Chapter 41

The elements allowed me to go on living. The lifeboat did not sink. Richard Parker kept out of sight. The sharks prowled but did not lunge. The waves splashed me but did not pull me off.

I watched the ship as it disappeared with much burbling and belching. Lights flickered and went out. I looked about for my family, for survivors, for another lifeboat, for anything that might bring me hope. There was nothing. Only rain, marauding waves of black ocean and the flotsam of tragedy.

The darkness melted away from the sky. The rain stopped.

I could not stay in the position I was in forever. I was cold. My neck was sore from holding up my head and from all the craning I had been doing. My back hurt from leaning against the lifebuoy. And I needed to be higher up if I were to see other lifeboats.

I inched my way along the oar till my feet were against the bow of the boat. I had to proceed with extreme caution. My guess was that Richard Parker was on the floor of the lifeboat beneath the tarpaulin, his back to me, facing the zebra, which he had no doubt killed by now. Of the five senses, tigers rely the most on their sight. Their eyesight is very keen, especially in detecting motion. Their hearing is good. Their smell is average. I mean compared to other animals, of course. Next to Richard Parker, I was deaf, blind and nose-dead. But at the moment he could not see me, and in my wet condition could probably not smell me, and what with the whistling of the wind and the hissing of the sea as waves broke, if I were careful, he would not hear me. I had a chance so long as he did not sense me. If he did, he would kill me right away. Could he burst through the tarpaulin, I wondered.

Fear and reason fought over the answer. Fear said Yes. He was a fierce, 450-pound carnivore. Each of his claws was as sharp as a knife. Reason said No. The tarpaulin was sturdy canvas, not a Japanese paper wall. I had landed upon it from a height. Richard Parker could shred it with his claws with a little time and effort, but he couldn't pop through it like a jack-in-the-box. And he had not seen me. Since he had not seen me, he had no reason to claw his way through it.

I slid along the oar. I brought both my legs to one side of the oar and placed my feet on the gunnel. The gunnel is the top edge of a boat, the rim if you want. I moved a little more till my legs were on the boat. I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon of the tarpaulin. Any second I expected to see Richard Parker rising up and coming for me. Several times I had fits of fearful trembling. Precisely where I wanted to be most still-my legs-was where I trembled most. My legs drummed upon the tarpaulin. A more obvious rapping on Richard Parker's door couldn't be imagined. The trembling spread to my arms and it was all I could do to hold on. Each fit passed.

When enough of my body was on the boat I pulled myself up. I looked beyond the end of the tarpaulin. I was surprised to see that the zebra was still alive. It lay near the stern, where it had fallen, listless, but its stomach was still panting and its eyes were still moving, expressing terror. It was on its side, facing me, its head and neck awkwardly propped against the boat's side bench. It had badly broken a rear leg. The angle of it was completely unnatural. Bone protruded through skin and there was bleeding. Only its slim front legs had a semblance of normal position. They were bent and neatly tucked against its twisted torso. From time to time the zebra shook its head and barked and snorted. Otherwise it lay quietly.

It was a lovely animal. Its wet markings glowed brightly white and intensely black. I was so eaten up by anxiety that I couldn't dwell on it; still, in passing, as a faint afterthought, the queer, clean, artistic boldness of its design and the fineness of its head struck me. Of greater significance to me was the strange fact that Richard Parker had not killed it. In the normal course of things he should have killed the zebra. That's what predators do: they kill prey. In the present circumstances, where Richard Parker would be under tremendous mental strain, fear should have brought out an exceptional level of aggression. The zebra should have been properly butchered.

The reason behind its spared life was revealed shortly. It froze my blood-and then brought a slight measure of relief. A head appeared beyond the end of the tarpaulin. It looked at me in a direct, frightened way, ducked under, appeared again, ducked under again, appeared once more, disappeared a last time. It was the bear-like, balding-looking head of a spotted hyena. Our zoo had a clan of six, two dominant females and four subordinate males. They were supposed to be going to Minnesota. The one here was a male. I recognized it by its right ear, which was badly torn, its healed jagged edge testimony to old violence. Now I understood why Richard Parker had not killed the zebra: he was no longer aboard. There couldn't be both a hyena and a tiger in such a small space. He must have fallen off the tarpaulin and drowned.

I had to explain to myself how a hyena had come to be on the lifeboat. I doubted hyenas were capable of swimming in open seas. I concluded that it must have been on board all along, hiding under the tarpaulin, and that I hadn't noticed it when I landed with a bounce. I realized something else: the hyena was the reason those sailors had thrown me into the lifeboat. They weren't trying to save my life. That was the last of their concerns. They were using me as fodder. They were hoping that the hyena would attack me and that somehow I would get rid of it and make the boat safe for them, no matter if it cost me my life. Now I knew what they were pointing at so furiously just before the zebra appeared.

I never thought that finding myself confined in a small space with a spotted hyena would be good news, but there you go. In fact, the good news was double: if it weren't for this hyena, the sailor wouldn't have thrown me into the lifeboat and I would have stayed on the ship and I surely would have drowned; and if I had to share quarters with a wild animal, better the upfront ferocity of a dog than the power and stealth of a cat. I breathed the smallest sigh of relief. As a precautionary measure I moved onto the oar. I sat astride it, on the rounded edge of the speared lifebuoy, my left foot against the tip of the prow, my right foot on the gunnel. It was comfortable enough and I was facing the boat.

I looked about. Nothing but sea and sky. The same when we were at the top of a swell. The sea briefly imitated every land feature-every hill, every valley, every plain. Accelerated geotectonics. Around the world in eighty swells. But nowhere on it could I find my family. Things floated in the water but none that brought me hope. I could see no other lifeboats.

The weather was changing rapidly. The sea, so immense, so breathtakingly immense, was settling into a smooth and steady motion, with the waves at heel; the wind was softening to a tuneful breeze; fluffy, radiantly white clouds were beginning to light up in a vast fathomless dome of delicate pale blue. It was the dawn of a beautiful day in the Pacific Ocean. My shirt was already beginning to dry. The night had vanished as quickly as the ship.

I began to wait. My thoughts swung wildly. I was either fixed on practical details of immediate survival or transfixed by pain, weeping silently, my mouth open and my hands at my head.

第四十一章

    自然环境允许我继续活下去。救生艇没有沉。理查德·帕克一直没有出现。鲨鱼游来游去，但是没有冲上来。海浪溅在我身上，但是没有把我拉下去。

    我看着大船伴着打嗝声和汩汩声消失了。灯光闪了几下便熄灭了。我环顾四周，寻找我的家人，寻找幸存者，寻找另一只救生艇，寻找任何能够给我带来希望的东西。什么也没有。只有雨，黑色海洋上劫掠一切的浪，和悲剧过后漂浮的残骸。

    黑暗从天空渐渐消退。雨停了。

    我不能永远保持这样的姿势。我冷。我的脖子因为一直抬着头引颈张望而感到很酸。我的背因为靠在救生圈上而感到很痛。而且，如果要看见别的救生艇，我必须站得更高一些。

    我沿着船桨一寸一寸地移动，直到双脚能够踩到船头。我必须非常小心翼翼地向前移动。我猜理查德·帕克正在油布下面的船板上，背对着我，面对着斑马，斑马现在一定已经被他杀死了。在五种感觉中，老虎依赖最多的是视觉。它们的目光非常锐利，尤其是在肴移动的物体的时候。他们的听觉很好。嗅觉一般。当然，我是说和其他动物相比。和理查德.帕克相比，我又聋又瞎而且没有嗅觉。但是那一刻他没有看见我，因为我身上是湿的，也许他也没有闻到我，而且因为风在呼号，海浪破碎时嘶嘶尖啸，所以如果很小心的话，他也不会听见我。只要他不感觉到我，我就有机会。如果他感觉到了，就会立刻杀死我。他会从油布下面突然冲出来吗，我不知道。

    恐惧和理性给出截然不同的答案。恐惧说会的。他是一只凶猛的450磅重的食肉动物。他的每一根爪子都像刀一样尖利。理性说不会的。油布是用结实的帆布做的，不是日本纸墙。油布已经受住了我从高空落下的重量。理查德·帕克不用花多长时间，也不用花多大力气，就能用爪子把油布撕成碎片，但是他不能像揭开匣盖就能跳起来的玩偶一样突然跳出来。而且他没有看见我。既然他没有看见我，就没有理由要用爪子抓破油布冲出来。

    我沿着船桨滑下去。我把两条腿都放在船桨一侧，让双脚踩在舷侧。舷侧是一只船的上面的边缘，也可以说是船边。我又移动了一点儿，这样两条腿都在船上了。我的眼睛一刻也没有离开过油布边缘。我随时准备看见理查德·帕克站起来，朝我冲过来。有好几次我害怕得一阵阵发抖。我最希望静止不动的部位——我的两条腿——偏偏抖得最厉害。腿像击鼓一样敲打着油布。我想不出坯有什么在理查德·帕克的门上的拍打声能比这个更明显了。颤抖扩散到我的两只胳膊，我所能做的只有紧紧抓住。每一次颤抖都过去了。

    当大部分身体都到了船上的时候，我站了起来。我朝油布那端看去。我惊讶地看见斑马还活着。它在靠近船尾它摔下去的地方躺着，没精打采的，但是肚子仍然在急速地起伏，眼睛仍然在动，眼神里满是恐惧。它侧身躺着，面对着我，头和脖子很别扭地搁在船侧的坐板上。它的一条后腿断了。角度非常不自然。骨头从皮肤下面伸了出来，伤处在流血。只有细细的前腿的姿势看上去还正常。前腿弯曲，蜷缩在扭曲的身体前面。斑马时不时摇摇头，叫一声，喷一下鼻息。除此之外，它就静静地躺着。

    这是一只非常可爱的动物。它身上潮湿的条纹黑白分明，十分耀眼。焦虑深深地困扰着我，我不能老是看它；然而，顺便提一下，虽然事后的记忆很模糊，当时它那奇怪、简洁、具有大胆的艺术性的条纹和它那优美的头部却给了我很深的印象。对我来说更重要的是，理合德·帕克没有杀死它，这真是奇怪。按照正常情况，他应该已经把斑马杀死了。

    这就是捕食动物做的事：他们杀死猎物。在当前的情况下，理查德·帕克应该非常紧张，恐惧应该使他变得非常好斗。斑马应该已经被残杀了。

    很快我便知道了斑马没有被伤害的原因。这让我的血液都冻结起来——接着又让我稍稍感到了宽慰。一只脑袋在油布那头出现了。它害怕地直视着我，然后低下头去，接着又出现了，然后又低下头去，又再一次出现，最后消失了。那是一只有些像熊、看上去是秃毛的斑点鬣狗的脑袋。我们动物园有一群共六只，两只居统治地位的雌性，四只居从属地位的雄性。它们应该到明尼苏达去。这儿的这只是雄的。我是看它的右耳认出来的。它的右耳祓严重撕破，已经伤愈的有缺口的耳廓是过去暴力的证明。现在我明白为什么理查德·帕克没有杀死斑马了：他已经不在船上了。一只鬣狗和一只老虎不可能在这么小的地方同时存在。他一定从油布上摔下去淹死了。

    我得向自己解释鬣狗是怎么到救生艇上来的。鬣狗能在海里游泳，这一点我毫不怀疑。我的结论是,它一定一直就在船上，躲在油布下面，而我弹落下来时没有看见它。我还注意到另一件事：鬣狗是那些水手把我扔上救生艇的原因。他们不是在试图救我。这是他们最不关心的事。他们是把我当做饲料。他们希望鬣狗会袭击我，而我却能摆脱它，让船成为一个他们可以去的安全地方，无论这是否会让我付出生命的代价。现在我知道在斑马出现之前他们发疯般的指的是什么了。

    我从不认为发现自己和一只斑点鬣狗一起被困在一个狭小的空间里是一个好消息，但就是这样。实际上，这可是双重好消息：如果没有这只鬣狗，那些水手就不会把我扔进救生艇里，我就会待在大船上，一定会淹死；如果我不得不和一只野生动物分享住舱，那么一只公开表现残忍的犬科动物比一只悄悄使用力量的猫科动物要好。我非常轻地松了一口气。为了预防万一，我又回到了船桨上。我跨坐在船桨上，在船桨从中间穿过的救生艇的圆边上，左脚抵住船头前端，右脚踩住舷侧。这样很舒服，也能让我面对着船。

    我环顾四周。只有大海和天空。在浪尖上时也一样。大海很快地模仿着陆地上的地形——每一座山丘，每一座山谷，每一座平原。加速的地壳构造运动。环游地球八十排浪。

    但是到处都找不到我的家人。很多东西浮在水上，但是没有一样带给我希望。我看不见别的救生艇。

    天气的变化非常迅速。如此广阔，广阔得令人惊讶的大海，渐渐平静了下来，海浪紧跟在后；风变得柔和，成了悦耳昀微风；在无边无际的淡蓝色穹顶上，蓬松的白得耀眼的云朵开始被阳光照亮。这是太平洋上美丽的一天的黎明。我的衬衫已经开始干了。夜晚就像船一样迅速消失了。

    我开始等待。各种想法在疯狂地打转。我不是专心地想解决迫在眉睫的生存问题所必须考虑的实际细节，就是因痛苦而束手无策，默默地哭泣，张着嘴，双手抱着头。