quietly undid the hasp. I pulled on the lid. It opened onto a locker, I looked down between my legs. I thought I would faint for joy.
The open locker glistened with shiny new things. Oh, the delight of the manufactured good, the man-made device, the created thing! That moment of material revelation brought an intensity of pleasure – a heady mix of hope, surprise, disbelief, thrill, gratitude, all crushed into one – unequalled in my life by any Christmas, birthday, wedding, Diwali or other gift-giving occasion. I was positively giddy with happiness.
My eyes immediately fell upon what I was looking for. Whether in a bottle, a tin can or a carton, water is unmistakably packaged. On this lifeboat, the wine of life was served in pale golden cans that fit nicely in the hand. 'Drinking Water' said the vintage label in black letters.
HP Foods Ltd. were the vintners. ml were the contents. There were stacks of these cans, too many to count at a glance.
12th - - Life of Pi Page With a shaking hand I reached down and picked one up. It was cool to the touch and heavy. I shook it. The bubble of air inside made a dull glub glub glub sound.
I was about to be delivered from my hellish thirst. My pulse raced at the thought. I only had to open the can. I paused.
How would I do that? I had a can – surely I had a can opener? I looked in the locker. There was a great quantity of things.
I rummaged about. I was losing patience. Aching expectation had run its fruitful course. I had to drink now – or I would die.
I could not find the desired instrument. But there was no time for useless distress. Action was needed. Could I prise it open with my fingernails?
I tried. I couldn’t. My teeth? It wasn’t worth trying.
I looked over the gunnel. The tarpaulin hooks. Short, blunt, solid. I kneeled on the bench and leaned over.
Holding the can with both