Acclaim for Yann Martel's Life of Pi(96)

He didn't. He sat up instantly. His screams were all the worse for being unintelligible. He screamed and we stared, transfixed. There was blood everywhere. Worse, there was the contrast between the frantic activity of the poor sailor and the gentle repose of his leg at the bottom of the boat. He kept looking at the limb, as if imploring it to return. At last he fell back. We hurried into action. The cook folded some skin over the bone. We wrapped the stump in a piece of cloth and we tied a rope above the wound to stop the bleeding. We laid him as comfortably as we could on a mattress of life jackets and kept him warm. I thought it was all for nothing. I couldn't believe a human being could survive so much pain, so much butchery. Throughout the evening and night he moaned, and his breathing was harsh and uneven. He had fits of agitated delirium. I expected him to die during the night.

"He clung to life. At dawn he was still alive. He went in and out of consciousness.

Mother gave him water. I caught sight of the amputated leg. It cut my breath short. In the commotion it had been shoved aside and forgotten in the dark. It had seeped a liquid and looked thinner. I took a life jacket and used it as a glove. I picked the leg up.

"'What are you doing?' asked the cook.

"'I'm going to throw it overboard,' I replied.

"'Don't be an idiot. We'll use it as bait. That was the whole point.'

"He seemed to regret his last words even as they were coming out, for his voice faded quickly. He turned away.

"'The whole point?' Mother asked. 'What do you mean by that?'

"He pretended to be busy.

"Mother's voice rose. 'Are you telling us that we cut this poor boy's leg off not to save his life but to get fishing bait?'

"Silence from the brute.

"'Answer me!' shouted Mother.

"Like a cornered beast he lifted his eyes and glared at her. 'Our supplies are running out,'

he snarled. 'We need more food or we'll die.'

"Mother returned his glare. 'Our supplies are not running out! We have plenty of food and water. We have package upon package of biscuits to tide us over till our rescue.' She took hold of the plastic container in which we put the open rations of biscuits. It was unexpectedly light in her hands. The few crumbs in it rattled. 'What!' She opened it.

'Where are the biscuits? The container was full last night!'

"The cook looked away. As did I.

"'You selfish monster!' screamed Mother. 'The only reason we're running out of food is because you're gorging yourself on it!'

"'He had some too,' he said, nodding my way.

"Mother's eyes turned to me. My heart sank.

"'Piscine, is that true?'

"'It was night, Mother. I was half asleep and I was so hungry. He gave me a biscuit. I ate it without thinking...'

"'Only one, was it?' sneered the cook.

"It was Mother's turn to look away. The anger seemed to go out of her. Without saying another word she went back to nursing the sailor.

"I wished for her anger. I wished for her to punish me. Only not this silence. I made to arrange some life jackets for the sailor's comfort so that I could be next to her. I whispered, 'I'm sorry, Mother, I'm sorry.' My eyes were brimming with tears. When I brought them up, I saw that hers were too. But she didn't look at me. Her eyes were gazing upon some memory in mid-air.

"'We're all alone, Piscine, all alone,' she said, in a tone that broke every hope in my body.

I never felt so lonely in all my life as I did at that moment. We had been in the lifeboat two weeks already and it was taking its toll on us. It was getting harder to believe that Father and Ravi had survived.

"When we turned around, the cook was holding the leg by the ankle over the water to drain it. Mother brought her hand over the sailor's eyes.

"He died quietly, the life drained out of him like the liquid from his leg. The cook promptly butchered him. The leg had made for poor bait. The dead flesh was too decayed to hold on to the fishing hook; it simply dissolved in the water. Nothing went to waste with this monster. He cut up everything, including the sailor's skin and every inch of his

intestines. He even prepared his genitals. When he had finished with his torso, he moved on to his arms and shoulders and to his legs. Mother and I rocked with pain and horror.

Mother shrieked at the cook, 'How can you do this, you monster? Where is your humanity? Have you no decency? What did the poor boy do to you? You monster! You monster!' The cook replied with unbelievable vulgarity.

"'At least cover his face, for God's sake!' cried my mother. It was unbearable to have that beautiful face, so noble and serene, connected to such a sight below. The cook threw himself upon the sailor's head and before our very eyes scalped him and pulled off his face. Mother and I vomited.

"When he had finished, he threw the butchered carcass overboard. Shortly after, strips of flesh and pieces of organs were lying to dry in the sun all over the boat. We recoiled in horror. We tried not to look at them. The smell would not go away.

"The next time the cook was close by, Mother slapped him in the face, a full hard slap that punctuated the air with a sharp crack. It was something shocking coming from my mother. And it was heroic. It was an act of outrage and pity and grief and bravery. It was done in memory of that poor sailor. It was to salvage his dignity.