Lord of the Flies - William Golding [35]
"Blow the conch, Ralph."
Piggy was so close that Ralph could see the glint of his one glass.
"There's the fire. Can't they see?"
"You got to be tough now. Make 'em do what you want."
Ralph answered in the cautious voice of one who rehearses a theorem.
"If I blow the conch and they don't come back; then we've had it. We shan't keep the fire going. We'll be like animals. We'll never be rescued."
"If you don't blow, we'll soon be animals anyway. I can't see what they're doing but I can hear."
The dispersed figures had come together on the sand and were a dense black mass that revolved. They were chanting something and littluns that had had enough were staggering away, howling. Ralph raised the conch to his lips and then lowered it.
"The trouble is: Are there ghosts, Piggy? Or beasts?"
"Course there aren't."
"Why not?"
"'Cos things wouldn't make sense. Houses an' streets, an'―TV―they wouldn't work."
The dancing, chanting boys had worked themselves away till their sound was nothing but a wordless rhythm.
"But s'pose they don't make sense? Not here, on this island? Supposing things are watching us and waiting?"
Ralph shuddered violently and moved closer to Piggy, so that they bumped frighteningly.
"You stop talking like that! We got enough trouble, Ralph, an' I've had as much as I can stand. If there is ghosts―'
"I ought to give up being chief. Hear 'em."
"Oh lord! Oh no!"
Piggy gripped Ralph's arm.
"If Jack was chief he'd have all hunting and no fire. We'd be here till we died."
His voice ran up to a squeak.
"Who's that sitting there?"
"Me. Simon."
"Fat lot of good we are," said Ralph. "Three blind mice. I'll give up."
"If you give up," said Piggy, in an appalled whisper, "what 'ud happen to me?"
"Nothing."
"He hates me. I dunno why. If he could do what he wanted―you're all right, he respects you. Besides―you'd hit him."
"You were having a nice fight with him just now."
"I had the conch," said Piggy simply. "I had a right to speak."
Simon stirred in the dark.
"Go on being chief."
"You shut up, young Simon! Why couldn't you say there wasn't a beast?"
"I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breathe. I tell you what. He hates you too, Ralph―"
"Me? Why me?"
"I dunno. You got him over the fire; an' you're chief an' he isn't."
"But he's, he's, Jack Merridew!"
"I been in bed so much I done some thinking. I know about people. I know about me. And him. He can't hurt you: but if you stand out of the way he'd hurt the next thing. And that's me."
"Piggy's right, Ralph. There's you and Jack. Go on being chief."
"We're all drifting and things are going rotten. At home there was always a grownup. Please, sir, please, miss; and then you got an answer. How I wish!"
"I wish my auntie was here."
"I wish my father... Oh, what's the use?"
"Keep the fire going."
The dance was over and the hunters were going back to the shelters.
"Grownups know things," said Piggy. "They ain't afraid of the dark. They'd meet and have tea and discuss. Then things 'ud be all right―"
"They wouldn't set fire to the island. Or lose―"
"They'd build a ship―"
The three boys stood in the darkness, striving unsuccessfully to convey the majesty of adult life.
"They wouldn't quarrel―"
"Or break my specs―"
"Or talk about a beast―"
"If only they could get a message to us," cried Ralph desperately. "If only they could send us something grownup... a sign or something."
A thin wail out of the darkness chilled them and set them grabbing for each other. Then the wail rose, remote and unearthly,' and turned to an inarticulate gibbering. Percival Wemys Madison, of the Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony, lying in the long grass, was living through circumstances in which the incantation of his address was powerless to help him.
CHAPTER SIX
Beast from Air
There was no light left save that of the stars. When they had understood what made this ghostly noise and Percival was quiet again, Ralph and Simon picked him up unhandily and carried him to a shelter. Piggy hung about near for all his brave words, and the three bigger boys went together to the next shelter. They lay restlessly and noisily among the dry leaves, watching the patch of stars that was the opening toward the lagoon. Sometimes a littlun cried out from the other shelters and once a bigun spoke in the dark. Then they too fell asleep.