When we reached land, Mexico to be exact, I was so weakI barely had the strength to be happy about it. We had greatdifficulty landing. The lifeboat nearly capsized in the surf. Istreamed the sea anchors – what was left of them – full opento keep us perpendicular to the waves, and I tripped them assoon as we began riding a crest. In this way, streaming andtripping the anchors, we surfed in to shore. It was dangerous.
But we caught one wave at just the right point and it carriedus a great distance, past the high, collapsing walls of water. Itripped the anchors a last time and we were pushed in therest of the way. The boat hissed to a halt against the sand.
I let myself down the side. I was afraid to let go, afraid thatso close to deliverance, in two feet of water, I would drown. Ilooked ahead to see how far I had to go. The glance gave meone of my last images of Richard Parker, for at that precisemoment he jumped over me. I saw his body, so immeasurablyvital, stretched in the air above me, a fleeting, furred rainbow.
He landed in the water, his back legs splayed, his tail high, andfrom there, in a few hops, he reached the beach. He went tothe left, his paws gouging the wet sand, but changed his mindand spun around. He passed directly in front of me on hisway to the right. He didn't look at me. He ran a hundredyards or so along the shore before turning in. His gait wasclumsy and uncoordinated. He fell several times. At the edge ofthe jungle, he stopped. I was certain he would turn my way.
He would look at me. He would flatten his ears. He wouldgrowl. In some such way, he would conclude our relationship.
He did nothing of the sort. He only looked fixedly into thejungle. Then Richard Parker, companion of my torment, awful,fierce thing that kept me alive, moved forward and disappearedforever from my life.
I struggled to shore and fell upon the sand. I looked about.
I was truly alone, orphaned not only of my family, but now ofRichard Parker, and nearly, I thought, of God. Of course, Iwasn't. This beach, so soft, firm and vast, was like the cheekof God, and somewhere two eyes were glittering with pleasureand a mouth was smiling at having me there.
After some hours a member of my own species found me.
He left and returned with a group. They were six or seven.
They came up to me with their hands covering their nosesand mouths. I wondered what was wrong with them. Theyspoke to me in a strange tongue. They pulled the lifeboat ontothe sand. They carried me away. The one piece of turtle meatI had brought from the boat they wrenched from my handand threw away.
I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome athaving survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it thepresence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was verymoving. I was weeping because Richard Parker had left me sounceremoniously. What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell.
I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order.
Where we can, we must give things a meaningful shape. Forexample – I wonder – could you tell my jumbled story inexactly one hundred chapters, not one more, not one less? I'lltell you, that's one thing I hate about my nickname, the waythat number runs on forever. It's important in life to concludethings properly. Only then can you let go. Otherwise you areleft with words you should have said but never did, and yourheart is heavy with remorse. That bungled goodbye hurts meto this day. I wish so much that I'd had one last look at himin the lifeboat, that I'd provoked him a little, so that I was onhis mind. I wish I had said to him then – yes, I know, to atiger, but still – I wish I had said, "Richard Parker, it's over.
We have survived. Can you believe it? I owe you moregratitude than I can express. I couldn't have done it withoutyou. I would like to say it formally: Richard Parker, thank you.
Thank you for saving my life. And now go where you must.
You have known the confined freedom of a zoo most of yourlife; now you will know the free confinement of a jungle. I wishyou all the best with it. Watch out for Man. He is not yourfriend. But I hope you will remember me as a friend. I willnever forget you, that is certain. You will always be with me, inmy heart. What is that hiss? Ah, our boat has touched sand.
So farewell, Richard Parker, farewell. God be with you."The people who found me took me to their village, andthere some women gave me a bath and scrubbed me so hardthat I wondered if they realized I was naturally brown-skinnedand not a very dirty white boy. I tried to explain. They noddedand smiled and kept on scrubbing me as if I were the deck ofa ship.
I thought they were going to skin me alive. But they gaveme food. Delicious food. Once I started eating, I couldn't stop. Ithought I would never stop being hungry.
The next day a police car came and brought me to ahospital, and there my story ends.
I was overwhelmed by the generosity of those who rescuedme. Poor people gave me clothes and food. Doctors andnurses cared for me as if I were a premature baby. Mexicanand Canadian officials opened all doors for me so that fromthe beach in Mexico to the home of my foster mother to theclassrooms of the University of Toronto, there was only onelong, easy corridor I had to walk down. To all these people Iwould like to extend my heartfelt thanks.