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But in the dark now and no glow showing and no lights and only the wind and the steady pull of the sail he felt that perhaps he was already dead.

He put his two hands together and felt the palms.

They were not dead and he could bring the pain of life by simply opening and closing them.

He leaned his back against the stern and knew he was not dead.

His shoulders told him.

I have all those prayers I promised if I caught the fish, he thought. But I am too tired to say them now. I better get the sack and put it over my shoulders.

He lay in the stern and steered and watched for the glow to come in the sky. I have half of him, he thought. Maybe I'll have the luck to bring the forward half in. I should have some luck. No, he said. You violated your luck when you went too far outside.

"Don't be silly," he said aloud. "And keep awake and steer. You may have much luck yet."

"I'd like to buy some if there's any place they sell it," he said.

What could I buy it with? he asked himself. Could I buy it with a lost harpoon and a broken knife and two bad hands?

"You might," he said. "You tried to buy it with eighty-four days at sea. They nearly sold it to you too."

I must not think nonsense, he thought.

Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her? I would take some though in any form and pay what they asked.

I wish I could see the glow from the lights, he thought.

I wish too many things.

But that is the thing I wish for now.

He tried to settle more comfortably to steer and from his pain he knew he was not dead.

He saw the reflected glare of the lights of the city at what must have been around ten o'clock at night.

They were only perceptible at first as the light is in the sky before the moon rises.

Then they were steady to see across the ocean which was rough now with the increasing breeze.

He steered inside of the glow and he thought that now, soon, he must hit the edge of the stream.

Now it is over, he thought. They will probably hit me again. But what can a man do against them in the dark without a weapon?

He was stiff and sore now and his wounds and all of the strained parts of his body hurt with the cold of the night. I hope I do not have to fight again, he thought. I hope so much I do not have to fight again.

But by midnight he fought and this time he knew the fight was useless.

They came in a pack and he could only see the lines in the water that their fins made and their phosphorescence as they threw themselves on the fish.

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