But there was no way to keep its scent out of the water and the old man knew that a very bad time was coming.
The breeze was steady.
It had backed a little further into the north-east and he knew that meant that it would not fall off.
The old man looked ahead of him but he could see no sails nor could he see the hull nor the smoke of any ship.
There were only the flying fish that went up from his bow sailing away to either side and the yellow patches of gulf-weed.
He could not even see a bird.
He had sailed for two hours, resting in the stern and sometimes chewing a bit of the meat from the marlin, trying to rest and to be strong, when he saw the first of the two sharks.
"Ay," he said aloud. There is no translation for this word and perhaps it is just a noise such as a man might make, involuntarily, feeling the nail go through his hands and into the wood.
"Galanos," he said aloud.
He had seen the second fin now coming up behind the first and had identified them as shovel-nosed sharks by the brown, triangular fin and the sweeping movements of the tail.