Lord of the Flies - William Golding [69]
"We could find some stuff," said Piggy, "and tie your hair back."
"Like a girl!"
"No. 'Course not."
"Then we must go as we are," said Ralph, "and they won't be any better."
Eric made a detaining gesture.
"But they'll be painted! You know how it is." The others nodded. They understood only too well the liberation into savagery that the concealing paint brought.
"Well, we won't be painted," said Ralph, "because we aren't savages."
Samneric looked at each other.
"All the same―"
Ralph shouted.
"No paint!"
He tried to remember.
"Smoke," he said, "we want smoke."
He turned on the twins fiercely.
"I said 'smoke'! We've got to have smoke."
There was silence, except for the multitudinous murmur of the bees. As last Piggy spoke, kindly.
" 'Course we have. 'Cos the smoke's a signal and we can't be rescued if we don't have smoke."
"I knew that!" shouted Ralph. He pulled his arm away from Piggy. "Are you suggesting- -?"
"I'm jus' saying what you always say," said Piggy hastily. "I'd thought for a moment―"
"I hadn't," said Ralph loudly. "I knew it all the time. I hadn't forgotten."
Piggy nodded propitiatingly.
"You're chief, Ralph. You remember everything."
"I hadn't forgotten."
" 'Course not."
The twins were examining Ralph curiously, as though they were seeing him for the first time.
They set off along the beach in formation. Ralph went first, limping a little, his spear carried over one shoulder. He saw things partially, through the tremble of the heat haze over the flashing sands, and his own long hair and injuries. Behind him came the twins, worried now for a while but full of unquenchable vitality. They said little but trailed the butts of their wooden spears; for Piggy had found that, by looking down and shielding his tired sight from the sun, he could just see these moving along the sand. He walked between the trailing butts, therefore, the conch held carefully between his two hands. The boys made a compact little group that moved over the beach, four plate-like shadows dancing and mingling beneath them. There was no sign left of the storm, and the beach was swept clean like a blade that has been scoured. The sky and the mountain were at an immense distance, shimmering in the heat; and the reef was lifted by mirage, floating in a kind of silver pool halfway up the sky.
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