The Sea Cave

by Alan Scholefield

  ‘It’s a small town. This murder’s the biggest thing that’s ever happened here.’

  ‘Let them talk, then!’ Kate said angrily.

  *

  Jerry and Freda came for the week-end. They arrived before lunch on Saturday in driving rain. It was clear that they’d had a row on the way.

  Freda told Kate about it when she went upstairs to change. ‘He’s always like this now,’ she said. ‘Arguing, shouting.’ Kate watched her as she took off her long fur coat and cloche hat and combed her cropped hair. She looked as smart as paint, and with her pale colouring, smoky grey eyes and her thin, elegantly-dressed figure, she was more beautiful than ever.

  ‘The road’s cut from the rain. And, all right, I did get stuck in the diversion. It wasn’t my fault. The wheels went round and round. Jerry had to push, and you’d think the end of the world had come. Then he wanted me to get out and push!’

  In the afternoon the two men went out in the rain to play golf. Freda talked endlessly about Jerry. At first Kate was amused, but finally it became boring and she was glad when Jerry and Charles came back, even though they were argumentative and frustrated because the weather had stopped them after a few holes.

  The afternoon dragged on, with games of cards and Lexicon, and she was relieved when it was time to bathe and change for dinner. They all drank too much during the meal and after they’d had coffee and Tilly had cleared away, Jerry said, ‘What are we going to do now?’

  He was like a child, Kate thought, needing constant entertainment.

  ‘What about carpet bowls?’ Charles suggested.

  The game started slowly, but became increasingly energetic. Woods were rolled under furniture, chairs were shifted, they laughed a great deal, shouted, argued about points.

  Suddenly, at the height of the game, there was a loud knocking at the front door.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Charles said. ‘Watch Jerry and don’t let him cheat.’

  Kate went to the drawing-room door as he opened the big main door. The rain was lashing down. He stepped back and was followed in by a figure in dripping oilskins, holding a rifle.

  It was Sergeant Van Blerk. They spoke for a moment, then Charles said, ‘Jonas has escaped.’

  ‘You mean that coloured who’s up for murder?’ Jerry said.

  ‘Ja.’ Van Blerk shook water off his hands. ‘He got away a couple of hours ago when he was given his food. Usually two constables take it, but it’s Saturday and one was off duty. The bugger jumped my man. Gave him a hit here at the back of the neck that’s put him into hospital.’

  ‘We haven’t seen or heard a thing,’ Charles said. ‘Is he armed?’

  ‘No, thank God. What about your people?’

  ‘Smuts is asleep and I’m not going to disturb my mother.’

  ‘I’m talking about the servants.’

  ‘I’ll get them together in the shed.’

  He hurried out, followed by Kate and Jerry, with lanterns. A police vehicle stood in the drive. There were two constables in the front seat, holding carbines. As Kate passed the rear she could see several tracker dogs jumping up at the wire mesh of the sides.

  The farm-workers assembled in the incubator shed. In the lantern light, their faces were apprehensive, their eyes wide. There were about thirty of them, including children, some of the tiny ones still wiping the sleep from their eyes.

  Van Blerk climbed up on a box, big and menacing in his oilskins. Kate saw that most of the servants were looking apprehensively at the gun.

  ‘Have any of you people seen Jonas Koopman? he said.

  No one answered. Lena was standing next to Tilly. Her eyes were frightened and Kate wondered if she feared Jonas’s retribution for what she had told the magistrate at the inquest.

  ‘He’s got away from the cells. If any of you see him, you tell me. You understand? Verstaan julle?’

  There were mutterings of ‘Ja, master,’ and then he stepped down. ‘Okay,’ he said to Charles. ‘You keep them here while we search their houses.’

  The search was quickly over, and they were allowed to return to bed. Charles said, ‘Where are you off to now?’

  ‘Up the road. He might be making for the mountains.’

  ‘We’ll come with you. Jerry, let’s get the guns.’ Charles’s eyes were alight.

  In a matter of minutes, they were back, each carrying a gun. Van Blerk looked at Charles’s rifle. ‘You hit him with that and there’ll be nothing left to hang.’ Jerry was loading a shot-gun with buckshot.

  Kate followed Charles as he went to fetch his heavy coat. ‘Why are you taking a gun?’ she said.

  ‘Because I’m going to shoot the bugger.’

  ‘Leave that to the police! That’s their job.’

  ‘You heard what the sergeant said. Jonas has injured a cop as well.’ He pushed past her. ‘Hey, Jerry, we’ll go in my car. It’s faster than yours. Ten quid to whoever sees him first.’

  Jerry slapped the butt of his shot-gun and laughed as he climbed into the car. There was a roar as the lorry and the car started together, then they disappeared through the driving rain along the cliff road.

  Kate and Freda stood in the doorway and watched the lights flicker in the distance.

  ‘They’re like children with a new game,’ Kate said.

  She and Freda looked at newspapers and magazines as they waited for the men to return.

  ‘Didn’t you know Tom Austen?’ Freda said idly.

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘He left this week.’

  She had tried to put Tom out of her mind and she did not want to talk about him now.

  ‘It was sad about his wife,’ Freda went on.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Probably for the best, though. We heard about . . .’

  Kate stood up abruptly. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  She was aware of Freda’s eyes on her as she left the room, but she did not care.

  She was asleep when Charles returned about three, but he switched on the light and woke her. He was wet and muddy.

  ‘Did you catch him?’ she said.

  ‘Didn’t see a bloody thing. We’ll get him tomorrow, though.’

  When he climbed into bed beside her she could feel he was tumescent. She had made a pact with herself when she had made up her mind to marry him that her part of the bargain would be never to refuse him if she could help it, never to have a headache, never to be feeling too tired. So now, as he put his arms around her, she lifted her nightdress and slid under him. There was no love in this mating, nor love play; it was, for him, fierce and cathartic and soon over, leaving him lying limply on her. She felt his weight increase and heard the regularity of his breathing and knew he was asleep. After a few minutes she gently turned him on his side and got up.

  She stood for some moments by the window. The rain had stopped and the moon had come out from behind a bank of heavy cloud. She wondered where Jonas was. Could he have come back to Saxenburg? Could he be hiding somewhere on the property? After all, he knew it better than almost anyone else. Could he be here in the house? She shivered. In one way, she wanted him caught, but in another, she wanted him to stay free. She would never have been able to explain that to anyone and it was hard to explain it to herself. She had thought of Jonas as a caged animal. But wasn’t Saxenburg a cage, too? Hadn’t it caged Mrs. Preller? And Smuts? Was it her cage, too? The following morning after breakfast she went into town with Jerry and Charles. Freda stayed in bed. A knot of whites had collected down at the harbour. Most of them were carrying guns, either rifles or shot-guns. She recognised the manager of the hotel, and Mr. Hamilton from the bank, carrying a walking stick. Dr. du Toit came up to them. He was dressed in a corduroy jacket, gum-boots and a trilby hat. He carried a rifle on his arm.

  ‘They’re searching the village,’ he said, pointing up to the white-washed houses of the coloured fishing village. A crowd of coloured people stood at one end of the village and watched the police and the dogs go through the houses. ‘There�
�s going to be trouble if they don’t find him soon.’

  A police-car came bouncing down the main street, sending up splashes of muddy water each time it hit a pot-hole. Van Blerk emerged and blew a whistle, summoning the police back from the village.

  ‘What’s happening?’ du Toit said. ‘Are we still going through the old ostrich houses?’

  Van Blerk shook his head. ‘He’s been seen on the Agulhas road. Old Dr. Richards was fishing down there early this morning and saw him near the road.’

  The police ran back with their dogs and people started getting into cars and revving up the engines.

  Charles said, ‘Jerry, you go with Hennie du Toit. I’ll follow. There’s something I want to do first.’ They watched the cars follow each other in a line up the main street and then take the left fork towards Cape Agulhas.

  ‘Why aren’t you going with them?’ Kate said.

  ‘If they believe old Richards, they’ll believe pigs can fly. He can’t see across the bloody road, never mind recognise anyone. No, I’ll have a look around the ostrich houses. When I woke this morning I was thinking what I’d do if I was Jonas. I wouldn’t go too far. He knows this area well. He can get food from the coloureds in the village. It’s safer for him here, then when everyone is looking for him somewhere else, he can slip out of the district. Come on, you drive.’

  He made her stop at each of the old ostrich houses on the cliff road but, to her relief, told her to stay outside in the road with the engine running. It took him nearly two hours to satisfy himself that there was no one hiding either in the rooms or the ruined gardens.

  She drove back slowly along the cliff tops. Charles searched the sea shore through his binoculars. It was about noon when they reached Saxenburg. They were leaving the car when Charles said thoughtfully, ‘I wonder if the bugger would try it?’ He was staring down at the cove with its jumble of rocks and rock pools. He pulled the gun from the dickey, checked the magazine and went down the cliff path. Kate watched as he crossed the sand and began searching among the rocks. Slowly, she followed.

  The storm of the night before had died away, but the waves were still restless and crashed on the India Reef. In a few hours everything would be calm once more. As usual after rain and high tides the beach was clean and white, as though someone had come along, picked up all the flotsam and then smoothed it over. She took off her shoes. The sand was cold underfoot.

  Charles was about a hundred yards ahead of her, making for the far point. She had not been down to the cove for weeks. She walked on past the rock pools, remembering that hot summer morning when she had found Miriam, and thinking that nothing ever really ends. Here she was, still part of the chain of circumstances which had begun in these rock pools. Men were driving all over the Cape Agulhas area for the same reason. And somewhere in Cape Town an old Jew was waiting for an Old Testament revenge for his daughter’s murder.

  She saw Charles suddenly stop and drop down into a crouch. He rose and looked right, then left, and behind him. He ran back towards her.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I think he’s around somewhere. I’ve just seen footprints.’

  The line of prints came from the broken cliffside behind the beach and went in a straight line towards the far point. They were prints of bare feet. She put her own foot next to one. It was much larger than hers. For the first time she felt afraid.

  ‘Where do you think he is?’ She found herself whispering.

  ‘I know damn well where he is. Or where he went, anyway. He made for the sea cave. But that might have been sometime last night or early this morning when the rain stopped. Otherwise we wouldn’t see the footprints.’

  ‘Or when the tide went out.’

  ‘What time are the tides today?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it looks as if it’s already turned.’

  ‘You stay here.’

  She watched him walk slowly towards the point where the sea cave was. He did not approach it in a direct line, but started to climb the headland on the landward side. This had collapsed over the millennia due to the battering of the sea and rocks had piled on each other in an unplanned mass.

  He moved towards the tunnel entrance to the cave from above. For a moment, she thought he was going to crawl through the narrow opening, but he stopped just above it, put down his gun and began to heave at a small boulder. Although she was fifty yards away she could almost see the strain on his face and hear the breath whistling from his lungs. The stone moved, rolled and stopped, blocking the opening. Now the only way out of the cave was through the mouth which gave onto the sea. He jumped down until he was level with the blocked opening, and shouted. She could not make out the words. Then he climbed one of the rocks from which Jonas used to fish, which gave a partial view of the farthest section of the headland.

  She climbed up beside him. He was lying on his stomach, with the rifle at his side. She realised that anyone coming out of the sea cave would be visible.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she said.

  ‘I’m going to wait for the tide to come in.’

  ‘But he’ll drown.’

  ‘He doesn’t have to drown. He can come out now. I told him so.’

  ‘If he comes out, will you shoot him?’

  ‘He can give himself up.’

  ‘He’ll be terrified. He probably thinks you’ll kill him anyway.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, I’m not even sure he’s in there.’

  The sea was still high from the night before, but the waves were coming in evenly, big, silky green swells that gathered as they slid towards the beach, arcing and arching until the leading edge dropped in a welter of foam and turbulence. Each wave crept slightly farther up the beach and, she knew, farther into the sea cave.

  They waited in silence for half an hour, then she said, ‘You’re treating him like an animal! You’re making a sport out of it.’

  He turned, and there was anger on his face. ‘If you don’t want to stay, then don’t. But for Christ’s sake, don’t tell me what to do.’

  She climbed down the rock. Already the water was lapping around it.

  ‘It’s nearly lunch-time.’

  ‘I don’t want any lunch.’

  She walked back along the beach and climbed the cliff path. At the top, she stopped and looked back. He had not moved.

  She went into the house and made herself a sandwich, but could not eat it. Freda was still in bed so she went out onto the big verandah. She was too far away to see Charles. Like a rabbit drawn to a snake, she returned to the top of the cliff path and sat down on the thin turf. She could think of no way of stopping whatever plan he had for capturing Jonas.

  One hour passed, then another. The tide rose higher and higher, the foamy water reaching farther up the beach. In the cave, it would already be waist-deep. By mid-afternoon she could stand it no longer and ran down the path and across the beach.

  ‘You’ve got to stop this!’ she called. ‘Charles, let him out! If you don’t, I’ll get the boys from the farm to come and roll the boulder away!’

  ‘Mind your own fucking business! If you bring any of the boys I’ll . . .’

  She heard a shout and turned to see Jerry and Dr. du Toit coming across the sand.

  ‘Did you find him?’ Charles said.

  ‘No. Have you seen him?’ du Toit said.

  ‘I saw footprints. I think he’s in the sea cave.’

  ‘The water must be up to his neck by . . .’

  A cry like a seabird’s came over the water to them and suddenly Jonas was visible in the water at the tip of the headland. He was two hundred yards from them. They could see his arms raised above his head. Charles lifted the rifle. Kate grabbed at it. They wrestled for a moment and then she was half deafened by an explosion. She turned and saw that du Toit had already sighted along his rifle barrel as Jerry loaded his shot-gun. Du Toit squeezed off another shot.

  ‘Stop it! Stop it! she cried.

  Du Toit slowly lowered the rifle. H
is face was white and his hands were shaking.

  Jonas was struggling in the crashing breakers as the undertow pulled him out to sea.

  ‘The current’s taking him to the reef,’ Charles said.

  ‘He’ll drown before he gets there,’ du Toit said. ‘The sharks will get him.’

  The men all had binoculars and they watched the bobbing head, dark against the white of the foam and the green of the swells.

  ‘He’s finished,’ Jerry said. ‘He’s not even trying any more.’

  ‘Ja. He’s finished,’ du Toit said.

  Kate could barely make out the black dot of the head as it receded farther and farther towards the reef where the waves struck and the spume rose in the air.

  Then Charles said, ‘Are you sure he’s finished? He seems to be moving sideways.’

  ‘Hes not swimming,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Then a current’s caught him.’

  The body began to move parallel with the beach. They watched it for more than an hour, until it was in a direct line with their rock.

  ‘Christ, he’s coming in!’ Charles said.

  ‘He’s dead,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Then he’s being washed in.’

  Slowly, inexorably, the body came towards them. They watched, hypnotised. As it floated closer, Kate could see that no life remained. It was washed one way, then the next at the whim of the sea.

  Finally, it reached the outer rock wall of the far pool. A wave lifted it and rolled it, then receded. It lay amid the barnacles and mussels. The next wave broke and pushed it a little farther. The next, farther still. Finally, it slithered into the pool. It moved through the channels until it reached the last pool of all and bumped against the rocks. There was nowhere farther to go.

  Chapter Seven

  The death of Jonas put an end to a chapter in Helmsdale life. The rape and murder of a white woman by a coloured man had never occurred there before and it was devoutly hoped that it never would again. It was considered that the peculiar and grotesque circumstances of the murderer’s death were almost as effective a deterrent as if he had been tried and hanged; better in some ways, since the trial and the hanging would have taken place in Cape Town, whereas now people believed that the manner and place of his death indicated that the society in which the crime had occurred, had caused justice to be done.