Lord of the Flies - William Golding [62]
"―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."
"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 flow 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.
"Chief."
"Yes?"
"What'll we use for lighting the fire?"
The chief's 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 we'll hunt and get meat. Tonight I'll 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 we'll 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 and 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, 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.