Richard Parker did not jump into the water after me. Theoar I intended to use as a club floated. I held on to it as Ireached for the lifebuoy, now vacant of its previous occupant. Itwas terrifying to be in the water. It was black and cold and ina rage. I felt as if I were at the bottom of a crumbling well.
Water kept crashing down on me. It stung my eyes. It pulledme down. I could hardly breathe. If there hadn't been thelifebuoy I wouldn't have lasted a minute.
I saw a triangle slicing the water fifteen feet away. It was ashark's fin. An awful tingle, cold and liquid, went up and downmy spine. I swam as fast as I could to one end of the lifeboat,the end still covered by the tarpaulin. I pushed myself up onthe lifebuoy with my arms. I couldn't see Richard Parker. Hewasn't on the tarpaulin or on a bench. He was at the bottomof the lifeboat. I pushed myself up again. All I could see,briefly, at the other end, was the zebra's head thrashing about.
As I fell back into the water another shark's fin glided rightbefore me.
The bright orange tarpaulin was held down by a strongnylon rope that wove its way between metal grommets in thetarpaulin and blunt hooks on the side of the boat. I happenedto be treading water at the bow. The tarpaulin was not assecurely fixed going over the stem – which had a very shortprow, what in a face would be called a snub nose – as it waselsewhere around the boat. There was a little looseness in thetarpaulin as the rope went from one hook on one side of thestem to the next hook on the other side. I lifted the oar in theair and I shoved its handle into this looseness, into thislifesaving detail. I pushed the oar in as far as it would go. Thelifeboat now had a prow projecting over the waves, ifcrookedly. I pulled myself up and wrapped my legs around theoar. The oar handle pushed up against the tarpaulin, buttarpaulin, rope and oar held. I was out of the water, if only bya fluctuating two, three feet. The crest of the larger waves keptstriking me.
I was alone and orphaned, in the middle of the Pacific,hanging on to an oar, an adult tiger in front of me, sharksbeneath me, a storm raging about me. Had I considered myprospects in the light of reason, I surely would have given upand let go of the oar, hoping that I might drown before beingeaten. But I don't recall that I had a single thought duringthose first minutes of relative safety. I didn't even noticedaybreak. I held on to the oar, I just held on, God onlyknows why.
After a while I made good use of the lifebuoy. I lifted it outof the water and put the oar through its hole. I worked itdown until the ring was hugging me. Now it was only with mylegs that I had to hold on. If Richard Parker appeared, itwould be more awkward to drop from the oar, but one terrorat a time, Pacific before tiger.
Water kept crashing down on me. It stung my eyes. It pulledme down. I could hardly breathe. If there hadn't been thelifebuoy I wouldn't have lasted a minute.
I saw a triangle slicing the water fifteen feet away. It was ashark's fin. An awful tingle, cold and liquid, went up and downmy spine. I swam as fast as I could to one end of the lifeboat,the end still covered by the tarpaulin. I pushed myself up onthe lifebuoy with my arms. I couldn't see Richard Parker. Hewasn't on the tarpaulin or on a bench. He was at the bottomof the lifeboat. I pushed myself up again. All I could see,briefly, at the other end, was the zebra's head thrashing about.
As I fell back into the water another shark's fin glided rightbefore me.
The bright orange tarpaulin was held down by a strongnylon rope that wove its way between metal grommets in thetarpaulin and blunt hooks on the side of the boat. I happenedto be treading water at the bow. The tarpaulin was not assecurely fixed going over the stem – which had a very shortprow, what in a face would be called a snub nose – as it waselsewhere around the boat. There was a little looseness in thetarpaulin as the rope went from one hook on one side of thestem to the next hook on the other side. I lifted the oar in theair and I shoved its handle into this looseness, into thislifesaving detail. I pushed the oar in as far as it would go. Thelifeboat now had a prow projecting over the waves, ifcrookedly. I pulled myself up and wrapped my legs around theoar. The oar handle pushed up against the tarpaulin, buttarpaulin, rope and oar held. I was out of the water, if only bya fluctuating two, three feet. The crest of the larger waves keptstriking me.
I was alone and orphaned, in the middle of the Pacific,hanging on to an oar, an adult tiger in front of me, sharksbeneath me, a storm raging about me. Had I considered myprospects in the light of reason, I surely would have given upand let go of the oar, hoping that I might drown before beingeaten. But I don't recall that I had a single thought duringthose first minutes of relative safety. I didn't even noticedaybreak. I held on to the oar, I just held on, God onlyknows why.
After a while I made good use of the lifebuoy. I lifted it outof the water and put the oar through its hole. I worked itdown until the ring was hugging me. Now it was only with mylegs that I had to hold on. If Richard Parker appeared, itwould be more awkward to drop from the oar, but one terrorat a time, Pacific before tiger.