.
’.
.
.
.
-boatswouldnotbegoingoutandtheboyhadsleptlateandthencometotheoldman’’.
Manyfishermenwerearoundtheskifflookingatwhatwaslashedbesideitandonewasinthewater, histrousersrolledup, measuringtheskeletonwithalengthofline.
.
“Howishe?” oneofthefishermenshouted.
“Sleeping,” .“Letnoonedisturbhim.”
“Hewaseighteenfeetfromnosetotail,” thefishermanwhowasmeasuringhimcalled.
“Ibelieveit,” theboysaid.
HewentintotheTerraceandaskedforacanofcoffee.
“Hotandwithplentyofmilkandsugarinit.”
“Anythingmore?”
“.”
“Whatafishitwas,” theproprietorsaid.“.”
“Damnmyfish,” theboysaidandhestartedtocryagain.
“Doyouwantadrinkofanykind?” theproprietorasked.
“No,” theboysaid.“TellthemnottobotherSantiago.I’llbeback.”
“TellhimhowsorryIam.”
“Thanks,” theboysaid.
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传送门： 老人与海歌曲 老人与海