‘Please go back. Take back the money – before they come with the dogs.’ He turned his head to look at her, and she went on, her face eager with urgency, ‘Tell them you’d drunk too much. They won’t be hard – not as if they caught you.’
‘They’ll put me in gaol, nooi.’
‘What if they do? That’s nothing. You’ll soon be out again. Please, Jan. You’ll see, everything will come out right. Everything …’
‘Nee!’
‘Please, Jan, please. We can marry – like we were going to – and we …’
He pushed up roughly, knocking her hard against the rock wall.
‘Look at me, Sarie. Look!’ he shouted, shaking the empty sleeve at her. ‘Do you think I’ll grow another one? Do you think – ’
‘Please, Jan!’
‘– I’ll be a man again? I’m nothing; can’t you see? I’ll never work on the boats again – ’
‘No – no – no!’ she screamed, her anger flaring against the acid that was corroding him, destroying the gay, carefree man she loved; reducing him to a snivelling, selfish dwarf. ‘You won’t work on a boat again – never! But there are other jobs, just as good – jobs that don’t need two hands. Only, you can’t see them – you see nothing but that sleeve. You’re like a crab, Jan. A crab with its eyes turning in – a crab, not a man!’ and then his face, staring at her from beyond the fire, blurred out – and she covered her face with her hands and wept.
When she looked up again, he had left. And taken the suitcase with him. She wiped her tears on the hem of her dress and rose stiffly to her feet.
Outside it was quite light. The moon had risen, full and swollen, and the cliff face, the trees, the water of the lagoon, were painted in a thousand shades of silver-grey. She started down the slope, slipping and falling over the uneven surface, her mind and body numb and tired.
Reaching the edge of the rock shelf, she stood staring stupidly down at the water. There was a slight mist resting on the lagoon, the rock was wet and slippery, and the water seemed to be a long way down.
She climbed over the edge and down, until both her feet rested in the crack beneath the surface of the water. Pressing her body hard against the cold cliff face, she reached out for a new fingerhole, gripped, and swung her right foot for the sloping ledge on the corner. But as she started moving her body over, the foot slid up and off.
She grabbed back at the rock, clawing for a grip. Her nails scratched down the smooth wet wall, and then she was arching backwards, twisting like a cat. She hit the water, face down; and a school of startled mullet broke the surface, leaping away into the mist.
As her head came up, she screamed. Again and again, until the terror and the blind panic choked her and her mind went blank; her body writhing instinctively against the grip of the rock, trap-like about her ankle.
There was nothing solid to dig her fingers into – to pull herself free. Just the water in her face, choking, going over her, beating away from her hands.
Then she was clawing into something, dragging it down. But her face wasn’t in the water any longer, it was up against something hard and firm, and there was an iron band around her back, the hold on her foot eased.
When she looked up at him, he was smiling. Like a kid, she thought, and was angry. Because the taste of fear and salt water was still in her mouth.
‘Slowly now, slowly, nooi,’ he said.
Feeling the strength of his arm holding her, his chest pressed against her cheek, she relaxed her body and the fingers clawing into his back.
‘That’s better. Now turn your foot and work it out.’
She twisted round and pulled. Her foot felt free, then caught again.
‘I can’t. Turn me round farther,’ she said.
But it was caught. She bent her head backwards to look at him. ‘It won’t move,’ she said.
They came early; long before the shadows had drawn back from the lagoon. Three of them. The sergeant, a policeman from Cape Town, with a big brown-black Dobermann, and the girl’s father. Jan saw them coming, up among the trees, the way he had come the day before.
He called to them and his voice was harsh, as if covering fear. But when he spoke to the girl, the fear had passed. He spoke as gently as he had done throughout the night; comforting her against the cold and the beating pain in her leg.
‘Everything will soon be over now, nooi; everything will soon be all right.’
And hearing the way he said it, and the men on the beach, and her father splashing towards them, she knew it would. That the pain of the leg she had caught in the rock would soon be gone – and was worth the spirit of a man.
Post-reading
1.State the reasons for Jan’s rejection of Sarie directly after his accident and also, later in the story.(3)
2.Describe the relationship between Sarie and the fishermen.(2)
3.What are the differences in attitude between Jan and Sarie?(4)
4.Briefly describe the climax of the story and its outcome.(5)
5.Explain how Sarie’s actions link with the theme of the story.(3)
6.What is Sarie’s father’s reason for sending her home?(2)
7.How does the metaphor of Jan being ‘a crab’ affect your understanding of Sarie’s point of view?(2)
8.What, do you think, will be the outcome of Jan’s decision to turn back?(2)
9.Do you think what transpires is realistic? Explain your point of view.(3)
10.Do you empathise with Jan? What decision would you have taken if you had been in the same situation, i.e. of losing an arm?(2)
Enrichment
Debate the following point:
Being self-conscious about a physical attribute can/need not destroy personal relationships.
Humour
A note about the theme
A writer can entertain us by making us laugh at the amusing situations characters are in, the things they do, the funny things they say, or make us enjoy a combination of these elements. The stories in this section demonstrate some of the reasons why we smile or laugh out loud: at the amusing situations characters are in, the things they do, their predicaments, the silly or witty things they say, or when some of these factors combine in an amusing way.
In ‘Macphail’s sweep ticket’ the writer ends the simple plot with an amusing, surprise ending and we smile at its unexpectedness.
While the intention of the writers is to entertain, their stories also comment on attitudes and actions.
