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.
