the plankton

The plankton is the microscopic, drifting life that fills the sea, and for Santiago, it is a constant, meaningful presence. He reads it as a sign of fish and good weather, and its appearance marks the rhythm of his days on the Gulf Stream. More than a biological fact, the plankton becomes a symbol of the ocean's fertility, its hidden abundance, and the old man's deep, intuitive knowledge of the sea's language.

Appearance and Significance as a Sign

Santiago first notices the plankton when he looks down into the dark blue water, which is so deep it is almost purple. He sees "the red sifting of the plankton in the dark water and the strange light the sun made now." This sight makes him happy because he knows that plankton means fish. The strange light the sun makes in the water, combined with the shape of the clouds over the land, also means good weather. For Santiago, the plankton is not just food for fish; it is a visible, reliable sign that the ocean is alive and that his chances of catching a big fish are good. He trusts this sign implicitly, as part of his lifelong experience of reading the sea.

The Plankton and the Cycle of Life

The plankton is woven into the larger cycle of life and death that Santiago observes and participates in. He loves to see the big sea turtles eating the Portuguese men-of-war, which are themselves part of the planktonic drift. The turtles approach the poisonous jellyfish from the front, shut their eyes, and eat them, filaments and all. Santiago loves to walk on the beached men-of-war after a storm and hear them pop under his feet. He also eats turtle eggs to give himself strength for the truly big fish in September and October, and he drinks shark liver oil every day. The plankton, through the creatures that feed on it, ultimately sustains Santiago himself. It is the base of the food chain that supports the tuna, the dolphin, the marlin, and finally the old man who hunts them.

The Plankton as a Measure of the Sea's Mood

Santiago's relationship with the sea is deeply personal, and he thinks of it as feminine, as "la mar," something that gives or withholds great favors. The plankton is part of this feminine, life-giving aspect of the ocean. When the sun is high, the myriad flecks of the plankton are annulled, and the sea appears as a great deep prism. But the plankton's presence is always there, a sign of the ocean's hidden richness. Later, when Santiago is sailing home with the marlin lashed to his skiff, he thinks about the sea and its friends and enemies. The plankton, as the foundation of all life in the sea, is part of this complex brotherhood. It is a constant, quiet reminder that the ocean is a living system, not just a contestant or an enemy.

The Plankton and the Final Irony

In the end, the great marlin is reduced to a skeleton, and a party of tourists mistakes it for a shark. The plankton, which once signaled life and abundance, is now part of the scene of waste. The skeleton, stripped of all its flesh, will eventually be broken down by the sea, returning its nutrients to the plankton. The cycle continues, indifferent to Santiago's triumph and loss. The plankton, which Santiago read as a promise of fish, is also the agent of the fish's final dissolution. It is the ultimate, impersonal force of the sea, both the source of life and the engine of decay, and Santiago, in his wisdom, understands and accepts this without complaint.