Chapter 59

Alone or not, lost or not, I was thirsty and hungry. I pulled on the rope. There was a slight tension. As soon as I lessened my grip on it, it slid out, and the distance between the lifeboat and the raft increased. So the lifeboat drifted faster than the raft, pulling it along. I noted the fact without thinking anything of it. My mind was more focused on the doings of Richard Parker.

By the looks of it, he was under the tarpaulin.

I pulled the rope till I was right next to the bow. I reached up to the gunnel. As I was crouched, preparing myself for a quick raid on the locker, a series of waves got me thinking. I noticed that with the raft next to it, the lifeboat had changed directions. It was no longer perpendicular to the waves but broadside to them and was beginning to roll from side to side, that rolling that was so unsettling for the stomach. The reason for this change became clear to me: the raft, when let out, was acting as a sea anchor, as a drag that pulled on the lifeboat and turned its bow to face the waves. You see, waves and steady winds are usually perpendicular to each other. So, if a boat is pushed by a wind but held back by a sea anchor, it will turn until it offers the least resistance to the wind-that is, until it is in line with it and at right angles to the waves, which makes for a front-to-back pitching that is much more comfortable than a side-to-side rolling. With the raft next to the boat, the dragging effect was gone, and there was nothing to steer the boat head into the wind. Therefore it turned broadside and rolled.

What may seem like a detail to you was something which would save my life and which Richard Parker would come to regret.

As if to confirm my fresh insight, I heard him growl. It was a disconsolate growl, with something indefinably green and queasy in its tone. He was maybe a good swimmer, but he was not much of a sailor.

I had a chance yet.

Lest I got cocky about my abilities to manipulate him, I received at that moment a quiet but sinister warning about what I was up against. It seemed Richard Parker was such a magnetic pole of life, so charismatic in his vitality, that other expressions of life found it intolerable. I was on the point of raising myself over the bow when I heard a gentle thrashing buzz. I saw something small land in the water next to me.

It was a cockroach. It floated for a second or two before being swallowed by an underwater mouth. Another cockroach landed in the water. In the next minute, ten or so cockroaches plopped into the water on either side of the bow. Each was claimed by a fish.

The last of the foreign life forms was abandoning ship.

I carefully brought my eyes over the gunnel. The first thing I saw, lying in a fold of the tarpaulin above the bow bench, was a large cockroach, perhaps the patriarch of the clan. I watched it, strangely interested. When it decided it was time, it deployed its wings, rose in the air with a minute clattering, hovered above the lifeboat momentarily, as if making sure no one had been left behind, and then veered overboard to its death.

Now we were two. In five days the populations of orang-utans, zebras, hyenas, rats, flies and cockroaches had been wiped out. Except for the bacteria and worms that might still be alive in the remains of the animals, there was no other life left on the lifeboat but Richard Parker and me.

It was not a comforting thought.

I lifted myself and breathlessly opened the locker lid. I deliberately did not look under the tarpaulin for fear that looking would be like shouting and would attract Richard Parker's attention. Only once the lid was leaning against the tarpaulin did I dare let my senses consider what was beyond it.

A smell came to my nose, a musky smell of urine, quite sharp, what every cat cage in a zoo smells of. Tigers are highly territorial, and it is with their urine that they mark the boundaries of their territory. Here was good news wearing a foul dress: the odour was coming exclusively from below the tarpaulin. Richard Parker's territorial claims seemed to be limited to the floor of the boat. This held promise. If I could make the tarpaulin mine, we might get along.

I held my breath, lowered my head and cocked it to the side to see beyond the edge of the lid. There was rainwater, about four inches of it, sloshing about the floor of the lifeboat-Richard Parker's own freshwater pond. He was doing exactly what I would be doing in his place: cooling off in the shade. The day was getting beastly hot. He was flat on the floor of the boat, facing away from me, his hind legs sticking straight back and splayed out, back paws facing up, and stomach and inner thighs lying directly against the floor. The position looked silly but was no doubt very pleasant.

I returned to the business of survival. I opened a carton of emergency ration and ate my fill, about one-third of the package. It was remarkable how little it took to make my stomach feel full. I was about to drink from the rain-catcher pouch slung across my shoulder when my eyes fell upon the graduated drinking beakers. If I couldn't go for a dip, could I at least have a sip? My own supplies of water would not last forever. I took hold of one of the beakers, leaned over, lowered the lid just as much as I needed to and tremulously dipped the beaker into Parker's Pond, four feet from his back paws. His upturned pads with their wet fur looked like little desert islands surrounded by seaweed.

I brought back a good 500 millilitres. It was a little discoloured. Specks were floating in it. Did I worry about ingesting some horrid bacteria? I didn't even think about it. All I had on my mind was my thirst. I drained that beaker to the dregs with great satisfaction.

Nature is preoccupied with balance, so it did not surprise me that nearly right away I felt the urge to urinate. I relieved myself in the beaker. I produced so exactly the amount I had just downed that it was as if a minute hadn't passed and I were still considering Richard Parker's rainwater. I hesitated. I felt the urge to tilt the beaker into my mouth once more. I resisted the temptation. But it was hard. Mockery be damned, my urine looked delicious! I was not suffering yet from dehydration, so the liquid was pale in colour. It glowed in the sunlight, looking like a glass of apple juice. And it was guaranteed fresh, which certainly couldn't be said of the canned water that was my staple. But I heeded my better judgment. I splashed my urine on the tarpaulin and over the locker lid to stake my claim.

I stole another two beakers of water from Richard Parker, without urinating this time. I felt as freshly watered as a potted plant.

Now it was time to improve my situation. I turned to the contents of the locker and the many promises they held.

I brought out a second rope and tethered the raft to the lifeboat with it.

I discovered what a solar still is. A solar still is a device to produce fresh water from salt water. It consists of an inflatable transparent cone set upon a round lifebuoy-like buoyancy chamber that has a surface of black rubberized canvas stretched across its centre. The still operates on the principle of distillation: sea water lying beneath the sealed cone on the black canvas is heated by the sun and evaporates, gathering on the inside surface of the cone. This salt-free water trickles down and collects in a gully on the perimeter of the cone, from which it drains into a pouch. The lifeboat came equipped with twelve solar stills. I read the instructions carefully, as the survival manual told me to. I inflated all twelve cones with air and I filled each buoyancy chamber with the requisite ten litres of sea water. I strung the stills together, tying one end of the flotilla to the lifeboat and the other to the raft, which meant that not only would I not lose any stills should one of my knots become loose, but also that I had, in effect, a second emergency rope to keep me tethered to the lifeboat. The stills looked pretty and very technological as they floated on the water, but they also looked flimsy, and I was doubtful of their capacity to produce fresh water.

I directed my attention to improving the raft. I examined every knot that held it together, making sure each was tight and secure. After some thought, I decided to transform the fifth oar, the footrest oar, into a mast of sorts. I undid the oar. With the sawtoothed edge of the hunting knife I painstakingly cut a notch into it, about halfway down, and with the knife's point I drilled three holes through its flat part. Work was slow but satisfying. It kept my mind busy. When I had finished I lashed the oar in a vertical position to the inside of one of the corners of the raft, flat part, the masthead, rising in the air, handle disappearing underwater. I ran the rope tightly into the notch, to prevent the oar from slipping down. Next, to ensure that the mast would stand straight, and to give myself lines from which to hang a canopy and supplies, I threaded ropes through the holes I had drilled in the masthead and tied them to the tips of the horizontal oars. I strapped the life jacket that had been attached to the footrest oar to the base of the mast. It would play a double role: it would provide extra flotation to compensate for the vertical weight of the mast, and it would make for a slightly raised seat for me.

I threw a blanket over the lines. It slid down. The angle of the lines was too steep. I folded the lengthwise edge of the blanket over once, cut two holes midway down, about a foot apart, and linked the holes with a piece of string, which I made by unweaving a length of rope. I threw the blanket over the lines again, with the new girdle string going around the masthead. I now had a canopy.

It took me a good part of the day to fix up the raft. There were so many details to look after. The constant motion of the sea, though gentle, didn't make my work any easier. And I had to keep an eye on Richard Parker. The result was no galleon. The mast, so called, ended hardly a few inches above my head. As for the deck, it was just big enough to sit on cross-legged or to lie on in a tight, nearly-to-term fetal position. But I wasn't complaining. It was seaworthy and it would save me from Richard Parker.

By the time I had finished my work, the afternoon was nearing its end. I gathered a can of water, a can opener, four biscuits of survival ration and four blankets. I closed the locker (very softly this time), sat down on the raft and let out the rope. The lifeboat drifted away. The main rope tensed, while the security rope, which I had deliberately measured out longer, hung limply. I laid two blankets beneath me, carefully folding them so that they didn't touch the water. I wrapped the other two around my shoulders and rested my back against the mast. I enjoyed the slight elevation I gained from sitting on the extra life jacket. I was hardly higher up from the water than one would be from a floor sitting on a thick cushion; still, I hoped not to get wet so much.

I enjoyed my meal as I watched the sun's descent in a cloudless sky. It was a relaxing moment. The vault of the world was magnificently tinted. The stars were eager to participate; hardly had the blanket of colour been pulled a little than they started to shine through the deep blue. The wind blew with a faint, warm breeze and the sea moved about kindly, the water peaking and troughing like people dancing in a circle who come together and raise their hands and move apart and come together again, over and over.

Richard Parker sat up. Only his head and a little of his shoulders showed above the gunnel. He looked out. I shouted, "Hello, Richard Parker!" and I waved. He looked at me. He snorted or sneezed, neither word quite captures it. Prusten again. What a stunning creature. Such a noble mien. How apt that in full it is a Royal Bengal tiger. I counted myself lucky in a way. What if I had ended up with a creature that looked silly or ugly, a tapir or an ostrich or a flock of turkeys? That would have been a more trying companionship in some ways.

I heard a splash. I looked down at the water. I gasped. I thought I was alone. The stillness in the air, the glory of the light, the feeling of comparative safety-all had made me think so. There is commonly an element of silence and solitude to peace, isn't there? It's hard to imagine being at peace in a busy subway station, isn't it? So what was all this commotion?

With just one glance I discovered that the sea is a city. Just below me, all around, unsuspected by me, were highways, boulevards, streets and roundabouts bustling with submarine traffic. In water that was dense, glassy and flecked by millions of lit-up specks of plankton, fish like trucks and buses and cars and bicycles and pedestrians were madly racing about, no doubt honking and hollering at each other. The predominant colour was green. At multiple depths, as far as I could see, there were evanescent trails of phosphorescent green bubbles, the wake of speeding fish. As soon as one trail faded, another appeared. These trails came from all directions and disappeared in all directions. They were like those time-exposure photographs you see of cities at night, with the long red streaks made by the tail lights of cars. Except that here the cars were driving above and under each other as if they were on interchanges that were stacked ten storeys high. And here the cars were of the craziest colours. The dorados-there must have been over fifty patrolling beneath the raft-showed off their bright gold, blue and green as they whisked by. Other fish that I could not identify were yellow, brown, silver, blue, red, pink, green, white, in all kinds of combinations, solid, streaked and speckled. Only the sharks stubbornly refused to be colourful. But whatever the size or colour of a vehicle, one thing was constant: the furious driving. There were many collisions-all involving fatalities, I'm afraid-and a number of cars spun wildly out of control and collided against barriers, bursting above the surface of the water and splashing down in showers of luminescence. I gazed upon this urban hurly-burly like someone observing a city from a hot-air balloon. It was a spectacle wondrous and awe-inspiring. This is surely what Tokyo must look like at rush hour.

I looked on until the lights went out in the city.

From the Tsimtsum all I had seen were dolphins. I had assumed that the Pacific, but for passing schools of fish, was a sparsely inhabited waste of water. I have learned since that cargo ships travel too quickly for fish. You are as likely to see sea life from a ship as you are to see wildlife in a forest from a car on a highway. Dolphins, very fast swimmers, play about boats and ships much like dogs chase cars: they race along until they can no longer keep up. If you want to see wildlife, it is on foot, and quietly, that you must explore a forest. It is the same with the sea. You must stroll through the Pacific at a walking pace, so to speak, to see the wealth and abundance that it holds.

I settled on my side. For the first time in five days I felt a measure of calm. A little bit of hope-hard earned, well deserved, reasonable-glowed in me. I fell asleep.

第五十九章

    无论孤独与否，无论迷失与否，我都又渴又饿。我拉了拉缆绳。有些紧。我刚松手，缆绳就滑了出来，救生艇和小筏子之间的距离拉大了。这么说，救生艇比小筏子漂得快，在拖着小筏子走。我注意到了这个事实，却没有想什么。我的心思更多的是放在理查德·帕克的动作上。

    看上去他在油布下面。

    我 拉住缆绳，让自己靠到船头旁边。我抬起胳膊，去抓舷边。就在我蹲在那儿，准备对锁柜发动突然袭击的时候，几个浪头让我思考起来。我注意到小筏子靠拢后，救 生艇改变了方向，不再是与海浪的方向垂直，而是用舷侧对着海浪了，而且船开始左右摇晃，晃得胃里很不舒服。产生这一变化的原因很清楚：小筏子被放出去的时 候，起到了和海锚相同的作用，它拉着救生艇，让救生艇改变方向，用船头对着海浪。你知道，海浪的方向与变化不大的风的方向通常是相互垂直的。因此，如果船 被风向前推，却又被海锚拉住了，它就会改变方向，直到对风形成最小的阻力——也就是说，直到它与风的方向一致，与海浪的方向垂直，这样它就会前后颠簸，这 比左右摇晃舒服多了。小筏子靠拢救生艇以后，拉力消失了，没有力量能够操纵救生艇的方向，让它顶着风。于是它横了过来，并且摇晃起来。

    这个在你看来也许很小的细节后来却救了我的命，而且让理查德·帕克后悔不已。

    好像是在证实我刚悟出的道理似的，我听见他吼了起来。那是一种愁闷的吼声，声音中带着难以名状的病痛与不安的腔调。也许他是个游泳健将，但他不是个好水手。

    我还有机会。

    为了不使我对控制他的能力惑到骄傲，我在那一刻受到了对我所面临的情况的轻声但却不祥的警告。仿佛理查德·帕克是生命的一个磁极，他的生命力如此超凡，使其他的生命形式都无法忍受。我正准备爬上船头，突然听见轻轻的嗞的一声拍打声。我看见一个小东西落迸我旁边的水里。

    是一只蟑螂。它在水上浮了一两秒钟，就被水下的一张嘴吞了下去。又一只蟑螂落进了水里。在接下来的几分钟里，大约有十只蟑螂从船头两边扑通扑通地跳迸了水里。所有蟑螂都被鱼吃了。

    最后一种其他的生命形式正在弃船离开。

    我 小心地越过船舷看去。我第一眼看见的，是船头坐板上面的油布的一道褶缝里躺着的一只大蟑螂，也许是这个蟑螂家族的族长。我看着它，感到异常好奇。当它认定 时候已到时，便展开翅膀，飞到空中，发出一声微弱的撞击声，绕着救生艇飞了几圈，似乎是在查看是否确实一只都没有留下，然后改变方向，飞出船外，朝死亡飞 去。

    现在就剩下我们俩了。五天之内，猩猩、斑马、鬣狗、老鼠和蟑螂都被消灭了。除了吃剩的动物尸体上也许还生活着细菌和小虫子，船上除了理查德·帕克和我已经没有其他生命了。

    这可不是个让人感到安慰的想法。

    我抬起身子，屏住呼吸，打开了锁柜盖子。我故意不朝油布下面看，害怕看一眼会像叫一声一样吸引理查德·帕克的注意力。盖子靠在油布上的时候，我才敢让自己考虑油布那边是什么。

    一 阵气味钻进我的鼻子，是带麝香气的尿味，非常刺鼻，动物园里每只猫科动物的笼子里都会有这种味儿。老虎的地盘观念很强，它们是用尿液宋标出地盘边界的。这 气味虽然恶臭，但却是个好消息：气味全部来自油布下面。理查德·帕克似乎只要求拥有船板。这就有了希望。如果我能把油布变成我的地盘，也许我们可以和睦相 处。

    我屏住呼吸，低下头，侧向一边，朝盖子那边看去。船板上晃动着雨水，大约有四英寸深——那是理查德·帕克自己的淡水池。他正在做我处在 他的位置一定会做的事：乘凉。天开始变得热得要命。他趴在船板上，背对着我，后腿分开，笔直地向后伸，后脚朝上，肚子和大腿内侧直接贴着船板。这个姿势看 上去很傻，但显然很舒服。

    我接着为生存忙碌。我打开一盒急用口粮吃了个饱，吃掉了大约三分之一盒。只吃这么少就可以让肚子感觉饱了，真令人 惊奇。我正准备喝挂在肩膀上的接雨器袋子里的水，这时我看见了带刻度的喝水用的烧杯。如果我不能去洗个澡，至少我可以喝一小口吧？我自己的水不会永远都喝 不完的。我拿起一只烧杯，身体向前倾，把锁柜盖子放下一点点，刚好够我探过身子，颤颤巍巍地把烧杯伸进帕克水池里距离他的后脚四英尺的地方。他脚上朝上的 肉垫和潮湿的毛看上去就像被海草包围的沙漠小岛。

    我舀回了足足500毫升。水有些变色了。里面漂浮着斑斑污点。我有没有担心会咽下某种可怕的细菌——我甚至没有想到这个。我心里只想着我渴。我非常满意地把烧杯里的水喝了个精光。

    大 自然充满了平衡，因此，当我几乎立刻就想小便的时候，我一点儿也不感到惊讶。我尿在了烧杯里。小便的量和我刚才大口喝下去的水刚好一样多，似乎一分钟并没 有过击，我还在想着理查德·帕克的雨水。我犹豫了片刻。我很想再把烧杯里的东西倒迸嘴里。我抵制住了诱惑。但这太难了。让嘲笑见鬼去吧，我的尿看上去很鲜 美！我还没有脱水，因此尿液的颜色是淡的。它在阳光下闪着光，像一杯苹果汁。而且它肯定是新鲜的，而我主要饮用的罐装水是否新鲜却没有保证。但是我听从了 自己明智的判断，把尿液洒在了油布上和锁柜盖子上，划出我的地盘。

    我从理查德·帕克那里又偷了两烧杯水，但这次没有小便。我感到自己就像一株花盆里的植物一样刚被浇了水。

    现在是改善我的处境的时候了。我把注意力转向锁柜里的东西和它们所包含的许多希望。

    我又拿出一根绳子，用它把小筏子系在救生艇上。

    我 弄明白了太阳能蒸馏器是什么。太阳能蒸馏器是利用海水制备淡水的一种装置。它里面有一只可充气的透明圆锥形的筒，这只筒架在一个圆形的像救生圈一样的能浮 于水的容器上，容器表面蒙着一层涂了橡胶的黑色帆布。蒸馏器是根据蒸馏的原理工作的：封闭的锥形筒下面黑色的帆布上的海水被太阳加热后蒸发，蒸汽被锥形筒 内壁收集起来。不含盐的细细的水流流下去，在锥形筒周边的水沟里汇集，然后从那里流进一只袋子。救生艇上一共有12台太阳能蒸馏器。我按照求生指南的要求 仔细阅读了说明。我给12只锥形简都充满空气，把每一只能浮于水的容器都装上必不可少的十升海水。我用绳子把所有蒸馏器都串在一起，然后把这只小船队的一 头系在救生艇上，另一头系在小筏子上，这就不仅意味着即使一只绳结松了，我也不会丢掉任何一只蒸馏器，而且意味着实际上我又有了一根紧急情况下可用的绳 子，把我和救生艇系在一起。蒸馏器浮在水上，看上去很漂亮，技木含量很高，但同时也很容易损坏，而且我怀疑它们是否能生产出淡水来。

    我把注 意力转移到了改进小筏子上。我检查了每一只将小筏子绑在一起的绳结，确保每一只都系得很紧很安全。思考一番之后，我决定把第五支船桨，就是用来搁脚的那 只，变成一根类似于桅杆的东西。我把船桨解下来，用猎刀带锯齿的一边在船桨上大约中间的位置费力地锯出一道凹槽，然后用刀尖扁平的部分钻了三个孔。工作进 行得缓慢，但令人满意。这让我的大脑一直忙于思考。做好这两件事后，我把船桨竖着捆扎在小筏子一角的内侧，扁平部分，即桅顶，竖在空中，桨柄伸进水下。我 把缆绳紧紧卡在凹槽里，防止船桨滑下来。接着，为了保证桅杆能立得直，也为了让自己能有几根绳子挂顶篷和食品，我把缆绳穿过打在桅顶上的孔，系在几支水平 的桨的末端。我把原来系在搁脚的桨上的救生衣牢牢扎在桅杆底部。救生衣有两个作用：它可以增加浮力，从而抵消桅杆垂直的重量，它还可以让我有一个稍微高起 来一些的座位。

    我把一块毯子扔到绳子上。毯子滑了下来。绳子的角度太陡了。我把毯子长头一边折了两道，在中间戳了两个孔，两个孔之间的距离大约是一英尺，然后把一根缆绳拆开，做成细绳，用细绳把两个孔连起来。我又把毯子扔到绳子上，把新的系绳绕在桅顶上。现在我就有了一个顶篷。

    我花了大半天的时间才把小筏子修好。需要照顾到的细节太多了。大海不停的起伏虽然轻柔，却并没有让我的工作变得容易一些。我还得留意理查德·帕克。小筏子并 没有变成一艘西班牙大帆船。所谓的桅杆结果只高出我头顶几英寸。至于甲板，它只够我盘腿坐在上面，或者紧紧蜷缩着，用差不多可以称做胎位的姿势躺着。但我 不是在抱怨。它经得起海上的风浪，它会把我从理查德·帕克那里救出来的。

    等我干完时，下午已经快要结束了。我拿了一罐水，一只开罐器，用做 生存口粮的4块饼干和4条毯子。我把锁柜盖上（这次动作很轻），坐上小筏子，放开绳子。救生艇漂走了。主缆绳拉紧了，但是我故意放长了些的起保障作用的缆 绳还松松的。我把两条毯子垫在身体下面，小心地折好，不让它们碰到水。我用另两条毯子围住肩膀，然后背靠桅杆坐着。因为坐在多出来的一件救生衣上，我被稍 微抬高了一点，我很喜欢这样。我比水面高不了多少，就像坐在厚垫子上的人比地板高不了多少一样；尽管如此，我还是希望不要被弄得太湿了。

    我 一边看着太阳从万里无云的天空落下，一边享受着晚餐。这是放松的时刻。世界的穹顶染上了绚丽的色彩。星星也迫不及待地想要参加进来；彩色的毯子刚刚拉开， 它们便开始在深蓝色的天幕上闪耀起来。微风懒洋洋地温暖地吹拂着，大海惬意地起伏着，海浪升起来又落下去，像围成圆圈跳舞的人一起跑到圈子中间，举起手 臂，又跑开来，然后又跑到一起，一次又一次。

    理查德·帕克坐了起来。只有他的脑袋和一小部分肩膀露出了舷边。他朝外面看去。我叫道：“你 好，理查德·帕克！”还挥了挥手。他看着我。他喷了个响鼻，或者打了个喷嚏，这两个词都不够准确。又是打招呼。多好的一只动物啊。如此高贵的风度。他的全 称是皇家盂加拉虎，这个称呼太合适了。我认为自己在某种意义上是幸运的。要是我最终和一只看上去傻乎乎的或相貌丑陋的动物在一起，一只貘或一只鸵鸟或一群 火鸡，那会怎么样？那从很多方面看都会是更加恼人的伙伴关系。

    我听见扑通一声。我诋头看看海水，吃惊得倒抽了一口气。我以为自己是孤独一人。静止的空气、灿烂的星光、相对安全的感觉——这一切都让我这么想。通常平静之中包含着安静和孤独的因素，不是吗？很难想像在繁忙的地铁车站感到平静，不是吗？那么所有这些喧闹骚动是什么呢？

    只 匆匆一眼，我便发现大海是座城市。就在我脚下，在我身边，我从未察觉到的是高速公路、林阴大道、大街和绕道，海下的车辆行人熙熙攘攘。在颜色深暗、清澈透 明、点缀着几百万发出亮光的微小的浮游生物的水里，鱼儿好像卡车、公共汽车、小汽车、自行车和行人在疯狂疾驰，同时无疑在互相鸣响喇叭，大叫大喊。最主要 的颜色是绿色。在我所能看见的深度不同的水里，有发出磷光的绿色气泡形成的一道道转瞬即逝的光痕，那是快速游过的鱼留下的痕迹。一道光痕刚刚消失，另一道 光痕又立即出现了。这些光痕从四面八方汇集而来，又向四面八方消散而去。它们就像你看见的那些定时曝光的夜晚的城市的照片，上面有汽车尾灯拖出的长长的红 色光痕。只是这儿的小汽车在其他车的上面或下面开，好像它们是在堆成十层高的立交桥上。这儿的小汽车有着最令人赞叹的颜色。鲅鳅——小筏子下面一定有五十 多条在巡游——迅速游过时炫耀着身上鲜艳的金色、蓝色和绿色。其他我认不出来的鱼有黄色的、棕色的、银色的、蓝色的、红色的、粉红的、绿色的、白色的，有 色彩斑斓的，有纯色的，有长着条纹和斑点的。只有鲨鱼顽固地拒绝色彩。

    但是无论车辆有多大，是什么颜色，有一点是不变的：车开得很猛。发生 了很多次撞车——很遗憾，每次都有死亡——还有很多小汽车失去了控制，疯狂地旋转着，撞上了障碍物，冲出水面，又在阵阵冷光中扑通扑通地落回水里。我出神 地看着这城市的喧闹，就像一个人在热气球上观察一座城市。这是一幅令人惊叹、使人敬畏的景象。东京在上下班的高峰期时一定就是这幅景象。

    我一直看着，直到城市的灯光熄灭。

    在 “齐姆楚姆”号上，我只见过海豚。当时我以为要不是有经过的鱼群，太平洋就是一片居民稀少的荒芜的水域。从那以后我才知道，货船开得太快，鱼跟不上。你在 船上看见海洋生物的可能性就和你在高速公路上的汽车里看见森林里的野生动物的可能性一样小。海豚游的速度非常快，它们在小船和大船周围玩耍，就像狗在追 猫：它们一直向前冲，直到跟不上为止。如果你想看野生动物，那就必须在森林里静静地步行考察。在大海上也是一样。打个比方说，你必须用步行的速度在太平洋 上逛过去，才能看到那里的富有和丰饶。

    我侧身躺了下来。五天来我第一次感到了几分平静。一线希望——来之不易、受之无愧、合情合理的希望——在我心中燃起。我睡着了。