Pi carefully takes stock of the lifeboat’s physical facts, noting its exact dimensions and the irony that a craft built for thirty-two people feels “awfully crowded” with only Pi, Richard Parker, and the zebra’s body aboard.

Pi describes the lifeboat’s construction: rounded ends and an aluminum, riveted exterior, but a more cramped interior shaped by side benches that double as sealed buoyancy tanks. Pi calculates the open space—about one hundred square feet—as Richard Parker’s territory and observes how limited the tiger’s headroom is under benches and the tarpaulin.

Pi notices survival-oriented details, especially the pervasive orange color of the interior and equipment, and identifies the printed ship name and origin—Tsimtsum and Panama—on the bow. Pi also notes the tarpaulin’s position, which creates Richard Parker’s “den,” while the broken cross bench lies under the dead zebra.

Pi inventories the rowing gear: six oarlocks and only five oars, because Pi lost one while trying to push Richard Parker away, and Pi has repurposed another as a makeshift prow. Pi doubts the lifeboat’s speed or navigational usefulness without many rowers.

Pi closes by explaining that Pi did not grasp all these details at once; over time, necessity forces Pi to notice small features that become crucial tools for survival. Pi recognizes this repeated pattern as invention born from desperation.