The fish never changed his course nor his direction all that night as far as the man could tell from watching the stars. It was cold after the sun went down and the old man's sweat dried cold on his back and his arms and his old legs.During the day he had taken the sack that covered the bait box and spread it in the sun to dry.After the sun went down he tied it around his neck so that it hung down over his back and he cautiously worked it down under the line that was across his shoulders now.The sack cushioned the line and he had found a way of leaning forward against the bow so that he was almost comfortable.The position actually was only somewhat less intolerable;but he thought of it as almost comfortable.I can do nothing with him and he can do nothing with me,he thought.Not as long as he keeps this up.
“He'll take it,”the old man said aloud.“God help him to take it.”
“He can't have gone,”he said.“Christ knows he can't have gone.He's making a turn.Maybe he has been hooked before and he remembers something of it.”