Everything suffered. Everything became sun-bleached andweather-beaten. The lifeboat, the raft until it was lost, thetarpaulin, the stills, the rain catchers, the plastic bags, the lines,the blankets, the net – all became worn, stretched, slack,cracked, dried, rotted, torn, discoloured. What was orangebecame whitish orange. What was smooth became rough. Whatwas rough became smooth. What was sharp became blunt.
What was whole became tattered. Rubbing fish skins and turtlefat on things, as I did, greasing them a little, made nodifference. The salt went on eating everything with its millionhungry mouths. As for the sun, it roasted everything. It keptRichard Parker in partial subjugation. It picked skeletons cleanand fired them to a gleaming white. It burned off my clothesand would have burned off my skin, dark though it was, had Inot protected it beneath blankets and propped-up turtle shells.
When the heat was unbearable I took a bucket and pouredsea water on myself; sometimes the water was so warm it feltlike syrup. The sun also took care of all smells. I don'tremember any smells. Or only the smell of the spent hand-flareshells. They smelled like cumin, did I mention that? I don'teven remember what Richard Parker smelled like.
We perished away. It happened slowly, so that I didn't noticeit all the time. But I noticed it regularly. We were twoemaciated mammals, parched and starving. Richard Parker's furlost its lustre, and some of it even fell away from his shouldersand haunches. He lost a lot of weight, became a skeleton in anoversized bag of faded fur. I, too, withered away, themoist-ness sucked out of me, my bones showing plainlythrough my thin flesh.
I began to imitate Richard Parker in sleeping an incrediblenumber of hours. It wasn't proper sleep, but a state ofsemi-consciousness in which daydreams and reality were nearlyindistinguishable. I made much use of my dream rag.
These are the last pages of my diary:
Today saw a shark bigger than any I've seen till now. Aprimeval monster twenty feet long. Striped. A tiger shark –very dangerous. Circled us. Feared it would attack. Havesurvived one tiger; thought I would die at the hands ofanother. Did not attack. Floated away. Cloudy weather, butnothing.
No rain. Only morning greyness. Dolphins. Tried to gaffone. Found I could not stand. R. P. weak and ill-tempered.
Am so weak, if he attacks I won't be able to defend myself.
Simply do not have the energy to blow whistle.
Calm and burning hot day. Sun beating without mercy.
Feel my brains are boiling inside my head. Feel horrid.
Prostrate body and soul. Will die soon. R.P. breathing butnot moving. Will die too. Will not kill me.
Salvation. An hour of heavy, delicious, beautiful rain.
Filled mouth, filled bags and cans, filled body till it couldnot take another drop. Let myself be soaked to rinse offsalt. Crawled over to see R. P. Not reacting. Body curled,tail flat. Coat clumpy with wetness. Smaller when wet.
Bony. Touched him for first time ever. To see if dead. Not.
Body still warm. Amazing to touch him. Even in thiscondition, firm, muscular, alive. Touched him and furshuddered as if I were a gnat. At length, head half inwater stirred. Better to drink than to drown. Better signstill: tail jumped. Threw piece of turtle meat in front ofnose. Nothing. At last half rose – to drink. Drank anddrank. Ate. Did not rise fully. Spent a good hour lickinghimself all over. Slept.
It's no use. Today I die.
I will die today.
I die.
This was my last entry. I went on from there, endured, butwithout noting it. Do you see these invisible spirals on themargins of the page? I thought I would run out of paper. Itwas the pens that ran out.