This is Chapter 38 of Who Brought the Steak Tartare?, you may want to go back to Chapter 37 or start at the beginning.
38
The physical consequences of their malnutrition had now become quite severe. They were all very lethargic and remained in their bunks for the greatest portion of the day.
Hood, after eating the steak tartare, was seized by a constant griping, and was unable to eat more than a spoonful or two each day.1
And then, one mealtime, Akaitcho did not arrive in the galley with the rest of them. Back said he would check on him, and Richards said she would accompany him. They made their way to the sleeping chamber in silence. Akaitcho’s door was closed. Back knocked, but they heard no answer. Back knocked again, and called out. With a glance at Back, Richards slid the door open.
Akaitcho was strapped into his bunk, staring at the ceiling. He looked peaceful. He looked dead.
‘Akaitcho,’ Richards called. ‘Are you okay?’
He did not answer. Richards was about to pull her way into his chamber and check his pulse when he said, ‘I’m still here.’ They particularly remarked the spulchral tone of his voice, and Back involuntarily requested him to make his voice more cheerful, unconscious that his own partook of the same key.2
‘It’s time to eat,’ said Richards. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘I know,’ said Akaitcho. ‘I heard you knock, too. I just didn’t much feel like getting up. Seemed like a lot of trouble—unstrapping, you know.’
‘You’ve got to eat,’ said Richards. ‘You’re only going to get worse if you don’t.’
‘Maybe tomorrow,’ said Akaitcho.
Richards turned to Back. ‘Help me get him up,’ she said. ‘We can’t let you stay here and miss the meal, Akaitcho. You are getting up.’
‘Let him stay,’ said Back. ‘He obviously doesn’t feel like getting up. We’re all going to starve to death on this ship, one way or another. So why not let him do it his way?’
‘Take my key,’ said Akaitcho, flicking it toward them with a gentle motion of his hand.
‘We’ll bring you your share,’ said Richards.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Akaitcho. ‘It all goes badly. No one has enough to eat. There isn’t even enough on Earth. No one’s fault. Just the movement of rocks.’3
‘We’ll be right back, Akaitcho,’ said Richards.
‘He doesn’t want to eat,’ Back reported to the others.
‘He didn’t say that!’ said Richards. ‘He’s tired and didn’t feel up to getting out of bed. I told him we would bring his food to him.’
‘Just leave him in peace,’ said Back. ‘That’s what he wants!’
‘I’m taking his share to him,’ Richards insisted.
Back glared at her, but did not press the issue further.
Richards kept Akaitcho’s key, and continued to bring Akaitcho his share and eat her own in his company. Back was always watching her.4
‘You’re looking healthy,’ he said one day as they portioned out their rations, and he squeezed her arm as if to demonstrate her plumpness.5
Richards ignored the comment, but Hood asked, ‘What are you saying?’
‘Nothing,’ said Back. ‘Just that she’s looking mighty hale. I’m sure it’s just the warm glow of being such a do-gooder, taking Akaitcho’s food to him every day. How’s the old man doing? How’s his appetite?’
‘He’s eating just as much as you are, Back,’ said Richards.
‘I doubt that!’ Back snorted.
‘You think she’s eating Akaitcho’s share?’ asked Hood.
‘I think she’s looking good,’ said Back. ‘Can’t a guy say that to a pretty lady?’
‘If you want to know who’s been eating Akaitcho’s food,’ said Richards, ‘Go ask him.’
‘Last time I talked to him, he wasn’t making a whole lot of sense,’ said Back. ‘But don’t worry, we trust you.’
The others watched silently as Richards departed with Akaitcho’s food.
Chapter 39 tomorrow, same time, same place.
Footnotes
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Mr. Hood, from the constant griping it produced, was unable to eat more than one or two spoonfuls. John Richardson, “The Account Drawn up and Transmitted Home,” 1821 ↩
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The Doctor particularly remarked the sepulchral tone of our voices which he requested us to make more cheerful if possible, unconscious that his own partook of the same key. John Franklin, Narrative of a Journey to the shores of the Polar Sea, 1823 ↩
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The world goes badly, all are poor; you are poor, the traders appear to be poor, I and my party are poor likewise; and since the goods have not come in, we cannot have them. I do not regret having supplied you with provisions, for a Copper Indian can never permit white men to suffer from want of food on his lands, without flying to their aid. Akaitcho, attributed by John Franklin, Narrative of a Journey to the shores of the Polar Sea, 1823 ↩
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The young husband was always watching his wife to see if she was getting fat. Harvey Smallboy, 1933, in Regina Flannery, Mary Elizabeth, Chambers, and Patricia A Jehle, “Witiko Accounts from the James Bay Cree,” Arctic Anthropology, Vol. 18, No. 1, 1981 ↩
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The woman said, “Why do you think they would not know after you squeezed their child to see how fat he was?” Ellen Smallboy, 1937, in Regina Flannery, Mary Elizabeth, Chambers, and Patricia A Jehle, “Witiko Accounts from the James Bay Cree,” Arctic Anthropology, Vol. 18, No. 1, 1981 ↩