CHAPTER TWO
Fire on the Mountain
By the time Ralph finished blowing the conch the platform was crowded. There were differences between this meeting and the one held in the morning. The afternoon sun slanted in from the other side of the platform and most of the children, feeling too late the smart of sunburn, had put their clothes on. The choir, less of a group, had discarded their cloaks.
Ralph sat on a fallen trunk, his left side to the sun. On his right were most of the choir; on his left the larger boys who had not known each other before the evacuation; before him small children squatted in the grass.
Silence now. Ralph lifted the cream and pink shell to his knees and a sudden breeze scattered light over the platform. He was uncertain whether to stand up or remain sitting. He looked sideways to his left, toward the bathing pool. Piggy was sitting near but giving no help.
Ralph cleared his throat.
"Well then."
All at once he found he could talk fluently and explain what he had to say. He passed a hand through his fair hair and spoke.
"We're on an island. We've been on the mountain top and seen water all round. We saw no houses, no smoke, no footprints, no boats, no people. We're on an uninhabited island with no other people on it."
Jack broke in.
"All the same you need an army--for hunting. Hunting pigs--"
"Yes. There are pigs on the island."
All three of them tried to convey the sense of the pink live thing struggling in the creepers.
"We saw--"
"Squealing--"
"It broke away--"
"Before I could kill it--but--next time!"
Jack slammed his knife into a trunk and looked round challengingly.
The meeting settled down again.
"So you see," said Ralph, "We need hunters to get us meat. And another thing."
He lifted the shell on his knees and looked round the sun-slashed faces.
"There aren't any grownups. We shall have to look after ourselves."
The meeting hummed and was silent.
"And another thing. We can't have everybody talking at once. We'll have to have 'Hands up' like at school."
He held the conch before his face and glanced round the mouth.
"Then I'll give him the conch."
"Conch?"
"That's what this shell's called. I'll give the conch to the next person to speak. He can hold it when he's speaking."
"But--"
"Look--"
"And he won't be interrupted: Except by me."
Jack was on his feet.
"We'll have rules!" he cried excitedly. "Lots of rules! Then when anyone breaks 'em--"
"Whee--oh!"
"Wacco!"
"Bong!"
"Doink!"
Ralph felt the conch lifted from his lap. Then Piggy was standing cradling the great cream shell and the shouting died down. Jack, left on his feet, looked uncertainly at Ralph who smiled and patted the log. Jack sat down. Piggy took off his glasses and blinked at the assembly while he wiped them on his shirt.
"You're hindering Ralph. You're not letting him get to the most important thing."
He paused effectively.
"Who knows we're here? Eh?"
"They knew at the airport."
"The man with a trumpet-thing--"
"My dad."
Piggy put on his glasses.
"Nobody knows where we are," said Piggy. He was paler than before and breathless. "Perhaps they knew where we was going to; and perhaps not. But they don't know where we are 'cos we never got there." He gaped at them for a moment, then swayed and sat down. Ralph took the conch from his hands.
"That's what I was going to say," he went on, "when you all, all. . . ." He gazed at their intent faces. "The plane was shot down in flames. Nobody knows where we are. We may be here a long time."
The silence was so complete that they could hear the unevenness of Piggy's breathing. The sun slanted in and lay golden over half the platform. The breezes that on the lagoon had chased their tails like kittens were finding their way across the platform and into the forest. Ralph pushed back the tangle of fair hair that hung on his forehead.
"So we may be here a long time."
Nobody said anything. He grinned suddenly.
"But this is a good island. We--Jack, Simon and me-- we climbed the mountain. It's wizard. There's food and drink, and--"
"Rocks--"
"Blue flowers--"
Piggy, partly recovered, pointed to the conch in Ralph's hands, and Jack and Simon fell silent. Ralph went on.
"While we're waiting we can have a good time on this island."
He gesticulated widely.
"It's like in a book."
At once there was a clamor.
"Treasure Island--"
"Swallows and Amazons--"
"Coral Island--"
Ralph waved the conch.
"This is our island. It's a good island. Until the grownups come to fetch us we'll have fun."
Jack held out his hand for the conch.
"There's pigs," he said. "There's food; and bathing water in that little stream along there--and everything. Didn't anyone find anything else?"
He handed the conch back to Ralph and sat down. Apparently no one had found anything.
The older boys first noticed the child when he resisted. There was a group of little boys urging him forward and he did not want to go. He was a shrimp of a boy, about six years old, and one side of his face was blotted out by a mulberry-colored birthmark. He stood now, warped out of the perpendicular by the fierce light of publicity, and he bored into the coarse grass with one toe. He was muttering and about to cry.
The other little boys, whispering but serious, pushed him toward Ralph.
"All right," said Ralph, "come on then."
The small boy looked round in panic.
"Speak up!"
The small boy held out his hands for the conch and the assembly shouted with laughter; at once he snatched back his hands and started to cry.
"Let him have the conch!" shouted Piggy. "Let him have it!"
At last Ralph induced him to hold the shell but by then the blow of laughter had taken away the child's voice. Piggy knelt by him, one hand on the great shell, listening and interpreting to the assembly.
"He wants to know what you're going to do about the snake-thing."
Ralph laughed, and the other boys laughed with him. The small boy twisted further into himself.
"Tell us about the snake-thing."
"Now he says it was a beastie."
"Beastie?''
"A snake-thing. Ever so big. He saw it."
"Where?"
"In the woods."
Either the wandering breezes or perhaps the decline of the sun allowed a little coolness to lie under the trees. The boys felt it and stirred restlessly.
"You couldn't have a beastie, a snake-thing, on an island this size," Ralph explained kindly. "You only get them in big countries, like Africa, or India."
Murmur; and the grave nodding of heads.
"He says the beastie came in the dark."
"Then he couldn't see it!"
Laughter and cheers.
"Did you hear that? Says he saw the thing in the dark--"
"He still says he saw the beastie. It came and went away again an' came back and wanted to eat him--"
"He was dreaming."
Laughing, Ralph looked for confirmation round the ring of faces. The older boys agreed; but here and there among the little ones was the doubt that required more than rational assurance.
"He must have had a nightmare. Stumbling about among all those creepers."
More grave nodding; they knew about nightmares. "He says he saw the beastie, the snake-thing, and will it come back tonight?"
"But there isn't a beastie!"
"He says in the morning it turned into them things like ropes in the trees and hung in the branches. He says will it come back tonight?"
"But there isn't a beastie!"
There was no laughter at all now and more grave watching. Ralph pushed both hands through his hair and looked at the little boy in mixed amusement and exasperation.
Jack seized the conch.
"Ralph's right of course. There isn't a snake-thing. But if there was a snake we'd hunt it and kill it. We're going to hunt pigs to get meat for everybody. And we'll look for the snake too--"
"But there isn't a snake!"
"We'll make sure when we go hunting."
Ralph was annoyed and, for the moment, defeated. He felt himself facing something ungraspable. The eyes that looked so intently at him were without humor.
"But there isn't a beast!"
Something he had not known was there rose in him and compelled him to make the point, loudly and again.
"But I tell you there isn't a beast!"
The assembly was silent.
Ralph lifted the conch again and his good humor came back as he thought of what he had to say next.
"Now we come to the most important thing. I've been thinking. I was thinking while we were climbing the mountain." He flashed a conspiratorial grin at the other two. "And on the beach just now. This is what I thought. We want to have fun. And we want to be rescued."
The passionate noise of agreement from the assembly hit him like a wave and he lost his thread. He thought again.
"We want to be rescued; and of course we shall be rescued."
Voices babbled. The simple statement, unbacked by any proof but the weight of Ralph's new authority, brought light and happiness. He had to wave the conch before he could make them hear him.
"My father's in the Navy. He said there aren't any unknown islands left. He says the Queen has a big room full of maps and all the islands in the world are drawn there. So the Queen's got a picture of this island."
Again came the sounds of cheerfulness and better heart.
"And sooner or later a ship will put in here. It might even be Daddy's ship. So you see, sooner or later, we shall be rescued."
He paused, with the point made. The assembly was lifted toward safety by his words. They liked and now respected him. Spontaneously they began to clap and presently the platform was loud with applause. Ralph flushed, looking sideways at Piggy's open admiration, and then the other way at Jack who was smirking and showing that he too knew how to clap.
Ralph waved the conch.
"Shut up! Wait! Listen!"
He went on in the silence, borne on his triumph.
"There's another thing. We can help them to find us. If a ship comes near the island they may not notice us. So we must make smoke on top of the mountain. We must make a fire."
"A fire! Make a fire!"
At once half the boys were on their feet. Jack clamored among them, the conch forgotten.
"Come on! Follow me!"
The space under the palm trees was full of noise and movement. Ralph was on his feet too, shouting for quiet, but no one heard him. All at once the crowd swayed toward the island and was gone--following Jack. Even the tiny children went and did their best among the leaves and broken branches. Ralph was left, holding the conch, with no one but Piggy.
Piggy's breathing was quite restored.
"Like kids!" he said scornfully. "Acting like a crowd of kids!"
Ralph looked at him doubtfully and laid the conch on the tree trunk.
"I bet it's gone tea-time," said Piggy. "What do they think they're going to do on that mountain?"
He caressed the shell respectfully, then stopped and looked up.
"Ralph! Hey! Where you going?"
Ralph was already clambering over the first smashed swathes of the scar. A long way ahead of him was crashing and laughter.
Piggy watched him in disgust.
"Like a crowd of kids--"
He sighed, bent, and laced up his shoes. The noise of the errant assembly faded up the mountain. Then, with the martyred expression of a parent who has to keep up with the senseless ebullience of the children, he picked up the conch, turned toward the forest, and began to pick his way over the tumbled scar.
Below the other side of the mountain top was a platform of forest. Once more Ralph found himself making the cupping gesture.
"Down there we could get as much wood as we want."
Jack nodded and pulled at his underlip. Starting perhaps a hundred feet below them on the steeper side of the mountain, the patch might have been designed expressly for fuel. Trees, forced by the damp heat, found too little soil for full growth, fell early and decayed: creepers cradled them, and new saplings searched a way up.
Jack turned to the choir, who stood ready. Their black caps of maintenance were slid over one ear like berets.
"We'll build a pile. Come on."
They found the likeliest path down and began tugging at the dead wood. And the small boys who had reached the top came sliding too till everyone but Piggy was busy. Most of the wood was so rotten that when they pulled, it broke up into a shower of fragments and woodlice and decay; but some trunks came out in one piece. The twins, Sam 'n Eric, were the first to get a likely log but they could do nothing till Ralph, Jack, Simon, Roger and Maurice found room for a hand-hold. Then they inched the grotesque dead thing up the rock and toppled it over on top. Each party of boys added a quota, less or more, and the pile grew. At the return Ralph found himself alone on a limb with Jack and they grinned at each other, sharing this burden. Once more, amid the breeze, the shouting, the slanting sunlight on the high mountain, was shed that glamour, that strange invisible light of friendship, adventure, and content.
"Almost too heavy."
Jack grinned back.
"Not for the two of us."
Together, joined in an effort by the burden, they staggered up the last steep Of the mountain. Together, they chanted One! Two! Three! and crashed the log on to the great pile. Then they stepped back, laughing with triumphant pleasure, so that immediately Ralph had to stand on his head. Below them, boys were still laboring, though some of the small ones had lost interest and were searching this new forest for fruit. Now the twins, with unsuspected intelligence, came up the mountain with armfuls of dried leaves and dumped them against the pile. One by one, as they sensed that the pile was complete, the boys stopped going back for more and stood, with the pink, shattered top of the mountain around them. Breath came evenly by now, and sweat dried.
Ralph and Jack looked at each other while society paused about them. The shameful knowledge grew in them and they did not know how to begin confession.
Ralph spoke first, crimson in the face.
"Will you?"
He cleared his throat and went on.
"Will you light the fire?"
Now the absurd situation was open, Jack blushed too. He began to mutter vaguely.
"You rub two sticks. You rub--"
He glanced at Ralph, who blurted out the last confession of incompetence.
"Has anyone got any matches?"
"You make a bow and spin the arrow," said Roger. He rubbed his hands in mime. "Psss. Psss."
A little air was moving over the mountain. Piggy came with it, in shorts and shirt, laboring cautiously out of the forest with the evening sunlight gleaming from his glasses. He held the conch under his arm.
Ralph shouted at him.
"Piggy! Have you got any matches?"
The other boys took up the cry till the mountain rang. Piggy shook his head and came to the pile.
"My! You've made a big heap, haven't you?"
Jack pointed suddenly.
"His specs--use them as burning glasses!"
Piggy was surrounded before he could back away.
"Here--let me go!" His voice rose to a shriek of terror as Jack snatched the glasses off his face. "Mind out! Give 'em back! I can hardly see! You'll break the conch!"
Ralph elbowed him to ne side and knelt by the pile.
"Stand out of the light."
There was pushing and pulling and officious cries. Ralph moved the lenses back and forth, this way and that, till a glossy white image of the declining sun lay on a piece of rotten wood. Almost at once a thin trickle of smoke rose up and made him cough. Jack knelt too and blew gently, so that the smoke drifted away, thickening, and a tiny flame appeared. The flame, nearly invisible at first in that bright sunlight, enveloped a small twig, grew, was enriched with color and reached up to a branch which exploded with a sharp crack. The flame flapped higher and the boys broke into a cheer.
"My specs!" howled Piggy. "Give me my specs!"
Ralph stood away from the pile and put the glasses into Piggy's groping hands. His voice subsided to a mutter.
"Jus' blurs, that's all. Hardly see my hand--"
The boys were dancing. The pile was so rotten, and now so tinder-dry, that whole limbs yielded passionately to the yellow flames that poured upwards and shook a great beard of flame twenty feet in the air. For yards round the fire the heat was like a blow, and the breeze was a river of sparks. Trunks crumbled to white dust.
Ralph shouted.
"More wood! All of you get more wood!"
Life became a race with the fire and the boys scattered through the upper forest. To keep a clean flag of flame flying on the mountain was the immediate end and no one looked further. Even the smallest boys, unless fruit claimed them, brought little pieces of wood and threw them in. The air moved a little faster and became a light wind, so that leeward and windward side were clearly differentiated. On one side the air was cool, but on the other the fire thrust out a savage arm of heat that crinkled hair on the instant. Boys who felt the evening wind on their damp faces paused to enjoy the freshness of it and then found they were exhausted. They flung themselves down in the shadows that lay among the shattered rocks. The beard of flame diminished quickly; then the pile fell inwards with a soft, cindery sound, and sent a great tree of sparks upwards that leaned away and drifted downwind. The boys lay, panting like dogs.
Ralph raised his head off his forearms.
"That was no good."
Roger spat efficiently into the hot dust.
"What d'you mean?"
"There wasn't any smoke. Only flame."
Piggy had settled himself in a space between two rocks, and sat with the conch on his knees.
"We haven't made a fire," he said, "what's any use. We couldn't keep a fire like that going, not if we tried."
"A fat lot you tried," said Jack contemptuously. "You just sat."
"We used his specs," said Simon, smearing a black cheek with his forearm. "He helped that way."
"I got the conch," said Piggy indignantly. "You let me speak!"
"The conch doesn't count on top of the mountain," said Jack, "so you shut up."
"I got the conch in my hand."
"Put on green branches," said Maurice. "That's the best way to make smoke."
"I got the conch--"
Jack turned fiercely.
"You shut up!"
Piggy wilted. Ralph took the conch from him and looked round the circle of boys.
"We've got to have special people for looking after the fire. Any day there may be a ship out there"--he waved his arm at the taut wire of the horizon--"and if we have a signal going they'll come and take us off. And another thing. We ought to have more rules. Where the conch is, that's a meeting. The same up here as