Ralph spoke first, crimson in the face.
Will you? He cleared his throat and went on. Will you light the fire?
Now the absurd situation was open, Jack blushed too. He began to mutter vaguely.
You rub two sticks. You rub
He glanced at Ralph, who blurted out the last confession of incompetence.
Has anyone got any matches?
You make a bow and spin the arrow, said Roger. He rubbed his hands in mime. Psss. Psss.
A little air was moving over the mountain. Piggy came with it, in shorts and shirt, laboring cautiously out of the forest with the evening sunlight gleaming from his glasses. He held the conch under his arm.
Ralph shouted at him.
Piggy! Have you got any matches?
The other boys took up the cry till the mountain rang. Piggy shook his head and came to the pile.
My! Youve made a big heap, havent you?
Jack pointed suddenly.
His specsuse them as burning glasses!
Piggy was surrounded before he could back away.
Herelet me go! His voice rose to a shriek of terror as Jack snatched the glasses off his face. Mind out! Give em back! I can hardly see! Youll break the conch!
Ralph elbowed him to the side[10] and knelt by the pile.
Stand out of the light.
There was pushing and pulling and officious cries. Ralph moved the lenses back and forth, this way and that, till a glossy white image of the declining sun lay on a piece of rotten wood. Almost at once a thin trickle of smoke rose up and made him cough. Jack knelt too and blew gently, so that the smoke drifted away, thickening, and a tiny flame appeared. The flame, nearly invisible at first in that bright sunlight, enveloped a small twig, grew, was enriched with color and reached up to a branch which exploded with a sharp crack. The flame flapped higher and the boys broke into a cheer.
My specs! howled Piggy. Give me my specs!
Ralph stood away from the pile and put the glasses into Piggys groping hands. His voice subsided to a mutter.
Jus blurs, thats all. Hardly see my hand
The boys were dancing. The pile was so rotten, and now so tinder-dry, that whole limbs yielded passionately to the yellow flames that poured upwards and shook a great beard of flame twenty feet in the air. For yards round the fire the heat was like a blow, and the breeze was a river of sparks. Trunks crumbled to white dust.
Ralph shouted.
More wood! All of you get more wood!
Life became a race with the fire and the boys scattered through the upper forest. To keep a clean flag of flame flying on the mountain was the immediate end and no one looked further. Even the smallest boys, unless fruit claimed them, brought little pieces of wood and threw them in. The air moved a little faster and became a light wind, so that leeward and windward side were clearly differentiated. On one side the air was cool, but on the other the fire thrust out a savage arm of heat that crinkled hair on the instant. Boys who felt the evening wind on their damp faces paused to enjoy the freshness of it and then found they were exhausted. They flung themselves down in the shadows that lay among the shattered rocks.
The beard of flame diminished quickly; then the pile fell inwards with a soft, cindery sound, and sent a great tree of sparks upwards that leaned away and drifted downwind. The boys lay, panting like dogs.
Ralph raised his head off his forearms.
That was no good.
Roger spat efficiently into the hot dust.
What dyou mean?
There wasnt any smoke. Only flame.
Piggy had settled himself in a space between two rocks, and sat with the conch on his knees.
We havent made a fire, he said, whats any use. We couldnt keep a fire like that going, not if we tried.
A fat lot you tried, said Jack contemptuously. You just sat.
We used his specs, said Simon, smearing a black cheek with his forearm. He helped that way.
I got the conch, said Piggy indignantly. You let me speak!
The conch doesnt count on top of the mountain, said Jack, so you shut up.
I got the conch in my hand.
Put on green branches, said Maurice. Thats the best way to make smoke.
I got the conch
Jack turned fiercely.
You shut up!
Piggy wilted. Ralph took the conch from him and looked round the circle of boys.
Weve got to have special people for looking after the fire. Any day there may be a ship out therehe waved his arm at the taut wire of the horizonand if we have a signal going theyll come and take us off. And another thing. We ought to have more rules. Where the conch is, thats a meeting. The same up here as down there.
They assented. Piggy opened his mouth to speak, caught Jacks eye and shut it again.
Jack held out his hands for the conch and stood up, holding the delicate thing carefully in his sooty hands.
I agree with Ralph. Weve got to have rules and obey them. After all, were not savages. Were English, and the English are best at everything. So weve got to do the right things.
He turned to Ralph.
Ralph, Ill split up the choirmy hunters, that isinto groups, and well be responsible for keeping the fire going
This generosity brought a spatter of applause from the boys, so that Jack grinned at them, then waved the conch for silence.
Well let the fire burn out now. Who would see smoke at night-time, anyway? And we can start the fire again whenever we like. Altos, you can keep the fire going this week, and trebles the next
The assembly assented gravely.
And well be responsible for keeping a lookout too. If we see a ship out therethey followed the direction of his bony arm with their eyeswell put green branches on. Then therell be more smoke.
They gazed intently at the dense blue of the horizon, as if a little silhouette might appear there at any moment. The sun in the west was a drop of burning gold that slid nearer and nearer the sill of the world. All at once they were aware of the evening as the end of light and warmth.
Roger took the conch and looked round at them gloomily.
Ive been watching the sea. There hasnt been the trace of a ship. Perhaps well never be rescued.
A murmur rose and swept away. Ralph took back the conch.
I said before well be rescued sometime. Weve just got to wait, thats all.
Daring, indignant, Piggy took the conch.
Thats what I said! I said about our meetings and things and then you said shut up
His voice lifted into the whine of virtuous recrimination. They stirred and began to shout him down.
You said you wanted a small fire and you been and built a pile like a hayrick. If I say anything, cried Piggy, with bitter realism, you say shut up; but if Jack or Maurice or Simon
He paused in the tumult, standing, looking beyond them and down the unfriendly side of the mountain to the great patch where they had found dead wood. Then he laughed so strangely that they were hushed, looking at the flash of his spectacles in astonishment. They followed his gaze to find the sour joke.
You got your small fire all right.
Smoke was rising here and there among the creepers that festooned the dead or dying trees. As they watched, a flash of fire appeared at the root of one wisp, and then the smoke thickened. Small flames stirred at the trunk of a tree and crawled away through leaves and brushwood, dividing and increasing. One patch touched a tree trunk and scrambled up like a bright squirrel. The smoke increased, sifted, rolled outwards. The squirrel leapt on the wings of the wind and clung to another standing tree, eating downwards. Beneath the dark canopy of leaves and smoke the fire laid hold on the forest and began to gnaw. Acres of black and yellow smoke rolled steadily toward the sea. At the sight of the flames and the irresistible course of the fire, the boys broke into shrill, excited cheering. The flames, as though they were a kind of wild life, crept as a jaguar creeps on its belly toward a line of birch-like saplings that fledged an outcrop of the pink rock. They flapped at the first of the trees, and the branches grew a brief foliage of fire. The heart of flame leapt nimbly across the gap between the trees and then went swinging and flaring along the whole row of them. Beneath the capering boys a quarter of a mile square of forest was savage with smoke and flame. The separate noises of the fire merged into a drum-roll that seemed to shake the mountain.
You got your small fire all right.
Startled, Ralph realized that the boys were falling still and silent, feeling the beginnings of awe at the power set free below them. The knowledge and the awe made him savage.
Oh, shut up!
I got the conch, said Piggy, in a hurt voice. I got a right to speak.
They looked at him with eyes that lacked interest in what they saw, and cocked ears at the drum-roll of the fire. Piggy glanced nervously into hell and cradled the conch.
We got to let that burn out now. And that was our firewood.
He licked his lips.
There aint nothing we can do. We ought to be more careful. Im scared
Jack dragged his eyes away from the fire.
Youre always scared. YahFatty!
I got the conch, said Piggy bleakly. He turned to Ralph. I got the conch, aint I Ralph?
Unwillingly Ralph turned away from the splendid, awful sight.
Whats that?
The conch. I got a right to speak.
The twins giggled together.
We wanted smoke
Now look!
A pall stretched for miles away from the island. All the boys except Piggy started to giggle; presently they were shrieking with laughter.
Piggy lost his temper.
I got the conch! Just you listen! The first thing we ought to have made was shelters down there by the beach. It wasnt half cold down there in the night. But the first time Ralph says fire you goes howling and screaming up this here mountain. Like a pack of kids!
By now they were listening to the tirade.
How can you expect to be rescued if you dont put first things first and act proper?
He took off his glasses and made as if to put down the conch; but the sudden motion toward it of most of the older boys changed his mind. He tucked the shell under his arm, and crouched back on a rock.
Then when you get here you build a bonfire that isnt no use. Now you been and set the whole island on fire. Wont we look funny if the whole island burns up? Cooked fruit, thats what well have to eat, and roast pork. And thats nothing to laugh at! You said Ralph was chief and you dont give him time to think. Then when he says something you rush off, like, like
He paused for breath, and the fire growled at them.
And thats not all. Them kids. The little uns. Who took any notice of em? Who knows how many we got?
Ralph took a sudden step forward.
I told you to. I told you to get a list of names!
How could I, cried Piggy indignantly, all by myself? They waited for two minutes, then they fell in the sea; they went into the forest; they just scattered everywhere. How was I to know which was which?
Ralph licked pale lips.
Then you dont know how many of us there ought to be?
How could I with them little uns running round like insects? Then when you three came back, as soon as you said make a fire, they all ran away, and I never had a chance
Thats enough! said Ralph sharply, and snatched back the conch. If you didnt you didnt.
then you come up here an pinch my specs
Jack turned on him.
You shut up!
and them little uns was wandering about down there where the fire is. How dyou know they arent still there?
Piggy stood up and pointed to the smoke and flames. A murmur rose among the boys and died away. Something strange was happening to Piggy, for he was gasping for breath.
That little un gasped Piggyhim with the mark on his face, I dont see him. Where is he now?
The crowd was as silent as death.
Him that talked about the snakes. He was down there
A tree exploded in the fire like a bomb. Tall swathes of creepers rose for a moment into view, agonized, and went down again. The little boys screamed at them.
Snakes! Snakes! Look at the snakes!
In the west, and unheeded, the sun lay only an inch or two above the sea. Their faces were lit redly from beneath. Piggy fell against a rock and clutched it with both hands.
That little un that had a mark on his facewhere ishe now? I tell you I dont see him.
The boys looked at each other fearfully, unbelieving.
where is he now?
Ralph muttered the reply as if in shame. Perhaps he went back to the, the
Beneath them, on the unfriendly side of the mountain, the drum-roll continued.
Chapter Three
Huts on the Beach
Jack was bent double. He was down like a sprinter, his nose only a few inches from the humid earth. The tree trunks and the creepers that festooned them lost themselves in a green dusk thirty feet above him, and all about was the undergrowth. There was only the faintest indication of a trail here; a cracked twig and what might be the impression of one side of a hoof. He lowered his chin and stared at the traces as though he would force them to speak to him. Then doglike, uncomfortably on all fours yet unheeding his discomfort, he stole forward five yards and stopped. Here was loop of creeper with a tendril pendant from a node. The tendril was polished on the underside; pigs, passing through the loop, brushed it with their bristly hide.
Jack crouched with his face a few inches away from this clue, then stared forward into the semidarkness of the undergrowth. His sandy hair, considerably longer than it had been when they dropped in, was lighter now; and his bare back was a mass of dark freckles and peeling sunburn. A sharpened stick about five feet long trailed from his right hand, and except for a pair of tattered shorts held up by his knife-belt he was naked. He closed his eyes, raised his head and breathed in gently with flared nostrils, assessing the current of warm air for information. The forest and he were very still.
At length he let out his breath in a long sigh and opened his eyes. They were bright blue, eyes that in this frustration seemed bolting and nearly mad. He passed his tongue across dry lips and scanned the uncommunicative forest. Then again he stole forward and cast this way and that over the ground.
The silence of the forest was more oppressive than the heat, and at this hour of the day there was not even the whine of insects. Only when Jack himself roused a gaudy bird from a primitive nest of sticks was the silence shattered and echoes set ringing by a harsh cry that seemed to come out of the abyss of ages. Jack himself shrank at this cry with a hiss of indrawn breath, and for a minute became less a hunter than a furtive thing, ape-like among the tangle of trees. Then the trail, the frustration, claimed him again and he searched the ground avidly. By the trunk of a vast tree that grew pale flowers on its grey bark he checked, closed his eyes, and once more drew in the warm air; and this time his breath came short, there was even a passing pallor in his face, and then the surge of blood again. He passed like a shadow under the darkness of the tree and crouched, looking down at the trodden ground at his feet.
The droppings were warm. They lay piled among turned earth. They were olive green, smooth, and they steamed a little. Jack lifted his head and stared at the inscrutable masses of creeper that lay across the trail. Then he raised his spear and sneaked forward. Beyond the creeper, the trail joined a pig-run that was wide enough and trodden enough to be a path. The ground was hardened by an accustomed tread and as Jack rose to his full height he heard something moving on it. He swung back his right arm and hurled the spear with all his strength. From the pig-run came the quick, hard patter of hoofs, a castanet sound, seductive, maddeningthe promise of meat. He rushed out of the undergrowth and snatched up his spear. The pattering of pigs trotters died away in the distance.