He now gains line with every circle, forcing the fish to come closer with every round. As the fish comes alongside, he pulls with all his strength, and turns “part way over” but then it rights itself and swims away. It happens several times. The old man says, “Fish you are going to have to die any way. Do you have to kill me too?” he is so enamoured of the beauty and nobility of the fish that the calls it a brother. He even goes on to say, “Come on and kill me. I don’t care who kills who.” As the fish, now tired and exhausted, comes along side, he drops the line, puts his foot on it, lifts the harpoon as high as he can and drives it down with all his might “in to the fish’s side just behind the great chest fin.” He feels the iron go in and pushes “all his weight after it.” There oozes out a cloud of blood from the fish’s heart. It is dead. Soon it is afloat, green, golden and silver. The greatest adventure on sea has been accomplished although it is by no means the end of old man’s labour and struggle.
Marlin, the old man hooks, drags his skiff for a couple of nights and two and half days. Another man in his place would have been panicky and given up but the old man knows better. He knows that a fish however strong and big it might be, can’t drag the skiff forever. Hunger and toil must take its toll. In the meantime he eats raw tuna to keep himself strong. At long last, the fish as he had predicted, starts circling.