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.