Ernest Hemingway
The Old Man and the Sea may very well become one of the true classics of this generation. Certainly, the qualities of Ernest Hemingway's short novel are those which we associate with many great stories of the past: near perfection of form within the limitations of its subject matter, restraint of treatment, regard for the unities of time and place, and evocative simplicity of style. Also, like most great stories, it can be read on more than one level of meaning. On one it is an exciting but tragic adventure story. Sustained by the pride of his calling, the only pride he has left, a broken old fisherman ventures far out into the Gulf Stream and there hooks the biggest marlin ever seen in those waters. Then, alone and exhausted by his struggle to harpoon the giant fish, he is forced into a losing battle with marauding sharks; they leave him nothing but the skeleton of his catch. On another level the book is a fable of the unconquerable spirit of man, a creature capable of snatching spiritual victory from circumstances of disaster and material defeat. On still another it is a parable of religious significance, its theme supported by the writer's unobtrusive handling of Christian symbols and metaphors. Like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, Hemingway's Cuban fisherman is a character allowing the imagination of his creator to operate simultaneously in two different worlds of meaning and value, the one real and dramatic, the other moral and devotionally symbolic.
For eighty four days old Santiago had not caught a single fish. At first a young boy, Manolin, had shared his bad fortune, but after the fortieth luckless day the boy's father told his son to go in another boat. From that time on Santiago worked alone. Each morning he rowed his skiff out into the Gulf Stream where the big fish were. Each evening he came in empty-handed.
The boy loved the old fisherman and pitied him. If Manolin had no money of his own, he begged or stole to make sure that Santiago had enough to eat and fresh baits for his lines. The old man accepted his kindness with humility that was like a quiet kind of pride. Over their evening meals of rice or black beans they would talk about the fish they had taken in luckier times or about American baseball and the great DiMaggio. At night, alone in his shack, Santiago dreamed of lions on the beaches of Africa, where he had gone on a sailing ship years before. He no longer dreamed of his dead wife.
On the eighty-fifth day Santiago rowed out of the harbor in the cool dark before dawn. After leaving the smell of land behind him, he set his lines. Two of his baits were fresh tunas the boy had given him, as well as sardines to cover his hooks. The lines went straight down into deep dark water.
As the sun rose he saw other boats in toward shore, which was only a low green line on the sea. A hovering man-of-war bird showed him where dolphin were chasing some flying fish, but the school was moving too fast and too far away. The bird circled again. This time Santiago saw tuna leaping in the sunlight. A small one took the hook on his stern line. Hauling the quivering fish aboard, the old man thought it a good omen.
Toward noon a marlin started nibbling at the bait which was one hundred fathoms down. Gently the old man played the fish, a big one, as he knew from the weight on the line. At last he struck to settle the hook. The fish did not surface. Instead, it began to tow the skiff to the northwest. The old man braced himself, the line taut across his shoulders. Although he was alone and no longer strong, he had his skill and knew many tricks. He waited patiently for the fish to tire.
The old man shivered in the cold that came after sunset. When something took one of his remaining baits, he cut the line with his sheath knife. Once the fish lurched suddenly, pulling Santiago forward on his face and cutting his cheek. By dawn his left hand was stiff and cramped. The fish had headed northward; there was no land in sight. Another strong tug on the line sliced Santiago's right hand. Hungry, he cut strips from the tuna and chewed them slowly while he waited for the sun to warm him and ease his cramped fingers.
That morning the fish jumped. Seeing it leap, Santiago knew he had hooked the biggest marlin he had even seen. Then the fish went under and turned toward the east. Santiago drank sparingly from his water bottle during the hot afternoon. Trying to forget his cut hand and aching back, he remembered the days when men had called him Campeon and he had wrestled with a giant Negro in the tavern at Cienfuegos. Once an airplane droned overhead on its way to Miami.
Close to nightfall a dolphin took the small hook he had rebaited. He lifted the fish aboard, careful not to jerk the line over his shoulder. After he had rested, he cut fillets from the dolphin and kept also the two flying fish he found in its maw. That night he slept. He awoke to feel the line running through his fingers as the fish jumped. Feeding line slowly, he tried to tire the marlin. After the fish slowed its run. he washed his cut hands in sea water and ate one of the flying fish. At sunrise the marlin began to circle. Faint and dizzy, he worked to bring the big fish nearer with each turn. Almost exhausted, he finally drew his catch alongside and drove in the harpoon. He drank a little water before he lashed the marlin to bow and stern of his skiff. The fish was two feet longer than the boat. No catch like it had ever been seen in Havana harbor. It would make his fortune, he thought, as he hoisted his patched sails and set his course toward the southwest.
An hour later he sighted the first shark. It was a fierce Mako, and it came in fast to slash with raking teeth at the dead marlin. With failing might the old man struck the shark with his harpoon. The Mako rolled and sank, carrying the harpoon with it and leaving the marlin mutilated and bloody. Santiago knew the scent would spread. Watching, he saw two shovel nosed sharks closing in. He struck at one with his knife lashed to the end of an oar and watched the scavenger sliding down into deep water. The other he killed while it tore at the flesh of the marlin. When the third appeared, he thrust at it with the knife, only to feel the blade snap as the fish rolled. The other sharks came at sunset. At first he tried to club them with the tiller from the skiff, but his hands were raw and bleeding and there were too many in the pack. In the darkness, as he steered toward the faint glow of Havana against the sky, he heard them hitting the carcass again and again. But the old man thought only of his steering and his great tiredness. He had gone out too far and the sharks had beaten him. He knew they would leave him nothing but the stripped skeleton of his great catch.
All lights were out when he sailed into the little harbor and beached his skiff. In the gloom he could just make out the white backbone and the upstanding tail of the fish. he started up the shore with the mast and furled sail of his boat. Once he fell under their weight and lay patiently until he could gather his strength. In his shack he fell on his bed and went to sleep.
There the boy found him later that morning. Meanwhile other fishermen, gathered about the skiff, marveled at the giant marlin, eighteen feet long from nose to tail. When Manolin returned to Santiago's shack with hot coffee, the old man awoke. The boy, he said, could have the spear of his fish. Manolin told him to rest, to make himself fit for the days of fishing they would have together. All that afternoon the old man slept, the boy sitting by his bed. Santiago was dreaming of lions.
老 人 與 海
〔美〕海明威 楊枕旦 譯注
《老人與?！吠耆赡艹蔀楫?dāng)代一部名副其實(shí)的經(jīng)典作品。厄納斯特•海明威的這部短篇小說無疑具有以往許多巨著的共同特點(diǎn)： 在題材所限的范圍內(nèi)幾乎達(dá)到形式上的完美無缺、處理方法謹(jǐn)嚴(yán)、注意時(shí)間和地點(diǎn)的統(tǒng)一，行文簡潔而內(nèi)涵很深。另外，和極大多數(shù)巨著一樣，海明威的這篇小說讀起來可有不止一層的意思。一方面，這是一個激動人心的帶有悲劇性的冒險(xiǎn)故事。故事講到一個精神沮喪的老漁人，在他對職業(yè)的自豪感(他留下的自豪感)的支持之下，冒險(xiǎn)遠(yuǎn)航至墨西哥灣流并在那里釣住了一條該水域中從未見過的的馬林魚。故事接著說到他孤零零地、在因奮力叉住這條大魚而耗盡了力氣之后，被迫投入一場和一群海盜似的鯊魚的絕望的搏斗之中，結(jié)果是那些鯊魚只給他留下了獵獲物的一具骨架。另一方面，這又是一個寓言，它描述了人所具有的不可征服的精神力量——一個人如何從災(zāi)難和實(shí)際失敗的環(huán)境中攫取精神上的勝利。再一方面，這是帶有宗教意義的一種隱喻，作者不引人注目地給這一主題添加了基督教的一些象征和比喻。和柯勒律治筆下的“老水手”一樣，海明威筆下的古巴漁民是這樣一個角色，他容許作者的想象力同時(shí)在兩個領(lǐng)域中活動，這兩個領(lǐng)域具有不同的意義和價(jià)值，一個注意寫實(shí)，有著動人的情節(jié)；另一個則側(cè)重道德說教，充滿象征的意義。
桑提亞哥老人已經(jīng)八十四天沒有捕到一條魚了。最初，一個年輕的孩子曼諾林和他一起分擔(dān)惡運(yùn)，但在過了四十天倒霉日子之后，孩子的爸爸讓孩子到另一條船上干活去了。從那個時(shí)候起，桑提亞哥只是一個人干活。每天早晨他劃著小船到有大魚出沒的墨西哥灣流去，每天晚上他總是兩手空空地回來。
孩子喜歡并且可憐這個老漁人。曼諾林要是自己沒有掙到錢，就會乞討或偷竊以保證桑提亞哥有足夠的食物和新鮮的魚餌。老人謙卑地接受孩子的好意，謙卑中帶有某種隱而不露的自豪感。晚餐時(shí)(吃的是大米飯和黑蠶豆)他們總會談?wù)撛谶\(yùn)氣好的日子里一起捕獲的大魚，或是談?wù)撁绹陌羟蛸惡蛡ゴ蟮牡荫R吉奧。夜間桑提亞哥一個人躺在自己的小棚屋里，夢見非洲海灘上的獅子，幾年前他航海去過那個地方。他不再夢見自己死去的老婆了。
在第八十五天，桑提亞哥在寒冷的黎明前的黑暗中，把小船劃出了港口。在把陸地的氣息拋在身后之后，他放下了釣絲。他的兩個魚餌是孩子給他的鮮金槍魚，還有把魚鉤遮蓋起來的沙丁魚。釣絲垂直地下到暗黑的深水里。
太陽升起時(shí)，他看到別的一些船只都頭朝著海岸，在海上看來海岸象是一條接近地平線的綠帶子。一只盤旋的軍艦鳥給老人指明了海豚追逐飛魚的地方。但是魚群游得太快、也太遠(yuǎn)了。這只猛禽又在盤旋了，這次桑提亞哥瞧見金槍魚在太陽光下躍起。一條小金槍魚咬住了他艉纜上的魚鉤。老人在把顫動的金槍魚拉上船板以后，心想這可是一個好兆頭。
快到中午時(shí)，一條馬林魚開始啃起一百深處的那塊魚餌來了。老人輕輕地?cái)[布那條上了鉤的魚，根據(jù)釣絲的份量他知道那準(zhǔn)是一條大魚。最后他猛拉釣絲把魚鉤給穩(wěn)住了。但是，那條魚并沒有浮出水面，反而開始把小船拖著往西北方向跑。老人打起精神，斜挎在肩膀上的釣絲繃得緊緊的。他雖然孤身一人，體力也不如從前，但是他有技術(shù)，他懂得許多訣竅。他耐心地等待魚累乏下來。
日落之后，寒意襲人，老人冷得發(fā)抖。當(dāng)他剩下的魚餌中有一塊被咬住時(shí)，他就用自己那把帶鞘的刀把釣絲給割斷了。有一次那條魚突然一個側(cè)身，把桑提亞哥拉得臉朝下地跌了一跤，老人的頰部也給劃破了。黎明時(shí)分，他的左手變得僵硬并抽起筋來了。那條魚還是一直往北游，一點(diǎn)陸地的影子都瞧不見了。釣絲又一次猛的一拉，把老人的右手給勒傷了。老人肚子餓得發(fā)慌，就從金槍魚身上割下幾片肉，放在嘴里慢慢嚼著，等著太陽出來曬暖他的身子和減輕手指抽筋的痛苦。
第二天早上，這條魚蹦出了水面。桑提亞哥瞧見魚的躍起，知道自己釣到了一條未見過的的馬林魚。一會兒魚又往下沉去，轉(zhuǎn)向了東方。在熾熱的下午，桑提亞哥節(jié)省地喝起水壺里的水。為了忘掉劃破的手和疼痛的背，他回想起過去人們?nèi)绾畏Q他為“優(yōu)勝者”和他如何在西恩富戈斯地方一家酒館里和一個大個子黑人比手勁。有一次一架飛機(jī)嗡嗡地從頭上掠過，向邁阿密飛去。
黃昏之際，一條海豚吞食了他重新放上魚餌的小鉤子。他把這條“魚”提到了船板上，小心不去拉動他肩上的釣絲。休息一會之后，他切下幾片海豚肉并且把在海豚胃中發(fā)現(xiàn)的兩條飛魚留了下來。那天夜里他睡著了。他醒來時(shí)覺得當(dāng)這條魚跳起時(shí)釣絲就滑過他的手指。他緩慢地把釣絲放松，盡力想把這條馬林魚拖乏。在這條大魚放慢跳躍時(shí)，他把劃破的雙手放在海里洗，并且吃了一條飛魚。日出時(shí)，這條馬林魚開始打起轉(zhuǎn)來了。老人感到頭暈?zāi)垦＃M力把大魚在每轉(zhuǎn)一圈時(shí)拉得更近一些。他雖然幾乎筋疲力盡，終于還是把自己的捕獲物拉得和小船并排在一起并用魚叉猛擊這條馬林魚。他喝了一點(diǎn)水，然后把馬林魚捆綁在他那條小船的頭部和尾部。這條馬林魚比船還長兩英尺。哈瓦那港從來沒有見過捕到這么大的魚，他扯起有補(bǔ)丁的船帆開始向西南方向駛?cè)?，心想這下要發(fā)財(cái)了。
一個小時(shí)以后，他瞧見了第一條鯊魚。這是一條兇猛的尖吻鯖鯊。它飛快地游了過來，用耙一樣的牙齒撕這條死馬林魚。老人用盡余力把魚叉往鯊魚身上扎去。尖吻鯖鯊打著滾沉下去了，帶走了魚叉，而且已經(jīng)把馬林魚咬得殘缺不全，鮮血直流。桑提亞哥知道血腥味會散開來。他望著海面，看到兩條犁頭鯊游近來了。他用綁在槳的一頭的刀子擊中了其中的一條，并看著這條食腐動物滑到深海里去了。他殺死了正在撕食馬林魚的另一條鯊魚。當(dāng)?shù)谌龡l鯊魚出現(xiàn)時(shí)，他把刀子向鯊魚戳去。鯊魚打了一個滾，結(jié)果把刀給折斷了。日落時(shí)又有一些鯊魚游過來了。起初他設(shè)法用舵把朝它們劈過去，但是他雙手磨破了皮在流著血，而游來的鯊魚多得成了群。在暮色中，他望著地平線上的哈瓦那的微弱的燈光，聽著鯊魚一次一次在嚙咬馬林魚的尸體。老人此時(shí)想到的只是掌舵，和他自己極度的疲乏。他出海太遠(yuǎn)了，那些鯊魚把他打敗了。他知道那些鯊魚除了大馬林魚的空骨架之外，是什么也不會給他留下的。
當(dāng)他劃進(jìn)小港，讓小船沖上沙灘時(shí)，岸上的燈火都已滅了。在朦朧之中，他只能分辨出那條馬林魚白色的脊背和豎著的尾巴。他拿著桅竿和卷起的船帆，往岸上爬去。有一次他在重壓下跌倒了，他耐心地躺在地上，積蓄力氣。等他進(jìn)了自己的棚屋時(shí)，他一頭倒在床上就睡。
那天早上晚些時(shí)候，孩子發(fā)現(xiàn)他時(shí)他還躺著。這個時(shí)候，一些漁民聚在那只小船的周圍，對這條從頭到尾長有十八英尺的大馬林魚嘖嘖稱奇。當(dāng)曼諾林拿著熱咖啡回到桑提亞哥的棚屋時(shí)，老人醒了。他告訴孩子可以把他那條魚的長吻拿走。曼諾林要老人休息，把身體養(yǎng)好，以便日后再一起出去捕魚。整個下午老人都在睡覺，那孩子就坐在他的床旁邊。桑提亞哥正在夢見那些獅子呢。
The Old Man and the Sea may very well become one of the true classics of this generation. Certainly, the qualities of Ernest Hemingway's short novel are those which we associate with many great stories of the past: near perfection of form within the limitations of its subject matter, restraint of treatment, regard for the unities of time and place, and evocative simplicity of style. Also, like most great stories, it can be read on more than one level of meaning. On one it is an exciting but tragic adventure story. Sustained by the pride of his calling, the only pride he has left, a broken old fisherman ventures far out into the Gulf Stream and there hooks the biggest marlin ever seen in those waters. Then, alone and exhausted by his struggle to harpoon the giant fish, he is forced into a losing battle with marauding sharks; they leave him nothing but the skeleton of his catch. On another level the book is a fable of the unconquerable spirit of man, a creature capable of snatching spiritual victory from circumstances of disaster and material defeat. On still another it is a parable of religious significance, its theme supported by the writer's unobtrusive handling of Christian symbols and metaphors. Like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, Hemingway's Cuban fisherman is a character allowing the imagination of his creator to operate simultaneously in two different worlds of meaning and value, the one real and dramatic, the other moral and devotionally symbolic.
For eighty four days old Santiago had not caught a single fish. At first a young boy, Manolin, had shared his bad fortune, but after the fortieth luckless day the boy's father told his son to go in another boat. From that time on Santiago worked alone. Each morning he rowed his skiff out into the Gulf Stream where the big fish were. Each evening he came in empty-handed.
The boy loved the old fisherman and pitied him. If Manolin had no money of his own, he begged or stole to make sure that Santiago had enough to eat and fresh baits for his lines. The old man accepted his kindness with humility that was like a quiet kind of pride. Over their evening meals of rice or black beans they would talk about the fish they had taken in luckier times or about American baseball and the great DiMaggio. At night, alone in his shack, Santiago dreamed of lions on the beaches of Africa, where he had gone on a sailing ship years before. He no longer dreamed of his dead wife.
On the eighty-fifth day Santiago rowed out of the harbor in the cool dark before dawn. After leaving the smell of land behind him, he set his lines. Two of his baits were fresh tunas the boy had given him, as well as sardines to cover his hooks. The lines went straight down into deep dark water.
As the sun rose he saw other boats in toward shore, which was only a low green line on the sea. A hovering man-of-war bird showed him where dolphin were chasing some flying fish, but the school was moving too fast and too far away. The bird circled again. This time Santiago saw tuna leaping in the sunlight. A small one took the hook on his stern line. Hauling the quivering fish aboard, the old man thought it a good omen.
Toward noon a marlin started nibbling at the bait which was one hundred fathoms down. Gently the old man played the fish, a big one, as he knew from the weight on the line. At last he struck to settle the hook. The fish did not surface. Instead, it began to tow the skiff to the northwest. The old man braced himself, the line taut across his shoulders. Although he was alone and no longer strong, he had his skill and knew many tricks. He waited patiently for the fish to tire.
The old man shivered in the cold that came after sunset. When something took one of his remaining baits, he cut the line with his sheath knife. Once the fish lurched suddenly, pulling Santiago forward on his face and cutting his cheek. By dawn his left hand was stiff and cramped. The fish had headed northward; there was no land in sight. Another strong tug on the line sliced Santiago's right hand. Hungry, he cut strips from the tuna and chewed them slowly while he waited for the sun to warm him and ease his cramped fingers.
That morning the fish jumped. Seeing it leap, Santiago knew he had hooked the biggest marlin he had even seen. Then the fish went under and turned toward the east. Santiago drank sparingly from his water bottle during the hot afternoon. Trying to forget his cut hand and aching back, he remembered the days when men had called him Campeon and he had wrestled with a giant Negro in the tavern at Cienfuegos. Once an airplane droned overhead on its way to Miami.
Close to nightfall a dolphin took the small hook he had rebaited. He lifted the fish aboard, careful not to jerk the line over his shoulder. After he had rested, he cut fillets from the dolphin and kept also the two flying fish he found in its maw. That night he slept. He awoke to feel the line running through his fingers as the fish jumped. Feeding line slowly, he tried to tire the marlin. After the fish slowed its run. he washed his cut hands in sea water and ate one of the flying fish. At sunrise the marlin began to circle. Faint and dizzy, he worked to bring the big fish nearer with each turn. Almost exhausted, he finally drew his catch alongside and drove in the harpoon. He drank a little water before he lashed the marlin to bow and stern of his skiff. The fish was two feet longer than the boat. No catch like it had ever been seen in Havana harbor. It would make his fortune, he thought, as he hoisted his patched sails and set his course toward the southwest.
An hour later he sighted the first shark. It was a fierce Mako, and it came in fast to slash with raking teeth at the dead marlin. With failing might the old man struck the shark with his harpoon. The Mako rolled and sank, carrying the harpoon with it and leaving the marlin mutilated and bloody. Santiago knew the scent would spread. Watching, he saw two shovel nosed sharks closing in. He struck at one with his knife lashed to the end of an oar and watched the scavenger sliding down into deep water. The other he killed while it tore at the flesh of the marlin. When the third appeared, he thrust at it with the knife, only to feel the blade snap as the fish rolled. The other sharks came at sunset. At first he tried to club them with the tiller from the skiff, but his hands were raw and bleeding and there were too many in the pack. In the darkness, as he steered toward the faint glow of Havana against the sky, he heard them hitting the carcass again and again. But the old man thought only of his steering and his great tiredness. He had gone out too far and the sharks had beaten him. He knew they would leave him nothing but the stripped skeleton of his great catch.
All lights were out when he sailed into the little harbor and beached his skiff. In the gloom he could just make out the white backbone and the upstanding tail of the fish. he started up the shore with the mast and furled sail of his boat. Once he fell under their weight and lay patiently until he could gather his strength. In his shack he fell on his bed and went to sleep.
There the boy found him later that morning. Meanwhile other fishermen, gathered about the skiff, marveled at the giant marlin, eighteen feet long from nose to tail. When Manolin returned to Santiago's shack with hot coffee, the old man awoke. The boy, he said, could have the spear of his fish. Manolin told him to rest, to make himself fit for the days of fishing they would have together. All that afternoon the old man slept, the boy sitting by his bed. Santiago was dreaming of lions.
老 人 與 海
〔美〕海明威 楊枕旦 譯注
《老人與?！吠耆赡艹蔀楫?dāng)代一部名副其實(shí)的經(jīng)典作品。厄納斯特•海明威的這部短篇小說無疑具有以往許多巨著的共同特點(diǎn)： 在題材所限的范圍內(nèi)幾乎達(dá)到形式上的完美無缺、處理方法謹(jǐn)嚴(yán)、注意時(shí)間和地點(diǎn)的統(tǒng)一，行文簡潔而內(nèi)涵很深。另外，和極大多數(shù)巨著一樣，海明威的這篇小說讀起來可有不止一層的意思。一方面，這是一個激動人心的帶有悲劇性的冒險(xiǎn)故事。故事講到一個精神沮喪的老漁人，在他對職業(yè)的自豪感(他留下的自豪感)的支持之下，冒險(xiǎn)遠(yuǎn)航至墨西哥灣流并在那里釣住了一條該水域中從未見過的的馬林魚。故事接著說到他孤零零地、在因奮力叉住這條大魚而耗盡了力氣之后，被迫投入一場和一群海盜似的鯊魚的絕望的搏斗之中，結(jié)果是那些鯊魚只給他留下了獵獲物的一具骨架。另一方面，這又是一個寓言，它描述了人所具有的不可征服的精神力量——一個人如何從災(zāi)難和實(shí)際失敗的環(huán)境中攫取精神上的勝利。再一方面，這是帶有宗教意義的一種隱喻，作者不引人注目地給這一主題添加了基督教的一些象征和比喻。和柯勒律治筆下的“老水手”一樣，海明威筆下的古巴漁民是這樣一個角色，他容許作者的想象力同時(shí)在兩個領(lǐng)域中活動，這兩個領(lǐng)域具有不同的意義和價(jià)值，一個注意寫實(shí)，有著動人的情節(jié)；另一個則側(cè)重道德說教，充滿象征的意義。
桑提亞哥老人已經(jīng)八十四天沒有捕到一條魚了。最初，一個年輕的孩子曼諾林和他一起分擔(dān)惡運(yùn)，但在過了四十天倒霉日子之后，孩子的爸爸讓孩子到另一條船上干活去了。從那個時(shí)候起，桑提亞哥只是一個人干活。每天早晨他劃著小船到有大魚出沒的墨西哥灣流去，每天晚上他總是兩手空空地回來。
孩子喜歡并且可憐這個老漁人。曼諾林要是自己沒有掙到錢，就會乞討或偷竊以保證桑提亞哥有足夠的食物和新鮮的魚餌。老人謙卑地接受孩子的好意，謙卑中帶有某種隱而不露的自豪感。晚餐時(shí)(吃的是大米飯和黑蠶豆)他們總會談?wù)撛谶\(yùn)氣好的日子里一起捕獲的大魚，或是談?wù)撁绹陌羟蛸惡蛡ゴ蟮牡荫R吉奧。夜間桑提亞哥一個人躺在自己的小棚屋里，夢見非洲海灘上的獅子，幾年前他航海去過那個地方。他不再夢見自己死去的老婆了。
在第八十五天，桑提亞哥在寒冷的黎明前的黑暗中，把小船劃出了港口。在把陸地的氣息拋在身后之后，他放下了釣絲。他的兩個魚餌是孩子給他的鮮金槍魚，還有把魚鉤遮蓋起來的沙丁魚。釣絲垂直地下到暗黑的深水里。
太陽升起時(shí)，他看到別的一些船只都頭朝著海岸，在海上看來海岸象是一條接近地平線的綠帶子。一只盤旋的軍艦鳥給老人指明了海豚追逐飛魚的地方。但是魚群游得太快、也太遠(yuǎn)了。這只猛禽又在盤旋了，這次桑提亞哥瞧見金槍魚在太陽光下躍起。一條小金槍魚咬住了他艉纜上的魚鉤。老人在把顫動的金槍魚拉上船板以后，心想這可是一個好兆頭。
快到中午時(shí)，一條馬林魚開始啃起一百深處的那塊魚餌來了。老人輕輕地?cái)[布那條上了鉤的魚，根據(jù)釣絲的份量他知道那準(zhǔn)是一條大魚。最后他猛拉釣絲把魚鉤給穩(wěn)住了。但是，那條魚并沒有浮出水面，反而開始把小船拖著往西北方向跑。老人打起精神，斜挎在肩膀上的釣絲繃得緊緊的。他雖然孤身一人，體力也不如從前，但是他有技術(shù)，他懂得許多訣竅。他耐心地等待魚累乏下來。
日落之后，寒意襲人，老人冷得發(fā)抖。當(dāng)他剩下的魚餌中有一塊被咬住時(shí)，他就用自己那把帶鞘的刀把釣絲給割斷了。有一次那條魚突然一個側(cè)身，把桑提亞哥拉得臉朝下地跌了一跤，老人的頰部也給劃破了。黎明時(shí)分，他的左手變得僵硬并抽起筋來了。那條魚還是一直往北游，一點(diǎn)陸地的影子都瞧不見了。釣絲又一次猛的一拉，把老人的右手給勒傷了。老人肚子餓得發(fā)慌，就從金槍魚身上割下幾片肉，放在嘴里慢慢嚼著，等著太陽出來曬暖他的身子和減輕手指抽筋的痛苦。
第二天早上，這條魚蹦出了水面。桑提亞哥瞧見魚的躍起，知道自己釣到了一條未見過的的馬林魚。一會兒魚又往下沉去，轉(zhuǎn)向了東方。在熾熱的下午，桑提亞哥節(jié)省地喝起水壺里的水。為了忘掉劃破的手和疼痛的背，他回想起過去人們?nèi)绾畏Q他為“優(yōu)勝者”和他如何在西恩富戈斯地方一家酒館里和一個大個子黑人比手勁。有一次一架飛機(jī)嗡嗡地從頭上掠過，向邁阿密飛去。
黃昏之際，一條海豚吞食了他重新放上魚餌的小鉤子。他把這條“魚”提到了船板上，小心不去拉動他肩上的釣絲。休息一會之后，他切下幾片海豚肉并且把在海豚胃中發(fā)現(xiàn)的兩條飛魚留了下來。那天夜里他睡著了。他醒來時(shí)覺得當(dāng)這條魚跳起時(shí)釣絲就滑過他的手指。他緩慢地把釣絲放松，盡力想把這條馬林魚拖乏。在這條大魚放慢跳躍時(shí)，他把劃破的雙手放在海里洗，并且吃了一條飛魚。日出時(shí)，這條馬林魚開始打起轉(zhuǎn)來了。老人感到頭暈?zāi)垦＃M力把大魚在每轉(zhuǎn)一圈時(shí)拉得更近一些。他雖然幾乎筋疲力盡，終于還是把自己的捕獲物拉得和小船并排在一起并用魚叉猛擊這條馬林魚。他喝了一點(diǎn)水，然后把馬林魚捆綁在他那條小船的頭部和尾部。這條馬林魚比船還長兩英尺。哈瓦那港從來沒有見過捕到這么大的魚，他扯起有補(bǔ)丁的船帆開始向西南方向駛?cè)?，心想這下要發(fā)財(cái)了。
一個小時(shí)以后，他瞧見了第一條鯊魚。這是一條兇猛的尖吻鯖鯊。它飛快地游了過來，用耙一樣的牙齒撕這條死馬林魚。老人用盡余力把魚叉往鯊魚身上扎去。尖吻鯖鯊打著滾沉下去了，帶走了魚叉，而且已經(jīng)把馬林魚咬得殘缺不全，鮮血直流。桑提亞哥知道血腥味會散開來。他望著海面，看到兩條犁頭鯊游近來了。他用綁在槳的一頭的刀子擊中了其中的一條，并看著這條食腐動物滑到深海里去了。他殺死了正在撕食馬林魚的另一條鯊魚。當(dāng)?shù)谌龡l鯊魚出現(xiàn)時(shí)，他把刀子向鯊魚戳去。鯊魚打了一個滾，結(jié)果把刀給折斷了。日落時(shí)又有一些鯊魚游過來了。起初他設(shè)法用舵把朝它們劈過去，但是他雙手磨破了皮在流著血，而游來的鯊魚多得成了群。在暮色中，他望著地平線上的哈瓦那的微弱的燈光，聽著鯊魚一次一次在嚙咬馬林魚的尸體。老人此時(shí)想到的只是掌舵，和他自己極度的疲乏。他出海太遠(yuǎn)了，那些鯊魚把他打敗了。他知道那些鯊魚除了大馬林魚的空骨架之外，是什么也不會給他留下的。
當(dāng)他劃進(jìn)小港，讓小船沖上沙灘時(shí)，岸上的燈火都已滅了。在朦朧之中，他只能分辨出那條馬林魚白色的脊背和豎著的尾巴。他拿著桅竿和卷起的船帆，往岸上爬去。有一次他在重壓下跌倒了，他耐心地躺在地上，積蓄力氣。等他進(jìn)了自己的棚屋時(shí)，他一頭倒在床上就睡。
那天早上晚些時(shí)候，孩子發(fā)現(xiàn)他時(shí)他還躺著。這個時(shí)候，一些漁民聚在那只小船的周圍，對這條從頭到尾長有十八英尺的大馬林魚嘖嘖稱奇。當(dāng)曼諾林拿著熱咖啡回到桑提亞哥的棚屋時(shí)，老人醒了。他告訴孩子可以把他那條魚的長吻拿走。曼諾林要老人休息，把身體養(yǎng)好，以便日后再一起出去捕魚。整個下午老人都在睡覺，那孩子就坐在他的床旁邊。桑提亞哥正在夢見那些獅子呢。