Chapter 84

I was on the tarpaulin, wrapped in a blanket, sleeping and dreaming and awakening and daydreaming and generally passing the time. There was a steady breeze. From time to time spray was blown off the crest of a wave and wet the boat. Richard Parker had disappeared under the tarpaulin. He liked neither getting wet nor the ups and downs of the boat. But the sky was blue, the air was warm, and the sea was regular in its motion. I awoke because there was a blast. I opened my eyes and saw water in the sky. It crashed down on me. I looked up again. Cloudless blue sky. There was another blast, to my left, not as powerful as the first. Richard Parker growled fiercely. More water crashed against me. It had an unpleasant smell.

I looked over the edge of the boat. The first thing I saw was a large black object floating in the water. It took me a few seconds to understand what it was. An arching wrinkle around its edge was my clue. It was an eye. It was a whale. Its eye, the size of my head, was looking directly at me.

Richard Parker came up from beneath the tarpaulin. He hissed. I sensed from a slight change in the glint of the whale's eye that it was now looking at Richard Parker. It gazed for thirty seconds or so before gently sinking under. I worried that it might strike us with its tail, but it went straight down and vanished in the dark blue. Its tail was a huge, fading, round bracket.

I believe it was a whale looking for a mate. It must have decided that my size wouldn't do, and besides, I already seemed to have a mate.

We saw a number of whales but none so close up as that first one. I would be alerted to their presence by their spouting. They would emerge a short distance away, sometimes three or four of them, a short-lived archipelago of volcanic islands. These gentle behemoths always lifted my spirits. I was convinced that they understood my condition, that at the sight of me one of them exclaimed, "Oh! It's that castaway with the pussy cat Bamphoo was telling me about. Poor boy. Hope he has enough plankton. I must tell Mumphoo and Tomphoo and Stimphoo about him. I wonder if there isn't a ship around I could alert. His mother would be very happy to see him again. Goodbye, my boy. I'll try to help. My name's Pimphoo." And so, through the grapevine, every whale of the Pacific knew of me, and I would have been saved long ago if Pimphoo hadn't sought help from a Japanese ship whose dastardly crew harpooned her, the same fate as befell Lamphoo at the hands of a Norwegian ship. The hunting of whales is a heinous crime.

Dolphins were fairly regular visitors. One group stayed with us a whole day and night. They were very gay. Their plunging and turning and racing just beneath the hull seemed to have no purpose other than sporting fun. I tried to catch one. But none came close to the gaff. And even if one had, they were too fast and too big. I gave up and just watched them.

I saw six birds in all. I took each one to be an angel announcing nearby land. But these were seafaring birds that could span the Pacific with hardly a flutter of the wings. I watched them with awe and envy and self-pity.

Twice I saw an albatross. Each flew by high in the air without taking any notice of us. I stared with my mouth open. They were something supernatural and incomprehensible.

Another time, a short distance from the boat, two Wilson's petrels skimmed by, feet skipping on the water. They, too, took no notice of us, and left me similarly amazed.

We at last attracted the attention of a short-tailed shearwater. It circled above us, eventually dropping down. It kicked out its legs, turned its wings and alighted in the water, floating as lightly as a cork. It eyed me with curiosity. I quickly baited a hook with a bit of flying fish and threw the line its way. I put no weights on the line and had difficulty getting it close to the bird. On my third try the bird paddled up to the sinking bait and plunged its head underwater to get at it. My heart pounded with excitement. I did not pull on the line for some seconds. When I did, the bird merely squawked and regurgitated what it had just swallowed. Before I could try again, it unfolded its wings and pulled itself up into the air. Within two, three beatings of its wings it was on its way.

I had better luck with a masked booby. It appeared out of nowhere, gliding towards us, wings spanning over three feet. It landed on the gunnel within hand's reach of me. Its round eyes took me in, the expression puzzled and serious. It was a large bird with a pure snowy white body and wings that were jet-black at their tips and rear edges. Its big, bulbous head had a very pointed orange-yellow beak and the red eyes behind the black mask made it look like a thief who had had a very long night. Only the oversized, brown webbed feet left something to be desired in their design. The bird was fearless. It spent several minutes tweaking its feathers with its beak, exposing soft down. When it was finished, it looked up and everything fell into place, and it showed itself for what it was: a smooth, beautiful, aerodynamic airship. When I offered it a bit of dorado, it pecked it out of my hand, jabbing the palm.

I broke its neck by leveraging its head backwards, one hand pushing up the beak, the other holding the neck. The feathers were so well attached that when I started pulling them out, skin came off - I was not plucking the bird; I was tearing it apart. It was light enough as it was, a volume with no weight. I took the knife and skinned it instead. For its size there was a disappointing amount of flesh, only a little on its chest. It had a more chewy texture than dorado flesh, but I didn't find there was much of a difference in taste. In its stomach, besides the morsel of dorado I had just given it, I found three small fish. After rinsing them of digestive juices, I ate them. I ate the bird's heart, liver and lungs. I swallowed its eyes and tongue with a gulp of water. I crashed its head and picked out its small brain. I ate the webbings of its feet. The rest of the bird was skin, bone and feathers. I dropped it beyond the edge of the tarpaulin for Richard Parker, who hadn't seen the bird arrive. An orange paw reached out.

Days later feathers and down were still floating up from his den and being blown out to sea. Those that landed in the water were swallowed by fish.

None of the birds ever announced land.

第八十四章

    我正躺在油布上，裹着毯子，睡觉，做梦，然后醒来，做白日梦，概括地说，是在打发时间。微风一直吹着。波峰上的浪花时不时被吹落下来，打湿了小船。理查德·帕克钻到了油布下面。他不喜欢被打湿，也不喜欢小船颠簸。但是天空碧蓝，空气温暖，大海有规律地起伏着。我醒过来是因为有一阵冷雨。我睁开眼睛，看见了天上的水。水正哗哗地落到我身上。我又看了看天。蓝蓝的天空上没有一丝云彩。又是一阵冷雨，浇在我左边，没有第一次那么有力。理查德·帕克凶猛地叫了起来。更多的水落在身上。气味不怎么好闻。

    我越过船边向外面看去。首先看见的是浮在水上的一个巨大的黑色物体。几秒钟之后，我才明白那是什么。它体侧一道拱形的褶皱给了我线索。那是一只眼睛。是条鲸鱼。它那只和我的脑袋一样大的眼睛正盯着我看呢。

    理查德·帕克从油布下面出来了。他发出一声嘶嘶声。我从鲸鱼眼光里闪过的一丝变化感觉到现在它正看着理查德·帕克。它盯着看了大约三十秒钟，然后才慢慢沉了下去。我不知道它会不会用尾巴袭击我们，但是它一直沉下去，消失在了深蓝色的海洋里。它的尾巴就像一个渐渐消失的巨大的圆括号。我相信这条鲸鱼是在找伴。它一定拿定了主意，认为我还不够大，而且，我似乎已经有伴了。我们看见了好几条鲸鱼，但是没有一条像第一条那样靠得那么近。它们喷出的水柱会让我注意到它们的存在。它们会在不远处浮出水面，有时有三四只，像是短暂出现的火山群岛。这些温柔的庞然大物总是能让我提起精神。我坚信它们明白我的处境，当它们看到我时，其中一条叫道：“噢！那就是班普对我说过的带着一只猫咪的乘船失事的人。可怜的孩子。希望他有足够的浮游生物可以吃。我一定要把他的事告诉芒普、汤普和斯蒂普。我不知道附近是不是有条船，我可以去告诉船上的人。他妈妈再见到他一定会很高兴的。再见，我的孩子。我会努力帮助你的。我叫平普。”于是，消息在暗中传播，太平洋的每一条鲸鱼都知道我了，要不是平普去向一艘日本船求救，被卑怯的船员用鱼枪刺中，我可能早就得救了。兰普在挪威船那儿遭到了同样的命运。

    捕鲸是令人发指的罪行。

    海豚是常客。有一群海豚和我们一起待了一天一夜。它们非常快乐。它们在海中翻腾，转身，在船下面追逐，似乎只为了好玩，而没有任何其他目的。我试图抓住一只。但是没有一只游到鱼叉附近。即使有一条游近了，它们的速度也太快，体型也太大了。我放弃了，只是看着它们。

    我一共看见了六只鸟。每一只鸟飞来，我都以为它是天使，来报告陆地就在附近的消息。但它们只是海鸟，能飞过整座太平洋，连翅膀都不扇动一下。我带着敬畏、嫉妒和自怜看着它们。有两次我看见了信天翁。每一只都高高地在天上飞，根本不看我们一眼。我张大了嘴目不转睛地看着。它们是超自然的，深不可测。

    还有一次，就在离小船不远的地方，两只威尔逊海燕从海面掠过，脚在水面上弹跳着。它们也没有看我们一眼，也同样让我感到惊奇。我们终于吸引了一只短尾巴剪嘴鸥的注意力。它在我们买顶盘旋，最后落了下来吉它伸出脚，上下扇动着翅膀，落在水面上，像一只软木塞一样轻盈地漂浮着。它好奇地看着我。我赶快在鱼钩上装上一小块飞鱼肉，把鱼线抛了出去。我没在鱼线上安重物，因此很难把它抛到小鸟的近旁。我第三次把鱼线抛出去时，那只鸟朝下沉的饵料游过来，把头伸到水下去吃。我的心兴奋得怦怦直跳。我等了几秒钟，没有收线。当我收线时，鸟只是呱呱叫着，把刚才吞下去的东西又吐了出来。我还没来得及再试一次，它就展开翅膀，飞上了天空。只扇了两三下翅膀，它便上路了。

    我捉假面樱鸟的运气要好一些。它不知从什么地方冒了出来，滑翔着朝我们飞来，展开的翅膀有三英尺多宽。它落在舷边我伸手可及的地方。它圆圆的眼睛敏锐地看着我，眼神既迷惑又严肃。这是一只大鸟，一身雪白的羽毛，只有翅尖和翅膀后缘的羽毛是乌黑的。大大的球茎状的脑袋上长着一只很尖的橘黄色的嘴，如同一张黑色假面具的脸和面具后面的红色眼睛让它看上去像个偷了一夜东西的小贼。只有那双长着棕色的蹊的过大的脚还不够完美。这只鸟毫不畏惧。它花了好几分钟时间用嘴啄羽毛，露出了下面柔软的绒毛。啄完后，它抬起头来，整个身体清楚地展现在我面前，露出了它的实际模样：一架线条流畅、外观漂亮的流线型飞艇。我喂它一小块鲼鳅肉，它就在我手上啄食，嘴戳着我的手掌心。

    我一只手把它的嘴往后推，另一只手抓住它的脖子，利用杠杆作用弄断了它的脖子。羽毛附着得太紧了，当我开始拔毛的时候，皮也被扯了下来——我简直不是在拔毛；我是在把它撕成碎块。实际上它寞够轻的，体积庞大却轻若无物。我拿出刀，把皮剥了下来。它那么大，肉却少得令人失望，只有胸脯上有点儿肉。这肉比鲼鳅肉更有咬劲，但我不觉得口味有什么不同。它胃里除了我刚才喂给它的那块鲼鳅肉，还有三条小鱼。我把鱼身上的消化液冲洗掉，然后把鱼吃了。我吃了鸟的心、肝和肺。我就着一口水吞下了它的眼睛和舌头。我把它的头砸碎，剔出了里面小小的脑子。我吃了它脚上的蹼。剩下的只有皮、骨头和羽毛。我把这些扔到油布那边给理查德·帕克，他没有看见刚才来了一只鸟。一只橘黄色的爪子伸了出来。

    几天以后，还有羽毛和绒毛从他的窝里飘出来，被风吹到了海上。落在水面上的被鱼吞吃了。没有一只鸟报告过陆地的消息。