He took a few rapid steps toward the beach, then came back.
Only I know how they feel. See? Thats all.
The best thing we can do is get ourselves rescued.
Jack had to think for a moment before he could remember what rescue was.
Rescue? Yes, of course! All the same, Id like to catch a pig first He snatched up his spear and dashed it into the ground. The opaque, mad look came into his eyes again. Ralph looked at him critically through his tangle of fair hair.
So long as your hunters remember the fire
You and your fire!
The two boys trotted down the beach, and, turning at the waters edge, looked back at the pink mountain. The trickle of smoke sketched a chalky line up the solid blue of the sky, wavered high up and faded. Ralph frowned.
I wonder how far off you could see that.
Miles.
We dont make enough smoke.
The bottom part of the trickle, as though conscious of their gaze, thickened to a creamy blur which crept up the feeble column.
Theyve put on green branches, muttered Ralph. I wonder! He screwed up his eyes and swung round to search the horizon.
Got it!
Jack shouted so loudly that Ralph jumped.
What? Where? Is it a ship?
But Jack was pointing to the high declivities that led down from the mountain to the flatter part of the island.
Of course! Theyll lie up therethey must, when the suns too hot
Ralph gazed bewildered at his rapt face.
they get up high. High up and in the shade, resting during the heat, like cows at home
I thought you saw a ship!
We could steal up on onepaint our faces so they wouldnt seeperhaps surround them and then
Indignation took away Ralphs control.
I was talking about smoke! Dont you want to be rescued? All you can talk about is pig, pig, pig!
But we want meat!
And I work all day with nothing but Simon and you come back and dont even notice the huts!
I was working too
But you like it! shouted Ralph. You want to hunt! While I
They faced each other on the bright beach, astonished at the rub of feeling. Ralph looked away first, pretending interest in a group of littluns on the sand. From beyond the platform came the shouting of the hunters in the swimming pool. On the end of the platform, Piggy was lying flat, looking down into the brilliant water.
People dont help much.
He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were.
Simon. He helps. He pointed at the shelters.
All the rest rushed off. Hes done as much as I have. Only
Simons always about.
Ralph stared back to the shelters with Jack by his side.
Do a bit for you[11], muttered Jack, before I have a bathe.
Dont bother.
But when they reached the shelters Simon was not to be seen. Ralph put his head in the hole, withdrew it, and turned to Jack.
Hes buzzed off.
Got fed up[12], said Jack, and gone for a bathe.
Ralph frowned.
Hes queer. Hes funny.
Jack nodded, as much for the sake of agreeing as anything, and by tacit consent they left the shelter and went toward the bathing pool.
And then, said Jack, when Ive had a bathe and something to eat, Ill just trek over to the other side of the mountain and see if I can see any traces. Coming?
But the suns nearly set!
I might have time
They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling, unable to communicate.
If I could only get a pig!
Ill come back and go on with the shelter.
They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate. All the warm salt water of the bathing pool and the shouting and splashing and laughing were only just sufficient to bring them together again.
* * *Simon was not in the bathing pool as they had expected.
When the other two had trotted down the beach to look back at the mountain he had followed them for a few yards and then stopped. He had stood frowing down at a pile of sand on the beach where somebody had been trying to build a little house or hut. Then he turned his back on this and walked into the forest with an air of purpose. He was a small, skinny boy, his chin pointed, and his eyes so bright they had deceived Ralph into thinking him delightfully gay and wicked. The coarse mop of black hair was long and swung down, almost concealing a low, broad forehead. He wore the remains of shorts and his feet were bare like Jacks. Always darkish in color, Simon was burned by the sun to a deep tan that glistened with sweat.
He picked his way up the scar, passed the great rock where Ralph had climbed on the first morning, then turned off to his right among the trees. He walked with an accustomed tread through the acres of fruit trees, where the least energetic could find an easy if unsatisfying meal. Flower and fruit grew together on the same tree and everywhere was the scent of ripeness and the booming of a million bees at pasture. Here the littluns who had run after him caught up with him. They talked, cried out unintelligibly, lugged him toward the trees. Then, amid the roar of bees in the afternoon sunlight, Simon found for them the fruit they could not reach, pulled off the choicest from up in the foliage, passed them back down to the endless, outstretched hands. When he had satisfied them he paused and looked round. The littluns watched him inscrutably over double handfuls of ripe fruit.
Simon turned away from them and went where the just perceptible path led him. Soon high jungle closed in. Tall trunks bore unexpected pale flowers all the way up to the dark canopy where life went on clamorously. The air here was dark too, and the creepers dropped their ropes like the rigging of foundered ships. His feet left prints in the soft soil and the creepers shivered throughout their lengths when he bumped them.
He came at last to a place where more sunshine fell. Since they had not so far to go for light the creepers had woven a great mat that hung at the side of an open space in the jungle; for here a patch of rock came close to the surface and would not allow more than little plants and ferns to grow. The whole space was walled with dark aromatic bushes, and was a bowl of heat and light. A great tree, fallen across one corner, leaned against the trees that still stood and a rapid climber flaunted red and yellow sprays right to the top.
Simon paused. He looked over his shoulder as Jack had done at the close ways behind him and glanced swiftly round to confirm that he was utterly alone. For a moment his movements were almost furtive. Then he bent down and wormed his way into the center of the mat. The creepers and the bushes were so close that he left his sweat on them and they pulled together behind him. When he was secure in the middle he was in a little cabin screened off from the open space by a few leaves. He squatted down, parted the leaves and looked out into the clearing. Nothing moved but a pair of gaudy butterflies that danced round each other in the hot air. Holding his breath he cocked a critical ear at the sounds of the island. Evening was advancing toward the island; the sounds of the bright fantastic birds, the bee-sounds, even the crying of the gulls that were returning to their roosts among the square rocks, were fainter. The deep sea breaking miles away on the reef made an undertone less perceptible than the susurration of the blood.
Simon dropped the screen of leaves back into place. The slope of the bars of honeycolored sunlight decreased; they slid up the bushes, passed over the green candle-like buds, moved up toward the canopy, and darkness thickened under the trees. With the fading of the light the riotous colors died and the heat and urgency cooled away. The candlebuds stirred. Their green sepals drew back a little and the white tips of the flowers rose delicately to meet the open air.