Chapter 83

The storm came on slowly one afternoon. The clouds looked as if they were stumbling along before the wind, frightened. The sea took its cue. It started rising and falling in a manner that made my heart sink. I took in the solar stills and the net. Oh, you should have seen that landscape! What I had seen up till now were mere hillocks of water. These swells were truly mountains. The valleys we found ourselves in were so deep they were gloomy. Their sides were so steep the lifeboat started sliding down them, nearly surfing. The raft was getting exceptionally rough treatment, being pulled out of the water and dragged along bouncing every which way. I deployed both sea anchors fully, at different lengths so that they would not interfere with each other.

Climbing the giant swells, the boat clung to the sea anchors like a mountain climber to a rope. We would rush up until we reached a snow-white crest in a burst of light and foam and a tipping forward of the lifeboat. The view would be clear for miles around. But the mountain would shift, and the ground beneath us would start sinking in a most stomach-sickening way. In no time we would be sitting once again at the bottom of a dark valley, different from the last but the same, with thousands of tons of water hovering above us and with only our flimsy lightness to save us. The land would move once more, the sea-anchor ropes would snap to tautness, and the roller coaster would start again.

The sea anchors did their job well - in fact, nearly too well. Every swell at its crest wanted to take us for a tumble, but the anchors, beyond the crest, heaved mightily and pulled us through, but at the expense of pulling the front of the boat down. The result was an explosion of foam and spray at the bow. I was soaked through and through each time.

Then a swell came up that was particularly intent on taking us along. This time the bow vanished underwater. I was shocked and chilled and scared witless. I barely managed to hold on. The boat was swamped. I heard Richard Parker roar. I felt death was upon us. The only choice left to me was death by water or death by animal. I chose death by animal.

While we sank down the back of the swell, I jumped onto the tarpaulin and unrolled it towards the stern, closing in Richard Parker. If he protested, I did not hear him. Faster than a sewing machine working a piece of cloth, I hooked down the tarpaulin on both sides of the boat. We were climbing again. The boat was lurching upwards steadily. It was hard to keep my balance. The lifeboat was now covered and the tarpaulin battened down, except at my end. I squeezed in between the side bench and the tarpaulin and pulled the remaining tarpaulin over my head. I did not have much space. Between bench and gunnel there was twelve inches, and the side benches were only one and a half feet wide. But I was not so foolhardy, even in the face of death, as to move onto the floor of the boat. There were four hooks left to catch. I slipped a hand through the opening and worked the rope. With each hook done, it was getting harder to get the next. I managed two. Two hooks left. The boat was rushing upwards in a smooth and unceasing motion. The incline was over thirty degrees. I could feel myself being pulled down towards the stern. Twisting my hand frantically I succeeded in catching one more hook with the rope. It was the best I could do. This was not a job meant to be done from the inside of the lifeboat but from the outside. I pulled hard on the rope, something made easier by the fact that holding on to it was preventing me from sliding down the length of the boat. The boat swiftly passed a forty-five-degree incline.

We must have been at a sixty-degree incline when we reached the summit of the swell and broke through its crest onto the other side. The smallest portion of the swell's supply of water crashed down on us. I felt as if I were being pummelled by a great fist. The lifeboat abruptly tilted forward and everything was reversed: I was now at the lower end of the lifeboat, and the water that had swamped it, with a tiger soaking in it, came my way. I did not feel the tiger - I had no precise idea of where Richard Parker was; it was pitch-black beneath the tarpaulin - but before we reached the next valley I was half-drowned.

For the rest of that day and into the night, we went up and down, up and down, up and down, until terror became monotonous and was replaced by numbness and a complete giving-up. I held on to the tarpaulin rope with one hand and the edge of the bow bench with the other, while my body lay flat against the side bench. In this position - water pouring in, water pouring out - the tarpaulin beat me to a pulp, I was soaked and chilled, and I was bruised and cut by bones and turtle shells. The noise of the storm was constant, as was Richard Parker's snarling.

Sometime during the night my mind noted that the storm was over. We were bobbing on the sea in a normal way. Through a tear in the tarpaulin I glimpsed the night sky. Starry and cloudless. I undid the tarpaulin and lay on top of it.

I noticed the loss of the raft at dawn. All that was left of it were two tied oars and the life jacket between them. They had the same effect on me as the last standing beam of a burnt-down house would have on a householder. I turned and scrutinized every quarter of the horizon. Nothing. My little marine town had vanished. That the sea anchors, miraculously, were not lost - they continued to tug at the lifeboat faithfully - was a consolation that had no effect. The loss of the raft was perhaps not fatal to my body, but it felt fatal to my spirits.

The boat was in a sorry state. The tarpaulin was torn in several places, some tears evidently the work of Richard Parker's claws. Much of our food was gone, either lost overboard or destroyed by the water that had come in. I was sore all over and had a bad cut on my thigh; the wound was swollen and white. I was nearly too afraid to check the contents of the locker. Thank God none of the water bags had split. The net and the solar stills, which I had not entirely deflated, had filled the empty space and prevented the bags from moving too much.

I felt exhausted and depressed. I unhooked the tarpaulin at the stern. Richard Parker was so silent I wondered whether he had drowned. He hadn't. As I rolled back the tarpaulin to the middle bench and daylight came to him, he stirred and growled. He climbed out of the water and set himself on the stern bench. I took out needle and thread and went about mending the tears in the tarpaulin.

Later I tied one of the buckets to a rope and bailed the boat. Richard Parker watched me distractedly. He seemed to find nearly everything I did boring. The day was hot and I proceeded slowly. One haul brought me something I had lost. I considered it. Cradled in the palm of my hand was all that remained between me and death: the last of the orange whistles.

第八十三章

    一天下午，慢慢地起了一场风暴。云仿佛受了惊吓，在风前面跌跌撞撞地跑。海也学云的样，升起又落下，让我的心都沉了下去。我把太阳能蒸馏器和鱼网都收了进来。噢，你们真应该看看那幅景象！到目前为止，我见到的只是小山丘般的海水，而这些长浪是真正的大山。，我们所处的山谷太深了，里面一片昏暗。

    山坡太陡了，救生艇开始朝坡下滑去．几乎像在冲浪。小筏子被异常粗暴地对待，被从水里拉出来，拖在船后面，乱颠乱跳。我将两只海锚都抛了出去，让它们一前一后拖在水中，这样两只锚就不会绞在一起了。

    在朝巨大的长浪上爬升时，船紧紧地抓住海锚，就像登山的人抓住绳索。我们一直朝上冲，在一阵光亮和一片飞沫中，船突然向前倾斜，冲到了雪白的浪尖。在浪尖上，周围几英里之内的景象都看得清清楚楚。但是大山会移动位置，我们脚下的大地会开始下沉，让我的胃翻腾得难受极了。转眼之间我们又坐在了黑暗的谷底，这不是刚才的山谷，但和在刚才的山谷里一样，成吨的水在我们头顶盘旋，我们轻得不堪一击，而这时只有这一点能救我们。大地又动了起来，系海锚的缆绳突然拉紧，我们又开始像乘坐环滑车一样，时而升起，时而降落。

    海锚干得好——实际上，几乎干得太好了。每一排长浪都想趁我们在浪尖上时将我们打翻，但是浪尖另一边的海锚却用力拉住我们，帮我们度过了危险，但代价是船的前部被往下拉，结果船头掀起一片浪花和飞沫。每一次我都被淋得透湿。

    接着，一排长浪涌来，特别急切地要把我们带走。这一次，船头沉到了水下。我大吃一惊，浑身冰凉，吓得魂不附体。我几乎支持不住了。船被淹没了。我听见理查德·帕克的叫声。我感到死亡已经来临。我只有一个选择，要不被水淹死，要不被动物咬死。我选择了被动物咬死。

    当我们从长浪背面往下沉时，我跳到油布上，把油布朝船尾铺开，把理查德·帕克堵在了船尾。也许他表示反抗了，但我没听见。我以比缝纫机缝布还要快的速度用钩子把油布固定在船两侧。我们又在向上爬了。船在不断地向上倾斜。我很难保持平衡。

    现在整条救生艇都被油布盖住了。除了我这头，油布已经被固定住。我挤进舷边坐板和油布之间，拉过剩下的油布，盖住头。我没有多少空间。舷边和坐板之间有十二英寸，舷边坐板只有一英尺半宽。但是，即使在面对死亡的时候，我也没有鲁莽地移到船板上去。还有四只钩子需要系住。我从开口处伸出一只手去系缆绳。每系好一只钩子，都使得下一只钩子更难系。我系好了两只。

    还有两只。船在平稳地不断地向上冲。倾斜度超过了30度。我能感到自己正在被一股力量朝船尾拉。我发疯般的扭动着手，成功地用缆绳又系住了一只钩子。我已经尽了最大努力了。这活不应该是在救生艇里面，而应该是在救生艇外面完成的。我用力拉住绳子，这样才不会滑到船那头去，想到这一点，我就感到拉绳子不那么费力了。船迅速越过45度的斜面。

    我们到达长浪浪尖，穿过浪峰到另一边时，一定倾斜到了60度。长浪的很小一部分水哗地打在我们身上。我感到自己被一只巨大的拳头打了一下。救生艇突然向前倾斜，一切都反了过来：现在我到了救生艇低的一头，淹没船只的海水和泡在水里的老虎都朝我冲了过来。我没有感觉到老虎——我不知道理查德·帕克究竟在哪里；油布下面一片漆黑——但在到达下一个谷底之前我已经被淹得网一起将空间填满了，让袋子没法大幅度移动。

    我筋疲力尽，心情沮丧。我解开船尾的油布。理查德·帕克太安静了，我怀疑他是不是淹死了。他没淹死。我把油布向后卷到中间的坐板，光照在了他身上，他惊醒过来，吼了一声。他从水里爬出来，爬到船尾坐板上。我拿出针线，开始补油布上的裂口。

    后来我把一只桶系在绳子上，从船里往外舀水。理查德·帕克心不在焉地看着我。他似乎觉得我做的什么事都很枯燥乏味。

    天很热，我干得很慢。一桶水里有一样我丢失的东西。我凝视着它。捧在我掌心里的是挡在我与死亡之间惟一的东西：最后一只橘黄色哨子。