Gerald Mortlock Character Analysis

“Well, it is his land, Jimmy,” said Clarry. “Why shouldn’t he build a dam if he wants to?”

[…]

“No!” Jimmy broke away; Sadie could see the fierce light in his eyes. “No. He mustn’t do that.” […] “It’s like - it’d be like me settin’ that church on fire.” Jimmy flung out his arm in the direction of the little weatherboard church. “What would you say if I set the church on fire, hey?”

Mr Mortlock’s hand shot out and twisted into Dad’s shirt. “I’ve killed the bugger, Clarry. I’ve gone and killed him.”

“Why are you doing this, Dad? Why?” And then Sadie’s voice had risen to a scream, and Dad grabbed her arm and shook her.

“Be quiet, Sadie, for God’s sake!”

“It’s not right, Dad, you know it!”

“I have to help Gerald; I promised I’d look out for him.”

“And what about Jimmy? Didn’t you promise him, too?” Her voice rose, shrill, hysterical. “Jimmy was murdered! Gerald Mortlock should hang for this!”

Dad slapped her face.

“We can’t leave him here!” Sadie was weeping. “If we leave him here, he will die!” She tried to lift Lachie’s head. He moaned, his face drained of colour.

The story tells itself again...

The three of them were in the grip of Crow’s story, just as Gerald and Clarry and Jimmy had been. But Crow couldn’t see, Crow couldn’t help them. Sadie was the only one who knew; it was all up to her.

“Bethany reckons he killed himself. Our great-grandpa,” said Lachie. “Because of the war. Posttraumatic stress or whatever. It was years after he came back. The family made out it was an accident. But Bethany thinks it was because of what he’d seen. What he’d been through.”

What he’d done, thought Sadie.

Together they planted [Jimmy Raven’s] marker in the ground at the place the crow had shown them.

“I should have brought some flowers or something,” said Sadie.

“Next time,” Walter said.

“Give us a hand?” Lachie called.

The three of them moved around the tiny graveyard, straightening the fallen crosses, digging them more firmly into the ground.

“That’s better,” said Lachie at last, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “Maybe we should build a fence round it or something.”

“We’d help you,” said Sadie.

“Make a real headstone for Jimmy, too,” said Walter.

“Yeah,” said Lachie.

“Well, it is his land, Jimmy,” said Clarry. “Why shouldn’t he build a dam if he wants to?”

[…]

“No!” Jimmy broke away; Sadie could see the fierce light in his eyes. “No. He mustn’t do that.” […] “It’s like - it’d be like me settin’ that church on fire.” Jimmy flung out his arm in the direction of the little weatherboard church. “What would you say if I set the church on fire, hey?”

Mr Mortlock’s hand shot out and twisted into Dad’s shirt. “I’ve killed the bugger, Clarry. I’ve gone and killed him.”

“Why are you doing this, Dad? Why?” And then Sadie’s voice had risen to a scream, and Dad grabbed her arm and shook her.

“Be quiet, Sadie, for God’s sake!”

“It’s not right, Dad, you know it!”

“I have to help Gerald; I promised I’d look out for him.”

“And what about Jimmy? Didn’t you promise him, too?” Her voice rose, shrill, hysterical. “Jimmy was murdered! Gerald Mortlock should hang for this!”

Dad slapped her face.

“We can’t leave him here!” Sadie was weeping. “If we leave him here, he will die!” She tried to lift Lachie’s head. He moaned, his face drained of colour.

The story tells itself again...

The three of them were in the grip of Crow’s story, just as Gerald and Clarry and Jimmy had been. But Crow couldn’t see, Crow couldn’t help them. Sadie was the only one who knew; it was all up to her.

“Bethany reckons he killed himself. Our great-grandpa,” said Lachie. “Because of the war. Posttraumatic stress or whatever. It was years after he came back. The family made out it was an accident. But Bethany thinks it was because of what he’d seen. What he’d been through.”

What he’d done, thought Sadie.

Together they planted [Jimmy Raven’s] marker in the ground at the place the crow had shown them.

“I should have brought some flowers or something,” said Sadie.

“Next time,” Walter said.

“Give us a hand?” Lachie called.

The three of them moved around the tiny graveyard, straightening the fallen crosses, digging them more firmly into the ground.

“That’s better,” said Lachie at last, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “Maybe we should build a fence round it or something.”

“We’d help you,” said Sadie.

“Make a real headstone for Jimmy, too,” said Walter.

“Yeah,” said Lachie.