He looked up at the sky and then out to his fish. He looked at the Womens November Girl Stepping Into My Birthday Like A Queen Shirt sun carefully. It is not much more than noon, he thought. And the trade wind is rising. The lines all mean nothing now. The boy and I will splice them when we are home. “Come on, fish,” he said. But the fish did not come. Instead, he lay there wallowing now in the seas and the old man pulled the skiff upon to him. When he was even with him and had the fish’s head against the bow he could not believe his size. But he untied the harpoon rope from the bitt, passed it through the fish’s gills and out his jaws, made a turn around his sword then passed the rope through the other gill, made another turn around the bill and knotted the double rope and made it fast to the bitt in the bow.
He cut the rope then and went astern to noose the tail. The Womens November Girl Stepping Into My Birthday Like A Queen Shirt fish had turned silver from his original purple and silver, and the stripes showed the same pale violet color as his tail. They were wider than a man’s hand with his fingers spread and the fish’s eye looked as detached as the mirrors in a periscope or as a saint in a procession.  “It was the only way to kill him,” the old man said. He was feeling better since the water and he knew he would not go away and his head was clear. He’s over fifteen hundred pounds the way he is, he thought. Maybe much more. If he dresses out two-thirds of that at thirty cents a pound? “I need a pencil for that,” he said. “My head is not that clear.
But I think the great DiMaggio would be proud of me today. I had no bone spurs. But the hands and the back hurt truly.” I wonder what a bone spur is, he thought. Maybe we have them without knowing of it. He made the Womens November Girl Stepping Into My Birthday Like A Queen Shirt fish fast to bow and stern and to the middle thwart. He was so big it was like lashing a much bigger skiff alongside. He cut a piece of line and tied the fish’s lower jaw against his bill so his mouth would not open and they would sail as cleanly as possible. Then he stepped the mast and, with the stick that was his gaff and with his boom rigged, the patched sail drew, the boat began to move, and half lying in the stern he sailed south-west. He did not need a compass to tell him where southwest was.