Chapter 45

I was cold. It was a distracted observation, as if it didn't concern me. Daybreak came. It happened quickly, yet by imperceptible degrees. A corner of the sky changed colours. The air began filling with light. The calm sea opened up around me like a great book. Still it felt like night. Suddenly it was day.

Warmth came only when the sun, looking like an electrically lit orange, broke across the horizon, but I didn't need to wait that long to feel it. With the very first rays of light it came alive in me: hope. As things emerged in outline and filled with colour, hope increased until it was like a song in my heart. Oh, what it was to bask in it! Things would work out yet. The worst was over. I had survived the night. Today I would be rescued. To think that, to string those words together in my mind, was itself a source of hope. Hope fed on hope. As the horizon became a neat, sharp line, I scanned it eagerly. The day was clear again and visibility was perfect. I imagined Ravi would greet me first and with a tease. "What's this?" he would say. "You find yourself a great big lifeboat and you fill it with animals? You think you're Noah or something?" Father would be unshaven and dishevelled. Mother would look to the sky and take me in her arms. I went through a dozen versions of what it was going to be like on the rescue ship, variations on the theme of sweet reunion. That morning the horizon might curve one way, my lips resolutely curved the other, in a smile.

Strange as it might sound, it was only after a long time that I looked to see what was happening in the lifeboat. The hyena had attacked the zebra. Its mouth was bright red and it was chewing on a piece of hide. My eyes automatically searched for the wound, for the area under attack. I gasped with horror.

The zebra's broken leg was missing. The hyena had bitten it off and dragged it to the stern, behind the zebra. A flap of skin hung limply over the raw stump. Blood was still dripping. The victim bore its suffering patiently, without showy remonstrations. A slow and constant grinding of its teeth was the only visible sign of distress. Shock, revulsion and anger surged through me. I felt intense hatred for the hyena. I thought of doing something to kill it. But I did nothing. And my outrage was short-lived. I must be honest about that. I didn't have pity to spare for long for the zebra. When your own life is threatened, your sense of empathy is blunted by a terrible, selfish hunger for survival. It was sad that it was suffering so much-and being such a big, strapping creature it wasn't at the end of its ordeal- but there was nothing I could do about it. I felt pity and then I moved on. This is not something I am proud of. I am sorry I was so callous about the matter. I have not forgotten that poor zebra and what it went through. Not a prayer goes by that I don't think of it.

There was still no sign of Orange Juice. I turned my eyes to the horizon again.

That afternoon the wind picked up a little and I noticed something about the lifeboat: despite its weight, it floated lightly on the water, no doubt because it was carrying less than its capacity. We had plenty of freeboard, the distance between the water and the gunnel; it would take a mean sea to swamp us. But it also meant that whatever end of the boat was facing the wind tended to fall away, bringing us broadside to the waves. With small waves the result was a ceaseless, fist-like beating against the hull, while larger waves made for a tiresome rolling of the boat as it leaned from side to side. This jerky and incessant motion was making me feel queasy.

Perhaps I would feel better in a new position. I slid down the oar and shifted back onto the bow. I sat facing the waves, with the rest of the boat to my left. I was closer to the hyena, but it wasn't stirring.

It was as I was breathing deeply and concentrating on making my nausea go away that I saw Orange Juice. I had imagined her completely out of sight, near the bow beneath the tarpaulin, as far from the hyena as she could get. Not so. She was on the side bench, just beyond the edge of the hyena's indoor track and barely hidden from me by the bulge of rolled-up tarpaulin. She lifted her head only an inch or so and right away I saw her.

Curiosity got the best of me. I had to see her better. Despite the rolling of the boat I brought myself to a kneeling position. The hyena looked at me, but did not move. Orange Juice came into sight. She was deeply slouched and holding on to the gunnel with both her hands, her head sunk very low between her arms. Her mouth was open and her tongue was lolling about. She was visibly panting. Despite the tragedy afflicting me, despite not feeling well, I let out a laugh. Everything about Orange Juice at that moment spelled one word: seasickness. The image of a new species popped into my head: the rare seafaring green orang-utan. I returned to my sitting position. The poor dear looked so humanly sick! It is a particularly funny thing to read human traits in animals, especially in apes and monkeys, where it is so easy. Simians are the clearest mirrors we have in the animal world. That is why they are so popular in zoos. I laughed again. I brought my hands to my chest, surprised at how I felt. Oh my. This laughter was like a volcano of happiness erupting in me. And Orange Juice had not only cheered me up; she had also taken on both our feelings of seasickness. I was feeling fine now.

I returned to scrutinizing the horizon, my hopes high.

Besides being deathly seasick, there was something else about Orange Juice that was remarkable: she was uninjured. And she had her back turned to the hyena, as if she felt she could safely ignore it. The ecosystem on this lifeboat was decidedly baffling. Since there are no natural conditions in which a spotted hyena and an orangutan can meet, there being none of the first in Borneo and none of the second in Africa, there is no way of knowing how they would relate. But it seemed to me highly improbable, if not totally incredible, that when brought together these frugivorous tree-dwellers and carnivorous savannah-dwellers would so radically carve out their niches as to pay no attention to each other. Surely an orang-utan would smell of prey to a hyena, albeit a strange one, one to be remembered afterwards for producing stupendous hairballs, nonetheless better-tasting than an exhaust pipe and well worth looking out for when near trees. And surely a hyena would smell of a predator to an orangutan, a reason for being vigilant when a piece of durian has been dropped to the ground accidentally. But nature forever holds surprises. Perhaps it was not so. If goats could be brought to live amicably with rhinoceros, why not orang-utans with hyenas? That would be a big winner at a zoo. A sign would have to be put up. I could see it already: "Dear Public, Do not be afraid for the orang-utans! They are in the trees because that is where they live, not because they are afraid of the spotted hyenas. Come back at mealtime, or at sunset when they get thirsty, and you will see them climbing down from their trees and moving about the grounds, absolutely unmolested by the hyenas." Father would be fascinated.

Sometime that afternoon I saw the first specimen of what would become a dear, reliable friend of mine. There was a bumping and scraping sound against the hull of the lifeboat. A few seconds later, so close to the boat I could have leaned down and grabbed it, a large sea turtle appeared, a hawksbill, flippers lazily turning, head sticking out of the water. It was striking-looking in an ugly sort of way, with a rugged, yellowish brown shell about three feet long and spotted with patches of algae, and a dark green face with a sharp beak, no lips, two solid holes for nostrils, and black eyes that stared at me intently. The expression was haughty and severe, like that of an ill-tempered old man who has complaining on his mind. The queerest thing about the reptile was simply that it was. It looked incongruous, floating there in the water, so odd in its shape compared to the sleek, slippery design of fish. Yet it was plainly in its element and it was I who was the odd one out. It hovered by the boat for several minutes.

I said to it, "Go tell a ship I'm here. Go, go." It turned and sank out of sight, back flippers pushing water in alternate strokes.

 第四十五章

    我冷。这是我不经意之间注意到的事情，似乎与我无关。天破晓了。白昼来临得如此迅速，却又是令人难以觉察地渐渐到来的。天空的一角改变了颜色。空气中开始充满了光亮。平静的大海像一本巨大的书一样在我身边打开了。四周仍然感觉像是黑夜。突然就变成了白天。

    当太阳像一个被电点亮的橘子，冲出地平线时，空气才开始变得温暖起来，但我要感觉到温暖，却不需要等那么久。第一缕阳光刚刚照射下来，温暖的感觉便在我心中活跃起来：那是希望带来的温暖。随着物体的轮廓渐渐出现，充满了色彩，希望也不断地增长，直到在我心中变成了一首歌。噢，沐浴在希望中多好啊！事情终归会解决的。最糟糕的事已经过去了。我活过了黑夜。今天我就会得救的。想到这儿，在心里将这些词串在一起，这本身就是希望的源泉。希望之中又滋生出新的希望。当地平线变成一条简洁清晰的线条时，我急切地仔细地看着地平线的方向。天又晴朗起来，能见度很高。我想像拉维会第一个欢迎我，取笑我。“这是什么？”他会说。“你给自己找了一只了不起的大救生艇，在里面装满了动物？你以为自己是诺亚还是什么？竹父亲肯定没有刮胡子，头发凌乱。母亲会看着天，把我拥迸怀里。我想像了十几条救援胎上的情景，各种甜蜜团圆的画面。那天

    早晨，地平线可能朝一个方向弯曲，而我的嘴唇却坚定地朝另一个方向弯曲，弯成了一个微笑。

    可能这听起来很奇怪，但我确实是在很长时间以后才去看救生艇上正在发生什么事。鬣狗袭击了斑马。它的嘴是鲜红的，正在啃一块皮。我的眼睛自然地开始寻找伤口，寻找被袭击的部位。我害怕得倒吸了一口凉气。

    斑马断了的腿不见了。鬣狗把断腿咬了下来，拖到了船尾，斑马的身后。一块皮松松垮垮地挂在外露的残肢上。血还在滴。受害者耐心地忍受着痛苦，没有做出引入注意的抗议。它在慢慢地不断地磨着牙，这是惟一能看得见的痛苦表示。震惊、厌恶和气愤猛然传遍我全身。我恨透了鬣狗。我想要做点儿什么，去杀死它。但我什么也没做。我的愤慨没有持续多久。这一点我必须老实承认。我不能对斑马长久地表示怜悯之情。当你自己的生命受到威胁时，你的同情便被恐惧和求生的自私渴望磨钝了。它非常痛苦，这太让人伤心了——它这么高大，这么强壮，它受的折磨还没有到头呢——但我无能为力。我感到它很可怜，然后便不再想这件事。我并不以此自豪。我很抱歉，我对这件事如此麻木不仁。我仍然没有忘记那匹斑马和它所忍受的痛苦。没有哪一次做祷告时我不想到它。

    仍然不见“橘子汁”。我又将目光转向了地平线。

    那天下午，风大了些，我开始注意到救生艇：尽管它很重，却轻轻地浮在海面上，毫无疑问，这是因为船上没有满员。干舷很高，也就是水面和舷侧的之间的距离很大；只有狂暴不羁的大海才能特我们淹没。但这也意味着无论船的哪一头迎着风，都会转变方向，让舷侧对着海浪。碎浪像拳头一样不断在船壳上敲打，而大浪则会让船先向一边倾斜，再向另一边倾斜，令人厌倦地晃来晃去。不断的颠簸让我感到恶心。

    也许换个姿势我会感觉好一些。我从船桨上滑下来，回到船头，面对海浪坐着，左手是船体的其余部分。我离鬣狗更近了，但它没有动。

    就在我深深地呼吸，集中精力消除恶心的感觉时，我看见了“橘子汁”。鬣狗看着我，但没有动。“橘子汁”进入了我的视线。她没精打采地坐着，两只手抓着舷边，头低低地埋在两只手臂之间。她张着嘴，伸出舌头。她显然在喘气。尽管我忍受着这场悲剧的折磨，尽管我感觉不舒服，我还是笑出了声来。那一刻“橘子汁”所有的表现都说明了一件事：晕船。一种新物种的形象跃人了我的脑海：一种罕见的能够航海的猩猩，还是个新手。我又恢复了坐的姿势。可怜的东西看上去像人一样不舒服！在动物身上看到人的特征是一件非常有趣的事情，这在猿猴和猴子身上很容易看到。猿猴是我们在动物界最清晰的镜子。我又笑起来。我用双手捂住胸口，对自己的感觉感到非常惊讶。噢，天啊。这笑声就像一座快乐的火山，正在我心中爆发。“橘子汁”不仅让我高兴了起来；她还承担了我们俩的晕船感觉。我感觉好多了。

    我又开始仔细搜索地平线，心中充满了希望。

    除了晕船晕得要死以外，还有一件关于“橘子汁”的事让人惊奇：她没有受伤。而且她背对着鬣狗，似乎感到自己很安全，不必理睬它。这只救生艇上的生态系统确实让人困惑不解。在自然环境中斑点鬣狗和猩猩不可能相遇，因为婆罗洲没有鬣狗，而非洲没有猩猩，因此我们不可能知道它们会如何相处。但是，当这些住在树上以水果为食的动物和热带稀树草原的食肉动物来到一起时，它们会如此清楚地划清各自的生态龛，不去注意对方，这种情况即使不是完全没有可能，似乎可能性也很低。猩猩在鬣狗闻来肯定是一只猎物，尽管是一只奇怪的猎物，一只因为会形成巨大的毛团而被记住的猎物，但是味道比排气管要好，值得在树丛附近寻找。鬣狗在猩猩闻来肯定是一只食肉动物，是一只榴莲偶然掉在地上时警惕的原因。但是大自然永远会引起我们惊讶。也许事情并非如此。如果山羊能够和犀牛友好相处，为什么猩猩就不能和鬣狗友好相处呢？这在动物园里一定会大受欢迎。得竖起一块牌子。我已经能看见牌子上的字了：蝉亲爱的游客，请不要为猩猩担心！它们待在树上是因为它们住在那里，而不是因为它们害怕斑点鬣狗。请在它们迸食时或太阳落山，它们口渴时回来，你们就会看见它们从树上爬下来，在地面上四处走动，完全不受鬣狗的骚扰。"父亲会着迷的。

    那天下午的某个时候我见到了第一种可能成为我亲爱的可靠的朋友的动物。船壳上有碰撞声和刮擦声。几秒钟后，一只大海龟出现了，它靠船那么近，我弯下腰去就能抓住它。那是一只玳瑁，它懒洋洋地划着鳍，从水里伸出了头。它丑陋的模样十分引人注目，坚固的发黄的棕色龟壳有大约三英尺长，上面长着一块块的海藻，深绿色的脸上长着一张尖尖的嘴，没有嘴唇，两只鼻孔就是两个实实在在的洞，黑色的眼睛目不转睛地看着我。那副表情既傲慢又严肃，像一个坏脾气的老头，心里总在抱怨。这只爬行动物的存在本身就是它的最奇怪之处。和线条优美的滑溜溜的鱼相比，它模样古怪，浮在水里显得很不协调。但是显然它是在自己的环境中，格格不入的是我。它围着船绕了几分钟。

    我对它说：¨去跟船说我在这儿。去吧，去吧。"它转过身，后鳍轮流划着水，一会儿便沉入水中，不见了踪影。