e fire like a sprinter
at his mark and his face  was half-hidden by hair  and smut. Samneric peered
together  round  a palm tree  at the  edge  of the forest A littlun  howled,
creased and crimson, by the  bathing pool and Piggy stood  on the  platform,
the white conch gripped in his hands.
     '"Tonight we're having a feast We've killed a pig and  we've  got meat.
You can come and eat with us if you like."
     Up  in the  cloud canyons  the thunder boomed again. Jack and  the  two
anonymous  savages with  him swayed, looking up,  and  then  recovered.  The
littlun  went  on  howling. Jack  was waiting for  something.  He  whispered
urgently to the others.
     "Go on-now!"
     The two savages murmured. Jack spoke sharply.
     "Go on!"  The two  savages looked  at each  other, raised their  spears
together and spoke in time.
     "The Chief has spoken."
     Then the three of them turned and trotted away.
     Presently  Ralph rose  to his feet,  looking  at  the  place where  the
savages had vanished. Samneric came, talking in an awed whisper.
     "I thought it was-"
     "-and I was-"
     "-scared."
     Piggy stood above them on the platform, still holding the conch.
     "That was Jack and Maurice and Robert," said Ralph. "Aren't they having
fun?"
     "I thought I was going to have asthma."
     "Sucks to your ass-mar."
     "When I saw Jack I was sure he'd go for the conch. Can't think why."
     The group  of boys looked at the white shell with affectionate respect.
Piggy  placed  it in  Ralph's hands  and the littluns,  seeing the  familiar
symbol, started to come back.
     "Not here."
     He turned toward the platform, feeling the need for  ritual. First went
Ralph, the white conch cradled,  then Piggy very grave, then the twins, then
the littluns and the others.
     "Sit down  all of you. They raided us for fire. They're having fun. But
the-"
     Ralph was puzzled by the shutter that flickered in his brain. There was
something he wanted to say; then the shutter had come down.
     "But the-"
     They were regarding  him gravely, not yet troubled  by any doubts about
his sufficiency. Ralph pushed  the idiot hair out of his eyes and looked  at
Piggy.
     "But the ... oh ... the fire! Of course, the fire!"
     He started to laugh, then stopped and became fluent instead.
     "The  fire's the  most  important thing. Without the  fire we  can't be
rescued. I'd like to put on war-paint and be a savage. But we  must keep the
fire burning. The fire's the  most  important  thing on the island, because,
because-"
     He paused again and the silence became full of doubt and wonder.
     Piggy whispered urgently. "Rescue."
     "Oh yes. Without the fire  we  can't be rescued. So we must stay by the
fire and make smoke."
     When he stopped no one said anything. After the many brilliant speeches
that had been made  on  this very spot Ralph  s remarks seemed lame, even to
the littluns. At last Bill held out his  hands for the conch.  "Now we can't
have the fire up there-because we can't  have the fire up there-we need more
people  to keep it going. Let's  go to  this feast and  tell them the fire's
hard on  the  rest of  us.  And the hunting  and all that,  being  savages I
mean-it must be jolly good fun."
     Samneric took the conch.
     "That must be fun like Bill says-and as he's invited us-"
     "-to a feast-"
     "-meat-"
     "-crackling-"
     "-I could do with some meat-"
     Ralph held up his hand.
     "Why shouldn't we get our own meat?"
     The twins looked at each other. Bill answered.
     "We don't want to go in the jungle."
     Ralph grimaced.
     "He-you know-goes."
     "He's a hunter. They're all hunters. That's different."
     No one spoke for a moment, then Piggy muttered to the sand.
     "Meat-"
     The littluns sat, solemnly  thinking of meat, and  dribbling.  Overhead
the cannon boomed again and the dry  palm fronds clattered in a sudden  gust
of hot wind.

     "You are a  silly little  boy,"  said the Lord  of the Flies,  "just an
ignorant, silly little boy."
     Simon moved his swollen tongue but said nothing.
     "Don't you agree?" said the Lord of the Flies. "Aren't you just a silly
little boy?"
     Simon answered him in the same silent voice.
     "Well then," said the Lord of the Flies, "you'd better run off and play
with  the  others. They think  you're batty.  You don't want  Ralph to think
you're batty, do you? You like Ralph a lot, don't you? And Piggy, and Jack?"
     Simon's head was tilted slightly up. His  eyes could not break away and
the Lord of the Flies hung in space before him.
     "What are you doing out here all alone? Aren't you afraid of me?"
     Simon shook.
     "There isn't anyone to help you. Only me. And I'm the Beast."
     Simon's mouth labored, brought forth audible words.
     "Pig's head on a stick."
     "Fancy thinking the Beast was  something you could hunt and kill!" said
the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated
places echoed with  the parody of laughter.  "You knew, didn't you? I'm part
of you? Close, close, close! I'm the reason why it's no  go?  Why things are
what they are?"
     The laughter shivered again.
     "Come now," said  the  Lord of  the Flies. "Get back to  the others and
we'll forget the whole thing."
     Simon's head wobbled. His  eyes  were  half closed  as  though he  were
imitating the obscene thing on the stick.  He knew that one of his times was
coming on. The Lord of the Flies was expanding like a balloon.
     "This is ridiculous. You know perfectly well  you'll  only meet me down
there-so don't try to escape!"
     Simon's body was arched  and stiff. The Lord of the Flies  spoke in the
voice of a schoolmaster.
     "This has gone quite far enough. My poor, misguided child, do you think
you know better than I do?"
     There was a pause.
     "I'm warning you. I'm going to get angry. D'you see? You're not wanted.
Understand?  We are going  to  have  fun on this island.  Understand? We are
going to have fun on this island! So don't try it on, my poor misguided boy,
or else-"
     Simon  found  he  was  looking into  a vast  mouth. There was blackness
within, a blackness that spread.
     "-Or else," said the Lord of the Flies, "we shall do you. See? Jack and
Roger and Maurice and Robert and Bill and Piggy and Ralph. Do you. See?"
     Simon was inside the mouth. He fell down and lost consciousness.





     CHAPTER NINE
     <i>A View to a Death</i>

     Over  the island the build-up  of clouds continued. A steady current of
heated air rose all  day  from the mountain  and was  thrust to ten thousand
feet; revolving masses of gas piled up the static until the air was ready to
explode. By early evening the sun had gone and a brassy glare  had taken the
place of clear daylight. Even the  air that pushed in from  the sea was  hot
ana  held  no refreshment.  Colors  drained  from  water and  trees and pink
surfaces of rock, and the  white and brown clouds brooded, Nothing prospered
but the  flies who blackened their  lord and made the spilt guts look like a
heap of glistening coal Even  when the vessel broke in Simon's nose  and the
blood gushed out they left him alone, preferring the pig's high flavor.
     With  the running of the blood Simon's fit passed into the weariness of
sleep. He  lay in the mat of  creepers  while the  evening  advanced and the
cannon continued to play. At last he woke and saw dimly the dark earth close
by his cheek. Still he did not move but lay there, his face side-ways on the
earth, his eyes looking dully before him. Then he turned over, drew his feet
under  him  and laid  hold  of the creepers to  pull  himself up.  When  the
creepers shook the flies  exploded from  the  guts with a  vicious note  and
clamped back on  again. Simon got to  his feet. The light was unearthly. The
Lord of the Flies hung on his stick like a black ball.
     Simon spoke aloud to the clearing.
     "What else is there to do?"
     Nothing  replied.  Simon  turned away from the open  space and  crawled
through  the creepers  till he was  in  the dusk of  the  forest.  He walked
drearily between the trunks, his face empty of expression, and the blood was
dry  round  his mouth  and chin.  Only  sometimes  as he lifted the ropes of
creeper aside and chose his direction from the trend of the land, he mouthed
words that did not reach the air.
     Presently the creepers  festooned  the trees less frequently  and there
was  a scatter of pearly light from the sky down through the trees. This was
the backbone of the  island, the  slightly higher land  that lay beneath the
mountain where the  forest was no longer deep Jungle. Here there  were  wide
spaces interspersed with thickets and huge trees and the trend of the ground
led him up as the forest opened. He pushed on, staggering sometimes with his
weariness but  never stopping. The usual brightness was  gone  from his eyes
and he walked with a sort of glum determination like an old man.
     A  buffet  of wind  made him  stagger and he saw that he was out in the
open, on  rock, under a brassy  sky.  He found his  legs  were weak and  his
tongue gave him pain all the time. When the wind reached the mountain-top he
could see something happen, a flicker of blue stuff against brown clouds. He
pushed  himself forward and the wind came again, stronger  now,  cuffing the
forest heads till they ducked and  roared. Simon saw a humped thing suddenly
sit up on the top and look down at him. He hid his face, and toiled on.
     The flies had found the figure too. The life-like movement would  scare
them off for a moment so that they made a dark cloud round the head. Then as
the blue material of the  parachute collapsed the corpulent figure would bow
forward, sighing, and the flies settle once more.
     Simon  felt his  knees  smack the rock. He  crawled forward and soon he
understood.  The tangle of lines showed him the mechanics of this parody; he
examined the white  nasal bones, the teeth, the colors of corruption. He saw
how pitilessly the layers  of rubber and  canvas held together the poor body
that should be rotting away. Then the wind blew again and the figure lifted,
bowed,  and  breathed foully at  him. Simon knelt on all  fours and was sick
till his  stomach was  empty. Then he took  the lines in his hands; he freed
them from the rocks and the figure from the wind's indignity.
     At last he turned away  and looked down at the beaches. The fire by the
platform appeared to be out, or at least making  no smoke. Further along the
beach, beyond the little river and near a great slab of rock, a thin trickle
of smoke was climbing into the sky. Simon, forgetful of the lies, shaded his
eyes with both hands  and peered  at the smoke. Even at that distance it was
possible to see most of the  boys-perhaps all the boys-were  there. So  they
had shifted camp then, away from the beast. As Simon thought this, he turned
to  the poor  broken  thing that sat  stinking by  his side.  The beast  was
harmless and horrible;  and  the  news must  reach  the others  as  soon  as
possible. He  started down  the mountain and his legs gave beneath him. Even
with great care the best he could do was a stagger.

     "Bathing," said Ralph, "that's the only thing to do."
     Piggy was inspecting the looming sky through his glass.
     "I  don't  like them  clouds.  Remember how  it  rained  just  after we
landed?"
     "Going to rain again."
     Ralph  dived into the  pool. A couple  of littluns were playing  at the
edge, trying to extract comfort from a wetness warmer than blood. Piggy took
off his glasses, stepped primly into the  water and then put  them on again.
Ralph came to the surface and squirted a jet of water at him.
     "Mind my specs," said Piggy. "If  I get water on the glass I got to get
out and clean 'em."
     Ralph squirted again and missed. He laughed at Piggys  expecting him to
retire meekly as usual and in pained  silence. Instead, Piggy beat the water
with his hands.
     "Stop it!" he shouted. "D`you hear?"
     Furiously he drove the water into Ralph's face.
     "All right, all right," said Ralph. "Keep your hair on."
     Piggy stopped beating the water.
     "I got a pain in my head. I wish the air was cooler."
     "I wish the rain would come."
     "I wish we could go home."
     Piggy lay back against the  sloping sand side of the  pool. His stomach
protruded and the water dried on it Ralph squirted up at the sky.  One could
guess at the movement of the sun by the progress of a light  patch among the
clouds. He knelt in the water and looked round.
     "Where's everybody?"
     Piggy sat up.
     "P`raps they're lying in the shelter."
     "Where's Samneric?"
     "And Bill?"
     Piggy pointed beyond the platform.
     "That's where they've gone. Jack's parry."
     "Let them go," said Ralph, uneasily, "I don't care."
     "Just for some meat-"
     "And for  hunting,"  said Ralph, wisely, "and for  pretending  to be  a
tribe, and putting on war-paint."
     Piggy stirred the sand under water and did not look at Ralph.
     "P'raps we ought  to go  too." Ralph looked  at him quickly  and  Piggy
blushed, "I mean-to make sure nothing happens." Ralph squirted water again.

     Long before  Ralph and Piggy  came up with  Jack's lot, they could hear
the party. There was a  stretch of grass  in a place where the  palms left a
wide band of turf between the forest and the snore. Just  one step down from
the edge of  the turf was the white, blown  sand of above high water,  warm,
dry,  trodden. Below that  again was  a rock that stretched away  toward the
lagoon. Beyond was a short stretch of sand and then the edge of the water. A
fire burned on the  rock and fat dripped from the roasting pig-meat into the
invisible flames.  All the boys of the  island, except Piggy, Ralph,  Simon,
and  the two tending the pig, were grouped on  the turf. They were laughing,
singing, lying,  squatting,  or standing on the grass, holding food in their
hands.  But to judge by the greasy faces, the meat  eating  was almost done;
and  some  held coconut  shells in their hands  and were drinking from them.
Before the party had started a great log had been dragged into the center of
the lawn and Jack, painted and garlanded, sat there like an idol. There were
piles  of meat on green leaves  near him, and fruit, and coconut shells full
of drink.
     Piggy  and Ralph came to the edge of the grassy platform; and the boys,
as they noticed  them, fell silent one by one till only the boy next to Jack
was talking. Then  the silence intruded even there and Jack turned where  he
sat For a time he looked at them and the crackle of the fire was the loudest
noise over the  droning  of the  reef,  Ralph looked away; and Sam, thinking
that Ralph  had turned  to him accusingly, put down  his  gnawed bone with a
nervous giggle. Ralph  took an uncertain  step, pointed to a palm tree,  and
whispered something  inaudible  to  Piggy; and  they both giggled like  Sam.
Lifting  his feet high out of the sand,  Ralph started to stroll past. Piggy
tried to whistle.
     At this  moment the boys who  were cooking at  the fire suddenly hauled
off a  great  chunk of meat and ran  with  it toward the grass.  They bumped
Piggy, who was burnt, and  yelled  and danced.  Immediately, Ralph  and  the
crowd of boys were united and relieved  by a  storm of laughter.  Piggy once
more  was the center of social  derision so that  everyone felt cheerful and
normal.
     Jack stood up and waved his spear.
     "Take them some meat."
     The boys with  the  spit gave  Ralph and Piggy  each a succulent chunk.
They  took the gift,  dribbling.  So they stood and  ate beneath  a  sky  of
thunderous brass that rang with the storm-coming.
     Jack waved his spear again.
     "Has everybody eaten as much as they want?"
     There was still food left, sizzling on the wooden spits, heaped  on the
green platters. Betrayed by  his stomach, Piggy threw a picked bone  down on
the beach and stooped for more.
     Jack spoke again, impatiently.
     "Has everybody eaten as much as they want?"
     His tone conveyed  a warning, given out of the pride  of ownership, and
the  boys  ate  faster  while there  was still  time.  Seeing  there was  no
immediate likelihood of  a pause. Jack rose from the log that was his throne
and sauntered to the edge of the grass. He looked down from behind his paint
at Ralph and Piggy. They moved  a little farther off over the sand and Ralph
watched the fire  as he  ate. He  noticed,  without  understanding, how  the
flames were visible now against the  dull light. Evening was  come, not with
calm beauty but with the threat of violence.
     Jack spoke.
     "Give me a drink."
     Henry brought him a shell and he drank,  watching Piggy and Ralph  over
the jagged rim.. Power lay in the brown swell of his forearms: authority sat
on his shoulder and chattered in his ear like an ape.
     "All sit down."
     The boys  ranged themselves in  rows on  the grass before him but Ralph
and Piggy stayed a foot lower, standing  on the soft sand. Jack ignored them
for the moment,  turned his mask down to the seated boys and pointed at them
with the spear.
     "Who is going to join my tribe?"
     Ralph made a sudden movement that became a  stumble.  Some of  the boys
turned toward him.
     "I gave you food," said Jack, "and my hunters will protect you from the
beast. Who will join my tribe?"
     "I'm chief,"  said Ralph, "because you chose me. And  we  were going to
keep the fire going. Now you run after food-"
     "You ran yourself !" shouted Jack. "Look at that bone in your hands!"
     Ralph went crimson.
     "I said you were hunters. That was your job."
     Jack ignored him again.
     "Who'll join my tribe and have fun?"
     I'm chief," said Ralph  tremulously. "And what about the fire? And I've
got the conch-"
     "You haven't  got  it with  you,"  said  Jack,  sneering. "You  left it
behind. See, clever? And the conch doesn't count at this end of the island-"
     All at  once the thunder struck. Instead of the dull boom there  was  a
point of impact in the explosion.
     "The conch counts here too," said Ralph, "and all over the island."
     "What are you going to do about it then?"
     Ralph examined the ranks of boys.  There was  no help  in  them  and he
looked away, confused and sweating. Piggy whispered.
     "The fire-rescue."
     "Who'll join my tribe?"
     "I will."
     "Me."
     "I will."
     "I'll blow the conch," said Ralph breathlessly, "and call an assembly."
     "We shan't hear it."
     "Come away. There's going to be trouble. And we've had our meat."
     There was a blink of  bright  light beyond  the forest and  the thunder
exploded  again so that a littlun  started to  whine. Big drops of rain fell
among them making individual sounds when they struck.
     "Going to  be a storm," said Ralph,  "and you'll have rain like when we
dropped here. Who's clever now? Where  are your shelters? What are you going
to do about that?"
     The hunters were looking uneasily at the sky, flinching from the stroke
of  the  drops.  A wave  of  restlessness set the  boys swaying  and  moving
aimlessly. The flickering light became brighter and the blows of the thunder
were only just bearable. The littluns began to run about, screaming.
     Jack leapt on to the sand.
     "Do our dance! Come on! Dance!"
     He ran  stumbling  through the thick  sand  to the open space  of  rock
beyond  the  fire.  Between the flashes of  lightning the  air was dark  and
terrible; and the  boys followed him, clamorously.  Roger  became  the  pig,
grunting  and  charging  at Jack,  who side-stepped.  The hunters took their
spears, the cooks  took  spits, and the  rest  clubs of firewood, A circling
movement developed and a chant  While Roger mimed the terror of the pig, the
littluns ran and jumped OB the outside of the circle. Piggy and Ralph, under
the threat of  the sky,  found  themselves  eager  to  take a place  in this
demented but partly secure society. They were glad to touch  the brown backs
of the fence that hemmed in the terror and made it governable.
     <i>"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"</i>
     The movement became regular while the chant  lost its first superficial
excitement and began to beat like a steady pulse. Roger ceased to  be a  pig
and became a hunter, so that the center of the ring yawned emptily. Some  of
the littluns started a ring on their own; and the complementary circles went
round and round as though repetition would  achieve safety of itself.  There
was tie throb and stamp of a single organism.
     The dark sky was shattered by  a  blue-white scar. An instant later the
noise was on them like the blow of a gigantic whip. The chant rose a tone in
agony.
     <i>"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!</i>
     Now out of the terror rose another desire, thick, urgent, blind.
     <i>"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"</i>
     Again  the  blue-white  scar  Jagged  above  them  and  the  sulphurous
explosion beat down. The littluns screamed and blundered about, fleeing from
the edge  of  the forest, and  one  of them broke the ring of biguns  in his
terror.
     "Him! Him!"
     The circle became a horseshoe. A thing was crawling out of  the forest.
It came darkly, uncertainly. The shrill screaming that rose before the beast
was like a pain. The beast stumbled into the horseshoe.
     <i>"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"</i>
     The blue-white scar  was constant,  the  noise  unendurable.  Simon was
crying out something about a dead man on a hill.
     <i>"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!"</i>
     The sticks fell and the mouth of  the new circle crunched and screamed.
The beast was on its knees in the center, it's arms folded over its face. It
was crying out  against the abominable  noise  something about a body on the
hill. The beast struggled forward,  broke the  ring and  fell over the steep
edge of  the rock  to the sand by  the water. At once the crowd surged after
it, poured  down  the rock, leapt on to  the beast, screamed,  struck,  bit,
tore.  There were no words,  and no movements  but the tearing of  teeth and
claws.
     Then  the  clouds opened and let  down the rain like  a waterfall.  The
water  bounded  from  the  mountain-top,  tore leaves and branches  from the
trees, poured like  a  cold shower over the  straggling heap  on  the  sand.
Presently  the heap broke up and figures  staggered away. Only the beast lay
still, a few yards from the sea. Even in the rain they could see how small a
beast it was; and already its blood was stain-log the sand.
     Now  a great wind blew the rain sideways, cascading the  water from the
forest trees. On the mountain-top the parachute filled and moved; the figure
slid, rose to its feet,  spun, swayed down through a vastness of wet air and
trod with ungainly feet the tops of the high  trees; falling, still falling,
it sank toward the  beach and the boys  rushed screaming into the  darkness.
The  parachute took the figure forward, furrowing  the lagoon, and bumped it
over the reef and out to sea.
     Toward midnight  the rain  ceased and  the clouds drifted away, so that
the sky was scattered once more with the incredible lamps of stars. Then the
breeze died  too and  there was no noise save  the drip and trickle of water
that ran out of clefts and spilled down, leaf by leaf, to the brown earth of
the island. The air was cool, moist, and clear; and presently even the sound
of  the  water was still. The beast lay huddled on the  pale beach  and  the
stains spread, inch by inch.
     The  edge  of  the  lagoon became  a  streak of  phosphorescence  which
advanced  minutely, as  the great  wave of the tide flowed.  The clear water
mirrored the clear sky and the  angular bright  constellations. The  line of
phosphorescence bulged  about  the sand grains and  little pebbles; it  held
them  each in a  dimple of  tension, then  suddenly  accepted them  with  an
inaudible syllable and moved on.
     Along the shoreward  edge  of the shallows the  advancing clearness was
full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a
larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered  with  a coat of  pearls.
The tide swelled in  over" the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with
a layer of silver. Now it touched the  first of the stains that  seeped from
the  broken body and the  creatures made a moving  patch  of  light as  they
gathered at the edge. The water rose farther and dressed Simon's coarse hair
with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder
became  sculptured marble. The strange attendant creatures, with their fiery
eyes and  trailing vapors, busied themselves round his head. The body lifted
a fraction of  an inch from the  sand and a  bubble of air escaped  from the
mouth with a wet plop. Then it turned gently in the water.
     Somewhere  over the darkened curve of the  world the  sun and moon were
pulling,  and the film of  water  on  the  earth  planet was  held,  bulging
slightly on one side while the solid core turned. The great wave of the tide
moved farther along the island and the water lifted. Softly, surrounded by a
fringe of inquisitive  bright  creatures, itself a silver shape  beneath the
steadfast constellations, Simon's dead body moved out toward the open sea.





     CHAPTER TEN
     <i>The Shell and the Glasses</i>

     Piggy  eyed the advancing figure carefully. Nowadays he sometimes found
that he saw  more clearly if he removed his glasses and shifted the one lens
to the other eye;  but even through  the good eye, after what had  happened,
Ralph  remained  unmistakably Ralph. He  came  now out of the coconut trees,
limping, dirty, with dead leaves hanging from  his shock of yellow hair. One
eye was a slit in his puffy cheek and a great scab had formed on  his  right
knee. He paused for a moment and peered at the figure on the platform.
     "Piggy? Are you the only one left?"
     "There's some littluns."
     "They don't count. No biguns?"
     "Oh-Samneric. They're collecting wood."
     "Nobody else?"
     "Not that I know of."
     Ralph climbed on  to the platform carefully. The coarse grass was still
worn away  where  the assembly used to sit;  the fragile  white conch  still
gleamed by the polished seat Ralph  sat down  in the grass facing the chiefs
seat and the conch. Piggy knelt at his left, and for a long minute there was
silence.
     At last Ralph cleared his throat and whispered something.
     Piggy whispered back.
     "What you say?"
     Ralph spoke up.
     "Simon."
     Piggy said nothing but nodded, solemnly. They  continued to sit, gazing
with impaired sight at the chief's seat and the glittering lagoon. The green
light and the glossy patches of sunshine played over their befouled bodies.
     At  length Ralph got  up and went  to  the  conch.  He took  the  shell
caressingly with both hands and knelt, leaning against the trunk.
     "Piggy"
     "Uh?"
     "What we going to do?"
     Piggy nodded at the conch.
     "You could-"
     "Call an assembly?"
     Ralph laughed sharply as he said the word and Piggy frowned.
     "You're still chief."
     Ralph laughed again.
     "You are. Over us."
     "I got the conch."
     "Ralph! Stop laughing  like  that. Look,  there  ain't no need,  Ralph!
What's the others going to think?"
     At last Ralph stopped. He was shivering.
     "Piggy-"
     "Uh?"
     "That was Simon." "You said that before."
     "Piggy-"
     "Uh?"
     "That was murder."
     "You stop  it!" said Piggy,  shrilly.  "What good're you doing  talking
like that?"
     He jumped to his feet and stood over Ralph.
     "It was dark. There was that-that bloody dance. There was lightning and
thunder and rain. We was scared!"
     "I wasn't scared," said Ralph slowly, "I was-I don't know what I was."
     "We was  scared!"  said Piggy excitedly. "Anything might have happened.
It wasn't-what you said."
     He was gesticulating, searching for a formula.
     "Oh, Piggy!"
     Ralph's voice, low and stricken, stopped Piggy's gestures. He bent down
and waited. Ralph, cradling the conch, rocked himself to and fro.
     "Don't you understand, Piggy? The things we did-"
     "He may still be-"
     "No."
     "P'raps he was only pretending-"
     Piggy's voice trailed off at the sight of Ralph's face.
     "You were outside. Outside the circle. You never really came in. Didn't
you see what we-what they did?"
     There was loathing, and at the same time a kind of feverish excitement,
in his voice.
     "Didn't you see, Piggy?"
     "Not all  that well. I only  got one eye  now. You ought to know  that,
Ralph."
     Ralph continued to rock to and fro.
     "It was an  accident,"  said Piggy  suddenly,  "that's what it  was. An
accident." His  voice  shrilled  again.  "Coming  in the  dark-he hadn't  no
business crawling like that out of the dark. He was batty. He asked for  it.
He gesticulated widely again. "It was an accident."
     "You didn't see what they did-"
     "Look, Ralph. We got to forget this. We can't do no good thinking about
it, see?"
     "I'm frightened. Of us. I want to go home. Oh God, I want to go home."
     "It was an accident," said Piggy stubbornly, "and that's that."
     He  touched Ralph's bare shoulder and  Ralph  shuddered  at  the  human
contact.
     "And look, Ralph"-Piggy glanced round quickly, then leaned close-"don't
let on we was in that dance. Not to Samneric."
     "But we were! All of us!"
     Piggy shook his head.
     "Not  us till last. They never noticed in the  dark.  Anyway you said I
was only on the outside."
     "So was I," muttered Ralph, "I was on the outside too."
     Piggy nodded eagerly.
     "That's right. We  was on the outside. We never done  nothing, we never
seen nothing."
     Piggy paused, then went on.
     "We'll live on our own, the four of us-"
     "Four of us. We aren't enough to keep the fire burning."
     "We'll try. See? I lit it."
     Samneric came dragging a great log out of the forest. They dumped it by
the fire and turned to the pool. Ralph jumped to his feet.
     "Hi! You two!"
     The twins checked a moment, then walked on.
     "They're going to bathe, Ralph."
     "Better get it over."
     The twins were very  surprised to  see Ralph. They flushed  and  looked
past him into the air.
     "Hullo. Fancy meeting you, Ralph."
     "We just been in the forest--"
     "-to get wood for the fire-"
     "-we got lost last night."
     Ralph examined his toes.
     "You got lost after the . . ."
     Piggy cleaned his lens.
     "After the  feast," said  Sam  in a  stifled voice. Eric nodded.  "Yes,
after the feast."
     "We left early," said Piggy quickly, "because we were tired."
     "So did we-"
     "-very early-"
     "-we were very tired."
     Sam touched a scratch on  his forehead and then hurriedly took his hand
away. Eric fingered his split lip.
     "Yes. We were  very  tired," repeated Sam, "so  we left early. Was it a
good-"
     The air was  heavy with unspoken knowledge. Sam twisted and the obscene
word shot out of him. "-dance?"
     Memory  of the dance that none of them had attended shook all tour boys
convulsively.
     "We left early."

     When  Roger came to the neck of land that joined the Castle Rock to the
mainland he was not surprised to be challenged. He had  reckoned, during the
terrible night,  on finding at least some of the tribe holding  out  against
the horrors of the island in the safest place.
     The voice rang  out sharply from on high, where  the  diminishing crags
were balanced one on another.
     "Halt! Who goes there?"
     "Roger."
     "Advance, friend."
     Roger advanced.
     "The chief said we got to challenge everyone."
     Roger peered up.
     "You couldn't stop me coming if I wanted."
     "Couldn't I? Climb up and see."
     Roger clambered up the ladder-like cliff.
     "Look at this."
     A log  had been  jammed under the topmost rock and another lever  under
that. Robert leaned lightly on the lever and the rock groaned. A full effort
would send the rock thundering down to the neck of land. Roger admired.
     "He's a proper chief, isn't he?"
     Robert nodded.
     "He's going to take us hunting."
     He jerked his  head  in  the direction of  the distant shelters where a
thread of white smoke climbed up the sky. Roger, sitting on the very edge of
the cliff, looked somberly back at the island as he worked with his  fingers
at  a loose tooth. His gaze settled on  the top of the  distant mountain and
Robert changed the unspoken subject.
     "He's going to beat Wilfred."
     "What for?"
     Robert shook his head doubtfully.
     "I don't know. He didn't say. He got angry and made us tie Wilfred  up.
He's been"-he giggled excitedly- "he's been tied for hours, waiting-"
     "But didn't the chief say why?'
     "I never heard him."
     Sitting on the tremendous rocks in the torrid  sun, Roger received this
news  as  an illumination.  He ceased to  work at his tooth  and  sat still,
assimilating  the  possibilities  of irresponsible authority. Then,  without
another word, he climbed down the back of the rocks  toward the cave and the
rest of the tribe.
     The  chief was sitting  there, naked to the waist, his face blocked out
in white and red. The tribe lay in a semicircle before him. The newly beaten
and untied Wilfred  was  sniffing noisily in  the background. Roger squatted
with the rest.
     "Tomorrow," went on the chief, "we shall hunt again."
     He pointed at this savage and that with his spear.
     "Some of you will stay here  to improve the cave and defend the gate. I
shall take a few  hunters with me and bring  back meat. The defenders of the
gate will see that the others don't sneak in."
     A savage raised  his hand  and the  chief turned a  bleak, painted face
toward him.
     "Why should they try to sneak in, Chief?"
     The chief was vague but earnest.
     "They  will. They'll try to spoil things we  do. So the watchers at the
gate must be careful. And then-"
     The chief paused. They saw a triangle of  startling pink dart out, pass
along his lips and vanish again.
     "-and then,  the  beast might try  to  come  in.  You remember  how  he
crawled-"
     The semicircle shuddered and muttered in agreement.
     "He came-disguised. He may  come again even though we gave him the head
of our kill to eat. So watch; and be careful."
     Stanley lifted  his forearm off the rock and held  up an  interrogative
finger.
     "Well?"
     "But didn't we, didn't we-?"
     He squirmed and looked down.
     "No!"
     In the  silence  that followed,  each  savage  flinched away  from  his
individual memory.
     "No! How could we-kill-it?"
     Half-relieved, half-daunted  by the implication of further terrors, the
savages murmured again.
     "So  leave the mountain alone," said the  chief, solemnly, "and give it
the head if you go hunting."
     Stanley flicked his finger again.
     "I expect the beast disguised itself.<i>"</i>
     "Perhaps," said the chief. A theological speculation  presented itself.
"We'd  better keep  on the right side of him, anyhow. You can't tell what he
might do."
     The tribe  considered this; and then were shaken,  as if  by a flaw  of
wind. The chief saw the effect of his words and stood abruptly.
     "But tomorrow we'll hunt and when we've got meat we'll have a feast-"
     Bill put up his hand.
     "Yes?"'
     "What'll we use for lighting the fire?"
     The chiefs  blush was  hidden by  the  white  and  red  clay  Into  his
uncertain  silence the tribe spilled their murmur once more. Then the  chief
held up his hand.
     "We shall take fire from the others. Listen. Tomorrow well hunt and get
meat. Tonight Ill go along with two hunters-who'll come?"
     Maurice and Roger put up their hands.
     "Maurice-"
     "Yes, Chief?"
     "Where was their fire?"
     "Back at the old place by the fire rock."
     The chief nodded.
     "The rest of you can go to sleep as soon as the sun sets. But us three,
Maurice, Roger  and  me,  we've  got  work to  do. We'll leave  just  before
sunset-"
     Maurice put up his hand.
     "But what happens if we meet-"
     The chief waved his objection aside.
     "We'll keep along by the sands. Then if he comes well do our, our dance
again."
     "Only the three of us?"
     Again the murmur swelled and died away.

     Piggy handed  Ralph his glasses and waited to  receive back his  sight.
The wood was damp; and this  was the  third time they  had lighted it  Ralph
stood back, speaking to himself.
     "We don't want another night without fire."
     He looked  round guiltily at  the three boys standing by. This  was the
first  time he had admitted  the  double function of the fire. Certainly one
was to send up a beckoning column of smoke; but the other was to be a hearth
now and a comfort until they slept. Eric breathed on the wood till it glowed
and  sent out a little flame. A billow of  white and yellow smoke reeked up.
Piggy took back his glasses and looked at the smoke with pleasure.
     "If only we could make a radio!"
     "Or a plane-"
     "-or a boat."
     Ralph dredged in his fading knowledge of the world.
     "We might get taken prisoner by the Reds."
     Eric pushed back his hair.
     "They'd be better than-"
     He would not  name people and Sam  finished the  sentence  for  him  by
nodding along the beach.
     Ralph remembered the ungainly figure on a parachute.
     "He said something about  a dead man."  He  flushed painfully  at  this
admission that he had been present at  the dance.  He made urging motions at
the smoke with his body. "Don't stop-go on up!"
     "Smoke's getting thinner."
     "We need more wood already, even when it's wet."
     "My asthma-"
     The response was mechanical.
     "Sucks to your ass-mar."
     "If I pull logs about, I get my asthma bad. I wish I didn't, Ralph, but
there it is."
     The three boys went into the forest and fetched armfuls of rotten wood.
Once more the smoke rose, yellow and thick.
     "Let's get something to eat."
     Together they went to the fruit  trees, carrying  their  spears, saying
little,  cramming in haste. When  they came out of the forest again the  sun
was setting and only embers glowed in the fire, and there was no smoke.
     "I can't carry any more wood," said Eric. "I'm tired."
     Ralph cleared his throat.
     "We kept the fire going up there."
     "Up there it was small. But this has got to be a big one."
     Ralph carried a fragment to the fire and watched the smoke that drifted
into the dusk.
     ''We've got to keep it going."
     Eric flung himself down.
     "I'm too tired. And what's the good?"
     "Eric!" cried Ralph in a shocked voice. "Don't talk like that!"
     Sam knelt by Eric.
     "Well-what <i>is</i> the good?"
     Ralph tried  indignantly to remember. There was something good about  a
fire. Something overwhelmingly good.
     "Ralph's told  you often enough," said Piggy moodily.  "How else are we
going to be rescued?"
     "Of course! If we don't make smoke-"
     He squatted before them in the crowding dusk.
     "Don't  you understand? What's  the  good  of  wishing for  radios  and
boats?"
     He held out his hand and twisted the fingers into a fist
     "There's only one thing  we can do to get out of this mess.  Anyone can
play at hunting, anyone can get us meat-"
     He looked from  face  to face. Then,  at the moment of greatest passion
and conviction, that curtain flapped in his head and he  forgot  what he had
been driving at. He knelt there, his fist clenched, gazing solemnly from one
to the other. Then the curtain whisked back.
     "Oh, yes. So we've got to make smoke; and more smoke-"
     "But we can't keep it going! Look at that!"
     The fire was dying on them.
     "Two to  mind the  fire," said  Ralph,  half to himself, "that's twelve
hours a day."
     "We can't get any more wood, Ralph-"
     "-not in the dark-"
     "-not at night-"
     "We can light it every morning," said Piggy. "Nobody ain't going to see
smoke in the dark.'
     Sam nodded vigorously.
     "It was different when the fire was-"
     "-up there."
     Ralph  stood  up,  feeling  curiously  defenseless  with  the  darkness
pressing in.
     "Let the fire go then, for tonight."
     He  led  the  way  to  the  first shelter,  which still  stood,  though
battered. The bed leaves lay within, dry and noisy to the touch. In the next
shelter  a  littlun was talking in his sleep. The four biguns crept into the
shelter and burrowed under  the l