Chapter 54

It rained all night. I had a horrible, sleepless time of it. It was noisy. On the rain catcher the rain made a drumming sound, and around me, coming from the darkness beyond, it made a hissing sound, as if I were at the centre of a great nest of angry snakes. Shifts in the wind changed the direction of the rain so that parts of me that were beginning to feel warm were soaked anew. I shifted the rain catcher, only to be unpleasantly surprised a few minutes later when the wind changed once more. I tried to keep a small part of me dry and warm, around my chest, where I had placed the survival manual, but the wetness spread with perverse determination. I spent the whole night shivering with cold. I worried constantly that the raft would come apart, that the knots holding me to the lifeboat would become loose, that a shark would attack. With my hands I checked the knots and lashings incessantly, trying to read them the way a blind man would read Braille.

The rain grew stronger and the sea rougher as the night progressed. The rope to the lifeboat tautened with a jerk rather than with a tug, and the rocking of the raft became more pronounced and erratic. It continued to float, rising above every wave, but there was no freeboard and the surf of every breaking wave rode clear across it, washing around me like a river washing around a boulder. The sea was warmer than the rain, but it meant that not the smallest part of me stayed dry that night.

At least I drank. I wasn't really thirsty, but I forced myself to drink. The rain catcher looked like an inverted umbrella, an umbrella blown open by the wind. The rain flowed to its centre, where there was a hole. The hole was connected by a rubber tube to a catchment pouch made of thick, transparent plastic. At first the water had a rubbery taste, but quickly the rain rinsed the catcher and the water tasted fine.

During those long, cold, dark hours, as the pattering of the invisible rain got to be deafening, and the sea hissed and coiled and tossed me about, I held on to one thought: Richard Parker. I hatched several plans to get rid of him so that the lifeboat might be mine.

Plan Number One: Push Him off the Lifeboat. What good would that do? Even if I did manage to shove 450 pounds of living, fierce animal off the lifeboat, tigers are accomplished swimmers. In the Sundarbans they have been known to swim five miles in open, choppy waters. If he found himself unexpectedly overboard, Richard Parker would simply tread water, climb back aboard and make me pay the price for my treachery.

Plan Number Two: Kill Him with the Six Morphine Syringes. But I had no idea what effect they would have on him. Would they be enough to kill him? And how exactly was I supposed to get the morphine into his system? I could remotely conceive surprising him once, for an instant, the way his mother had been when she was captured-but to surprise him long enough to give him six consecutive injections? Impossible. All I would do by pricking him with a needle would be to get a cuff in return that would take my head off.

Plan Number Three: Attack Him with All Available Weaponry. Ludicrous. I wasn't Tarzan. I was a puny, feeble, vegetarian life form. In India it took riding atop great big elephants and shooting with powerful rifles to kill tigers. What was I supposed to do here? Fire off a rocket flare in his face? Go at him with a hatchet in each hand and a knife between my teeth? Finish him off with straight and curving sewing needles? If I managed to nick him, it would be a feat. In return he would tear me apart limb by limb, organ by organ. For if there's one thing more dangerous than a healthy animal, it's an injured animal.

Plan Number Four: Choke Him. I had rope. If I stayed at the bow and got the rope to go around the stern and a noose to go around his neck, I could pull on the rope while he pulled to get at me. And so, in the very act of reaching for me, he would choke himself. A clever, suicidal plan.

Plan Number Five: Poison Him, Set Him on Fire, Electrocute Him. How? With what?

Plan Number Six: Wage a War of Attrition. All I had to do was let the unforgiving laws of nature run their course and I would be saved. Waiting for him to waste away and die would require no effort on my part. I had supplies for months to come. What did he have? Just a few dead animals that would soon go bad. What would he eat after that? Better still: where would he get water? He might last for weeks without food, but no animal, however mighty, can do without water for any extended period of time.

A modest glow of hope flickered to life within me, like a candle in the night. I had a plan and it was a good one. I only needed to survive to put it into effect.

第五十四章

    下了一夜的雨。我度过了一个可怕的无眠之夜。雨声很大。雨打在接雨器上，发出鼓点般的声响，而在我周围，从遥远的黑暗之中传来的，是嘶嘶的雨声，仿佛我正置身于一个满是愤怒的蛇的巨大蛇窝里。风向的改变也改变了雨的方向，因此我身体上刚开始感到温暖的部分又被重新淋湿了。我改变了接雨器的方向，几分钟后却很不高兴地惊讶地发现风向又变了。我试图让身体的一小部分，胸前的部分，保持干燥温暖，那是我放求生指南的地方，然而潮湿却故意下定决心要扩散开来。那一整夜我都冷得发抖。我不停地担心小筏子会散掉，把我与救生艇连接在一起的绳结会松开，鲨鱼会来袭击。．我不停地用手检查绳结和捆绑的绳子，试图摸明白，就像盲人读盲文一样。

    夜渐渐深了，雨下得更大，大海也更加汹涌。连接救生艇的缆绳不再被轻轻地牵动，而是猛地被拉紧了，小筏子摇晃得更厉害，更不稳了。它还在漂，每一个浪打来它都冲上浪头，但是已经没有干舷，每一朵开花浪冲过来，都冲上小筏子，从我身边冲刷而过，就像河水冲刷着卵石。海水比雨水温暖一些，但这就意味着那天夜里我身上连一小块干的地方也没有了。

    至少我喝到水了。我并木是真的很渴，但却强迫自己喝了。接雨器看上去像二把倒置的雨伞，一把被风吹开的雨伞。雨水流到接雨器中心，那里有一个洞。一根橡胶管把这个洞和用厚厚的透明塑料做的接雨水的袋子连了起来。开始水有一股橡胶的味道，但是很快雨水就把接雨器冲洗干净，水就没什么味道了。

    在那漫长、寒冷、黑暗的几个小时里，看不见的雨噼里啪啦的声音渐渐变得震耳欲聋，大海嘶嘶作响，海浪翻卷，把我扔过来扔过去，这时我只想着一件事：理查德·帕克。

    我策划了好几个摆脱他的方案，这样救生艇就可以是我的了。

    一号方案：把他推下救生艇。那有什么好处呢？即使我能把一只450磅重的活生生的猛兽推下救生艇，老虎可是游泳健将。在松达班，人们都知道它们能在波浪翻滚的河中央游5英里。如果理查德·帕克发现自己意外地翻下了船，他就会踩水，爬回船上，让我为自己的背叛付出代价。

    二号方案：用6支吗啡注射器杀死他。但是我不知道吗啡会对他有什么样的影响。这样的剂量能够杀死他吗？我该怎么把吗啡注射到他身体里呢？我只能模糊地想到可以出其不意地让他吃一惊，就像他妈妈被捉时那样？但是要让他吃惊的时间足以让我连续注射6支吗啡？不可能。我只能用针刺他一下，而这会换来他的一巴掌，这一巴掌会把我的头打掉下来的。

    三号方案：用所有能找得到的武器袭击他。荒唐。我又不是人猿泰山。我是一条瘦小、虚弱、吃素食的生命。在印度，人们得骑在庞大的大象背上，用火力很足的枪，才能杀死老虎。我在这儿舵怎么办？当着他的面发射一枚火箭照明弹？一手提一把斧子，嘴里叼一把刀，朝他扑过去？用直的和弯的缝衣针结果了他？如果我能砍伤他，那会是一项了不起的英雄业绩。作为回报，他会把我一只胳膊一条腿、一个器官一个器官地撕成碎片。因为，如果有什么比健康的动物更危险的话，那就是受伤的动物。

    四号方案：勒死他。我有绳子。如果我待在船头，让绳子绕过船尾，用绳套着套住他的脖子，我就能拉紧绳子，而他就会拉住绳子来抓我。这样，来抓我这个动作会让他勒死自己。一个聪明的自杀计划。

    五号方案：毒死他，烧死他，电死他。如何实施？用什么实施？

    六号方案：发动一场消耗战。我只需顺从无情的自然规律就能得救。等他渐渐衰弱、死亡，这并不需要我花费任何力气。我有足够好几个月吃的食物。他有什么？只有几具很快就会腐烂的动物尸体。吃完这些之后他能吃什么？更好的是：他能从哪儿弄到水呢？他不吃东西也许能活几个星期，但是任何动物，无论他多么强壮，都不可能不喝水还能活很长时间。

    我心里闪现出一朵希望的小火苗，就像黑夜中的一枝蜡烛。我有了一个计划，而且是个很好的计划。我只需要活着，就能实施这个计划。