21. A DROWNDED CORPSE 



Benjie had talked of going westward that day, 

 after a peck or two of winkles. 



The weather was joyful, a song played in colour 

 by the sunshine upon the bright shifting sea, a 

 dance of light water. East and west the cliffs 

 stood out like ramparts. Alongshore there was 

 just enough lop to fill the air with a fresh-sounding 

 murmur, and to cool it. 



'Bain't 'ee going to shove the boat down, 

 Benjie?' 



He did not say No. Across beach, where the 

 sea puts an end to the best laid of plans, and day 

 and night springs work upon men without warn- 

 ing, a definite No is almost as rare as an un- 

 conditional Yes. "Tisn't fit, is it?' and 'Aye, 

 if 'tis fitty,' are beach decisions. 



Benjie did not go so far as to say even that. 

 He stood scanning the in-shore water as if a shoal 



222 



