I glanced at my watch. It was after three o’clock. I got up and went down the hill to the cove. It was quiet and deserted as always. The shingle was dark and gray. The water in the little harbor was glassy like a mirror. My feet made a queer crunching noise as I crossed the shingle. The ridges of white cloud now covered all the sky above my head, and the sun was hidden. When I came to the further side of the cove I saw Ben crouching by a little pool between two rocks scraping winkles into his hand. My shadow fell upon the water as I passed, and he looked up and saw me.
“G’ day,” he said, his mouth opening in a grin.
“Good afternoon,” I said.
He scrambled to his feet and opened a dirty handkerchief he had filled with winkles.
“You eat winkles?” he said.
I did not want to hurt his feelings. “Thank you,” I said.
He emptied about a dozen winkles into my hand, and I put them in the two pockets of my skirt. “They’m all right with bread-an’-butter,” he said, “you must boil ’em first.”
“Yes, all right,” I said.
He stood there grinning at me. “Seen the steamer?” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “she’s gone ashore, hasn’t she?”
“Eh?” he said.
“She’s run aground,” I repeated. “I expect she’s got a hole in her bottom.”
His face went blank and foolish. “Aye,” he said, “she’s down there all right. She’ll not come back again.”
“Perhaps the tugs will get her off when the tide makes,” I said.
He did not answer. He was staring out towards the stranded ship. I could see her broadside on from here, the red underwater section showing against the black of the top-sides, and the single funnel leaning rakishly towards the cliffs beyond. The crew were still leaning over her side feeding the gulls and staring into the water. The rowing boats were pulling back to Kerrith.
“She’s a Dutchman, ain’t she?” said Ben.
“I don’t know,” I said. “German or Dutch.”
“She’ll break up there where she’s to,” he said.
“I’m afraid so,” I said.
He grinned again, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“She’ll break up bit by bit,” he said, “she’ll not sink like a stone like the little ’un.” He chuckled to himself, picking his nose. I did not say anything. “The fishes have eaten her up by now, haven’t they?” he said.
“Who?” I said.
He jerked his thumb towards the sea. “Her,” he said, “the other one.”
“Fishes don’t eat steamers, Ben,” I said.
“Eh?” he said. He stared at me, foolish and blank once more.
“I must go home now,” I said; “good afternoon.”
I left him and walked towards the path through the woods. I did not look at the cottage. I was aware of it on my right hand; gray and quiet. I went straight to the path and up through the trees. I paused to rest halfway and looking through the trees I could still see the stranded ship leaning towards the shore. The pleasure boats had all gone. Even the crew had disappeared below. The ridges of cloud covered the whole sky. A little wind sprang from nowhere and blew into my face. A leaf fell onto my hand from the tree above. I shivered for no reason. Then the wind went again, it was hot and sultry as before. The ship looked desolate there upon her side, with no one on her decks, and her thin black funnel pointing to the shore. The sea was so calm that when it broke upon the shingle in the cove it was like a whisper, hushed and still. I turned once more to the steep path through the woods, my legs reluctant, my head heavy, a strange sense of foreboding in my heart.
The house looked very peaceful as I came upon it from the woods and crossed the lawns. It seemed sheltered and protected, more beautiful than I had ever seen it. Standing there, looking down upon it from the banks, I realized, perhaps for the first time, with a funny feeling of bewilderment and pride that it was my home, I belonged there, and Manderley belonged to me. The trees and the grass and the flower tubs on the terrace were reflected in the mullioned windows. A thin column of smoke rose in the air from one of the chimneys. The new-cut grass on the lawn smelt sweet as hay. A blackbird was singing on the chestnut tree. A yellow butterfly winged his foolish way before me to the terrace.
I went into the hall and through to the dining room. My place was still laid, but Maxim’s had been cleared away. The cold meat and salad awaited me on the sideboard. I hesitated, and then rang the dining room bell. Robert came in from behind the screen.