高中英语课文阅读材料

2023-03-24 07:08:23 文档大全网 [ 字体：小中大 ] [ 阅读： ]

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The old man and the sea

On the coast of Cuba lived an old fisherman. He was thin and had many deep lines in the back of his neck. His skin was very brown, and his hands were marked by pulling heavy fish at the end of ropes. But all these marks were old. Every part of him seemed old except his eyes. These were cheerful and the same color as the sea.

For eighty days he did not catch any fish. People said that the old man was unlucky. But the old man still loved the sea. He was still strong and a good fisherman. On the eighty—fifth day the old man sailed farther out to sea than any of the other boats. He sailed to where the water was very deep. Then he felt fishing—line being pulled gently by a big fish which was swimming very deep in the water.

The fish was so powerful that it pulled the boat after it. It took the small boat far out to sea. The old man could no longer see the land.

“Fish,” he said softly, aloud, “I'll stay with you until I am dead.”

The old man pulled the line a little tighter, but he did not dare to pull it suddenly. The fish might jump and escape. Or it might dive down into the sea and pull the boat after it. But the fish was strong and brave. It pulled the boat on and on.

When the fish rose at last to the top of the water, the old man saw

that it was two feet longer than his boat. The old man had seen many great fish, but this one was the greatest fish he had ever seen. It was also the most beautiful.

On the morning of the third day, the end came. Tired and full of pain, the old man threw his harpoon into the heart of the great fish. The fish rose high out of the water, showing all its power and beauty. The next moment it was dead.

Slowly and painfully, the old man tied the fish to the side of the boat. Then he turned back and sailed toward the distant shore. He sailed well and he looked often at the huge fish.

Then the first shark came. The old man killed it, but he lost his harpoon and all his rope. Two hours later two more sharks came. The old man fought them with his oar and his knife. Then he used a stick. Then the tiller. But he knew he was beaten. When he sailed into the little harbour and pulled his boat on shore, no fish was left. Only the giant white backbone.

The next morning the fishermen in the village gathered round the small boat. They measured the big bone of the fish. It was eighteen feet long. "what a fish it was," someone said. "there has never been such a fish.