Lord of the Flies (14 page)

           
"You want a real pig," said Robert, still caressing his rump, "because you've got to kill him."

           
"Use a littlun," said Jack, and everybody laughed.

           
Ralph sat up.

           
"Well. We shan't find what we're looking for at this rate."

           
One by one they stood up, twitching rags into place.

           
Ralph looked at Jack.

           
"Now for the mountain."

           
"Shouldn't we go back to Piggy," said Maurice, "before dark?"

           
The twins nodded like one boy.

           
"Yes, that's right. Let's go up there in the morning."

           
Ralph looked out and saw the sea.

           
"We've got to start the fire again."

           
"You haven't got Piggy's specs," said Jack, "so you can't.''

           
"Then we'll find out if the mountain's clear."

           
Maurice spoke, hesitating, not wanting to seem a funk.

           
"Supposing the beast's up there?"

           
Jack brandished his spear.

           
"We'll kill it."

           
The sun seemed a little cooler. He slashed with the spear.

           
"What are we waiting for?"

           
"I suppose," said Ralph, "if we keep on by the sea this way, we'll come out below the burnt bit and then we can climb the mountain.

           
Once more Jack led them along by the suck and heave of the blinding sea.

           
Once more Ralph dreamed, letting his skillful feet deal with the difficulties of the path. Yet here his feet seemed less skillful than before. For most of the way they were forced right down to the bare rock by the water and had to edge along between that and the dark luxuriance of the forest. There were little cliffs to be scaled, some to be used as paths, lengthy traverses where one used hands as well as feet. Here and there they could clamber over wave-wet rock, leaping across clear pools that the tide had left. They came to a gully that split the narrow foreshore like a defense. This seemed to have no bottom and they peered awe-stricken into the gloomy crack where water gurgled. Then the wave came back, the gully boiled before them and spray dashed up to the very creeper so that the boys were wet and shrieking. They tried the forest but it was thick and woven like a bird's nest. In the end they had to jump one by one, waiting till the water sank; and even so, some of them got a second drenching. After that the rocks seemed to be growing impassable so they sat for a time, letting their rags dry and watching the clipped outlines of the rollers that moved so slowly past the island. They found fruit in a haunt of bright little birds that hovered like insects. Then Ralph said they were going too slowly. He himself climbed a tree and parted the canopy, and saw the square head of the mountain seeming still a great way off. Then they tried to hurry along the rocks and Robert cut his knee quite badly and they had to recognize that this path must be taken slowly if they were to be safe. So they proceeded after that as if they were climbing a dangerous mountain, until the rocks became an uncompromising cliff, overhung with impossible jungle and falling sheer into the sea.

           
Ralph looked at the sun critically.

           
"Early evening. After tea-time, at any rate."

           
"I don't remember this cliff," said Jack, crestfallen, "so this must be the bit of the coast I missed."

           
Ralph nodded.

           
"Let me think."

           
By now, Ralph had no self-consciousness in public thinking but would treat the day's decisions as though he were playing chess. The only trouble was that he would never be a very good chess player. He thought of the littluns and Piggy. Vividly he imagined Piggy by himself, huddled in a shelter that was silent except for the sounds of nightmare.

           
"We can't leave the littluns alone with Piggy. Not all night."

           
The other boys said nothing but stood round, watching him.

           
"If we went back we should take hours."

           
Jack cleared his throat and spoke in a queer, tight voice. "We mustn't let anything happen to Piggy, must we?" Ralph tapped his teeth with the dirty point of Eric's spear.

           
"If we go across--"

           
He glanced round him.

           
"Someone's got to go across the island and tell Piggy we'll be back after dark."

           
Bill spoke, unbelieving.

           
"Through the forest by himself? Now?"

           
"We can't spare more than one."

           
Simon pushed his way to Ralph's elbow.

           
"I'll go if you like. I don't mind, honestly."

           
Before Ralph had time to reply, he smiled quickly, turned and climbed into the forest.

           
Ralph looked back at Jack, seeing him, infuriatingly, for the first time.

           
"Jack--that time you went the whole way to the castle rock."

           
Jack glowered.

           
"Yes?"

           
"You came along part of this shore--below the mountain, beyond there."

           
"Yes."

           
"And then?"

           
"I found a pig-run. It went for miles."

           
"So the pig-run must be somewhere in there."

           
Ralph nodded. He pointed at the forest.

           
Everybody agreed, sagely.

           
"All right then. We'll smash a way through till we find the pig-run."

           
He took a step and halted.

           
"Wait a minute though! Where does the pig-run go to?"

           
"The mountain," said Jack, "I told you." He sneered. "Don't you want to go to the mountain?"

           
Ralph sighed, sensing the rising antagonism, understanding that this was how Jack felt as soon as he ceased to lead.

           
"I was thinking of the light. We'll be stumbling about."

           
"We were going to look for the beast."

           
"There won't be enough light."

           
"I don't mind going," said Jack hotly. "I'll go when we get there. Won't you? Would you rather go back to the shelters and tell Piggy?"

           
Now it was Ralph's turn to flush but he spoke despairingly, out of the new understanding that Piggy had given him.

           
"Why do you hate me?"

           
The boys stirred uneasily, as though something indecent had been said. The silence lengthened.

           
Ralph, still hot and hurt, turned away first.

           
"Come on."

           
He led the way and set himself as by right to hack at the tangles. Jack brought up the rear, displaced and brooding.

           
The pig-track was a dark tunnel, for the sun was sliding quickly toward the edge of the world and in the forest shadows were never far to seek. The track was broad and beaten and they ran along at a swift trot. Then the roof of leaves broke up and they halted, breathing quickly, looking at the few stars that pricked round the head of the mountain.

           
"There you are."

           
The boys peered at each other doubtfully. Ralph made a decision.

           
"We'll go straight across to the platform and climb tomorrow."

           
They murmured agreement; but Jack was standing by his shoulder.

           
"If you're frightened of course--"

           
Ralph turned on him.

           
"Who went first on the castle rock?"

           
"I went too. And that was daylight."

           
"All right. Who wants to climb the mountain now?" Silence was the only answer.

           
"Samneric? What about you?"

           
"We ought to go an' tell Piggy--"

           
"--yes, tell Piggy that--"

           
"But Simon went!"

           
"We ought to tell Piggy--in case--"

           
"Robert? Bill?"

           
They were going straight back to the platform now. Not, of course, that they were afraid--but tired.

           
Ralph turned back to Jack.

           
"You see?"

           
"I'm going up the mountain." The words came from Jack viciously, as though they were a curse. He looked at Ralph, his thin body tensed, his spear held as if he threatened him.

           
"I'm going up the mountain to look for the beast--now." Then the supreme sting, the casual, bitter word. "Coming?"

           
At that word the other boys forgot their urge to be gone and turned back to sample this fresh rub of two spirits in the dark. The word was too good, too bitter, too successfully daunting to be repeated. It took Ralph at low water when his nerve was relaxed for the return to the shelter and the still, friendly waters of the lagoon.

           
"I don't mind."

           
Astonished, he heard his voice come out, cool and casual, so that the bitterness of Jack's taunt fell powerless.

           
"If you don't mind, of course."

           
"Oh, not at all."

           
Jack took a step.

           
"Well then--"

           
Side by side, watched by silent boys, the two started up the mountain.

           
Ralph stopped.

           
"We're silly. Why should only two go? If we find anything, two won't be enough."

           
There came the sound of boys scuttling away. Astonishingly, a dark figure moved against the tide.

           
"Roger?"

           
"Yes."

           
"That's three, then."

           
Once more they set out to climb the slope of the mountain. The darkness seemed to flow round them like a tide. Jack, who had said nothing, began to choke and cough, and a gust of wind set all three spluttering. Ralph's eyes were blinded with tears.

           
"Ashes. We're on the edge of the burnt patch."

           
Their footsteps and the occasional breeze were stirring up small devils of dust. Now that they stopped again, Ralph had time while he coughed to remember how silly they were. If there was no beast--and almost certainly there was no beast--in that case, well and good; but if there was something waiting on top of the mountain-- what was the use of three of them, handicapped by the darkness and carrying only sticks?

           
"We're being fools."

           
Out of the darkness came the answer.

           
"Windy?"

           
Irritably Ralph shook himself. This was all Jack's fault.

           
"'Course I am. But we're still being fools."

           
"If you don't want to go on," said the voice sarcastically, "I'll go up by myself."

           
Ralph heard the mockery and hated Jack. The sting of ashes in his eyes, tiredness, fear, enraged him.

           
"Go on then! We'll wait here."

           
There was silence.

           
"Why don't you go? Are you frightened?" A stain in the darkness, a stain that was Jack, detached itself and began to draw away.

           
"All right. So long."

           
The stain vanished. Another took its place.

           
Ralph felt his knee against something hard and rocked a charred trunk that was edgy to the touch. He felt the sharp cinders that had been bark push against the back of his knee and knew that Roger had sat down. He felt with his hands and lowered himself beside Roger, while the trunk rocked among invisible ashes. Roger, uncommunicative by nature, said nothing. He offered no opinion on the beast nor told Ralph why he had chosen to come on this mad expedition. He simply sat and rocked the trunk gently. Ralph noticed a rapid and infuriating tapping noise and realized that Roger was banging his silly wooden stick against something.

           
So they sat, the rocking, tapping, impervious Roger and Ralph, fuming; round them the close sky was loaded with stars, save where the mountain punched up a hole of blackness.

           
There was a slithering noise high above them, the sound of someone taking giant and dangerous strides on rock or ash. Then Jack found them, and was shivering and croaking in a voice they could just recognize as his.

           
"I saw a thing on top."