the last trace i saw of the ship was a patch of oilglimmering on the surface of the water.
i was certain i wasn't alone. it was inconceivable that thetsimtsum should sink without eliciting a peep of concern. rightnow in tokyo, in panama city, in madras, in honolulu, why,even in winnipeg, red lights were blinking on consoles, alarmbells were ringing, eyes were opening wide in horror, mouthswere gasping, "my god! the tsimtsum has sunk!" and handswere reaching for phones. more red lights were starting toblink and more alarm bells were starting to ring. pilots wererunning to their planes with their shoelaces still untied, suchwas their hurry. ship officers were spinning their wheels tillthey were feeling dizzy. even submarines were swervingunderwater to join in the rescue effort. we would be rescuedsoon. a ship would appear on the horizon. a gun would befound to kill the hyena and put the zebra out of its misery.
perhaps orange juice could be saved. i would climb aboardand be greeted by my family. they would have been pickedup in another lifeboat. i only had to ensure my survival for thenext few hours until this rescue ship came.
i reached from my perch for the net. i rolled it up andtossed it midway on the tarpaulin to act as a barrier, howeversmall. orange juice had seemed practically cataleptic. my guesswas she was dying of shock. it was the hyena that worriedme. i could hear it whining. i clung to the hope that a zebra,a familiar prey, and an orang-utan, an unfamiliar one, woulddistract it from thoughts of me.
i kept one eye on the horizon, one eye on the other end ofthe lifeboat. other than the hyena's whining, i heard very littlefrom the animals, no more than claws scuffing against a hardsurface and occasional groans and arrested cries. no majorfight seemed to be taking place.
mid-morning the hyena appeared again. in the precedingminutes its whining had been rising in volume to a scream. itjumped over the zebra onto the stern, where the lifeboat's sidebenches came together to form a triangular bench. it was afairly exposed position, the distance between bench and gunnelbeing about twelve inches. the animal nervously peered beyondthe boat. beholding a vast expanse of shifting water seemed tobe the last thing it wanted to see, for it instantly brought itshead down and dropped to the bottom of the boat behind thezebra. that was a cramped space; between the broad back ofthe zebra and the sides of the buoyancy tanks that went allround the boat beneath the benches, there wasn't much roomleft for a hyena. it thrashed about for a moment beforeclimbing to the stern again and jumping back over the zebrato the middle of the boat, disappearing beneath the tarpaulin.
this burst of activity lasted less than ten seconds. the hyenacame to within fifteen feet of me. my only reaction was tofreeze with fear. the zebra, by comparison, swiftly reared itshead and barked.
i was hoping the hyena would stay under the tarpaulin. iwas disappointed. nearly immediately it leapt over the zebraand onto the stern bench again. there it turned on itself a fewtimes, whimpering and hesitating. i wondered what it was goingto do next. the answer came quickly: it brought its head lowand ran around the zebra in a circle, transforming the sternbench, the side benches and the cross bench just beyond thetarpaulin into a twenty-five-foot indoor track. it did one lap –two – three – four – five – and onwards, non-stop, till i lostcount. and the whole time, lap after lap, it went yip yip yipyip yip in a high-pitched way. my reaction, once again, wasvery slow. i was seized by fear and could only watch. thebeast was going at a good clip, and it was no small animal; itwas an adult male that looked to be about 140 pounds. thebeating of its legs against the benches made the whole boatshake, and its claws were loudly clicking on their surface. eachtime it came from the stern i tensed. it was hair-raisingenough to see the thing racing my way; worse still was thefear that it would keep going straight. clearly, orange juice,wherever she was, would not be an obstacle. and the rolled-uptarpaulin and the bulge of the net were even more pitifuldefences. with the slightest of efforts the hyena could be at thebow right at my feet. it didn't seem intent on that course ofaction; every time it came to the cross bench, it took it, and isaw the upper half of its body moving rapidly along the edgeof the tarpaulin. but in this state, the hyena's behaviour washighly unpredictable and it could decide to attack me withoutwarning.
after a number of laps it stopped short at the stern benchand crouched, directing its gaze downwards, to the space belowthe tarpaulin. it lifted its eyes and rested them upon me. thelook was nearly the typical look of a hyena – blank and frank,the curiosity apparent with nothing of the mental set revealed,jaw hanging open, big ears sticking up rigidly, eyes bright andblack – were it not for the strain that exuded from every cellof its body, an anxiety that made the animal glow, as if with afever. i prepared for my end. for nothing. it started runningin circles again.
when an animal decides to do something, it can do it for avery long time. all morning the hyena ran in circles going yipyip yip yip yip. once in a while it briefly stopped at thestern bench, but otherwise every lap was identical to theprevious one, with no variations in movement, in speed, in thepitch or the volume of the yipping, in the counter-clockwisedirection of travel. its yipping was shrill and annoying in theextreme. it became so tedious and draining to watch that ieventually turned my head to the side, trying to keep guardwith the corner of my eyes. even the zebra, which at firstsnorted each time the hyena raced by its head, fell into astupor.
yet every time the hyena paused at the stern bench, myheart jumped. and as much as i wanted to direct my attentionto the horizon, to where my salvation lay, it kept straying backto this maniacal beast.
i am not one to hold a prejudice against any animal, but itis a plain fact that the spotted hyena is not well served by itsappearance. it is ugly beyond redemption. its thick neck andhigh shoulders that slope to the hindquarters look as if they'vecome from a discarded prototype for the giraffe, and itsshaggy, coarse coat seems to have been patched together fromthe leftovers of creation. the colour is a bungled mix of tan,black, yellow, grey, with the spots having none of the classyostentation of a leopard's rosettes; they look rather like thesymptoms of a skin disease, a virulent form of mange. thehead is broad and too massive, with a high forehead, like thatof a bear, but suffering from a receding hairline, and with earsthat look ridiculously mouse-like, large and round, when theyhaven't been torn off in battle. the mouth is forever open andpanting. the nostrils are too big. the tail is scraggly andunwagging. the gait is shambling. all the parts put togetherlook doglike, but like no dog anyone would want as a pet.
but i had not forgotten father's words. these were notcowardly carrion-eaters. if national geographic portrayed themas such, it was because national geographic filmed during theday. it is when the moon rises that the hyena's day starts, andit proves to be a devastating hunter. hyenas attack in packswhatever animal can be run down, its flanks opened while stillin full motion. they go for zebras, gnus and water buffaloes,and not only the old or the infirm in a herd – full-grownmembers too. they are hardy attackers, rising up from buttingsand kickings immediately, never giving up for simple lack of will.
and they are clever; anything that can be distracted from itsmother is good. the ten-minute-old gnu is a favourite dish, buthyenas also eat young lions and young rhinoceros. they arediligent when their efforts are rewarded. in fifteen minutes flat,all that will be left of a zebra is the skull, which may yet bedragged away and gnawed down at leisure by young ones inthe lair. nothing goes to waste; even grass upon which bloodhas been spilt will be eaten. hyenas' stomachs swell visibly asthey swallow huge chunks of kill. if they are lucky, theybecome so full they have difficulty moving. once they'vedigested their kill, they cough up dense hairballs, which theypick clean of edibles before rolling in them. accidentalcannibalism is a common occurrence during the excitement of afeeding; in reaching for a bite of zebra, a hyena will take inthe ear or nostril of a clan member, no hard feelings intended.
the hyena feels no disgust at this mistake. its delights are toomany to admit to disgust at anything.
in fact, a hyena's catholicity of taste is so indiscriminate itnearly forces admiration. a hyena will drink from water evenas it is urinating in it. the animal has another original use forits urine: in hot, dry weather it will cool itself by relieving itsbladder on the ground and stirring up a refreshing mud bathwith its paws. hyenas snack on the excrement of herbivoreswith clucks of pleasure. it's an open question as to whathyenas wont eat. they eat their own kind (the rest of thosewhose ears and noses they gobbled down as appetizers) oncethey're dead, after a period of aversion that lasts about oneday. they will even attack motor vehicles – the headlights, theexhaust pipe, the side mirrors. it is not their gastric juices thatlimit hyenas, but the power of their jaws, which is formidable.
that was the animal i had racing around in circles beforeme. an animal to pain the eye and chill the heart.
things ended in typical hyena fashion. it stopped at thestern and started producing deep groans interrupted by fits ofheavy panting. i pushed myself away on the oar till only thetips of my feet were holding on to the boat. the animalhacked and coughed. abruptly it vomited. a gush landedbehind the zebra. the hyena dropped into what it had justproduced. it stayed there, shaking and whining and turningaround on itself,, exploring the furthest confines of animalanguish. it did not move from the restricted space for the restof the day. at times the zebra made noises about the predatorjust behind it, but mostly it lay in hopeless and sullen silence.
