A creature that bulged.
Ralph put his hand in the cold, soft ashes of the fire and smothered a cry. His hand and shoulder were twitching from the unlooked-for contact. Green lights of nausea appeared for a moment and ate into the darkness. Roger lay behind him and Jack's mouth was at his ear.
'Over there, where there used to be a gap in the rock. A sort of hump-see?'
Ashes blew into Ralph's face from the dead fire. He could not see the gap or anything else, because the green lights were opening again and growing, and the top of the mountain was sliding sideways.
Once more, from a distance, he heard Jack's whisper.
'Scared?'
Not scared so much as paralyzed; hung up there immovable on the top of a diminishing, moving mountain. Jack slid away from him, Roger bumped, fumbled with a hiss of breath, and passed onwards. He heard them whispering.
'Can you see anything?'
'There-'
In front of them, only three or four yards away, was a rock-like hump where no rock should be. Ralph could hear a tiny chattering noise coming from somewhere– perhaps from his own mouth. He bound himself together with his will, fused his fear and loathing into a hatred, and stood up. He took two leaden steps forward.
Behind them the silver of moon had drawn clear of the horizon. Before them, something like a great ape was sitting asleep with its head between its knees. Then the wind roared in the forest, there was confusion in the darkness and the creature lifted its head, holding toward them the ruin of a face.
Ralph found himself taking giant strides among the ashes, heard other creatures crying out and leaping and dared the impossible on the dark slope; presently the mountain was deserted, save for the three abandoned sticks and the thing that bowed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gift for the Darkness
Piggy looked up miserably from the dawn-pale beach to the dark mountain.
'Are you sure? Really sure, I mean?'
I told you a dozen times now,' said Ralph, 'we saw it.'
'D'you think we're safe down here?'
'How the hell should I know?'
Ralph jerked away from him and walked a few paces along the beach. Jack was kneeling and drawing a circular pattern in the sand with his forefinger. Piggy's voice came to them, hushed.
'Are you sure? Really?'
'Go up and see,' said Jack contemptuously, 'and good riddance.'
'No fear.'
'The beast had teeth,' said Ralph, 'and big black eyes.'
He shuddered violently. Piggy took off his one round of glass and polished the surface.
'What we going to do?'
Ralph turned toward the platform. The conch glimmered among the trees, a white blob against the place where the sun would rise. He pushed back his mop.
'I don't know.'
He remembered the panic flight down the mountainside. 'I don't think we'd ever fight a thing that size, honestly, you know. We'd talk but we wouldn't fight a tiger. We'd hide. Even Jack 'ud hide.'
Jack still looked at the sand.
'What about my hunters?'
Simon came stealing out of the shadows by the shelters. Ralph ignored Jack's question. He pointed to the touch of yellow above the sea.
'As long as there's light we're brave enough. But then? And now that thing squats by the fire as though it didn't want us to be rescued-'
He was twisting his hands now, unconsciously. His voice rose.
'So we can't have a signal fire. . . . We're beaten.'
A point of gold appeared above the sea and at once all the sky lightened.
'What about my hunters?'
'Boys armed with sticks.'
Jack got to his feet. His face was red as he marched away. Piggy put on his one glass and looked at Ralph.
'Now you done it. You been rude about his hunters.'
'Oh shut up!'
The sound of the inexpertly blown conch interrupted them. As though he were serenading the rising sun, Jack went on blowing till the shelters were astir and the hunters crept to the platform and the littluns whimpered as now they so frequently did. Ralph rose obediently, and Piggy, and they went to the platform.
'Talk,' said Ralph bitterly, 'talk, talk, talk.'
He took the conch from Jack.
'This meeting-'
Jack interrupted him.
'I called it.'
'If you hadn't called it I should have. You just blew the conch.'
'Well, isn't that calling it?'
'Oh, take it! Go on-talk!'
Ralph thrust the conch into Jack's arms and sat down on the trunk.
'I've called an assembly,' said Jack, 'because of a lot of things. First, you know now, we've seen the beast. We crawled up. We were only a few feet away. The beast sat up and looked at us. I don't know what it does. We don't even know what it is-'
'The beast comes out of the sea-'
'Out of the dark-'
'Trees-'
'Quiet!' shouted Jack. 'You, listen. The beast is sitting up there, whatever it is-'
'Perhaps it's waiting-'
'Hunting-'
'Yes, hunting.'
'Hunting,' said Jack. He remembered his age-old tremors in the forest. 'Yes. The beast is a hunter. Only– shut up! The next thing is that we couldn't kill it. And the next is that Ralph said my hunters are no good.'
'I never said that!'
'I've got the conch. Ralph thinks you're cowards, running away from the boar and the beast. And that's not all.'
There was a kind of sigh on the platform as if everyone knew what was coming. Jack's voice went up, tremulous yet determined, pushing against the uncooperative silence.
'He's like Piggy. He says things like Piggy. He isn't a proper chief.'
Jack clutched the conch to him.
'He's a coward himself.'
For a moment he paused and then went on.
'On top, when Roger and me went on-he stayed back.'
'I went too!'
'After.'
The two boys glared at each other through screens of hair.
