Rebecca

by Daphne Du Maurier

  "It's not their turn today," said the coast-guard.

  "No," said Frank, "and I don't think it's a job for the tugs either. It's the ship-breaker who's going to make money this time."

  The gulls wheeled overhead, mewing like hungry cats; some of them settled on the ledges of the cliff, while others, bolder, rode the surface of the water beside the ship.

  The coast-guard took off his cap and mopped his forehead.

  "Seems kind of airless, doesn't it?" he said.

  "Yes," I said.

  The pleasure-boat with the camera people went chugging off towards Kerrith. "They've got fed up," said the coast-guard.

  "I don't blame them," said Frank. "I don't suppose anything will happen for hours. The diver will have to make his report before they try to shift her."

  "That's right," said the coast-guard.

  "I don't think there's much sense in hanging about here," said Frank; "we can't do anything. I want my lunch."

  I did not say anything. He hesitated. I felt his eyes upon me.

  "What are you going to do?" he said.

  "I think I shall stay here a bit," I said. "I can have lunch anytime. It's cold. It doesn't matter. I want to see what the diver's going to do." Somehow I could not face Frank just at the moment. I wanted to be alone, or with someone I did not know, like the coast-guard.

  "You won't see anything," said Frank; "there won't be anything to see. Why not come back and have some lunch with me?"

  "No," I said. "No, really..."

  "Oh, well," said Frank, "you know where to find me if you do want me. I shall be at the office all the afternoon."

  "All right," I said.

  He nodded to the coast-guard and went off down the cliff towards the cove. I wondered if I had offended him. I could not help it. All these things would be settled some day, one day. So much seemed to have happened since I spoke to him on the telephone, and I did not want to think about anything anymore. I just wanted to sit there on the cliff and stare at the ship.

  "He's a good sort, Mr. Crawley," said the coast-guard.

  "Yes," I said.

  "He'd give his right hand for Mr. de Winter too," he said.

  "Yes, I think he would," I said.

  The small boy was still hopping around on the grass in front of us.

  "When's the diver coming up again?" he said.

  "Not yet, sonny," said the coast-guard.

  A woman in a pink striped frock and a hair-net came across the grass towards us. "Charlie? Charlie? Where are you?" she called.

  "Here's your mother coming to give you what-for," said the coast-guard.

  "I've seen the diver, Mum," shouted the boy.

  The woman nodded to us and smiled. She did not know me. She was a holiday-maker from Kerrith. "The excitement all seems to be over doesn't it?" she said; "they are saying down on the cliff there the ship will be there for days."

  "They're waiting for the diver's report," said the coast-guard.

  "I don't know how they get them to go down under the water like that," said the woman; "they ought to pay them well."

  "They do that," said the coast-guard.

  "I want to be a diver, Mum," said the small boy.

  "You must ask your Daddy, dear," said the woman, laughing at us. "It's a lovely spot up here, isn't it?" she said to me. "We brought a picnic lunch, never thinking it would turn foggy and we'd have a wreck into the bargain. We were just thinking of going back to Kerrith when the rockets went off under our noses, it seemed. I nearly jumped out of my skin. 'Why, whatever's that?' I said to my husband. 'That's a distress signal,' he said; 'let's stop and see the fun.' There's no dragging him away; he's as bad as my little boy. I don't see anything in it myself."

  "No, there's not much to see now," said the coast-guard.

  "Those are nice-looking woods over there; I suppose they're private," said the woman.

  The coast-guard coughed awkwardly, and glanced at me. I began eating a piece of grass and looked away.

  "Yes, that's all private in there," he said.

  "My husband says all these big estates will be chopped up in time and bungalows built," said the woman. "I wouldn't mind a nice little bungalow up here facing the sea. I don't know that I'd care for this part of the world in the winter though."

  "No, it's very quiet here winter times," said the coast-guard.

  I went on chewing my piece of grass. The little boy kept running round in circles. The coast-guard looked at his watch. "Well, I must be getting on," he said; "good afternoon!" He saluted me, and turned back along the path towards Kerrith. "Come on, Charlie, come and find Daddy," said the woman.

  She nodded to me in friendly fashion, and sauntered off to the edge of the cliff, the little boy running at her heels. A thin man in khaki shorts and a striped blazer waved to her. They sat down by a clump of gorse bushes and the woman began to undo paper packages.

  I wished I could lose my own identity and join them. Eat hard-boiled eggs and potted meat sandwiches, laugh rather loudly, enter their conversation, and then wander back with them during the afternoon to Kerrith and paddle on the beach, run races across the stretch of sand, and so to their lodgings and have shrimps for tea. Instead of which I must go back alone through the woods to Manderley and wait for Maxim. And I did not know what we should say to one another, how he would look at me, what would be his voice. I went on sitting there on the cliff. I was not hungry. I did not think about lunch.

  More people came and wandered over the cliffs to look at the ship. It made an excitement for the afternoon. There was nobody I knew. They were all holiday-makers from Kerrith. The sea was glassy calm. The gulls no longer wheeled overhead, they had settled on the water a little distance from the ship. More pleasure boats appeared during the afternoon. It must be a field day for Kerrith boat-men. The diver came up and then went down again. One of the tugs steamed away while the other still stood by. The harbormaster went back in his gray motorboat, taking some men with him, and the diver who had come to the surface for the second time. The crew of the ship leaned against the side throwing scraps to the gulls, while visitors in pleasure-boats rowed slowly round the ship. Nothing happened at all. It was dead low water now, and the ship was heeled at an angle, the propeller showing clean. Little ridges of white cloud formed in the western sky and the sun became pallid. It was still very hot. The woman in the pink striped frock with the little boy got up and wandered off along the path towards Kerrith, the man in the shorts following with the picnic basket.

  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.

  "Has Mr. de Winter been in?" I said.

  "Yes, Madam," said Robert; "he came in just after two, and had a quick lunch, and then went out again. He asked for you and Frith said he thought you must have gone down to see the ship."

  "Did he say when he would be back again?" I asked.

  "No, Madam."

  "Perhaps he went to the beach another way," I said; "I may have missed him."

  "Yes, Madam," said Robert.

  I looked at the cold meat and the salad. I felt empty but not hungry. I did not want cold meat now. "Will you be taking lunch?" said Robert.

  "No," I said, "No, you might bring me some tea, Robert, in the library. Nothing like cakes or scones. Just tea and bread and butter."

  "Yes, Madam."

  I went and sat on the window seat in the library. It seemed funny without Jasper. He must have gone with Maxim. The old dog lay asleep in her basket. I picked up The Times and turned the pages without reading it. It was queer this feeling of marking time, like sitting in a waiting room at a dentist's. I knew I should never settle to my knitting or to a book. I was waiting for something to happen, something unforeseen. The horror of my morning and the stranded ship and not having any lunch had all combined to give birth to a latent sense of excitement at the back of my mind that I did not understand. It was as though I had entered into a new phase of my life and nothing would be quite the same again. The girl who had dressed for the fancy dress ball the night before had been left behind. It had all happened a very long time ago. This self who sat on the window seat was new, was different... Robert brought in my tea, and I ate my bread and butter hungrily. He had brought scones as well, and some sandwiches, and an angel cake. He must have thought it derogatory to bring bread and butter alone, nor was it Manderley routine. I was glad of the scones and the angel cake. I remembered I had only had cold tea at half past eleven, and no breakfast. Just after I had drunk my third cup Robert came in again.

  "Mr. de Winter is not back yet is he, Madam?" he said.

  "No," I said. "Why? Does someone want him?"

  "Yes, Madam," said Robert, "it's Captain Searle, the harbormaster of Kerrith, on the telephone. He wants to know if he can come up and see Mr. de Winter personally."

  "I don't know what to say," I said. "He may not be back for ages."

  "No, Madam."

  "You'd better tell him to ring again at five o'clock," I said. Robert went out of the room and came back again in a few minutes.

  "Captain Searle would like to see you, if it would be convenient, Madam," said Robert. "He says the matter is rather urgent. He tried to get Mr. Crawley, but there was no reply."

  "Yes, of course I must see him if it's urgent," I said. "Tell him to come along at once if he likes. Has he got a car?"

  "Yes, I believe so, Madam."

  Robert went out of the room. I wondered what I should say to Captain Searle. His business must be something to do with the stranded ship. I could not understand what concern it was of Maxim's. It would have been different if the ship had gone ashore in the cove. That was Manderley property. They might have to ask Maxim's permission to blast away rocks or whatever it was that was done to move a ship. But the open bay and the ledge of rock under the water did not belong to Maxim. Captain Searle would waste his time talking to me about it all.

  He must have got into his car right away after talking to Robert because in less than quarter of an hour he was shown into the room.

  He was still in his uniform as I had seen him through the glasses in the early afternoon. I got up from the window seat and shook hands with him. "I'm sorry my husband isn't back yet, Captain Searle," I said; "he must have gone down to the cliffs again, and he went into Kerrith before that. I haven't seen him all day."

  "Yes, I heard he'd been to Kerrith but I missed him there," said the harbormaster. "He must have walked back across the cliffs when I was in my boat. And I can't get hold of Mr. Crawley either."

  "I'm afraid the ship has disorganized everybody," I said. "I was out on the cliffs and went without my lunch, and I know Mr. Crawley was there earlier on. What will happen to her? Will tugs get her off, do you think?"

  Captain Searle made a great circle with his hands. "There's a hole that deep in her bottom," he said, "she'll not see Hamburg again. Never mind the ship. Her owner and Lloyd's agent will settle that between them. No, Mrs. de Winter, it's not the ship that's brought me here. Indirectly of course she's the cause of my coming. The fact is, I've got some news for Mr. de Winter, and I hardly know how to break it to him." He looked at me very straight with his bright blue eyes.

  "What sort of news, Captain Searle?"

  He brought a large white handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. "Well, Mrs. de Winter, it's not very pleasant for me to tell you either. The last thing I want to do is to cause distress or pain to you and your husband. We're all very fond of Mr. de Winter in Kerrith, you know, and the family has always done a lot of good. It's hard on him and hard on you that we can't let the past lie quiet. But I don't see how we can under the circumstances." He paused, and put his handkerchief back in his pocket. He
lowered his voice, although we were alone in the room.

  "We sent the diver down to inspect the ship's bottom," he said, "and while he was down there he made a discovery. It appears he found the hole in the ship's bottom and was working round to the other side to see what further damage there was when he came across the hull of a little sailing boat, lying on her side, quite intact and not broken up at all. He's a local man, of course, and he recognized the boat at once. It was the little boat belonging to the late Mrs. de Winter."

  My first feeling was one of thankfulness that Maxim was not there to hear. This fresh blow coming swiftly upon my masquerade of the night before was ironic, and rather horrible.

  "I'm so sorry," I said slowly, "it's not the sort of thing one expected would happen. Is it necessary to tell Mr. de Winter? Couldn't the boat be left there, as it is? It's not doing any harm, is it?"

  "It would be left, Mrs. de Winter, in the ordinary way. I'm the last man in the world to want to disturb it. And I'd give anything, as I said before, to spare Mr. de Winter's feelings. But that wasn't all, Mrs. de Winter. My man poked round the little boat and he made another, more important discovery. The cabin door was tightly closed, it was not stove in, and the portlights were closed too. He broke one of the ports with a stone from the sea bed, and looked into the cabin. It was full of water, the sea must have come through some hole in the bottom, there seemed no damage elsewhere. And then he got the fright of his life, Mrs. de Winter."

  Captain Searle paused, he looked over his shoulder as though one of the servants might hear him. "There was a body in there, lying on the cabin floor," he said quietly. "It was dissolved of course, there was no flesh on it. But it was a body all right. He saw the head and the limbs. He came up to the surface then and reported it direct to me. And now you understand, Mrs. de Winter, why I've got to see your husband."

  I stared at him, bewildered at first, then shocked, then rather sick.

  "She was supposed to be sailing alone?" I whispered, "there must have been someone with her then, all the time, and no one ever knew?"

  "It looks like it," said the harbormaster.

  "Who could it have been?" I said. "Surely relatives would know if anyone had been missing? There was so much about it at the time, it was all in the papers. Why should one of them be in the cabin and Mrs. de Winter herself be picked up many miles away, months afterwards?"