered inside of the glow and he thought that now, soon, he must hit the edge of the stream.

Now it is over, he thought. They will probably hit me again. But what can a man do against them in the dark without a weapon?

He was stiff and sore now and his wounds and all of the strained parts of his body hurt with the cold of the night. I hope I do not have to fight again, he thought. I hope so much I do not have to fight again.

But by midnight he fought and this time he knew the fight was useless. They came in a pack and he could only see the lines in the water that their fins made and their phosphorescence as they threw themselves on the fish. He clubbed at heads and heard the jaws chop and the shaking of the skiff as they took hold below. He clubbed desperately at what he could only feel and hear and he felt something seize the club and it was gone.

He jerked the tiller free from the rudder and beat and chopped with it, holding it in both hands and driving it down again and again. But they were up to the bow now and driving in one after the other and together, tearing off the pieces of meat that showed glowing below the sea as they turned to come once more.

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.

The old man could hardly breathe now and he felt a strange taste in his mouth. It was coppery and sweet and he was afraid of it for a moment. But there was not much of it.

He spat into the ocean and said, “Eat that, Galanos. And make a dream you’ve killed a man.”

He knew he was beaten now finally and without remedy and he went back to the stern and found the jagged end of the tiller would fit in the slot of the rudder well enough for him to steer. He settled the sack around his shoulders and put the skiff on her course. He sailed lightly now and he had no thoughts nor any feelings of any kind. He was past everything now and he sailed the skiff to make his home port as well and as intelligently as he could. In the night sharks hit the carcass as someone might pick up crumbs from the table. The old man paid no attention to them and did not pay any attention to anything except steering. He only noticed how lightly and how well the skiff sailed now there was no great weight beside her.

She’s good, he thought. She is sound and not harmed in any way except for the tiller. That is easily replaced.

He could feel he was inside the current now and he could see the lights of the beach colonies along the shore. He knew where he was now and it was nothing to get home.

The wind is our friend, anyway, he thought. Then he added, sometimes. And the great sea with our friends and our enemies. And bed, he thought. Bed is my friend. Just bed, he thought. Bed will be a great thing. It is easy when you are beaten, he thought. I never knew how easy it was. And what beat you, he thought.

“Nothing,” he said aloud. “I went out too far.”

When he sailed into the little harbour the lights of the Terrace were out and he knew everyone was in bed. The breeze had risen steadily and was blowing strongly now. It was quiet in the harbour though and he sailed up onto the little patch of shingle below the rocks. There was no one to help him so he pulled the boat up as far as he could. Then he stepped out and made her fast to a rock.

He unstepped the mast and furled the sail and tied it. Then he shouldered the mast and started to climb. It was then he knew the depth of his tiredness. He stopped for a moment and looked back and saw in the reflection from the street light the great tail of the fish standing up well behind the skiff’s stern. He saw the white naked line of his backbone and the dark mass of the head with the projecting bill and all the nakedness between.

He started to climb again and at the top he fell and lay for some time with the mast across his shoulder. He tried to get up. But it was too difficult and he sat there with the mast on his shoulder and looked at the road. A cat passed on the far side going about its business and the old man watched it. Then he just watched the road.

Finally he put the mast down and stood up. He picked the mast up and put it on his shoulder and started up the road. He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.

Inside the shack he leaned the mast against the wall. In the dark he found a water bottle and took a drink. Then he lay down on the bed. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and then over his back and legs and he slept face down on the newspapers with his arms out straight and the palms of his hands up.

15

基本上看的懂，难词不多，海明威的语言在英语作家中算是平易近人的？

16

已读，感觉老人与海给人的一种感觉，就是不停的绝望，但是一次次的鼓励自己，这样的循环读起来可能自己比圣地亚哥难受，而且直接的心理描写很多，这种只剩自我的鼓励来维持清醒可能让事情看起来更加的绝望了。

17

在悲剧中不断斗争，更加显示出人的尊严和熠熠生辉