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- Эрнест Хэмингуэй
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- Старик и море
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- Стр. 57/68
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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
.
