Don't think of that.
Just rest and try to get your hands in shape to defend what is left of him.
The blood smell from my hands means nothing now with all that scent in the water.
Besides they do not bleed much.
There is nothing cut that means anything.
The bleeding may keep the left from cramping.
What can I think of now? he thought. Nothing. I must think of nothing and wait for the next ones. I wish it had really been a dream, he thought. But who knows? It might have turned out well.
The next shark that came was a single shovel-nose.
He came like a pig to the trough if a pig had a mouth so wide that you could put your head in it.
The old man let him hit the fish and then drove the knife on the oar down into his brain.