Lord of the Flies - William Golding [42]
Ralph turned away to the red cliff. They were waiting behind him in the long grass, waiting to see what he would do. He noticed that the sweat in his palm was cool now; realized with surprise that he did not really expect to meet any beast and didn't know what he would do about it if he did.
He saw that he could climb the cliff but this was not necessary. The squareness of the rock allowed a sort of plinth round it, so that to the right, over the lagoon, one could inch along a ledge and turn the corner out of sight. It was easy going, and soon he was peering round the rock.
Nothing but what you might expect: pink, tumbled boulders with guano layered on them like icing; and a steep slope up to the shattered rocks that crowned the bastion.
A sound behind him made him turn. Jack was edging along the ledge.
"Couldn't let you do it on your own."
Ralph said nothing. He led the way over the rocks, inspected a sort of half-cave that held nothing more terrible than a clutch of rotten eggs, and at last sat down, looking round him and tapping the rock with the butt of his spear.
Jack was excited.
"What a place for a fort!"
A column of spray wetted them.
"No fresh water."
"What's that then?"
There was indeed a long green smudge half-way up the rock. They climbed up and tasted the trickle of water.
"You could keep a coconut shell there, filling all the time."
"Not me. This is a rotten place."
Side by side they scaled the last height to where the diminishing pile was crowned by the last broken rock. Jack struck the near one with his fist and it grated slightly.
"Do you remember―?"
Consciousness of the bad times in between came to them both. Jack talked quickly.
"Shove a palm trunk under that and if an enemy came― look!"
A hundred feet below them was the narrow causeway, then the stony ground, then the grass dotted with heads, and behind that the forest.
"One heave," cried Jack, exulting, "and―wheee―!"
He made a sweeping movement with his hand. Ralph looked toward the mountain.
"What's the matter?"
Ralph turned.
"Why?"
"You were looking―I don't know why."
"There's no signal now. Nothing to show."
"You're nuts on the signal."
The taut blue horizon encircled them, broken only by the mountain-top.
"That's all we've got."
He leaned his spear against the rocking stone and pushed back two handfuls of hair.
"We'll have to go back and climb the mountain. That's where they saw the beast."
"The beast won't be there."
"What else can we do?"
The others, waiting in the grass, saw Jack and Ralph unharmed and broke cover into the sunlight. They forgot the beast in the excitement of exploration. They swarmed across the bridge and soon were climbing and shouting. Ralph stood now, one hand against an enormous red block, a block large as a mill wheel that had been split off and hung, tottering. Somberly he watched the mountain. He clenched his fist and beat hammer-wise on the red wall at his right. His lips were tightly compressed and his eyes yearned beneath the fringe of hair.
"Smoke."
He sucked his bruised fist.
"Jack! Come on."
But Jack was not there. A knot of boys, making a great noise that he had not noticed, were heaving and pushing at a rock. As he turned, the base cracked and the whole mass toppled into the sea so that a thunderous plume of spray leapt half-way up the cliff.
"Stop it! Stop it!"
His voice struck a silence among them.
"Smoke."
A strange thing happened in his head. Something flittered there in front of his mind like a bat's wing, obscuring his idea.
"Smoke."
At once the ideas were back, and the anger.
"We want smoke. And you go wasting your time. You roll rocks."
Roger shouted.
"We've got plenty of time!"
Ralph shook his head.
"We'll go to the mountain."
The clamor broke out. Some of the boys wanted to go back to the beach. Some wanted to roll more rocks. The sun was bright and danger had faded with the darkness.
"Jack. The beast might be on the other side. You can lead again.