William Golding - Lord of the Flies

They passed the place where the tribe had danced. The charred sticks still lay on the rocks where the rain had quenched them but the sand by the water was smooth again. They passed this in silence. No one doubted that the tribe would be found at the Castle Rock and when they came in sight of it they stopped with one accord. The densest tangle on the island, a mass of twisted stems, black and green and impenetrable, lay on their left and tall grass swayed before them. Now Ralph went forward.

Here was the crushed grass where they had all lain when he had gone to prospect. There was the neck of land, the ledge skirting the rock, up there were the red pinnacles.

Sam touched his arm.

“Smoke.”

There was a tiny smudge of smoke wavering into the air on the other side of the rock.

“Some fire—I don’t think.”

Ralph turned.

“What are we hiding for?”

He stepped through the screen of grass on to the little open space that led to the narrow neck.

“You two follow behind. I’ll go first, then Piggy a pace behind me. Keep your spears ready.”

Piggy peered anxiously into the luminous veil that hung between him and the world.

“Is it safe? Ain’t there a cliff? I can hear the sea.”

“You keep right close to me.”

Ralph moved forward on to the neck. He kicked a stone and it bounded into the water. Then the sea sucked down, revealing a red, weedy square forty feet beneath Ralph’s left arm.

“Am I safe?” quavered Piggy. “I feel awful—”

High above them from the pinnacles came a sudden shout and then an imitation war-cry that was answered by a dozen voices from behind the rock.

“Give me the conch and stay still.”

“Halt! Who goes there?”

Ralph bent back his head and glimpsed Roger’s dark face at the top.

“You can see who I am!” he shouted. “Stop being silly!”

He put the conch to his lips and began to blow. Savages appeared, painted out of recognition, edging round the ledge toward the neck. They carried spears and disposed themselves to defend the entrance. Ralph went on blowing and ignored Piggy’s terrors.

Roger was shouting.

“You mind out—see?”

At length Ralph took his lips away and paused to get his breath back. His first words were a gasp, but audible.

“—calling an assembly.”

The savages guarding the neck muttered among themselves but made no motion. Ralph walked forwards a couple of steps. A voice whispered urgently behind him.

“Don’t leave me, Ralph.”

“You kneel down,” said Ralph sideways, “and wait till I come back.”

He stood halfway along the neck and gazed at the savages intently. Freed by the paint, they had tied their hair back and were more comfortable than he was. Ralph made a resolution to tie his own back afterwards. Indeed he felt Eke telling them to wait and doing it there and then; but that was impossible. The savages sniggered a bit and one gestured at Ralph with his spear. High above, Roger took his hands off the lever and leaned out to see what was going on. The boys on the neck stood in a pool of their own shadow, diminished to shaggy heads. Piggy crouched, his back shapeless as a sack.

“I’m calling an assembly.”

Silence.

Roger took up a small stone and flung it between the twins, aiming to miss. They started and Sam only just kept his footing. Some source of power began to pulse in Roger’s body.

Ralph spoke again, loudly.

“I’m calling an assembly.”

He ran his eye over them.

“Where’s Jack?”

The group of boys stirred and consulted. A painted face spoke with the voice of Robert.

“He’s hunting. And he said we weren’t to let you in.”

“I’ve come to see about the fire,” said Ralph, “and about Piggy’s specs.”

The group in front of him shifted and laughter shivered outwards from among them, light, excited laughter that went echoing among the tall rocks.

A voice spoke from behind Ralph.

“What do you want?”

The twins made a bolt past Ralph and got between him and the entry. He turned quickly. Jack, identifiable by personality and red hair, was advancing from the forest A hunter crouched on either side. All three were masked in black and green. Behind them on the grass the headless and paunched body of a sow lay where they had dropped it.

Piggy wailed.

“Ralph! Don’t leave me!”

With ludicrous care he embraced the rock, pressing himself to it above the sucking sea. The sniggering of the savages became a loud derisive jeer.

Jack shouted above the noise.

“You go away, Ralph. You keep to your end. This is my end and my tribe. You leave me alone.”

The jeering died away.

“You pinched Piggy’s specs,” said Ralph, breathlessly. “You’ve got to give them back.”

“Got to? Who says?”

Ralph’s temper blazed out.

“I say! You voted for me for chief. Didn’t you hear the conch? You played a dirty trick—we’d have given you fire if you’d asked for it—”

The blood was flowing in his cheeks and the bunged-up eye throbbed.

“You could have had fire whenever you wanted. But you didn’t. You came sneaking up like a thief and stole Piggy’s glasses!”

“Say that again!”

“Thief! Thief!”

Piggy screamed.

“Ralph! Mind me!”

Jack made a rush and stabbed at Ralph’s chest with his spear. Ralph sensed the position of the weapon from the glimpse he caught of Jack’s arm and put the thrust aside with his own butt. Then he brought the end round and caught Jack a stinger across the ear. They were chest to chest, breathing fiercely, pushing and glaring.

“Who’s a thief?”

“You are!”

Jack wrenched free and swung at Ralph with his spear. By common consent they were using the spears as sabers now, no longer daring the lethal points. The blow struck Ralph’s spear and slid down, to fall agonizingly on his fingers. Then they were apart once more, their positions reversed, Jack toward the Castle Rock and Ralph on the outside toward the island.

Both boys were breathing very heavily.

“Come on then—”

“Come on—”

Truculently they squared up to each other but kept just out of fighting distance.

“You come on and see what you get!”

“You come on—”

Piggy clutching the ground was trying to attract Ralph’s attention. Ralph moved, bent down, kept a wary eye on Jack.

“Ralph—remember what we came for. The fire. My specs.”

Ralph nodded. He relaxed his fighting muscles, stood easily and grounded the butt of his spear Jack watched him inscrutably through his paint. Ralph glanced up at the pinnacles, then toward the group of savages

“Listen. We’ve come to say this. First you’ve got to give back Piggy’s specs. If he hasn’t got them he can’t see You aren’t playing the game—”

The tribe of painted savages giggled and Ralph’s mind faltered. He pushed his hair up and gazed at the green and black mask before him, trying to remember what Jack looked like.

Piggy whispered.

“And the fire.”

“Oh yes. Then about the fire. I say this again. I’ve been saying it ever since we dropped in.”

He held out his spear and pointed at the savages.

“Your only hope is keeping a signal fire going as long as there’s light to see. Then maybe a ship’ll notice the smoke and come and rescue us and take us home. But without that smoke we’ve got to wait till some ship comes by accident. We might wait years; till we were old—”

The shivering, silvery, unreal laughter of the savages sprayed out and echoed away. A gust of rage shook Ralph His voice cracked.

“Don’t you understand, you painted fools? Sam, Eric, Piggy and me—we aren’t enough. We tried to keep the fire going, but we couldn’t. And then you, playing at hunting…”