'All right. Who wants to climb the mountain now?' Silence was the only answer.
'Samneric? What about you?'
'We ought to go an' tell Piggy-'
'-yes, tell Piggy that-'
'But Simon went!'
'We ought to tell Piggy-in case-'
'Robert? Bill?'
They were going straight back to the platform now. Not, of course, that they were afraid-but tired.
Ralph turned back to Jack.
'You see?'
'I'm going up the mountain.' The words came from Jack viciously, as though they were a curse. He looked at Ralph, his thin body tensed, his spear held as if he threatened him.
'I'm going up the mountain to look for the beast-now.' Then the supreme sting, the casual, bitter word. 'Coming?'
At that word the other boys forgot their urge to be gone and turned back to sample this fresh rub of two spirits in the dark. The word was too good, too bitter, too successfully daunting to be repeated. It took Ralph at low water when his nerve was relaxed for the return to the shelter and the still, friendly waters of the lagoon.
'I don't mind.'
Astonished, he heard his voice come out, cool and casual, so that the bitterness of Jack's taunt fell powerless.
'If you don't mind, of course.'
'Oh, not at all.'
Jack took a step.
'Well then-'
Side by side, watched by silent boys, the two started up the mountain.
Ralph stopped.
'We're silly. Why should only two go? If we find anything, two won't be enough.'
There came the sound of boys scuttling away. Astonishingly, a dark figure moved against the tide.
'Roger?'
'Yes.'
'That's three, then.'
Once more they set out to climb the slope of the mountain. The darkness seemed to flow round them like a tide. Jack, who had said nothing, began to choke and cough, and a gust of wind set all three spluttering. Ralph's eyes were blinded with tears.
'Ashes. We're on the edge of the burnt patch.'
Their footsteps and the occasional breeze were stirring up small devils of dust. Now that they stopped again, Ralph had time while he coughed to remember how silly they were. If there was no beast-and almost certainly there was no beast-in that case, well and good; but if there was something waiting on top of the mountain– what was the use of three of them, handicapped by the darkness and carrying only sticks?
'We're being fools.'
Out of the darkness came the answer.
'Windy?'
Irritably Ralph shook himself. This was all Jack's fault.
''Course I am. But we're still being fools.'
'If you don't want to go on,' said the voice sarcastically, 'I'll go up by myself.'
Ralph heard the mockery and hated Jack. The sting of ashes in his eyes, tiredness, fear, enraged him.
'Go on then! We'll wait here.'
There was silence.
'Why don't you go? Are you frightened?' A stain in the darkness, a stain that was Jack, detached itself and began to draw away.
'All right. So long.'
The stain vanished. Another took its place.
Ralph felt his knee against something hard and rocked a charred trunk that was edgy to the touch. He felt the sharp cinders that had been bark push against the back of his knee and knew that Roger had sat down. He felt with his hands and lowered himself beside Roger, while the trunk rocked among invisible ashes. Roger, uncommunicative by nature, said nothing. He offered no opinion on the beast nor told Ralph why he had chosen to come on this mad expedition. He simply sat and rocked the trunk gently. Ralph noticed a rapid and infuriating tapping noise and realized that Roger was banging his silly wooden stick against something.
So they sat, the rocking, tapping, impervious Roger and Ralph, fuming; round them the close sky was loaded with stars, save where the mountain punched up a hole of blackness.
There was a slithering noise high above them, the sound of someone taking giant and dangerous strides on rock or ash. Then Jack found them, and was shivering and croaking in a voice they could just recognize as his.
'I saw a thing on top.'
They heard him blunder against the trunk which rocked violently. He lay silent for a moment, then muttered.
'Keep a good lookout. It may be following.'
A shower of ash pattered round them. Jack sat up.
'I saw a thing bulge on the mountain.'
'You only imagined it,' said Ralph shakily, 'because nothing would bulge. Not any sort of creature.'
Roger spoke; they jumped, for they had forgotten him.
'A frog.'
Jack giggled and shuddered.
'Some frog. There was a noise too. A kind of 'plop' noise. Then the thing bulged.'
Ralph surprised himself, not so much by the quality of his voice, which was even, but by the bravado of its intention.
'We'll go and look.'
For the first time since he had first known Jack, Ralph could feel him hesitate.
'Now-?'
His voice spoke for him.
'Of course.'
He got off the trunk and led the way across the clinking cinders up into the dark, and the others followed.
Now that his physical voice was silent the inner voice of reason, and other voices too, made themselves heard. Piggy was calling him a kid. Another voice told him not to be a fool; and the darkness and desperate enterprise gave the night a kind of dentist's chair unreality.
As they came to the last slope, Jack and Roger drew near, changed from the ink-stains to distinguishable figures. By common consent they stopped and crouched together. Behind them, on the horizon, was a patch of lighter sky where in a moment the moon would rise. The wind roared once in the forest and pushed their rags against them.
Ralph stirred.
'Come on.'
They crept forward, Roger lagging a little. Jack and Ralph turned the shoulder of the mountain together. The glittering lengths of the lagoon lay below them and beyond that a long white smudge that was the reef. Roger joined them.
Jack whispered.
'Let's creep forward on hands and knees. Maybe it's asleep.'
Roger and Ralph moved on, this time leaving Jack in the rear, for all his brave words. They came to the flat top where the rock was hard to hands and knees.
