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Soon he was clear inside. He was in a small rock-bound hole filled with yellowish-gray water. The water was pushing him up against the roof. The roof was sharp and pained his back. He pulled himself along with his hands—fast, fast—and used his legs as levers. His head knocked against something; a sharp pain dizzied him. Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two . . . He was without light, and the water seemed to press upon him with the weight of rock. Seventy-one, seventy-two . . . There was no strain on his lungs. He felt like an inflated balloon, his lungs were so light and easy, but his head was pulsing.
He was being continually pressed against the sharp roof, which felt slimy as well as sharp. Again he thought of octopuses, and wondered if the tunnel might be filled with weed that could tangle him. He gave himself a panicky, convulsive kick forward, ducked his head, and swam. His feet and hands moved freely, as if in open water. The hole must have widened out. He thought he must be swimming fast, and he was frightened of banging his head if the tunnel narrowed.
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A hundred, a hundred and one . . . The water paled. Victory filled him. His lungs were beginning to hurt. A few more strokes and he would be out. He was counting wildly; he said a hundred and fifteen and then, a long time later, a hundred and fifteen again. The water was a clear jewel-green all around him. Then he saw, above his head, a crack running up through the rock. Sunlight was falling through it, showing the clean, dark rock of the tunnel, a single mussel2 shell, and darkness ahead.
He was at the end of what he could do. He looked up at the crack as if it were filled with air and not water, as if he could put his mouth to it to draw in air. A hundred and fifteen, he heard himself say inside his head—but he had said that long ago. He must go on into the blackness ahead, or he would drown. His head was swelling, his lungs cracking. A hundred and fifteen, a hundred and fifteen, pounded through his head, and he feebly clutched at rocks in the dark, pulling himself forward, leaving the brief space of sunlit water behind. He felt he was dying. He was no longer quite conscious. He struggled on in the darkness between lapses into unconsciousness. An immense, swelling pain filled his head, and then the darkness cracked with an explosion of green light. His hands, groping forward, met nothing; and his feet, kicking back, propelled him out into the open sea.
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He drifted to the surface, his face turned up to the air. He was gasping like a fish. He felt he would sink now and drown; he could not swim the few feet back to the rock. Then he was clutching it and pulling himself up onto it. He lay face down, gasping. He could see nothing but a red-veined, clotted dark. His eyes must have burst, he thought; they were full of blood. He tore off his goggles and a
gout of blood went into the sea. His nose was bleeding, and the blood had filled the goggles.
He scooped up handfuls of water from the cool, salty sea, to splash on his face, and did not know whether it was blood or salt water he tasted. After a time, his heart quieted, his eyes cleared, and he sat up. He could see the local boys diving and playing half a mile away. He did not want them. He wanted nothing but to get back home and lie down.
In a short while, Jerry swam to shore and climbed slowly up the path to the villa. He flung himself on his bed and slept, waking at the sound of feet on the path outside. His mother was coming back. He rushed to the bathroom, thinking she must not see his face with bloodstains, or tearstains, on it. He came out of the bathroom and met her as she walked into the villa, smiling, her eyes lighting up.
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“Have a nice morning?” she asked, laying her hand on his warm brown shoulder a moment.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” he said.
“You look a bit pale.” And then, sharp and anxious, “How did you bang your head?”
“Oh, just banged it,” he told her.
She looked at him closely. He was strained; his eyes were glazed-looking. She was worried. And then she said to herself, Oh, don’t fuss! Nothing can happen. He can swim like a fish.
They sat down to lunch together.
“Mummy,” he said, “I can stay underwater for two minutes—three minutes, at least.” It came bursting out of him.
“Can you, darling?” she said. “Well, I shouldn’t overdo it. I don’t think you ought to swim anymore today.”
She was ready for a battle of wills, but he gave in at once. It was no longer of the least importance to go to the bay.
Making Meanings
Through the Tunnel
First Thoughts
l. Is Jerry crazy to risk his life, or does he get something important out of his ordeal? Talk about your responses.
Shaping Interpretations
2. Why do you think it is so important to Jerry to be with the boys on the wild beach?
3. What physical and mental “tortures” does Jerry go through, first as he prepares for his ordeal and then as he swims through the tunnel?
4. A ticking clock is usually good for creating suspense. How does this story use a “ticking clock” to increase our anxiety?
5. What breakthroughs has Jerry achieved by the story’s end? Consider:
• his conquest of the tunnel
• his feelings about himself
• his dependence on his mother
6. What do you think is the main focus of this story—in other words, what would you say is its theme? Consider:
• what the swim through the tunnel means to Jerry
• why Jerry no longer feels he has to go to the bay
7. Read carefully the information provided in Literature and Anthropology. Do you think Jerry’s experience can be viewed as an initiation rite? What similarities and differences can you find between his experience and the coming-of-age rites in other cultures?
8. Check the text to see what you learn about the thoughts and feelings of Jerry’s mother. How would the story be different if she, rather than the omniscient narrator, were telling it?
Connecting with the Text
9. What details about Jerry’s swim through the tunnel were most vivid and terrifying to you?
Challenging the Text
l0. Have you ever taken great risks to prove yourself? (Check your Quickwrite notes.) Do you find it convincing that Jerry takes such a risk and survives? Explain.