I know my survival is hard to believe. When I think back, Ican hardly believe it myself.
My crude exploitation of Richard Parker's weak sea legs isnot the only explanation. There is another: I was the source offood and water. Richard Parker had been a zoo animal as longas he could remember, and he was used to sustenance comingto him without his lifting a paw. True, when it rained and thewhole boat became a rain catcher, he understood where thewater came from. And when we were hit by a school of flyingfish, there too my role was not apparent. But these events didnot change the reality of things, which was that when helooked beyond the gunnel, he saw no jungle that he couldhunt in and no river from which he could drink freely. Yet Ibrought him food and I brought him fresh water. My agencywas pure and miraculous. It conferred power upon me. Proof:
I remained alive day after day, week after week. Proof: he didnot attack me, even when I was asleep on the tarpaulin. Proof:
I am here to tell you this story.