He was an old man who fished alone in a boat and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish, the boy's parents had told him that the old man was now exactly and finally salao, which is the worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week.

It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his boat empty and be always went down to help him carry fishing tools. 

The old man was thin with deep wrinkles(皱纹)in the back of his neck. His hands had the deep scars(疤)from dealing with heavy fish. But none of these scars were fresh. 

Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same colour as the sea and were cheerful and full of confidence. 

"Santiago," the boy said to him as they climbed from the bank where the boat was pulled up. "I could go with you again. We've made some money."

The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him. "No." the old man said. "You're with a lucky boat. Stay with them."

"But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks."

"I remember," the old man said. "I know you did not leave me willingly."

"It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must do what he told me to."

"I know." the old man said. "I quite understand that."

"He hasn't much faith(信念)."

"No." the old man said. "But we have. Haven't we?"

"Yes." the boy said. "Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we'll take the fishing tools home."

"Why not?" the old man said. "Between fishermen."

They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry. Some other older fishermen looked at him and were sad. But they didn't show it and they spoke politely about the sea, the weather and of what they had seen.