Chapter 1 The Sound of the Shell   The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon. Though he had taken off his school sweater and trailed it now from one hand, his grey shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. All round him the long scar smashed into the jungle was a bath of heat. He was clambering heavily among the creepers and broken trunks when a bird, a vision of red and yellow, flashed upwards with a witch-like cry; and this cry was echoed by another.      "Hi!" it said. "Wait a minute!"   The undergrowth at the side of the scar was shaken and a multitude of raindrops fell pattering.   "Wait a minute," the voice said. "I got caught up."      The fair boy stopped and jerked his stockings with an automatic gesture that made the jungle seem for a moment like the Home Counties.      The voice spoke again."I can't hardly move with all these creeper things."      The owner of the voice came backing out of the undergrowth so that twigs scratched on a greasy windbreaker. The naked crooks of his knees were plump, caught and scratched by thorns. He bent down, removed the thorns carefully, and turned around. He was shorter than the fair boy and very fat. He came forward, searching out safe lodgments for his feet, and then looked up through thick spectacles.      "Where's the man with the megaphone?"   The fair boy shook his head.      "This is an island. At least I think it's an island. That's a reef out in the sea. Perhaps there aren't any grownups anywhere."      The fat boy looked startled.   "There was that pilot. But he wasn't in the passenger cabin, he was up in front."   The fair boy was peering at the reef through screwed-up eyes.      "All them other kids," the fat boy went on. "Some of them must have got out. They must have, mustn't they?"      The fair boy began to pick his way as casually as possible toward the water. He tried to be offhand and not too obviously uninterested, but the fat boy hurried after him.   "Aren't there any grownups at all?"   "I don't think so."      The fair boy said this solemnly; but then the delight of a realized ambition overcame him. In the middle of the scar he stood on his head and grinned at the reversed fat boy.   "No grownups!"   The fat boy thought for a moment.   "That pilot."   The fair boy allowed his feet to come down and sat on the steamy earth.   "He must have flown off after he dropped us. He couldn't land here. Not in a place with wheels."   "We was attacked!"   "He'll be back all right."   The fat boy shook his head.      "When we was coming down I looked through one of them windows. I saw the other part of the plane.There were flames coming out of it."   He looked up and down the scar.   "And this is what the cabin done."   The fair boy reached out and touched the jagged end of a trunk. For a moment he looked interested.   "What happened to it?" he asked. "Where's it got to now?"      "That storm dragged it out to sea. It wasn't half dangerous with all them tree trunks falling. There must have been some kids still in it."   He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again.   "What's your name?"   "Ralph."      The fat boy waited to be asked his name in turn but this proffer of acquaintance was not made; the fair boy called Ralph smiled vaguely, stood up, and began to make his way once more toward the lagoon. The fat boy hung steadily at his shoulder.   "I expect there's a lot more of us scattered about. You haven't seen any others, have you?"   Ralph shook his head and increased his speed. Then he tripped over a branch and came down with a crash.   The fat boy stood by him, breathing hard.   "My auntie told me not to run," he explained, "on account of my asthma."   "Ass-mar?"      "That's right. Can't catch my breath. I was the only boy in our school what had asthma," said the fat boy with a touch of pride. "And I've been wearing specs since I was three."   He took off his glasses and held them out to Ralph, blinking and smiling, and then started to wipe them against his grubby wind-breaker. An expression of pain and inward concentration altered the pale contours of his face. He smeared the sweat from his cheeks and quickly adjusted the spectacles on his nose.      "Them fruit."   He glanced round the scar.   "Them fruit," he said, "I expect--"   He put on his glasses, waded away from Ralph, and crouched down among the tangled foliage.   "I'll be out again in just a minute--"      Ralph disentangled himself cautiously and stole away through the branches. In a few seconds the fat boy's grunts were behind him and he was hurrying toward the screen that still lay between him and the lagoon. He climbed over a broken trunk and was out of the jungle.      The shore was fledged with palm trees. These stood or leaned or reclined against the light and their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air. The ground beneath them was a bank covered with coarse grass, torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees, scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings. Behind this was the darkness of the forest proper and the open space of the scar. Ralph stood, one hand against a grey trunk, and screwed up his eyes against the shimmering water. Out there, perhaps a mile away, the white surf flinked on a coral reef, and beyond that the open sea was dark blue. Within the irregular arc of coral the lagoon was still as a mountain lake--blue of all shades and shadowy green and purple. The beach between the palm terrace and the water was a thin stick, endless apparently, for to Ralph's left the perspectives of palm and beach and water drew to a point at infinity; and always, almost visible, was the heat.      He jumped down from the terrace. The sand was thick over his black shoes and the heat hit him. He became conscious of the weight of clothes, kicked his shoes off fiercely and ripped off each stocking with its elastic garter in a single movement. Then he leapt back on the terrace, pulled off his shirt, and stood there among the skull-like coconuts with green shadows from the palms and the forest sliding over his skin. He undid the snakeclasp of his belt, lugged off his shorts and pants, and stood there naked, looking at the dazzling beach and the water.      He was old enough, twelve years and a few months, to have lost the prominent tummy of childhood and not yet old enough for adolescence to have made him awkward. You could see now that he might make a boxer, as far as width and heaviness of shoulders went, but there was a mildness about his mouth and eyes that proclaimed no devil. He patted the palm trunk softly, and, forced at last to believe in the reality of the island laughed delightedly again and stood on his head. He turned neatly on to his feet, jumped down to the beach, knelt and swept a double armful of sand into a pile against his chest. Then he sat back and looked at the water with bright, excited eyes.      "Ralph--"   The fat boy lowered himself over the terrace and sat down carefully, using the edge as a seat.   "I'm sorry I been such a time. Them fruit--"      He wiped his glasses and adjusted them on his button nose. The frame had made a deep, pink "V" on the bridge. He looked critically at Ralph's golden body and then down at his own clothes. He laid a hand on the end of a zipper that extended down his chest.      "My auntie--"   Then he opened the zipper with decision and pulled the whole wind-breaker over his head.   "There!"   Ralph looked at him sidelong and said nothing.      "I expect we'll want to know all their names," said the fat boy, "and make a list. We ought to have a meeting."   Ralph did not take the hint so the fat boy was forced to continue.      "I don't care what they call me," he said confidentially, "so long as they don't call me what they used to call me at school."      Ralph was faintly interested.   "What was that?"   The fat boy glanced over his shoulder, then leaned toward Ralph.   He whispered.   "They used to call me 'Piggy.'"   Ralph shrieked with laughter. He jumped up.   "Piggy! Piggy!"   "Ralph--please!"   Piggy clasped his hands in apprehension.   "I said I didn't want--"   "Piggy! Piggy!"      Ralph danced out into the hot air of the beach and then returned as a fighter-plane, with wings swept back, and machine-gunned Piggy.      "Sche-aa-ow!"   He dived in the sand at Piggy's feet and lay there laughing.   "Piggy!"   Piggy grinned reluctantly, pleased despite himself at even this much recognition.   "So long as you don't tell the others--"   Ralph giggled into the sand. The expression of pain and concentration returned to Piggy's face.   "Half a sec'."   He hastened back into the forest. Ralph stood up and trotted along to the right.      Here the beach was interrupted abruptly by the square motif of the landscape; a great platform of pink granite thrust up uncompromisingly through forest and terrace and sand and lagoon to make a raised jetty four feet high. The top of this was covered with a thin layer of soil and coarse grass and shaded with young palm trees. There was not enough soil for them to grow to any height and when they reached perhaps twenty feet they fell and dried, forming a criss-cross pattern of trunks, very convenient to sit on. The palms that still stood made a green roof, covered on the underside with a quivering tangle of reflections from the lagoon. Ralph hauled himself onto this platform, noted the coolness and shade, shut one eye, and decided that the shadows on his body were really green. He picked his way to the seaward edge of the platform and stood looking down into the water. It was clear to the bottom and bright with the efflorescence of tropical weed and coral. A school of tiny, glittering fish flicked hither and thither. Ralph spoke to himself, sounding the bass strings of delight.      "Whizzoh!"      Beyond the platform there was more enchantment. Some act of God--a typhoon perhaps, or the storm that had accompanied his own arrival--had banked sand inside the lagoon so that there was a long, deep pool in the beach with a high ledge of pink granite at the further end. Ralph had been deceived before now by the specious appearance of depth in a beach pool and he approached this one preparing to be disappointed. But the island ran true to form and the incredible pool, which clearly was only invaded by the sea at high tide, was so deep at one end as to be dark green. Ralph inspected the whole thirty yards carefully and then plunged in. The water was warmer than his blood and he might have been swimming in a huge bath.      Piggy appeared again, sat on the rocky ledge, and watched Ralph's green and white body enviously.   "You can't half swim."   "Piggy."      Piggy took off his shoes and socks, ranged them carefully on the ledge, and tested the water with one toe.      "It's hot!"   "What did you expect?"   "I didn't expect nothing. My auntie--"   "Sucks to your auntie!"      Ralph did a surface dive and swam under water with his eyes open; the sandy edge of the pool loomed up like a hillside. He turned over, holding his nose, and a golden light danced and shattered just over his face. Piggy was looking determined and began to take off his shorts. Presently he was palely and fatly naked. He tiptoed down the sandy side of the pool, and sat there up to his neck in water smiling proudly at Ralph.      "Aren't you going to swim?"   Piggy shook his head.   "I can't swim. I wasn't allowed. My asthma--"   "Sucks to your ass-mar!"   Piggy bore this with a sort of humble patience. "You can't half swim well."      Ralph paddled backwards down the slope, immersed his mouth and blew a jet of water into the air. Then he lifted his chin and spoke.      "I could swim when I was five. Daddy taught me. He's a commander in the Navy. When he gets leave he'll come and rescue us. What's your father?"      Piggy flushed suddenly.   "My dad's dead," he said quickly, "and my mum--"   He took off his glasses and looked vainly for something with which to clean them.      "I used to live with my auntie. She kept a candy store. I used to get ever so many candies. As many as I liked. When'll your dad rescue us?"   "Soon as he can."      Piggy rose dripping from the water and stood naked, cleaning his glasses with a sock. The only sound that reached them now through the heat of the morning was the long, grinding roar of the breakers on the reef.      "How does he know we're here?"   Ralph lolled in the water. Sleep enveloped him like the swathing mirages that were wrestling with the brilliance of the lagoon.      "How does he know we're here?"   Because, thought Ralph, because, because. The roar from the reef became very distant.   "They'd tell him at the airport."      Piggy shook his head, put on his flashing glasses and looked down at Ralph.   "Not them. Didn't you hear what the pilot said? About the atom bomb? They're all dead."      Ralph pulled himself out of the water, stood facing Piggy, and considered this unusual problem.   Piggy persisted.   "This an island, isn't it?"   "I climbed a rock," said Ralph slowly, "and I think this is an island."      "They're all dead," said Piggy, "an' this is an island. Nobody don't know we're here. Your dad don't know, nobody don't know--"   His lips quivered and the spectacles were dimmed with mist.   "We may stay here till we die."      With that word the heat seemed to increase till it became a threatening weight and the lagoon attacked them with a blinding effulgence.   "Get my clothes," muttered Ralph. "Along there."      He trotted through the sand, enduring the sun's enmity, crossed the platform and found his scattered clothes. To put on a grey shirt once more was strangely pleasing. Then he climbed the edge of the platform and sat in the green shade on a convenient trunk. Piggy hauled himself up, carrying most of his clothes under his arms. Then he sat carefully on a fallen trunk near the little cliff that fronted the lagoon; and the tangled reflections quivered over him.      Presently he spoke.   "We got to find the others. We got to do something."      Ralph said nothing. Here was a coral island. Protected from the sun, ignoring Piggy's ill-omened talk, he dreamed pleasantly.      Piggy insisted.   "How many of us are there?"   Ralph came forward and stood by Piggy.   "I don't know."      Here and there, little breezes crept over the polished waters beneath the haze of heat. When these breezes reached the platform the palm fronds would whisper, so that spots of blurred sunlight slid over their bodies or moved like bright, winged things in the shade.      Piggy looked up at Ralph. All the shadows on Ralph's face were reversed; green above, bright below from the lagoon. A blur of sunlight was crawling across his hair.   "We got to do something."      Ralph looked through him. Here at last was the imagined but never fully realized place leaping into real life. Ralph's lips parted in a delighted smile and Piggy, taking this smile to himself as a mark of recognition, laughed with pleasure.      "If it really is an island--"   "What's that?"   Ralph had stopped smiling and was pointing into the lagoon. Something creamy lay among the ferny weeds.      "A stone."   "No. A shell."   Suddenly Piggy was a-bubble with decorous excitement.      "S'right. It's a shell! I seen one like that before. On someone's back wall. A conch he called it. He used to blow it and then his mum would come. It's ever so valuable--"      Near to Ralph's elbow a palm sapling leaned out over the lagoon. Indeed, the weight was already pulling a lump from the poor soil and soon it would fall. He tore out the stem and began to poke about in the water, while the brilliant fish flicked away on this side and that. Piggy leaned dangerously.      "Careful! You'll break it--"   "Shut up."      Ralph spoke absently. The shell was interesting and pretty and a worthy plaything; but the vivid phantoms of his day-dream still interposed between him and Piggy, who in this context was an irrelevance. The palm sapling, bending, pushed the shell across the weeds. Ralph used one hand as a fulcrum and pressed down with the other till the shell rose, dripping, and Piggy could make a grab.      Now the shell was no longer a thing seen but not to be touched, Ralph too became excited. Piggy babbled:      "--a conch; ever so expensive. I bet if you wanted to buy one, you'd have to pay pounds and pounds and pounds--he had it on his garden wall, and my auntie--"      Ralph took the shell from Piggy and a little water ran down his arm. In color the shell was deep cream, touched here and there with fading pink. Between the point, worn away into a little hole, and the pink lips of the mouth, lay eighteen inches of shell with a slight spiral twist and covered with a delicate, embossed pattern. Ralph shook sand out of the deep tube.      "--mooed like a cow," he said. "He had some white stones too, an' a bird cage with a green parrot. He didn't blow the white stones, of course, an' he said--"      Piggy paused for breath and stroked the glistening thing that lay in Ralph's hands.   "Ralph!"   Ralph looked up.   "We can use this to call the others. Have a meeting. They'll come when they hear us--"   He beamed at Ralph.   "That was what you meant, didn't you? That's why you got the conch out of the water?"   Ralph pushed back his fair hair.   "How did your friend blow the conch?"      "He kind of spat," said Piggy. "My auntie wouldn't let me blow on account of my asthma. He said you blew from down here." Piggy laid a hand on his jutting abdomen. "You try, Ralph. You'll call the others."      Doubtfully, Ralph laid the small end of the shell against his mouth and blew. There came a rushing sound from its mouth but nothing more. Ralph wiped the salt water off his lips and tried again, but the shell remained silent.      "He kind of spat."   Ralph pursed his lips and squirted air into the shell, which emitted a low, farting noise. This amused both boys so much that Ralph went on squirting for some minutes, between bouts of laughter.      "He blew from down here."   Ralph grasped the idea and hit the shell with air from his diaphragm. Immediately the thing sounded. A deep, harsh note boomed under the palms, spread through the intricacies of the forest and echoed back from the pink granite of the mountain. Clouds of birds rose from the treetops, and something squealed and ran in the undergrowth.      Ralph took the shell away from his lips.   "Gosh!"      His ordinary voice sounded like a whisper after the harsh note of the conch. He laid the conch against his lips, took a deep breath and blew once more. The note boomed again: and then at his firmer pressure, the note, fluking up an octave, became a strident blare more penetrating than before. Piggy was shouting something, his face pleased, his glasses flashing. The birds cried, small animals scuttered. Ralph's breath failed; the note dropped the octave, became a low wubber, was a rush of air.      The conch was silent, a gleaming tusk; Ralph's face was dark with breathlessness and the air over the island was full of bird-clamor and echoes ringing.      "I bet you can hear that for miles."   Ralph found his breath and blew a series of short blasts.   Piggy exclaimed: "There's one!"      A child had appeared among the palms, about a hundred yards along the beach. He was a boy of perhaps six years, sturdy and fair, his clothes torn, his face covered with a sticky mess of fruit. His trousers had been lowered for an obvious purpose and had only been pulled back half-way. He jumped off the palm terrace into the sand and his trousers fell about his ankles; he stepped out of them and trotted to the platform. Piggy helped him up. Meanwhile Ralph continued to blow till voices shouted in the forest. The small boy squatted in front of Ralph, looking up brightly and vertically. As he received the reassurance of something purposeful being done he began to look satisfied, and his only clean digit, a pink thumb, slid into his mouth.      Piggy leaned down to him.   "What's yer name?"   "Johnny."      Piggy muttered the name to himself and then shouted it to Ralph, who was not interested because he was still blowing. His face was dark with the violent pleasure of making this stupendous noise, and his heart was making the stretched shirt shake. The shouting in the forest was nearer.      Signs of life were visible now on the beach. The sand, trembling beneath the heat haze, concealed many figures in its miles of length; boys were making their way toward the platform through the hot, dumb sand. Three small children, no older than Johnny, appeared from startlingly close at hand, where they had been gorging fruit in the forest. A dark little boy, not much younger than Piggy, parted a tangle of undergrowth, walked on to the platform, and smiled cheerfully at everybody. More and more of them came. Taking their cue from the innocent Johnny, they sat down on the fallen palm trunks and waited. Ralph continued to blow short, penetrating blasts. Piggy moved among the crowd, asking names and frowning to remember them. The children gave him the same simple obedience that they had given to the men with megaphones. Some were naked and carrying their clothes; others half-naked, or more or less dressed, in school uniforms, grey, blue, fawn, jacketed, or jerseyed. There were badges, mottoes even, stripes of color in stockings and pullovers. Their heads clustered above the trunks in the green shade; heads brown, fair, black, chestnut, sandy, mouse-colored; heads muttering, whispering, heads full of eyes that watched Ralph and speculated. Something was being done.      The children who came along the beach, singly or in twos, leapt into visibility when they crossed the line from heat haze to nearer sand. Here, the eye was first attracted to a black, bat-like creature that danced on the sand, and only later perceived the body above it. The bat was the child's shadow, shrunk by the vertical sun to a patch between the hurrying feet. Even while he blew, Ralph noticed the last pair of bodies that reached the platform above a fluttering patch of black. The two boys, bullet-headed and with hair like tow, flung themselves down and lay grinning and panting at Ralph like dogs. They were twins, and the eye was shocked and incredulous at such cheery duplication. They breathed together, they grinned together, they were chunky and vital. They raised wet lips at Ralph, for they seemed provided with not quite enough skin, so that their profiles were blurred and their mouths pulled open. Piggy bent his flashing glasses to them and could be heard between the blasts, repeating their names.      "Sam, Eric, Sam, Eric."   Then he got muddled; the twins shook their heads and pointed at each other and the crowd laughed.      At last Ralph ceased to blow and sat there, the conch trailing from one hand, his head bowed on his knees. As the echoes died away so did the laughter, and there was silence.      Within the diamond haze of the beach something dark was fumbling along. Ralph saw it first, and watched till the intentness of his gaze drew all eyes that way. Then the creature stepped from mirage on to clear sand, and they saw that the darkness was not all shadow but mostly clothing. The creature was a party of boys, marching approximately in step in two parallel lines and dressed in strangely eccentric clothing. Shorts, shirts, and different garments they carried in their hands; but each boy wore a square black cap with a silver badge on it. Their bodies, from throat to ankle, were hidden by black cloaks which bore a long silver cross on the left breast and each neck was finished off with a hambone frill. The heat of the tropics, the descent, the search for food, and now this sweaty march along the blazing beach had given them the complexions of newly washed plums. The boy who controlled them was dressed in the same way though his cap badge was golden. When his party was about ten yards from the platform he shouted an order and they halted, gasping, sweating, swaying in the fierce light. The boy himself came forward, vaulted on to the platform with his cloak flying, and peered into what to him was almost complete darkness.      "Where's the man with the trumpet?"   Ralph, sensing his sun-blindness, answered him.   "There's no man with a trumpet. Only me."      The boy came close and peered down at Ralph, screwing up his face as he did so. What he saw of the fairhaired boy with the creamy shell on his knees did not seem to satisfy him. He turned quickly, his black cloak circling.      "Isn't there a ship, then?"   Inside the floating cloak he was tall, thin, and bony; and his hair was red beneath the black cap. His face was crumpled and freckled, and ugly without silliness. Out of this face stared two light blue eyes, frustrated now, and turning, or ready to turn, to anger.      "Isn't there a man here?"   Ralph spoke to his back.   "No. We're having a meeting. Come and join in."   The group of cloaked boys began to scatter from close line. The tall boy shouted at them.   "Choir! Stand still!"      Wearily obedient, the choir huddled into line and stood there swaying in the sun. None the less, some began to protest faintly.      "But, Merridew. Please, Merridew . . . can't we?"      Then one of the boys flopped on his face in the sand and the line broke up. They heaved the fallen boy to the platform and let him lie. Merridew, his eyes staring, made the best of a bad job.      "All right then. Sit down. Let him alone."   "But Merridew."   "He's always throwing a faint," said Merridew. "He did in Gib.; and Addis; and at matins over the precentor."      This last piece of shop brought sniggers from the choir, who perched like black birds on the criss-cross trunks and examined Ralph with interest. Piggy asked no names. He was intimidated by this uniformed superiority and the offhand authority in Merridew's voice. He shrank to the other side of Ralph and busied himself with his glasses.      Merridew turned to Ralph.   "Aren't there any grownups?"   "No."   Merridew sat down on a trunk and looked round the circle.   "Then we'll have to look after ourselves."   Secure on the other side of Ralph, Piggy spoke timidly.      "That's why Ralph made a meeting. So as we can decide what to do. We've heard names. That's Johnny. Those two--they're twins, Sam 'n Eric. Which is Eric--? You? No--you're Sam--"      "I'm Sam--"   "'n I'm Eric."   "We'd better all have names," said Ralph, "so I'm Ralph."   "We got most names," said Piggy. "Got 'em just now."   "Kids' names," said Merridew. "Why should I be Jack? I'm Merridew."   Ralph turned to him quickly. This was the voice of one who knew his own mind.      "Then," went on Piggy, "that boy--I forget--"   "You're talking too much," said Jack Merridew. "Shut up, Fatty."   Laughter arose.   "He's not Fatty," cried Ralph, "his real name's Piggy!"   "Piggy!"   "Piggy!"   "Oh, Piggy!"      A storm of laughter arose and even the tiniest child joined in. For the moment the boys were a closed circuit of sympathy with Piggy outside: he went very pink, bowed his head and cleaned his glasses again.      Finally the laughter died away and the naming continued. There was Maurice, next in size among the choir boys to Jack, but broad and grinning all the time. There was a slight, furtive boy whom no one knew, who kept to himself with an inner intensity of avoidance and secrecy. He muttered that his name was Roger and was silent again. Bill, Robert, Harold, Henry; the choir boy who had fainted sat up against a palm trunk, smiled pallidly at Ralph and said that his name was Simon.      Ralph and said that his name was Simon.   Jack spoke.   "We've got to decide about being rescued."   There was a buzz. One of the small boys, Henry, said that he wanted to go home.   "Shut up," said Ralph absently. He lifted the conch. "Seems to me we ought to have a chief to decide things."   "A chief! A chief!"   "I ought to be chief," said Jack with simple arrogance, "because I'm chapter chorister and head boy. I can sing C sharp."   Another buzz.   "Well then," said Jack, "I--"   He hesitated. The dark boy, Roger, stirred at last and spoke up.   "Let's have a vote."   "Yes!"   "Vote for chief!"   "Let's vote--"      This toy of voting was almost as pleasing as the conch. Jack started to protest but the clamor changed from the general wish for a chief to an election by acclaim of Ralph himself. None of the boys could have found good reason for this; what intelligence had been shown was traceable to Piggy while the most obvious leader was Jack. But there was a stillness about Ralph as he sat that marked him out: there was his size, and attractive appearance; and most obscurely, yet most powerfully, there was the conch. The being that had blown that, had sat waiting for them on the platform with the delicate thing balanced on his knees, was set apart.      "Him with the shell."   "Ralph! Ralph!"   "Let him be chief with the trumpet-thing."   Ralph raised a hand for silence.   "All right. Who wants Jack for chief?"   With dreary obedience the choir raised their hands.   "Who wants me?"      Every hand outside the choir except Piggy's was raised immediately. Then Piggy, too, raised his hand grudgingly into the air.      Ralph counted.   "I'm chief then."      The circle of boys broke into applause. Even the choir applauded; and the freckles on Jack's face disappeared under a blush of mortification. He started up, then changed his mind and sat down again while the air rang. Ralph looked at him, eager to offer something.      "The choir belongs to you, of course."   "They could be the army--"   "Or hunters--"   "They could be--"   The suffusion drained away from Jack's face. Ralph waved again for silence.   "Jack's in charge of the choir. They can be--what do you want them to be?"   "Hunters."   Jack and Ralph smiled at each other with shy liking. The rest began to talk eagerly.   Jack stood up.   "All right, choir. Take off your togs."      As if released from class, the choir boys stood up, chattered, piled their black cloaks on the grass. Jack laid his on the trunk by Ralph. His grey shorts were sticking to him with sweat. Ralph glanced at them admiringly, and when Jack saw his glance he explained.      "I tried to get over that hill to see if there was water all round. But your shell called us."   Ralph smiled and held up the conch for silence.      "Listen, everybody. I've got to have time to think things out. I can't decide what to do straight off. If this isn't an island we might be rescued straight away. So we've got to decide if this is an island. Everybody must stay round here and wait and not go away. Three of us--if we take more we'd get all mixed, and lose each other--three of us will go on an expedition and find out. I'll go, and Jack, and, and . . ."      He looked round the circle of eager faces. There was no lack of boys to choose from.   "And Simon."      The boys round Simon giggled, and he stood up, laughing a little. Now that the pallor of his faint was over, he was a skinny, vivid little boy, with a glance coming up from under a hut of straight hair that hung down, black and coarse.      He nodded at Ralph.   "I'll come."   "And I--"   Jack snatched from behind him a sizable sheath-knife and clouted it into a trunk. The buzz rose and died away.   Piggy stirred.   "I'll come."   Ralph turned to him.   "You're no good on a job like this."   "All the same--"   "We don't want you," said Jack, flatly. "Three's enough."   Piggy's glasses flashed.   "I was with him when he found the conch. I was with him before anyone else was."      Jack and the others paid no attention. There was a general dispersal. Ralph, Jack and Simon jumped off the platform and walked along the sand past the bathing pool. Piggy hung bumbling behind them.      "If Simon walks in the middle of us," said Ralph, "then we could talk over his head."      The three of them fell into step. This meant that every now and then Simon had to do a double shuffle to catch up with the others. Presently Ralph stopped and turned back to Piggy.      "Look."   Jack and Simon pretended to notice nothing. They walked on.   "You can't come."   Piggy's glasses were misted again--this time with humiliation.   "You told 'em. After what I said."   His face flushed, his mouth trembled.   "After I said I didn't want--"   "What on earth are you talking about?"      "About being called Piggy. I said I didn't care as long as they didn't call me Piggy; an' I said not to tell and then you went an' said straight out--"      Stillness descended on them. Ralph, looking with more understanding at Piggy, saw that he was hurt and crushed. He hovered between the two courses of apology or further insult.      "Better Piggy than Fatty," he said at last, with the directness of genuine leadership, "and anyway, I'm sorry if you feel like that. Now go back, Piggy, and take names. That's your job. So long."      He turned and raced after the other two. Piggy stood and the rose of indignation faded slowly from his cheeks. He went back to the platform.      The three boys walked briskly on the sand. The tide was low and there was a strip of weed-strewn beach that was almost as firm as a road. A kind of glamour was spread over them and the scene and they were conscious of the glamour and made happy by it. They turned to each other, laughing excitedly, talking, not listening. The air was bright. Ralph, faced by the task of translating all this into an explanation, stood on his head and fell over. When they had done laughing, Simon stroked Ralph's arm shyly; and they had to laugh again.      "Come on," said Jack presently, "we're explorers."   "We'll go to the end of the island," said Ralph, "and look round the corner."   "If it is an island--"      Now, toward the end of the afternoon, the mirages were settling a little. They found the end of the island, quite distinct, and not magicked out of shape or sense. There was a jumble of the usual squareness, with one great block sitting out in the lagoon. Sea birds were nesting there.      "Like icing," said Ralph, "on a pink cake."      "We shan't see round this corner," said Jack, "because there isn't one. Only a slow curve--and you can see, the rocks get worse--"      Ralph shaded his eyes and followed the jagged outline of the crags up toward the mountain. This part of the beach was nearer the mountain than any other that they had seen.      "We'll try climbing the mountain from here," he said. "I should think this is the easiest way. There's less of that jungly stuff; and more pink rock. Come on."      The three boys began to scramble up. Some unknown force had wrenched and shattered these cubes so that they lay askew, often piled diminishingly on each other. The most usual feature of the rock was a pink cliff surmounted by a skewed block; and that again surmounted, and that again, till the pinkness became a stack of balanced rock projecting through the looped fantasy of the forest creepers. Where the pink cliffs rose out of the ground there were often narrow tracks winding upwards. They could edge along them, deep in the plant world, their faces to the rock.      "What made this track?"   Jack paused, wiping the sweat from his face. Ralph stood by him, breathless.   "Men?"   Jack shook his head.   "Animals."   Ralph peered into the darkness under the trees. The forest minutely vibrated.   "Come on."      The difficulty was not the steep ascent round the shoulders of rock, but the occasional plunges through the undergrowth to get to the next path. Here the roots and stems of creepers were in such tangles that the boys had to thread through them like pliant needles. Their only guide, apart from the brown ground and occasional flashes of light through the foliage, was the tendency of slope: whether this hole, laced as it was with the cables of creeper, stood higher than that.      Somehow, they moved up.   Immured in these tangles, at perhaps their most difficult moment, Ralph turned with shining eyes to the others.   "Wacco."   "Wizard."   "Smashing."      The cause of their pleasure was not obvious. All three were hot, dirty and exhausted. Ralph was badly scratched. The creepers were as thick as their thighs and left little but tunnels for further penetration. Ralph shouted experimentally and they listened to the muted echoes.      "This is real exploring," said Jack. "I bet nobody's been here before."   "We ought to draw a map," said Ralph, "only we haven't any paper."   "We could make scratches on bark," said Simon, "and rub black stuff in."   Again came the solemn communion of shining eyes in the gloom.   "Wacco."   "Wizard."      There was no place for standing on one's head. This time Ralph expressed the intensity of his emotion by pretending to knock Simon down; and soon they were a happy, heaving pile in the under-dusk.      When they had fallen apart Ralph spoke first.   "Got to get on."      The pink granite of the next cliff was further back from the creepers and trees so that they could trot up the path. This again led into more open forest so that they had a glimpse of the spread sea. With openness came the sun; it dried the sweat that had soaked their clothes in the dark, damp heat. At last the way to the top looked like a scramble over pink rock, with no more plunging through darkness. The boys chose their way through defiles and over heaps of sharp stone.      "Look! Look!"      High over this end of the island, the shattered rocks lifted up their stacks and chimneys. This one, against which Jack leaned, moved with a grating sound when they pushed.      "Come on--"   But not "Come on" to the top. The assault on the summit must wait while the three boys accepted this challenge. The rock was as large as a small motor car.      "Heave!"   Sway back and forth, catch the rhythm.   "Heave!"      Increase the swing of the pendulum, increase, increase, come up and bear against that point of furthest balance-- increase--increase--      "Heave!"      The great rock loitered, poised on one toe, decided not to return, moved through the air, fell, struck, turned over, leapt droning through the air and smashed a deep hole in the canopy of the forest. Echoes and birds flew, white and pink dust floated, the forest further down shook as with the passage of an enraged monster: and then the island was still.      "Wacco!"   "Like a bomb!"   "Whee-aa-oo!"   Not for five minutes could they drag themselves away from this triumph. But they left at last.   The way to the top was easy after that. As they reached the last stretch Ralph stopped.   "Golly!"      They were on the lip of a circular hollow in the side of the mountain. This was filled with a blue flower, a rock plant of some sort, and the overflow hung down the vent and spilled lavishly among the canopy of the forest. The air was thick with butterflies, lifting, fluttering, settling.      Beyond the hollow was the square top of the mountain and soon they were standing on it.      They had guessed before that this was an island: clambering among the pink rocks, with the sea on either side, and the crystal heights of air, they had known by some instinct that the sea lay on every side. But there seemed something more fitting in leaving the last word till they stood on the top, and could see a circular horizon of water.      Ralph turned to the others.      "This belongs to us."      It was roughly boat-shaped: humped near this end with behind them the jumbled descent to the shore. On either side rocks, cliffs, treetops and a steep slope: forward there, the length of the boat, a tamer descent, tree- clad, with hints of pink: and then the jungly flat of the island, dense green, but drawn at the end to a pink tail. There, where the island petered out in water, was another island; a rock, almost detached, standing like a fort, facing them across the green with one bold, pink bastion.      The boys surveyed all this, then looked out to sea. They were high up and the afternoon had advanced; the view was not robbed of sharpness by mirage.      "That's a reef. A coral reef. I've seen pictures like that."      The reef enclosed more than one side of the island, lying perhaps a mile out and parallel to what they now thought of as their beach. The coral was scribbled in the sea as though a giant had bent down to reproduce the shape of the island in a flowing chalk line but tired before he had finished. Inside was peacock water, rocks and weeds showing as in an aquarium; outside was the dark blue of the sea. The tide was running so that long streaks of foam tailed away from the reef and for a moment they felt that the boat was moving steadily astern.      Jack pointed down.      "That's where we landed."      Beyond falls and cliffs there was a gash visible in the trees; there were the splintered trunks and then the drag, leaving only a fringe of palm between the scar and the sea. There, too, jutting into the lagoon, was the platform, with insect-like figures moving near it.      Ralph sketched a twining line from the bald spot on which they stood down a slope, a gully, through flowers, round and down to the rock where the scar started.      "That's the quickest way back."      Eyes shining, mouths open, triumphant, they savored the right of domination. They were lifted up: were friends.      "There's no village smoke, and no boats," said Ralph wisely. "We'll make sure later; but I think it's uninhabited."      "We'll get food," cried Jack. "Hunt. Catch things. until they fetch us."      Simon looked at them both, saying nothing but nodding till his black hair flopped backwards and forwards: his face was glowing.      Ralph looked down the other way where there was no reef.   "Steeper," said Jack.   Ralph made a cupping gesture.   "That bit of forest down there . . . the mountain holds it up."      Every point of the mountain held up trees--flowers and trees. Now the forest stirred, roared, flailed. The nearer acres of rock flowers fluttered and for half a minute the breeze blew cool on their faces.      Ralph spread his arms.   "All ours."   They laughed and tumbled and shouted on the mountain.   "I'm hungry."   When Simon mentioned his hunger the others became aware of theirs.   "Come on," said Ralph. "We've found out what we wanted to know."   They scrambled down a rock slope, dropped among flowers and made their way under the trees. Here they paused and examined the bushes round them curiously.      Simon spoke first.   "Like candles. Candle bushes. Candle buds."      The bushes were dark evergreen and aromatic and the many buds were waxen green and folded up against the light. Jack slashed at one with his knife and the scent spilled over them.      "Candle buds."   "You couldn't light them," said Ralph. "They just look like candles."   "Green candles," said Jack contemptuously. "We can't eat them. Come on."      They were in the beginnings of the thick forest, plonking with weary feet on a track, when they heard the noises--squeakings--and the hard strike of hoofs on a path. As they pushed forward the squeaking increased till it became a frenzy. They found a piglet caught in a curtain of creepers, throwing itself at the elastic traces in all the madness of extreme terror. Its voice was thin, needle-sharp and insistent; The three boys rushed forward and Jack drew his knife again with a flourish. He raised his arm in the air. There came a pause, a hiatus, the pig continued to scream and the creepers to jerk, and the blade continued to flash at the end of a bony arm. The pause was only long enough for them to understand what an enormity the downward stroke would be. Then the piglet tore loose from the creepers and scurried into the undergrowth. They were left looking at each other and the place of terror. Jack's face was white under the freckles. He noticed that he still held the knife aloft and brought his arm down replacing the blade in the sheath. Then they all three laughed ashamedly and began to climb back to the track.      "I was choosing a place," said Jack. "I was just waiting for a moment to decide where to stab him."      "You should stick a pig," said Ralph fiercely. "They always talk about sticking a pig."      "You cut a pig's throat to let the blood out," said Jack, "otherwise you can't eat the meat."      "Why didn't you--?"      They knew very well why he hadn't: because of the enormity of the knife descending and cutting into living flesh; because of the unbearable blood.      "I was going to," said Jack. He was ahead of them, and they could not see his face. "I was choosing a place. Next time--!"      He snatched his knife out of the sheath and slammed it into a tree trunk. Next time there would be no mercy. He looked round fiercely, daring them to contradict. Then they broke out into the sunlight and for a while they were busy finding and devouring food as they moved down the scar toward the platform and the meeting. 第一章 海螺的声音 金发少年从岩石最下面的一截攀下来,又开始试探着朝环礁湖方向走去。虽然他已经脱掉了那件学校里常穿的笨重运动衫,但还是大汗淋漓;灰衬衫湿淋淋地粘在身上,湿漉漉地头发贴在前额上。忽然在这个少年的四周一条长长的孤岩猛插进丛林深处,天气的闷热使得孤岩就象个热气腾腾的浴缸。这会儿少年正在藤蔓和断树残干中费劲儿地爬着,突然一只红黄色的小鸟怪叫一声、振翅高飞,紧接着又响起了另一个声音。 “嘿!”这声音喊道,“等一等!” 孤岩侧面的矮灌木丛有大量的雨珠啪嗒啪嗒地直往下掉,使得矮灌木丛摇来晃去。 “等等。”这声音又叫,“我给缠住了。” 金发少年把脚停住,很轻松地紧紧袜子。他这动作此刻让人觉得这孩子好象是在老家一样。 那个声音又叫开了。“这么多的藤蔓我真没法摆脱。”说这话的孩子正从矮灌木丛中脱身出来,细树枝在他肮脏的防风外衣上刮擦刮擦直响。 他光着的膝盖被荆棘缠住擦伤了。 他弯下腰,小心谨慎地拨开棘刺,然后转过身来。 与金发少年相比,这个男孩稍矮一些,身体也胖了一些。 他用脚小心地试探着往前走着,寻找着安全的落脚处,随后又透过厚厚的眼镜往上瞧瞧。“那个带话筒的大人在哪儿?” 金发少年摇摇头。“这是一个岛,至少在我看来是一个岛。那里是一条伸进外海的礁脉。兴许这儿没大人了。” 胖男孩睁大眼睛,张大嘴巴。“本来有个驾驶员,他没在客舱,在前上方的驾驶舱里。” 金发少年眯起眼睛凝视着那条礁脉。 “剩下的全都是小孩儿。”胖男孩继续说道。“他们肯定会有跑出来的,你说是不是?” 金发少年开始随心所欲地找路往水边走。他尽量使自己显示出一副随随便便的样子,同时又避免表露出明显的无动于衷,可那胖男孩尾随其后。 “到底还有没有大人呢?” “我认为没有。”金发少年板着面孔回答。可随后,他又象实现了理想般的喜不自胜。 在孤岩当中,他就地拿了个大顶,咧嘴笑看着颠倒了的胖男孩。 “没大人口罗!”胖男孩想了想。“那个驾驶员呢?” 金发少年两腿一屈,一屁股坐在湿漉漉的地上。“他把咱们投下后就走了,因为他没法使有轮子的飞机在这儿着陆。” “咱们被偷袭了!” “他会平安回来的。” 胖男孩晃晃脑袋。“下降那阵子不但我从一个窗口往外瞧过,而且我看见飞机的其他部分直朝外喷火。”他上下打量着孤岩。 “这不就是机身撞的。”金发少年伸手摸摸树干高低不平的一头,好像对此事非常感兴趣。 “机身又怎么了?”他问道。“那东西现在又跑哪儿去了呢?” “暴风雨把机身拖到海里去了。倒下的树干这么多,情况一定非常严重。机舱里准保还有些小孩儿呢?” 胖男孩犹豫一下又问:“你叫什么名字?” “拉尔夫。” 胖男孩等着对方问自己的名字,可对方却不打算了解自己。名叫拉尔夫的金发少年隐约笑笑,站起身来,又开始朝环礁湖方向走去。 胖男孩的手重重地搭在拉尔夫的肩膀上。“我想还有好多小孩可能分散在附近。你没见过别人吗?” 拉尔夫摆摆头,加快了步伐,没想到却被树枝一绊,猛地摔了个跟头。 胖男孩气喘嘘嘘地站在他身边。“我姨妈叫我别跑。”他生气地说,“因为我有气喘病。” “气喘病?” “对呀,就是接不上气。在我们那个学校就我得气喘病。”胖男孩略带骄傲地说:“我还从三岁起就一直带着眼镜。”他随手取下眼镜递给拉尔夫看,还笑眯眯地眨眨眼,随后把眼镜放在肮脏的防风外衣上擦起来。 一会儿胖男孩苍白的面容上再次出现了一种痛苦难抑的表情。他擦擦双颊的汗珠,匆匆地整理好鼻上的眼镜。 他环视了一下孤岩。 “看那些野果。”他说,“那些野果,我以为——”他绕过拉尔夫身边的藤蔓,在一堆缠绕着的簇叶中蹲了下去。 “我一会儿就出来——”拉尔夫小心翼翼地解开缠绕在身上的枝条,很快穿过杂树乱枝。 不一会儿胖男孩鼾声就落到他的身后,拉尔夫急急忙忙地朝树林赶去。他翻过一根断树干后,走出了丛林。 海岸边长满各式各样的棕榈,有的树身耸立着,有的树身向阳光偏斜着,绿色的树叶伸向空中高达一百英尺。树下是铺满粗壮杂草的斜堤,被乱七八糟横七竖八倒下的树划得东一道西一道,还弥漫着腐烂的椰子和棕榈树苗的气味。之后就是那黑压压的森林本体部分和孤岩的空旷地带。拉尔夫背靠着棕灰树干站着,眯起眼睛看着波光粼粼的海水。从这里往外约一英里的地方,雪白的浪花忽隐忽现地拍打着一座珊瑚礁。再往外则是湛蓝而辽阔的大海。在珊瑚礁不规则的弧形圈里,环礁湖平静得象一个山潭——湖水呈现出蓝色、墨绿色和紫色。在长着棕榈树的斜坡和海水之间是一条狭窄的弓形海滩,看似遥不可及,在拉尔夫的左面,棕榈、海滩和海水伸向远处;而几乎张眼看到的则是一股腾腾的热气。 拉尔夫从斜坡上跳下去。因为沙子太厚而淹没了他的黑鞋子,热浪冲击着他。 他意识到身上的衣服很重,猛地踢掉鞋,快速地脱掉一双袜子。接着又跳回到斜坡上,站在一堆脑壳样的椰子当中,扯下衬衫,立刻棕榈和森林的绿荫斜照到他的皮肤上。拉尔夫解开蛇形搭扣的皮带,用力地脱掉短裤和衬裤,光着身子站在那儿,注视着耀眼的海滩和海水。 拉尔夫已经长大了,有十二岁多了。象征着是小孩子的凸肚子已经不见了,但还没大到会感到难为情的青春期。就从他长得又宽又结实的肩膀而言,看得出他完全可能成为一个拳击手,但他的嘴形和眼睛偏又流露出一种温柔的神色,表明他心地善良。拉尔夫轻轻地拍拍棕榈树干,终于意识到这确实是个岛,又开心地笑笑,来了个拿大顶。他利索地翻身站起来,蹦到海滩上,跪下拨了两抱沙子,在胸前形成个沙堆。随之他往后一坐,兴奋的明眸直盯着海水。 “拉尔夫——”在斜坡上胖男孩蹲下身子,把斜坡边缘当个座位,小心地坐下来。 “对不起,我来迟了。那些野果——”他擦擦眼镜之后,又把扁鼻子上的眼镜端正。眼镜框在鼻梁上印了道深深的、粉红的“V”形。他打量着拉尔夫精神焕发的身体,然后又低头瞧瞧,一只手放到直落胸前的拉链头上的衣服。 “我姨妈——”随后他果断地拉开拉链,整件防风外衣被他套在头上。“瞧!” 拉尔夫一言不发的从侧面看看他。 “我想咱们要知道他们全部的名字,” 胖男孩说,“还要造一份名单,咱们该开个会。” 拉尔夫没说话,所以胖男孩只好继续说下去:“我不在乎他们叫我啥名字,”他以肯定的口气对拉尔夫说,“只要他们在学校别时常叫我的那个绰号。” 拉尔夫有点感兴趣了。“那个是什么绰号?” 胖男孩的视线越过自己的肩膀瞥了一下,然后凑向拉尔夫。他悄悄地说:“他们常叫我‘猪崽子’。” 尖声大笑着的拉尔夫跳了起来。“猪崽子!猪崽子哟!” “拉尔夫——请别叫!”担心地猪崽子绞紧了双手。“我说过不要——” “猪崽子哟!猪崽子哟!”在海滩的赤热空气中拉尔夫手舞足蹈地跳开了,接着又装做战斗机翅膀后剪的样子折回来,机枪往猪崽子身上扫。 “吓—啊—哦!”他一头俯冲进猪崽子脚下的沙堆,躺在那里直笑。 “猪崽子!” 猪崽不情愿地咧开了嘴,尽管这样的招呼对他似乎是过份了,但他还是被逗乐了。 “只要你不告诉别人——” 拉尔夫在沙滩中格格地笑着。 在猪崽子的脸上又一次表现了痛苦和专注的神色。“等一等。”  猪崽子着急地奔回森林。拉尔夫站起来,朝右面小步跑去。 在这儿,成直角基调的地形猛地把海滩截断了,一大块粉红色的花岗岩平台不协调地直穿过森林、斜坡、沙滩和环礁湖,形成一个高达四英尺的突出部分。一层薄薄的泥土覆盖在平台顶上,粗壮的杂草和成荫的小棕榈树在上面长着。因为没有充足的泥土让小树茁壮成长,所以它们到二十英尺光景就倒下而干死。 树干横七竖八地交叠在一起,坐起来倒容易。依然挺立着的棕榈树形成了一个罩盖着地面的绿顶,里面闪耀着从环礁湖反射上来的跳动的散光。 拉尔夫硬爬上平台,很快就看到了这儿凉快的绿荫,他闭上一只眼,心想落在身上的树叶的影子一定是绿色的,又择路走向平台朝海的一边,站在那里俯视着海水。水底清澈,又因盛长热带海藻和珊瑚而璀璨夺目。一群小小的、闪闪发光的鱼儿东游西窜、忽隐忽现。 拉尔夫喜出望外,他用低沉的嗓门,自言自语地说道:“太棒了!” 还有更迷人的东西在平台外面呢!某种不可抗拒的自然力量——也许是一场台风,或是跟随他一起到来的那场风暴——一道沙堤在环礁湖的里侧被堆起,因而海滩里造成个长而深的水潭,较远一头是高高的突出粉红色的花岗岩部分。拉尔夫曾上过当,看上去海滩水潭深,其实不然。 现在他走近这个水潭,本也没抱希望。这个岛却实是一个岛,使人难以置信的是这个水潭是由海发大潮所造成的,它的一头深得呈墨绿色,拉尔夫仔细地巡看了这整整三十码的水面,接着一个猛子扎了进去。拉尔夫好象是在一个巨大的浴缸里游泳因为水比他的血还暖。 猪崽子又出现了,坐在岩石突出的边上,用嫉妒的眼光注视着拉尔夫在绿水里上下雪白的身躯。 “你游得不好。” “猪崽子。” 猪崽子小心地将脱掉的鞋袜排放在岩石边上,接着用一只脚趾试试水温。 “太热!” “你干嘛还等着呀?” “可我的姨妈。可我的姨妈——” “去你的姨妈!”从水面往下一扎的拉尔夫在水中睁着眼游,水潭的沙质岩边隐隐约约地象个小山坡。 他翻了个身,捏住鼻子,正看到一道摇晃的金光碎落在眼前。猪崽子看来正犹豫,他动手脱掉短裤,不一会儿,露出又白又胖的身躯。 他踮着脚趾走到水潭的沙滩边,坐在那儿,水没到颈部,充满自豪的他对着拉尔夫微笑。 “你不打算游吗?” 猪崽子晃晃脑袋。“我不会。我姨妈不准我游,我有气喘病——” “去你的气喘不气喘!”猪崽子以一种谦卑的耐心忍着。“你游得不行啊!” 拉尔夫用脚啪嗒啪嗒地打着水把嘴浸下去,游回到斜面下,再向上空喷一口水,随后抬起下巴说:“我五岁就会游泳,我爸爸教的。他是个海军军官。他一休假就会来救咱们的。你爸爸是干什么的?” 猪崽子的脸顿时红了。“我爹死了,”他急匆匆地说,“而我妈——”他把眼镜取下来,想寻找些什么来擦擦,但又找不到。 “我一直跟姨妈住一块儿。她开了个糖果铺,我常吃许多糖,愿意吃多少就吃多少。什么时候你爸爸来救咱们?” “他会尽量快的。”从水中走来的湿淋淋的猪崽子光着身子站着,用一只袜子擦擦眼镜。 透过早晨的热气他们所听到的唯一声响,就是波浪撞击着礁石那永不停息的、恼人的轰鸣。 “他怎么会知道咱们在这儿?”在水里懒洋洋地游着的拉尔夫正被睡意笼罩着,就象充满蜃楼幻影的脑际正在同五光十色的环礁湖景致一比高低。 “他怎么会知道咱们在这儿呢?”因为,拉尔夫想,因为,因为……从礁石处传来的浪涛声变得是那么的遥远。“他们会在飞机场告诉他的。” 猪崽子摇摇头,戴上闪光的眼镜,俯视着拉尔夫。“他们不会。你没听驾驶员说原子弹的事吗?他们全死了。” 从水里爬了出来的拉尔夫,面对猪崽子站着,这个不寻常的问题被他思考着。 猪崽子不断问道:“这是个岛吗?” “我爬过山岩,”拉尔夫慢吞吞地回答,“我想这是个岛。” “他们死光了,”猪崽子说,“而这又是个岛。咱们在这儿的事情是绝对没人知道的。你爸爸不会知道,肯定其他人也不会知道——”他的眼镜被他微微颤动的嘴唇的雾气弄得模糊不清。 “咱们将呆在这儿等死吗?”随着这个“死”字,暑热仿佛更加逼人。环礁湖也以令人目眩的灿烂袭击着他们。 “我去拿衣服,”拉尔夫咕哝地说,“在那儿。” 他忍着骄阳的毒焰,小步跑过沙滩,横穿过高出沙滩的平台,找到了他东一件西一件的衣服,再穿上灰衬衫倒觉得有一种说不出的惬意。  随后他又爬上平台的边缘,在绿荫里找了根适当的树干就坐下了。 猪崽子费劲儿地爬了上来,手臂下夹着他的许多衣服,又小心翼翼地坐在一根倒下的树干上,靠近朝向环礁湖的小峭壁。他身上不停地晃动着湖水交错的反射光。 一会儿猪崽子又说开了:“咱们得找找别人。咱们该干点事。” 拉尔夫一言不发。这儿是座珊瑚岛。 他避开了烈日的炙烤,也不在乎猪崽子那带凶兆的嘟哝,他照样儿做着自己快乐的梦。 猪崽子仍顺着自己的话题往下说:“在这儿咱们有多少人?” 拉尔夫走上前去,站在猪崽子身旁回答:“我不知道。” 一阵阵微风在暑热烟霭的下面,拂过波光粼粼的水面。棕榈叶片在微风吹到平台时,发出簌簌的低吟,于是,在他俩身上浮掠过模糊的太阳光斑,象耀眼的带翅膀的小东西在树荫里跳跃。 猪崽子仰望着拉尔夫,他脸上的阴影全反了,上半部是绿茵茵的,下半部由于环礁湖的反映,变得亮闪闪的。一道强光正抹过他的头发。 “咱们总该干点事吧!” 拉尔夫似旁若无人。一个想象中存在而从未得到充分实现的地方,终于在这儿一跃而成为活生生的现实了。 猪崽子却把拉尔夫那快活得笑得合不拢嘴当作是对他的赏识,也满意地笑起来。 “如果这真是个岛的话——” “那又怎么样呢?”止住了微笑的拉尔夫,用手指着环礁湖。 他看到了在海蕨草中有个深米色的东西。 “一块石头?” “不,一个贝壳。”忽然,高兴地猪崽子站了起来;他兴奋得倒也并不过份。 “对。这是个贝壳,我以前在人家的后屋墙上见过。那人叫它海螺。他常吹,一吹他妈妈就来了。那东西可值钱哩——” 有一棵靠拉尔夫的手肘边的小棕榈树苗倾斜到环礁湖上。由于小树苗本身的重量已经从贫瘠的泥土中拖出了一团泥块,这预示着它很快就要倒下了。 拉尔夫拔出细树干,在水里拨弄起来,五颜六色的鱼左右逃窜。倾斜着身子的猪崽子,看上去很不稳。 “当心!要断了——” “闭嘴。”拉尔夫不专心地说着。贝壳有趣、好看、是个值钱的玩意儿。拉尔夫好象在做白日梦,梦中生动的幻象萦绕在他和猪崽子之间,可猪崽子并不是他梦境中的人物。他用弯曲的棕榈树苗把贝壳推出了海藻,再用一只手当作支点抵住树枝,另一只手往下压细树苗的一端,直到把贝壳挑了上来,水滴滴嗒嗒地直往下淌,然后猪崽子一把抓住海螺。  此刻海螺不再是一个遥不可及的东西了,拉尔夫也变得兴奋起来。 猪崽子唠唠叨叨地说:“——海螺;可真贵。我敢打赌,你要买个海螺,就得花好多、好多的钱——那人把海螺挂在花园围墙上,我姨妈——” 从猪崽子手里拉尔夫接过贝壳,贝壳里的水顺他的手臂流下。贝壳是深米色的,点缀着淡淡的粉红斑点。在磨出一个小孔的贝壳尖和粉红色的贝壳嘴当中,壳体大概有十八英寸,略呈螺旋状,表面还有细致而巧妙的凸纹。壳内深处的沙子被拉尔夫摇晃出来。 “——象头奶牛哞哞叫,”猪崽子说。 “他还有些白石子,还有一只养着绿鹦鹉的鸟笼。他当然不会去吹那些石子,他说——”猪崽子停下来换了一口气,摸摸拉尔夫手里那个闪光的东西。 “拉尔夫!” 拉尔夫抬起头来。 “咱们可以吹这个来集会。他们听见了会来的——”他笑看着拉尔夫。 “这难道不是你的意思吗?你从水里捞起这只海螺就为这缘故吧?” 金黄的头发被拉尔夫往后一撩。“你那朋友到底会不会吹海螺?” “他把海螺吹得像吐唾沫似的,”猪崽子说。“我姨妈不让我吹,因为我有气喘病。他说你吹气要从下面这儿使劲往贝壳里吹。” 猪崽子把一只手放到他那鼓鼓的小肚子上。“你试试看,拉尔夫。别人会被召来的。” 拉尔夫半信半疑,他把贝壳小的一头抵在嘴上吹起来。 从贝壳嘴里冲出一阵急促的声音,然后就什么也听不到了。拉尔夫擦去嘴唇上的咸水,又试了一次,但贝壳里仍然没有一点声音出来。 “他吹起来有点象吐唾沫似的。”拉尔夫噘起嘴往里鼓气,贝壳呜地冒出一种低沉的、放屁似的怪声。 这下子两个男孩可被他逗乐了,在一阵阵高兴的笑声之中拉尔夫又使劲吹了几分钟。 “他使劲儿的吹着下面。”拉尔夫这才抓住关键,运用横隔膜的气往贝壳里灌输。 刹时那东西就响了。在掌心中一种低沉而又刺耳的声音嗡嗡作响,随后穿跃参差不齐的林海,到粉红色的花岗岩山才发出回声。无数的鸟儿从树梢上惊起,下层的林丛中则有什么动物在吱吱乱叫乱跑。 拉尔夫将嘴边的贝壳拿走了。 “天哪!”听过海螺刺耳的声音后,他那平常讲话的声音同它相比可真是天壤之别了。 他把海螺顶住嘴唇,深吸一口,又吹了一下。螺声再次嗡嗡响起:然后随着他的力度,声音碰巧增到八度,比刚才那次更加刺耳。 猪崽子哇哇地高喊,面带喜色,眼镜闪闪发亮。鸟儿在惊叫,小动物在疲于奔命的逃窜。拉尔夫接不上气了,声音跌下了八度的海螺,变成一股低沉的呜呜气流。 海螺悄无声息,就象一支闪烁的獠牙,拉尔夫的脸由于没有及时的换上气而显得暗淡无光,岛的上空仍然停留着鸟儿的惊叫声以及各种回声。 “我敢打赌,你在几英里外都听得见。“ 拉尔夫喘过气,又吹了一连串短促的强音。 猪崽子惊喜地叫起来:“来了一个!” 沿海滩约一百码的棕榈树林里冒出了一个男孩子。看起来他六岁上下,身体结实、头发金黄、衣衫褴褛,粘糊糊的野果浆汁把他的脸涂得一塌糊涂。 为了某种明确的目的,他把裤子脱了下来,现在刚拉上一半。他跳进长着棕榈树的斜坡的沙滩当中,裤子再次滑到脚踝上,他一步步地走出沙滩,小步跑到平台。 他上来的时候猪崽子帮了把忙。 同一时刻,拉尔夫继续猛吹海螺,吹到林中响起了许多小孩的声音。小男孩蹲在拉尔夫面前,高兴地仰起头来看着拉尔夫。 等到他肯定地知道他们将共同干点事情时,脸上露出微笑,并把他惟一一只还算干净的肉色大拇指放进嘴巴。 猪崽子向他弯下腰去。 “你叫什么名字?” “约翰尼。” 猪崽子自言自语的说着这个名字,随后大声地说给拉尔夫听,而拉尔夫对此却没有丝毫兴趣,因为他还在使劲地吹海螺。 拉尔夫为吹出这种巨大的声响而兴奋至极,使他的脸紫涨着,他的心似乎跳得连敞开的衬衫也在颤动。森林中有片呼喊声由远及近而来。海滩上此刻出现了一派生机勃勃的景象。 左右伸展开达几英里长,在暑热烟霭底下使沙滩都好似震颤着,时隐时现着许多人影。 一群男孩子踏着烫人而无声的海滩,而朝这边拥来。三个同约翰尼差不多的小孩子从近得令人吃惊的地方突地冒了出来。他们方才一直在森林里狼吞虎咽地大嚼野果。 一个肤色黝黑、同猪崽子一般大的孩子,拨开一处矮灌木林丛然后钻出来,走到了平台上,快乐地朝大伙儿笑笑。 更多的孩子们赶来了。他们从天真的约翰尼身上得到启示,坐在倒下的棕榈树干上等着。 拉尔夫一个劲儿地猛吹出短促又刺耳的海螺声。猪崽子则在人群中忙前忙后,问名问姓并皱眉蹙额地记着这些名字。 孩子们都听猪崽子,就象过去什么都听从带话筒的大人一样。有些孩子光着身子,提着衣服;有的半裸着身子,或者多少穿点衣服;有穿各种学校制服,灰色、蓝色、浅黄色的;有穿茄克衫或线衫的;有穿着彩条纹袜子和紧身上衣的;还有戴着各种徽章,甚至格言牌的。在绿荫里横卧着的树干之上,人头攒动,头发有褐色的、金黄的、黑色的、栗色的、淡茶色的、鼠灰色的。都在那儿窃窃私语,都睁大着眼睛观察着拉尔夫,猜测着某种事情将要进行。 越过暑热烟霭到达附近沙滩的交接部分的沿着海滩单独地或三三两两地走来的孩子,变得更加清晰可见。 在这儿,孩子们的眼光先被一个在沙滩上舞动着的、黑黑的、蝙蝠样的东西吸引住了,随后才察觉到这上面的身体。 原来蝙蝠样的东西是一个孩子的身影,由于垂直的阳光照射而在杂乱的脚步之中缩成的一块斑影。 当拉尔夫在吹海螺时,也注意到了最后两个随风飘动的黑斑影似的身体已经到达平台。 两个脑袋尖尖、长着琐碎头发的男孩,象狗似的趴倒在拉尔夫面前,躺在那里气喘吁吁地露齿而笑。 他们俩是双胞胎,酷似一个人,此刻正微笑着,孩子们见了都很惊讶,简直难以相信自己的眼睛。 双胞胎一块儿喘着气,一块儿咧嘴而笑,矮小结实,而又生气勃勃。他们俩朝拉尔夫抬起潮湿的嘴唇。 好象是因为身体不够壮,所以他们的侧影显得模糊不清,嘴巴倒张得挺大。猪崽子朝他们弯下身子,明亮的眼镜对着他们,在此起彼伏的海螺声中重复着他们两人的名字。 “萨姆埃里克,萨姆埃里克。”猪崽子一时分不清,双胞胎晃着脑袋,指来点去,大伙儿哈哈大笑。 拉尔夫终于收起海螺,一只手提着海螺,坐在那儿,脑袋耷拉在膝盖上。海螺的回声听不到了,随后笑声渐渐隐退,一片静谧。 在海滩钻石般闪烁的烟霭中某种黑漆漆的东西正在摸索前来。拉尔夫首先看到他注视着,他聚精会神的眼光渐渐把所有孩子的眼光都牵引到那个方向。 接着那个东西从烟霭中走到了清晰的沙滩上,这下孩子们才看到黑乎乎的不都是阴影,却大多是衣服。 那东西是一队男孩,他们穿着让人很少看到的怪衣服,排成并列的两行,步调一致。他们手里拿着短裤、衬衫,提着各种衣服,但每个男孩都戴一顶有银色帽徽的黑方帽。 他们的身体从喉咙到脚跟都被黑斗篷裹着,一个长长的、银色的十字架佩在左胸前,每个人的颈部都被丑角服装上用的褶叠花边领装饰着。带着暑热,翻山越岭,寻找食物,此刻再加上光线强烈得令人目眩的海滩更让人大汗淋漓,使他们的皮肤红得就象刚洗过的梅子。 管他们的一个男孩同他们穿着一样,除了他的帽徽是金色的。 这支队伍离平台约十码远时,他一声令下,队伍停住,在炙烤的阳光下他们都喘着粗气,汗如雨下,东摇西晃。这个男孩独自往前走来,斗篷一甩,攀上平台,此刻他仍盯着前面看,尽管在他眼前几乎是漆黑一片。 “带喇叭的大人在哪儿?” 拉尔夫觉察到太阳的强烈使他的眼睛看不清东西,回答道:“这儿没有带喇叭的大人。只有我。” 这男孩往前走,眼光向下,盯着拉尔夫,同时皱起面孔。 看见了一个膝盖上搁着深米色贝壳的金发男孩,这似乎并没有使他满足。他快速转过身来,黑斗篷兜着圈圈。 “那么,有没有船呢?”从拂动着的斗篷里可以看出他是个大身架的瘦高个儿,黑帽子下露出红头发。 他脸上长着痤疮和雀斑,长相难看,但不显得傻气。此刻虽有点沮丧的两只浅蓝色的眼睛看向前方,但又露出即将发怒的样子,或者说随时准备发怒的样子。 “大人不在这儿喽?”拉尔夫在他背后回答:“没有,可我们正开会呢。来参加吧。” 挤得紧紧的队列被穿斗篷的男孩们挤散了。 高个子的男孩对他们喊道:“合唱队!立正!”队员们照做,但他们精疲力竭,挤在一起排成一个队列,在阳光下站在那里左右摇摆。 其中也有一些开始小声抱怨起来:“可是,梅瑞狄。请问,梅瑞狄……我们可不可以……?” 一个男孩就在那时突然噗地一声合脸倒在沙滩上,队伍一下子没了秩序。 立刻,摔倒在地的男孩被他们抬到平台上,让他躺下。 梅瑞狄瞪着眼,无可奈何地说:“那好吧。坐下。随便他。” “可是,梅瑞狄。” “晕倒的总是他,”梅瑞狄说,“在直布罗陀晕倒;在亚的斯亚贝巴晕倒,而且在晨祷时还晕倒在指挥身上呢!”合唱队员为这最后一句行话引得一阵窃笑,他们象一群黑鸟似的依附在横七竖八的树干上,饶有兴致地观察着拉尔夫。 猪崽子没敢再问名字。这种整齐划一所产生的优越感,还有梅瑞狄口气中毫不客气流露出的权威性,让他惊呆。他畏畏缩缩地退到拉尔夫的另一边,眼镜被他拨弄着玩了起来。 梅瑞狄转向拉尔夫。 “一个大人也没有吗?” “没有。” 梅瑞狄坐在树干上东张西望。“那么我们只好自己料理自己的事情了。” 有了安全感的猪崽子在拉尔夫的另一边怯生生地说道:“为了决定下一步我们怎么办,拉尔夫才召开这个会。我们已经晓得了一些名字。那是约翰尼。那两个——他们是双胞胎,萨姆和埃里克。哪个是埃里克——?你?不——你是萨姆——” “我是萨姆——”“我是埃里克。” “最好大家能说出自己的名字,”拉尔夫说道,“我叫拉尔夫。” “大部分人的名字我们已经知道了,”猪崽子说。“这些名字是刚知道的。” “小孩儿的名字,”梅瑞狄说。“为什么偏要叫我杰克?我叫梅瑞狄。” 很快地朝他转过身的拉尔夫。听得出这是一个自己会拿主意的人。 “还有,”猪崽子继续说道,“那个男孩——我忘了——” “你说得够多的了。”杰克•梅瑞狄说。“闭嘴,胖子。” 一阵大笑。 “胖子不是他的名字,”拉尔夫喊道,“他名叫猪崽子!” “猪崽子!” “猪崽子哟!” “嗬,猪崽子哟!”一下子响起了暴风雨般的笑声,在笑着的也包括最小的孩子。 片刻之间除了猪崽子,其他男孩子们都连成一气:猪崽子脸色通红,耷拉着脑袋,又擦起眼镜来。 笑声总算过去了,又继续点名。 在合唱队里一直粗俗地龇牙咧嘴的那个男孩是莫里斯,他的个儿仅次于杰克。还有个谁也不熟悉的鬼头鬼脑的瘦个子男孩,他独来独往,一副躲躲闪闪、偷偷摸摸的样子。 他喃喃地说完他叫罗杰,又闷不做声了。还有比尔、罗伯特……,刚才晕倒的现在靠着一根棕榈树干坐着的那个合唱队男孩,毫无血色的脸朝拉尔夫微笑,说西蒙是我的名字。杰克说话了。 “咱们该想一个办法,想想怎么才能得救。” 一阵嘈杂之声。 一个叫亨利的小男孩喊着要回家。 “住口,”拉尔夫举起海螺漫不经心地说着。 “我觉得该有个头儿来对某些事情下决定。” “一个头儿!一个头儿!” “我该当头儿,”杰克骄矜地说,“因为我是合唱队的领唱,又是领头的。而且我还会唱升C调。” 一阵闹哄哄的声音再次响起。“那好吧,”杰克说,“我——”他犹豫不决了。 后来那个叫罗杰的、黑黝黝的男孩动弹一下,讲话了。“大伙儿投票表决。” “对呀!” “选一个头儿!” “大伙儿选——”这场选举的游戏同海螺一样那么令人开心。 杰克开始反对,但是希望有个头的要求已经变成一种呼声,而且拉尔夫本人也大声表示赞同。 对于这种现象的解释是没有一个男孩能找出充分理由来的,猪崽子感到事情已成定局,头头非杰克莫属。 然而,坐在那里的拉尔夫,身上有着某种镇定自若的风度,又那么与众不同:他有那样的身材,外貌也很迷人。 而最最说不清的,或许也是最强有力的,那就是他拥有海螺。他是惟一吹过海螺的人,现正坐在平台上等着大家选他,那碰不起的东西被他安安稳稳地搁在膝盖上,这一点是无人能比的。 “选那个有贝壳的。” “拉尔夫!拉尔夫!” “让那个有喇叭玩意儿的人当头。” 拉尔夫举起一手以示安静。“好了。谁要杰克当头?” 带着一种沉闷的气氛合唱队把手举了起来。 “谁要我当?” 除合唱队、猪崽子以外,剩下的人都立刻举起了手。随后猪崽子也把手勉强地举了起来。拉尔夫点着数。 “头领的头衔归我了。” 孩子们高兴地鼓起掌来,甚至连合唱队员也拍起手来。 杰克恼羞成怒,脸红得连雀斑都看不见了。他刷地站起来,接着又改变主意坐下。与此同时,闹哄哄的声音不绝于耳。拉尔夫瞧着杰克,急于表达什么。 “合唱队归你,当然。” “他们确能组成一支队伍——” “或当猎手——”“他们可以当——”杰克红涨的脸色渐渐恢复了原色。 拉尔夫又挥手示意安静。 “杰克负责管合唱队。他们可以当——你要他们当什么?” “猎手。”杰克和拉尔夫都对彼此有一种羞怯的好感因而两个人相互微笑着。 其余的男孩迫不及待地讲起话来。 杰克站起身。 “好了,合唱队,脱掉你们的外套。” 合唱队的男孩子就象下课一样,一立而起,一面叽叽喳喳地说着话,一面黑斗篷被堆在草地上。 杰克把自己的衣服往拉尔夫身旁的树干上一撂。 被汗水浸湿的灰短裤紧贴在他身上。 杰克注意到了拉尔夫无比钦佩的看着他们的目光,解释道:“刚才我想知道四周是否被水围着。于是就想爬过那座小山。可你的海螺声把我们给召来了。” 拉尔夫微笑着,他举起海螺以示安静。 “大伙儿听着。我得有空儿把事情仔细想想。我没法对一件事情立刻决定该怎么办。如果这不是个岛,或许咱们马上就会获救。因此咱们得弄清这是不是一个岛。大家都必须呆在附近,别走开。我们三个——很多人去了就会把事情搞得很糟,还会互相丢失——我们三个先去摸摸底,把事情弄弄清楚。我去,还有杰克,还有,还有……” 他环顾着四周一张张急切的面孔等着被他点到。“还有西蒙。” 西蒙站起来也对周围吃吃笑着的男孩微微地笑了。 西蒙因发晕而苍白的脸色已恢复了正常,让人很容易看出,他虽瘦小,却是个挺精神的小男孩。 炯炯的目光从披散下来的、又黑又粗又乱的头发下露出。 他朝拉尔夫点点头。 “我去。” “还有我——”杰克嗖地把一个相当大的刀子从身后的刀鞘里拔了出来。一下子捅进了树干。 响起了一阵窃窃私语声,随后又恢复了平静。 猪崽子嚷嚷道:“我也要去。” 拉尔夫向他转过身去。“这种事你干不了。” “我反正要去——” “你去了也没有用,”杰克直截了当地说。“三个就够了。” 猪崽子的眼镜闪烁着光。“我跟他在一起是他刚找到海螺的时候,比谁都早。” 对这点来说,杰克和别的孩子们都毫不在意。 眼下大伙儿已经散开。 拉尔夫、杰克和西蒙跃过平台,沿着沙滩走过洗澡的水潭。在他们身后猪崽子跌跌撞撞地尾随着。 “要是西蒙走在咱俩当中,”拉尔夫说道,“那咱们就可以在他头顶上讲话。” 三个孩子把脚步加快。这就使西蒙不得不加快步子跟上他们。 不一会儿猪崽子被停住脚转着身的拉尔夫看着。 “瞧。” 杰克和西蒙装作什么也没注意到,继续赶路。 “你不能跟上来。” 猪崽子的眼镜覆盖了一层雾气——这回还带着一种蒙羞受辱的感觉。 “你告诉了他们。我说了以后还告诉他们。”他嘴巴颤动着,满脸通红。 “我说过我不要——” “你到底在说什么呀?” “关于把我叫猪崽子的事。我说过只要他们不叫我猪崽子,别的我就不在乎。我还说别告诉人,然而你却一下子说了出去——” 两个孩子都不出声了。拉尔夫恍然大悟地瞧着猪崽子,看出他的感情受到伤害,正气得要命。 拉尔夫踌躇着,到底是道歉一声好,还是干脆火上浇油。 “叫你胖子比叫猪崽子好听,”拉尔夫最后说,又带着一种真正领导派头的直率说道,“不管怎么样,要是你感到满意,我为此而抱歉。好了,回去吧,猪崽子,去点名。你该做那活儿。回头见。” 拉尔夫转身向另外两个追去。 猪崽子停住脚,双颊上的怒容慢慢地消失了。 他往后走向了平台的方向。 三个男孩轻快地走在沙滩上。海水平静,一长条布满海藻的海滩坚硬得几乎象条路。 孩子们感觉到一种魅力扩展到他们和周围景色之上,为此神采奕奕。 他们相互对望,大声嬉笑,说个不停,可谁也没有把别人的话听进去。 气氛明朗而欢快。拉尔夫要将这所有这一切作出解释,他来了个拿大顶,又倒了过来。西蒙在三个孩子笑完后怯生生地触触拉尔夫的手臂;他们又情不自禁地笑起来。 “前进,”杰克跟着说,“咱们是探险家。” “咱们要走到岛的尽头,”拉尔夫说道,“到岛角上去转转看。” “假如这是个岛——” 傍晚将至,烟雾逐渐地散去。他们把岛的尽头看得一清二楚,在形状和感觉上都没有新意。 那是一个很平常的方方的混杂地形,还有一大块巨石坐落在环礁湖里,海鸟正在上头营窝作巢。 “正象一层糖霜,”拉尔夫说,“是在粉红色蛋糕上的糖霜。” “这个地方找不到什么,”杰克说,“因为就连一块大岩石也看不到,只有个弧形地段——而且,你们看到的也不过是乱极了的山岩——”拉尔夫用手遮着刺眼的太阳光,眼光随着一片岩——沿着高低不平的山的轮廓望去。这一部分的海滩比他们见过的其他部分都更靠近山。 “咱们从这儿爬试试看,”他说。 “我认为从这条路上山最方便。这儿丛林植物少点,粉红色的岩石较多。来吧。” 三个男孩开始向上登攀。 一路上的山石不知是被什么力量弄得扭曲砸碎七歪八倒的放着,你堆我叠地垒作一团。 这山岩最常见的特征是:在一个粉红岩石的峭壁顶上盖着一大块歪斜的巨石,而在这之上又接二连三地压着石头,直至保持着平衡这一片粉红色的山岩才形成一整块,这一整块岩石穿过互相交缠的藤蔓伸向晴空。 在粉红色的峭壁拔地而起的地方,有许多狭窄的小径逶迤而上。这些小径深陷在一片植物世界之中,孩子们可以面对山岩侧身沿着小径爬上去。 “这种小径是怎样形成的呢?”杰克停了一下,擦着脸上的汗水。 拉尔夫气喘吁吁地站在他身旁。 “是人吗?” 杰克摇摇头。 “是动物。” 拉尔夫直盯着黑洞洞的树底。 森林正在微微地颤动着。 “继续往前走。” 沿着崎岖的山脊向上登攀倒还容易,要穿越矮灌木林丛到达新的小路那就困难了。 在这儿,无数藤蔓的根茎相互交缠,孩子们不得不象穿针引线似的在其中前进。 此时山坡的倾斜趋势是他们的唯一向导,看那些四周长满粗大藤蔓的洞穴,是不是这一个高过那一个。 孩子们慢慢地、竭尽所能地向上攀爬着。在可以说是他们陷在这些缠绕着的乱糟糟的植物中的最困难的时候,拉尔夫目光闪闪地回顾着另两个。 “真带劲。” “好极了!”“没话说。”他们并没有理由该这样高兴。三个人全都热得要死、脏得要命、身体也精疲力尽。拉尔夫身上给划得一塌糊涂。藤蔓有碗口粗,紧紧地缠绕在一起,仅留很小的间隙,只能钻过去。拉尔夫试着叫了几声,他们只听到了低沉的回音。 “这才是真正的探险。”杰克说道。 “我敢打赌,以前肯定没有人来过这儿。” “咱们该画张地图,”拉尔夫说,“可是没纸。” “咱们可以往树皮上划,”西蒙说道,“再使劲把黑的东西往里嵌。” 三人在暗淡的光线中眨着亮闪闪的眼睛,进行着严肃的交流。 “真带劲。” “好极了!”这儿可没地方拿大顶了。 这次拉尔夫激情发泄是装作要把西蒙撞倒,一会儿在幽暗的树丛底下他们就喘着粗气,乐成一团。 互相分开以后,拉尔夫先开了口。“得再走喽!”从藤蔓和树丛出去,前面是一个粉红色的花岗岩峭壁,离这儿隔着一段路,因而孩子们可以沿着小路小步往上跑。走过小路前面的视野更加开阔了,他们可以瞥见一望无际的大海。骄阳不露缝隙地照在小路上,阳光将他们在黑暗和潮湿的暑热中浸透的衣服晒干了。 通向山巅看上去这最后一段路就象在粉红岩石上的蔓草,蜿蜒而上,却不再投入黑暗之中。孩子们择路穿越狭窄的山路,翻过碎石砂砾的陡坡。 “瞧哪!瞧哪!”在这一端高处的岛上,四散的岩石隆起着,有的象草垛,有的象烟囱。那块大石头被杰克一推就动,发出刺耳的轧轧声。 “前进——”但不是“前进”到山顶去。要等到三个孩子接受如下的挑战要赶到突击顶峰之前:前面横着大似小汽车样的岩石。 “嗨哟!”岩石伴着节拍摇来摇去。“嗨哟!”摆动的幅度越来越大,直增大到逼近能维持平衡的临界点——来一下——再来一下——“嗨哟!” 那块大石头摇动在一个支点上,不停地晃晃荡荡,决然一去不返,它越过空中,摔下去,撞击着,翻着筋斗,在空中蹦跳着,发出深沉的嗡嗡声,森林的翠顶被它砸出一个大洞。回声四起,鸟儿惊飞,那儿弥漫着白色的、粉红色的尘灰。远处再下面的森林象个发怒的恶魔经过似的震颤着;然后海岛再次平静下来。 “真带劲!”“真象一颗炸弹!”“喂——啊——呜!”他们在胜利的喜悦之中足足沉浸了好几分钟。终于离开这地方朝前走。通向山顶之后的路就容易了。拉尔夫在他们离山顶还有最后一段路时在原地停住了。“天哪!”他们正处在山侧的一个圆山谷边上,确切说是半圆的山谷边上。这儿盛开着蓝蓝的野花——一种岩生植物。溢流顺着口子垂荡下去,水沫乱溅落到森林的翠顶上。各种彩蝶在空中翩翩飞舞、忽上忽下忙个不停。 方方的山头与圆山谷还有一点距离,不一会儿他们就已站在山顶上了。他们在登上山顶以前就猜到了这是个岛:因为在粉红色的岩石中向上爬时,两侧都是大海,高空极其明澈,孩子们本能的意识到四面都是大海。可他们感到,似乎等站到山顶上,同时看到圆环状的海平线时,最后再下结论更合适些。 拉尔夫回头对另两个说:“这个岛归咱们了。” 海岛有点儿象船:他们所立之处地势隆起,他们身后曲折的地形下延到海岸。 两边都是千奇百怪的岩石、峭壁、树梢,山坡很陡。 正前方,在船身的范围之内,地形下降的坡度稍稍缓和一些,绿树将土地覆盖。有的地方露出粉红色的岩石。 再过去是岛上伸展开来的平坦而浓绿的丛林,最后以一块粉红色的岩石而告终。就在这个岛即将被海水淹没的地方,有着另外一个岛:几乎是同海岛分开有一块象城堡似的岩石矗立着,隔着绿色的海面与孩子们相对,象一个不可跨越的粉红岩石的棱堡。 孩子们俯瞰着这所有的一切,随后他们站得高高的向大海远眺。 下午已经过去,而景象仍依稀可见,并没有受到烟霭的干扰。 “那是礁石呢?一座珊瑚礁。我见过这样的图片。” 这礁石从两、三个方向环绕着小岛,它们位于一英里之外的海中,跟现在孩子们把这儿叫海滩的地方相平行。珊瑚礁在海中散布着,就好象一个巨人曾弯腰要为海岛的轮廓划一条流动的白粉线,可还没来得及划好就因累而作罢。礁石内侧:海水绚烂、暗礁林立、海藻丛生,就象水族馆里的生态展览一样。湛蓝的大海在礁石的外侧。海潮滚滚,礁石那边拖着长长的银白色的浪花泡沫,这让他们感到仿佛是大船正在稳稳地后退着。 杰克指着下面。 “那是咱们登陆的地方啊!”一道明显的缺口在树林中,在瀑布和峭壁之外:那是断树残干,往后延伸,在孤岩和大海之间剩下一抹棕榈所造成的。也正在那儿,突入环礁湖的是那块高出的平台,周围有小虫似的人影在跳动着。 从他们所站的平地拉尔夫朝斜坡方向往下看,模糊的看到一条曲折的线,那是一条穿过野花,盘旋直下到一块岩石的溪谷,孤岩就从那里开始。 “这条路回去最快。”孩子们眼睛闪着亮光,兴奋得合不拢嘴,他们凯旋而归,品尝着占有的欢乐。他们精神振奋,彼此都成了好朋友。“  没有炊烟,也没有船只,”拉尔夫聪明地说。“咱们以后会吃准这点;这样的岛就不会有人住。” “咱们要找吃的,”杰克叫道。“打猎。抓猎物……等到有人找到咱们为止。 ”西蒙瞧瞧他们俩,什么也没说,可不住地点头,弄得黑头发前后乱甩,使他的脸容光焕发。拉尔夫俯瞰着没有礁石的另一个方向。 “还要陡呢!”杰克说。 拉尔夫用手做成一个倒放着的杯子的形状。 “那下面有一小片森林……山把那片森林抬高了。”满山遍野的长着各种野花和乔木。此刻森林骚动起来,萧声阵阵,此起彼伏。附近成片的岩生野花拂动着,一会儿带着凉意的微风吹到了他们的脸上。 拉尔夫将双臂伸开。 “全是咱们的。”孩子们在山上欢呼雀跃着。 “我饿了。”西蒙一提起饿,别的孩子也有同感。 “走吧!”拉尔夫说道。“咱们已经弄清楚想要了解的事情了。” 他们翻过一道岩石斜坡,落到一片野花丛中,又在树下寻路前行。他们停到了那块地上,好奇地观察着四周的矮灌木丛。 西蒙先开了口。 “象蜡烛。蜡烛矮树。蜡烛花蕾。”矮灌木丛是墨绿的长青树,花香四溢,好多光滑的绿色花蕾叠着花瓣朝向阳光。杰克拿刀一砍,香沫四溅。 “蜡烛花蕾。” “你又不能将花蕾点燃,”拉尔夫说。“它们只是看上去象蜡烛。” “绿蜡烛,”杰克鄙弃地说,“咱们又不能把这当饭吃。走吧!” 孩子们又开始进入茂密的森林,他们迈着沉重的步伐扑通扑通地行走在一条小径上,突然听见一阵噪声——短促刺耳的尖叫声——小路上留下了蹄子沉重撞击地面的声音。 他们越往前推进,尖叫声越响,最后变成一阵阵声嘶力竭的狂叫。他们发现厚厚的藤蔓缠住了一头小野猪。 它惊恐万分,发疯似的朝四下挣扎着,不断发出尖叫声。 三个孩子冲上前去,杰克还拔出刀子挥舞起来。他在空中高举手臂。 随后停了一下,一个间隙,小野猪继续狂叫,藤蔓在快速地抽动着,杰克结实的手臂挥来挥去、刀刃闪亮。短暂的停顿使孩子们意识到要是小野猪向下冲去,力量是会很大的。 接着小野猪摆脱了藤蔓的束缚,急忙奔进矮灌木林丛。只剩下孩子们面面相觑,看着那恐怖的地方。 杰克苍白的脸将雀斑衬得一清二楚。他意识到自己还高举着刀子,便垂下手臂把刀身插入鞘内。一时他们全都羞愧地笑起来,又开始爬回原来的小径。 “我正在选地方,”杰克说。“我正拿主意往哪儿下手。” “你该用刀戳下去,”拉尔夫激烈地说道。“人们老是说杀猪的事。” “割猪的喉咙放血,”杰克说,“要不就吃不成肉。” “那你为啥不——?”孩子们知道他为啥没下手:因为缺少一刀刺进活物的那种狠劲;因为害怕喷涌而出的那股鲜血。 “我正要,”杰克说。他走在头里,另两个看不到他的表情。“我正在找地方。下一回——” 他一把将刀子从刀鞘中拔出,猛地砍进一棵树的树干。下一回可不发菩萨心肠了。他狂野地环顾着四周,挑战似的看看有谁敢反驳。随后他们一下跑进了阳光里,不一会儿就边忙着找东西吃,边顺着孤岩走向平台去开会了。 Chapter 2 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 down there."   They assented. Piggy opened his mouth to speak, caught Jack's eye and shut it again. Jack held out his hands for the conch and stood up, holding the delicate thing carefully in his sooty hands.   "I agree with Ralph. We've got to have rules and obey them. After all, we're not savages. We're English, and the English are best at everything. So we've got to do the right things."   He turned to Ralph.   "Ralph, I'll split up the choir--my hunters, that is--into groups, and we'll be responsible for keeping the fire going--"   This generosity brought a spatter of applause from the boys, so that Jack grinned at them, then waved the conch for silence.   "We'll let the fire burn out now. Who would see smoke at night-time, anyway? And we can start the fire again whenever we like. Altos, you can keep the fire going this week, and trebles the next--"   The assembly assented gravely.   "And we'll be responsible for keeping a lookout too. If we see a ship out there"--they followed the direction of his bony arm with their eyes--"we'll put green branches on. Then there'll be more smoke."   They gazed intently at the dense blue of the horizon, as if a little silhouette might appear there at any moment.   The sun in the west was a drop of burning gold that slid nearer and nearer the sill of the world. All at once they were aware of the evening as the end of light and warmth.   Roger took the conch and looked round at them gloomily.   "I've been watching the sea. There hasn't been the trace of a ship. Perhaps we'll never be rescued."   A murmur rose and swept away. Ralph took back the conch.   "I said before we'll be rescued sometime. We've just got to wait, that's all."   Daring, indignant, Piggy took the conch.   "That's what I said! I said about our meetings and things and then you said shut up--"   His voice lifted into the whine of virtuous recrimination. They stirred and began to shout him down.   "You said you wanted a small fire and you been and built a pile like a hayrick. If I say anything," cried Piggy, with bitter realism, "you say shut up; but if Jack or Maurice or Simon--"   He paused in the tumult, standing, looking beyond them and down the unfriendly side of the mountain to the great patch where they had found dead wood. Then he laughed so strangely that they were hushed, looking at the flash of his spectacles in astonishment. They followed his gaze to find the sour joke.   "You got your small fire all right."   Smoke was rising here and there among the creepers that festooned the dead or dying trees. As they watched, a flash of fire appeared at the root of one wisp, and then the smoke thickened. Small flames stirred at the trunk of a tree and crawled away through leaves and brushwood, dividing and increasing. One patch touched a tree trunk and scrambled up like a bright squirrel. The smoke increased, sifted, rolled outwards. The squirrel leapt on the wings of the wind and clung to another standing tree, eating downwards. Beneath the dark canopy of leaves and smoke the fire laid hold on the forest and began to gnaw. Acres of black and yellow smoke rolled steadily toward the sea. At the sight of the flames and the irresistible course of the fire, the boys broke into shrill, excited cheering. The flames, as though they were a kind of wild life, crept as a jaguar creeps on its belly toward a line of birch-like saplings that fledged an outcrop of the pink rock. They flapped at the first of the trees, and the branches grew a brief foliage of fire. The heart of flame leapt nimbly across the gap between the trees and then went swinging and flaring along the whole row of them. Beneath the capering boys a quarter of a mile square of forest was savage with smoke and flame. The separate noises of the fire merged into a drum-roll that seemed to shake the mountain.   "You got your small fire all right."   Startled, Ralph realized that the boys were falling still and silent, feeling the beginnings of awe at the power set free below them. The knowledge and the awe made him savage.   "Oh, shut up!"   "I got the conch," said Piggy, in a hurt voice. "I got a right to speak."   They looked at him with eyes that lacked interest in what they saw, and cocked ears at the drum-roll of the fire. Piggy glanced nervously into hell and cradled the conch.   "We got to let that burn out now. And that was our firewood."   He licked his lips.   "There ain't nothing we can do. We ought to be more careful. I'm scared--"   Jack dragged his eyes away from the fire.   "You're always scared. Yah--Fatty!"   "I got the conch," said Piggy bleakly. He turned to Ralph. "I got the conch, ain't I Ralph?"   Unwillingly Ralph turned away from the splendid, awful sight.   "What's that?"   "The conch. I got a right to speak."   The twins giggled together.   "We wanted smoke--"   "Now look--!"   A pall stretched for miles away from the island. All the boys except Piggy started to giggle; presently they were shrieking with laughter.   Piggy lost his temper.   "I got the conch! Just you listen! The first thing we ought to have made was shelters down there by the beach. It wasn't half cold down there in the night. But the first time Ralph says 'fire' you goes howling and screaming up this here mountain. Like a pack of kids!"   By now they were listening to the tirade.   "How can you expect to be rescued if you don't put first things first and act proper?"   He took off his glasses and made as if to put down the conch; but the sudden motion toward it of most of the older boys changed his mind. He tucked the shell under his arm, and crouched back on a rock.   "Then when you get here you build a bonfire that isn't no use. Now you been and set the whole island on fire. Won't we look funny if the whole island burns up? Cooked fruit, that's what we'll have to eat, and roast pork. And that's nothing to laugh at! You said Ralph was chief and you don't give him time to think. Then when he says something you rush off, like, like--"   He paused for breath, and the fire growled at them.   "And that's not all. Them kids. The little 'uns. Who took any notice of 'em? Who knows how many we got?"   Ralph took a sudden step forward.   "I told you to. I told you to get a list of names!"   "How could I," cried Piggy indignantly, "all by myself? They waited for two minutes, then they fell in the sea; they went into the forest; they just scattered everywhere. How was I to know which was which?"   Ralph licked pale lips.   "Then you don't know how many of us there ought to be?"   "How could I with them little 'uns running round like insects? Then when you three came back, as soon as you said make a fire, they all ran away, and I never had a chance--"   "That's enough!" said Ralph sharply, and snatched back the conch. "If you didn't you didn't."   "--then you come up here an' pinch my specs--"   Jack turned on him.   "You shut up!"   "--and them little 'uns was wandering about down there where the fire is. How d'you know they aren't still there?"   Piggy stood up and pointed to the smoke and flames. A murmur rose among the boys and died away.   Something strange was happening to Piggy, for he was gasping for breath.   "That little 'un--" gasped Piggy--"him with the mark on his face, I don't see him. Where is he now?"   The crowd was as silent as death.   "Him that talked about the snakes. He was down there--"   A tree exploded in the fire like a bomb. Tall swathes of creepers rose for a moment into view, agonized, and went down again. The little boys screamed at them.   "Snakes! Snakes! Look at the snakes!"   In the west, and unheeded, the sun lay only an inch or two above the sea. Their faces were lit redly from beneath. Piggy fell against a rock and clutched it with both hands.   "That little 'un that had a mark on his face--where is--he now? I tell you I don't see him."   The boys looked at each other fearfully, unbelieving.   "--where is he now?"   Ralph muttered the reply as if in shame. "Perhaps he went back to the, the--" Beneath them, on the unfriendly side of the mountain, the drum-roll continued. 第二章 山上的火焰 海螺一被拉尔夫吹完,平台就站满了人。这次聚会跟上午举行过的那次不同。下午的阳光从平台的另一侧斜射进来,大多数孩子的皮肤被炙热的太阳光所灼伤,他们穿上了自己的衣服。 而合唱队,不象一个团体那样引人注目了,仍将斗篷扔在一边。 拉尔夫身体的左侧朝着太阳坐在一根倒下的树干上。他的右面是合唱队的大多数成员;他的左面是这次疏散前相互陌生的稍大的孩子;他的前面是蹲坐在草地上的小孩子们。 此刻变得安静了。带粉红斑点的米色贝壳被拉尔夫提到了自己的膝盖上,一阵突如其来的微风轻轻吹过平台。 他拿不定主意站好还是坐好。他侧眼朝左面、朝洗澡的那个水潭方向瞧瞧。猪崽子就坐在身边一言不发。 拉尔夫清清嗓子。 “那就这样吧!”他随即发现自己能顺利地说下去,解释清自己必须说的话。 他一手捋捋自己金黄的头发,一面说道:“我们在一个岛上。我们到过山顶,看到四面都是海水。我们到达的只是一个荒岛,荒无人烟,没有生机。”杰克插嘴说:“我们得有一支队伍——去打猎。猎野猪——” “对呀!这岛上有野猪。”他们三人全都忙着试图传递一种感受,一种看到过肉色有生命的东西在藤蔓中挣扎的感受。 “我们看见——” “吱喳乱叫——” “它逃脱了——” “我还没来得及下手——但是——下一回!”杰克猛的将刀劈进一枝树干,挑战似的朝四下瞧瞧。 会议又继续下去。 “大家都清楚,”拉尔夫说,“咱们需要有人去打猎、去弄肉。另外一件事。” 膝盖上的贝壳被他举起,他环顾着一张张光影斑驳的面孔。 “一个大人也没有。咱们只好自己照顾自己。” 会上一片唧唧喳喳,随之恢复平静。 “还有件事。咱们必须象在学校里那样来个‘举手发言’,不能许多人同时发言。”他把海螺举到面前,打量着海螺嘴。 “谁要发言我就将海螺给谁。” “海螺?” “这贝壳就叫海螺。要发言的人就拿着海螺说话。” “可是——” “瞧——” “他的发言不能被任何人打断,除了我。”杰克起身站起来。 “咱们要作些规定!”他激动地高叫道。“规定许多条!谁要是违反这些条条——” “喂——哦!” “真带劲!” “好啊!” “干吧!” 拉尔夫感到有谁把海螺从他膝上拿起。 接着猪崽子兜着那只米色的大贝壳站了起来,欢叫声消失了。 杰克还站着,疑惑不定地瞥了拉尔夫一眼,后者却在笑嘻嘻地轻拍着一根圆木。 杰克只好坐了下来。 猪崽子一面在衬衫上擦着刚摘下的眼镜,一面眼睛眨巴眨巴地看着与会者。 “拉尔夫被你们妨碍了。你们不让他抓住关键的事情。”他停顿一下以引起大家的重视。 “谁知道咱们在这儿?呃?” “在飞机场会有人知道。” “带喇叭那东西的大人——” “我爸爸。” 猪崽子把眼镜戴上。 “任何人都不知道咱们在什么地方,”猪崽子说道。 他的脸色更加苍白,呼吸更加局促。 “他们好象知道咱们要上哪儿;好象不知道。他们不知道咱们现在哪儿,因为咱们根本没到过目的地。” 他张口结舌地瞧着大家,然后摇晃着身子坐下。 拉尔夫把海螺从猪崽子手里拿回来。“这个就是我打算要说的,”他接着说,“当你们全都,全都……”他望着大伙儿全神贯注的表情。 “击落的飞机着火了。没人知道咱们在哪儿。咱们也许会在这儿呆很长时间。” 此时鸦雀无声,大家连猪崽子扑哧扑哧的呼吸声都能听见。 阳光斜射进来,金色的阳光铺满了半个平台。环礁湖上的轻风连续不断,就象追逐着自己尾巴的小猫,夺路越过平台,窜进森林。拉尔夫把垂在前额上的一绺金发往后一捋。 “那咱们只好长时间的呆在这儿。” 没人吱声。拉尔夫突然咧嘴笑起来。 “这个岛多棒啊!我们——杰克、西蒙和我——我们爬过山。这个岛好极了!有吃有喝的,还有——” “各种山岩” “蓝蓝的野花——” 有点儿恢复过来的猪崽子指指拉尔夫手里的海螺,杰克和西蒙不出声了。 拉尔夫继续说道:“咱们在岛上等的时候可以玩个痛快。” 他不断地作着手势。“就象在书里写的一模一样。” 一下就爆发出一阵喧嚷声。 “金银岛——” “燕子号人和亚马逊号人——” “珊瑚岛——” 拉尔夫把海螺挥舞着。 “这是咱们的岛。一个美好的岛!在大人找来之前,咱们可以在这儿尽情玩耍。”杰克将海螺拿到手中。 “有野猪,”他说。“有吃的,沿那边过去的小溪里可以去洗澡——样样都不缺。还有人发现别的东西吗?” 他把海螺给拉尔夫,坐了下来。 显然没人看到别的东西。 一个持反对意见的小孩被稍大一点儿的孩子发现了。 有群小孩怂恿他出来,可他不肯。 这个小孩是个小不点儿,小得象只虾米,大概六岁,由于一块紫红的胎记使他的一侧脸孔模糊不清。 此刻他站着,在众目睽睽的眼光下显得不知所措,他用一只脚趾头往下钻弄着粗壮的野草。 他嘟嘟喃喃,几乎要哭了出来。 别的小孩低声嘟哝着,可态度却挺严肃,他们把他推向拉尔夫。 “好吧,”拉尔夫说道,“那就来说吧!” 小男孩心慌意乱地四下张望着。 “快说吧!” 小男孩伸出双手要把海螺拿走,与会的孩子们大笑大嚷起来,为此他马上缩回双手,哭开了。 “让他拿海螺!”猪崽子喊道。 “让他拿!”拉尔夫示意他将海螺拿起来,可随之一阵笑声把小男孩的声音淹没了。 猪崽子跪在他身边,一手按在大海螺上,听他讲,并向其余的人作出解释。 “他要知道你们将如何处置蛇样的东西。” 拉尔夫笑了,别的孩子也跟着笑了。 小男孩身体蜷缩成一团。 “给我们讲讲蛇样的东西。” “现在他说那是只小野兽。” “小野兽?” “蛇样的东西。好大好大。他见过。” “在哪儿?” “在林子里。” 不知是微风飘荡,还是夕阳西下树木底下已有阵阵的凉意。 孩子们感到了这点,骚动起来。 “在这么大点的岛上不可能有小野兽、蛇样的东西,”拉尔夫好心地解释道。 “象非洲、象印度,只有在大地方,才找得到那种东西。”一阵喃喃细语声过后,接着是一阵庄重的点头。 “他说小野兽在黑暗中出来。” “那他就没看见!”一阵笑声、欢闹声。 “你们听见吗?他说那东西能在黑暗中被看到——” “他仍说见过小野兽。那东西来来回回好几次,要吃掉他——” “他在做梦呢。”随后哄堂大笑。 拉尔夫向四周环顾,看着每一张面孔,寻求大家的支持。 大点的孩子们赞同拉尔夫;可小孩子中却有很多人表示怀疑,单靠推理式的保证是不能使他们信服的。 “他准是做恶梦了。因为老在这些藤蔓中徘徊。”孩子们都庄重的点头表示知道恶梦是怎么回事。 “他说见过野兽、蛇样的东西。他问今晚它会不会再次出没。” “可根本没小野兽呀!” “他说小野兽在早上变成绳子样的东西挂在树枝上,不知道今儿晚上能不能再来。” “可根本没有小野兽呀!” 此刻所有的笑声都消失了,大伙儿面容肃然地瞧着他。 拉尔夫双手捋着头发,虽很开心但却恼怒地注视着这个小男孩。海螺被杰克一把抢过。 “当然拉尔夫说得对。没有蛇样的东西。如果真有蛇我们就把它逮住杀掉。我们正要去猎野猪,为大伙儿搞点肉。我们也要去打蛇呢——” “可实在没有蛇呀!” “我们打猎时会搞清楚的。”拉尔夫恼了,一时没了主意。他感到自己面对着某种不可捉摸的东西。而看到他的眼睛又是那样的全神贯注,毫无幽默感。 “可实在没有野兽呀!”从拉尔夫内部涌上来的某种力量迫使他又大声地强调这一点。 “可我告诉你们野兽不在这儿!” 与会者一片沉默。拉尔夫又把海螺举起,他一想到自己接下去要说的话,就转怒为喜了。 “咱们现在来商量最重要的事情。我一直在思索。就是在我们几个爬山时也在想。” 他向另外两个会意地咧嘴笑笑。“刚才在海滩上也在想。我想的就是,咱们玩,也不要忘了得救的事儿。” 与会者表示赞同的热情呼声象热浪那样冲击着他,将他的话打断,他想了想后又说:“咱们要得救,当然咱们会得救。” 一派喧闹声响起。这种只是出于拉尔夫的新的权威给大家带来了光明和欢乐,并非是有什么根据的直率的断论。 拉尔夫只好挥舞海螺以示安静,让大伙儿继续听他说。 “我父亲在海军里。他说已经没什么岛屿人们不知道的了。他说女王有个大房间,装满地图,世界上所有的岛都画在那上面。所以女王一定会有这个岛的地图的。” 一片欢天喜地的声音又响起了。 “早晚会有船派到这儿。没准儿还是我爸爸的船呢。大家等着,咱们会得救。”他为了强调而停顿了一下。 他的话给与会者带来了一种安全感。他们本来就喜欢拉尔夫,而现在更尊敬他了。 大伙儿自发地开始拍手叫好,一会儿掌声响彻整个平台。拉尔夫一阵脸红,他侧眼看到猪崽子的钦羡之情暴露无遗,而在另一侧看到杰克在嘻嘻地傻笑,表示他也知道怎么鼓掌。 拉尔夫挥挥海螺。 “停下!等一等!听我说!”他在安静的气氛中兴高采烈地继续说道:“还有件事。船只经过岛的附近时,船上的人不一定会注意到咱们。因此为了帮助他们找到咱们必须在山顶上升起烟来。咱们一定要生堆火。” “一堆火!生一堆火!”一半孩子立刻站了起来。 杰克在当中鼓噪着,一时忘记拿海螺了。“来吧!跟我来!” 棕榈树下的一片空地充满了孩子们的欢呼声。拉尔夫也站了起来,大叫安静,可没人听他的。人群一下子都一窝蜂地跑向岛的一端,——跟着杰克跑了。甚至连最小的孩子们也跑起来,踩着断枝落叶,拼命地跑着。留下拉尔夫拿着海螺,此外就只剩下了猪崽子。 猪崽子的呼吸差不多完全恢复正常。 “一群小孩儿!”他轻蔑地说。“一举一动都充满了孩子气!”拉尔夫踌躇地看着猪崽子,把海螺搁到树干上。 “我打赌是吃茶点的时候了,”猪崽子说。 “真不知他们跑到那山上去想干什么?”他略带敬意地抚摸着海螺,随后停下来抬头仰望。 “拉尔夫!嘿!你上哪儿?” 拉尔夫已经把第一层断裂面爬过去了。 他前面老长一段路都留下了孩子们咔嚓咔嚓地踩着枝叶的声音和欢笑声。猪崽子用不满的眼光看着他。 “象一群小孩儿——”他叹了口气,弯下腰系紧鞋带。 蜂拥而去的人群的噪声随着他们上山而渐渐远去。然后,猪崽子带着一种长者不得不跟上孩子愚蠢的胡闹而作出牺牲的表情,他把海螺捡起来,转向森林,开始择路翻过起伏不定的孤岩。 在另一侧的山顶下有块平坦的森林。拉尔夫无意中又做了个倒放着的杯子的手势。 “那下面有咱们许多柴火。”杰克点点头,用牙齿咬住下嘴唇。 一侧较陡峭的山,在距离他们脚下约一百英尺处开始,有块地方好象特地设计好了来放燃料似的。 在潮湿的暑压之下,因为缺少足够的泥土供树木生长,而使它们过早地倒下腐烂了:藤蔓盘缠,在底下托着枯树,新的树苗夺路而长。 杰克向已站好的合唱队转去。他们将黑帽子滑向一侧戴着,盖住一只耳朵,就象带着贝雷帽。 “咱们要搞一个柴火堆。来吧!” 他们找出最适合的下坡路,开始用力地拖拉枯树残枝。已到山顶的小孩子们也跟着滑了下来,除了猪崽子一人外,每个人都在忙碌。 树木大多数都已腐烂不堪,一拉就碎,木屑四飞,还有纷扬的树虱和烂物;可也有些将树干原根拉出来。 双胞胎萨姆和埃里克先找到一根可能会是原根的圆木,但他们搬不动,拉尔夫、杰克、西蒙、罗杰和莫里斯来插手帮忙。 接着他们把那棵样子古怪的枯树一点点抬到岩石上,把它倒在了柴火堆上。 每一群孩子都多少加了点柴火,这样柴火堆越来越高。 又一个来回时拉尔夫发现自己正和杰克一块儿扛一根大树枝,他们俩共同承受着这个重物,不由互相咧嘴而笑。 在微风中、在欢叫中、在斜射到高山上的阳光中,再次散发出一种魅力,一种亲密无间、大胆冒险和令人满足的光辉,一种奇妙而无形的光辉。 “真有点吃不消。”杰克露齿笑着回答:“咱们俩能扛得动。” 他们俩一块儿竭力把树枝扛着,摇晃着爬上了最后一段陡峭的山路。 他们俩一块儿哼着一!二!三!大树枝被砰地扔到大柴火堆上。 随后他们俩又充满了胜利的喜悦,欢笑着走回去,于是拉尔夫情不自禁的来了个拿大顶。 在他们下面,孩子们仍在干着活,尽管有些小家伙已经失去兴趣,在这片新的森林里寻找起野果来。 此刻双胞胎出乎人们的意料,捧着一抱抱枯树叶爬上山来,把叶子倾倒在柴火堆上。 感到柴火堆够高了,孩子们一个个都不再回去拿,他们站在粉红色的、嶙峋的山顶石之中。呼吸现在平静了,身上的汗水也干了。 拉尔夫和杰克互相瞅瞅,大伙儿站在边上干等着他们。他们俩产生起一种惭愧的感觉,也不知道用什么语言来表达这种心情。 红涨着脸的拉尔夫先开了口。“你来怎么样?”他清清嗓子继续说:“你来点火好吗?” 于是尴尬的局面出现了,杰克的脸也红了。他开始含糊不清地喃喃而语。“你拿两根树枝互相摩擦。你摩擦——” 他瞥了一下拉尔夫,拉尔夫却不打自供了无能,他脱口而出。 “谁有火柴?” “你做张弓,旋动那枝箭取火,”罗杰说道。 他搓手模仿着,“嘶嘶。嘶嘶。”一阵微风拂过。 随之而来的是穿着短裤和衬衫的猪崽子,从森林中他谨慎地费力地走了出来,夕阳的亮光把他的眼镜反射得一闪一闪的。 海螺被他的胳膊夹着。 拉尔夫朝他喊道:“猪崽子!你忘了带火柴?” 别的孩子跟着嚷嚷,使得山上一片嗡嗡响。 猪崽子摇摇头,来到柴火堆旁。“嗳呀!这么大堆是你们搞的?是不是?” 杰克突然用手指着,说:“他的眼镜——拿眼镜作聚光镜!” 猪崽子来不及脱身就给团团围住了。 “嘿——放我走!”正当猪崽子发出恐怖的尖叫,杰克手快的将眼镜从他脸上抢走。 “当心!还我眼镜!我什么也看不见了!你要把海螺给打碎了!” 他被拉尔夫用胳膊肘推向一边,跪在柴火堆旁。 “站开,别把光挡住。”一阵推推拉拉,再加上瞎起劲的大叫大嚷。 眼镜片被拉尔夫前前后后,上下左右地移来移去,夕阳的一道亮闪闪的白光落到一块烂木头上。 几乎同时升起了一缕轻烟,把拉尔夫呛得干咳起来。 杰克也跪下轻轻地吹着,于是轻烟飘散开去,接着烟更浓了,有一小团火苗终于出现了。 在明亮的阳光下几乎看不见的火苗卷住了一根细树枝,火越来越大,火光灿灿的闪现着,又窜上一根树枝,发出噼哩叭啦的尖响的爆裂声。孩子们为火苗越窜越高而欢腾。 “我的眼镜!”猪崽子号叫着。“还我眼镜!” 拉尔夫远离柴火堆一点,眼镜被塞到猪崽子摸索着的手里。 猪崽子的声音慢慢变成了叽哩咕噜的自怨自诉。“弄得这么脏。我戴着连手都看不见——” 孩子们跳起了欢快的舞。 柴火堆那么腐烂不堪,现在象引燃物那么干燥,一根根大树枝被黄金般的火焰大口地吞没着,熊熊的火苗窜到二十英尺,在空中不停地摇摆着。 火堆近处,热浪逼人,微风吹过,带起一条火星。在烈火中一根根树干蜷缩为灰白的余烬。 拉尔夫叫喊道:“再要柴火!大家全去找柴火!” 此刻生活变成了一场同火的竞赛,孩子们四散奔进了稍在高处一点的森林。 要保持一面迎风飘扬的美好的火之大旗已成当务之急,没一个人再顾得上别的。即使连最小的孩子们也拿来小片的木头投进火堆,除非果子把他们吸引住。 空气流动快得引起一股轻风,因此下风头和上风头有了明显的界限。 一头空气凉嗖嗖的,但另一头火堆中却冲出灼人的热浪,一瞬间连头发都能烫着。 孩子们感到了习习晚风吹拂在湿漉漉的脸上,停下享受这股清凉,于是便意识到自己已精疲力竭。 他们在乱石堆中的阴影里扑倒。 火苗迅速减弱下去,随后火堆渐渐坍下去了,内中不时地响起一种焦炭轻轻的爆裂声,倾斜开来,随风飘去。孩子们象狗似的喘着粗气躺在地上。 拉尔夫把搁在前臂上的脑袋抬起来。 “没用啊。”罗杰不住地朝灼热的灰烬吐唾沫。 “你这是什么意思?” “没有烟,只有火啊!”猪崽子已经安安稳稳地坐在两块岩石当中,海螺被放在膝盖上。 “咱们没生成火,”他说,“有什么用!象这样烧的火堆咱们又没法维持,再怎么试也不行!” “胖子你太费心思啦,”杰克鄙视地说。“你只会干坐。” “咱们用过他的眼镜,”西蒙边说,黑污污的脸颊边被他的前臂擦着。“他那样也算帮了忙。” “我拿着海螺,”猪崽子恼怒地说道。“你们让我发言!” “在山顶上时海螺不算数,”杰克说,“你还是闭嘴吧!” “我把海螺拿在手里。” “放上青树枝,”莫里斯说道。“那是生烟的最好法子。” “我拿着海螺——” 杰克恶狠狠地转脸说:“你住口!” 猪崽子蔫了。 拉尔夫把海螺从他那儿拿过来,环顾了一下周围的孩子们。 “咱们得派专人看管火堆。要是哪一天有船经过那儿,”——他挥臂指向笔直的海岸线——要是咱们有个点燃的信号,他们就会来带咱们走。还有件事。咱们该再作些规定。海螺在哪儿吹响,就在那儿开会。山上这儿同下面那儿都一样。”大伙儿都同意了。 猪崽子张嘴要说,瞥见杰克的眼神,又哑口无言了。 海螺被杰克伸手拿过去,他站起来,乌黑的手小心地捧着易碎的海螺。 “拉尔夫说的我同意。咱们必须有规定照着办。咱们毕竟不是野蛮人。咱们是英国人,英国人干哪样都干得最棒。所以咱们干哪样都得象个样。” 他转向拉尔夫。 “拉尔夫——合唱队将被我——我的猎手们拆散开来,也就是说——分成小组,我们负责看管生火堆的事——” 慷慨大度的举动引起了孩子们一阵喝彩声,杰克因此咧嘴笑看着大家,随后将海螺挥动以示安静。 “我们现在就让火把它烧完。反正晚上有谁会看到烟呢?而且,我们只要喜欢,随时都可以再把它生起来。奥尔托斯——这星期你来管生火,下星期再增加到三个人——” 与会者庄重地一致同意。 “而且设个观察哨很有必要。要是我们看到那儿有船,”——大伙儿顺着杰克臂骨粗突的手臂所指的方向望过去——当青树枝被我们放上去时烟就更浓了。” 大家聚精会神盯着深蓝的海平线,似乎那儿随时都可能出现一个小小的船影。 西下的夕阳一点点滑向海平线,就象一滴燃烧着的金子。 当阳光和温度趋弱之际,他们意识到了傍晚姗姗来临。 罗杰把海螺拿起来,神色沮丧地环顾着大伙儿。 “我一直盯着海看,连船的影子也没有。咱们得救的希望是多么渺茫。”一阵嘁嘁喳喳的咕哝之声过后,然后又是一片静寂。 拉尔夫取回了海螺。“我以前说过会有人来救咱们的。咱们只要耐心地等着就行了。” 猪崽子勇敢地、怒气冲冲地将海螺拿过去。“那就是我说的!我说过开会呀,还有别的事呀,可随后你们都要我住口——”他的嗓门大得变成了一种道德上的责问,变成了一种哀诉。 大伙儿骚动起来,开始轰他下去。“你们说要一个小火堆,但是却弄了个象干草堆那样的大堆。要是我说什么,”以一种认识到无情现实的痛苦表情的猪崽子叫喊道,“你们就说住口住口,可要是杰克、莫里斯或西蒙——”他激动地说不下去,站在那里,眼光越过他们,俯视着山的冷漠的一侧,直看到他们刚才找到枯树残枝的那块美好的地方。 随后猪崽子诡秘地笑起来,大伙儿则默不作声,吃惊地瞧着他那闪光的眼镜。 他们追随着他那专注的眼光看去,想发现这带敌意的冷笑究竟是什么意思。 “你们的确有了小火堆呢。” 从枯死或即将枯死的树木上垂下的藤蔓中,正到处冒着烟。 他们看到,一闪一亮的火光在一缕烟的底部出现了,随后烟越冒越浓。 小小的火苗在一株树干上跳动着,又悄悄地爬过簇叶和灌丛蔓延开去,火势越来越猛。一条火舌舔到另一根树干,象喜悦的松鼠攀缘直上。烟正在四散扩冲。 火之松鼠依着风势,跃攀上一棵挺立的树木,又从上往下吞噬着。在黑的树叶和浓烟笼罩之下,遍地的大火紧贴地面抓住森林张口吞噬。有成片的黑黄色的不断地浓烟滚滚涌向大海。 看着熊熊的烈焰,看着它不可抗拒的势头,孩子们爆发出一阵阵激动的欢呼声,一阵阵尖叫声。火焰仿佛凶禽猛兽,腹部贴地象美洲豹似的匍匐前进,接着扑向一排桦树似地小树苗——密布在粉红色的岩石露头上的小树苗。 大火扑闪着向挡道的树木蔓延,树上的枝叶随火而尽。火势中心的烈焰轻捷地跃过树木之间的间隙,然后摇曳而行,兀地一闪就点燃了一整排树木。孩子们欢天喜地,在他们的下面,四分之一平方英里的一块森林发狂似的冒着浓烟烈焰,让人胆颤心惊。一阵阵噼噼剥剥的火声汇成了似乎要震撼山岳的擂鼓似的隆隆声。 “你们总算有了自己的小火堆。”情绪低落的孩子们变得默不作声,拉尔夫吃惊地意识到他们对自己释放出的那种力量开始产生一种敬畏感。这种想法和恐惧使他勃然大怒。 “哼,住口!” “把海螺给我拿着,”猪崽子用受伤的口吻说道。“我有权发言。” 大伙儿看着他,以一种不屑的眼光看着他,他们竖起耳朵倾听着擂鼓似的隆隆火声。 猪崽子怯懦地瞥一眼那凶猛的大火,海螺被紧兜在怀里。 “现在只好让那林子烧光了。那可是咱们的柴火呢。”他舔舔嘴唇。“咱们真是无计可施了。咱们应该更小心些。我真怕——” 杰克将视线移开火海。“你老是怕呀怕呀。唷——胖子!” “把海螺给我拿着,”猪崽子脸色苍白地说。 他转向拉尔夫。“拉尔夫,我拿着海螺,是不是?” 拉尔夫不情愿地转过身来,仍留恋着那既光彩夺目又令人畏惧的景象。 “怎么啦?” “海螺。发言的权力也有我一份。” 双胞胎一起咯咯地发笑。 “我们要烟火——” “瞧哪——”一股烟幕延伸出岛外达数英里之遥。 除了猪崽子以外,所有的孩子都傻傻地笑开了,一下子他们又笑又叫,兴高采烈。 猪崽子冒火了。“把海螺给我拿着!你们听着!咱们该做的头一件事就是在那下面的海滩边造几间茅屋。夜里在那下面可冷呢!但拉尔夫刚说个‘火’字,你们就乱叫乱嚷地,扯开嗓门儿爬到山上来。就象一帮小孩儿!” 他那激烈的长篇大论引起大家的注意。 “如果你们不肯急事先办、合理行动,又怎么能盼望得救呢?”他取下眼镜,作了个要将海螺放下的姿势,但是大多数大孩子朝海螺突然一瞥又使猪崽子改变了主意。海螺被他往胳膊下一塞,又蹲伏到一块岩石上。 “后来你们又到这儿搞了个根本没用的大篝火。这下可把整个岛都点着了。要是整个岛化为灰烬,才真是可笑哩!咱们只好吃煮水果,还有烤猪肉。那可不是闹着玩的!你们说拉尔夫是个头,却不给他时间多想想。随后他说了句什么,你们就哄地一下跑了,就象、就象——” 他停下喘了口气,大火正朝着他们咆哮。“事情还没完呢。那些小孩儿们。那些小家伙。谁注意他们了?谁知道咱们有多少人?” 拉尔夫突然朝前一迈。“我早跟你讲过,要造份名单!” “我能做到吗?”猪崽子气愤地叫喊道,“全靠我一个人?他们待不了两分钟就跳到海里;要不就跑进森林;他们散得哪儿都是。他们的人和名字我怎么能一一对上号呢?” 拉尔夫把灰白的嘴唇舔舔。“你就不清楚咱们应该有多少人吗?” “那些象小虫子似的小东西到处乱跑,你说我怎么能跟上他们呢?后来你们三个就回来了,你一说要搞个火堆,他们全跑了开去,我根本就没有机会——” “随后你们就来到山上,在这儿抢走了我的眼镜——” “够了够了!”拉尔夫不耐烦地叫着,一把夺回了海螺。 “要是你不想干就别干。” 杰克向他转过身去。“你闭嘴!” “——那些小东西正在下面那有火堆的地方闲逛。你怎么能担保他们现在就在那儿?”猪崽子站起来把浓烈的烟火指了指。 孩子们一阵咕哝,又安静下来。猪崽子的神态显得有点异样,因为他呼吸紧张。 “那个小东西——”猪崽子气喘吁吁地说——“那个小男孩脸上带斑记,我没看见他。他到哪儿去了?” 人群静得象死一样。“那个小男孩说看见过蛇。他在那下面——” 大火中有一棵树象炸弹似的轰地炸裂开来。一条条高挂着的藤蔓刹时跃入眼帘,它们拼命地挣扎着,随之又垂荡下去。小孩子们看到后尖声大叫起来:“蛇!蛇呀!看蛇哪!” 西下的夕阳不知不觉之中,离海平面更近了。由下而上的阳光把孩子们的脸膛映衬得通红通红的。 猪崽子扑倒在一块岩石上,伸开双手紧抓着。 “那个脸上有斑记的小东西——眼下他可在——哪儿呀?我对你们说,我找不着他啦!”孩子们面面相觑,惊恐万状,心里很疑惑。 “——他眼下在哪儿?”拉尔夫似乎羞愧地喃喃答道:“估计他回到那,那——” 在他们下面,还有擂鼓似的隆隆火声在回荡。 Chapter 3 Huts on the Beach   Jack was bent double. He was down like a sprinter, his nose only a few inches from the humid earth. The tree trunks and the creepers that festooned them lost themselves in a green dusk thirty feet above him, and all about was the undergrowth. There was only the faintest indication of a trail here; a cracked twig and what might be the impression of one side of a hoof. He lowered his chin and stared at the traces as though he would force them to speak to him. Then dog-like, uncomfortably on all fours yet unheeding his discomfort, he stole forward five yards and stopped. Here was loop of creeper with a tendril pendant from a node. The tendril was polished on the underside; pigs, passing through the loop, brushed it with their bristly hide.   Jack crouched with his face a few inches away from this clue, then stared forward into the semi-darkness ofthe undergrowth. His sandy hair, considerably longer than it had been when they dropped in, was lighter now;and his bare back was a mass of dark freckles and peeling sunburn. A sharpened stick about five feet long trailed from his right hand, and except for a pair of tattered shorts held up by his knife-belt he was naked. He closed his eyes, raised his head and breathed in gently with flared nostrils, assessing the current of warm air for information. The forest and he were very still.   At length he let out his breath in a long sigh and opened his eyes. They were bright blue, eyes that in this frustration seemed bolting and nearly mad. He passed his tongue across dry lips and scanned the uncommunicative forest. Then again he stole forward and cast this way and that over the ground.   The silence of the forest was more oppressive than the heat, and at this hour of the day there was not even the whine of insects. Only when Jack himself roused a gaudy bird from a primitive nest of sticks was the silence shattered and echoes set ringing by a harsh cry that seemed to come out of the abyss of ages. Jack himself shrank at this cry with a hiss of indrawn breath, and for a minute became less a hunter than a furtive thing, ape-like among the tangle of trees. Then the trail, the frustration, claimed him again and he searched the ground avidly. By the trunk of a vast tree that grew pale flowers on its grey bark he checked, closed his eyes, and once more drew in the warm air; and this time his breath came short, there was even a passing pallor in his face, and then the surge of blood again. He passed like a shadow under the darkness of the tree and crouched, looking down at the trodden ground at his feet.   The droppings were warm. They lay piled among turned earth. They were olive green, smooth, and they steamed a little. Jack lifted his head and stared at the inscrutable masses of creeper that lay across the trail. Then he raised his spear and sneaked forward. Beyond the creeper, the trail joined a pig-run that was wide enough and trodden enough to be a path. The ground was hardened by an accustomed tread and as Jack rose to his full height he heard something moving on it. He swung back his right arm and hurled the spear with all his strength. From the pig-run came the quick, hard patter of hoofs, a castanet sound, seductive, maddening--the promise of meat. He rushed out of the undergrowth and snatched up his spear. The pattering of pig's trotters died away in the distance.   Jack stood there, streaming with sweat, streaked with brown earth, stained by all the vicissitudes of a day's hunting. Swearing, he turned off the trail and pushed his way through until the forest opened a little and instead of bald trunks supporting a dark roof there were light grey trunks and crowns of feathery palm. Beyond these was the glitter of the sea and he could hear voices. Ralph was standing by a contraption of palm trunks and leaves, a rude shelter that faced the lagoon and seemed very near to falling down. He did not notice when Jack spoke.   "Got any water?"   Ralph looked up, frowning, from the complication of leaves. He did not notice Jack even when he saw him.   "I said have you got any water? I'm thirsty." Ralph withdrew his attention from the shelter and realized Jack with a start.   "Oh, hullo. Water? There by the tree. Ought to be some left."   Jack took up a coconut shell that brimmed with fresh water from among a group that was arranged in the shade, and drank. The water splashed over his chin and neck and chest. He breathed noisily when he had finished.   "Needed that."   Simon spoke from inside the shelter.   "Up a bit."   Ralph turned to the shelter and lifted a branch with a whole tiling of leaves.   The leaves came apart and fluttered down. Simon's contrite face appeared in the hole.   "Sorry."   Ralph surveyed the wreck with distaste.   "Never get it done."   He flung himself down at Jack's feet. Simon remained, looking out of the hole in the shelter. Once down, Ralph explained.   "Been working for days now. And look!"   Two shelters were in position, but shaky. This one was a ruin.   "And they keep running off. You remember the meeting? How everyone was going to work hard until the shelters were finished?"   "Except me and my hunters--"   "Except the hunters. Well, the littluns are--"   He gesticulated, sought for a word.   "They're hopeless. The older ones aren't much better. D'you see? All day I've been working with Simon. No one else. They're off bathing, or eating, or playing."   Simon poked his head out carefully.   "You're chief. You tell 'em off."   Ralph lay flat and looked up at the palm trees and the sky.   "Meetings. Don't we love meetings? Every day. Twice a day. We talk." He got on one elbow. "I bet if I blew the conch this minute, they'd come running. Then we'd be, you know, very solemn, and someone would say we ought to build a jet, or a submarine, or a TV set. When the meeting was over they'd work for five minutes, then wander off or go hunting."   Jack flushed.   "We want meat."   "Well, we haven't got any yet. And we want shelters. Besides, the rest of your hunters came back hours ago. They've been swimming."   "I went on," said Jack. "I let them go. I had to go on. I--"   He tried to convey the compulsion to track down and kill that was swallowing him up.   "I went on. I thought, by myself--"   The madness came into his eyes again.   "I thought I might--kill."   "But you didn't."   "I thought I might."   Some hidden passion vibrated in Ralph's voice.   "But you haven't yet."   His invitation might have passed as casual, were it not for the undertone.   "You wouldn't care to help with the shelters, I suppose?"   "We want meat--"   "And we don't get it."   Now the antagonism was audible.   "But I shall! Next time! I've got to get a barb on this spear! We wounded a pig and the spear fell out. If we   could only make barbs--"   "We need shelters."   Suddenly Jack shouted in rage.   "Are you accusing--?"   "All I'm saying is we've worked dashed hard. That's all."   They were both red in the face and found looking at each other difficult. Ralph rolled on his stomach and began to play with the grass.   "If it rains like when we dropped in we'll need shelters all right. And then another thing. We need shelters because of the--"   He paused for a moment and they both pushed their anger away. Then he went on with the safe, changed subject.   "You've noticed, haven't you?"   Jack put down his spear and squatted.   "Noticed what?"   "Well. They're frightened."   He rolled over and peered into Jack's fierce, dirty face.   "I mean the way things are. They dream. You can hear 'em. Have you been awake at night?"   Jack shook his head.   "They talk and scream. The littluns. Even some of the others. As if--"   "As if it wasn't a good island."   Astonished at the interruption, they looked up at Simon's serious face.   "As if," said Simon, "the beastie, the beastie or the snake-thing, was real. Remember?"   The two older boys flinched when they heard the shameful syllable. Snakes were not mentioned now, were not mentionable.   "As if this wasn't a good island," said Ralph slowly. "Yes, that's right."   Jack sat up and stretched out his legs.   "They're batty."   "Crackers. Remember when we went exploring?" They grinned at each other, remembering the glamour of the first day. Ralph went on.   "So we need shelters as a sort of--"   "Home."   "That's right."   Jack drew up his legs, clasped his knees, and frowned in an effort to attain clarity.   "All the same--in the forest. I mean when you're hunting, not when you're getting fruit, of course, but when you're on your own--"   He paused for a moment, not sure if Ralph would take him seriously.   "Go on."   "If you're hunting sometimes you catch yourself feeling as if--" He flushed suddenly. "There's nothing in it of course. Just a feeling. But you can feel as if you're not hunting, but--being hunted, as if something's behind you all the time in the jungle."   They were silent again: Simon intent, Ralph incredulous and faintly indignant. He sat up, rubbing one shoulder with a dirty hand.   "Well, I don't know."   Jack leapt to his feet and spoke very quickly.   "That's how you can feel in the forest. Of course there's nothing in it. Only--only--"   He took a few rapid steps toward the beach, then came back.   "Only I know how they feel. See? That's all."   "The best thing we can do is get ourselves rescued."   Jack had to think for a moment before he could remember what rescue was.   "Rescue? Yes, of course! All the same, I'd like to catch a pig first--" He snatched up his spear and dashed it into the ground. The opaque, mad look came into his eyes again. Ralph looked at him critically through his tangle of fair hair.   "So long as your hunters remember the fire--"   "You and your fire!"   The two boys trotted down the beach, and, turning at the water's edge, looked back at the pink mountain. The trickle of smoke sketched a chalky line up the solid blue of the sky, wavered high up and faded. Ralph frowned.   "I wonder how far off you could see that."   "Miles."   "We don't make enough smoke."   The bottom part of the trickle, as though conscious of their gaze, thickened to a creamy blur which crept up the feeble column.   "They've put on green branches," muttered Ralph. "I wonder!" He screwed up his eyes and swung round to search the horizon.   "Got it!"   Jack shouted so loudly that Ralph jumped.   "What? Where? Is it a ship?"   But Jack was pointing to the high declivities that led down from the mountain to the flatter part of the island.   "Of course! They'll lie up there--they must, when the sun's too hot--"   Ralph gazed bewildered at his rapt face.   "--they get up high. High up and in the shade, resting during the heat, like cows at home--"   "I thought you saw a ship!"   "We could steal up on one--paint our faces so they wouldn't see--perhaps surround them and then--"   Indignation took away Ralph's control.   "I was talking about smoke! Don't you want to be rescued? All you can talk about is pig, pig, pig!"   "But we want meat!"   "And I work all day with nothing but Simon and you come back and don't even notice the huts!"   "I was working too--"   "But you like it!" shouted Ralph. "You want to hunt! While I--"   They faced each other on the bright beach, astonished at the rub of feeling. Ralph looked away first, pretending interest in a group of littluns on the sand. From beyond the platform came the shouting of the hunters in the swimming pool. On the end of the platform, Piggy was lying flat, looking down into the brilliant water.   "People don't help much."   He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were.   "Simon. He helps." He pointed at the shelters.   "All the rest rushed off. He's done as much as I have. Only--"   "Simon's always about."   Ralph stared back to the shelters with Jack by his side.   "Do a bit for you," muttered Jack, "before I have a bathe."   "Don't bother."   But when they reached the shelters Simon was not to be seen. Ralph put his head in the hole, withdrew it, and turned to Jack.   "He's buzzed off."   "Got fed up," said Jack, "and gone for a bathe."   Ralph frowned.   "He's queer. He's funny."   Jack nodded, as much for the sake of agreeing as anything, and by tacit consent they left the shelter and went toward the bathing pool.   "And then," said Jack, "when I've had a bathe and something to eat, I'll just trek over to the other side of the mountain and see if I can see any traces. Coming?"   "But the sun's nearly set!"   "I might have time---"   They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling, unable to communicate.   "If I could only get a pig!"   "I'll come back and go on with the shelter."   They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate. All the warm salt water of the bathing pool and the shouting and splashing and laughing were only just sufficient to bring them together again.      Simon was not in the bathing pool as they had expected.   When the other two had trotted down the beach to look back at the mountain he had followed them for a few yards and then stopped. He had stood frowing down at a pile of sand on the beach where somebody had been trying to build a little house or hut. Then he turned his back on this and walked into the forest with an air of purpose. He was a small, skinny boy, his chin pointed, and his eyes so bright they had deceived Ralph into thinking him delightfully gay and wicked. The coarse mop of black hair was long and swung down, almost concealing a low, broad forehead. He wore the remains of shorts and his feet were bare like Jack's. Always darkish in color, Simon was burned by the sun to a deep tan that glistened with sweat.   He picked his way up the scar, passed the great rock where Ralph had climbed on the first morning, then turned off to his right among the trees. He walked with an accustomed tread through the acres of fruit trees, where the least energetic could find an easy if unsatisfying meal. Flower and fruit grew together on the same tree and everywhere was the scent of ripeness and the booming of a million bees at pasture. Here the littluns who had run after him caught up with him. They talked, cried out unintelligibly, lugged him toward the trees. Then, amid the roar of bees in the afternoon sunlight, Simon found for them the fruit they could not reach, pulled off the choicest from up in the foliage, passed them back down to the endless, outstretched hands. When he had satisfied them he paused and looked round. The littluns watched him inscrutably over double handfuls of ripe fruit.   Simon turned away from them and went where the just perceptible path led him. Soon high jungle closed in. Tall trunks bore unexpected pale flowers all the way up to the dark canopy where life went on clamorously. The air here was dark too, and the creepers dropped their ropes like the rigging of foundered ships. His feet left prints in the soft soil and the creepers shivered throughout their lengths when he bumped them.   He came at last to a place where more sunshine fell. Since they had not so far to go for light the creepers had woven a great mat that hung at the side of an open space in the jungle; for here a patch of rock came close to the surface and would not allow more than little plants and ferns to grow. The whole space was walled with dark aromatic bushes, and was a bowl of heat and light. A great tree, fallen across one corner, leaned against the trees that still stood and a rapid climber flaunted red and yellow sprays right to the top.   Simon paused. He looked over his shoulder as Jack had done at the close ways behind him and glanced swiftly round to confirm that he was utterly alone. For a moment his movements were almost furtive. Then he bent down and wormed his way into the center of the mat. The creepers and the bushes were so close that he left his sweat on them and they pulled together behind him. When he was secure in the middle he was in a little cabin screened off from the open space by a few leaves. He squatted down, parted the leaves and looked out into the clearing. Nothing moved but a pair of gaudy butterflies that danced round each other in the hot air. Holding his breath he cocked a critical ear at the sounds of the island. Evening was advancing toward the island; the sounds of the bright fantastic birds, the bee-sounds, even the crying of the gulls that were returning to their roosts among the square rocks, were fainter. The deep sea breaking miles away on the reef made an undertone less perceptible than the susurration of the blood.   Simon dropped the screen of leaves back into place. The slope of the bars of honey-colored sunlight decreased; they slid up the bushes, passed over the green candle-like buds, moved up toward the canopy, and darkness thickened under the trees. With the fading of the light the riotous colors died and the heat and urgency cooled away. The candlebuds stirred. Their green sepals drew back a little and the white tips of the flowers rose delicately to meet the open air.   Now the sunlight had lifted clear of the open space and withdrawn from the sky. Darkness poured out, submerging the ways between the trees till they were dim and strange as the bottom of the sea. The candle-buds opened their wide white flowers glimmering under the light that pricked down from the first stars. Their scent spilled out into the air and took possession of the island. 第三章 茅屋在海滩上 杰克弓着身子象个短跑选手似的蹲在地上,鼻子与地面相差只有几英寸。在他头上三十英尺光景,树干和交织着垂挂下来的藤蔓在绿蒙蒙的暮色中混成一片;四周全是矮灌木丛。 在这儿踪迹只有蛛丝马迹可寻:一根断裂的树枝呀,一个可能是蹄子的一侧留下的印记呀。 他低着下巴,聚精会神地盯着这些痕迹,似乎想要强迫它们对他说出什么秘密。 随后杰克象狗似的四肢着地——这怪不舒服,可他并不这样认为,又悄悄地朝前爬了五码之后停下。 在这儿有个成圆圈形状的藤蔓,茎节上垂荡着卷须。卷须的下沿被磨得光光:那是硬毛密生的野猪在穿过藤圈时磨擦所造成的。 杰克蹲着身子,他的脸部只偏离这条线索几英寸。接着,他盯着前面若明若暗的矮灌木林丛。他淡茶色的头发,比他刚上岛那时可长多了,颜色也更淡了;毒辣的太阳射在他那布满黑雀斑的光背脊上。 他右手拖着一根长约五英尺的尖木棒,他只穿了一条用来佩刀的皮带所束着的一条破烂短裤,其它什么也没穿。 杰克闭上眼睛,抬起头,大张着鼻孔深深地呼吸,根据暖和的气流,想作一点判断。森林此时已万籁俱寂。 他终于睁开了眼睛,长长地叹了口气。蓝莹莹的眼睛这时仿佛因受到挫折而闪着怒火,有点儿发狂。他伸出舌头舔舔干裂的双唇,察看着万籁俱寂的森林。 然后又悄悄地向前,边在地上东寻西找。 森林的静谧比起暑热来更叫人恐惧,在这个时刻,就连各种昆虫的哀鸣都听不见。 只有当杰克从一个枝条搭成的老鸟窠里惊起一只花哨的鸟儿,才打破了宁静,似乎从远古时代里发出一声尖厉的鸟叫,又引起了阵阵的回声。 杰克被这声怪叫吓得倒抽一口冷气,缩作一团;片刻之间,与其说他是个猎手,倒不如说是个在乱树丛中鬼头鬼脑的猴子。 随后,痕迹和挫折促使他继续前进,他又不停地在地面上搜索起来。 在一棵灰树干上长着浅色花朵的大树旁,杰克突然停了下来,闭上眼睛,又吸了一口暖和的空气:这一次他因呼吸有点儿急促而使脸色变得苍白,随后热血又涌上来。 他低头察看脚下被踩踏过的土地,象幽灵似的蹲着身子,穿过树下的黑暗处。 在翻起的土中有热乎乎的粪便堆,光溜溜的,呈橄榄青色,还有点儿在冒气。 杰克抬起头来,睁大眼睛看着痕迹上面绕作一团的藤蔓。 然后他提起长矛,悄悄地前进。 穿出这团藤蔓,痕迹与一条野猪出没的路径相交;踩踏的痕迹已把这条路径变成了一条小道,宽度也够了。 地面经常被踩踏因而变得挺硬,杰克站直身子,他听见在小道上有东西走动。 他右臂朝后一摆,用尽浑身力气把长矛投出去。从野猪出没的路径传来一阵急促而猛烈的嗒嗒的蹄子声,一种响板似的声音,引人入胜又令人发狂——吃肉有盼头了。 他一把抓起长矛冲出矮灌木林丛。 野猪的快步声却已经消失在远处。 杰克汗如雨下地站在那儿,褐色的泥土横一条竖一条地沾在身上,一副打了一天猎的样子。 他嘴里嘟囔着骂人话,绕过痕迹处,在树丛中艰难地往前走,在一个稍微开阔一点的地方停了下来;淡褐色树干和叶冠茂盛的棕榈树被支撑着的浓黑树顶的光树干所取代。 之外是碧波荡漾的大海,他又能把其他孩子们的声音听到了。 拉尔夫正站在一个用棕榈枝叶搭起来的新鲜玩意儿旁边,这是个面朝环礁湖的简陋的窝棚,艰难地挺立着。 杰克开口说话时,拉尔夫还没有看到他。 “还有水吗?”从乱糟糟的树叶中拉尔夫把头一仰,皱着眉头。 甚至当他看着杰克时,注意力还在分散着。 “我说你有没有水哪?我口渴。” 拉尔夫的注意力从窝棚上集中过来,惊诧于那是杰克。 “噢,你好。水吗?在树那边。该还剩下点吧。”一批椰子壳在树荫里排列着,杰克拿起一只盛满清水的,咕嘟咕嘟地一饮而尽。 水直流到他的下巴、头颈和胸上。喝完水后他呼哧呼哧地喘着气。 “要那个。”西蒙从窝棚里说:“稍高一点。” 拉尔夫转向窝棚,往上挪了挪那根上面满是当瓦片用的带绿叶的树枝。 树叶一分开,就扬扬洒洒地纷纷坠地,空洞中露出西蒙那张懊恼的面孔。 “对不起。”拉尔夫把这堆破烂上下打量一下,挺倒胃口。 “老是盖不好。”他猛地倒在了杰克脚下。 西蒙仍留在窝棚里,从空洞中朝外面看。拉尔夫一躺下就解释道:“好几天没歇着了。可瞧瞧!” 两个窝棚虽然已竖了起来,但是摇摇晃晃的。这一个却成了一堆废料。 “然而他们总是满处的跑。你记得那次会吗?为了造好窝棚,每个人都得要使劲干才行呀!” “我跟我的猎手可除外——” “除去猎手。可是,小家伙们——”他打着手势,思量着用什么字眼。“他们简直无可救药。稍大一点的也好不了多少。你看见吗?我跟西蒙整天在一起干活。别人一个也没有。他们跑开洗澡呀、吃呀、玩呀。” 西蒙小心地伸出头来。 “你是头儿。你训训他们。” 平躺在地上的拉尔夫,仰望着棕榈树林和天空。 “这个会那个会的。咱们不是老爱开会吗!每天都开。一天两次。尽说些无聊的事情。”他支起一个手肘。“我敢打赌,要是我现在吹起海螺,他们准跑着过来。你知道,然后咱们就煞有介事地开会;有的就会说我们该造架喷气机,有的会说该造艘潜水艇;还有的会说该造一台电视。可一开完会,没等干五分钟,他们就东游西荡开了,要不就会去打猎。” 杰克红着脸。“咱们需要肉呀!” “嗯,可咱们还没弄到一点儿呢。咱们还需要窝棚。再说,其余的你那些猎人在几个钟头以前就回来了。他们可一直在游泳。” “我还在干,”杰克说。“我让他们走的。我得继续干。我——”他极力克制自己,极力扑灭中烧着的怒火。 “我继续干。我认为,由我自己——”在他的眼神里浮现出一种狂热的神色。 “我认为我也许会被杀掉……” “但是你没有。” “我想我也许会的。” 有种隐藏的激情在使拉尔夫的声音颤抖着。 “但是你还没有做到。” 若因为那口气,他的挑斗或许会被忽略过去。 “我想你好象对搭窝棚不感兴趣吧?” “咱们需要肉——” “可咱们没弄到。” 此刻已显出很明显的对抗了。 “我非弄到不可!下一次!在这根矛上我要装上倒钩!我们扎伤了一头猪,可矛却脱落下来。只要我们能装上倒钩——” “咱们需要窝棚。” 杰克突然怨愤地叫起来。“你这是责骂我——?” “我只是说我们在累死累活地干!没别的。”他们俩全都满脸通红,不能友好对视。 拉尔夫身体一滚,肚子朝地,拨弄起地上的草来。 “要是遇到咱们刚掉到岛上那阵下的大雨,窝棚对咱们真是大有用处。还有件事。咱们需要窝棚是因为——” 他停顿片刻;两人都把怒气丢到一边。随后他改变话题,来扭转局面。 “你已经注意到了,是不是?”放下长矛的杰克,蹲坐下去。 “注意到什么?” “嘿。他们担惊受怕的事”他滚了过来,盯着杰克那张面目狰狞的脏脸。 “我是说事情弄成那个样子。你可以听得见他们晚上做梦。你夜里有时醒过来不?” 杰克摇晃着脑袋。 “他们说呀、叫呀。小家伙们。甚至还有些大的呢。就好象——” “就好象这岛上闹怪事。”他们被这插话吓得吃了一惊,抬头一看,见到西蒙严肃的面孔。 “就好象,”西蒙说,“就好象小野兽或蛇样的东西跟真的一样。难道不记着了吗?”这个令人害臊的字眼让两个稍大的男孩听到时,不由自主地微颤了一下。此刻还没有正式提到“蛇”,这个字眼是不宜提起的。 “就好象这岛上闹怪事,”拉尔夫慢吞吞地说道。 “对呀,说得对。” 杰克坐着挺直身、伸直腿。 “他们疯了。” “疯子。咱们去探险那阵子的事,还记得吧?” 他们互相咧嘴笑笑,第一天的魅力浮现在他们各自的脑海里。 拉尔夫继续说道:“因此需要咱们拿窝棚作为一种——” “住所。” “不错。” 杰克蜷起双腿,抱着膝盖,皱眉蹙额地尽量想把话讲清楚。“反正跟在森林里一样。当然罗,我是指打猎的时候——不是采野果子,当你独自一个——” 他停了一下,想不出拉尔夫是否会拿他的话当真。 “说下去。” “打猎的时候,有时你自己会感到就象——”他忽然脸红了。 “当然其实啥也没有。只是一种感觉。但是你会感到你不象是在打猎,而是——谁在猎捕你;在丛林里好象有什么东西一直在跟着你。”他们又沉默了:西蒙听得入了神,拉尔夫不很相信,并且有点光火。 他端坐起来,一个肩膀被一只脏手擦着。“唷,我倒不晓得呢。” 杰克跳了起来,急匆匆地说道:“你在森林里就会有那样的感觉。当然其实也没啥。只有——只有——”他朝海滩快步跑了几步,随后又反回来。“只有我知道他们是怎样的感觉。是不是?就那么回事。” “咱们能做到使自己得救,那就是最好的事情了。” 杰克应该想一想,才总算记起了“得救”是怎么回事。“得救?对对,当然罗!不过全一样,我倒是想先逮头野猪——”他抓起长矛,猛戳进泥地。 在他的眼睛里重现着一种意思不很明确的眼神。拉尔夫的目光穿过自己的一绺金发,挑剔地看着他。 “只要你的猎手记得住要生火——” “你呀!你的火呀!”两个男孩赶忙走下海滩,在海水边上回顾着粉红色的山。一缕白烟在蔚蓝色的晴空中冉冉升起,渐渐隐退。 拉尔夫把眉头皱起。 “不知道要看得见这烟需要多远。” “几英里。” “咱们的烟生得不是很浓。”底部的白烟仿佛觉察到了他们的目光,逐渐变成浓浓的一团,慢慢上升,并溶入上面那条细小的烟柱。 “我想这回一定加了青树枝,”拉尔夫喃喃自语。 他眯起眼睛,转过身去朝海平线方向寻找着。 “找到啦!”杰克大声地叫着,倒把拉尔夫吓了一跳。 “什么?在哪儿?是条船吗?”但是杰克却指着从山头向岛的稍平坦部分蜿蜒而下的高斜坡。 “当然啦!它们全躺在那上面——它们准这样,当阳光太热时——”杰克全神贯注的脸色被拉尔夫迷惑地注视着。“——野猪爬上了高坡。到了那高处,太阳晒不到的地方,正在暑热之中休息呢,真象老家的母牛——” “我还以为你看到一只船呢!” “我们可以悄悄地接近一头——脸被涂黑了,那猪群就认不出来——也许能围住它们,然后——” 熬不住的拉尔夫气乎乎地说:“我在谈烟呢!你不想有人来救吗?你只会说猪呀、猪呀、猪呀!” “可咱们需要肉呢!” “一整天了我跟西蒙都在干活,可你回来甚至连茅屋都没注意到!” “我也在干活——” “可那种活你最喜欢干!”拉尔夫大喊道。“你要打猎!而我——”他们在明亮的海滩上对视着,吃惊于感情的龃龉。 拉尔夫先侧眼看向一边,装着对沙滩上一群小家伙们感兴趣的样子。 从平台外水潭里传来了孩子们游泳的一阵阵猎手的嬉闹声。 平躺在平台一端的猪崽子,俯视着五光十色的海水。 “这些人都帮不了多大忙。”他想要进一步解释,怎么人们从来就跟你所想的不一样。 “西蒙。他很帮忙。”他指指窝棚。“其他的全都跑开了。西蒙干的跟我一样多。只有——” “西蒙总在附近。”拉尔夫开始走向窝棚,杰克紧跟其后。 “替你干一点吧,”杰克喃喃而语,“干完了我洗个澡。” “别费心啦。”他们来到窝棚时,却不见西蒙的身影。 拉尔夫把头伸进那空洞里,又缩回来,转脸向杰克说:“他也一溜烟走了。” “腻了吧,”杰克说,“准去洗澡了。”拉尔夫将眉头皱了皱。 “他真是又古怪又好笑。”杰克点头附和,即使拉尔夫随便说些什么别的,他也会同意的;两人不再讲话,一同离开了窝棚,然后朝洗澡的水潭走去。 “把澡洗完后,”杰克说道,“我再吃点东西,就翻到山那边去看看能否找到踪迹。你去不去?” “可是太阳快落山了!” “也许还来得及——”他们俩一块儿朝前走着,却形同陌路,感受和感情都无法沟通。 “要是能搞到一头猪该多好!” “我要回去继续搭窝棚。”他们无可奈何地互相瞅瞅,爱恨交加。 洗澡水潭暖洋洋的咸水、嬉闹声、泼水声和欢笑声,他们俩是被这所有的一切连在一起的。 拉尔夫和杰克本预想在洗澡水潭找到西蒙,然而西蒙并不在那里。 原来当他们小步跑下海滩回头去望山头时,西蒙本来也跟在后面跑了一段路,可是后来他停住了,看见海滩上有一些孩子想在一个沙堆旁边搭一个小房子或者说是小茅屋,他锁紧眉头,随后转身离去,好象有一种意念指使他走进了森林。 西蒙是个瘦骨嶙峋的小个子,下巴突出,眼睛倒很有神,使得拉尔夫错认为他又快活可爱又顽皮淘气。西蒙披散着乱糟糟的粗黑的长头发,几乎遮住了他那又低又阔的前额。他穿着破烂的短裤,象杰克那样光着脚丫子,厉害的阳光将原本黝黑的皮肤晒成深褐色,跟汗珠一起一闪一亮。 他择路爬上孤岩,翻过第一天清晨拉尔夫曾爬过的那块大岩石,然后朝右转向树林子。 他踏着熟悉的小道穿过成片的野果树,那儿很容易就可找到吃的,虽然并不令人心满意足。 同一棵树上又长花儿又长果子,到处都是野果成熟的香味和草地上无数蜜蜂的嗡嗡声。 本来在他身后跟着的小家伙们,在这儿追上了他。 他们七嘴八舌地簇拥着他朝野果树走去,嘴里不知道在叫着什么。 接着,在蜜蜂的嗡嗡声中,在下午的阳光下,为了小家伙们,他们够不着的野果都让西蒙找到了。 他把簇叶高处最好的摘下来,向下丢到许许多多向前伸出的手里。 满足了小家伙们以后,他停了停,四处张望。小家伙们双手满捧着熟透的野果,莫名其妙地望着他。 西蒙转身便向勉强辨认得出的小路走去,而离开了他们。 不久他就来到了高高的丛林之中。 高大的树身上满是意想不到的淡雅的花朵,一直长到密不透光的树叶形成了华盖,树林里的小动物在那上面嬉戏。 这儿的空间也是黑漆漆的,藤蔓垂下了无数枝条,就象从沉没的船上垂下的索具。 柔软的泥土里留下了西蒙的脚印;而当他一碰到藤蔓,它们全身都随着颤动起来。 他终于来到了一个有更充裕阳光的地方。这儿的藤蔓用不到长得太远就能接受阳光的洗礼,它们平织成一块大“毯子”,悬挂在丛林中一块空地的一侧;在这儿,有一方岩石压着地面,只有小树苗和凤尾草才能稍稍生长。 空旷的四周都是芳香扑鼻的深色矮灌木丛,就象一个满装着暑热和阳光的碗钵。 一棵参天的大树倾倒在这空地的一角,靠在亭亭直立的树木上,一种生长迅速的攀缘植物一直爬到了大树顶上,它那红色和黄色的小树枝随着风摇来荡去。 西蒙将脚停住。他象杰克所做过的那样,扭头看看靠近身后的地方,迅速地瞥了瞥四周,判定周围没有别人。 刹那间他几乎是在偷偷摸摸地行动。 随后他弯下腰扭动着身子往那“毯子”当中钻了进去。 藤蔓和矮灌木丛长得如此紧凑,因而西蒙往前挤,枝条把汗水都给刮掉了;他身子刚一过去,身后的枝条就又合拢了。 他终于平安地到达了正中,到了一个叶子疏松,又跟林中空地隔开的角落里。 他蹲下来,分开树叶,朝外窥测着空地。 热烘烘的空中只有一对华丽的花蝴蝶在展翅飞舞着,别的什么也没有。他竖起警觉的耳朵,屏住呼吸倾听着岛上的各种声音。 夜幕正在降落;毛色艳丽的怪鸟的啁啾声,蜜蜂的嗡嗡声,正在飞回到筑在方岩石上窝巢的海鸥的哑哑声,都变得越来越轻。 几英里之外,深沉的海水冲撞着礁石,发出轻得简直令人难以觉察的低微声。 原先象形成屏幕似的枝叶被西蒙一松手又回复到原位。倾斜的淡黄色阳光几近消逝;阳光擦上矮灌木丛,抹过象蜡烛似的绿色花蕾,朝树冠上移去,树木下面的夜色更浓了。 绚丽的色彩随着光的隐去而一起消失;暑热和急切的心情顿时也冷了下来。蜡烛似的花蕾轻轻地颤动着。 绿色的萼片微微收缩,乳白色的花尖雅致地向上迎接开阔的夜空。 此刻从空中渐渐褪去的阳光已经高得完全照不到空地了。 夜色拉开帷幕,覆盖了林间的通道,使它们变得象海底那样昏暗而陌生。 初升的群星投下了清光,星光下,无数蜡烛似的花蕾开出一朵朵大白花微微闪烁,四处飘香,渐渐地笼罩了整个海岛。 Chapter 4 Painted Faces and Long Hair   The first rhythm that they became used to was the slow swing from dawn to quick dusk. They accepted the pleasures of morning, the bright sun, the whelming sea and sweet air, as a time when play was good and life so full that hope was not necessary and therefore forgotten. Toward noon, as the floods of light fell more nearly to the perpendicular, the stark colors of the morning were smoothed in pearl and opalescence; and the heat--as though the impending sun's height gave it momentum--became a blow that they ducked, running to the shade and lying there, perhaps even sleeping.   Strange things happened at midday. The glittering sea rose up, moved apart in planes of blatant impossibility; the coral reef and the few stunted palms that clung to the more elevated parts would float up into the sky, would quiver, be plucked apart, run like raindrops on a wire or be repeated as in an odd succession of mirrors. Sometimes land loomed where there was no land and flicked out like a bubble as the children watched. Piggy discounted all this learnedly as a "mirage"; and since no boy could reach even the reef over the stretch of water where the snapping sharks waited, they grew accustomed to these mysteries and ignored them, just as they ignored the miraculous, throbbing stars. At midday the illusions merged into the sky and there the sun gazed down like an angry eye. Then, at the end of the afternoon; the mirage subsided and the horizon became level and blue and clipped as the sun declined. That was another time of comparative coolness but menaced by the coming of the dark. When the sun sank, darkness dropped on the island like an extinguisher and soon the shelters were full of restlessness, under the remote stars.   Nevertheless, the northern European tradition of work, play, and food right through the day, made it possible for them to adjust themselves wholly to this new rhythm. The littlun Percival had early crawled into a shelter and stayed there for two days, talking, singing, and crying, till they thought him batty and were faintly amused. Ever since then he had been peaked, red-eyed, and miserable; a littiun who played little and cried often.   The smaller boys were known now by the generic title of "littluns." The decrease in size, from Ralph down, was gradual; and though there was a dubious region inhabited by Simon and Robert and Maurice, nevertheless no one had any difficulty in recognizing biguns at one end and littluns at the other. The undoubted littluns, those aged about six, led a quite distinct, and at the same time intense, life of their own. They ate most of the day, picking fruit where they could reach it and not particular about ripeness and quality. They were used now to stomach-aches and a sort of chronic diarrhoea. They suffered untold terrors in the dark and huddled together for comfort. Apart from food and sleep, they found time for play, aimless and trivial, in the white sand by the bright water. They cried for their mothers much less often than might have been expected; they were very brown, and filthily dirty. They obeyed the summons of the conch, partly because Ralph blew it, and he was big enough to be a link with the adult world of authority; and partly because they enjoyed the entertainment of the assemblies. But otherwise they seldom bothered with the biguns and their passionately emotional and corporate life was their own.   They had built castles in the sand at the bar of the little river. These castles were about one foot high and were decorated with shells, withered flowers, and interesting stones. Round the castles was a complex of marks, tracks, walls, railway lines, that were of significance only if inspected with the eye at beach-level. The littluns played here, if not happily at least with absorbed attention; and often as many as three of them would play the same game together.   Three were playing here now. Henry was the biggest of them. He was also a distant relative of that other boy whose mulberry-marked face had not been seen since the evening of the great fire; but he was not old enough to understand this, and if he had been told that the other boy had gone home in an aircraft, he would have accepted the statement without fuss or disbelief.   Henry was a bit of a leader this afternoon, because the other two were Percival and Johnny, the smallest boys on the island. Percival was mouse-colored and had not been very attractive even to his mother; Johnny was well built, with fair hair and a natural belligerence. Just now he was being obedient because he was interested; and the three children, kneeling in the sand, were at peace.   Roger and Maurice came out of the forest. They were relieved from duty at the fire and had come down for a swim. Roger led the way straight through the castles, kicking them over, burying the flowers, scattering the chosen stones. Maurice followed, laughing, and added to the destruction. The three littluns paused in their game and looked up. As it happened, the particular marks in which they were interested had not been touched, so they made no protest. Only Percival began to whimper with an eyeful of sand and Maurice hurried away. In his other life Maurice had received chastisement for filling a younger eye with sand. Now, though there was no parent to let fall a heavy hand, Maurice still felt the unease of wrongdoing. At the back of his mind formed the uncertain outlines of an excuse. He muttered something about a swim and broke into a trot.   Roger remained, watching the littluns. He was not noticeably darker than when he had dropped in, but the shock of black hair, down his nape and low on his forehead, seemed to suit his gloomy face and made what had seemed at first an unsociable remoteness into something forbidding. Percival finished his whimper and went on playing, for the tears had washed the sand away. Johnny watched him with china-blue eyes; then began to fling up sand in a shower, and presently Percival was crying again.   When Henry tired of his play and wandered off along the beach, Roger followed him, keeping beneath the palms and drifting casually in the same direction. Henry walked at a distance from the palms and the shade because he was too young to keep himself out of the sun. He went down the beach and busied himself at the water's edge. The great Pacific tide was coming in and every few seconds the relatively still water of the lagoon heaved forwards an inch. There were creatures that lived in this last fling of the sea, tiny transparencies that came questing in with the water over the hot, dry sand. With impalpable organs of sense they examined this new field. Perhaps food had appeared where at the last incursion there had been none; bird droppings, insects perhaps, any of the strewn detritus of landward life. Like a myriad of tiny teeth in a saw, the transparencies came scavenging over the beach.   This was fascinating to Henry. He poked about with a bit of stick, that itself was wave-worn and whitened and a vagrant, and tried to control the motions of the scavengers. He made little runnels that the tide filled and tried to crowd them with creatures. He became absorbed beyond mere happiness as he felt himself exercising control over living things. He talked to them, urging them, ordering them. Driven back by the tide, his footprints became bays in which they were trapped and gave him the illusion of mastery. He squatted on his hams at the water's edge, bowed, with a shock of hair falling over his forehead and past his eyes, and the afternoon sun emptied down invisible arrows.   Roger waited too. At first he had hidden behind a great palm; but Henry's absorption with the transparencies was so obvious that at last he stood out in full view. He looked along the beach. Percival had gone off, crying, and Johnny was left in triumphant possession of the castles, He sat there, crooning to himself and throwing sand at an imaginary Percival. Beyond him, Roger could see the platform and the glints of spray where Ralph and Simon and Piggy and Maurice were diving in the pool. He listened carefully but could only just hear them.   A sudden breeze shook the fringe of palm trees, so that the fronds tossed and fluttered. Sixty feet above Roger, several nuts, fibrous lumps as big as rugby balls, were loosed from their stems. They fell about him with a series of hard thumps and he was not touched. Roger did not consider his escape, but looked from the nuts to Henry and back again.   The subsoil beneath the palm trees was a raised beach, and generations of palms had worked loose in this the stones that had lain on the sands of another shore. Roger stooped, picked up a stone, aimed, and threw it at Henry-- threw it to miss. The stone, that token of preposterous time, bounced five yards to Henry's right and fell in the water. Roger gathered a handful of stones and began to throw them. Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policemen and the law. Roger's arm was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.   Henry was surprised by the plopping sounds in the water. He abandoned the noiseless transparencies and pointed at the center of the spreading rings like a setter. This side and that the stones fell, and Henry turned obediently but always too late to see the stones in the air. At last he saw one and laughed, looking for the friend who was teasing him. But Roger had whipped behind the palm again, was leaning against it breathing quickly, his eyelids fluttering. Then Henry lost interest in stones and wandered off.   "Roger."   Jack was standing under a tree about ten yards away. When Roger opened his eyes and saw him, a darker shadow crept beneath the swarthiness of his skin; but Jack noticed nothing. He was eager, impatient, beckoning, so that Roger went to him.   There was a small pool at the end of the river, dammed back by sand and full of white water-lilies and needle-like reeds. Here Sam and Eric were waiting, and Bill. Jack, concealed from the sun, knelt by the pool and opened the two large leaves that he carried. One of them contained white clay, and the other red. By them lay a stick of charcoal brought down from the fire.   Jack explained to Roger as he worked.   "They don't smell me. They see me, I think. Something pink, under the trees."   He smeared on the clay.   "If only I'd some green!"   He turned a half-concealed face up to Roger and answered the incomprehension of his gaze.   "For hunting. Like in the war. You know--dazzle paint. Like things trying to look like something else--" He twisted in the urgency of telling. "--Like moths on a tree trunk."   Roger understood and nodded gravely. The twins moved toward Jack and began to protest timidly about something. Jack waved them away.   "Shut up."   He rubbed the charcoal stick between the patches of red and white on his face.   "No. You two come with me."   He peered at his reflection and disliked it. He bent down, took up a double handful of lukewarm water and rubbed the mess from his face. Freckles and sandy eyebrows appeared.   Roger smiled, unwillingly.   "You don't half look a mess."   Jack planned his new face. He made one cheek and one eye-socket white, then he rubbed red over the other half of his face and slashed a black bar of charcoal across from right ear to left jaw. He looked in the pool for his reflection, but his breathing troubled the mirror.   "Samneric. Get me a coconut. An empty one."   He knelt, holding the shell of water. A rounded patch of sunlight fell on his face and a brightness appeared in the depths of the water. He looked in astonishment, no longer at himself but at an awesome stranger. He spilt the water and leapt to his feet, laughing excitedly. Beside the pool his sinewy body held up a mask that drew their eyes and appalled them. He began to dance and his laughter became a bloodthirsty snarling. He capered toward Bill, and the mask was a thing on its own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self- consciousness. The face of red and white and black swung through the air and jigged toward Bill. Bill started up laughing; then suddenly he fell silent and blundered away through the bushes.   Jack rushed toward the twins.   "The rest are making a line. Come on!"   "But--"   "--we--"   "Come on! I'll creep up and stab--"   The mask compelled them.      Ralph climbed out of the bathing pool and trotted up the beach and sat in the shade beneath the palms. His fair hair was plastered over his eyebrows and he pushed it back. Simon was floating in the water and kicking with his feet, and Maurice was practicing diving. Piggy was mooning about, aimlessly picking up things and discarding them. The rock-pools which so fascinated him were covered by the tide, so he was without an interest until the tide went back. Presently, seeing Ralph under the palms, he came and sat by him.   Piggy wore the remainders of a pair of shorts, his fat body was golden brown, and the glasses still flashed when he looked at anything. He was the only boy on the island whose hair never seemed to grow. The rest were shockheaded, but Piggy's hair still lay in wisps over his head as though baldness were his natural state and this imperfect covering would soon go, like the velvet on a young stag's antlers.   "I've been thinking," he said, "about a clock. We could make a sundial. We could put a stick in the sand, and then--"   The effort to express the mathematical processes involved was too great. He made a few passes instead.   "And an airplane, and a TV set," said Ralph sourly, "and a steam engine."   Piggy shook his head.   "You have to have a lot of metal things for that," he said, "and we haven't got no metal. But we got a stick."   Ralph turned and smiled involuntarily. Piggy was a bore; his fat, his ass-mar and his matter-of-fact ideas were dull, but there was always a little pleasure to be got out of pulling his leg, even if one did it by accident.   Piggy saw the smile and misinterpreted it as friendliness. There had grown up tacitly among the biguns the opinion that Piggy was an outsider, not only by accent, which did not matter, but by fat, and ass-mar, and specs, and a certain disinclination for manual labor. Now, finding that something he had said made Ralph smile, he rejoiced and pressed his advantage.   "We got a lot of sticks. We could have a sundial each. Then we should know what the time was."   "A fat lot of good that would be."   "You said you wanted things done. So as we could be rescued."   "Oh, shut up."   He leapt to his feet and trotted back to the pool, just as Maurice did a rather poor dive. Ralph was glad of a chance to change the subject. He shouted as Maurice came to the surface.   "Belly flop! Belly flop!"   Maurice flashed a smile at Ralph who slid easily into the water. Of all the boys, he was the most at home there; but today, irked by the mention of rescue, the useless, footling mention of rescue, even the green depths of water and the shattered, golden sun held no balm. Instead of remaining and playing, he swam with steady strokes under Simon and crawled out of the other side of the pool to lie there, sleek and streaming like a seal. Piggy, always clumsy, stood up and came to stand by him, so that Ralph rolled on his stomach and pretended not to see. The mirages had died away and gloomily he ran his eye along the taut blue line of the horizon.   The next moment he was on his feet and shouting.   "Smoke! Smoke!"   Simon tried to sit up in the water and got a mouthful. Maurice, who had been standing ready to dive, swayed back on his heels, made a bolt for the platform, then swerved back to the grass under the palms. There he started to pull on his tattered shorts, to be ready for anything.   Ralph stood, one hand holding back his hair, the other clenched. Simon was climbing out of the water. Piggy was rubbing his glasses on his shorts and squinting at the sea. Maurice had got both legs through one leg of his shorts. Of all the boys, only Ralph was still.   "I can't see no smoke," said Piggy incredulously. "I can't see no smoke, Ralph--where is it?"   Ralph said nothing. Now both his hands were clenched over his forehead so that the fair hair was kept out of his eyes. He was leaning forward and already the salt was whitening his body.   "Ralph--where's the ship?"   Simon stood by, looking from Ralph to the horizon. Maurice's trousers gave way with a sigh and he abandoned them as a wreck, rushed toward the forest, and then came back again.   The smoke was a tight little knot on the horizon and was uncoiling slowly. Beneath the smoke was a dot that might be a funnel. Ralph's face was pale as he spoke to himself.   "They'll see our smoke."   Piggy was looking in the right direction now.   "It don't look much."   He turned round and peered up at the mountain. Ralph continued to watch the ship, ravenously. Color was coming back into his face. Simon stood by him, silent.   "I know I can't see very much," said Piggy, "but have we got any smoke?"   Ralph moved impatiently, still watching the ship.   "The smoke on the mountain."   Maurice came running, and stared out to sea. Both Simon and Piggy were looking up at the mountain. Piggy screwed up his face but Simon cried out as though he had hurt himself.   "Ralph! Ralph!"   The quality of his speech twisted Ralph on the sand.   "You tell me," said Piggy anxiously. "Is there a signal?"   Ralph looked back at the dispersing smoke in the horizon, then up at the mountain.   "Ralph--please! Is there a signal?"   Simon put out his hand, timidly, to touch Ralph; but Ralph started to run, splashing through the shallow end of the bathing pool, across the hot, white sand and under the palms. A moment later he was battling with the complex undergrowth that was already engulfing the scar. Simon ran after him, then Maurice. Piggy shouted.   "Ralph! Please--Ralph!"   Then he too started to run, stumbling over Maurice's discarded shorts before he was across the terrace. Behind the four boys, the smoke moved gently along the horizon; and on the beach, Henry and Johnny were throwing sand at Percival who was crying quietly again; and all three were in complete ignorance of the excitement.   By the time Ralph had reached the landward end of the scar he was using precious breath to swear. He did desperate violence to his naked body among the rasping creepers so that blood was sliding over him. Just where the steep ascent of the mountain began, he stopped. Maurice was only a few yards behind him.   "Piggy's specs!" shouted Ralph. "If the fire's all out, we'll need them--"   He stopped shouting and swayed on his feet. Piggy was only just visible, bumbling up from the beach. Ralph looked at the horizon, then up to the mountain. Was it better to fetch Piggy's glasses, or would the ship have gone? Or if they climbed on, supposing the fire was all out, and they had to watch Piggy crawling nearer and the ship sinking under the horizon? Balanced on a high peak of need, agonized by indecision, Ralph cried out:   "Oh God, oh God!"   Simon, struggling with the bushes, caught his breath. His face was twisted. Ralph blundered on, savaging himself, as the wisp of smoke moved on.   The fire was dead. They saw that straight away; saw what they had really known down on the beach when the smoke of home had beckoned. The fire was out, smokeless and dead; the watchers were gone. A pile of unused fuel lay ready.   Ralph turned to the sea. The horizon stretched, impersonal once more, barren of all but the faintest trace of smoke. Ralph ran stumbling along the rocks, saved himself on the edge of the pink cliff, and screamed at the ship.   "Come back! Come back!"   He ran backwards and forwards along the cliff, his face always to the sea, and his voice rose insanely.   "Come back! Come back!"   Simon and Maurice arrived. Ralph looked at them with unwinking eyes. Simon turned away, smearing the water from his cheeks. Ralph reached inside himself for the worst word he knew.   "They let the bloody fire go out."   He looked down the unfriendly side of the mountain. Piggy arrived, out of breath and whimpering like a littlun. Ralph clenched his fist and went very red. The intentness of his gaze, the bitterness of his voice, pointed for him.   "There they are."   A procession had appeared, far down among the pink stones that lay near the water's edge. Some of the boys wore black caps but otherwise they were almost naked. They lifted sticks in the air together whenever they came to an easy patch. They were chanting, something to do with the bundle that the errant twins carried so carefully. Ralph picked out Jack easily, even at that distance, tall, red-haired, and inevitably leading the procession.   Simon looked now, from Ralph to Jack, as he had looked from Ralph to the horizon, and what he saw seemed to make him afraid. Ralph said nothing more, but waited while the procession came nearer. The chant was audible but at that distance still wordless. Behind Jack walked the twins, carrying a great stake on their shoulders. The gutted carcass of a pig swung from the stake, swinging heavily as the twins toiled over the uneven ground. The pig's head hung down with gaping neck and seemed to search for something on the ground. At last the words of the chant floated up to them, across the bowl of blackened wood and ashes.   "_Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood._"   Yet as the words became audible, the procession reached the steepest part of the mountain, and in a minute or two the chant had died away. Piggy sniveled and Simon shushed him quickly as though he had spoken too loudly in church.   Jack, his face smeared with clays, reached the top first and hailed Ralph excitedly, with lifted spear.   "Look! We've killed a pig--we stole up on them--we got in a circle--"   Voices broke in from the hunters.   "We got in a circle--"   "We crept up--"   "The pig squealed--"   The twins stood with the pig swinging between them, dropping black gouts on the rock. They seemed to share one wide, ecstatic grin. Jack had too many things to tell Ralph at once. Instead, he danced a step or two, then remembered his dignity and stood still, grinning. He noticed blood on his hands and grimaced distastefully, looked for something on which to clean them, then wiped them on his shorts and laughed.   Ralph spoke.   "You let the fire go out."   Jack checked, vaguely irritated by this irrelevance but too happy to let it worry him.   "We can light the fire again. You should have been with us, Ralph. We had a smashing time. The twins got knocked over--"   "We hit the pig--"   "--I fell on top--"   "I cut the pig's throat," said Jack, proudly, and yet twitched as he said it. "Can I borrow yours, Ralph, to make a nick in the hilt?"   The boys chattered and danced. The twins continued to grin.   "There was lashings of blood," said Jack, laughing and shuddering, "you should have seen it!"   "We'll go hunting every day--"   Ralph spoke again, hoarsely. He had not moved.   "You let the fire go out."   This repetition made Jack uneasy. He looked at the twins and then back at Ralph.   "We had to have them in the hunt," he said, "or there wouldn't have been enough for a ring."   He flushed, conscious of a fault.   "The fire's only been out an hour or two. We can light up again--"   He noticed Ralph's scarred nakedness, and the sombre silence of all four of them. He sought, charitable in his happiness, to include them in the thing that had happened. His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink.   He spread his arms wide.   "You should have seen the blood!"   The hunters were more silent now, but at this they buzzed again. Ralph flung back his hair. One arm pointed at the empty horizon. His voice was loud and savage, and struck them into silence.   "There was aship."   Jack, faced at once with too many awful implications, ducked away from them. He laid a hand on the pig and drew his knife. Ralph brought his arm down, fist clenched, and his voice shook.   "There was a ship. Out there. You said you'd keep the fire going and you let it out!" He took a step toward Jack, who turned and faced him.   "They might have seen us. We might have gone home--"   This was too bitter for Piggy, who forgot his timidity in the agony of his loss. He began to cry out, shrilly:   "You and your blood, Jack Merridew! You and your hunting! We might have gone home--"   Ralph pushed Piggy to one side.   "I was chief, and you were going to do what I said. You talk. But you can't even build huts--then you go off hunting and let out the fire--"   He turned away, silent for a moment. Then his voice came again on a peak of feeling.   "There was a ship--"   One of the smaller hunters began to wail. The dismal truth was filtering through to everybody. Jack went very red as he hacked and pulled at the pig.   "The job was too much. We needed everyone."   Ralph turned.   "You could have had everyone when the shelters were finished. But you had to hunt--"   "We needed meat."   Jack stood up as he said this, the bloodied knife in his hand. The two boys faced each other. There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics, fierce exhilaration, skill; and there was the world of longing and baffled commonsense. Jack transferred the knife to his left hand and smudged blood over his forehead as he pushed down the plastered hair.   Piggy began again.   "You didn't ought to have let that fire out. You said you'd keep the smoke going--"   This from Piggy, and the wails of agreement from some of the hunters, drove Jack to violence. The bolting look came into his blue eyes. He took a step, and able at last to hit someone, stuck his fist into Piggy's stomach. Piggy sat down with a grunt. Jack stood over him. His voice was vicious with humiliation.   "You would, would you? Fatty!"   Ralph made a step forward and Jack smacked Piggy's head. Piggy's glasses flew off and tinkled on the rocks. Piggy cried out in terror:   "My specs!"   He went crouching and feeling over the rocks but Simon, who got there first, found them for him. Passions beat about Simon on the mountain-top with awful wings.   "One side's broken."   Piggy grabbed and put on the glasses. He looked malevolently at Jack.   "I got to have them specs. Now I only got one eye. Jus' you wait--"   Jack made a move toward Piggy who scrambled away till a great rock lay between them. He thrust his head over the top and glared at Jack through his one flashing glass.   "Now I only got one eye. Just you wait--"   Jack mimicked the whine and scramble.   "Jus' you wait--yah!"   Piggy and the parody were so funny that the hunters began to laugh. Jack felt encouraged. He went on scrambling and the laughter rose to a gale of hysteria. Unwillingly Ralph felt his lips twitch; he was angry with himself for giving way.   He muttered.   "That was a dirty trick."   Jack broke out of his gyration and stood facing Ralph. His words came in a shout.   "All right, all right!"   He looked at Piggy, at the hunters, at Ralph.   "I'm sorry. About the fire, I mean. There. I--"   He drew himself up.   "--I apologize."   The buzz from the hunters was one of admiration at this handsome behavior. Clearly they were of the opinion that Jack had done the decent thing, had put himself in the right by his generous apology and Ralph, obscurely, in the wrong. They waited for an appropriately decent answer.   Yet Ralph's throat refused to pass one. He resented, as an addition to Jack's misbehavior, this verbal trick. The fire was dead, the ship was gone. Could they not see? Anger instead of decency passed his throat.   "That was a dirty trick."   They were silent on the mountain-top while the opaque look appeared in Jack's eyes and passed away.   Ralph's final word was an ingracious mutter.   "All right. Light the fire."   With some positive action before them, a little of the tension died. Ralph said no more, did nothing, stood looking down at the ashes round his feet. Jack was loud and active. He gave orders, sang, whistled, threw remarks at the silent Ralph--remarks that did not need an answer, and therefore could not invite a snub; and still Ralph was silent. No one, not even Jack, would ask him to move and in the end they had to build the fire three yards away and in a place not really as convenient.   So Ralph asserted his chieftainship and could not have chosen a better way if he had thought for days. Against this weapon, so indefinable and so effective, Jack was powerless and raged without knowing why. By the time the pile was built, they were on different sides of a high barrier.   When they had dealt with the fire another crisis arose. Jack had no means of lighting it. Then to his surprise, Ralph went to Piggy and took the glasses from him. Not even Ralph knew how a link between him and Jack had been snapped and fastened elsewhere.   "I'll bring 'em back."   "I'll come too."   Piggy stood behind him, islanded in a sea of meaningless color, while Ralph knelt and focused the glossy spot. Instantly the fire was alight, Piggy held out his hands and grabbed the glasses back.   Before these fantastically attractive flowers of violet and red and yellow, unkindness melted away. They became a circle of boys round a camp fire and even Piggy and Ralph were half-drawn in. Soon some of the boys were rushing down the slope for more wood while Jack hacked the pig. They tried holding the whole carcass on a stake over the fire, but the stake burnt more quickly than the pig roasted. In the end they skewered bits of meat on branches and held them in the flames: and even then almost as much boy was roasted as meat.   Ralph's mouth watered. He meant to refuse meat, but his past diet of fruit and nuts, with an odd crab or fish, gave him too little resistance. He accepted a piece of halfraw meat and gnawed it like a wolf.   Piggy spoke, also dribbling.   "Aren't I having none?"   Jack had meant to leave him in doubt, as an assertion of power; but Piggy by advertising his omission made more cruelty necessary.   "You didn't hunt."   "No more did Ralph," said Piggy wetly, "nor Simon." He amplified. "There isn't more than a ha'porth of meat in a crab."   Ralph stirred uneasily. Simon, sitting between the twins and Piggy, wiped his mouth and shoved his piece of meat over the rocks to Piggy, who grabbed it. The twins giggled and Simon lowered his face in shame.   Then Jack leapt to his feet, slashed off a great hunk of meat, and flung it down at Simon's feet.   "Eat! Damn you!"   He glared at Simon.   "Take it!"   He spun on his heel, center of a bewildered circle of boys.   "I got you meat!"   Numberless and inexpressible frustrations combined to make his rage elemental and awe-inspiring.   "I painted my face--I stole up. Now you eat--all of you--and I--"   Slowly the silence on the mountain-top deepened till the click of the fire and the soft hiss of roasting meat could be heard clearly. Jack looked round for understanding but found only respect. Ralph stood among the ashes of the signal fire, his hands full of meat, saying nothing.   Then at last Maurice broke the silence. He changed the subject to the only one that could bring the majority of them together.   "Where did you find the pig?"   Roger pointed down the unfriendly side. "They were there--by the sea."   Jack, recovering could not bear to have his story told. He broke in quickly.   "We spread round. I crept, on hands and knees. The spears fell out because they hadn't barbs on. The pig ran away and made an awful noise--"   "It turned back and ran into the circle, bleeding--"   All the boys were talking at once, relieved and excited.   "We closed in--"   The first blow had paralyzed its hind quarters, so then the circle could close in and beat and beat--   "I cut the pig's throat--"   The twins, still sharing their identical grin, jumped up and ran round each other. Then the rest joined in, making pig-dying noises and shouting.   "One for his nob!"   "Give him a fourpenny one!"   Then Maurice pretended to be the pig and ran squealing into the center, and the hunters, circling still, pretended to beat him. As they danced, they sang.   "_Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Bash her in._"   Ralph watched them, envious and resentful. Not till they flagged and the chant died away, did he speak.   "I'm calling an assembly."   One by one, they halted, and stood watching him.   "With the conch. I'm calling a meeting even if we have to go on into the dark. Down on the platform. When I blow it. Now."   He turned away and walked off, down the mountain. 第四章 长发和花脸 从黎明慢慢地过渡到来去匆匆的黄昏这是孩子们开始习惯的第一种生活节奏。 他们享受了早晨的各种乐趣、灿烂的阳光、滚滚的大海和清新的空气,既玩得尽兴,生活又如此充实,当“希望”变得不是必要的时候,它也就被忘却了。 将近正午,充溢的阳光几乎直射而下,清晨各种棱角分明的色彩柔化成珍珠色和乳白色;而暑热——似乎是高悬的太阳给了它力量——变得凶猛无比,孩子们到处躲闪,跑进树荫躺在那里,有的甚至睡起觉来。各种稀奇古怪的事情都在正午发生了。 闪闪发亮的海面上升着,向两侧分开,显出根本不可能存在的许多平面;珊瑚礁和很少几株紧贴在礁石较高处的矮棕榈树好象要飘上天去,摇晃着被撕开来,象在排列古怪的许多面镜子中被折射,又象雨珠儿在电线上滚动。有时候,在以前没有陆地的地方隐约出现了陆地,而当孩子们聚精会神地注目时,陆地又象个气泡似的一晃就不见了。猪崽子象个学者似的把这一切说成只不过是“海市蜃楼”;因为无人能够越过这一片海水到达珊瑚礁,那儿可有咬人的鲨鱼等候着,大伙儿对这些神秘的现象司空见惯,也不在意了,正如他们对闪烁着的、奇妙的群星也已经熟视无睹了一样。 各种幻影在中午时溶进天空;在那上面,骄阳如怒目俯视着。然后,到傍晚时分,蜃景渐渐消失,海平面又回复了水平方向,又变成蓝蓝的,夕阳西下时,海平面轮廓清晰。 那是一天中又一个比较凉快的时候,但可怕的黑夜也就要降临了。 夕阳西沉以后,黑夜降临岛上,把一切都笼罩住了;群星遥远,星光下一阵阵骚动声从茅屋里传出来。 然而,按北欧习俗,干活、游玩和吃喝都是从早到晚进行的,所以孩子们不可能彻底适应这种新的生活节奏。 小家伙珀西佛尔老早就爬进了窝棚,在那儿待了两天,说呀、唱呀、哭呀,大家还以为他疯了,并感到有点好笑。 从那以后他面容憔悴,眼睛红肿,变得可怜巴巴的;成了一个不玩尽哭的小家伙。 “小家伙们”此时是那些较小的男孩的称呼。 个子按大小排开,拉尔夫最大;虽然西蒙、罗伯特和莫里斯三个人之间很难区别,但是在孩子们当中,大家伙们、小家伙们,却是任何人都不难辨认的。 无疑大约六岁上下应该算作是小家伙们的,他们过着一种很特别的、同时又是忙碌的生活。 白天大部分时间他们都在搞吃的,可以够得着的野果都摘来吃,也不管生熟好坏,现在对肚子痛和慢性腹泻都已经习惯了。 他们感受到黑暗中种种莫名的恐怖;只好挤作一堆互相壮胆。 除了吃睡之外,他们就找空玩耍;在明晃晃的水边,在白闪闪的沙滩上,毫无目标地玩耍,把时间打发过去。 在这种环境里,孩子们哭喊着叫娘的本性,在这种情况下的发生比人们所预料的要少得多;他们皮肤很黑,肮脏不堪。 他们听从海螺的召唤,一来因为是拉尔夫吹的,他是个大个子,他足以成为同权威的成人世界相联系的纽带;二来是因为他们喜欢聚在一起,把聚会当作快乐的事情。但是除此之外,他们很少去打扰大家伙,他们有他们自己感情热烈的、激动的共同生活。 在小河的沙洲上他们用沙子堆起各式城堡。这些城堡高约一英尺,并以各种贝壳、凋谢的花朵和好玩的石子装饰。 围绕着城堡的是各种标记、小路、围墙、铁路线,但只有在靠近海滩平面才看得清是这些东西。小家伙们就这样玩耍着,如果说并不快乐,至少也入了迷;而且三个小家伙会常常在一起玩同一个游戏。 眼下有三个正在这儿玩——亨利是他们中最大的。他同脸上长着紫色胎记的男孩是远亲,那个孩子自从发生大火的那天夜里起就没有再出现过;但亨利还年幼,还不懂这个。 要是有人告诉他那个孩子乘飞机回家了,一点都不感到意外,因为他会相信这个说法。 亨利这天下午有点象个小头头,因为另外两个是岛上最小的孩子,珀西佛尔和约翰尼。 珀西佛尔的肤色是鼠灰的,就连他的母亲也不太喜欢;约翰尼则长得挺帅,一头金发,天性好斗。这会儿约翰尼很听话,因为他兴致蛮高;三个孩子跪在沙地里,总算相安无事。 这时罗杰和莫里斯从森林走了出来。他们刚从管火岗上下来,下来准备游泳的。罗杰带路直闯,他一脚将城堡踢倒,把花朵埋入了沙子里,并打散了三个小家伙收集来的石子。莫里斯跟着,一边笑,一边把城堡破坏得更厉害。 游戏停止了,三个小家伙仰脸呆看着。 事情发生的当口儿,他们感兴趣的特别标记还没被触及,所以尚未表示出强烈的不满。只有珀西佛尔因沙子弄进一只眼睛里呜呜地哭了,莫里斯赶忙走开。 以前莫里斯曾因将一个小孩的眼睛里弄进沙子而受过惩罚。眼下,尽管不会有爸爸或妈妈来严厉地教训他,莫里斯仍感到做了错事而心有余悸。他在心里编造出一个含糊的借口,嘴里嘟囔着游泳什么的,然后撒腿快步跑开了。 小家伙们被还待在那里的罗杰看着。他比刚上岛那阵子黑不了多少,但是一头稻草堆似的黑头发,长长地披在颈部,在前面低得覆盖了前额,与他那一张阴沉沉的面孔倒很相衬,使人看了起初只觉得有一种陌生和不好相处的感觉,现在却感到很可怕了。 珀西佛尔不再啜泣,继续玩着,因为眼中的沙子已被泪水冲掉了。约翰尼蓝灰色的双眼看着他,随后抓起沙子往空中撒去;一会儿珀西佛尔又哭了起来。 亨利玩腻了,就沿着海滩闲荡开去,他后面跟着罗杰,在棕榈树底下跟他朝同一个方向闲闲地逛。 亨利与棕榈树隔开着一段距离,他年纪太小,而不懂得避开毒日头,所以没有沿着树荫向前。 他走下海滩,在水边忙起来。浩瀚的太平洋正在涨潮,隔一会儿,比较平静的环礁湖水就上涨一英寸。 有一些小生物在这最近一次上涨的海水中,随着海潮漫上烫人而干燥的沙滩,这些小小的透明生物前来探索。 它们用人们难以识别的感官考察着这片新的地域。在上一次食料被海潮侵袭一卷而光的地方,现在又出现了种种食料:也许是鸟粪,也许是小虫,总之是陆上生物的碎屑散在四处。 这些小小象无数会动的小锯齿的透明生物,前来清扫海滩。 亨利被这一切所迷住。他拿着一段木棒拨弄着,海水已将这木棒冲刷得发白,随波漂动着,把木棒拎在他的手里,他想用这木棒控制这些清扫者的活动。 他划了一道道小沟,让潮水将其灌满,尽量在里面塞满小生物。 他全神贯注,此刻的心情不是单纯的快乐,他感到自己在行使着对许多活东西的控制权。 亨利催促它们这样那样,对它们发号施令地跟它们说着。海潮把他往岸的深处赶,他的脚印制造出一个个小坑阻挡了一些小动物前进,他有一种自己是主宰的错觉此时油然而生了。 他盘腿坐在水边,弯着腰,乱蓬蓬的头发覆盖着前额,盖住眼睛;下午的骄阳正倾射出无数无形的毒箭。 罗杰也等着。开始他躲在一株大棕榈树身后;但当他十分清楚地看到那些透明的小生物把亨利吸引住的时候,就一点也不隐蔽地站了出来。 罗杰沿着海滩放眼眺望。 珀西佛尔已哭着走开了,剩下约翰尼他得意洋洋地占有着城堡。 坐在那里,自个儿哼哼唱唱,并朝假想的珀西佛尔扔着沙子。 从约翰尼处再往远去,罗杰能够看到平台,看到闪光的水花:拉尔夫、西蒙、猪崽子和莫里斯正往潭里跳;他集中所有精力听他们在讲些什么,但只能含糊地听到点声音。 棕榈树林的边缘被一阵突如其来的微风拂过。簇叶摇曳抖动起来。在罗杰上方约六十英尺的地方,一串象橄榄球大小的、纤维质地的棕榈果,从叶梗上松落下来。 它们接二连三地掉在他的周围,敲打着地面,可没砸到他。罗杰没想要躲,他看看棕榈果,又看看亨利,再看看棕榈果。 棕榈树长在一块高起的滩地上;世代相生的棕榈树已把原先是铺在另一块海岸边的沙滩上的石子变得松动了。 罗杰弯腰捡起一块石子,瞄了瞄,朝亨利扔去——可没扔中。 石子——荒唐岁月的象征——掉进水里。罗杰收集了一把石子,又开始扔起来。可亨利四周有一个直径约六码的范围,罗杰不敢往里扔石子。 在这儿,旧生活的禁忌虽然无形无影,却仍强有力。席地而坐的孩子的四周,有着父母、学校、警察和法律的保护。罗杰的手臂受到文明的约束,虽然他对这文明一无所知并且已经毁灭了。 水中扑通扑通的声音把亨利吓了一跳。他不再去弄那些无声的透明小生物了,却象个调节者似的用棒指着逐渐扩散的涟漪的中心。 石子忽左忽右的落在他的身边,亨利随着声音左转右转,可总来不及看到空中的石子。最后终于有一块被他看到了,亨利笑了起来,寻找跟他寻开心的朋友。然而罗杰忽地又躲到了棕榈树身后,他斜靠在树身上,喘着粗气,眼睛一眨一眨。随后亨利对石子失去了兴趣,就漫步走开了。 “罗杰。”杰克站在与他约十码远的一棵树下。罗杰睁大眼睛看到他时,一团比杰克黝黑的皮肤更黑的阴影从他身上缓缓地移过去;并没有引起杰克的注意。他迫不及待,一副不耐烦的样子,正向罗杰打招呼,于是罗杰朝他走去。 有一个水潭在小河的一头。其实不过是沙子把水挡回而形成的一个小小的水池,里面长满雪白的睡莲和针样的芦苇。 萨姆和埃里克在那儿等着,还有比尔。 杰克避着阳光,跪在池边,两张摊开的大叶子摊在手里。 一张叶子上盛着白泥,另一张装着红土。叶子旁边还放着一根从火堆里取来的木炭棒。 杰克一边拌泥一边对罗杰说:“野猪闻不到我。但我想它们是看见了我,看到了树下肉色的东西。” 他把粘土抹在脸上。“我要有点绿的该多好!”杰克抬起头半边已被涂好的面孔朝着罗杰,以示回答罗杰带疑问的目光。 “为了打猎。象在战争中那样。你晓得——涂得使人眼花缭乱。尽量装扮成让人看上去认不出是什么模样——”杰克焦急地诉说着,连身体都在扭动。 “——就象树干上的蠹虫。”罗杰点点头用来表达他已经懂了。 双胞胎朝杰克走来,开始胆怯地抱怨起什么事情。 杰克挥手让他们靠边。“闭嘴。” 他拿木炭棒往带红的白的泥巴的脸中涂擦。 “不。你们俩跟我去。”杰克窥视着自己的倒影,并不满意。 他弯下身子,把微温的池水捧在双手里,洗去脸上的泥块。雀斑和淡茶色的眉毛又显了出来。 罗杰勉强地微笑着说:“你看上去真象大花脸。” 杰克再次打扮起来。一边的脸颊和眼窝被他涂成白色,随后又把另一边涂成红色,再从右耳往左下巴涂上一道黑炭色。 他再低头从清澈的池水里看看自己的倒影,可是他呼出的气息弄皱了镜子般平静的池水。 “萨姆埃里克。给我拿个椰子。要空的。”他跪着把一果壳水捧起。 一块圆圆的太阳光斑映到他脸上,一团亮光也在水中出现了,杰克惊愕地看到,里面不再是他本人,而是一个可怕的陌生人。 他把水一泼,跳将起来,兴奋地狂笑着。 在池塘边上,他那结实的身体顶着一个假面具,既使大家注目,又使大家畏惧。 他开始跳起舞来,他那笑声变成了一种嗜血的狼嚎。 他向比尔蹦跳过去,一个独立的形象出现了,那就是戴着假面具的他,杰克在面具后面躲着,摆脱了羞耻感和自卑感。 有着红白黑三种颜色的面孔在空中晃动,迅速地扑向比尔。比尔惊跳起来,一边笑着;接着他突然默不作声地倒了下去,又慌不择路地穿过矮灌木丛逃走了。 杰克向双胞胎刷地冲去。 “其余的排成一行。快!” “可是——” “——我们——” “快点!我要悄悄地爬上去下手——”他们被假面具威逼着。 拉尔夫从洗澡水潭中爬出,快步跑上海滩,在棕榈树下的阴凉处坐下。 金黄的头发湿漉漉地粘在眉毛的上面,他把头发往后一掠。 西蒙正两只脚蹬着水,在水中漂浮,莫里斯在练习跳水。 猪崽子荡来荡去,漫无目的地边捡边丢着什么。 如此使他着迷的岩石水潭被潮水淹没了,要使他再有兴趣,那就要等到潮水退下去之后了。 不久后,在棕榈树下的拉尔夫被他看到,就走过去坐到拉尔夫身旁。 猪崽子把一条破短裤套上,胖乎乎的身子呈金褐色,他看东西的时候,眼镜总还是一闪一亮。 他是岛上唯一的头发好象从来不长的男孩。 别的孩子的头发长得都象稻草堆似的,但猪崽子的头发仍在头皮上一绺绺地平贴着,似乎他天生就头发稀少,似乎就连这一点不完全的头发不久也会象年青雄鹿角上的茸毛一样脱落掉。 “搞一只钟这是我总在想的事情,”他说道,“咱们可以做个日规。咱们把一根枝条插进沙子,然后——” 太费劲儿的事情就是表达日规计时所牵涉到的数学过程,他用几道步骤来代替。 “再来一台电视,再来一架飞机,”拉尔夫挖苦地说。 “还要一部蒸汽机呢。” 猪崽子把头摆摆。 “那得要好多金属零件,”他说道,“咱们虽然没有金属,但咱们有枝条。” 拉尔夫转过身去,勉强地笑了笑。 猪崽子令人讨厌;胖身体,气喘病,再加上他干巴巴的务实想法,使人觉得他很乏味;可是唯独一件事能产生点乐趣,那就是取笑他,即便是在无意之中取笑了他。 微笑被猪崽子看到了,他却误以为是友好的表示。在大家伙们当中,隐约形成了一种看法,都把猪崽子看成是局外人,不只是因为他说话的口音,那倒无关紧要,而是因为他的胖身体、气喘病、眼镜,还有他对体力活的某种厌恶态度。 此刻,猪崽子发现他说的话使拉尔夫笑了起来,他喜出望外,赶紧把这有利的局面利用起来。 “咱们有好多枝条,每人可以做一个日规。那咱们就知道时间了。” “好处倒是很多呀。” “你说过要做好这件事。那样咱们才会得救。” “嗯,闭嘴。”一跃而起的拉尔夫快步跑回水潭,刚巧莫里斯做了个相当糟糕的入水动作。 拉尔夫高兴地借机转变话题。当莫里斯从水中浮起来时,拉尔夫就叫喊起来:“腹部击水!腹部击水!” 莫里斯朝拉尔夫莞尔一笑,后者正轻松自如地跃入水中。 拉尔夫在所有的男孩之中,游泳时最如鱼得水;可是今天,因为提起了得救——空谈得救是毫无用处的,使他感到厌烦,甚至连深深的绿水和被弄碎了的、金色的阳光也失去了魅力。 不再待在水里玩耍的拉尔夫,他从西蒙下面稳稳地潜游过去,爬上了水潭的另一侧,躺在那里,象海豹那样光溜溜地淌着水。 手脚拙笨的站了起来的猪崽子,走过来站在拉尔夫身旁,拉尔夫忙一翻身,肚子朝地,假装没有看见他。消失了的各种蜃景使拉尔夫郁闷地用眼睛扫着笔直的、蓝蓝的海平线。 紧接着他一跃而起,大叫起来:“烟!烟!”西蒙企图在水中站起,没想到给灌了一口水。 莫里斯本站着准备跳水,这时踉踉跄跄地用脚跟往后退回来,急步奔向平台,随后又转回棕榈树下的草地。 他在那儿开始套上破烂短裤,作好一切准备。 站着的拉尔夫,一只手把头发往后捋,另一只手紧握拳头。 西蒙正从水中爬出来。猪崽子用短裤擦拭着眼镜,眼睛斜看着大海。 莫里斯两条腿已伸进了一条裤腿——拉尔夫是所有孩子中唯一保持镇静的人。 “我怎么看不见烟呀,”猪崽子半信半疑地说道。 “我看不到烟,拉尔夫——烟在哪儿?”拉尔夫一声不吭。 此刻他双手拉紧着搁在前额上,以免金头发挡住视线。 向前倾的他,身上的盐花闪闪发白。 “拉尔夫——船在哪儿?”西蒙站在旁边,看看拉尔夫,又看看海平线。 莫里斯的裤子纰地一声撕坏了,裤子被他当作一堆破布丢掉了,猛地冲向森林,随后又折了回来。 烟是紧密的一小团在海平线上,正在四处蔓延。烟的下面有一个点子,大概是烟囱。拉尔夫面无血色地自言自语:“咱们的烟他们会看见吧。” 猪崽子这下也看到了。 “烟看上去不大。”他将身子转过去,眯起眼睛向山上眺望。 拉尔夫继续贪婪地注视着船只。脸上恢复了血色。西蒙站在拉尔夫身旁,一言不发。 “我清楚我看不清,”猪崽子说,“可咱们的烟生了没有?” 拉尔夫颇不耐烦地动了动,仍然在观察着那条船。 “山上的烟。”莫里斯奔跑过来,向大海眺望。西蒙和猪崽子两人正朝山上看着。 猪崽子把面孔皱起来,西蒙却痛苦地叫喊起来:“拉尔夫!拉尔夫!”他的尖叫让沙滩上的拉尔夫转过身来。 “快告诉我,”猪崽子焦急地说道。“有没有信号?”拉尔夫回头望望海平线上的烟渐渐消散,接着又往山上看。 “拉尔夫——快告诉我!有信号没有?”胆怯地伸出一只手的西蒙碰碰拉尔夫;然而拉尔夫拔腿就跑,他穿过洗澡水潭浅的一头,潭水被踩得四溅,又越过烫人而白亮的沙滩,到了棕榈树下。 不一会儿,他已经在长满孤岩的繁杂的下层林丛中吃力地往前跑着。西蒙紧跟在拉尔夫身后,再后面是莫里斯。 猪崽子叫嚷道:“拉尔夫!请等等——拉尔夫!” 随后他也跑了起来,莫里斯丢弃的短裤却将他绊倒,再越过斜坡。 烟在四个男孩的背后,沿着海平线缓慢地移动着;而在海滩上,亨利和约翰尼正朝珀西佛尔抛着沙子,后者又哭起来;三个孩子对这件激动人心的事情,毫无感觉。 这时拉尔夫已到了孤岩朝内陆的一头,尽管他呼吸困难,但还在咒骂。 在锉刀般锋利的藤蔓中他奋力前进,鲜血流淌在光身子上。 就在陡峭的上坡路开始的地方,他停住了。离他身后几码处是莫里斯。 “猪崽子的眼镜!”拉尔夫叫道,“要是火灭了,咱们用得上——” 他闭上了嘴巴,站在那儿,身子有点摇晃。猪崽子的身影刚能被看得见,他从海滩处跌跌撞撞地上来。拉尔夫看看海平线,又朝山上仰望一下。 是不是要拿猪崽子的眼镜?船会开走吗?如果再往上爬,如果火灭了,那岂不是将要眼睁睁地看着猪崽子越爬越近,又看着船慢慢地消失到海平线底下去吗? 紧急关头,难以抉择,拉尔夫苦恼至极,他喊道:“哦,天哪,天哪!”在矮灌木丛中西蒙挣扎前进,喘息着换气,面孔扭曲。 那一缕烟继续在移动,拉尔夫发狂似的慌乱地爬着。 山上的火灭了。他们一眼就看到了他们还在下面海滩上猜到的事情,在火堆产生的烟吸引他们往上跑的时候就已经猜到。 烟没有了,火也完全熄灭了;看管的人跑开了。还摊着一堆柴火在地上,等着去使用。 拉尔夫转向大海。无边无垠的海平线上除了勉强依稀可辨的一丝烟痕之外什么都没有,它又恢复了含有毫不理会人的心情的那个样子。 拉尔夫沿着岩石跌跌撞撞地,直跑到粉红色的悬崖边上,他对着开走的船的方向尖声叫喊:“回来!回来呀!”他沿着悬崖边来回地跑,脸一直对着大海,发疯似地喊着。 “回来呀!回来呀!”莫里斯和西蒙都到了。他们被拉尔夫眼睛一眨不眨地望着。西蒙转头去抹脸上的汗水。拉尔夫怒火中烧,恨得咬牙切齿。 “他们让那性命攸关的火灭了。”他俯瞰着一侧冷漠的山。 猪崽子气喘吁吁地也赶到了,象个小家伙那样呜呜地直哭。拉尔夫紧握拳头,满脸通红。猪崽子坚定的眼光、他那痛苦的声音把山下的情况告诉了拉尔夫。 “他们来啦。”远远的山脚下,靠近水边的粉红色的岩屑堆上,有一支队伍出现了。 其中有些孩子头戴黑帽,除此以外他们几乎都光着身子。他们每走到一块平坦的地方,就同时把手中的树枝往空中举起来。 他们唱着歌儿,歌的内容与到处乱跑的双胞胎小心翼翼地抬着的一捆什么东西有关。 即使在那样的距离之外,拉尔夫一眼就认出了高高的个子、红头发,照例领着队伍的杰克。 西蒙这会儿看看拉尔夫又看看杰克,就象刚才他看看拉尔夫又看看海平线一样;眼前的景象使他有点害怕。 拉尔夫不再说什么,只是等着那队伍越来越近。 歌唱声只能依稀地听到,但在那样的距离还听不清歌词。 双胞胎肩上扛着一根大木桩,跟在杰克后面,木桩上吊着一只沉沉的、除去了内脏的左右晃荡的死猪;两人吃力地走在颠簸的路上。 颈脖豁裂的猪头垂荡着,似乎是在地上寻找什么东西。掠过焦木和余烬形成的小盆地的歌词终于飘入他们的耳朵。 “杀野猪哟。割喉咙哟。放它血哟。”当能听清的时候,那支队伍已走到了山坡最陡峭的部分,过了一两分钟歌声远去了。 西蒙赶紧嘘着和正啜泣的猪崽子。叫他别出声,就好象猪崽子在教堂里大声说话一样。 第一个爬上山顶的是满脸涂着泥巴的杰克,他举着长矛,激动地朝拉尔夫欢呼道:“瞧哪!我们宰了头猪——我们悄悄地扑上去——组成一个包围圈——” 猎手中爆发出喊声。 “我们组成一个包围圈——” “我们匍匐向上——” “野猪吱喳乱叫——” 在那儿站着的双胞胎,死猪在他们之间晃荡着,黑血滴落到岩石上。 两人都张大着嘴巴,得意地笑着。 杰克似乎有许多话要与拉尔夫说。 不过他没出声,却手舞足蹈地跳了一两步;随之他记起要在他们之中树立新形象,保持自己的尊严,就又站住了脚,龇牙咧嘴地笑着。 他看到了手上的血,作了个表示厌恶的怪相,找了点东西擦擦,随后又在短裤上揩揩手,笑起来。 拉尔夫开口说:“你们让火给灭了。” 杰克愣了一下,这件不相干的事使他隐约感到有点恼火,但他的快活劲儿超过了此时的恼怒。 “火我们是可以再生起来的。你该跟我们在一起,拉尔夫,真够刺激;双胞胎把野猪打翻在地——” “野猪被我们打中了——” “——我扑到它背上——” “我捅猪的喉咙,” 杰克不由自主地抽动身子一下,洋洋自得地说着。 “拉尔夫,我可以借你的刀用一下吗?在刀柄上刻一道条痕。” 孩子们叽叽喳喳地说着话,跳着舞。双胞胎还在咧着嘴笑。 “血流了好多,”杰克说道,边笑边发抖,“如果你跟我们在一起就会看见了!” “以后每天我们都要去打猎——”拉尔夫嘶哑着嗓门,又开口了,他一直没移动过。 “你们把火弄灭了。”第二次说这句话时,使杰克不安起来。 他看看双胞胎,接着又回过头来看着拉尔夫。 “我们必须让他们去打猎,”他说道:“人太少就不能组成一个包围圈。” 他意识到自己犯了失职的过错,因而脸变红了。 “一两个钟头之前火才灭的。我们可以再把它生起来——” 他看到拉尔夫裸体上的疤痕,并觉察到他们四个人都一声不吭。 杰克因快活而变得大方起来,他想让大家来分享刚才打猎时的欢乐。 他的脑子让回忆塞得满满的:他回想起他们逼近那头挣扎着的野猪时所发生的情景;他回想起他们怎样智胜那头活家伙,把自己的意志强加于它身上,最终结束它的性命,就象享受了那香味常驻的醇酒。 他将两条手臂展开。 “你真应该看到那血!”此时那些猎手们的声音本已经静下去,可一听到这话他们又热热闹闹地说开了。 拉尔夫往后甩甩头发,一条手臂指向空荡的海平线。他的声音又响又粗野,把猎手们吓得不敢出声。 “那儿有过一条船。”杰克突然面临着大家这么多可怕的敌意,躲闪着走开。他一手拔出刀子,一手放到猪上。 拉尔夫收回手臂,紧握着拳头,声音颤抖地说:“在那儿。有过一条船。你说你来照看火堆的,可你让火熄灭了!” 他朝杰克迈上一步,杰克转身面对着他。 “他们本来可能会发现咱们。说不定咱们就可以回家了——” 这种损失对猪崽子来讲打击太沉重,痛苦使他的胆量也变大了,他尖声地叫嚷起来:“你们!你们的鲜血!杰克•梅瑞狄!你们!你们的打猎!咱们本来可能已经回家了——” 拉尔夫朝边一推猪崽子。“我是头头;你们要听我的。你们光会说。可是你们连茅屋都搭不起来——然后你们就跑开去打猎,让火熄灭了——” 他转过脸去,沉默片刻。然后随着感情的极大冲动,又把他的声音抬高了。 “有过一条船——”一个较小的猎手开始嚎啕大哭。 这个事实实在令人沮丧,在每个孩子的心里此刻都有一种压抑感。杰克边砍边把猪肉扯下来,脸涨得通红通红。 “这么多的活儿。我们每人都得动手。”拉尔夫转过身来说道:“本来搭完窝棚你就可以有足够的人手,但你们就是要去打猎——” “咱们需要肉。” 杰克边说边站起身来,血淋淋的刀子拿在手里。两个男孩相互对望。一边是打猎、运用策略、欣喜若狂、技巧娴熟的灿烂世界;另一边是渴望与遭受了挫折的常识交织在一起的世界。 杰克把刀移到左手;在往后捋粘在前额上的头发的时候,弄得前额上涂满了血迹。 猪崽子又说话了。 “火不该被你们弄灭。你们说过你们要一直保持有烟的——”从猪崽子嘴里说出这话,再加上有些猎手哭哭啼啼地表示同意,气得杰克粗野起来。 他蓝眼睛里发出的光直射向人群中。 他跨前一步,伸手对准猪崽子的肚子就是一拳,猪崽子倒在地上哼哼着。 杰克站在他面前,居高临下地看着他。因为觉得受了侮辱,杰克气凶凶地说:“你敢,你还敢吗?胖子!” 拉尔夫上前一步,而杰克啪地把猪崽子的脑袋瓜掴了一下。 猪崽子的眼镜飞脱出去,伴着叮口当一声砸在岩石上,他吓得叫喊起来:“我的眼镜!” 他蹲着身子,在岩石上找寻着,可西蒙先到一步,为猪崽子找到了眼镜。 在这山顶上、在自己周围,西蒙感到,有一种可怕的激情在膨胀着。 “一片碎了。”猪崽子一把将眼镜抓过来,戴到鼻梁上。他仇恨地看着杰克。 “我不能不戴眼镜。现在我只有一只眼睛了。你等着瞧——” 杰克朝猪崽子靠近,猪崽子忙爬到一块大岩石的后面,那岩石横在他们俩之间。 他把头从岩石上探出来,透过那片闪光的眼镜瞪着杰克。 “我现在只有一只眼睛了。你等着瞧吧——”杰克模仿着猪崽子的哭腔和爬相。 “你等着瞧吧——哇!”杰克学着猪崽子的模样做出的怪相太滑稽了,猎手们都被逗乐了。 杰克更起劲了,他继续东爬西爬,大伙儿的笑声变成了一种歇斯底里的嚎叫。 拉尔夫心里很不高兴,感到自己的嘴唇在抽动;他为自己的让步而生气。 他咕哝着说:“这个把戏真是肮脏。”杰克不再转动身子,对着拉尔夫站起来。 他大声叫道:“好吧,好吧!”他看看猪崽子,看看猎手们,又看看拉尔夫。 “对不起。让火灭了,我很抱歉。你瞧。我——”他挺直一下身子。“——我赔不就是了。” 猎手们嘁嘁喳喳地赞扬表示这样大方的举动。 显然他们都认为,杰克做得漂亮,他爽爽快快地道了歉,他就已经没错了,而拉尔夫倒是错了,只是还讲不清楚错在哪里。 他们等待拉尔夫做出恰当的、体面的反应。 然而那样的漂亮话拉尔夫是说不出来的。杰克已经把事情弄坏了,还要这样花言巧语,拉尔夫对此满腔愤恨。 火灭了,船跑了。他们难道没看见?他讲不出漂亮话,他这时只能发泄愤怒。 “这个把戏真卑鄙。”在山顶上他们沉默着,一种猜测不定的神色出现在杰克的眼睛里,随之又消失了。 末了这一句是拉尔夫不合人意的怨言。 “好吧好吧。来点火吧。”由于面前有着实际的事情要做,缓和了一下紧张的气氛。 拉尔夫闷声不响,也不动手,站在那里看着脚下的灰烬。 杰克很卖力气地大声嚷嚷。 他一会儿发号施令,一会儿唱唱歌,一会儿吹吹口哨,不时向情绪低落的拉尔夫瞥一下——这种目光并不要求答话,因此也不会招来奚落;拉尔夫仍一言不发。 没有一个人,包括杰克,去要他挪动一下,结果他们只好把火堆搭在三码远的地方,而那地方却很不方便。 拉尔夫就这样维护了他当头头的地位;这是个好方法,即使他再思量几天,也不会想出更好的办法来。 对这样一个如此不可言传而又如此有效的武器,杰克毫无反击之力,他感到愤怒,却又找不到愤怒的原因。 等到火堆搭了起来,他们俩就象是处于一道高高的屏障的两侧。 搭好火堆之后,新的危机又出现了。杰克没法子生火。随后,使杰克吃了一惊,拉尔夫向猪崽子径直走去,取走了他的眼镜。 甚至连拉尔夫也搞不清楚,他跟杰克之间的纽带怎么突然被扯断了,又在别的什么地方给接上了。 “我会拿回来还你的。” “我也去。” 在他背后站着的猪崽子,处于一片无意义的色彩的包围之中;拉尔夫跪在地上,为了聚焦而移动眼镜。顷刻间火点着了,猪崽子伸手一把拿回眼镜。 不友好的感情溶化在这些奇异而迷人的紫、红、黄三种颜色的花朵面前。他们重新成了一圈围着营火的孩子,甚至连猪崽子和拉尔夫也有点被吸引住了。 一些孩子不一会儿就冲下山坡去再把柴火拾来,杰克则砍着死猪。 他们想把木桩上的整个猪身架在火上,可还没等猪烤熟,木桩就烧断了。 最后他们只好伸进火里去烤串在树枝上的小肉片:烤肉的时候孩子也几乎象肉一样地被烤着。 馋涎欲滴的拉尔夫本想拒绝吃这猪肉,但因为过去一直吃水果和坚果,偶尔捉条把鱼,弄到只蟹,这诱惑使他难以抵挡。 他接过一块半生不熟的猪肉,象一只狼似地咬起来。 猪崽子也在淌口水,说:“就没我一份?” 杰克原本不打算解释给猪崽子的,想借此成为维护自己权力的一种手段;可是猪崽子这样公然提出他被忽略,使杰克觉得应该对他更加无情一点。 “你没去打猎。” “拉尔夫也没去,”猪崽子眼里噙着泪花说道,“还有西蒙也没去。”他大声地说。“肉差不多都让你们给吃了。” 拉尔夫惶恐地动弹了一下。 西蒙正坐在双胞胎和猪崽子之间,他擦擦嘴巴,把在岩石上他的那块肉推给猪崽子,后者忙一把攥住。 双胞胎格格地笑起来,西蒙不好意思地低下了头。 然后杰克跳了起来,随手砍下一大块肉,扔在西蒙脚下。 “吃吧!他妈的!”他瞪着西蒙。“拿着!”他用脚跟着地旋转着身子,成了一圈手足无措的孩子们的中心。 “我给你们吃肉!”不断地难以言传的挫折交织在一起,使他狂怒起来,令人生畏。 “我涂好了脸——我悄悄地上去。现在你们吃肉——你们都吃肉——而我——” 慢慢地,山顶上静得能清晰地听见火的噼噼剥剥声和烤肉很轻的嘶嘶声。 杰克环顾四周,想寻求理解,然而却只发现敬意。拉尔夫站在曾作为信号火堆的灰烬中,两只手都拿着肉,一声不吭。 到头来还是莫里斯打破了沉默。他换了个话题,大多数的孩子能被这个话题连结在一起。 “这头猪,你们是在哪儿发现的?”罗杰朝下指指山的冷漠的一侧。 “在那儿——靠海边。”这时杰克恢复了过来,别人来讲他的故事这是他所不能容忍的,连忙插进来说:“我们把包围圈张开。我让手和膝盖着地爬过去。长矛上没有倒钩,投上去就会掉下来,野猪开始逃跑,怕人似地大声乱叫。” “可它折了回来,跑进了包围圈,鲜血淋淋——”孩子们你一句我一句地讲起来,情绪激动,一时竟忘了刚才紧张的气氛。 “我们围上去——” “它的两条后脚一下就被我们打瘫了,于是包围圈越缩越小,大伙儿揍啊揍啊——“我把野猪的喉咙砍断了——” 双胞胎仍然龇牙咧嘴地笑着,笑得很象,他们跳起来,兜着圈互相追逐。接着其余的也朝他们奔去,学野猪临死时的惨叫,并大喊大嚷: “猪脑瓜上揍一下!” “给他狠狠来一下!”于是莫里斯尖叫着扮作一头野猪,跑到了当中,而猎手们仍围着圈,做出揍他的样子。 他们边跳边唱:“杀野猪啦。割喉咙啦。狠狠揍啊。” 拉尔夫注视着他们,既妒忌又气恼。不等他们兴致低落,歌声消失,他就说道:“我要召开大会。” 孩子们都收住脚,站在那儿看着他。 “我有海螺。哪怕咱们不得不走到黑暗中去。到下面那个平台上我也要召开大会。我一吹就开会。现在就去。”转身就跑的他,朝山下走去。 Chapter 5 Beast from Water   The tide was coming in and there was only a narrow strip of firm beach between the water and the white, stumbling stuff near the palm terrace. Ralph chose the firm strip as a path because he needed to think, and only here could he allow his feet to move without having to watch them. Suddenly, pacing by the water, he was overcome with astonishment. He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one's waking life was spent watching one's feet. He stopped, facing the strip; and remembering that first enthusiastic exploration as though it were part of a brighter childhood, he smiled jeeringly. He turned then and walked back toward the platform with the sun in his face. The time had come for the assembly and as he walked into the concealing splendors of the sunlight he went carefully over the points of his speech. There must be no mistake about this assembly, no chasing imaginary. . . .   He lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them. Frowning, he tried again.   This meeting must not be fun, but business.   At that he walked faster, aware all at once of urgency and the declining sun and a little wind created by his speed that breathed about his face. This wind pressed his grey shirt against his chest so that he noticed--in this new mood of comprehension--how the folds were stiff like cardboard, and unpleasant; noticed too how the frayed edges of his shorts were making an uncomfortable, pink area on the front of his thighs. With a convulsion of the mind, Ralph discovered dirt and decay, understood how much he disliked perpetually flicking the tangled hair out of his eyes, and at last, when the sun was gone, rolling noisily to rest among dry leaves. At that he began to trot.   The beach near the bathing pool was dotted with groups of boys waiting for the assembly. They made way for him silently, conscious of his grim mood and the fault at the fire.   The place of assembly in which he stood was roughly a triangle; but irregular and sketchy, like everything they made. First there was the log on which he himself sat; a dead tree that must have been quite exceptionally big for the platform. Perhaps one of those legendary storms of the Pacific had shifted it here. This palm trunk lay parallel to the beach, so that when Ralph sat he faced the island but to the boys was a darkish figure against the shimmer of the lagoon. The two sides of the triangle of which the log was base were less evenly defined. On the right was a log polished by restless seats along the top, but not so large as the chief's and not so comfortable. On the left were four small logs, one of them--the farthest--lamentably springy. Assembly after assembly had broken up in laughter when someone had leaned too far back and the log had whipped and thrown half a dozen boys backwards into the grass. Yet now, he saw, no one had had the wit--not himself nor Jack, nor Piggy--to bring a stone and wedge the thing. So they would continue enduring the ill-balanced twister, because, because. . . . Again he lost himself in deep waters.   Grass was worn away in front of each trunk but grew tall and untrodden in the center of the triangle. Then, at the apex, the grass was thick again because no one sat there. All round the place of assembly the grey trunks rose, straight or leaning, and supported the low roof of leaves. On two sides was the beach; behind, the lagoon; in front, the darkness of the island.   Ralph turned to the chief's seat. They had never had an assembly as late before. That was why the place looked so different. Normally the underside of the green roof was lit by a tangle of golden reflections, and their faces were lit upside down--like, thought Ralph, when you hold an electric torch in your hands. But now the sun was slanting in at one side, so that the shadows were where they ought to be.   Again he fell into that strange mood of speculation that was so foreign to him. If faces were different when lit from above or below--what was a face? What was anything?   Ralph moved impatiently. The trouble was, if you were a chief you had to think, you had to be wise. And then the occasion slipped by so that you had to grab at a decision. This made you think; because thought was a valuable thing, that got results. . . .   Only, decided Ralph as he faced the chief's seat, I can't think. Not like Piggy.   Once more that evening Ralph had to adjust his values. Piggy could think. He could go step by step inside that fat head of his, only Piggy was no chief. But Piggy, for all his ludicrous body, had brains. Ralph was a specialist in thought now, and could recognize thought in another.   The sun in his eyes reminded him how time was passing, so he took the conch down from the tree and examined the surface. Exposure to the air had bleached the yellow and pink to near-white, and transparency. Ralph felt a kind of affectionate reverence for the conch, even though he had fished the thing out of the lagoon himself. He faced the place of assembly and put the conch to his lips.   The others were waiting for this and came straight away. Those who were aware that a ship had passed the island while the fire was out were subdued by the thought of Ralph's anger; while those, including the littluns who did not know, were impressed by the general air of solemnity. The place of assembly filled quickly; Jack, Simon, Maurice, most of the hunters, on Ralph's right; the rest on the left, under the sun. Piggy came and stood outside the triangle. This indicated that he wished to listen, but would not speak; and Piggy intended it as a gesture of disapproval.   "The thing is: we need an assembly."   No one said anything but the faces turned to Ralph were intent. He flourished the conch. He had learnt as a practical business that fundamental statements like this had to be said at least twice, before everyone understood them. One had to sit, attracting all eyes to the conch, and drop words like heavy round stones among the little groups that crouched or squatted. He was searching his mind for simple words so that even the littluns would understand what the assembly was about. Later perhaps, practiced debaters--Jack, Maurice, Piggy--would use their whole art to twist the meeting: but now at the beginning the subject of the debate must be laid out clearly.   "We need an assembly. Not for fun. Not for laughing and falling off the log"--the group of littluns on the twister giggled and looked at each other--"not for making jokes, or for"--he lifted the conch in an effort to find the compelling word--"for cleverness. Not for these things. But to put things straight."   He paused for a moment.   "I've been alone. By myself I went, thinking what's what. I know what we need. An assembly to put things straight. And first of all, I'm speaking."   He paused for a moment and automatically pushed back his hair. Piggy tiptoed to the triangle, his ineffectual protest made, and joined the others.   Ralph went on.   "We have lots of assemblies. Everybody enjoys speaking and being together. We decide things. But they don't get done. We were going to have water brought from the stream and left in those coconut shells under fresh leaves. So it was, for a few days. Now there's no water. The shells are dry. People drink from the river."   There was a murmur of assent.   "Not that there's anything wrong with drinking from the river. I mean I'd sooner have water from that place-- you know, the pool where the waterfall is--than out of an old coconut shell. Only we said we'd have the water brought. And now not. There were only two full shells there this afternoon."   He licked his lips.   "Then there's huts. Shelters."   The murmur swelled again and died away.   "You mostly sleep in shelters. Tonight, except for Samneric up by the fire, you'll all sleep there. Who built the shelters?"   Clamor rose at once. Everyone had built the shelters. Ralph had to wave the conch once more.   "Wait a minute! I mean, who built all three? We all built the first one, four of us the second one, and me 'n Simon built the last one over there. That's why it's so tottery. No. Don't laugh. That shelter might fall down if the rain comes back. We'll need those shelters then."   He paused and cleared his throat.   "There's another thing. We chose those rocks right along beyond the bathing pool as a lavatory. That was sensible too. The tide cleans the place up. You littluns know about that."   There were sniggers here and there and swift glances.   "Now people seem to use anywhere. Even near the shelters and the platform. You littluns, when you're getting fruit; if you're taken short--"   The assembly roared.   "I said if you're taken short you keep away from the fruit. That's dirty!"   Laughter rose again.   "I said that's dirty!"   He plucked at his stiff, grey shirt.   "That's really dirty. If you're taken short you go right along the beach to the rocks. See?"   Piggy held out his hands for the conch but Ralph shook his head. His speech was planned, point by point.   "We've all got to use the rocks again. This place is getting dirty." He paused. The assembly, sensing a crisis, was tensely expectant. "And then: about the fire."   Ralph let out his spare breath with a little gasp that was echoed by his audience. Jack started to chip a piece of wood with his knife and whispered something to Robert, who looked away.   "The fire is the most important thing on the island. How can we ever be rescued except by luck, if we don't keep a fire going? Is a fire too much for us to make?"   He flung out an arm.   "Look at us! How many are we? And yet we can't keep a fire going to make smoke. Don't you understand? Can't you see we ought to--ought to die before we let the fire out?"   There was a self-conscious giggling among the hunters. Ralph turned on them passionately.   "You hunters! You can laugh! But I tell you the smoke is more important than the pig, however often you kill one. Do all of you see?" He spread his arms wide and turned to the whole triangle.   "We've got to make smoke up there--or die."   He paused, feeling for his next point.   "And another thing."   Someone called out.   "Too many things."   There came a mutter of agreement. Ralph overrode them.   "And another thing. We nearly set the whole island on fire. And we waste time, rolling rocks, and making little cooking fires. Now I say this and make it a rule, because I'm chief. We won't have a fire anywhere but on the mountain. Ever."   There was a row immediately. Boys stood up and shouted and Ralph shouted back.   "Because if you want a fire to cook fish or crab, you can jolly well go up the mountain. That way we'll be certain."   Hands were reaching for the conch in the light of the setting sun. He held on and leapt on the trunk.   "All this I meant to say. Now I've said it. You voted me for chief. Now you do what I say."   They quieted, slowly, and at last were seated again. Ralph dropped down and spoke in his ordinary voice.   "So remember. The rocks for a lavatory. Keep the fire going and smoke showing as a signal. Don't take fire from the mountain. Take your food up there."   Jack stood up, scowling in the gloom, and held out his hands.   "I haven't finished yet."   "But you've talked and talked!"   "I've got the conch."   Jack sat down, grumbling.   "Then the last thing. This is what people can talk about."   He waited till the platform was very still.   "Things are breaking up. I don't understand why. We began well; we were happy. And then--"   He moved the conch gently, looking beyond them at nothing, remembering the beastie, the snake, the fire, the talk of fear.   "Then people started getting frightened."   A murmur, almost a moan, rose and passed away. Jack had stopped whittling. Ralph went on, abruptly.   "But that's littluns' talk. We'll get that straight. So the last part, the bit we can all talk about, is kind of deciding on the fear."   The hair was creeping into his eyes again.   "We've got to talk about this fear and decide there's nothing in it. I'm frightened myself, sometimes; only that's nonsense! Like bogies. Then, when we've decided, we can start again and be careful about things like the fire." A picture of three boys walking along the bright beach flitted through his mind. "And be happy."   Ceremonially, Ralph laid the conch on the trunk beside him as a sign that the speech was over. What sunlight reached them was level.   Jack stood up and took the conch.   "So this is a meeting to find out what's what. I'll tell you what's what. You littluns started all this, with the fear talk. Beasts! Where from? Of course we're frightened sometimes but we put up with being frightened. Only Ralph says you scream in the night. What does that mean but nightmares? Anyway, you don't hunt or build or help--you're a lot of cry-babies and sissies. That's what. And as for the fear--you'll have to put up with that like the rest of us."   Ralph looked at Jack open-mouthed, but Jack took no notice.   "The thing is--fear can't hurt you any more than a dream. There aren't any beasts to be afraid of on this island." He looked along the row of whispering littluns. "Serve you right if something did get you, you useless lot of cry-babies! But there is no animal--"   Ralph interrupted him testily.   "What is all this? Who said anything about an animal?"   "You did, the other day. You said they dream and cry out. Now they talk--not only the littluns, but my hunters sometimes--talk of a thing, a dark thing, a beast, some sort of animal. I've heard. You thought not, didn't you? Now listen. You don't get big animals on small islands. Only pigs. You only get lions and tigers in big countries like Africa and India--"   "And the Zoo--"   "I've got the conch. I'm not talking about the fear. I'm talking about the beast. Be frightened if you like. But as for the beast--"   Jack paused, cradling the conch, and turned to his hunters with their dirty black caps.   "Am I a hunter or am I not?"   They nodded, simply. He was a hunter all right. No one doubted that.   "Well then--I've been all over this island. By myself. If there were a beast I'd have seen it. Be frightened because you're like that--but there is no beast in the forest."   Jack handed back the conch and sat down. The whole assembly applauded him with relief. Then Piggy held out his hand.   "I don't agree with all Jack said, but with some. 'Course there isn't a beast in the forest. How could there be?   What would a beast eat?"   "Pig."   "We eat pig."   "Piggy!"   "I got the conch!" said Piggy indignantly. "Ralph-- they ought to shut up, oughtn't they? You shut up, you littluns! What I mean is that I don't agree about this here fear. Of course there isn't nothing to be afraid of in the forest. Why--I been there myself! You'll be talking about ghosts and such things next. We know what goes on and if there's something wrong, there's someone to put it right."   He took off his glasses and blinked at them. The sun had gone as if the light had been turned off.   He proceeded to explain.   "If you get a pain in your stomach, whether it's a little one or a big one--"   "Yours is a big one."   "When you done laughing perhaps we can get on with the meeting. And if them littluns climb back on the twister again they'll only fall off in a sec. So they might as well sit on the ground and listen. No. You have doctors for everything, even the inside of your mind. You don't really mean that we got to be frightened all the time of nothing? Life," said Piggy expansively, "is scientific, that's what it is. In a year or two when the war's over they'll be traveling to Mars and back. I know there isn't no beast--not with claws and all that, I mean--but I know there isn't no fear, either."   Piggy paused.   "Unless--"   Ralph moved restlessly.   "Unless what?"   "Unless we get frightened of people."   A sound, half-laugh, half-jeer, rose among the seated boys. Piggy ducked his head and went on hastily.   "So let's hear from that littlun who talked about a beast and perhaps we can show him how silly he is."   The littluns began to jabber among themselves, then one stood forward.   "What's your name?"   "Phil."   For a littlun he was self-confident, holding out his hands, cradling the conch as Ralph did, looking round at them to collect their attention before he spoke.   "Last night I had a dream, a horrid dream, fighting with things. I was outside the shelter by myself, fighting with things, those twisty things in the trees."   He paused, and the other littluns laughed in horrified sympathy.   "Then I was frightened and I woke up. And I was outside the shelter by myself in the dark and the twisty things had gone away."   The vivid horror of this, so possible and so nakedly terrifying, held them all silent. The child's voice went piping on from behind the white conch.   "And I was frightened and started to call out for Ralph and then I saw something moving among the trees, something big and horrid."   He paused, half-frightened by the recollection yet proud of the sensation he was creating.   "That was a nightmare," said Ralph. "He was walking in his sleep."   The assembly murmured in subdued agreement.   The littlun shook his head stubbornly.   "I was asleep when the twisty things were fighting and when they went away I was awake, and I saw something big and horrid moving in the trees."   Ralph held out his hands for the conch and the littlun sat down.   "You were asleep. There wasn't anyone there. How could anyone be wandering about in the forest at night? Was anyone? Did anyone go out?"   There was a long pause while the assembly grinned at the thought of anyone going out in the darkness. Then Simon stood up and Ralph looked at him in astonishment.   "You! What were you mucking about in the dark for?"   Simon grabbed the conch convulsively.   "I wanted--to go to a place--a place I know."   "What place?"   "Just a place I know. A place in the jungle." He hesitated.   Jack settled the question for them with that contempt in his voice that could sound so funny and so final.   "He was taken short."   With a feeling of humiliation on Simon's behalf, Ralph took back the conch, looking Simon sternly in the face as he did so.   "Well, don't do it again. Understand? Not at night. There's enough silly talk about beasts, without the littluns seeing you gliding about like a--"   The derisive laughter that rose had fear in it and condemnation. Simon opened his mouth to speak but Ralph had the conch, so he backed to his seat.   When the assembly was silent Ralph turned to Piggy.   "Well, Piggy?"   "There was another one. Him."   The littluns pushed Percival forward, then left him by himself. He stood knee-deep in the central grass, looking at his hidden feet, trying to pretend he was in a tent. Ralph remembered another small boy who had stood like this and he flinched away from the memory. He had pushed the thought down and out of sight, where only some positive reminder like this could bring it to the surface. There had been no further numberings of the littluns, partly because there was no means of insuring that all of them were accounted for and partly because Ralph knew the answer to at least one question Piggy had asked on the mountaintop. There were little boys, fair, dark, freckled, and all dirty, but their faces were all dreadfully free of major blemishes. No one had seen the mulberry-colored birthmark again. But that time Piggy had coaxed and bullied. Tacitly admitting that he remembered the unmentionable, Ralph nodded to Piggy.   "Go on. Ask him."   Piggy knelt, holding the conch.   "Now then. What's your name?"   The small boy twisted away into his tent. Piggy turned helplessly to Ralph, who spoke sharply.   "What's your name?"   Tormented by the silence and the refusal the assembly broke into a chant.   "What's your name? What's your name?"   "Quiet!"   Ralph peered at the child in the twilight.   "Now tell us. What's your name?"   "Percival Wemys Madison. The Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony, Hants, telephone, telephone, tele--"   As if this information was rooted far down in the springs of sorrow, the littlun wept. His face puckered, the tears leapt from his eyes, his mouth opened till they could see a square black hole. At first he was a silent effigy of sorrow; but then the lamentation rose out of him, loud and sustained as the conch.   "Shut up, you! Shut up!"   Percival Wemys Madison would not shut up. A spring had been tapped, far beyond the reach of authority or even physical intimidation. The crying went on, breath after breath, and seemed to sustain him upright as if he were nailed to it.   "Shut up! Shut up!"   For now the littluns were no longer silent. They were reminded of their personal sorrows; and perhaps felt themselves to share in a sorrow that was universal. They began to cry in sympathy, two of them almost as loud as Percival.   Maurice saved them. He cried out.   "Look at me!"   He pretended to fall over. He rubbed his rump and sat on the twister so that he fell in the grass. He downed badly; but Percival and the others noticed and sniffed and laughed. Presently they were all laughing so absurdly that the biguns joined in.   Jack was the first to make himself heard. He had not got the conch and thus spoke against the rules; but nobody minded.   "And what about the beast?"   Something strange was happening to Percival. He yawned and staggered, so that Jack seized and shook him.   "Where does the beast live?"   Percival sagged in Jack's grip.   "That's a clever beast," said Piggy, jeering, "if it can hide on this island."   "Jack's been everywhere--"   "Where could a beast live?"   "Beast my foot!"   Percival muttered something and the assembly laughed again. Ralph leaned forward.   "What does he say?"   Jack listened to Percival's answer and then let go of him. Percival, released, surrounded by the comfortable presence of humans, fell in the long grass and went to sleep.   Jack cleared his throat, then reported casually.   "He says the beast comes out of the sea."   The last laugh died away. Ralph turned involuntarily, a black, humped figure against the lagoon. The assembly looked with him, considered the vast stretches of water, the high sea beyond, unknown indigo of infinite possibility, heard silently the sough and whisper from the reef.   Maurice spoke, so loudly that they jumped.   "Daddy said they haven't found all the animals in the sea yet."   Argument started again. Ralph held out the glimmering conch and Maurice took it obediently. The meeting subsided.   "I mean when Jack says you can be frightened because people are frightened anyway that's all right. But when he says there's only pigs on this island I expect he's right but he doesn't know, not really, not certainly I mean--" Maurice took a breath. "My daddy says there's things, what d'you call'em that make ink--squids--that are hundreds of yards long and eat whales whole." He paused again and laughed gaily. "I don't believe in the beast of course. As Piggy says, life's scientific, but we don't know, do we? Not certainly, I mean--"   Someone shouted.   "A squid couldn't come up out of the water!"   "Could!"   "Couldn't!"   In a moment the platform was full of arguing, gesticulating shadows. To Ralph, seated, this seemed the breaking up of sanity. Fear, beasts, no general agreement that the fire was all-important: and when one tried to get the thing straight the argument sheered off, bringing up fresh, unpleasant matter.   He could see a whiteness in the gloom near him so he grabbed it from Maurice and blew as loudly as he could. The assembly was shocked into silence. Simon was close to him, laying hands on the conch. Simon felt a perilous necessity to speak; but to speak in assembly was a terrible thing to him.   "Maybe," he said hesitantly, "maybe there is a beast."   The assembly cried out savagely and Ralph stood up in amazement.   "You, Simon? You believe in this?"   "I don't know," said Simon. His heartbeats were choking him. "But. . . ."   The storm broke.   "Sit down!"   "Shut up!"   "Take the conch!"   "Sod you!"   "Shut up!"   Ralph shouted.   "Hear him! He's got the conch!"   "What I mean is . . . maybe it's only us."   "Nuts!"   That was from Piggy, shocked out of decorum. Simon went on.   "We could be sort of. . . ."   Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind's essential illness. Inspiration came to him.   "What's the dirtiest thing there is?"   As an answer Jack dropped into the uncomprehending silence that followed it the one crude expressive syllable. Release was immense. Those littluns who had climbed back on the twister fell off again and did not mind. The hunters were screaming with delight.   Simon's effort fell about him in ruins; the laughter beat him cruelly and he shrank away defenseless to his seat.   At last the assembly was silent again. Someone spoke out of turn.   "Maybe he means it's some sort of ghost."   Ralph lifted the conch and peered into the gloom. The lightest thing was the pale beach. Surely the littluns were nearer? Yes--there was no doubt about it, they were huddled into a tight knot of bodies in the central grass. A flurry of wind made the palms talk and the noise seemed very loud now that darkness and silence made it so noticeable. Two grey trunks rubbed each other with an evil speaking that no one had noticed by day.   Piggy took the conch out of his hands. His voice was indignant.   "I don't believe in no ghosts--ever!"   Jack was up too, unaccountably angry.   "Who cares what you believe--Fatty!"   "I got the conch!"   There was the sound of a brief tussle and the conch moved to and fro.   "You gimme the conch back!"   Ralph pushed between them and got a thump on the chest. He wrestled the conch from someone and sat down breathlessly.   "There's too much talk about ghosts. We ought to have left all this for daylight."   A hushed and anonymous voice broke in.   "Perhaps that's what the beast is--a ghost."   The assembly was shaken as by a wind.   "There's too much talking out of turn," Ralph said, "because we can't have proper assemblies if you don't stick to the rules."   He stopped again. The careful plan of this assembly had broken down.   "What d'you want me to say then? I was wrong to call this assembly so late. We'll have a vote on them; on ghosts I mean; and then go to the shelters because we're all tired. No--Jack is it?--wait a minute. I'll say here and now that I don't believe in ghosts. Or I don't think I do. But I don't like the thought of them. Not now that is, in the dark. But we were going to decide what's what."   He raised the conch for a moment.   "Very well then. I suppose what's what is whether there are ghosts or not--"   He thought for a moment, formulating the question.   "Who thinks there may be ghosts?"   For a long time there was silence and no apparent movement. Then Ralph peered into the gloom and made out the hands. He spoke flatly.   "I see."   The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away. Once there was this and that; and now-- and the ship had gone.   The conch was snatched from his hands and Piggy's voice shrilled.   "I didn't vote for no ghosts!"   He whirled round on the assembly.   "Remember that, all of you!"   They heard him stamp.   "What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages? What's grownups going to think? Going off--hunting pigs--letting fires out--and now!"   A shadow fronted him tempestuously.   "You shut up, you fat slug!"   There was a moment's struggle and the glimmering conch jigged up and down. Ralph leapt to his feet.   "Jack! Jack! You haven't got the conch! Let him speak."   Jack's face swam near him.   "And you shut up! Who are you, anyway? Sitting there telling people what to do. You can't hunt, you can't sing--"   "I'm chief. I was chosen."   "Why should choosing make any difference? Just giving orders that don't make any sense--"   "Piggy's got the conch."   "That's right--favor Piggy as you always do--"   "Jack!"   Jack's voice sounded in bitter mimicry.   "Jack! Jack!"   "The rules!" shouted Ralph. "You're breaking the rules!"   "Who cares?"   Ralph summoned his wits.   "Because the rules are the only thing we've got!"   But Jack was shouting against him.   "Bollocks to the rules! We're strong--we hunt! If there's a beast, we'll hunt it down! We'll close in and beat and beat and beat--!"   He gave a wild whoop and leapt down to the pale sand. At once the platform was full of noise and excitement, scramblings, screams and laughter. The assembly shredded away and became a discursive and random scatter from the palms to the water and away along the beach, beyond night-sight. Ralph found his cheek touching the conch and took it from Piggy.   "What's grownups going to say?" cried Piggy again. "Look at 'em!"   The sound of mock hunting, hysterical laughter and real terror came from the beach.   "Blow the conch, Ralph."   Piggy was so close that Ralph could see the glint of his one glass.   "There's the fire. Can't they see?"   "You got to be tough now. Make 'em do what you want."   Ralph answered in the cautious voice of one who rehearses a theorem.   "If I blow the conch and they don't come back; then we've had it. We shan't keep the fire going. We'll be like animals. We'll never be rescued."   "If you don't blow, we'll soon be animals anyway. I can't see what they're doing but I can hear."   The dispersed figures had come together on the sand and were a dense black mass that revolved. They were chanting something and littluns that had had enough were staggering away, howling. Ralph raised the conch to his lips and then lowered it.   "The trouble is: Are there ghosts, Piggy? Or beasts?"   "Course there aren't."   "Why not?"   "'Cos things wouldn't make sense. Houses an' streets, an'--TV--they wouldn't work."   The dancing, chanting boys had worked themselves away till their sound was nothing but a wordless rhythm.   "But s'pose they don't make sense? Not here, on this island? Supposing things are watching us and waiting?"   Ralph shuddered violently and moved closer to Piggy, so that they bumped frighteningly.   "You stop talking like that! We got enough trouble, Ralph, an' I've had as much as I can stand. If there is ghosts--''   "I ought to give up being chief. Hear 'em."   "Oh lord! Oh no!"   Piggy gripped Ralph's arm.   "If Jack was chief he'd have all hunting and no fire. We'd be here till we died."   His voice ran up to a squeak.   "Who's that sitting there?"   "Me. Simon."   "Fat lot of good we are," said Ralph. "Three blind mice. I'll give up."   "If you give up," said Piggy, in an appalled whisper, "what 'ud happen to me?"   "Nothing."   "He hates me. I dunno why. If he could do what he wanted--you're all right, he respects you. Besides--you'd hit him."   "You were having a nice fight with him just now."   "I had the conch," said Piggy simply. "I had a right to speak."   Simon stirred in the dark.   "Go on being chief."   "You shut up, young Simon! Why couldn't you say there wasn't a beast?"   "I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breathe. I tell you what. He hates you too, Ralph--"   "Me? Why me?"   "I dunno. You got him over the fire; an' you're chief an' he isn't."   "But he's, he's, Jack Merridew!"   "I been in bed so much I done some thinking. I know about people. I know about me. And him. He can't hurt you: but if you stand out of the way he'd hurt the next thing. And that's me."   "Piggy's right, Ralph. There's you and Jack. Go on being chief."   "We're all drifting and things are going rotten. At home there was always a grownup. Please, sir, please, miss; and then you got an answer. How I wish!"   "I wish my auntie was here."   "I wish my father. . . Oh, what's the use?"   "Keep the fire going."   The dance was over and the hunters were going back to the shelters.   "Grownups know things," said Piggy. "They ain't afraid of the dark. They'd meet and have tea and discuss. Then things 'ud be all right--"   "They wouldn't set fire to the island. Or lose--"   "They'd build a ship--"   The three boys stood in the darkness, striving unsuccessfully to convey the majesty of adult life.   "They wouldn't quarrel--"   "Or break my specs--"   "Or talk about a beast--"   "If only they could get a message to us," cried Ralph desperately. "If only they could send us something grownup. . . a sign or something."   A thin wail out of the darkness chilled them and set them grabbing for each other. Then the wail rose, remote and unearthly,' and turned to an inarticulate gibbering. Percival Wemys Madison, of the Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony, lying in the long grass, was living through circumstances in which the incantation of his address was powerless to help him. 第五章 水中来的怪兽 在海水和棕榈斜坡附近白色的高低不平的地面之间,潮水正在上涨,只剩下一条狭窄的比较坚实的海滩。 因为他需要好好地想一想;只有在这条小路上,他才能放心行走而不必担心被滑倒。 他这样在海边走着,突然大吃一惊。他发现自己领悟了:生活很令人厌倦,每条道路在生活中都是一篇急救章,人们的清醒生活,有相当大一部分是用来照看自己的脚下的。 拉尔夫面对着那条海滩,停下来,想起了热情洋溢的第一次探险,仿佛那已是童年中欢乐的事情,他自嘲地笑了笑。随后他转身,脸上带着阳光,朝平台方向走回去。 开始开会了,他一面走进隐藏起真相的耀眼的太阳光中,一面斟酌演讲的要点。 这次会可绝不能出差错,不能海阔天空,乱扯一通……拉尔夫脑子里一片混乱,由于缺乏表达这种思想的语句,将他弄得一团糊涂。 他皱眉蹙额地再想。这次会不能闹着玩儿,必须是严肃的。想到这儿他把步伐加快,一下子意识到事情紧迫。 夕阳西下,他感觉到自己带起的一股微风吹拂在脸上。 拉尔夫的灰衬衫被微风吹得紧贴在胸前,在这领悟了某种新东西的状态下,他觉得衣褶硬得象卡片纸板那样令人难受;他也注意到在大腿的前部短裤磨损了的边缘擦出了粉红的一块,挺难受的。 拉尔夫心头一震,肮脏和腐朽的东西被他发现了,他了解自己是多么讨厌不断要拂去遮住眼睛的乱发。 多么讨厌每当夕阳西下以后,最后闹哄哄地滚进枯叶堆里去休息。想到这儿,他撒腿小跑起来。 一组组等待开会的孩子散布在靠近洗澡水潭的海滩上。他们意识到拉尔夫正在气头上,也感到让火堆熄灭是做错了,默默地给他让道。 拉尔夫站着的、那块大体上是三角形状的地方用做孩子们开会的场所;但是跟他们做出的任何东西一样,这个三角形是粗略的、不规则的。 首当其冲的是一根拉尔夫独坐的大圆木;这株已柘死的树对原先平台而言一定大得出奇。 也许一次传闻的是太平洋上那种常有飓风把它吹到了这儿。这根棕榈树干处于同海滩平行的方向,因而当拉尔夫坐着、面向海岛时,他却是个背衬亮闪闪环礁湖的,黑糊糊的人影,被孩子们看着。 以这根圆木为底线、三角形的两条边线就更不均等了。 右边也是一根圆木,坐立不安的孩子们已把它磨得光溜溜的了,这根圆木不如头儿坐的那一根大,坐起来也没那么舒坦。 左边是四根小圆木,其中之一——最远的那根——弹性很足。 有人坐得太靠后的时候,那根圆木会突然一动,五六个孩子都被掀翻到后面的草地上去,这种哄笑声把一次又一次的大会给打断。 现在,他看到没有一个人聪明地看到——他自己没有,杰克没有,猪崽子也没有——在圆木底下拿块石头当楔子夹塞住,不让它滚动。 于是他们只好仍然忍受那根摇晃的歪树干,因为,因为……拉尔夫又陷入了困境。 每根树干前的草皮都给磨蹭掉了,但三角形当中的野草却长得高高的,没人踩踏过。此外,因为那儿没人坐。三角形顶端的野草也长得很密。灰色的树干在会场的四周耸立着,它们或直或斜,支撑着低矮的叶盖。 在这两侧是海滩,背后是环礁湖,黑的海岛的本体部分在前面。拉尔夫走到领导的位置上。 以前他们从没有这么晚开会过,因而此刻看来这个地方有点不同。通常绿叶盖的下侧亮着金色的反光,把他们的脸照得下亮上暗,就象——拉尔夫心想,这个情形就象你双手拿着一个电筒。 可是这会儿阳光从一侧斜射进来,阴影也就随着偏向另一侧。 那种拉尔夫对自己如此陌生而奇怪的胡乱猜测又上心头。 要是从上往下照,或是从下往上照,人们的脸会如此异样的话——脸究竟会是什么样子?一切事物又是会成是什么样子?拉尔夫不耐烦地动了一动。麻烦的是,你是个头头,你就得思考,你就得聪明点。 而且机会转瞬即逝,你必须匆忙地作出一个决定。你非得在这种情况下动脑筋,因为思想是个可贵的东西,它会产生成果……只是——拉尔夫面对着头头的位置时判定——我不会思考,不会象猪崽子一样地思考。 拉尔夫在那天晚上不得不又一次重新评定自己的价值。 猪崽子会思考。他会在他那个胖脑瓜子里逐步地推论,只是这个头头的位置不适合猪崽子当。 尽管猪崽子的样子可笑,他却有脑子。拉尔夫现在是个思想专家了,别人的思想他也能鉴赏了。 照到拉尔夫眼睛上的阳光提醒他时间正在过去,于是他从树上拿下海螺,认真地注视着它。 海螺暴露于空气中,淡黄底色和粉红斑点已褪得近于白色,有点儿透明。 拉尔夫对海螺油然而生一种深情的敬意,尽管海螺是被他本人从环礁湖里捞上来的。 他面向会场,唇边放着海螺。 孩子们都赶紧跑来等着开会。 一些孩子知道有艘船曾经过海岛,而火却灭了,他们想到拉尔夫在发怒,不由得放低了声音;还有些孩子,包括小家伙们,不知道那件事,但也深深地体会到整个会场的严肃气氛。 会场很快就被挤得满满的;拉尔夫的右边坐着杰克、西蒙、莫里斯、大多数猎手,剩下的坐在左边,坐在阳光之下。 猪崽子来了,他在三角地的外面站着。这表明他想听,但不打算讲话:这个举动表明了猪崽子的意思里还是表示不同意。 “情况是这样的:咱们需要开个会。”一片沉默,可一张张面孔都转去面向拉尔夫,都专心致志地倾听着。 拉尔夫挥动着海螺。他懂得,必须至少说两遍这样的基本声明,才能让每个人都听懂,这是个惯例。 发言的人必须坐着,海螺把大伙的目光都吸引过来,讲起话来要有气势,就象是把沉甸甸的圆石子扔进一组组蹲伏着或蹲坐着的孩子们当中。他开动着脑筋,寻找简单的语句,以便使得小家伙们也能懂得会议的内容是什么。 说不定过会儿,那几个老爱争论的人——杰克、莫里斯、猪崽子——会使出全套本领来扭转会议的局面:但是要把讨论的主要问题必须在会前讲清楚。 “咱们得开个会。不是为了寻开心。不是为了哈哈笑,从圆木上摔下去,”——格格地笑声从坐在那根歪树干上的小家伙们那儿传来,你瞅瞅我,我瞅瞅你——“不是为了开玩笑,也不是为了”——他把海螺举起,努力寻找一个有说服力的字眼——“耍小聪明。不是为了这些,而是为了把事情搞清楚。”他停顿了一下。“我一个人走在路上,思忖着究竟是怎么回事。我知道咱们需要什么。开个会目的是把事情弄明白。现在我先发言。” 他停了一下,不由自主地把头发往后捋了捋。猪崽子从三角地踮起脚,将他无效的抗议放弃掉,来加入到别的孩子们当中。 拉尔夫接着往下讲。 “咱们开过不少次会了。大家都喜欢聚在一起,都喜欢发言。咱们左决定、右决定;可是决定了的事一件也没做成。咱们决定从那小溪打水,用椰子壳盛水,放在新鲜的绿叶下面。那样只干了几天。现在椰子壳里没水了,是干的。大家从河里直接弄水喝。” 一阵表示赞同的耳语声响起。 “从河里弄水喝并不是说,有什么不好。我也打算从那个地方取水喝——你们知道——就是瀑布下面的那个水潭——而不是喝陈椰子壳里的水。只是咱们说过要喝从小溪里打的水。可现在又不干了。今天下午只有两满壳水在那儿。” 他舔舔嘴唇。“还有茅屋、窝棚的事。”又响起了嘁嘁喳喳的声音,随之又消失了。 “你们许多人睡在窝棚里。今儿晚上,除了萨姆纳里克到山上守着火,你们全都在窝棚里睡。是谁搭的这些窝棚?” 喧声四起。人人都搭过窝棚。 拉尔夫只好再次挥动海螺。 “等一等!我是说,这三个窝棚谁都搭过?第一个大家都有份,第二个只有四个人参加,那边最后一个是我和西蒙搭的,所以它摇摇晃晃。不。别笑了。要是再下大雨,那个窝棚说不定就会塌掉。那时那些窝棚咱们就用得着了。” 他停下来,清清嗓子。“还有一件事。咱们选了一个地方作为厕所:就是洗澡潭那一边再过去一段路的那些岩石。 这也是合理的。那地方会被潮水冲干净。这一点你们小家伙也懂。 ”到处是窃笑声,大家面面相觑。“大家眼下都好象随地大小便,甚至在近旁的窝棚和平台边。你们这些小家伙,要是你们吃着野果;要是你们急着要大小便——” 孩子们活跃起来。“我说,要是你们急着要大小便,就应该远离野果。那太龌龊了。” 一阵哄堂大笑。 “我说那太脏了!” 那件僵硬的灰衬衫被他扯了扯。 “那实在太肮脏了。要是你们急着要大小便,就应该一直沿着海滩走到岩石处去。懂吗?” 猪崽子伸出双手拿海螺,但是拉尔夫摇摇头。 这次演说的过程是仔细思量过的,一个要点紧接一个要点。 “咱们必须全都再到岩石那边去大小便。这个地方越来越脏。” 他停了下来。孩子们产生一种危机感,他们紧张地期待着。 “此外:还有火的事。”拉尔夫把余气吐出,微微地喘息着,听众们也喘了口气。 杰克开始用刀削砍一块木头,还对罗伯特低声地说着什么,罗伯特则往别处看去。 “岛上最重要的事情就是火堆。要是咱们不生着火,那除了凭运气之外,咱们还怎么能得救呢?咱们就连一堆火也看不住吗?” 他奋力挥出一条手臂。 “咱们自己瞧瞧!咱们有多少人呀?一堆冒烟的火居然管不了。你们就不懂吗?难道你们就看不出咱们应该——应该宁可死也不让火灭掉吗?” 猎手中发出一阵忸怩的格格笑声。 拉尔夫激动地向他们转去。 “你们这些猎手!你们就会傻笑!我要让你们知道,烟比猪更重要,尽管你们隔三差五就能宰一头猪。你们全清楚了没有?” 他伸展开双臂,转向整个三角地。 “咱们一定得把烟在山上生起来——要不就完蛋。” 他停下,思考着下一个要点。 “还有一件事。” 有人大声叫喊道:“事情太多了。” 响起了一片表示赞同的抱怨声。拉尔夫置之不理。 “还有件事。整个岛差不多都被咱们烧光了。咱们花费时间,滚滚石头啦,生一些用来煮食的小火堆啦。现在我宣布订下一条规矩,因为我是头头。从现在起,除了在山上,别的地方一律不准生火。” 立刻闹开了。孩子们站起来大叫大嚷,拉尔夫也大声对他们嚷嚷。 “因为,要是你们想煮鱼或蟹,完全可以跑到山上去。咱们说定了。” 好多双手在落日的余辉中,都伸着要拿海螺。拉尔夫紧握海螺,跳到树干上。 “我要说的就这些。我已经说完了。你们选我当头头。就得听我的。” 大家渐渐地安静下来,最后又都坐好了。 拉尔夫从树干上往下一跳,用平常的声调说道:“所以把岩石处当作厕所。大家不要忘记。管着火堆冒烟,作为信号。不要从山上取火种,要到山上去煮吃的。” 杰克站起来,沉默地绷着脸,伸出了双手。 “我还没讲完呢。” “可是你讲个没完没了!” “我拿着海螺。” 杰克咕哝着坐了下去。 “还有最后一件事。这是大家都可以谈论的。” 他直等到平台上一片肃静。 “我不明白事情为什么会搞得乱七八糟的。咱们开始好好的;那时咱们很快活。可后来——”拉尔夫稍微动了一下海螺,目光越过那群孩子,不知在看什么;他想起小野兽、蛇、火堆、这些关于可怕东西的谈论。 “后来这些东西就令大家感到十分恐惧。”一阵喃喃耳语,几乎是呜咽之声,随之又消失了。 杰克停止了削木头。 拉尔夫兀地又说出来:”咱们要弄明白。那是小家伙们的瞎扯。所以最后一部分,咱们都可以谈论的,就是对这可怕的东西作出判定。” 一缕头发又滑进了他的眼睛。 “这些可怕的东西值得咱们讨论一下,弄清楚这里头其实没什么。我自己有时候也恐惧过;只不过那全是胡编乱造!象妖精鬼怪故事一样。然后,当作出判断以后,咱们就可以重新开始,小心看好火堆等各种事情。” 一幅三个男孩在明亮的海滩上行走的图画浮现在拉尔夫的脑海。 “咱们会快活的。” 拉尔夫把海螺按照仪式搁到身旁的树干上,表示他的发言结束了。 照在他们身上的阳光此时已成了水平方向。 海螺被杰克站起拿了过来。 “这么说这次会就是要把事情搞搞清楚。我来告诉你们事情的缘由。谈论那可怕的东西,这一切都是你们这些小家伙开的头。野兽!哪儿来的?虽然我们有时候也害怕,但我们忍着。然而拉尔夫说在夜里你们尖叫乱喊。那不是在做恶梦,又是在做什么呢?不管怎么说,你们既不打猎,也不搭茅屋,又不帮忙——你们全是些爱哭的娃娃和胆小鬼。就是这么回事。至于那可怕的东西——你们得忍着点,要象我们剩下的人学习。” 拉尔夫张嘴看着杰克,可杰克没注意。 “事情就是这样——害怕,就象做梦一样,伤不了你们。在这个岛上没什么野兽让人害怕。” 他的眼光沿着窃窃私语的一排小家伙横扫过去。 “如果真有东西找上你们,那是活该!你们这些没用的哭宝!可就是没有动物——” 拉尔夫试探地将他打断。 “这是怎么回事?谁说过动物了?” “是那一天你说的。你说他们做梦尖叫。现在他们都这么说了——不只是小家伙们,有时候连我的猎手们也这么说——我听他们说过,有一个黑乎乎的东西,一只野兽,一种不知是什么名堂的动物。你觉得没有说过,是不是?那么听着。在小岛上是没有大动物的。这儿只有野兽。你们认为狮子和老虎只有在非洲和印度那样的大地方才能找到——” “还有在动物园里——” “我拿着海螺。我是在讲野兽,不是在讲那可怕的东西。你们要怕尽管怕吧。可是说到野兽——” 杰克停顿了一下,捧着海螺,转向他那些头戴肮脏黑帽子的猎手。 “我是一个猎手不是?” 他们畅快地点了点头;杰克的确是一个猎手,这是勿庸置疑的。 “好——要是有野兽我早就见着了。因为我单独走遍了这个岛。害怕吧,因为你们就是那个样子——但是森林里并没有野兽。” 杰克递回海螺,坐了下去。全体与会者如释重负地向他鼓掌致意。随后猪崽子伸出了手。 “我不完全赞同杰克说的话,有几点除外。森林里哪会有野兽。怎么可能有呢?野兽吃什么呢?” “野猪。” “我们吃猪。” “猪崽子!” “我拿着海螺!”猪崽子不情愿地说道。 “拉尔夫——他们应该住口,是不是?你们这些小家伙,都闭嘴!我指的是我不同意这里有什么可怕的。当然在森林里本身就没什么可害怕的。你们还会讲鬼呀什么的。为啥——我到森林里去过!咱们都知道现在事情怎样了,要是出了什么错误,就该有人来纠正。” 猪崽子取下眼镜,朝大家眨眨眼睛。夕阳西沉了,就象关掉了电灯一样。 他继续解释道:“要是你们肚子痛。不管是小痛还是大痛——” “你的肚子才大痛呢。” “你们笑完了,咱们可以继续开会了吧。要是那些小家伙再爬就会马上从那棵歪树干上摔下来。所以他们最好还是坐在地上听吧。噢,不。什么毛病都有医生来治,就连脑子里的毛病也有。你们当真认为咱们该老是害怕无中生有的东西?生活嘛,” 猪崽子引申着说,“事情总有科学性的一面。再过一两年战争就会结束,人们会到火星上旅行去,再从那儿回来。我知道并没有野兽——没那种带爪子的东西,我的意思是——我知道,也根本没什么可害怕的。” 猪崽子停了一停。 “除非——”不安地拉尔夫动弹了一下。 “除非什么?” “除非咱们害怕的是人。” 一种半是好笑半是讥笑的吵闹声爆发在坐着的孩子们当中。 猪崽子低下头,急忙地继续说道:“还是让那个讲起过野兽的小家伙说说,咱们听听他是怎么说的,或许咱们可以让他看到自己有多蠢。”  小家伙们开始你一言我一句地互相讲起来,随后有一个站了出来。 “你叫什么名字?” “菲尔。” 作为小家伙,菲尔倒是蛮自信的一个,他伸出双手,象拉尔夫那样捧着海螺,四下打量着,在发言前孩子们的注意力都被吸引起来。 “昨晚我做了一个讨厌的梦,梦见跟什么东西扑打起来。在窝棚外面,我独自跟什么东西搏斗着,就是树上那些弯弯曲曲的东西。” 他停顿一下,其他小家伙同情地笑了,他们也感到很可怕。 “当时我很害怕,就吓醒了。我发现在窝棚外面的黑暗中只有我一个人,那种弯弯曲曲的东西已不见了。” 这种栩栩如生的恐怖场面很可信,而又如此清晰可怕,大家都被吓蒙了。 只听见那孩子的声音还在白色的海螺后面叽里咕噜地说着:“我特别害怕,就开始叫唤拉尔夫,后来我就看见一个又大又吓人的东西在林子里晃动。” 他停住了,回忆起这件事虽然使他有点害怕,可又因为自己的故事引起了大家的惊骇而得意。 “那做的是个恶梦,”拉尔夫说,“他是在睡梦中走动。” 与会者以压低的噪音说表示同意。 那个小家伙却执拗地摇晃着脑袋。 “我睡着的时候是跟弯弯曲曲的东西打架,我醒时却什么也不见了,我看见又大又吓人的东西在林子里晃动。” 拉尔夫伸出双手去拿海螺,小家伙坐了下去。 “你们都进入梦乡。那里面没有人,在夜里谁会到林子里去东逛西荡呢?有谁这样做过吗?有谁出去过吗?” 很长时间的停顿。孩子们都在想在夜里有谁会到黑暗里去,都不禁咧嘴而笑。接着西蒙站了起来,拉尔夫吃惊地望着他。 “你!你为什么在黑暗里闲逛?”西蒙拿过海螺,他的手在发抖。 “我要——到一个地方去——一个我知道的地方。” “什么地方?” “一个在丛林中,就我知道的地方。” 他吞吞吐吐地说道。杰克以一种轻蔑的,听上去很带决定性,但却是很滑稽的腔调说,为他们解决了问题。 “他是着急去解手。” 拉尔夫感觉到西蒙受了羞辱,一面接过海螺,一面严厉地盯着西蒙的脸。 “好吧,下不为例。懂吗?千万在夜里不要出去。已经有很多关于野兽的愚蠢的谈论了,尽管小家伙们还没有看到你溜来溜去,象只——” 嘲笑声四起,这当中夹杂着恐惧和责难的味道。拉尔夫已经收回了海螺制止西蒙的辩解,于是他只好回到自己的位子上。 拉尔夫在整个会场静下来的时候,转向猪崽子。 “怎么样,猪崽子?” “还有一个。是他。” 珀西佛尔被小家伙们推到前面来,随后让他独自留在那儿。 珀西佛尔站在中间一块齐膝深的草丛中,看着自己被遮没的双脚,尽量把自己想象成是在一个“帐篷”里。 拉尔夫赶紧将脑中想象着的另一个小男孩也曾象这样站着过的记忆摆脱掉。 拉尔夫早已把那件事深藏在心底,将它驱出脑海,只有象眼前这种实在的形象才又把它带上了心头。 一直没有再点过小家伙们的数,一半是因为没法确保他们全被点着,一半是因为拉尔夫至少知道猪崽子在山顶上提出的那个问题的答案。  有金发的,黑发的,带雀斑的小男孩,全都那么肮脏,但在他们的脸上却有幸没有大斑点。 没有人再看见过有紫红胎记的脸蛋。 然而那一次猪崽子就已经又哄又唬了。 拉尔夫对猪崽子点点头表示他还记得那不宜公开说的事情。 “问下去。再问问他。”猪崽子跪着,海螺在他的手里。“喂。你叫什么名字?” 小男孩把身子一扭躲进了他的“帐篷”。 猪崽子无计可施地转向拉尔夫,后者又高声发问:“你是谁呀?” 这种沉默和拒绝回答问题的气氛简直让孩子们受不了,突然齐声叫起来:“你叫什么名字?你叫什么名字?” “保持安静!”在暮色中拉尔夫凝视着那个小孩。 “现在你告诉我们,你叫什么名字?” “珀西佛尔•威密斯•麦迪逊,哈恩茨,哈考特•圣安东尼教区牧师住所,电话,电话,电——”这个信息使小家伙感到无比悲痛,继而使他流泪了。 他皱起面孔,泪如泉涌,张大的嘴也可以让人看见一个方方的黑洞。 起初他象个悲伤的雕像那样强忍着不哭出声来;可随之他放声痛哭,哭得象海螺声那样又响又长。 “别哭,你呀!别哭了!”珀西佛尔•威密斯•麦迪逊可熬不住了。 已被打开的悲伤的源头,远非权威所能制止,即使威胁着要揍他也不管用。 一场一声紧接一声的嚎啕大哭,就这样开始了。他挺直身子,这哭声似乎使他好象被钉住了一样。 “别哭了!别哭了!”此刻小家伙们也受到了感染。 这哭声所引起的悲伤仿佛人人都有份似的,使他们都悲伤的哭起来。 他们满怀同情地哭开了,有两个哭得几乎跟珀西佛尔一样响。 是莫里斯解救了他们。 他大声喊道:“看着我!”莫里斯假装跌倒在地。他揉揉臀部,又再次翻到在草里,只因他又坐到那根歪树干上。他这小丑角色扮得很糟,但是却吸引了珀西佛尔和其他小家伙,他们抽抽鼻子,笑了。他们很滑稽的笑不一会儿也把大家给逗乐了。 随后杰克没有拿着海螺就讲起话来,因而他的发言违规了;可每个人都忽视了这一点。 “那野兽的事怎么了?” 珀西佛尔身上产生了奇怪的变化。 哈欠连天,脚象踩着海绵,于是杰克一把抓牢他摇晃着问道:“野兽在哪儿住?” 珀西佛尔在杰克紧抓的双手中不住往下沉。 “那倒是头怪聪明的野兽,”猪崽子嘲弄地说道,“它居然能藏在这个岛上。” “杰克哪儿都去过——” “野兽能住在哪儿呢?” “去你的野兽吧!”珀西佛尔嘟囔着什么,大伙儿又哄笑起来。 拉尔夫身子靠向前。“他在说什么呀?” 杰克听着珀西佛尔的回答,马上放开了他。四面都是人,这让珀西佛尔感到宽慰,一被松开,就趴在长长的野草中睡着了。 杰克嗽嗽嗓子,然后不在意地报告道:“他说野兽从海里来。” 笑声平息后。 拉尔夫顾自回过身去,成了一个衬着环礁湖的、隆起的黑色人影。 所有的目光都注视着他,一边看着环礁湖之外漫无边际的大海,一边思考着;在那种不可测量的深蓝的海水之中,似乎蕴藏着无限的可能;他们静静地倾听着风吹树叶的哗哗声,倾听着从礁石处传来的海水击拍岩石的轻微声音。 莫里斯开口了——他说得那么响,把大家吓了一跳。 “爸爸说过,海中所有的动物还没有完全被人们所发现。” 争论此刻又开始了。拉尔夫递过微微发光的海螺,莫里斯顺从地接着。会场再次悄无声息。 “我是说,因为人总会担惊受怕,杰克说你们会害怕的,那说得一点没错。但是他说这个岛上只有野猪,我倒希望他别说错,可是他不知道,我是指他知道得实在不确切。” ——莫里斯喘了口气——“我爸爸说有那些东西,那东西会造出墨黑的水来,你们叫它们什么来着——乌贼——有几百码长,能吃下整条整条的鲸鱼。” 他停下,快活地笑笑。 “我当然不相信有什么野兽。就象猪崽子说的那样,生活是有科学性的,可是咱们不知道,是吗?确切地说是知道得不确实——” 有人叫喊道:“乌贼不会从水中跑出来!” “会!” “不会!”顷刻间,平台上全是手舞足蹈的影子,他们争得不可开交。 对于坐着的拉尔夫来说,这似乎是幼稚的表现。 可怕的东西啦、野兽啦,对于火堆是否最重要大家并没有达成共识:每当试着把事情搞搞清楚,把话题扯开,并会发生争论,提出令人讨厌的新问题。 在幽暗中他看到近旁白闪闪的海螺,就一把从莫里斯那里抢过来并拼命地吹起来。 大家被吓住,马上静下来。 西蒙靠拉尔夫很近,他把手搁到海螺上。 西蒙感到有一种必要的危险使他要说话,但在众目睽睽之下发言对他是个可怕的负担。 “大概,”他踌躇地说,“大概是有一只野兽的。 ”孩子们尖声乱叫,拉尔夫惊讶地站了起来。 “西蒙?你也信这个?” “我不知道,”西蒙说道,掩饰不住心脏剧烈的跳动。 “可是……”一场风暴随之而来。 “坐下去!” “闭嘴!” “拿着海螺!” “见鬼去吧!” “不准再说!”拉尔夫叫喊道:“听他讲!他拿着海螺!” “我是想说……大概野兽不过是咱们自己。” “放屁!”猪崽子吓得口不择言,说出那等粗话。 西蒙接着说道:“咱们可能是一种……”西蒙使劲儿想表达人类基本的病症,却说不明白。他转动脑筋。 “什么东西是最龌龊的?” 好象是作为应答,杰克突然打破了沉默,他极富表情地说了句粗话。 紧张空气的松弛使孩子们格外兴奋。 那些已经爬回到歪树干上的小家伙们重又翻倒下来,可他们已经无所谓了。 猎手们尖声叫喊,开心得要命。 西蒙的努力全面瓦解;这哄笑声无情地鞭打着他,他手足无措地畏缩到自己的位子上。 会场再次安静。有人接着发言:“也许他所说的是一种鬼魂。” 海螺被拉尔夫举向空中,凝望着朦胧的夜色。灰白的海滩此刻是最亮的了。 小家伙们一定在近旁吧?对——这一点可以表示肯定,他们就在草地中间身子紧挨着身子,挤做一团。 棕榈树被一阵疾风吹得哗哗作响,在寂静的黑夜里喧哗声更加引人注意,听上去响得很。 两根灰色的树干互相磨擦,发出令人不安的刺耳的声音,白天却谁也没有注意到。 海螺被猪崽子从拉尔夫手中夺过来,愤怒地说道:“我从来不相信有鬼——从来不信!”杰克带着一股无名火也站起来说道:“谁管你信不信——胖子!” “把海螺给我!”响起了短暂的扭打声,海螺被夺来夺去。 “你还我海螺!”拉尔夫冲到他俩当中,胸上挨了一拳。 海螺被他从别人的手里夺过来,气吁吁地坐下。 “鬼魂谈得太多了。这些该留在白天谈。” 一阵嘘声,接着有人插了一句。 “也许野兽就是——鬼魂。”大家象被风摇撼了一下。 “大家都争着抢话说,”拉尔夫说道,“要是你们不遵守规则,咱们就不会有真正的大会。” 他又停了下来。 准备充分的这次大会完蛋了。 “我还能说些什么呢?这么晚召开这次会是我错了。咱们将对此进行投票表决:我是指鬼魂;大家都累了,因此纷纷返回茅屋去。不许说话——是杰克在说吗?——等一等。我要在这儿说说,因为我不相信有鬼。或者说我认为我不信。可我不喜欢想到这些东西。就是说不喜欢现在这时候、在黑暗里想到鬼。除非咱们要把事情搞明白。” 海螺被他举了一下。 “那好吧。我想要把事情搞明白就是要弄清楚到底是否真的存在鬼——” 他思量了一下,提出了问题。 “谁认为会有鬼?” 长时间的沉默,也没有人做什么明显的动作。 随后拉尔夫看向黑暗处,辨认出自己的手;他断然说道:“我懂了。” 那个世界,那个符合法律和可以理解的世界,悄悄地溜走了。 以前有过要么是这要么是那;可现在——船已经开走了。 海螺被人从拉尔夫手中夺走了,是猪崽子又尖叫起来:“没有鬼,我投票赞成没有鬼!” 在与会者中他转了一圈。 “你们不会忘记!” 他们听到他在跺脚。 “咱们是什么?是人?是牲畜?还是野蛮人?大人会怎么想呢?跑开去——捕野猪——让火给灭了——而现在!” 一团黑影迅速地冲到他跟前。 “你闭嘴,你这个胖懒虫!”短暂的争夺再次发生,微微闪光的海螺上下晃动。 拉尔夫一跃而起。 “杰克!杰克!你没拿着海螺!让他发言。” 在拉尔夫的面前杰克的脸摇晃着。 “你也住口!不管怎样,你算什么东西?干坐在那儿——来摆布别人。你不会打猎,不会唱歌——” “我是领导。大家选我的。” “大家选你的又怎么样?只会发些没有意义的命令——” “把海螺让猪崽子拿着。” “对呀——你总替猪崽子着想——” “杰克!”杰克怀恨地模仿他的声音。 “杰克!杰克!” “规则!”拉尔夫喊道,“你违规了!” “没人在意?”拉尔夫急中生智。“咱们所有的唯一东西就是规则呀!” 但是杰克仍反对他,不住叫喊着。 “让规则见鬼去吧!我们是强有力的——我们会打猎!野兽来了,我们就把它打倒!我们要包围上去揍它,反复的揍——” 他发疯地叫着,跃下灰白的沙滩。 一片喧哗声、骚动声、争夺声、尖叫声和哄笑声立刻充满了平台。 与会者四下散开,他们乱纷纷地从棕榈树处跑向水边,沿着海滩跑向远处,消失在朦胧的夜色中。拉尔夫觉得海螺碰到自己脸上,就把它从猪崽子手里拿过来。 “大人们会想些什么呢?”猪崽子又喊道。“瞧他们那个模样!” 模仿打猎的声音从海滩上传来了,歇斯底里的笑声和真正感到恐怖的尖叫声。 “拉尔夫,吹海螺。”猪崽子靠得很近,一块镜片的闪光被拉尔夫看得一清二楚。 “有火在那儿,他们看不见吗?” “这时你得来硬的,叫他们执行你的命令。”拉尔夫以一种背诵定理的口吻小心地回答道:“假如我吹了海螺他们不回来,那咱们就自作自受了。咱们维持不了火堆。咱们就会象牲畜一样,再也不会得救。” “你不吹,咱们也会很快地成为牲畜。我虽然看不见他们在做什么,但我听得见。” 在沙滩上,四散的人影聚拢来,变成了一团旋转着的浓黑的影子。 他们在和唱着什么,已经唱够了的小家伙们号叫着蹒跚走开。海螺被拉尔夫举到唇边,又放了下来。 “猪崽子,伤脑筋的是:有没有鬼呢?有没有野兽呢?” “当然没有喽。” “为什么没呢?” “因为事情会讲不通。房子啦、马路啦、电视啦——那些东西起不到什么作用。” 边跳边唱的孩子们渐渐精疲力尽,他们唱不出词儿,只发出有节奏的声音。 “假如说它们讲不通?在这儿,在这个岛上是讲不通的?说不定它们正观察着咱们,等着机会呢?” 拉尔夫猛缩了一下,向猪崽子靠近一些,他们两人撞在一起,以致都被对方吓了一跳。 “不要再说了!你觉得麻烦的事情还不够多吗!拉尔夫,我要受不住了。要是有鬼的话——” “我该放弃当头头。听他们的算了。” “哦,天哪!别,可别!”拉尔夫的臂膀被猪崽子紧紧抓住。 “如果杰克当上头头,他只会打猎,不会管火。咱们会在这儿待到死。” 猪崽子声音高得近乎成了尖叫。 “是谁坐在那儿?” “我,西蒙。” “咱们倒是好极了,”拉尔夫说道。 “三只瞎了眼的耗子。我算认输了。” “假如你认输,”猪崽子惊慌地低声问,“那我会怎么样呢?” “不会怎么样的。” “他恨我。不知道是什么原因。要是他能随心所欲——你没事,他尊敬你。此外——你会揍他。” “你刚才也跟他干了一个漂亮仗。” “把海螺给我,”猪崽子直率地说。“我有权发言。” 在黑暗中西蒙动弹了一下。 “把头头当下去。” “你闭嘴,小西蒙!为什么你就不能说没野兽呢?” “我怕他,”猪崽子说,“那就是原因,我了解他。要是你怕一个人,你会恨他,可是你又情不自禁想到他。你可以骗自己,说他挺不错的,可当你又见着他,就会象得气喘病似的喘不过气来。我告诉你,他也恨你,拉尔夫——” “我?为什么恨我?” “我不知道。在火那件事上你让他栽跟头了;还有你是头头,他不是。” “可他是,他是,杰克•梅瑞狄!” “我老躺在床上养病,因此我有时间动脑筋。我了解人们,了解我自己,也了解他。他不能伤害你,可是如果你靠边,也许我就是下一个被伤害的人。” “猪崽子说得没错,拉尔夫。你和杰克都对。把头头当下去。” “咱们都在放任自流,事情会越来越糟。家里总有个大人。请问,先生;请问,小姐;然后你要做回答。我多么希望能这样!” “在这儿有我姨妈就好了。” “但愿我的父亲……哦,那起什么作用?” “让火堆燃着。”跳舞完毕,猎手们都回到茅屋里去了。 “大人懂事,”猪崽子说。“他们不怕黑暗。他们聚会、喝茶、讨论。然后一切都会好的——” “他们不可能在岛上到处点火。或者失掉——” “他们会造一条船——”在黑暗之中有三个男孩站着,起劲地、东拉西扯地谈论着了不起的成人生活。 “他们不会吵架——” “不会砸碎我的眼镜——” “也不会去讲野兽什么的——” “要是他们能带个消息给我们就好了。”拉尔夫绝望地叫喊道。 “要是他们能给我们送一些大人的东西……一个信号或什么东西那该多好。”一阵微弱的呜咽声从黑暗中传来,吓得他们毛骨悚然,赶快互相抓住。 接着越来越响,呜咽声显得那么遥远而神秘,又转成一种急促而模糊的声音。哈考特•圣安东尼教区牧师住所的珀西佛尔•威密斯•麦迪逊正在这样的环境中打发时光:他躺在长长的野草里,口中念念有词,但是自己的地址被他当作咒语来,念也帮不了他的忙。 Chapter 6 Beast from Air   There was no light left save that of the stars. When they had understood what made this ghostly noise and Percival was quiet again, Ralph and Simon picked him up unhandily and carried him to a shelter. Piggy hung about near for all his brave words, and the three bigger boys went together to the next shelter. They lay restlessly and noisily among the dry leaves, watching the patch of stars that was the opening toward the lagoon. Sometimes a littlun cried out from the other shelters and once a bigun spoke in the dark. Then they too fell asleep.   A sliver of moon rose over the horizon, hardly large enough to make a path of light even when it sat right down on the water; but there were other lights in the sky, that moved fast, winked, or went out, though not even a faint popping came down from the battle fought at ten miles' height. But a sign came down from the world of grownups, though at the time there was no child awake to read it. There was a sudden bright explosion and corkscrew trail across the sky; then darkness again and stars. There was a speck above the island, a figure dropping swiftly beneath a parachute, a figure that hung with dangling limbs. The changing winds of various altitudes took the figure where they would. Then, three miles up, the wind steadied and bore it in a descending curve round the sky and swept it in a great slant across the reef and the lagoon toward the mountain. The figure fell and crumpled among the blue flowers of the mountain-side, but now there was a gentle breeze at this height too and the parachute flopped and banged and pulled. So the figure, with feet that dragged behind it, slid up the mountain. Yard by yard, puff by puff, the breeze hauled the figure through the blue flowers, over the boulders and red stones, till it lay huddled among the shattered rocks of the mountain-top. Here the breeze was fitful and allowed the strings of the parachute to tangle and festoon; and the figure sat, its helmeted head between its knees, held by a complication of lines. When the breeze blew, the lines would strain taut and some accident of this pull lifted the head and chest upright so that the figure seemed to peer across the brow of the mountain. Then, each time the wind dropped, the lines would slacken and the figure bow forward again, sinking its head between its knees. So as the stars moved across the sky, the figure sat on the mountain-top and bowed and sank and bowed again.   In the darkness of early morning there were noises by a rock a little way down the side of the mountain. Two boys rolled out a pile of brushwood and dead leaves, two dim shadows talking sleepily to each other. They were the twins, on duty at the fire. In theory one should have been asleep and one on watch. But they could never manage to do things sensibly if that meant acting independently, and since staying awake all night was impossible, they had both gone to sleep. Now they approached the darker smudge that had been the signal fire, yawning, rubbing their eyes, treading with practiced feet. When they reached it they stopped yawning, and one ran quickly back for brushwood and leaves.   The other knelt down.   "I believe it's out."   He fiddled with the sticks that were pushed into his hands.   "No."   He lay down and put his lips close to the smudge and blew soffly. His face appeared, lit redly. He stopped blowing for a moment.   "Sam--give us--"   "--tinder wood."   Eric bent down and blew softly again till the patch was bright. Sam poked the piece of tinder wood into the hot spot, then a branch. The glow increased and the branch took fire. Sam piled on more branches.   "Don't burn the lot," said Eric, "you're putting on too much."   "Let's warm up."   "We'll only have to fetch more wood."   "I'm cold."   "So'm I."   "Besides, it's--"   "--dark. All right, then."   Eric squatted back and watched Sam make up the fire. He built a little tent of dead wood and the fire was safely alight.   "That was near."   "He'd have been--"   "Waxy."   "Huh."   For a few moments the twins watched the fire in silence. Then Eric sniggered.   "Wasn't he waxy?"   "About the--"   "Fire and the pig."   "Lucky he went for Jack, 'stead of us."   "Huh. Remember old Waxy at school?"   "'Boy--you-are-driving-me-slowly-insane!'"   The twins shared their identical laughter, then remembered the darkness and other things and glanced round uneasily. The flames, busy about the tent, drew their eyes back again. Eric watched the scurrying woodlice that were so frantically unable to avoid the flames, and thought of the first fire--just down there, on the steeper side of the mountain, where now was complete darkness. He did not like to remember it, and looked away at the mountain-top.   Warmth radiated now, and beat pleasantly on them. Sam amused himself by fitting branches into the fire as closely as possible. Eric spread out his hands, searching for the distance at which the heat was just bearable. Idly looking beyond the fire, he resettled the scattered rocks from their flat shadows into daylight contours. Just there was the big rock, and the three stones there, that split rock, and there beyond was a gap--just there--   "Sam."   "Huh?"   "Nothing."   The flames were mastering the branches, the bark was curling and falling away, the wood exploding. The   tent fell inwards and flung a wide circle of light over the mountain-top.   "Sam--"   "Huh?"   "Sam! Sam!"   Sam looked at Eric irritably. The intensity of Eric's gaze made the direction in which he looked terrible, for Sam had his back to it. He scrambled round the fire, squatted by Eric, and looked to see. They became motionless, gripped in each other's arms, four unwinking eyes aimed and two mouths open.   Far beneath them, the trees of the forest sighed, then roared. The hair on their foreheads fluttered and flames blew out sideways from the fire. Fifteen yards away from them came the plopping noise of fabric blown open.   Neither of the boys screamed but the grip of their arms tightened and their mouths grew peaked. For perhaps ten seconds they crouched like that while the flailing fire sent smoke and sparks and waves of inconstant light over the top of the mountain.   Then as though they had but one terrified mind between them they scrambled away over the rocks and fled.      Ralph was dreaming. He had fallen asleep after what seemed hours of tossing and turning noisily among the dry leaves. Even the sounds of nightmare from the other shelters no longer reached him, for he was back to where he came from, feeding the ponies with sugar over the garden wall. Then someone was shaking his arm, telling him that it was time for tea.   "Ralph! Wake up!"   The leaves were roaring like the sea.   "Ralph, wake up!"   "What's the matter?"   "We saw--"   "--the beast--"   "--plain!"   "Who are you? The twins?"   "We saw the beast--"   "Quiet. Piggy!"   The leaves were roaring still. Piggy bumped into him and a twin grabbed him as he made for the oblong of paling stars.   "You can't go out--it's horrible!"   "Piggy--where are the spears?"   "I can hear the--"   "Quiet then. Lie still."   They lay there listening, at first with doubt but then with terror to the description the twins breathed at them between bouts of extreme silence. Soon the darkness was full of claws, full of the awful unknown and menace. An interminable dawn faded the stars out, and at last light, sad and grey, filtered into the shelter. They began to stir though still the world outside the shelter was impossibly dangerous. The maze of the darkness sorted into near and far, and at the high point of the sky the cloudlets were warmed with color. A single sea bird flapped upwards with a hoarse cry that was echoed presently, and something squawked in the forest. Now streaks of cloud near the horizon began to glow rosily, and the feathery tops of the palms were green.   Ralph knelt in the entrance to the shelter and peered cautiously round him.   "Sam 'n Eric. Call them to an assembly. Quietly. Go on."   The twins, holding tremulously to each other, dared the few yards to the next shelter and spread the dreadful news. Ralph stood up and walked for the sake of dignity, though with his back pricking, to the platform. Piggy and Simon followed him and the other boys came sneaking after.   Ralph took the conch from where it lay on the polished seat and held it to his lips; but then he hesitated and did not blow. He held the shell up instead and showed it to them and they understood.   The rays of the sun that were fanning upwards from below the horizon swung downwards to eye-level. Ralph looked for a moment at the growing slice of gold that lit them from the right hand and seemed to make speech possible. The circle of boys before him bristled with hunting spears.   He handed the conch to Eric, the nearest of the twins.   "We've seen the beast with our own eyes. No--we weren't asleep--"   Sam took up the story. By custom now one conch did for both twins, for their substantial unity was recognized.   "It was furry. There was something moving behind its head--wings. The beast moved too--"   "That was awful. It kind of sat up--"   "The fire was bright--"   "We'd just made it up--"   "--more sticks on--"   "There were eyes--"   "Teeth--"   "Claws--"   "We ran as fast as we could--"   "Bashed into things--"   "The beast followed us--"   "I saw it slinking behind the trees--"   "Nearly touched me--"   Ralph pointed fearfully at Eric's face, which was striped with scars where the bushes had torn him.   "How did you do that?"   Eric felt his face.   "I'm all rough. Am I bleeding?"   The circle of boys shrank away in horror. Johnny, yawning still, burst into noisy tears and was slapped by Bill till he choked on them. The bright morning was full of threats and the circle began to change. It faced out, rather than in, and the spears of sharpened wood were like a fence. Jack called them back to the center.   "This'll be a real hunt! Who'll come?"   Ralph moved impatiently.   "These spears are made of wood. Don't be silly."   Jack sneered at him.   "Frightened?"   "'Course I'm frightened. Who wouldn't be?"   He turned to the twins, yearning but hopeless.   "I suppose you aren't pulling our legs?"   The reply was too emphatic for anyone to doubt them.   Piggy took the conch.   "Couldn't we--kind of--stay here? Maybe the beast won't come near us."   But for the sense of something watching them, Ralph would have shouted at him.   "Stay here? And be cramped into this bit of the island, always on the lookout? How should we get our food? And what about the fire?"   "Let's be moving," said Jack relentlessly, "we're wasting time."   "No we're not. What about the littluns?"   "Sucks to the littluns!"   "Someone's got to look after them."   "Nobody has so far."   "There was no need! Now there is. Piggy'll look after them."   "That's right. Keep Piggy out of danger."   "Have some sense. What can Piggy do with only one eye?"   The rest of the boys were looking from Jack to Ralph, curiously.   "And another thing. You can't have an ordinary hunt because the beast doesn't leave tracks. If it did you'd have seen them. For all we know, the beast may swing through the trees like what's its name."   They nodded.   "So we've got to think."   Piggy took off his damaged glasses and cleaned the remaining lens.   "How about us, Ralph?"   "You haven't got the conch. Here."   "I mean--how about us? Suppose the beast comes when you're all away. I can't see proper, and if I get scared--"   Jack broke in, contemptuously.   "You're always scared."   "I got the conch--"   "Conch! Conch!" shouted Jack. "We don't need the conch any more. We know who ought to say things. What good did Simon do speaking, or Bill, or Walter? It's time some people knew they've got to keep quiet and leave deciding things to the rest of us."   Ralph could no longer ignore his speech. The blood was hot in his cheeks.   "You haven't got the conch," he said. "Sit down."   Jack's face went so white that the freckles showed as clear, brown flecks. He licked his lips and remained standing.   "This is a hunter's job."   The rest of the boys watched intently. Piggy, finding himself uncomfortably embroiled, slid the conch to Ralph's knees and sat down. The silence grew oppressive and Piggy held his breath.   "This is more than a hunter's job," said Ralph at last, "because you can't track the beast. And don't you want to be rescued?"   He turned to the assembly.   "Don't you all want to be rescued?"   He looked back at Jack.   "I said before, the fire is the main thing. Now the fire must be out--"   The old exasperation saved him and gave him the energy to attack.   "Hasn't anyone got any sense? We've got to relight that fire. You never thought of that, Jack, did you? Or don't any of you want to be rescued?"   Yes, they wanted to be rescued, there was no doubt about that; and with a violent swing to Ralph's side, the crisis passed. Piggy let out his breath with a gasp, reached for it again and failed. He lay against a log, his mouth gaping, blue shadows creeping round his lips. Nobody minded him.   "Now think, Jack. Is there anywhere on the island you haven't been?"   Unwillingly Jack answered.   "There's only--but of course! You remember? The tail-end part, where the rocks are all piled up. I've been near there. The rock makes a sort of bridge. There's only one way up."   "And the thing might live there."   All the assembly talked at once.   "Quite! All right. That's where we'll look. If the beast isn't there we'll go up the mountain and look; and light the fire."   "Let's go."   "We'll eat first. Then go." Ralph paused. "We'd better take spears."   After they had eaten, Ralph and the biguns set out along the beach. They left Piggy propped up on the platform. This day promised, like the others, to be a sunbath under a blue dome. The beach stretched away before them in a gentle curve till perspective drew it into one with the forest; for the day was not advanced enough to be obscured by the shifting veils of mirage. Under Ralph's direction, they picked up a careful way along the palm terrace, rather than dare the hot sand down by the water. He let Jack lead the way; and Jack trod with theatrical caution though they could have seen an enemy twenty yards away. Ralph walked in the rear, thankful to have escaped responsibility for a time.   Simon, walking in front of Ralph, felt a flicker of incredulity--a beast with claws that scratched, that sat on a mountain-top, that left no tracks and yet was not fast enough to catch Samneric. However Simon thought of the beast, there rose before his inward sight the picture of a human at once heroic and sick.   He sighed. Other people could stand up and speak to an assembly, apparently, without that dreadful feeling of the pressure of personality; could say what they would as though they were speaking to only one person. He stepped aside and looked back. Ralph was coming along, holding his spear over his shoulder. Diffidently, Simon allowed his pace to slacken until he was walking side by side with Ralph and looking up at him through the coarse black hair that now fell to his eyes. Ralph glanced sideways, smiled constrainedly as though he had forgotten that Simon had made a fool of himself, then looked away again at nothing. For a moment or two Simon was happy to be accepted and then he ceased to think about himself. When he bashed into a tree Ralph looked sideways impatiently and Robert sniggered. Simon reeled and a white spot on his forehead turned red and trickled. Ralph dismissed Simon and returned to his personal hell. They would reach the castle some time; and the chief would have to go forward.   Jack came trotting back. "We're in sight now."   "All right. We'll get as close as we can."   He followed Jack toward the castle where the ground rose slightly. On their left was an impenetrable tangle of creepers and trees.   "Why couldn't there be something in that?"   "Because you can see. Nothing goes in or out."   "What about the castle then?"   "Look."   Ralph parted the screen of grass and looked out. There were only a few more yards of stony ground and then the two sides of the island came almost together so that one expected a peak of headland. But instead of this a narrow ledge of rock, a few yards wide and perhaps fifteen long, continued the island out into the sea. There lay another of those pieces of pink squareness that underlay the structure of the island. This side of the castle, perhaps a hundred feet high, was the pink bastion they had seen from the mountain-top. The rock of the cliff was split and the top littered with great lumps that seemed to totter.   Behind Ralph the tall grass had filled with silent hunters. Ralph looked at Jack.   "You're a hunter."   Jack went red.   "I know. All right."   Something deep in Ralph spoke for him.   "I'm chief. I'll go. Don't argue."   He turned to the others.   "You. Hide here. Wait for me."   He found his voice tended either to disappear or to come out too loud. He looked at Jack.   "Do you--think?"   Jack muttered.   "I've been all over. It must be here."   "I see."   Simon mumbled confusedly: "I don't believe in the beast."   Ralph answered him politely, as if agreeing about the weather.   "No. I suppose not."   His mouth was tight and pale. He put back his hair very slowly.   "Well. So long."   He forced his feet to move until they had carried him out on to the neck of land.   He was surrounded on all sides by chasms of empty air. There was nowhere to hide, even if one did not have to go on. He paused on the narrow neck and looked down. Soon, in a matter of centuries, the sea would make an island of the castle. On the right hand was the lagoon, troubled by the open sea; and on the left-- Ralph shuddered. The lagoon had protected them from the Pacific: and for some reason only Jack had gone right down to the water on the other side. Now he saw the landsman's view of the swell and it seemed like the breathing of some stupendous creature. Slowly the waters sank among the rocks, revealing pink tables of granite, strange growths of coral, polyp, and weed. Down, down, the waters went, whispering like the wind among the heads of the forest. There was one flat rock there, spread like a table, and the waters sucking down on the four weedy sides made them seem like cliffs. Then the sleeping leviathan breathed out, the waters rose, the weed streamed, and the water boiled over the table rock with a roar. There was no sense of the passage of waves; only this minute-long fall and rise and fall.   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. You've been."   "We could go by the shore. There's fruit."   Bill came up to Ralph.   "Why can't we stay here for a bit?"   "That's right.''   "Let's have a fort."   "There's no food here," said Ralph, "and no shelter. Not much fresh water."   "This would make a wizard fort."   "We can roll rocks--"   "Right onto the bridge--"   "I say we'll go on!" shouted Ralph furiously. "We've got to make certain. We'll go now."   "Let's stay here--"   "Back to the shelter--"   "I'm tired--"   "No!"   Ralph struck the skin off his knuckles. They did not seem to hurt.   "I'm chief. We've got to make certain. Can't you see the mountain? There's no signal showing. There may be a ship out there. Are you all off your rockers?"   Mutinously, the boys fell silent or muttering.   Jack led the way down the rock and across the bridge. 第六章 空中来的怪兽 除了星光,其他什么光也没有。 他们搞清了这鬼叫似的声音是哪里来的,而珀西佛尔又安静下来,他被笨手笨脚的拉尔夫和西蒙抬到一个窝棚里。 因为猪崽子说过大话,也就在离他们不远的地方跟着。 然后三个大男孩一起走到邻近的一个窝棚。 他们烦躁不安地躺在枯叶堆中,发出嘈杂的响声,仰望着点点的群星,星光正投向环礁湖。 有时一个小家伙的哭叫声从别的窝棚里传出,在黑暗中偶尔又有一个大家伙说着梦话。 随后他们三个也进入了梦乡。 在海平线上一弯新月升起,月亮非常小,就连直投到水面上时也形不成一道亮光,然而却有着别的光在夜空中,它们一闪一闪倏忽而过,或者熄灭掉,十英里高空的战斗甚至连一下轻微的爆裂声都没有传来。 但从成人世界有一个信号飘扬而下,当时孩子们都睡着了,谁也没有注意到。 突然一条明亮的螺旋状的尾巴,随着爆炸声斜越夜空,然后又是一片黑暗,群星闪闪。 海岛上空有个斑点,一个人影在一顶降落伞下垂荡着摇晃的四肢,正在迅速下降。不同高度的风向变幻莫测,风把人影飘来荡去。 接着,风向固定在三英里的高处,风带着人影以一条圆弧形的下降曲线划破夜空,斜斜地越过礁石和环礁湖,朝山飞去。 人影掉在山侧的蓝野花丛当中,缩成一团,可此刻在这个高度也有一股徐徐的微风,降落伞啪啪翻动,砰然着地,拖拉起来。 之后人影双脚拖在身后,向山上滑去。 轻风拖着人影,一码一码,一扑一扑地穿越蓝色的野花丛,翻过巨砾和红石,最后在山顶的乱石碎砾中挤做一团。 这儿微风断断续续,降落伞的绳索东拉西拽地往下挂着,或者缠绕起来。 人影坐着,在双膝之间,戴盔的脑袋耷拉着,搁在错综交叉的绳索上面。 微风吹过,伞绳会绷直,这种牵拉偶尔会使人影的脑袋抬起,胸膛挺直,于是他的目光似乎越过山顶,向远方凝望着。 然后,每当风势减弱,伞绳便会松弛下去,人影又向前弯曲着,脑袋被深埋在双膝之间。 因此当群星移过夜空时,看得出山顶上坐着的人影,不时变换着姿势。 在清晨的黑暗中,喧闹声在山侧下面一条小路的岩石旁响起了。 从一堆灌木和枯叶中两个男孩翻滚出来,两个模糊的影子似醒未醒地互扯着。 这俩是双胞胎,他们在值班管火。 论理应该是一个睡觉,另一个守着。 但是从来他们俩独立行动的时候都做不成一件象样的事,因而整夜呆着不睡是做不到的,两人就都去睡觉了。 这会儿他们走近曾是信号火的一堆黑漆漆的余烬,边打哈欠边揉眼睛,熟门熟路地走着。 可一到火堆边他们就将哈欠止住了,其中一个匆匆奔回去拿木柴和树叶。 另一个跪了下去。 “我看火已经灭了。”他拿起一根木棒塞到他手中拨弄起来。 “没灭。”他躺下去,把嘴贴近黑漆漆的余烬,缓缓地吹着。 他的脸慢慢抬起,被复然的火焰照得通红。吹了一会儿,他停了下来。 “萨姆——给我们——” “——焦炭。”埃里克弯下腰又轻轻地吹着,直到余烬被吹旺了。 一块焦炭被萨姆放到开始发红的地方,接着加上一根枝条。枝条燃着了,火更旺了。萨姆堆上了更多的枝条。 “别烧得太多,”埃里克说道,“你放得太多了。” “咱们来暖暖身子吧。” “那又得去搬柴火了。” “我冷。” “我也冷。” “还有,天——” “——天太黑了。那好吧。”埃里克往后蹲坐着,看着萨姆生火。 焦木被萨姆搭成了一个小小的遮风的棚,火稳稳地点着了。 “可真差不离。” “他会要——”“光火的。” “嘿。”双胞胎安静地注视着火堆。 随后埃里克格格地闷笑起来。 “他不是光火了吗?” “在谈到——” “火堆和野猪的时候。” “幸亏他不是冲着咱们俩,而是冲着杰克。” “嘿,学校里总发脾气的那个老先生你还记得吗?” “孩子——你—可真要—把我—给慢慢地—气疯了!”双胞胎两人会心地哈哈大笑,接着在他们的脑海中又忆起了黑暗和别的一些东西,不安地东瞧西看起来。  在架空的木柴旁,火焰燃得正旺,他们的眼光又被这火焰给吸引了回来。 埃里克注视着:树虱在疯狂地乱跑,火焰还是把他们吞噬了,他想起了第一次所生的火——就在那下面,在山更陡峭的一侧,那儿此刻是漆黑一片。 他并不愿意记起这件事,侧脸看起山顶来了。 这会儿热气四射,照到了他们身上,使他们感到很愉快。 枝条被萨姆尽可能近地塞进火里,闹着玩儿。 埃里克伸出双手,试试看放在多远可以接受火堆辐射出来的热量。 他无聊地看着火堆的另一边,从乱石碎砾扁平的阴影中重新想象出它们白天的轮廓。 就在那儿有块大岩石,有三块石头,裂开的岩石,从那儿再过去,有一道山罅——就在那儿—— “萨姆。” “口母?” “没什么。” 枝条燃起了熊熊的火焰。把树皮烧得蜷曲起来,随火而化,同时木头发出了噼啪的爆裂声。 遮风的小棚朝内坍塌下去,把山顶上好大一圈照得通亮。 “萨姆——” “口母?” “萨姆!萨姆!”萨姆焦躁地看看埃里克。 埃里克流露出紧张的神情,显示他所看的方向凶险可怕。 萨姆起初背对着那个方向,现在忽匆匆地兜过火堆,蹲坐盯着看起来。他们呆呆地,互相紧揪着手臂,两双眼睛紧盯着,两张嘴巴难以合拢。 无数的林木叹息着,在他们下面远远的地方,随之怒号起来。头发在他们的额前飘动,火焰从火堆旁逸出来。这噗噗声响是在离他们十五码的地方被风吹来的布的声音。 两个孩子都没尖声呼叫,只是用手更紧地抓住对方的臂膀,嘴巴突出。 这样他们蹲伏了约十秒钟时间,与此同时,噼啪作响的火堆冒出了浓烟和火星,在山顶上火光摇曳不停。 接着,就好象他们两人同时拥有一颗心,而这颗心被吓坏了,双胞胎踉踉跄跄地爬过山岩,逃之夭夭。拉尔夫正做着美梦。 嘈杂的辗转反侧经过了几小时,他终于在枯叶堆中进入了梦乡。 连别的窝棚里的孩子在梦魇中发出的惊叫也没有把他惊动,因为在梦中他已回到了自己的老家,正隔着花园的围墙给小马喂糖吃。 随之有人以摇手臂的方式告诉他该吃茶点了。 “拉尔夫!醒醒!”树叶哗哗作响,象大海那样怒号。 “拉尔夫,醒醒!” “怎么啦?” “我们看见—” “——野兽—” “——一清二楚!” “你们是谁?双胞胎吗?” “我们看见野兽了——” “闭嘴。猪崽子!”树叶仍在怒号。 拉尔夫向椭圆形的、暗淡的星群奔去,一头撞到猪崽子身上,双胞胎中的一个忙拽住他。 “你可别出去——太可怕了!” “猪崽子——长矛在哪儿?” “我听得见——” “快静下来。躺着。”他们起初有点怀疑地在那里倾听,然而在一阵阵死寂之中听着双胞胎低声细语的描述,却也畏惧起来。 顷刻之间,黑暗中似乎满是爪子,满是可怕的无名之兽和威胁之声。 漫无止境的拂晓缓缓地隐去了群星,最后,灰蒙蒙的光线终于射进了窝棚。 他们开始动弹身子,尽管窝棚外面的世界仍然危险得令人毛骨悚然。 黑暗中迷乱的景象越来越清晰,天空高处小片的云彩涂上了一层暖色。 一只孤独的海鸟扑棱棱地拍翅飞向云天,嘶哑地鸣叫一声,引起几下回声。 有什么东西在森林中粗厉地嘎然长鸣。靠近海平线的一片片云彩此刻闪耀出玫瑰红色,而棕榈树羽毛似的树冠也显示出清翠碧绿。 拉尔夫跪在窝棚的进口处,小心翼翼地窥测着四周的动静。 “萨姆和埃里克。叫他们来碰碰头。悄悄地去吧。”双胞胎恐惧地互相搀着,壮着胆子走了几码到邻近的一个窝棚里去传播那可怖的消息。  拉尔夫为了自己的尊严站了起来,尽管心里忐忑不安,还是硬撑着走向平台。猪崽子和西蒙跟着他,其他孩子也胆怯地跟在后面。 海螺在光溜溜的位子上放着,海螺被拉尔夫放到嘴边;可接着他犹豫片刻,并没有吹,只举起贝壳向大家示意一下,他们都懂了。 太阳的光线象把扇子似的从海平线下面往上展开,又向下晃到与眼睛同一高度。 拉尔夫瞥一下从右面照亮他们的、正在渐渐扩大的一片金色的闪光,似乎要找一个恰当的地方来发言。 在他前面围成圈的孩子们手中都竖拿着一根根长矛。 他把海螺递给最靠近他的埃里克——双胞胎中的一个。 “我们俩亲眼看到了野兽。不——我们当时没睡着——”萨姆接过故事讲下去。 现在双胞胎两个共用一个海螺已成了习惯,因为大家已经公认他们俩实在是密不可分的。 “毛茸茸的野兽。头的后面有东西飘来飘去——象是翅膀。它动得太——” “真可怕。它那么直挺挺地坐起来——” “火光很亮——” “我们俩刚生好火——” “——还在往上多加木柴——” “有眼睛——” “牙齿——” “爪子——” “我们俩没命地奔逃——” “猛撞到什么东西上——” “野兽跟着我们俩——” “我看到它神神秘秘地躲在树木后面——” “差一点碰到我——”拉尔夫满怀恐惧指指埃里克的脸,上面有一些伤痕,是被矮灌木丛划的。 “你那是怎么搞的?” 埃里克摸摸自己的脸。“我脸上都弄破了。在流血吗?” 围成圈的孩子们害怕地退缩下去。 约翰尼仍打着哈欠,不知怎的突然哭出来,比尔给了他一个嘴巴子,才强忍住眼泪。 明亮的早晨蕴含着种种威胁,孩子们的圈儿开始有了变化。 他们的脸朝外不朝里,用木头削尖制成的长矛形成一道篱笆。 杰克叫他们向中心靠拢。“这才是真正的打猎呢!谁敢去?” 拉尔夫不情愿地抖动了一下。“长矛都是由木头做成的。别傻了。” 杰克嘲笑地对他说。“害怕了?” “当然怕了。谁会不怕呢?” 杰克向双胞胎看去,感到失望的是他们没有及时给出回答。 “我想你们没有和我们在开玩笑吧?”他们回答得非常肯定,不容置疑。 海螺被猪崽子拿过来。“咱们能不能——还是——待在这儿?也许野兽不会到咱们这儿来。” 要不是感到有什么东西好象正瞧着他们,拉尔夫早就对猪崽子大声吆喝起来。“呆在这儿?圈这么一小块岛上,总得提防着?咱们怎么弄到吃的呢?火堆又怎么办呢?” “让我们行动吧,”杰克焦躁地说,“我们在耽误时间。” “不,我们没有。小家伙们怎么办呢?” “别管那些小家伙!” “他们需要有人照顾。” “过去谁也不需要照顾。” “过去没这个必要!可现在有了。让猪崽子来看着他们。” “好呀。只要不让猪崽子冒险。” “动动脑筋吧。猪崽子一只眼能干什么?” 其余的孩子奇怪地看看杰克,又看看拉尔夫。 “还有一件事。你们这次可不象以往的打猎,因为野兽没留下痕迹。如果它留下了,你们倒可以看得见。大家都清楚,野兽也许会象刚才所说的一样,可能象荡秋千似的从一棵树摆到另一棵树。” 大家点头表示同意。 “所以咱们得想一想。”猪崽子把摔坏的眼镜摘下来,擦擦残余的眼镜片。“拉尔夫,我们怎么办呢?” “你还没有拿海螺。它在这儿。” “我是说——我们怎么办呢?假如你们都走开,而野兽倒来了。我又看不清楚,要是我被吓坏了——” 杰克轻蔑地插了一句。“你是胆小鬼。” “我拿着海螺——” “海螺!海螺!”杰克叫道,“海螺对我们已经没有什么作用了。我们知道该由谁发言。西蒙说话有什么用?比尔、沃尔特说话顶个屁?是时候了,该让有些人知道他们得闭上嘴,让我们剩下的来下决定——” 拉尔夫忍不住无视他的发言。 热血涌上了双颊。“你没拿到海螺。”他说。“坐下。” 杰克的面孔变得如此苍白,褐色的污点在脸上显得是那样的清楚。 他舔舔嘴唇,仍然站着。“这是猎手的活儿。” 其余的孩子们眼睛一眨不眨地看着。猪崽子感到自己被卷入了纷争的漩涡,心里好难受,海螺被他悄悄地放回到拉尔夫的膝盖上,坐了下去。 气氛静得逼人,猪崽子屏气静息。 “这光是猎手的活,”拉尔夫最后说,“因为你无法追踪野兽。你难道不要得救了吗?” 他转向全体与会者。“你们难道全都不想得救了吗?” 他转头看了杰克一眼。“我以前讲过,火堆很关键。眼下火堆肯定灭掉了——”先前的愤怒又给了他以还击的力量。“你们是不是都没有头脑了?咱们一定要再把火生起来。杰克,你一直没有想到过火堆,不是吗?要不然你们全都不想得救了?” 不,他们都要得救,对此不容置疑;大家的倾向一顺间都偏向拉尔夫一边,危机过去了。 猪崽子喘了口粗气,想缓一缓,可没做到。 他在一根圆木旁倚躺着,张着大嘴巴,嘴唇上布满了一圈青紫的斑印。没人去注意他。 “想想吧,杰克。在岛上你有什么地方还没去过?” 杰克不情愿地答道:“只有——当然罗!你记得吗?岛的末端,山岩都堆积起来堆得象桥一样的那个地方。我到过那儿附近。上去只有一条路。” “那东西可能住在那儿。”大伙儿又热闹地说开了。 “静一静!好。那就是咱们要去看的地方。要是野兽不在那儿,咱们就爬上山去看看,再点着火堆。” “咱们走吧。” “咱们先吃了再去。”拉尔夫停了一下。“最好带着长矛。” 拉尔夫和大家伙们吃完以后就沿着海滩出发了。 猪崽子被他们留在平台上支撑局面。  这一天与其他日子无异,天气可望晴朗,在蔚蓝色的苍穹之下,大地上沐浴着万道霞光。 展现在他们面前的海滩微呈弧形,它一直伸向远方,最终弯进了一片森林,还不到白天的那个时候:各种景象会被蜃景变幻的帷幕搞的模糊不清。 他们在拉尔夫的指挥下,谨慎地选了一条沿着棕榈斜坡的小路,而不敢沿着海边发烫的沙滩行走。 拉尔夫让杰克带着路,杰克佯装小心地走着,尽管要是有敌人的话,在二十码开外他们一眼就能看见。 拉尔夫殿后,很高兴暂时逃脱了责任。 拉尔夫走在西蒙的后面,觉得有点儿怀疑——一个会用爪子抓人的野兽,坐在山顶上,没留下足迹,跑得有些慢,捉不住萨姆纳里克。 不管西蒙怎么幻想那头野兽,在他内心里浮现的却总是这样一幅图画:一个既有英雄气概又是满面病容的人。 他叹息着。 别人能站起来对着全体与会者发言,他们显然没那种可怕的个性上的自卑感,就好象只是对一个人说话那样。 西蒙朝旁边跨出一步,回首张望了一下。 拉尔夫正跟上来,长矛扛在肩上。 西蒙怯懦地放慢了脚步,等到跟拉尔夫并肩而行,他此刻透过又落到眼边的粗硬的黑头发,仰望着拉尔夫。 拉尔夫却瞥向一边,脸上露出勉强的笑容,好象忘了西蒙以前愚弄过他,随后又看向别处,根本什么也没有看到。 有那么一会儿工夫,西蒙为自己被接受而感到快乐,接着他不再想他自己的事情。 忽然西蒙一时粗心猛撞到一棵树上,拉尔夫不情愿地向一边看去,罗伯特格格地笑了。 西蒙头昏眼花,左右摇摆,额前出现了白的一块,又变成红颜色并出了血。 拉尔夫不去理会西蒙,他又想起了自己倒霉的心事。过一会儿他们就要到城堡岩了,那时头儿就得上前。 杰克小步往回跑。 “我们能够看见了。” “好吧。我们要尽可能靠近些。”他跟在杰克身后走向城堡岩,那儿的地势稍稍高起。 在他们的左面是很难穿越的紧缠着的藤蔓和树木。 “为什么那儿不会有东西呢?” “因为你可以看到。那儿没有东西来来往往。” “那城堡岩怎么样?” “瞧吧。”拉尔夫将眼前的草分开,放眼望去。 多石的地面只有很少的几码了,再往前岛的两侧几乎要交叠起来,让人猜想前面应该是一个海岬的至高点。 但所看到的却是一条狭窄的岩石突出的部分,有几码宽,大概十五码长,使岛继续延伸到海里。 那儿卧着那种粉红色的方岩石。 这个岩石构成了这个岛的底部。 城堡岩的这一面约有一百英尺高,从山顶上远眺时他们象个粉红色的棱堡。 峭壁的岩石已经断裂,峭壁顶上凌乱地散布着似乎摇摇欲坠的大石头。 长长的野草在拉尔夫的背后,挤满了不动声色的猎手。拉尔夫朝杰克望望。 “你是个猎手。”杰克脸红了。“我知道。没错。”拉尔夫感到,有一种沉重的东西使他不自觉地说道:“我是头头。我去。别争了。” 他转向其他的孩子。“你们都躲在这儿。等着我。” 他发现自己的声音不是轻得听不见,就是显得太响。 他看着杰克。 “你是不是——认为?”杰克悠悠地答道:“到处我都去过了。那东西准在这儿。” “我清楚了。” 西蒙模糊地咕哝道:“我不信有什么野兽。” 好象同意天气不会怎么样似的,拉尔夫彬彬有礼地答道:“对。我猜也没有。” 嘴巴被拉尔夫抿紧,嘴唇苍白。 他轻轻地把头发往后捋一捋。“好吧。一会儿见。” 他勉强地挪动脚步向前走,最终走到陆地的隘口。 拉尔夫四周毫无遮拦,空气将他团团围住。即使不必向前,也无处藏身。 他在狭窄的隘口停下俯视着。没有几百年,这个城堡就会被大海变成一个岛。 右手方向是环礁湖,被浩瀚的大海冲袭着;左手方向是—— 拉尔夫不禁一颤。是环礁湖保护了他们使他们免遭太平洋的侵袭:由于某种原因,只有杰克才一直下去,到达过海边的另一侧。 此刻他以陆上人的眼光看到了滚滚浪涛的景象,认为就象某种巨兽在呼吸。 海水在礁石丛中慢慢地沉落下去,露出了一块块粉红色的花岗岩地台,露出了各种奇异的生长物:珊瑚呀,珊瑚虫呀,海藻呀。海水退啊,退啊,就象阵风吹过森林里的树梢那样沙沙地响,退却下去。 那儿有一块扁平的礁石,象张桌子似的平放着,四面的海藻被退落的海水带下去,看上去就象一座座悬崖峭壁。 然后,沉睡的利维坦呼出气来——海水又开始上涨,海藻被浮起,翻腾的海水咆哮着卷上那象桌子似的礁石。 几乎觉察不到波浪的经过,只有这一分钟一次的有规律的浪起浪落。 拉尔夫向粉红色的峭壁转过去。孩子们在他身后,等在长长的野草中,等着看他怎么办。 拉尔夫感到自己手掌心里的汗珠这会儿是凉的;他惊讶地认识到:他并不真的盼望碰到什么野兽,因为他知道碰上了他也没有胆量打赢。 拉尔夫知道自己能爬上峭壁,但是毫无意义。四四方方的山岩被一圈类似柱脚的侧石围绕着,为此在右面,俯瞰着环礁湖的那个方向,可以沿着突出部位一点点上去,拐过还有看不见的犄角。爬上去挺方便,一会儿他就能远眺山岩的四周了。 没有什么意料之外的东西:横七竖八的粉红色的大圆石,一层糖霜似的鸟粪铺在上面;一条陡峭的斜坡直通贯于棱堡之上的乱石碎砾。 拉尔夫回过头去,因为在背后有个声音。杰克正侧身沿着突出部位徐徐而上。 “你怎么可以一个人干哪。” 拉尔夫一声不吭。他带路翻上山岩,检查着一种略呈半洞穴状的岩石,里面没什么可怕的东西,有的只是一窝臭蛋,最后他坐了下来,向四周望去,用长矛柄敲打起岩石。 杰克煞是兴奋。 “在这地方做一个堡垒该有多好啊!”他的身体被一股水花溅湿了。 “不是淡水。” “那么是什么呢?”在岩石的中间处实际上挂着一长条污浊的绿颜色的水。 他们爬上去尝着细细的水流。 “在这儿可以放上个椰子壳,一直放着。” “我可不。这个地方很肮脏。” 最后一段高度他们也并肩攀上去了,最后一块断裂的岩石被越缩越小的岩石堆顶着。杰克挥拳向靠近他的一块岩石击去,石头发出微微的轧轧声。 “你记得吗——?”那段困难的时光重新占居了他们的记忆。 杰克匆匆地说道:“往那岩石下面塞进一根棕榈树干,假如敌人来了——那就瞧吧!” 他们下面大约一百英尺是狭窄的岩石突出部位——石桥,再过去是多石的地面,由此再过去在野草上是散布着的点点人头,在那之后则是森林。 “嗨哟,”杰克兴奋地叫喊道,“就会——哗地——!” 拉尔夫被杰克用手做了个向后猛推的动作之后,却向山的方向望去。 “怎么啦?” 拉尔夫转过头。 “呃?” “你在看——我不清楚怎么办。” “这会儿没信号了。不留一点踪迹。” “你真是个迷上信号的傻瓜。”  他们被蓝色的整齐的海平线包围着,只有一个地方被山峰所遮蔽。 “那就是我们所有的一切了。”长矛被拉尔夫斜倚在一块摇动的石头上,头发被双手往后捋。 “我们一定要往回赶,登上那座山。野兽是在那儿发现的。” “野兽不会在那儿。” “我们还能干什么呢?”没有受到伤害的杰克和拉尔夫被躲在野草里的其他孩子看到,全快速跑到了阳光里。 他们探险的兴奋深深地吸引了他们,把野兽忘记了。 他们涌过石桥,爬的爬、叫的叫。 拉尔夫此刻站着,一只手撑着一块大得象只水车轮子红色的石块,石块已经裂开,悬空着,有点儿摇晃。 拉尔夫沉默地注视着山头。他紧握拳头朝右捶打着红色的石墙,嘴唇紧闭着,额发下的眼睛里充满了渴望的神色。 “烟。”他舔着青肿的拳头。 “杰克!跟着我。”但是杰克已经不在那儿了。 他没注意到一小群男孩正发出的乱哄哄的吵闹声,在嗨哟嗨哟地推一块石头。 当拉尔夫转过身子时,正好石基破裂了,整块岩石,伴着轰隆一声巨响倒进大海,水柱直溅到峭壁的半腰。 “停下!停下!”他们被拉尔夫的高声大喊吓得安静下来。 “烟。” 拉尔夫的脑子里出现了一个奇怪的变化。似乎有什么东西在他的内心深处掠过,就象蝙蝠振翼那样干扰了他的思想。 “烟。”他的思想在谈到烟时立刻又清楚了,怒火也燃烧起来。 “咱们需要烟。而你们却在耽误时间。你们却滚起石头来了。” 罗杰喊道:“咱们还有很多时间!” 拉尔夫摇晃着头。“咱们一定得爬到山上去。” 一阵吵吵嚷嚷。有的男孩要回到海滩上去,有的要再滚石头。 阳光明媚,危险跟黑暗一起渐渐消失。 “杰克。野兽也许在另一侧。你再带路。你去过。” “咱们可以沿着海滩去。那儿有野果。” 比尔走近拉尔夫问道:“在这个地方我们为什么不能多待一会儿?” “说得对。” “让我们做个堡垒——” “这儿没吃的,”拉尔夫说道,“没有窝棚,也没有多少淡水。” “这儿会成为一个漂亮的堡垒的。” “我们可以滚石头——” “一直滚到那石桥上——” “我说咱们接着前进吧!”拉尔夫凶狠地叫喊道。“咱们一定要弄明白。现在就走。” “让我们待在这儿——” “回到窝棚去——” “我累了——” “不行!”拳头被拉尔夫捶击得连指关节的皮都破了。 他似乎并没有觉得痛。“我是头头。咱们一定得搞个水落石出。你们没看见山吗?那儿没有信号在发出指示。也许有一艘船正从那外面经过。你们全都疯了吗?” 男孩子们不完全同意地逐渐平静了下来,有的还在低声地抱怨着。杰克领路走下了山岩,跨过了石桥。 Chapter 7 Shadows and Tall Trees   The pig-run kept close to the jumble of rocks that lay down by the water on the other side and Ralph was content to follow Jack along it. If you could shut your ears to the slow suck down of the sea and boil of the return, if you could forget how dun and unvisited were the ferny coverts on either side, then there was a chance that you might put the beast out of mind and dream for a while. The sun had swung over the vertical and the afternoon heat was closing in on the island. Ralph passed a message forward to Jack and when they next came to fruit the whole party stopped and ate.   Sitting, Ralph was aware of the heat for the first time that day. He pulled distastefully at his grey shirt and wondered whether he might undertake the adventure of washing it. Sitting under what seemed an unusual heat, even for this island, Ralph planned his toilet. He would like to have a pair of scissors and cut this hair--he flung the mass back--cut this filthy hair right back to half an inch. He would like to have a bath, a proper wallow with soap. He passed his tongue experimentally over his teeth and decided that a toothbrush would come in handy too. Then there were his nails--   Ralph turned his hand over and examined them. They were bitten down to the quick though he could not remember when he had restarted this habit nor any time when he indulged it.   "Be sucking my thumb next--"   He looked round, furtively. Apparently no one had heard. The hunters sat, stuffing themselves with this easy meal, trying to convince themselves that they got sufficient kick out of bananas and that other olive-grey, jelly- like fruit. With the memory of his sometime clean self as a standard, Ralph looked them over. They were dirty, not with the spectacular dirt of boys who have fallen into mud or been brought down hard on a rainy day. Not one of them was an obvious subject for a shower, and yet--hair, much too long, tangled here and there, knotted round a dead leaf or a twig; faces cleaned fairly well by the process of eating and sweating but marked in the less accessible angles with a kind of shadow; clothes, worn away, stiff like his own with sweat, put on, not for decorum or comfort but out of custom; the skin of the body, scurfy with brine--   He discovered with a little fall of the heart that these were the conditions he took as normal now and that he did not mind. He sighed and pushed away the stalk from which he had stripped the fruit. Already the hunters were stealing away to do their business in the woods or down by the rocks. He turned and looked out to sea.   Here, on the other side of the island, the view was utterly different. The filmy enchantments of mirage could not endure the cold ocean water and the horizon was hard, clipped blue. Ralph wandered down to the rocks. Down here, almost on a level with the sea, you could follow with your eye the ceaseless, bulging passage of the deep sea waves. They were miles wide, apparently not breakers or the banked ridges of shallow water. They traveled the length of the island with an air of disregarding it and being set on other business; they were less a progress than a momentous rise and fall of the whole ocean. Now the sea would suck down, making cascades and waterfalls of retreating water, would sink past the rocks and plaster down the seaweed like shining hair: then, pausing, gather and rise with a roar, irresistibly swelling over point and outcrop, climbing the little cliff, sending at last an arm of surf up a gully to end a yard or so from him in fingers of spray.   Wave after wave, Ralph followed the rise and fall until something of the remoteness of the sea numbed his brain. Then gradually the almost infinite size of this water forced itself on his attention. This was the divider, the barrier. On the other side of the island, swathed at midday with mirage, defended by the shield of the quiet lagoon, one might dream of rescue; but here, faced by the brute obtuseness of the ocean, the miles of division, one was clamped down, one was helpless, one was condemned, one was--   Simon was speaking almost in his ear. Ralph found that he had rock painfully gripped in both hands, found his body arched, the muscles of his neck stiff, his mouth strained open.   "You'll get back to where you came from."   Simon nodded as he spoke. He was kneeling on one knee, looking down from a higher rock which he held with both hands; his other leg stretched down to Ralph's level.   Ralph was puzzled and searched Simon's face for a clue.   "It's so big, I mean--"   Simon nodded.   "All the same. You'll get back all right. I think so, anyway."   Some of the strain had gone from Ralph's body. He glanced at the sea and then smiled bitterly at Simon.   "Got a ship in your pocket?"   Simon grinned and shook his head.   "How do you know, then?"   When Simon was still silent Ralph said curtly, "You're batty."   Simon shook his head violently till the coarse black hair flew backwards and forwards across his face.   "No, I'm not. I just _think you'll get back all right._"   For a moment nothing more was said. And then they suddenly smiled at each other.      Roger called from the coverts.   "Come and see!"   The ground was turned over near the pig-run and there were droppings that steamed. Jack bent down to them as though he loved them.   "Ralph--we need meat even if we are hunting the other thing."   "If you mean going the right way, we'll hunt."   They set off again, the hunters bunched a little by fear of the mentioned beast, while Jack quested ahead. They went more slowly than Ralph had bargained for; yet in a way he was glad to loiter, cradling his spear. Jack came up against some emergency of his craft and soon the procession stopped. Ralph leaned against a tree and at once the daydreams came swarming up. Jack was in charge of the hunt and there would be time to get to the mountain--   Once, following his father from Chatham to Devonport, they had lived in a cottage on the edge of the moors. In the succession of houses that Ralph had known, this one stood out with particular clarity because after that house he had been sent away to school. Mummy had still been with them and Daddy had come home every day. Wild ponies came to the stone wall at the bottom of the garden, and it had snowed. Just behind the cottage there was a sort of shed and you could lie up there, watching the flakes swirl past. You could see the damp spot where each flake died, then you could mark the first flake that lay down without melting and watch, the whole ground turn white. You could go indoors when you were cold and look out of the window, past the bright copper kettle and the plate with the little blue men.   When you went to bed there was a bowl of cornflakes with sugar and cream. And the books--they stood on the shelf by the bed, leaning together with always two or three laid flat on top because he had not bothered to put them back properly. They were dog-eared and scratched. There was the bright, shining one about Topsy and Mopsy that he never read because it was about two girls; there was the one about the magician which you read with a kind of tied-down terror, skipping page twenty-seven with the awful picture of the spider; there was a book about people who had dug things up, Egyptian things; there was _The Boy's Book of Trains_, _The Boy's Book of Ships_. Vividly they came before him; he could have reached up and touched them, could feel the weight and slow slide with which _The Mammoth Book for Boys_ would come out and slither down. . . . Everything was all right; everything was good-humored and friendly.   The bushes crashed ahead of them. Boys flung themselves wildly from the pig track and scrabbled in the creepers, screaming. Ralph saw Jack nudged aside and fall. Then there was a creature bounding along the pig track toward him, with tusks gleaming and an intimidating grunt. Ralph found he was able to measure the distance coldly and take aim. With the boar only five yards away, he flung the foolish wooden stick that he carried, saw it hit the great snout and hang there for a moment. The boar's note changed to a squeal and it swerved aside into the covert. The pig-run filled with shouting boys again, Jack came running back, and poked about in the undergrowth.   "Through here--"   "But he'd do us!"   "Through here, I said--"   The boar was floundering away from them. They found another pig-run parallel to the first and Jack raced away. Ralph was full of fright and apprehension and pride.   "I hit him! The spear stuck in--"   Now they came, unexpectedly, to an open space by the sea. Jack cast about on the bare rock and looked anxious.   "He's gone."   "I hit him," said Ralph again, "and the spear stuck in a bit."   He felt the need of witnesses.   "Didn't you see me?"   Maurice nodded.   "I saw you. Right bang on his snout--Wheee!"   Ralph talked on, excitedly.   "I hit him all right. The spear stuck in. I wounded him!"   He sunned himself in their new respect and felt that hunting was good after all.   "I walloped him properly. That was the beast, I think!" Jack came back.   "That wasn't the beast. That was a boar."   "I hit him."   "Why didn't you grab him? I tried--"   Ralph's voice ran up.   "But a boar!"   Jack flushed suddenly.   "You said he'd do us. What did you want to throw for? Why didn't you wait?   He held out his arm.   "Look."   He turned his left forearm for them all to see. On the outside was a rip; not much, but bloody.   "He did that with his tusks. I couldn't get my spear down in time."   Attention focused on Jack.   "That's a wound," said Simon, "and you ought to suck it. Like Berengaria."   Jack sucked.   "I hit him," said Ralph indignantly. "I hit him with my spear, I wounded him."   He tried for their attention.   "He was coming along the path. I threw, like this--"   Robert snarled at him. Ralph entered into the play and everybody laughed. Presently they were all jabbing at Robert who made mock rushes.   Jack shouted.   "Make a ring!"   The circle moved in and round. Robert squealed in mock terror, then in real pain.   "Ow! Stop it! You're hurting!"   The butt end of a spear fell on his back as he blundered among them.   "Hold him!"   They got his arms and legs. Ralph, carried away by a sudden thick excitement, grabbed Eric's spear and jabbed at Robert with it.   "Kill him! Kill him!"   All at once, Robert was screaming and struggling with the strength of frenzy. Jack had him by the hair and was brandishing his knife. Behind him was Roger, fighting to get close. The chant rose ritually, as at the last moment of a dance or a hunt.   "_Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!_"   Ralph too was fighting to get near, to get a handful of that brown, vulnerable flesh. The desire to squeeze and hurt was over-mastering.   Jack's arm came down; the heaving circle cheered and made pig-dying noises. Then they lay quiet, panting, listening to Robert's frightened snivels. He wiped his face with a dirty arm, and made an effort to retrieve his status.   "Oh, my bum!"   He rubbed his rump ruefully. Jack rolled over.   "That was a good game."   "Just a game," said Ralph uneasily. "I got jolly badly hurt at rugger once."   "We ought to have a drum," said Maurice, "then we could do it properly."   Ralph looked at him.   "How properly?"   "I dunno. You want a fire, I think, and a drum, and you keep time to the drum.   "You want a pig," said Roger, "like a real hunt."   "Or someone to pretend," said Jack. "You could get someone to dress up as a pig and then he could act--you know, pretend to knock me over and all that."   "You want a real pig," said Robert, still caressing his rump, "because you've got to kill him."   "Use a littlun," said Jack, and everybody laughed.      Ralph sat up.   "Well. We shan't find what we're looking for at this rate."   One by one they stood up, twitching rags into place.   Ralph looked at Jack.   "Now for the mountain."   "Shouldn't we go back to Piggy," said Maurice, "before dark?"   The twins nodded like one boy.   "Yes, that's right. Let's go up there in the morning."   Ralph looked out and saw the sea.   "We've got to start the fire again."   "You haven't got Piggy's specs," said Jack, "so you can't.''   "Then we'll find out if the mountain's clear."   Maurice spoke, hesitating, not wanting to seem a funk.   "Supposing the beast's up there?"   Jack brandished his spear.   "We'll kill it."   The sun seemed a little cooler. He slashed with the spear.   "What are we waiting for?"   "I suppose," said Ralph, "if we keep on by the sea this way, we'll come out below the burnt bit and then we can climb the mountain.   Once more Jack led them along by the suck and heave of the blinding sea.   Once more Ralph dreamed, letting his skillful feet deal with the difficulties of the path. Yet here his feet seemed less skillful than before. For most of the way they were forced right down to the bare rock by the water and had to edge along between that and the dark luxuriance of the forest. There were little cliffs to be scaled, some to be used as paths, lengthy traverses where one used hands as well as feet. Here and there they could clamber over wave-wet rock, leaping across clear pools that the tide had left. They came to a gully that split the narrow foreshore like a defense. This seemed to have no bottom and they peered awe-stricken into the gloomy crack where water gurgled. Then the wave came back, the gully boiled before them and spray dashed up to the very creeper so that the boys were wet and shrieking. They tried the forest but it was thick and woven like a bird's nest. In the end they had to jump one by one, waiting till the water sank; and even so, some of them got a second drenching. After that the rocks seemed to be growing impassable so they sat for a time, letting their rags dry and watching the clipped outlines of the rollers that moved so slowly past the island. They found fruit in a haunt of bright little birds that hovered like insects. Then Ralph said they were going too slowly. He himself climbed a tree and parted the canopy, and saw the square head of the mountain seeming still a great way off. Then they tried to hurry along the rocks and Robert cut his knee quite badly and they had to recognize that this path must be taken slowly if they were to be safe. So they proceeded after that as if they were climbing a dangerous mountain, until the rocks became an uncompromising cliff, overhung with impossible jungle and falling sheer into the sea.   Ralph looked at the sun critically.   "Early evening. After tea-time, at any rate."   "I don't remember this cliff," said Jack, crestfallen, "so this must be the bit of the coast I missed."   Ralph nodded.   "Let me think."   By now, Ralph had no self-consciousness in public thinking but would treat the day's decisions as though he were playing chess. The only trouble was that he would never be a very good chess player. He thought of the littluns and Piggy. Vividly he imagined Piggy by himself, huddled in a shelter that was silent except for the sounds of nightmare.   "We can't leave the littluns alone with Piggy. Not all night."   The other boys said nothing but stood round, watching him.   "If we went back we should take hours."   Jack cleared his throat and spoke in a queer, tight voice. "We mustn't let anything happen to Piggy, must we?" Ralph tapped his teeth with the dirty point of Eric's spear.   "If we go across--"   He glanced round him.   "Someone's got to go across the island and tell Piggy we'll be back after dark."   Bill spoke, unbelieving.   "Through the forest by himself? Now?"   "We can't spare more than one."   Simon pushed his way to Ralph's elbow.   "I'll go if you like. I don't mind, honestly."   Before Ralph had time to reply, he smiled quickly, turned and climbed into the forest.   Ralph looked back at Jack, seeing him, infuriatingly, for the first time.   "Jack--that time you went the whole way to the castle rock."   Jack glowered.   "Yes?"   "You came along part of this shore--below the mountain, beyond there."   "Yes."   "And then?"   "I found a pig-run. It went for miles."   "So the pig-run must be somewhere in there."   Ralph nodded. He pointed at the forest.   Everybody agreed, sagely.   "All right then. We'll smash a way through till we find the pig-run."   He took a step and halted.   "Wait a minute though! Where does the pig-run go to?"   "The mountain," said Jack, "I told you." He sneered. "Don't you want to go to the mountain?"   Ralph sighed, sensing the rising antagonism, understanding that this was how Jack felt as soon as he ceased to lead.   "I was thinking of the light. We'll be stumbling about."   "We were going to look for the beast."   "There won't be enough light."   "I don't mind going," said Jack hotly. "I'll go when we get there. Won't you? Would you rather go back to the shelters and tell Piggy?"   Now it was Ralph's turn to flush but he spoke despairingly, out of the new understanding that Piggy had given him.   "Why do you hate me?"   The boys stirred uneasily, as though something indecent had been said. The silence lengthened.   Ralph, still hot and hurt, turned away first.   "Come on."   He led the way and set himself as by right to hack at the tangles. Jack brought up the rear, displaced and brooding.   The pig-track was a dark tunnel, for the sun was sliding quickly toward the edge of the world and in the forest shadows were never far to seek. The track was broad and beaten and they ran along at a swift trot. Then the roof of leaves broke up and they halted, breathing quickly, looking at the few stars that pricked round the head of the mountain.   "There you are."   The boys peered at each other doubtfully. Ralph made a decision.   "We'll go straight across to the platform and climb tomorrow."   They murmured agreement; but Jack was standing by his shoulder.   "If you're frightened of course--"   Ralph turned on him.   "Who went first on the castle rock?"   "I went too. And that was daylight."   "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.   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. 第七章 大树和黄昏 在海边的另一侧,是一片乱七八糟的山岩,靠近着山岩有一条野猪出没的羊肠小道,拉尔夫心满意足地跟着杰克沿小道前进。 倘若能塞耳不闻大海慢吞吞地吸落声,又翻腾着席卷重来,倘若能视而不见小道两旁羊齿丛生的树丛多么暗无天日,从来没有人来到此处,那么你就有可能不记得野兽,梦想一阵子。骄阳已经摆过了当头,岛上下午的暑气越来越闷热。 拉尔夫给前面的杰克递了个口信,等到再遇着野果的时候,大家就停下来吃一顿。 拉尔夫坐下以后,那天他第一次注意到了暑热。 他讨厌地扯扯灰衬衫,拿不定主意是否该把它洗洗。 即使是对于这个岛来说,这会儿的暑热似乎也是有别于以往的,坐在这样的暑热之下,拉尔夫捉摸着如何清洗一番。 拉尔夫希望有一把剪子来剪剪他这头发——乱糟糟的长发被他向后一甩——把这脏透的头发剪到半英寸长。他希望洗个澡,擦上肥皂好好地洗一洗。拉尔夫试用舌头舔舔牙齿,异想着随手要是有把牙刷也很好。还有他的指甲——手被拉尔夫翻过来仔细查看。指甲已被咬到最贴肉的地方,尽管他记不起什么时候又开始了这种恶习,什么时候又沉溺于这种恶习。 “以后得吮大拇指——”他鬼鬼祟祟地朝四下看了看。明显的没人听见他说话。 猎手们坐着,正狼吞虎咽地吃着这种来得容易的饭食,他们试图使自己相信:香蕉,还有另一种淡青灰色的浆果,吃起来真是意犹未尽。  拉尔夫想着自己还是很清洁的,用这样的标准,他们被他一个个瞧个仔细。 猎手们肮脏不堪,不是摔在泥地里浑身是泥浆的脏样,也不是被大雨天淋得象个落汤鸡似的狼狈相。 在外表他们没有一个十分明显地脏,然而——头发太长,东缠西绕,在里面裹着枯枝残叶。 因为边吃边流汗,脸倒还算干净,但是从某些特别的角度,就看得出有黑黑的污垢。衣衫褴褛,就象他自己穿的那件一样,被汗水弄得十分僵硬,他们穿上衣服,既不是为了装饰,也不是为了舒适,只是出于习惯而已,孩子们赤裸的身上满是盐屑—— 拉尔夫发现自己现在对这种状况已习惯了,毫不介意,心头微微一沉。 他叹息着,推开他从上面剥下过野果的那根树梗。 猎手们有的已经悄悄地跑开到树林子里,有的跑到了山岩下面去干他们的营生了。 他转身朝大海望去。 在这儿,在海岛的另一侧,景象截然不同。经受不住冷冰冰的大洋水,海市蜃楼的朦胧魅力不见了,海平面轮廓清晰,蓝得刺眼。 拉尔夫缓慢走下山岩。在下面这儿,几乎跟大海同一个水平面上,可以放眼追随深海的涌浪凶涌向前。涌浪有好几英里宽,很容易可以看得出不是碎浪,也不是浅水处隆起的浪脊。 涌浪横跨整个海岛,带着一种满不在乎的气势,又开始了自己的征程;与其说涌浪滚滚向前,不如说整个大洋在惊心动魄地一起一伏。 这时海潮将要吸落下去,退却的海水白浪滔滔,形成了无数道大小瀑布,海水越过重重礁石而沉落,海藻紧贴着垂荡下去,就象闪闪发亮的头发:片刻之后,积聚起力量后,海潮又怒吼起来,势不可挡地涌上礁石尖儿和地层露头,爬上小岩,以一股拍岸激浪冲上海沟,最后在离拉尔夫一、二码的地方化为飞沫。 一浪高过一浪,拉尔夫的目光追随着起伏的波涛,直看到海洋的无边无际使他的头脑开始发晕。 然后,几乎是无边的海水又慢慢地迫使他集中精力。 大海——就是间隔和障壁。在岛屿的另一侧,正午处在蜃景的包围中,他们被宁静的环礁湖袒护着,谁都可以幻想得救;但是在这儿,面对着这蛮横而愚沌的大洋,面对着这茫无边际的隔绝,谁都会觉得无计可施,谁都会感到无依无助,谁都会绝望,谁都会—— 西蒙几乎就在他耳边说起了话。 西蒙痛苦地双手紧抓住岩石,这一动作被拉尔夫发现,弓着身体,挺直脖子,张大着嘴巴。 “你会回到老地方的。”西蒙说着并点着头。 他单膝下跪,双手抓住一块较高的岩石俯看着,另一条腿向下伸到拉尔夫的身旁。 拉尔夫百思不得其解,细细察看西蒙的脸,想找出点名堂来。 “这么大,我是说——”西蒙点点头。“反正一样。你一定能平安地返回。不管怎样,我是这样认为的。” 拉尔夫的身体稍微轻松一点。 他朝大海瞥了一眼,之后挖苦地笑着朝西蒙说:“有条船在你的口袋里?” 西蒙咧嘴摇晃着脑袋。 “那你怎么会知道呢?” 西蒙还没吭声,拉尔夫就粗鲁地说道,“你发疯了。” 西蒙不住地摇头,粗硬的黑发拂过他的脸部,前后乱甩。 “不是,我不是那个意思。我只是认为你总会回来的,不会出什么事。” 此刻两个人都一声不吭。 然后他们俩不期然地互相笑了笑。 这时候在树丛里罗杰叫喊起来:“来看哪!” 野猪走过的羊肠小道近旁,地面被翻了起来,还留着冒热气的粪便。 杰克俯身看得起劲,好象很欣喜的样子。 “拉尔夫——要是咱们追捕别的东西也需要肉。” “要是你走的路对头,咱们就打猎吧。” 他们再次起程,由于提到了野兽,猎手们有点胆颤心惊,互相紧靠着,杰克在前面开路。 他们走得比拉尔夫预想的更慢,然而在某种程度上拉尔夫愿意捧着长矛慢慢地走。 不一会儿,杰克迷失了方向,队伍只好停顿下来。拉尔夫在树上靠着,很快做起了白日梦。 打猎是杰克负责,到山头还有时间呢—— 拉尔夫以前跟着父亲从查塔姆到德文波特去过,他们在沼地边的一座村舍里住着。 在拉尔夫所记得的一栋栋房子中,这一座却给他留下了深刻的印象,因为此后就把他送去上学了。那时候妈妈还跟他们住一块儿,爸爸天天回家。野生的小马会跑到花园尽头的石墙前。 就在这座村舍的后面,还有一间小棚屋,天已在下雪,可以躺在那儿,看着缤纷的雪花飘舞落下。可以看到每片雪花消失后都润湿了一小片泥土,随后又可以看到第一片飘落而未溶化的雪花,观赏到整个大地变成白茫茫的一片。要是觉得冷可以走进屋里,越过铮亮的铜茶壶和带蓝色小人儿的茶盘,透过窗口向外眺望—— 每次睡觉之前总会有一碗带糖和奶油的玉米片。还有不少竖在床旁的书架上,斜靠在一起的书,因为他懒得把书放回原处,所以总有两三本平放在书顶上。 这几本书折着边角,上面乱涂乱画。 有一本是关于托普茜和莫普茜的书,这本书色彩鲜明,闪闪发亮,很吸引人,可他从未看过,因为那本书讲的是两个小姑娘,有一本说的是妖道术士,让人看得心惊肉跳,跳翻到二十七页上有一幅狰狞可怕的蜘蛛图;还有本书谈的是发掘旧东西的人,发掘埃及的玩意儿;还有儿童读物《火车》和《轮船》。 这些书都绘声绘色地跑到了拉尔夫面前,他似乎触手可及,似乎感觉到了那厚厚的少年百科全书挤出来滑下去时的分量和慢慢的移动。 …… 一切都很好,一切都那么的愉快而又令人向往。 哗啦一声撞开了队伍前方的矮灌木丛。孩子们发狂地从野猪小道上逃开来,在藤蔓中他们爬呀叫呀。 拉尔夫看见别人的手肘把杰克推向一边,并倒在地上。 随即有一个东西沿着野猪的小道径直朝他跳着冲来,它獠牙闪闪,发出恐怖的哼哼声。 拉尔夫感到自己能冷静地算出距离瞄准目标。 野公猪到了只有五码开外,手中那根笨拙的尖木棒被拉尔夫掷过去,野猪的大鼻子被尖木棒打中了,还在那上面挂了片刻。 野公猪的叫声变了,开始尖声地急叫起来,它猛地朝旁边折进了浓密的树丛。 尖声叫喊的孩子们把野猪出没的小道挤满了,杰克奔了回来,拨弄着矮树丛。 “穿过这儿——” “它可会要咱们的命哩!” “我是说穿过这儿——”野公猪挣扎着向远方狂奔去。 他们还发现有一条野猪通道,同第一条羊肠小道相互平行,杰克忙顺着道跑开了。 拉尔夫充满吃惊、担心和自豪感。 “我投中了!长矛扎了进去——”接着他们竟想不到地追到了海边的一块开阔地。 杰克焦急地在光秃秃的岩石上搜寻着。 “野猪跑了。” “我投中了。”拉尔夫又说,“长矛扎进一点。”他感到需要有人证实一下。 “你没看到我投吗?” 莫里斯点点头。“我看到你投的。正扎在猪鼻上——嗖地一声!” 拉尔夫兴奋地接着讲下去:“我确实投中了。长矛扎了进去。它被我刺伤了!” 得到孩子们新的尊敬,拉尔夫心里很得意。他感到打猎毕竟是件好事。 “它被我狠狠地扎了一下。我想那就是野兽!” 杰克回来了。“那不是野兽,那是头野公猪。” “我打中了它。” “你为什么不抓住它呢?我尽力——”拉尔夫的话音高起来。“可那是头野公猪呢!”杰克的脸涨得红通通的。 “你说它会要我们的命。为什么你急急忙忙要投呢?为什么你不等一会呢?” 杰克伸出手臂。“瞧瞧。”他让大伙儿看他的左前臂。 手臂的外侧是一道口子,虽然不大,但却是血淋淋的。“这是野公猪用獠牙挑的。我来不及把长矛扎进去。” 杰克被大家注视着。 “那是伤口,”西蒙说道,“你要吮吸伤口的血,就象贝伦加利亚那样。” 杰克吮吸着伤口。 “它被我打中了,”拉尔夫怒气冲冲地说。“我用长矛扎中的,野公猪被我刺伤了。”他有意再引起他们的注意。 “踏着小路野公猪奔过来了。我就象这样一掷——”罗伯特朝他吼着。 拉尔夫跟他玩起来,逗得大家都笑了。一会儿他们都用长矛去刺罗伯特,而罗伯特模仿猪的样子到处乱窜。 杰克叫喊道:“拉开圈子!”一伙孩子围起圈子,占好位置。 罗伯特模仿把猪吓得吱喳乱叫的声音,接着果真痛得直叫起来。 “哦!别打了!我被你们打痛了!”罗伯特在他们当中四处地乱逃,一支长矛柄砸在他背上。 “逮住他!”他的手臂和腿部被他们抓住不放。 拉尔夫欣喜若狂,忘乎所以,埃里克的长矛被他一把抢过来,猛戳罗伯特。 “宰了他!宰了他!”同一时刻,罗伯特尖声地叫,狂蹦乱跳地拼命挣扎。 他的头发被杰克一把揪住,挥舞着刀子。 杰克背后是罗杰,正抢上前来。 孩子们齐声叫喊的声音更加响亮,就象他们在举行什么仪式,就象接近了跳舞和打猎的高潮。 “杀野猪哟!割喉咙哟!杀野猪哟!狠狠揍哟!”拉尔夫也抢着凑上前去,将没有防卫能力的褐色的肉使劲儿拧去。 紧拧和加以伤害的欲望主宰了一切。 杰克的臂膀往下一沉。上下起伏的一圈孩子欢呼着,模仿地喊出野猪临死的惨叫。 随后欢呼声渐渐消失,躺下来,喘着粗气,倾听着罗伯特惊恐的啜泣。 用脏手臂擦着他的面孔,竭力爬起来。 “嗳哟,我的屁股呀!”罗伯特烦恼地揉着臀部,杰克滚了过来。“这样玩真带劲。” “开个玩笑的,”拉尔夫不安地说道。“有一次我打橄榄球也痛得很厉害。” “咱们该弄一面鼓,”莫里斯说,“那一定更好玩。” 拉尔夫瞧瞧他。“怎么象样呢?” “我不明白。我认为,要火堆,还要有面鼓,可以用鼓打拍子。” “要有一头野猪,”罗杰说,“就象真正的打猎一样。” “或者有个人来装扮一下,”杰克说。“可以找个人打扮得象头野猪,然后他可以扮演起来——你晓得,我被假装撞倒,如此,等等——” 有一头真野猪该多好,”罗伯特一面还在摸着臀部说,“因为要把它宰了。” “让小家伙试试,”杰克说,笑声又起来了。 拉尔夫端坐起来。“嘿,如果不加快速度是找不到咱们要找的东西的。” 他们陆续站起来,以最快的速度穿上破衣烂衫。 拉尔夫看着杰克。“该上山了。” “在天黑以前咱们要不要赶回到猪崽子那儿去呢?”莫里斯问道。 双胞胎就象一个人似地点着头。 “对,说得对呀。咱们早上再来爬吧!”拉尔夫向大海远处眺望。 “咱们得再把火堆点着。” “没有猪崽子的眼镜,”杰克说,“所以生不了火。” “咱们可以搞清山上有没有能燃着的东西。” 莫里斯踌躇地开了口,又不想要让人以为他好象是个懦夫。“如果野兽在那山头上呢?” 杰克挥舞着长矛。“咱们把它宰了。”此时太阳仿佛不那么狠毒了。杰克拿着长矛乱刺乱捅。 “还等着干吗?” “我猜,”拉尔夫说,“要是咱们继续这样沿着海边走,就会走到生火那地点的下方,然后咱们再爬山。” 他们被杰克再一次领着沿着一退一涨的,令人眼花的大海往前走着。 拉尔夫再一次做起白日梦来,他脚步灵巧地避开小路上的障碍。 然而到这儿,他的脚步看来似乎没有以前那样灵巧。因为大部分的路程孩子们被迫直下到海边的光岩石处,他们非得在林木茂盛的黑的森林和岩石边之间侧身慢走。 要攀登每一座小陡壁,有的简直就当做是前进的道路,在长长的之字形攀爬中,每个人都伸展开四肢攀爬着。 他们到处都要爬过被海浪打湿的岩石,从海水退后留下的清澈的小水潭跳过。孩子们碰上了一道把狭窄的岸坡隔开,防御工事似的海沟。  海沟深不可测,他们害怕地俯看着海水汩汩的黑幽幽的裂缝。 随即海浪又冲了回来,海沟里的海水翻腾着,在他们面前,浪花四溅,正好溅到藤蔓里,孩子们身上被弄湿了,口中尖声叫唤。 他们尝试着穿越森林,可森林严严实实,交织缠绕得就象鸟窝似的。 最终他们只得等海水退时一个接一个跳过去,即使这样,有些孩子还是又一次淋得湿透。 之后的山岩似乎更加难以通过,因此他们只好暂时坐下休息一会儿,好让一身破衣烂衫干一干,他们注视着缓缓地越过海岛的一排排清晰轮廓的巨浪。一群欢快的小鸟象昆虫似的飞来飞去,他们在小鸟出入的地方,又找到了野果。 拉尔夫说他们走得太慢了。他爬上了一棵大树,拨开枝叶茂盛的树冠,看到四四方方的山头似乎还是在远方。 然后他们就沿着山岩急匆匆地赶起路来,出乎意料的罗伯特的膝盖却被割伤了,伤势还是挺严重的,这才使大家意识到,如果要想不出事,这条小路就必须慢慢地爬。 此后他们就象是在爬一座险峻的山岭那样艰难地挪着,直爬到山岩形成了一道无法攀登的悬崖绝壁,突出在绝壁之上的是难以对付的丛林,整块山岩则直落到大海之中。 拉尔夫审视太阳。“现在是傍晚了。至少吃茶点的时间已经过了。” “这道绝壁我早已把它忘了,”杰克垂头丧气地说道,“我好像从来没有来过这儿。” 拉尔夫点点头。“让我猜猜看。”直到今日,拉尔夫对当众思考并不感到有什么不好意思,他只是把白天作决定当做在下棋。 唯一的麻烦是,他不可能成为一个出色的棋手。 拉尔夫想到了小家伙们和猪崽子,他生动地想象出猪崽子一个人蜷缩在窝棚里,除了做恶梦的叫声,那周围就再也没其它声音了。 “咱们不能让小家伙单跟猪崽子在一起,不能让他们整夜独自待着。” 剩下的孩子全一言不发,只是围成圈站着,注视着他。“要是咱们现在赶回去那就要耽误时间了。” 杰克清清嗓子,以一种奇怪的、局促的口气说道:“咱们不能让猪崽子再出什么乱子,是不是?” 长矛拿在拉尔夫手里,用肮脏的矛尖轻敲着自己的牙齿。“要是咱们横穿过——”他四下查看。“得有人穿过岛去告诉猪崽子,咱们要天黑以后才回去。” 比尔怀疑地问:“在这会儿要一个人穿过森林吗?咱们最多能省出一个人来。” 西蒙挤过人群,走到拉尔夫身旁。“你如果许可的话,我去。老实说,我不在乎。” 还没等拉尔夫回答,西蒙紧接着笑了笑,转身就爬进了森林。 拉尔夫转头看着杰克,第一次狂怒地瞪着眼睛。“杰克——那次到城堡岩去,你走过整个一条路。” 杰克也怒目而视。“是呀?” “你是沿着这部分海岸走的——到了山的下面,再过去一点。” “对呀。” “后来呢?” “我发现一条有几英里长的野猪跑的小道。” 拉尔夫点点头并指着森林。“那么野猪的小道准在那附近。” 人人都像有这么回事是的表示同意。 “那好吧。咱们先穿过森林踏出一条路来,找到那条野猪小道再说。”他走了一步又停下。“再等一等!野猪的小道通向哪儿?” “山头,”杰克说,“我曾对你说过。”他讪笑着说道。“你不是要上山吗?” 拉尔夫叹了口气,感到火药味儿很浓,他明白这是因为杰克感到领不了路而在发火。 “我在考虑着光线,要不然我们走起来会跌跤的。” “我们要去找找野兽——” “光线太暗。” “我无所谓,”杰克语气激烈地说。“咱们到了那儿我就去。你不去吗?你还是乐意回到窝棚去告诉猪崽子吧?” 这时可轮到拉尔夫脸红耳赤了,由于猪崽子告诉过他,拉尔夫对杰克有了更深的了解,他只是绝望地问道:“为什么你要恨我?” 孩子们害怕地动了一下,似乎拉尔夫说了什么不体面的话。 又是一阵寂静。拉尔夫仍在气头上,感情受到了打击,他先转开身去。 “跟我来。”拉尔夫走在前面,他朝缠绕着的藤蔓乱劈乱砍。 杰克在队伍尾部压阵,忽而有一种被人取代的感觉,没精打采地在想些什么。 野猪时常在这条黑幽幽的通道上出没,夕阳西下,拉开黑色的天幕,树林里总是阴森可怖。 这条路既宽又坚固,他们沿着小路快步跑着。盖在头顶上密密的树叶豁然开朗,他们收住脚,气喘吁吁地看着环绕山头稀疏闪烁着的星星。 “瞧,到了。”孩子们心神不定地彼此对看着。 拉尔夫作了决定。“咱们直穿到平台去,明儿再来爬。” 他们喃喃地表示同意,可是杰克却正在他肩旁站着。“要是你吓坏了,那当然——” 拉尔夫转过来与他相对。“谁是第一个上城堡岩的?” “我也上了。而且当时是大白天。” “好吧。谁想要现在就爬山?”回答他的只是一片沉默。 “萨姆纳里克?你们怎么样?” “咱们该去和猪崽子说一声——” “——对,告诉猪崽子——” “可西蒙已经去了!” “咱们该去告诉猪崽子——万一——” “罗伯特?比尔?”他们这时正向平台走去。当然,不是因为害怕——而是累了。 拉尔夫转身看向杰克。“你瞧?” “我打算上山头。”杰克凶狠地说着,就象是在诅咒。 他绷直了瘦身子瞪着拉尔夫,长矛拿在手里,好象在威胁拉尔夫。“我打算上山去找找野兽——现在就去。” 随后是火辣辣的刺激,貌似随口说出,实则怀恨在心。 “你去吗?” 别的孩子听着这话忘记了马上想走,又折回来瞧着这两个人在黑暗中新一轮的斗法。 杰克的话太棒了,太恶了,太咄咄逼人了,不必再次重复。 拉尔夫措手不及,神经已经放松。因为他想着回到窝棚,回到平静而亲切的环礁湖水去。 “我不在乎。” “他被他自己既冷静又随便的声音所吓倒,杰克恶意的嘲笑已经失去了效力。 “要是你不在乎,那当然。” “哼,我根本不在乎。” 杰克大跨一步。“那好吧——”安静的孩子们看着这两个人开始并肩爬山。 拉尔夫停了一下。“咱们真傻。为什么就两个人上呢?要是发现什么东西,两个人可不够——” 孩子们匆匆逃开的脚步声被听到。使人感到吃惊的是,有一个黑乎乎的人影却逆流而动。 “罗杰吗?” “是我。” “那就有三个了。” 他们再一次出发去爬山坡。四周是黑潮流般的夜色。 杰克一声不吭,呛着一下,咳嗽起来。 阵风吹过,他们三个全都嘴里呸呸地吐着唾沫。 拉尔夫泪水直淌,眼前一片模糊。 “全是灰尘。咱们已经到了烧过的火堆这块地方的边缘了。”还有不时吹拂的微风和他们的脚步,扬起了一小股讨厌的尘灰。 他们又停下了,拉尔夫边咳嗽边想到他们有多蠢。 要是并没有野兽——其实根本没有野兽——那当然皆大欢喜;可要是真有东西在山顶上等着——他们三个又管什么用——面前是一片令人恐怖的黑暗,手里只拿着木棒? “咱们真是傻瓜。” 黑暗中有人答话说:“害怕了?” 拉尔夫恼火地晃动着身体。这全是杰克的过错。 “我当然怕了。可咱们还是傻瓜。” “如果害怕不敢上了,”那声音讥讽地说,“我就一个人上。” 拉尔夫听着杰克的挖苦,真是恨透了他。眼眶里尘灰扎眼,他又累又怕,因此勃然大怒。“那就去吧!我们在这儿等着。” 一片鸦雀无声。 “为什么你就不去呢?吓坏了?”有一团较深的黑影在黑暗中呈现,那是杰克,跟他们分开后就走了。 “好。回头见。”黑影不见了。 又出现了另一个黑影。拉尔夫感到自己的膝盖碰着什么硬东西,原来是摇动了一根烧焦的既锋利又难以触摸的树干。 他感觉到树皮烧成的尖尖的余烬朝他膝盖后部推过来,知道罗杰已坐了下去。 他用手摸索着,就蹲在了罗杰的身旁,与此同时在无形的灰烬中,树干晃来晃去。 罗杰天性沉默寡言,他一言不发,既不发表有关野兽的意见,也不告诉拉尔夫他为何要进行这种发疯的探险。 他只是坐着,轻摇着树干。拉尔夫听到了一阵轻快而又令人恼怒的敲打声,知道这是罗杰用他那根蠢木棒在敲打着什么。 他们就那样坐着,罗杰摇晃着,轻敲着,无所事事。拉尔夫却正生着气;夜空逼近,他们周围,除了山顶戳破的那块夜色,其余的天空是满天星斗。 这个时刻,在他们上面发出了一阵溜着地急走的声音,有人冒险地闯过山岩和尘灰,大步走着。 随后他们被杰克找到,他浑身哆嗦,哭丧着声音说起话来,他们刚听得出是杰克的口音。“在山顶上我看到一样东西。”他们听到一根树干被他撞得摇晃得很厉害的声音。 他静躺了一会儿,接着咕哝道:“注意。那东西可能跟上来。” 一阵噼里啪啦的声音在他们四周的灰烬里响起。 杰克坐了起来。“我看到山上有一个身体会发胀的东西。” “这是你想象出来的吧,”拉尔夫颤抖地说,“因为没有什么东西身体会发胀的,不管什么生物都不会发胀。” 他们被罗杰的声音吓了一跳,因为已把他忘了。“青蛙。” 杰克全身战栗,格格地笑出声来。 “有种青蛙。会发出一种‘噗噗’嘈杂响声。那东西的身体还会膨胀呢。” 拉尔夫吃了一惊,倒不是因为自己说话的声音——他的语调平静——而是因为自己大胆的想法。“咱们上去看看。” 自从拉尔夫认识杰克以来,他第一次感到杰克踌躇不前。 “这会儿——?” 拉尔夫的口气可以想象。“那当然。”拉尔夫跳下树干,领头朝上走着,横穿过发出响声的灰烬,身影淹没在沉沉的夜色之中,其他两人跟在后面。 拉尔夫有形的话音沉默下去,他内在的理智的话音,还有其他话音,象泉水一样涌现出来。 猪崽子称他为小孩儿。另一个话音告诉他别做傻瓜了,黑暗和危险的行动使夜晚如牙医的椅子般地变来变去,不可捉摸。 他们走到最后一段斜坡时,杰克和罗杰靠得更近了——从墨水似的阴影变成了清晰可辨的人影。 他们不期然地停住了脚,蹲伏在一块儿。在他们背后,海平线之上,一块天空逐渐变亮一点,很快月亮就会升上来。 阵风又一次呼呼地在林中怒号起来,把他们的破衣烂衫吹得紧贴在身上。 拉尔夫移动了一下。“跟我来。”他们轻轻地匍匐向前,罗杰落后一点。 杰克和拉尔夫一起翻过了山脊。 耀眼的环礁湖平卧在他们之下,环礁湖向前是一长条礁石,白晃晃地模糊一片。罗杰跟了上来。 杰克低声说道:“咱们用手和膝盖轻轻地往前爬。或许那东西睡着了。” 罗杰和拉尔夫朝前移动着,杰克跟在后面,尽管他说过好些豪言壮语。 他们来到平坦的山头,那儿的山岩对手和膝盖而言是很硬的。 有一个胀鼓鼓的家伙。拉尔夫把手插进了冷冷的、松软的火堆灰烬之中,没让自己惊叫出来。 由于这不期而遇的触碰:他的手和肩都在颤动。刹那间出现了令人恶心的绿光,在夜色中忽而又消失了。 罗杰躺在他身后,杰克的嘴巴正在他耳旁轻轻说着:“那边过去,那儿的岩石原来有个裂口,有一堆东西——看到吗?” 一阵风把熄灭的火堆中的一股灰烬吹到了拉尔夫脸上。 他既看不见裂口,也看不见有什么别的东西,因为绿色的光又亮起来了,并且更亮了,山顶正在滑向一侧。 他再次听到了一段距离之外杰克的咕哝声。 “吓慌了?”就要被吓到瘫痪的程度;就要吓到一动也不动地搁在这似乎在缩小并移动着的山头上。 杰克再次从他身旁溜开了,什么东西被罗杰撞了一下,发出嘘嘘的呼吸声,又摸索着朝前走。拉尔夫听到他们悄悄地说着话。 “你看见了什么啦?” “瞧——”在离他们只有三四码的地方,在不该有岩石的地方冒出一堆岩石样的东西。 拉尔夫听到从什么地方传来细小的窃窃私语声——好象是从他嘴巴里出来的。 他鼓足勇气,将恐惧和厌恶置之度外,站了起来,拖着铅样重的腿往前迈了两步。 一弯新月在他们背后,高高地升在海平线上面。在他们面前,一只大猿似的东西正坐在那儿打盹儿,头被埋在双膝之中。 接着林中充满呼啸的风声,沉沉的夜色中一片混乱,那东西抬起了脑袋,一张破烂不堪的怪脸直挺挺地盯着他们。 拉尔夫大踏步地穿过灰烬,他听到别人大声喊叫、连蹦带跳,他鼓足勇气走在非常困难的黑的山坡上。 很快地,他们就离开了这座山,三条木棒和那弓着身子的怪物被他们丢弃在山头上。 Chapter 8 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.   "I went on too," said Ralph, "then I ran away. So did you."   "Call me a coward then."   Jack turned to the hunters.   "He's not a hunter. He'd never have got us meat. He isn't a prefect and we don't know anything about him. He just gives orders and expects people to obey for nothing. All this talk--"   "All this talk!" shouted Ralph. "Talk, talk! Who wanted it? Who called the meeting?"   Jack turned, red in the face, his chin sunk back. He glowered up under his eyebrows.   "All right then," he said in tones of deep meaning, and menace, "all right."   He held the conch against his chest with one hand and stabbed the air with his index finger.   "Who thinks Ralph oughtn't to be chief?"   He looked expectantly at the boys ranged round, who had frozen. Under the palms there was deadly silence.   "Hands up," said Jack strongly, "whoever wants Ralph not to be chief?"   The silence continued, breathless and heavy and full of shame. Slowly the red drained from Jack's cheeks, then came back with a painful rush. He licked his lips and turned his head at an angle, so that his gaze avoided the embarrassment of linking with another's eye.   "How many think--"   His voice tailed off. The hands that held the conch shook. He cleared his throat, and spoke loudly.   "All right then."   He laid the conch with great care in the grass at his feet. The humiliating tears were running from the corner of each eye.   "I'm not going to play any longer. Not with you."   Most of the boys were looking down now, at the grass or their feet. Jack cleared his throat again.   "I'm not going to be a part of Ralph's lot--"   He looked along the right-hand logs, numbering the hunters that had been a choir.   "I'm going off by myself. He can catch his own pigs. Anyone who wants to hunt when I do can come too."   He blundered out of the triangle toward the drop to the white sand.   "Jack!"   Jack turned and looked back at Ralph. For a moment he paused and then cried out, high-pitched, enraged.   "--No!"   He leapt down from the platform and ran along the beach, paying no heed to the steady fall of his tears; and until he dived into the forest Ralph watched him.      Piggy was indignant.   "I been talking, Ralph, and you just stood there like--"   Softly, looking at Piggy and not seeing him, Ralph spoke to himself.   "He'll come back. When the sun goes down he'll come." He looked at the conch in Piggy's hand.   "What?"   "Well there!"   Piggy gave up the attempt to rebuke Ralph. He polished his glass again and went back to his subject.   "We can do without Jack Merridew. There's others besides him on this island. But now we really got a beast, though I can't hardly believe it, we'll need to stay close to the platform; there'll be less need of him and his hunting. So now we can really decide on what's what."   "There's no help, Piggy. Nothing to be done."   For a while they sat in depressed silence. Then Simon stood up and took the conch from Piggy, who was so astonished that he remained on his feet. Ralph looked up at Simon.   "Simon? What is it this time?"   A half-sound of jeering ran round the circle and Simon shrank from it.   "I thought there might be something to do. Something we-"   Again the pressure of the assembly took his voice away. He sought for help and sympathy and chose Piggy. He turned half toward him, clutching the conch to his brown chest.   "I think we ought to climb the mountain."   The circle shivered with dread. Simon broke off and turned to Piggy who was looking at him with an expression of derisive incomprehension.   "What's the good of climbing up to this here beast when Ralph and the other two couldn't do nothing?"   Simon whispered his answer.   "What else is there to do?"   His speech made, he allowed Piggy to lift the conch out of his hands. Then he retired and sat as far away from the others as possible.   Piggy was speaking now with more assurance and with what, if the circumstances had not been so serious, the others would have recognized as pleasure.   "I said we could all do without a certain person. Now I say we got to decide on what can be done. And I think I could tell you what Ralph's going to say next. The most important thing on the island is the smoke and you can't have no smoke without a fire."   Ralph made a restless movement.   "No go, Piggy. We've got no fire. That thing sits up there--we'll have to stay here."   Piggy lifted the conch as though to add power to his next words.   "We got no fire on the mountain. But what's wrong with a fire down here? A fire could be built on them rocks. On the sand, even. We'd make smoke just the same."   "That's right!"   "Smoke!"   "By the bathing pool!"   The boys began to babble. Only Piggy could have the intellectual daring to suggest moving the fire from the mountain.   "So we'll have the fire down here," said Ralph. He looked about him. "We can build it just here between the bathing pool and the platform. Of course--"   He broke off, frowning, thinking the thing out, unconsciously tugging at the stub of a nail with his teeth.   "Of course the smoke won't show so much, not be seen so far away. But we needn't go near, near the--"   The others nodded in perfect comprehension. There would be no need to go near.   "We'll build the fire now."   The greatest ideas are the simplest. Now there was something to be done they worked with passion. Piggy was so full of delight and expanding liberty in Jack's departure, so full of pride in his contribution to the good of society, that he helped to fetch wood. The wood he fetched was close at hand, a fallen tree on the platform that they did not need for the assembly, yet to the others the sanctity of the platform had protected even what was useless there. Then the twins realized they would have a fire near them as a comfort in the night and this set a few littluns dancing and clapping hands.   The wood was not so dry as the fuel they had used on the mountain. Much of it was damply rotten and full of insects that scurried; logs had to be lifted from the soil with care or they crumbled into sodden powder. More than this, in order to avoid going deep into the forest the boys worked near at hand on any fallen wood no matter how tangled with new growth. The skirts of the forest and the scar were familiar, near the conch and the shelters and sufficiently friendly in daylight. What they might become in darkness nobody cared to think. They worked therefore with great energy and cheerfulness, though as time crept by there was a suggestion of panic in the energy and hysteria in the cheerfulness. They built a pyramid of leaves and twigs, branches and logs, on the bare sand by the platform. For the first time on the island, Piggy himself removed his one glass, knelt down and focused the sun on tinder. Soon there was a ceiling of smoke and a bush of yellow flame.   The littluns who had seen few fires since the first catastrophe became wildly excited. They danced and sang and there was a partyish air about the gathering.   At last Ralph stopped work and stood up, smudging the sweat from his face with a dirty forearm.   "We'll have to have a small fire. This one's too big to keep up."   Piggy sat down carefully on the sand and began to polish his glass.   "We could experiment. We could find out how to make a small hot fire and then put green branches on to make smoke. Some of them leaves must be better for that than the others."   As the fire died down so did the excitement. The littluns stopped singing and dancing and drifted away toward the sea or the fruit trees or the shelters.   Ralph dropped down in the sand.   "We'll have to make a new list of who's to look after the fire."   "If you can find 'em."   He looked round. Then for the first time he saw how few biguns there were and understood why the work had been so hard.   "Where's Maurice?"   Piggy wiped his glass again.   "I expect . . . no, he wouldn't go into the forest by himself, would he?"   Ralph jumped up, ran swiftly round the fire and stood by Piggy, holding up his hair.   "But we've got to have a list! There's you and me and Samneric and--"   He would not look at Piggy but spoke casually.   "Where's Bill and Roger?"   Piggy leaned forward and put a fragment of wood on the fire.   "I expect they've gone. I expect they won't play either."   Ralph sat down and began to poke little holes in the sand. He was surprised to see that one had a drop of blood by it. He examined his bitten nail closely and watched the little globe of blood that gathered where the quick was gnawed away.   Piggy went on speaking.   "I seen them stealing off when we was gathering wood. They went that way. The same way as he went himself."   Ralph finished his inspection and looked up into the air. The sky, as if in sympathy with the great changes among them, was different today and so misty that in some places the hot air seemed white. The disc of the sun was dull silver as though it were nearer and not so hot, yet the air stifled.   "They always been making trouble, haven't they?"   The voice came near his shoulder and sounded anxious. "We can do without 'em. We'll be happier now, won't we?"   Ralph sat. The twins came, dragging a great log and grinning in their triumph. They dumped the log among the embers so that sparks flew.   "We can do all right on our own, can't we?"   For a long time while the log dried, caught fire and turned red hot, Ralph sat in the sand and said nothing. He did not see Piggy go to the twins and whisper to them, nor how the three boys went together into the forest.   "Here you are."   He came to himself with a jolt. Piggy and the other two were by him. They were laden with fruit.   "I thought perhaps," said Piggy, "we ought to have a feast, kind of."   The three boys sat down. They had a great mass of the fruit with them and all of it properly ripe. They grinned at Ralph as he took some and began to eat.   "Thanks," he said. Then with an accent of pleased surprise--"Thanks!"   "Do all right on our own," said Piggy. "It's them that haven't no common sense that make trouble on this island. We'll make a little hot fire--"   Ralph remembered what had been worrying him.   "Where's Simon?"   "I don't know."   "You don't think he's climbing the mountain?"   Piggy broke into noisy laughter and took more fruit. "He might be." He gulped his mouthful. "He's cracked."      Simon had passed through the area of fruit trees but today the littluns had been too busy with the fire on the beach and they had not pursued him there. He went on among the creepers until he reached the great mat that was woven by the open space and crawled inside. Beyond the screen of leaves the sunlight pelted down and the butterflies danced in the middle their unending dance. He knelt down and the arrow of the sun fell on him. That other time the air had seemed to vibrate with heat; but now it threatened. Soon the sweat was running from his long coarse hair. He shifted restlessly but there was no avoiding the sun. Presently he was thirsty, and then very thirsty. He continued to sit.      Far off along the beach, Jack was standing before a small group of boys. He was looking brilliantly happy.   "Hunting," he said. He sized them up. Each of them wore the remains of a black cap and ages ago they had stood in two demure rows and their voices had been the song of angels.   "We'll hunt. I'm going to be chief."   They nodded, and the crisis passed easily.   "And then--about the beast."   They moved, looked at the forest.   "I say this. We aren't going to bother about the beast."   He nodded at them.   "We're going to forget the beast."   "That's right!"   "Yes!"   "Forget the beast!"   If Jack was astonished by their fervor he did not show it.   "And another thing. We shan't dream so much down here. This is near the end of the island."   They agreed passionately out of the depths of their tormented private lives.   "Now listen. We might go later to the castle rock. But now I'm going to get more of the biguns away from the conch and all that. We'll kill a pig and give a feast." He paused and went on more slowly. "And about the beast. When we kill we'll leave some of the kill for it. Then it won't bother us, maybe."   He stood up abruptly.   "We'll go into the forest now and hunt."   He turned and trotted away and after a moment they followed him obediently.   They spread out, nervously, in the forest. Almost at once Jack found the dung and scattered roots that told of pig and soon the track was fresh. Jack signaled the rest of the hunt to be quiet and went forward by himself. He was happy and wore the damp darkness of the forest like his old clothes. He crept down a slope to rocks and scattered trees by the sea.   The pigs lay, bloated bags of fat, sensuously enjoying the shadows under the trees. There was no wind and they were unsuspicious; and practice had made Jack silent as the shadows. He stole away again and instructed his hidden hunters. Presently they all began to inch forward sweating in the silence and heat. Under the trees an ear flapped idly. A little apart from the rest, sunk in deep maternal bliss, lay the largest sow of the lot. She was black and pink; and the great bladder of her belly was fringed with a row of piglets that slept or burrowed and squeaked.   Fifteen yards from the drove Jack stopped, and his arm, straightening, pointed at the sow. He looked round in inquiry to make sure that everyone understood and the other boys nodded at him. The row of right arms slid back.   "Now!"   The drove of pigs started up; and at a range of only ten yards the wooden spears with fire-hardened points flew toward the chosen pig. One piglet, with a demented shriek, rushed into the sea trailing Roger's spear behind it. The sow gave a gasping squeal and staggered up, with two spears sticking in her fat flank. The boys shouted and rushed forward, the piglets scattered and the sow burst the advancing line and went crashing away through the forest.   "After her!"   They raced along the pig-track, but the forest was too dark and tangled so that Jack, cursing, stopped them and cast among the trees. Then he said nothing for a time but breathed fiercely so that they were awed by him and looked at each other in uneasy admiration. Presently he stabbed down at the ground with his finger.   "There--"   Before the others could examine the drop of blood, Jack had swerved off, judging a trace, touching a bough that gave. So he followed, mysteriously right and assured, and the hunters trod behind him.   He stopped before a covert.   "In there."   They surrounded the covert but the sow got away with the sting of another spear in her flank. The trailing butts hindered her and the sharp, cross-cut points were a torment. She blundered into a tree, forcing a spear still deeper; and after that any of the hunters could follow her easily by the drops of vivid blood. The afternoon wore on, hazy and dreadful with damp heat; the sow staggered her way ahead of them, bleeding and mad, and the hunters followed, wedded to her in lust, excited by the long chase and the dropped blood. They could see her now, nearly got up with her, but she spurted with her last strength and held ahead of them again. They were just behind her when she staggered into an open space where bright flowers grew and butterflies danced round each other and the air was hot and still.   Here, struck down by the heat, the sow fell and the hunters hurled themselves at her. This dreadful eruption from an unknown world made her frantic; she squealed and bucked and the air was full of sweat and noise and blood and terror. Roger ran round the heap, prodding with his spear whenever pigflesh appeared. Jack was on top of the sow, stabbing downward with his knife. Roger found a lodgment for his point and began to push till he was leaning with his whole weight. The spear moved forward inch by inch and the terrified squealing became a highpitched scream. Then Jack found the throat and the hot blood spouted over his hands. The sow collapsed under them and they were heavy and fulfilled upon her. The butterflies still danced, preoccupied in the center of the clearing.   At last the immediacy of the kill subsided. The boys drew back, and Jack stood up, holding out his hands.   "Look."   He giggled and flicked them while the boys laughed at his reeking palms. Then Jack grabbed Maurice and rubbed the stuff over his cheeks. Roger began to withdraw his spear and boys noticed it for the first time. Robert stabilized the thing in a phrase which was received uproariously.   "Right up her ass!"   "Did you hear?"   "Did you hear what he said?"   "Right up her ass!"   This time Robert and Maurice acted the two parts; and Maurice's acting of the pig's efforts to avoid the advancing spear was so funny that the boys cried with laughter.   At length even this palled. Jack began to clean his bloody hands on the rock. Then he started work on the sow and paunched her, lugging out the hot bags of colored guts, pushing them into a pile on the rock while the others watched him. He talked as he worked.   "We'll take the meat along the beach. I'll go back to the platform and invite them to a feast. That should give   us time."   Roger spoke.   "Chief--"   "Uh--?"   "How can we make a fire?"   Jack squatted back and frowned at the pig.   "We'll raid them and take fire. There must be four of you; Henry and you, Robert and Maurice. We'll put on paint and sneak up; Roger can snatch a branch while I say what I want. The rest of you can get this back to where we were. We'll build the fire there. And after that--"   He paused and stood up, looking at the shadows under the trees. His voice was lower when he spoke again.   "But we'll leave part of the kill for . . ."   He knelt down again and was busy with his knife. The boys crowded round him. He spoke over his shoulder to Roger.   "Sharpen a stick at both ends."   Presently he stood up, holding the dripping sow's head in his hands.   "Where's that stick?"   "Here."   "Ram one end in the earth. Oh--it's rock. Jam it in that crack. There."   Jack held up the head and jammed the soft throat down on the pointed end of the stick which pierced through into the mouth. He stood back and the head hung there, a little blood dribbling down the stick.   Instinctively the boys drew back too; and the forest was very still. They listened, and the loudest noise was the buzzing of flies over the spilled guts.   Jack spoke in a whisper.   "Pick up the pig."   Maurice and Robert skewered the carcass, lifted the dead weight, and stood ready. In the silence, and standing over the dry blood, they looked suddenly furtive.   Jack spoke loudly.   "This head is for the beast. It's a gift."   The silence accepted the gift and awed them. The head remained there, dim-eyed, grinning faintly, blood blackening between the teeth. All at once they were running away, as fast as they could, through the forest toward the open beach.      Simon stayed where he was, a small brown image, concealed by the leaves. Even if he shut his eyes the sow's head still remained like an after-image. The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life. They assured Simon that everything was a bad business.   "I know that."   Simon discovered that he had spoken aloud. He opened his eyes quickly and there was the head grinning amusedly in the strange daylight, ignoring the flies, the spilled guts, even ignoring the indignity of being spiked on a stick.   He looked away, licking his dry lips.   A gift for the beast. Might not the beast come for it? The head, he thought, appeared to agree with him. Run away, said the head silently, go back to the others. It was a joke really--why should you bother? You were just wrong, that's all. A little headache, something you ate, perhaps. Go back, child, said the head silently.   Simon looked up, feeling the weight of his wet hair, and gazed at the sky. Up there, for once, were clouds, great bulging towers that sprouted away over the island, grey and cream and copper-colored. The clouds were sitting on the land; they squeezed, produced moment by moment this close, tormenting heat. Even the butterflies deserted the open space where the obscene thing grinned and dripped. Simon lowered his head, carefully keeping his eyes shut, then sheltered them with his hand. There were no shadows under the trees but everywhere a pearly stillness, so that what was real seemed illusive and without definition. The pile of guts was a black blob of flies that buzzed like a saw. After a while these flies found Simon. Gorged, they alighted by his runnels of sweat and drank. They tickled under his nostrils and played leapfrog on his thighs. They were black and iridescent green and without number; and in front of Simon, the Lord of the Flies hung on his stick and grinned. At last Simon gave up and looked back; saw the white teeth and dim eyes, the blood--and his gaze was held by that ancient, inescapable recognition. In Simon's right temple, a pulse began to beat on the brain.      Ralph and Piggy lay in the sand, gazing at the fire and idly flicking pebbles into its smokeless heart.   "That branch is gone."   "Where's Samneric?"   "We ought to get some more wood. We're out of green branches."   Ralph sighed and stood up. There were no shadows under the palms on the platform; only this strange light that seemed to come from everywhere at once. High up among the bulging clouds thunder went off like a gun.   "We're going to get buckets of rain."   "What about the fire?"   Ralph trotted into the forest and returned with a wide spray of green which he dumped on the fire. The branch crackled, the leaves curled and the yellow smoke expanded.   Piggy made an aimless little pattern in the sand with his fingers.   "Trouble is, we haven't got enough people for a fire. You got to treat Samnenc as one turn. They do everything together--"   "Of course."   "Well, that isn't fair. Don't you see? They ought to do two turns."   Ralph considered this and understood. He was vexed to find how little he thought like a grownup and sighed again. The island was getting worse and worse.   Piggy looked at the fire.   "You'll want another green branch soon."   Ralph rolled over.   "Piggy. What are we going to do?"   "Just have to get on without 'em."   "But--the fire."   He frowned at the black and white mess in which lay the unburnt ends of branches. He tried to formulate.   "I'm scared."   He saw Piggy look up; and blundered on.   "Not of the beast. I mean I'm scared of that too. But nobody else understands about the fire. If someone threw you a rope when you were drowning. If a doctor said take this because if you don't take it you'll die--you would, wouldn't you? I mean?"   "'Course I would."   "Can't they see? Can't they understand? Without the smoke signal we'll die here? Look at that!"   A wave of heated air trembled above the ashes but without a trace of smoke.   "We can't keep one fire going. And they don't care. And what's more--" He looked intensely into Piggy's streaming face.   "What's more, _I_ don't sometimes. Supposing I got like the others--not caring. What 'ud become of us?"   Piggy took off his glasses, deeply troubled.   "I dunno, Ralph. We just got to go on, that's all. That's what grownups would do."   Ralph, having begun the business of unburdening himself, continued.   "Piggy, what's wrong?"   Piggy looked at him in astonishment.   "Do you mean the--?"   "No, not it . . . I mean . . . what makes things break up like they do?"   Piggy rubbed his glasses slowly and thought. When he understood how far Ralph had gone toward accepting him he flushed pinkly with pride.   "I dunno, Ralph. I expect it's him."   "Jack?"   "Jack." A taboo was evolving round that word too.   Ralph nodded solemnly.   "Yes," he said, "I suppose it must be."   The forest near them burst into uproar. Demoniac figures with faces of white and red and green rushed out howling, so that the littluns fled screaming. Out of the corner of his eye, Ralph saw Piggy running. Two figures rushed at the fire and he prepared to defend himself but they grabbed half-burnt branches and raced away along the beach. The three others stood still, watching Ralph; and he saw that the tallest of them, stark naked save for paint and a belt, was Jack.   Ralph had his breath back and spoke.   "Well?"   Jack ignored him, lifted his spear and began to shout.   "Listen all of you. Me and my hunters, we're living along the beach by a flat rock. We hunt and feast and have fun. If you want to join my tribe come and see us. Perhaps I'll let you join. Perhaps not."   He paused and looked round. He was safe from shame or self-consciousness behind the mask of his paint and could look at each of them in turn. Ralph was kneeling by the remains of the fire like a sprinter at his mark and his face was half-hidden by hair and smut. Samneric peered together round a palm tree at the edge of the forest. A littlun howled, creased and crimson, by the bathing pool and Piggy stood on the platform, the white conch gripped in his hands.   "Tonight we're having a feast. We've killed a pig and we've got meat. You can come and eat with us if you like."   Up in the cloud canyons the thunder boomed again. Jack and the two anonymous savages with him swayed, looking up, and then recovered. The littlun went on howling. Jack was waiting for something. He whispered urgently to the others.   "Go on--now!"   The two savages murmured. Jack spoke sharply.   "Go on!"   The two savages looked at each other, raised their spears together and spoke in time.   "The Chief has spoken."   Then the three of them turned and trotted away. Presently Ralph rose to his feet, looking at the place where the savages had vanished. Samneric came, talking in an awed whisper.   "I thought it was--"   "--and I was--"   "--scared."   Piggy stood above them on the platform, still holding the conch.   "That was Jack and Maurice and Robert," said Ralph. "Aren't they having fun?"   "I thought I was going to have asthma."   "Sucks to your ass-mar."   "When I saw Jack I was sure he'd go for the conch. Can't think why."   The group of boys looked at the white shell with affectionate respect. Piggy placed it in Ralph's hand and the littluns, seeing the familiar symbol, started to come back.   "Not here."   He turned toward the platform, feeling the need for ritual. First went Ralph, the white conch cradled, then Piggy very grave, then the twins, then the littluns and the others.   "Sit down all of you. They raided us for fire. They're having fun. But the--"   Ralph was puzzled by the shutter that flickered in his brain. There was something he wanted to say; then the shutter had come down.   "But the--"   They were regarding him gravely, not yet troubled by any doubts about his sufficiency. Ralph pushed the idiot hair out of his eyes and looked at Piggy.   "But the . . . oh . . . the fire! Of course, the fire!"   He started to laugh, then stopped and became fluent instead.   "The fire's the most important thing. Without the fire we can't be rescued. I'd like to put on war-paint and be a savage. But we must keep the fire burning. The fire's the most important thing on the island, because, because--"   He paused again and the silence became full of doubt and wonder.   Piggy whispered urgently. "Rescue."   "Oh yes. Without the fire we can't be rescued. So we must stay by the fire and make smoke."   When he stopped no one said anything. After the many brilliant speeches that had been made on this very spot Ralph's remarks seemed lame, even to the littluns.   At last Bill held out his hands for the conch.   "Now we can't have the fire up there--because we can't have the fire up there--we need more people to keep it going. Let's go to this feast and tell them the fire's hard on the rest of us. And the hunting and all that, being savages I mean--it must be jolly good fun."   Samneric took the conch.   "That must be fun like Bill says--and as he's invited us--"   "--to a feast--"   "--meat--"   "--crackling--"   "--I could do with some meat--"   Ralph held up his hand.   "Why shouldn't we get our own meat?"   The twins looked at each other. Bill answered.   "We don't want to go in the jungle."   Ralph grimaced.   "He--you know--goes."   "He's a hunter. They're all hunters. That's different."   No one spoke for a moment, then Piggy muttered to the sand.   "Meat--"   The littluns sat, solemnly thinking of meat, and dribbling. Overhead the cannon boomed again and the dry palm fronds clattered in a sudden gust of hot wind.      "You are a silly little boy," said the Lord of the Flies, "just an ignorant, silly little boy."   Simon moved his swollen tongue but said nothing.   "Don't you agree?" said the Lord of the Flies. "Aren't you just a silly little boy?"   Simon answered him in the same silent voice.   "Well then," said the Lord of the Flies, "you'd better run off and play with the others. They think you're batty. You don't want Ralph to think you're batty, do you? You like Ralph a lot, don't you? And Piggy, and Jack?"   Simon's head was tilted slightly up. His eyes could not break away and the Lord of the Flies hung in space before him.   "What are you doing out here all alone? Aren't you afraid of me?"   Simon shook.   "There isn't anyone to help you. Only me. And I'm the Beast."   Simon's mouth labored, brought forth audible words.   "Pig's head on a stick."   "Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!" said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. "You knew, didn't you? I'm part of you? Close, close, close! I'm the reason why it's no go? Why things are what they are?"   The laughter shivered again.   "Come now," said the Lord of the Flies. "Get back to the others and we'll forget the whole thing."   Simon's head wobbled. His eyes were half closed as though he were imitating the obscene thing on the stick. He knew that one of his times was coming on. The Lord of the Flies was expanding like a balloon.   "This is ridiculous. You know perfectly well you'll only meet me down there--so don't try to escape!"   Simon's body was arched and stiff. The Lord of the Flies spoke in the voice of a schoolmaster.   "This has gone quite far enough. My poor, misguided child, do you think you know better than I do?"   There was a pause.   "I'm warning you. I'm going to get angry. D'you see? You're not wanted. Understand? We are going to have fun on this island. Understand? We are going to have fun on this island! So don't try it on, my poor misguided boy, or else--"   Simon found he was looking into a vast mouth. There was blackness within, a blackness that spread.   "--Or else," said the Lord of the Flies, "we shall do you? See? Jack and Roger and Maurice and Robert and Bill and Piggy and Ralph. Do you. See?"   Simon was inside the mouth. He fell down and lost consciousness. 第八章 献给黑夜的祭品 曙光初照的灰白的海滩上,猪崽子沮丧地抬头眺望黑的山岭。 “你有把握吗?我是说,真的吃准了?” “我已经告诉过你几十遍了,”拉尔夫说,“我们是亲眼目睹的。” “在下面这儿你认为咱们安全不?” “他妈的我怎么会知道呢?”拉尔夫从他身边躲闪开,沿海滩走了几步。 杰克跪在地上,在沙子里用食指画着圆圈。猪崽子压低了的话音传到了他们耳中。 “你有把握吗?真的吗?” “爬上去自个儿瞧吧,”杰克鄙视地说道,“好透口气安安心。” “别害怕。” “那野兽长着牙齿,”拉尔夫说,“还长着一双黑洞洞的大眼睛。”他浑身上下不停地打颤。 猪崽子取下他的那块圆镜片,将那镜片左擦右擦。“咱们准备怎么办呢?” 拉尔夫转身走向平台。在树林中海螺闪着微光,衬着朝阳即将升起的方向看上去白花花的一团。乱蓬蓬的头发被他往后一捋。 “我不晓得。”霎时他想起惊惶失措地飞逃下山侧的那一幕。“说实在的,我认为咱们不可能跟那么大的一个东西干一仗的。咱们没准儿会说说,但不会真跟老虎去较量。咱们会躲起来,连杰克都会躲起来。” 杰克呆呆看着地上的沙子。“我的猎手们怎么样?” 从窝棚边的阴影里西蒙悄悄地走了出来。 对杰克提出的问题拉尔夫采取置之不理的态度。他指着海上方一抹黄色的曙光。 “只要有光咱们就会有勇气的。可随后呢?那东西眼下正蹲坐在火堆旁,好象存心不让咱们得救——”他无意识地紧扣着双手,声调也高了起来。 “这下咱们不可能生起信号火堆……咱们被打败了。”微微的金光在海的上方又出现了,顷刻间整个天空亮堂起来。 “我的猎手们怎么样?” “那是些拿木棒作武器的孩子们。” 杰克涨红着脸站起来,大步走开了。 猪崽子戴上那片眼镜,看着拉尔夫。“这下你可搞糟了。你对他的猎手们太不客气了。” “哼,住口!”他们的争论被一阵吹得不熟练的海螺声打断了。 杰克象是在不停地朝着初升的旭日奏着小夜曲,窝棚里骚动起来,猎手们爬到平台上来,小家伙们啜泣着,正如近来他们常抽抽噎噎地那样哭。 拉尔夫也顺从地站起来,跟猪崽子他们一起到了平台上。 “扯淡,”拉尔夫狠狠地说,“扯呀,扯呀,尽扯。” 海螺被拉尔夫从杰克那里拿过来。“这次会——” 杰克将拉尔夫的话头打断。“这次会是我召开的。” “你不召集我也一样会开的,你只是吹吹海螺罢了。” “那不好吗?” “哼,拿着,说下去——说吧!”海螺被拉尔夫一把塞到杰克的手臂里,接着一屁股坐到树干上。 “我召开这次大会,”杰克说道,“因为有好多事情要说。第一桩——你们现在清楚,我们已经亲眼目睹了野兽。我们爬了上去,野兽坐起来离我们只有几码,直瞪着我们。我不知道它在干啥,我们连那东西是什么也不知道——” “那野兽是从海里出来的——” “从黑暗中出来——” “从树林里——” “安静!”杰克叫喊道,“大家都听着。野兽正直挺挺地坐在那儿,管它是什么——” “也许它正等着——” “打猎——” “对呀,打猎。” “打猎,”杰克说。 杰克在森林里老早感到惶惶不安的感觉又被他想起来了。“没错。那野兽是个打猎的。不过——住口!第二桩是它不可能被我们杀掉。再一桩是拉尔夫说我的猎手们都不顶事儿。” “我从没说过!” “我拿着海螺。拉尔夫认为你们是胆小鬼,见到野公猪和野兽就怆惶而逃。这还没完。” 一种叹息声由平台上传来,就象每个人都知道什么要来临了。 杰克继续话音颤抖却很决然地说着,奋力反抗那体现着不合作的沉默。 “拉尔夫就象猪崽子,就连他说话都象猪崽子,他不配做头头。”杰克将海螺握紧靠在他的胸前。“他自己是个孬种。”杰克停了停又说:“在山顶上。罗杰和我朝前的时候——他在后面。” “我也上了!” “那是后来。”两个蓬头散发的男孩,虎视眈眈。 “我也上去了,”拉尔夫说,“后来我跑了,你也跑了。” “你还叫我胆小鬼。”杰克转向猎手们。“拉尔夫从没给我们弄过肉,因此他不是个猎手。他不是班长,我们对他缺乏了解。拉尔夫只会发布指令,指望别人任他摆布。这一切扯淡——” “这一切都是扯淡!”拉尔夫喊道。“扯淡,扯淡!谁要扯淡?谁召集这次会的?” 杰克转过身去,脸色通红,收紧了下巴。 他向上横眉竖眼地怒视着。“那好吧,”他以一种意味深长,极具威胁的语气说道。“那好。”杰克以一手握着海螺并将它靠在胸前,以另一手的食指戳向空中。“谁认为拉尔夫不该当头头?” 他期待地注视着周围的孩子们,而后者却冻僵了似的一动也不动。 棕榈树下死一般的沉寂。 “举手表决,”杰克兴奋地说,“谁不要拉尔夫当头头?” 仍然是一片沉默,毫无声息,气氛阴沉,充满了羞愧感。 杰克双颊上的红色渐渐地褪了下去,接着又涌上来一种痛苦的表情。 他舔舔嘴唇,头被他偏向一边,免得自己的目光同另一个人的眼光相遇而弄得很尴尬。 “多少人认为——”他的话音越来越低。 拿着海螺的双手不住地发抖。 他清清嗓子,大声地说了一句。“那好吧。”海螺被杰克很小心地放到脚下的草中。 顷刻间遭受屈辱的泪水从眼角里不由自主地滚出来。“我不玩了。不再跟你们玩了。” 大多数孩子这时低头看着草地或自己的脚。 杰克又清了清喉咙。“我不想跟拉尔夫同命运——”杰克沿着右面的圆木看过去,清点着以前是一个合唱队的猎手们。 “我要一个人走开。拉尔夫可以去逮他的野猪。我打猎时随便谁想参加都可以。”杰克踉踉跄跄地冲出了三角地,直奔通向白晃晃沙滩的低凹处。 “杰克!” 杰克转过脑袋朝拉尔夫看了一眼。 他停下了,接着愤怒地尖声大叫道:“——不!”从平台上他往下一跳,也来不及擦去不断往下流淌的泪水,沿着海滩跑了。 拉尔夫一直看着杰克一头跑进森林,不见人影。 猪崽子怒气冲冲。 “拉尔夫,我一直在跟你说话,可你傻站在那儿,就象——” 拉尔夫温柔地看着猪崽子,却熟视无睹,他自言自语地说道:“他直到太阳一落山就会回来。” 拉尔夫注视着猪崽子手中的海螺。 “怎么啦?” “哎呀!”猪崽子用眼镜片来掩盖住那份不想再去责备拉尔夫的心思,再次回到了老话题上。 “没杰克•梅瑞狄咱们也能干。除了他岛上还有别人呢。我真难以相信,咱们居然现在真发现了一头野兽。咱们必须靠近平台呆着,那样就用不到杰克和他那套打猎工具。所以现在倒可以真正决定该怎么办了。” “无计可施。猪崽子。无路可走口罗。”他们有一阵子垂头丧气,一声不吭地坐着。 随后让猪崽子吃一惊的是西蒙从他那里拿走了海螺,他们仍盘腿坐着。拉尔夫抬头看看西蒙。 “西蒙?现在是什么时候了?”又开始发出了嘲笑声在孩子们围成的圈中,西蒙又害怕起来。“我认为说不定有什么事情可做。有些事情咱们——”大会的压力再次剥夺了他发言的勇气。 西蒙寻求着,选中了猪崽子的帮助与同情。 海螺被他紧握在褐色的胸膛上,半侧着身转向猪崽子。 “我认为咱们该爬上山去。”周围的孩子们惊骇得呆若木鸡。 西蒙停止讲话,转向猪崽子,而西蒙此时却被猪崽子以一种毫不理解的讥嘲的表情看着。 “山上呆着野兽,爬上去有什么用?再说拉尔夫加上另外两个也无计可施呢?” 西蒙低声回答道:“那又怎么办呢?” 西蒙停止了发言,他让猪崽子从他手中拿走海螺。然后退了下去,坐得尽可能离别人远点。 现在猪崽子发起言来更加胸有成竹了;要不是形势这么严峻的话,别人本也会看得出他是愉快地在发言。 “我说,少了某一个人咱们也都能干。现在,我认为咱们必须决定做些什么。我还认为我可以告诉你们拉尔夫接下来的打算是什么。岛上最关键的事情是烟,没有火也就无法生烟。” 拉尔夫不安地动了一下。“完了,猪崽子。咱们没火堆了。那个东西坐在那儿——咱们只能待在这儿。” 海螺被猪崽子举起来,这使他更有勇气去讲下面的话。“咱们山上的火堆没有了。可是在下面这儿搞一个火堆又有什么不好呢?既然火堆可以筑在山岩上,那也可以筑在沙滩上。反正都能生烟。” “说得对!” “生烟!” “就在洗澡潭边!”孩子们开始热闹地谈论起来。 只有猪崽子才有智慧和勇力,提出把火堆从山上移到这儿。 “那么咱们要在下面这儿筑个火堆,”拉尔夫说。 他察看着四周。“咱们可以把火堆就筑在这儿,在洗澡潭和平台之间。当然——”他停住讲话,一面皱眉蹙额,一面想把事情搞明白,习惯性地又用牙齿啃起残剩的指甲来了。 “当然烟显示的范围不会很大,也不会让人从老远处就能看见。但是,咱们没必要再靠近,靠近——”其他人心领神会,点着脑袋。 没有必要再靠近。“咱们这就来筑个火堆。”最了不起的思想似乎是最简单的。 现在可有事情做了,他们干劲十足。 由于杰克不在,猪崽子异常兴奋,十分活跃,他为帮着大伙拾柴火而感到自己能为团体利益作出贡献而充满自豪。 猪崽子的木柴是在很近的地方拾来的,那是倒在平台上的一根树干,是他们开大会时用不上的。 然而对其他人来说,平台是神圣的,甚至是无用的东西都不可侵犯。 双胞胎感觉到他们将有一个火堆在近旁,夜里可以当做一种安慰,而几个小家伙因此跳舞、鼓起掌来。 这里的柴火没有他们在山上烧的木柴那样干燥。有许多又湿又烂,爬满了小虫;烂树身被小心地从泥土中弄起来,要不然就会碎裂成湿漉漉的粉末。 更有甚者,为了避免走进森林深处,孩子们就在附近拾柴火,随手拾起那些倒在地上的断枝残干,也顾不了上面是否长着新的藤蔓。 森林边缘和孤岩太令人熟悉了,因为就靠着海螺和窝棚,大白天里流露出友好的气氛。 可在黑暗里它们会变得怎样,这并没有引起大家的关心。 因此他们干得劲头十足,兴致勃勃,尽管随着时间的轻轻逝去,他们的干劲中带着惶恐不安,兴奋中夹着歇斯底里。 在平台旁他们毫无遮蔽的沙滩上筑了个金字塔形的柴火堆,满是树叶,还有大小枝条和断树残躯。 猪崽子自己取下了他那块眼镜片,跪下来通过镜片焦点将光聚到火绒上,这还是他来到岛上第一次这样做。 片刻火堆的上方就形成了一层烟,还是一丛金黄色的火焰。 自从第一次熊熊大火之后,小家伙们很少再看到大火堆,他们欣喜若狂,手舞足蹈,会场中洋溢着济济一堂的欢乐气氛。 拉尔夫最后停了手,他站起来,用肮脏的前臂揩擦脸上的汗水。 “咱们得搞个小火堆。像这样大的没法维持下去。”猪崽子认真地坐到沙滩上,开始擦起眼镜。 “咱们可以试验一下,先搞清怎么才能生一小堆旺火,随后青树枝被放上去弄出许多烟来。 有些叶子一定比别的叶子烧起来烟更多。 ”火堆慢慢熄灭,兴奋的程度也随之下降。小家伙们停止了唱歌跳舞,他们四散开去,有的向大海走去,有的到野果林去,有的到窝棚去了。 拉尔夫猛地坐倒在沙滩上。 “咱们该重新定一份名单,决定每天由谁来管火苗。” “要是你能找得到他们的话。”拉尔夫向四周张望着,这才第一次感觉到大家伙们是这么少,他恍然大悟,活儿很难做,干起来是这么的费劲。 “莫里斯到哪儿去了?” 猪崽子重又擦起他的眼镜来。“我猜想……不,他不会一个人到森林里去的,是不是?” 拉尔夫霍地站起来,很快地绕过火堆,站到猪崽子身边,头发被他往上一田田。 “可咱们最好造一份名单!有你、我、萨姆纳里克和——”他不乐意看着猪崽子,只是随随便便地问道:“比尔和罗杰在哪儿?” 猪崽子朝前倾着身子,一块碎木片被放到火堆上去。“我想他们走开了,他们也不会去玩。” 拉尔夫坐下,用手不住地在沙地上戳着洞洞。 他吃惊地看到一只洞的旁边有一滴血。 他认真地察看着啃咬过的指甲,注视着被咬得露出了活肉的指头上凝聚起来的小血块。 猪崽子不停地说道:“我看见他们在我们拾柴火的时候悄悄地溜了。他们向那边走去了。他自己也是往那边离去的。” 拉尔夫不再看自己的手指,抬头望向空中。 天空似乎也同情孩子们当中所发生的巨大变化,今天比往日模糊极了,有些地方赤热的空气看上去苍茫一片。 圆盘似的太阳呈现出暗淡的银光。太阳似乎近了一点,也没刚才那么热,然而空气却使人闷得发慌。 “他们老是添麻烦,不是吗?”话音从靠近他肩膀的地方传来,听上去很是着急。“咱们没他们照样能干。眼下咱们更快活,是不是?” 拉尔夫坐着。双胞胎拖着一根挺大的圆木走过来,面带着胜利的喜悦。 圆木被他们往余烬上砰地放下,火星溅向四周。“咱们靠自己的力量也能干得挺好,不是吗?” 好长一段时间才把圆木烤干,然后窜起了火,烧得通红,拉尔夫静静地坐在沙地上。 他既没有看见他们三个一块儿走进了森林,也没有看见猪崽子走到双胞胎前低声跟他们俩说着什么。 “瞧,请吧。”拉尔夫突然醒了过来。 猪崽子和另外两个就在他的身旁。他们怀里兜满了野果。 “我认为,”猪崽子说,“也许咱们该大吃一顿。”三个孩子坐了下来。他们吃的野果有很多,全是熟透的。 拉尔夫拿起野果吃起来,他们则对他露齿而笑。 “谢谢,”拉尔夫说。 随后带着一种既让人愉快而又吃惊的语调又说——“多谢!” “咱们自己也能干得很好,”猪崽子说。“是他们连一点常识都没有,经常在岛上弄出麻烦来。咱们可以生一个又小又旺的火堆——” 拉尔夫记起使他无限烦恼的事情。 “西蒙在哪儿?” “我不知道。” “你认为他是不是爬到山上去呢?”猪崽子突然出声地笑起来,又拿起了更多的野果。 “也许他会的。”他嘴里含着野果说道,“他疯了。” 西蒙已经走过了成片的野果树林,可今天小家伙们忙于筑海滩上的火堆,没有时间跟着西蒙一起去。 他在藤蔓中继续朝前走,终于来到了空地旁边那块藤蔓交织成的大“毯子”,爬了进去。 在屏幕般的树叶之外,满地金光,蝴蝶在当中不停地翩翩起舞。 他跪了下来,箭似的阳光射到了他身上。 以前空气似乎在跟暑热一起振动,可眼下空气闷得让人害怕。很快从他长而粗硬的头发上就淌下了一串串汗珠。他焦急地挪动着身子,可就是没办法避开阳光。一会儿他有点渴了,而随后他更感到口干舌燥。 他仍坐着。 在沿海滩远远的地方,杰克正站在一小群孩子前面。看上去他眉飞色舞,愉快万分。 “打猎,”他说。他们被杰克打量了一下。 他们每个人戴着残破的黑帽子,他们很早以前,曾经拘谨地排成两列横队,他们曾经唱过天使的歌。 “咱们要打猎。我来当头头。”他们点着头,关键时刻轻松地过去了。“还有——关于野兽的事。” 他们动了一下,注视着森林。 “我说,咱们不要害怕野兽了。”杰克朝他们点点头。“咱们将要忘掉野兽。” “对呀!” “对!” “把野兽忘掉!”如果说杰克因他们的这股狂劲吓了一跳的话,他并没有流露出来。 “还有件事情。在下面这儿咱们不会再做那么多恶梦了。这儿已靠近了岛的尽头。”由于孩子们在各人的生活中都受到很大的折磨,充满激情地表示同意。“现在听我说。在这个时候咱们可以到城堡岩去。可此刻我要从海螺那儿拉来更多的伙伴,就那样。咱们要宰一头猪,好好美餐一顿。” 他停顿一下,讲得更慢了。“谈到野兽。咱们杀了猪后,该留一部分给它。那么可能它就不会来找咱们的麻烦。” 杰克突然站了起来。“现在咱们就到森林中去打猎。”杰克转身快步跑开,顷刻间,他们都顺从地跟在他后面。 在森林中他们神经紧张地四散开来。 杰克几乎立即发现了地上有被挖掘过的痕迹和杂乱的根茎,这说明有野猪,不久踪迹更清楚了。 杰克向剩下的猎人打了个信号,叫他们安静下来,他一个人往前走着。 杰克很快活,在潮湿而阴暗的森林里他简直如鱼得水,他爬下一道斜坡,爬到了海边的岩石和零落的树林中。 猪群躲在那儿,挺着胀鼓鼓的大肚子愉快地享受着树荫下的凉意。 这会儿没有风,野猪未起疑心,而实践已把杰克培养得象影子那样悄无声息。 他又偷偷地爬开去指导隐蔽着的猎人。顷刻间,他们全都在寂静和暑热中汗流满面地往前挪动起来。 一只耳朵在树丛下懒洋洋地扇动着。 与猪群稍隔开一点的地方,躺着猪群中最大的一头正沉浸在深厚的天伦之乐中的老母猪。 这是一头黑里带粉红的野猪,鼓起的肚子上挤着一排猪仔:有的在睡觉,有的在往里挤,有的在吱吱地叫。 在离野猪群十五码的地方杰克停住了脚;他瞄准那头老母猪,伸直手臂,探询地往四下里探望,确定一下是否大家都领会了他的意思,其他孩子朝他点着头。 一排右臂向后摆去。 “打!”猪群惊跳起来大约与他们只相距十码,矛尖用火烧硬过的木头长矛朝选定的老母猪飞去。 一个猪仔兴奋的尖叫一声,罗杰的长矛被它拖着冲进海里。 老母猪喘着粗气,一声尖叫,摇摇晃晃地爬将起来,两根长矛扎进了肥胖的侧面。 孩子们叫喊着冲了上去,猪仔四散逃命,老母猪快速地冲破排列成行向它逼近的孩子们,哗啦啦地钻进森林跑了。 “追上它!”他们沿着野猪的通道直追,但是森林中太黑暗,缠绕在一起的藤蔓铺满大地。 于是杰克咒骂着让他们停下,在树丛中东寻西觅。 随后他安静了一阵子,只是大口地喘粗气,大家都对他很敬畏,他们相互对视,带着一种令人惶恐的钦佩。过了一会儿他用手指点着地面。 “瞧——”别人还没来得及仔细察看血滴,杰克就已经突然转开身子,一边查看着踪迹,一边摸了摸弯下的那根折断了的大树枝。 他就这样跟踪追击,很正确而且颇有把握,显得有点神秘,猎手们在他身后追赶着。 杰克在一簇树丛前停住了。 “在这里面。”树林被他们包围了,虽然老母猪侧面又被扎进了一根长矛,但它还是逃脱了。拖在地上的长矛柄阻止着老母猪逃命,尖深而横切的伤口使它很痛苦。它慌乱地撞到一棵树上,使得一根长矛更深地戳入体内,这以后每一个猎手都可以根据点点的鲜血轻而易举地跟上它了。 烟雾腾腾而令人讨厌的下午时光,正带着潮湿的暑热渐渐地流逝;老母猪流着血,发疯似地在他们前头摇摇摆摆地择路而逃,猎手们紧追不放,贪馋地盯住它,由于长久的追逐和鲜血淋淋而兴奋至极。 这下他们能看到野猪,也许就要追上它了,可野猪拼命一冲,又跑到了他们的前头去。 老母猪摇摇晃晃地逃进了一块林间空地,那儿鲜花盛开,争奇斗艳,蝴蝶双双,翩翩起舞,空气却既闷热又呆滞,这时候他们正赶到野猪的后面。 到了这儿,在热得逼人的暑热之下,老母猪晕倒了下去,猎手们蜂拥而上。 这种来自陌生世界的可怕突然爆发使老母猪发了狂,它吱喳尖叫,猛跳起来,空气中充满了汗水、噪声、鲜血和恐怖。 罗杰绕着人堆跑动,哪里有野猪出来就拿长矛往哪里猛刺。 杰克骑在猪背上,用刀子往下猛捅。 猪身上有块地方空着被罗杰发现了,他用长矛猛戳,并用力地往里推,将自己的长矛慢慢地往里扎,野猪恐怖的尖叫变成了尖锐的哀鸣。  接着杰克找到了猪的喉咙,一刀下去,热血喷到了他的手上。 在孩子们的猛烈攻击之下老母猪垮掉了,野猪身上叠满猎手。 林中空地上的蝴蝶仍然在翩翩飞舞,它们并没有分心。 迅速的屠杀行动平息了下去。孩子们退了回去,杰克站起来,伸出双手。 “瞧吧。”杰克哈哈地笑着伸手扑向孩子们,而他们也嘻嘻地笑着避开他那还在冒血腥气的手掌。 随后莫里斯被杰克一把揪住;他的脸颊擦上了污血。 罗杰开始拔出自己的长矛,孩子们这才第一次注意到罗杰的长矛。罗伯特提出把野猪固定起来,大伙儿争吵着表示赞同。 “把那个大笨猪竖起来!” “你们听见没有?” “他的话你们听到了吗?” “竖起那个大笨猪!”这一次罗伯特和莫里斯扮演了这两个角色;莫里斯装作野猪竭力想逃避罗伯特逼近的长矛,做些滑稽的动作,逗得孩子们都大笑大嚷。 孩子们终于对这个也腻了。杰克沾血的双手被他往岩石上擦擦。 然后杰克开始宰割这头猪,他剖膛开胸,热气腾腾五颜六色的内脏被掏了出来,在岩石上把猪内脏堆成一堆,其他人都看着他。 杰克边干边说道:“咱们把肉带到海滩去。我回到平台去请他们都来吃。那得浪费多少时间。” 罗杰说话了。“头领——” “呃——?” “咱们怎么生火呢?”杰克皱起眉头朝后一蹲,看着野猪。 “咱们去偷袭他们,把火种取来。你们四个人都要去;亨利和你,比尔和莫里斯。咱们都涂成花脸,偷偷地跑去。当我说要什么时,罗杰就抢走一根燃着的树枝,剩下的人把猪抬回到咱们原来的地方。在那儿咱们筑一个火堆。随后——” 他停住不说话,站了起来,注视着树下的阴影。杰克再开口时声音变得小了一些。 “但是这死猪的一部分咱们要留给……”他再次跪了下来,快速地拿起刀子。 孩子们挤在他的周围。 他侧首越过自己的肩膀对罗杰说:“弄一根把两头削尖的木棒。” 过了不久杰克就站了起来,两手拿着血淋淋的猪头。 “木棒在哪儿?” “在这儿。” “把一头插进地里。哦——这是岩石。把它插到岩缝里。那儿。” 杰克将猪头举起来,木棒的尖端被插进了柔软的喉咙,从死猪的喉咙直到它的嘴里被尖端捅穿。他往后靠一靠,猪头挂在那儿,沿着木棒淌下涓涓的血水。 孩子们本能地向后退去,此刻森林一片静谧。苍蝇的嗡嗡声此时成了他们所能听见的最响的噪音,它们围着掏出在外的内脏直转。 杰克低声说道:“把猪抬起来。”猪身上戳上了莫里斯和罗伯特的尖木棒,抬起死猪,站在那儿,做好了准备。 在寂静之中,他们站在干涸的血迹之上,一眼看上去显得有点鬼鬼祟祟。 杰克大声说道:“这个猪头要做为供品献给野兽。”此刻使他们感到敬畏的是寂静接受了这份供品。 猪头还留在那儿,眼睛是昏暗的,嘴巴微微地咧着,黑污的血迹充满牙缝。他们立刻拔腿而逃,全都尽快地穿过森林逃向开阔的海滩。 西蒙仍待在老地方的叶丛边,藏在那里形成一个小小的人形。即使他闭上眼睛,猪头的形象仍留在脑际中。 老母猪微睁的、昏暗的眼睛带着对成年人生活的无限讥讽。这双眼睛是在向西蒙诉说,一切事情都糟透了。 “这我知道。”西蒙发现自己是在大声地说话。 他立刻睁开眼睛,在别扭的日光中,猪头象被逗乐似的咧着嘴巴,它无视苍蝇成群、内脏散乱,甚至无视被钉在木棒之上的耻辱。 西蒙把脸转开,舔着干裂的双唇。这是献给野兽的供品,可能来接受的不是野兽吧?西蒙觉得猪头也显出同意他的样子。 猪头无声地说道,快跑开,快回到其余的人那儿去。 真是个笑话——要你操什么心呢?你错了,就那么回事。有点儿头痛吧,可能是因为你吃了什么东西。回去吧,孩子,猪头无声地说着。 西蒙仰头,注视着天空,感到了湿头发的重量。云朵在高高的天空,巨大而鼓胀的塔楼形状的云块在上空迅速地变化着,灰色的、米色的、黄铜色的。云层在陆地的上方,不时地散发出闷热的、折磨人的暑热。 甚至连蝴蝶也逃离此地,空留着那面目可憎的东西,龇牙咧嘴,淌着鲜血。 西蒙垂下脑袋,小心地闭着双眼,又用手护住眼睛。 树底下没有阴影,到处是珍珠似的,一片静谧,因而真切的东西倒似乎虚无缥缈起来,变得缺乏明确的界限。 一大群苍蝇围着一堆猪内脏而形成一块黑团,发出锯子锯木头那样的声音。 不一会儿这些苍蝇发现了西蒙。它们已经吃饱了,这时候停在他身上一道道汗水上喝起来。 西蒙的鼻孔被弄得痒痒的,在他的大腿上这儿叮两下,那儿叮两下。 这些苍蝇不计其数,黑乎乎的,闪闪发绿;在西蒙的面前,挂在木棒上的苍蝇之王露齿而笑。 西蒙终于屈服了,他掉过头去:看到了猪牙白晃晃,眼睛昏暗,一滩鲜血——古老的、令人无法逃避的招呼将西蒙吸引住了。西蒙的右太阳穴里,在他脑子里一条动脉怦怦地搏动。 拉尔夫和猪崽子,一面注视着火堆,一面懒洋洋地躺在沙滩上,朝无烟的火堆中心轻投着小卵石。 “那根树枝烧光了。” “萨姆纳里克去哪儿了?” “咱们必须再去拿点柴火来。青树枝已经烧完了。” 拉尔夫叹口气,站了起来。平台的棕榈树下没有阴影,只有这种似乎同时来自四面八方的怪异的光线。高空云层在膨胀,在里面象开炮似的打着响雷。 “就要下倾盆大雨了。” “火堆怎么样呢?”拉尔夫匆匆走进森林,带回来一大抱青树枝,全部都倾倒在火堆上。 树枝噼啪作响,树叶蜷曲起来,黄烟向四周扩展。在沙滩上猪崽子用手指随便地画着小小的图案。 “真伤脑筋,咱们没足够的人手来生火堆。你应该把萨姆纳里克当做一个轮次。他们任何事情都一块儿做——” “当然。” “嘿,那可不公平。你难道看不出?他们应该算两个轮次。” 拉尔夫想了想明白了其中的意思。他很恼火,发现自己思考问题是那么不象个大人,又叹了口气。 岛上的情况正变得越来越糟。 猪崽子看着火堆。 “不久又得要加一根青树枝。”拉尔夫翻了个身。“猪崽子。咱们该做些什么?” “没他们咱们也肯定得干下去。” “但是——火堆。”他皱眉看着其中搁着没烧光的树枝梢头的黑白相间的一团余烬。 拉尔夫试着把自己的一套想法讲出来。“我害怕。”拉尔夫看到昂起头的猪崽子,急急忙忙地说下去。“不仅是指野兽,野兽我也怕的。但他们全都没有将火堆的事重视起来。如果你快淹死了,有人扔给你一条绳子,你肯定会抓住不放的。要是医生说,把药吃下去,要不你就会死,你肯定会赶紧吃的——你一定会的,对不对,我这样想?” “我当然会的。” “难道他们就看不出?难道他们就不清楚,没有烟作信号咱们就会死在这儿?瞧那个!”余烬上一股热气流颤动着,却一点烟也没有。 “咱们一堆火都不能生起来。而他们又不在乎。尤其是——”拉尔夫盯着猪崽子淌汗的脸。“特别是,有时候我也不在乎。如果我也变得象别人那样——满不在乎。咱们会变成什么样子呢?” 猪崽子取下眼镜,心烦意乱。“我不明白,拉尔夫。不过咱们应该干下去,就那么回事。大人也会这么干的。” 拉尔夫已经开始推卸责任,他不住地说道:“猪崽子,哪里出了问题?”猪崽子吃惊地注视着他。“你是指——?” “不,不是指野兽……我是指……事情是被什么搞得四分五裂,就象他们干的那样?”猪崽子缓慢地擦着眼镜,动着脑筋。他清楚拉尔夫已经在相当的程度上把他当做一个知心朋友,不由得脸上泛出了骄傲的红晕。 “我不知道,拉尔夫。我猜是他。” “杰克?” “杰克。”好像是怕犯忌讳的讲出那个字眼。拉尔夫严肃地点点头。 “对,”他说,“我猜肯定是这么回事。”一阵喧闹声在他们附近的森林中爆发。 脸上涂得白一道、红一道、绿一道的恶魔似的人影号叫着冲了出来,小家伙们被吓得东逃西窜。 拉尔夫用余光看到猪崽子正在奔逃。两个人影冲到了火堆边,拉尔夫正准备进行自卫,可他们抢了半燃的树枝就沿着海滩一溜烟逃走了。  其余三个仍然注视着拉尔夫,站着;拉尔夫看出其中那个最高的就是杰克,他身上仅有涂料和皮带,其它的什么也没有。 拉尔夫倒吸了一口气说:“怎么?” 杰克不理睬拉尔夫,举起长矛开始喊道:“你们全都听着。我和我的猎手们都住在海滩边上一块平坦的岩石旁。我们打猎、吃喝、玩乐。倘若你们要想加入我们一伙,那就来看看吧。我可能会让你们参加,也可能不会。” 他停下来向四周环视。 因为脸上涂得五颜六色,杰克从羞耻感和自我意识中挣脱出来,他们被他依次看过去。 拉尔夫跪在火堆的余烬边,就象个短跑选手在起跑线上,头发和污迹遮住了他的半张脸。 萨姆纳里克围着森林边一棵棕榈树张看着。 在洗澡潭旁一个小家伙皱着绯红的面孔在嚎哭,猪崽子站在平台上,白色的海螺紧握在他双手里。 “今晚我们要大吃一顿。我们宰了一头猪,可以美餐一顿了。如果愿意就来跟我们一起吃吧。”隆隆的雷声在那高高的云层的罅隙间响起了。杰克及跟他同来的两个不知名的野蛮人晃动着身子,仰望天空,接着又恢复了原样。小家伙仍旧在嚎哭。杰克正等待着什么似的,他催促地朝那两个人低声说道:“说下去——快说!” 两个野蛮人嗫嚅着。 杰克厉声喝道:“说吧!”两个野蛮人面面相觑,一起举起长矛,同声说道:“头领已经说了。”紧接着他们三个转过身去,快步走了。 过了一会儿,拉尔夫站起来凝视着野蛮人消逝了的那块地方。 萨姆纳里克走了回来,伴着害怕的口气低声说:“我认为那是——” “——我可——” “——害怕了。”猪崽子站在高高的平台上,仍然拿着海螺。 “那是杰克,莫里斯和罗伯特,”拉尔夫说道。“他们不是在开玩笑吧?” “我觉得我气喘病要复发了。” “去你的气—喘病。” “我一看到杰克就猜到他要来抢海螺。也不知道是为什么。”白色的贝壳被成群的孩子带着深情的敬意注视着。 猪崽子把海螺放到拉尔夫手中,看到熟识的标志,小家伙们开始走回来。 “不是在这儿。”拉尔夫转身朝平台走去,他感到需要有点仪式。 拉尔夫先走,白色的海螺被他捧在手里,随后是表情严肃的猪崽子,再后是双胞胎,最后面是小家伙和别的孩子。 “你们全都坐下。他们是为了火才偷袭咱们的。他们正在闹着玩儿。但是——” 拉尔夫感到一阵困惑,因为脑子里隐约存在着一道遮拦物似的。 他有一些话要说,随后这道遮拦物落下了。 “但是——”大家庄重地看着他,对他的能力一点儿都没有怀疑过,拉尔夫把挡在眼睛前面的,讨厌的头发撩开去,他看看猪崽子。 “但是……哦……火堆!当然,火堆!”他开始笑了,既而又止住笑,话倒说得流利起来。 “火堆变得越来越重要了。没有火堆咱们就无法得救。我倒愿意涂打仗前将身上涂满颜色,做一个野蛮人。但是,咱们必须让火堆燃着。火堆是岛上最关键的事情,因为,因为——” 他停了一下,孩子们变得充满了疑惑和惊异的沉默着。 猪崽子匆匆地低声说着:“得救。” “哦,对对。如果没有火堆咱们就无法得救。所以咱们得待在火堆旁边把烟生起来。”拉尔夫讲完后,大家都沉默了。 拉尔夫曾经在这个地方做过好多次精彩的演说,而现在他的讲话即使对小家伙们来说,也已经令人厌烦了。 最后海螺被比尔伸手拿走了。 “在那上面现在咱们没法生火了——因为没法在那上面生火——就需要咱们更多的人来维持火堆。让我们跟他们一起吃猪肉吧,告诉他们,靠剩下的几个人来维持火堆是很难的。还有打猎呀,类似的事情——我是说扮成野蛮人——那准是挺好玩的。” 海螺被萨姆纳里克拿着。“那准象比尔说的,挺好玩——而且他已经邀请咱们去——” “——去大吃一顿——” “——野猪肉——” “噼噼啪啪的声音响起来——” “——我想要吃猪肉——”拉尔夫举起手。 “咱们为什么就不能自己去弄肉呢?” 双胞胎互相看着。 比尔答道:“我们不想到丛林里去。” 拉尔夫皱着眉头。“他——你知道——会去的。” “他是个猎手,他们全是猎手。那可不一样。” 一时没有人开口,然后猪崽子对着沙滩咕哝着:“肉——”小家伙们坐着,神情严肃地想着猪肉,让他们感到馋涎欲滴。 此时在他们头上,又响起了放炮似的隆隆雷声,干巴巴的棕榈叶丛被一阵突如其来的热风吹得卡嗒卡嗒地直响。 “你是个傻小子,”蝇王说道,“一个无知的傻小子。” 西蒙动动肿了的舌头,没有说什么。 “你难道不同意?”蝇王说道。“你难道不就是个傻小子吗?” 西蒙照样静默着没有回答它。 “那好,”蝇王又说,“你最好跑开,跟别人去玩。他们认为你疯了。你不想让拉尔夫认为你疯了,难道不是吗?你很喜欢拉尔夫,是吗?还喜欢猪崽子、杰克?” 西蒙微微翘起脑袋。 他的眼睛没法子离开去,蝇王随时都挂在他面前。 “你独自一个人到这儿来干什么?你难道不怕我?” 西蒙战栗着。 “只有我会帮你的忙。而我是野兽。” 西蒙费力地动了动嘴巴,勉强听得出这样的话语。 “猪头在木棒上。” “你们别梦想可以将野兽捕捉和杀死!”猪头说道。 有一阵子,在森林和其他模模糊糊地受到欣赏的地方回响起一阵滑稽的笑声。 “你心中有数,是不是?我就是你的一部分?过来,过来,过来点!事情没有进展是我的责任吗?为什么事情会搞成这副样子呢?” 颤抖的笑声再次响起来。“去吧,”蝇王说。“回到剩下的人那儿去,整个事情都会被我们所忘掉。” 西蒙的脑袋摇晃起来。 他半闭着眼睛,好象是在模仿着木棒上那个卑污的东西。 他清楚自己又头晕眼花了。蝇王象个汽球似的膨胀起来。 “真可笑。你明明知道你到下面那儿去只会碰到我——别再想逃避了!” 西蒙身子僵硬地弓了起来。 蝇王用师长的口气训诫道:“这似乎太过份了。值得我同情、误入歧途的孩子,你认为你比我还高明吗?” 停顿了一会儿。“我在警告你,我可要发火了。你难道不知道?没人需要你。知道吗?我们将要在这个岛上玩乐。懂吗?我们将要在这个岛上寻找快乐!不要再做尝试了,我可怜的、误入歧途的孩子,不然——” 西蒙感到有一张巨大的嘴巴正对着他,里面是漆黑的,这黑暗还在逐渐扩大。 “——不然,”蝇王说道,“我们就会要你的小命。明白吗?杰克、罗杰、莫里斯、罗伯特、比尔、猪崽子,还有拉尔夫他们都要你的命。懂吗?” 在大嘴巴里西蒙一个劲地往下掉,最后失去了知觉。 Chapter 9 A View to a Death   Over the island the build-up of clouds continued. A steady current of heated air rose all day from the mountain and was thrust to ten thousand feet; revolving masses of gas piled up the static until the air was ready to explode. By early evening the sun had gone and a brassy glare had taken the place of clear daylight. Even the air that pushed in from the sea was hot and held no refreshment. Colors drained from water and trees and pink surfaces of rock, and the white and brown clouds brooded. Nothing prospered but the flies who blackened their lord and made the spilt guts look like a heap of glistening coal. Even when the vessel broke in Simon's nose and the blood gushed out they left him alone, preferring the pig's high flavor.   With the running of the blood Simon's fit passed into the weariness of sleep. He lay in the mat of creepers while the evening advanced and the cannon continued to play. At last he woke and saw dimly the dark earth close by his cheek. Still he did not move but lay there, his face sideways on the earth, his eyes looking dully before him. Then he turned over, drew his feet under him and laid hold of the creepers to pull himself up. When the creepers shook the flies exploded from the guts with a vicious note and clamped back on again. Simon got to his feet. The light was unearthly. The Lord of the Flies hung on his stick like a black ball.   Simon spoke aloud to the clearing.   "What else is there to do?"   Nothing replied. Simon turned away from the open space and crawled through the creepers till he was in the dusk of the forest. He walked drearily between the trunks, his face empty of expression, and the blood was dry round his mouth and chin. Only sometimes as he lifted the ropes of creeper aside and chose his direction from the trend of the land, he mouthed words that did not reach the air.   Presently the creepers festooned the trees less frequently and there was a scatter of pearly light from the sky down through the trees. This was the backbone of the island, the slightly higher land that lay beneath the mountain where the forest was no longer deep jungle. Here there were wide spaces interspersed with thickets and huge trees and the trend of the ground led him up as the forest opened. He pushed on, staggering sometimes with his weariness but never stopping. The usual brightness was gone from his eyes and he walked with a sort of glum determination like an old man.   A buffet of wind made him stagger and he saw that he was out in the open, on rock, under a brassy sky. He found his legs were weak and his tongue gave him pain all the time. When the wind reached the mountain-top he could see something happen, a flicker of blue stuff against brown clouds. He pushed himself forward and the wind came again, stronger now, cuffing the forest heads till they ducked and roared. Simon saw a humped thing suddenly sit up on the top and look down at him. He hid his face, and toiled on.   The flies had found the figure too. The life-like movement would scare them off for a moment so that they made a dark cloud round the head. Then as the blue material of the parachute collapsed the corpulent figure would bow forward, sighing, and the flies settle once more.   Simon felt his knees smack the rock. He crawled forward and soon he understood. The tangle of lines showed him the mechanics of this parody; he examined the white nasal bones, the teeth, the colors of corruption. He saw how pitilessly the layers of rubber and canvas held together the poor body that should be rotting away. Then the wind blew again and the figure lifted, bowed, and breathed foully at him. Simon knelt on all fours and was sick till his stomach was empty. Then he took the lines in his hands; he freed them from the rocks and the figure from the wind's indignity.   At last he turned away and looked down at the beaches. The fire by the platform appeared to be out, or at least making no smoke. Further along the beach, beyond the little river and near a great slab of rock, a thin trickle of smoke was climbing into the sky. Simon, forgetful of the flies, shaded his eyes with both hands and peered at the smoke. Even at that distance it was possible to see that most of the boys--perhaps all of the boys-- were there. So they had shifted camp then, away from the beast. As Simon thought this, he turned to the poor broken thing that sat stinking by his side. The beast was harmless and horrible; and the news must reach the others as soon as possible. He started down the mountain and his legs gave beneath him. Even with great care the best he could do was a stagger.      "Bathing," said Ralph, "that's the only thing to do." Piggy was inspecting the looming-sky through his glass. "I don't like them clouds. Remember how it rained just after we landed?"   "Going to rain again."   Ralph dived into the pool. A couple of littluns were playing at the edge, trying to extract comfort from a wetness warmer than blood. Piggy took off his glasses, stepped primly into the water and then put them on again. Ralph came to the surface and squirted a jet of water at him.   "Mind my specs," said Piggy. "If I get water on the glass I got to get out and clean 'em."   Ralph squirted again and missed. He laughed at Piggy, expecting him to retire meekly as usual and in pained silence. Instead, Piggy beat the water with his hands.   "Stop it!" he shouted. "D'you hear?"   Furiously he drove the water into Ralph's face.   "All right, all right," said Ralph. "Keep your hair on."   Piggy stopped beating the water.   "I got a pain in my head. I wish the air was cooler."   "I wish the rain would come."   "I wish we could go home."   Piggy lay back against the sloping sand side of the pool. His stomach protruded and the water dried on it. Ralph squinted up at the sky. One could guess at the movement of the sun by the progress of a light patch among the clouds. He knelt in the water and looked round.   "Where's everybody?"   Piggy sat up.   "P'raps they're lying in the shelter."   "Where's Samneric?"   "And Bill?"   Piggy pointed beyond the platform.   "That's where they've gone. Jack's party."   "Let them go," said Ralph, uneasily, "I don't care."   "Just for some meat--"   "And for hunting," said Ralph, wisely, "and for pretending to be a tribe, and putting on war-paint."   Piggy stirred the sand under water and did not look at Ralph.   "P'raps we ought to go too."   Ralph looked at him quickly and Piggy blushed.   "I mean--to make sure nothing happens."   Ralph squirted water again.     Long before Ralph and Piggy came up with Jack's lot, they could hear the party. There was a stretch of grass in a place where the palms left a wide band of turf between the forest and the shore. Just one step down from the edge of the turf was the white, blown sand of above high water, warm, dry, trodden. Below that again was a rock that stretched away toward the lagoon. Beyond was a short stretch of sand and then the edge of the water. A fire burned on the rock and fat dripped from the roasting pigmeat into the invisible flames. All the boys of the island, except Piggy, Ralph, Simon, and the two tending the pig, were grouped on the turf. They were laughing, singing, lying, squatting, or standing on the grass, holding food in their hands. But to judge by the greasy faces, the meat eating was almost done; and some held coconut shells in their hands and were drinking from them. Before the party had started a great log had been dragged into the center of the lawn and Jack, painted and garlanded, sat there like an idol. There were piles of meat on green leaves near him, and fruit, and coconut shells full of drink.   Piggy and Ralph came to the edge of the grassy platform; and the boys, as they noticed them, fell silent one by one till only the boy next to Jack was talking. Then the silence intruded even there and Jack turned where he sat. For a time he looked at them and the crackle of the fire was the loudest noise over the droning of the reef. Ralph looked away; and Sam, thinking that Ralph had turned to him accusingly, put down his gnawed bone with a nervous giggle. Ralph took an uncertain step, pointed to a palm tree, and whispered something inaudible to Piggy; and they both giggled like Sam. Lifting his feet high out of the sand, Ralph started to stroll past. Piggy tried to whistle.   At this moment the boys who were cooking at the fire suddenly hauled off a great chunk of meat and ran with it toward the grass. They bumped Piggy, who was burnt, and yelled and danced. Immediately, Ralph and the crowd of boys were united and relieved by a storm of laughter. Piggy once more was the center of social derision so that everyone felt cheerful and normal.   Jack stood up and waved his spear.   "Take them some meat."   The boys with the spit gave Ralph and Piggy each a succulent chunk. They took the gift, dribbling. So they stood and ate beneath a sky of thunderous brass that rang with the storm-coming.   Jack waved his spear again.   "Has everybody eaten as much as they want?"   There was still food left, sizzling on the wooden spits, heaped on the green platters. Betrayed by his stomach, Piggy threw a picked bone down on the beach and stooped for more.   Jack spoke again, impatiently.   "Has everybody eaten as much as they want?"   His tone conveyed a warning, given out of the pride of ownership, and the boys ate faster while there was still time. Seeing there was no immediate likelihood of a pause, Jack rose from the log that was his throne and sauntered to the edge of the grass. He looked down from behind his paint at Ralph and Piggy. They moved a little farther off over the sand and Ralph watched the fire as he ate. He noticed, without understanding, how the flames were visible now against the dull light. Evening was come, not with calm beauty but with the threat of violence.   Jack spoke.   "Give me a drink."   Henry brought him a shell and he drank, watching Piggy and Ralph over the jagged rim. Power lay in the brown swell of his forearms: authority sat on his shoulder and chattered in his ear like an ape.   "All sit down."   The boys ranged themselves in rows on the grass before him but Ralph and Piggy stayed a foot lower, standing on the soft sand. Jack ignored them for the moment, turned his mask down to the seated boys and pointed at them with the spear.   "Who's going to join my tribe?"   Ralph made a sudden movement that became a stumble. Some of the boys turned toward him.   "I gave you food," said Jack, "and my hunters will protect you from the beast. Who will join my tribe?"   "I'm chief," said Ralph, "because you chose me. And we were going to keep the fire going. Now you run after food--"   "You ran yourself!" shouted Jack. "Look at that bone in your hands!"   Ralph went crimson.   "I said you were hunters. That was your job."   Jack ignored him again.   "Who'll join my tribe and have fun?"   "I'm chief," said Ralph tremulously. "And what about the fire? And I've got the conch--"   "You haven't got it with you," said Jack, sneering. "You left it behind. See, clever? And the conch doesn't count at this end of the island--"   All at once the thunder struck. Instead of the dull boom there was a point of impact in the explosion.   "The conch counts here too," said Ralph, "and all over the island."   "What are you going to do about it then?"   Ralph examined the ranks of boys. There was no help in them and he looked away, confused and sweating. Piggy whispered.   "The fire--rescue."   "Who'll join my tribe?"   "I will."   "Me."   "I will."   "I'll blow the conch," said Ralph breathlessly, "and call an assembly."   "We shan't hear it."   Piggy touched Ralph's wrist.   "Come away. There's going to be trouble. And we've had our meat."   There was a blink of bright light beyond the forest and the thunder exploded again so that a littlun started to whine. Big drops of rain fell among them making individual sounds when they struck.   "Going to be a storm," said Ralph, "and you'll have rain like when we dropped here. Who's clever now? Where are your shelters? What are you going to do about that?"   The hunters were looking uneasily at the sky, flinching from the stroke of the drops. A wave of restlessness set the boys swaying and moving aimlessly. The flickering light became brighter and the blows of the thunder were only just bearable. The littluns began to run about, screaming.   Jack leapt on to the sand.   "Do our dance! Come on! Dance!"   He ran stumbling through the thick sand to the open space of rock beyond the fire. Between the flashes of lightning the air was dark and terrible; and the boys followed him, clamorously. Roger became the pig, grunting and charging at Jack, who side-stepped. The hunters took their spears, the cooks took spits, and the rest clubs of firewood. A circling movement developed and a chant. While Roger mimed the terror of the pig, the littluns ran and jumped on the outside of the circle. Piggy and Ralph, under the threat of the sky, found themselves eager to take a place in this demented but partly secure society. They were glad to touch the brown backs of the fence that hemmed in the terror and made it governable.   "_Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"   The movement became regular while the chant lost its first superficial excitement and began to beat like a steady pulse. Roger ceased to be a pig and became a hunter, so that the center of the ring yawned emptily. Some of the littluns started a ring on their own; and the complementary circles went round and round as though repetition would achieve safety of itself. There was the throb and stamp of a single organism.   The dark sky was shattered by a blue-white scar. An instant later the noise was on them like the blow of a gigantic whip. The chant rose a tone in agony.   "_Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"   Now out of the terror rose another desire, thick, urgent, blind.   "_Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"   Again the blue-white scar jagged above them and the sulphurous explosion beat down. The littluns screamed and blundered about, fleeing from the edge of the forest, and one of them broke the ring of biguns in his terror.   "Him! Him!"   The circle became a horseshoe. A thing was crawling out of the forest. It came darkly, uncertainly. The shrill screaming that rose before the beast was like a pain. The beast stumbled into the horseshoe.   "_Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"   The blue-white scar was constant, the noise unendurable. Simon was crying out something about a dead man on a hill.   "_Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!_"   The sticks fell and the mouth of the new circle crunched and screamed. The beast was on its knees in the center, its arms folded over its face. It was crying out against the abominable noise something about a body on the hill. The beast struggled forward, broke the ring and fell over the steep edge of the rock to the sand by the water. At once the crowd surged after it, poured down the rock, leapt on to the beast, screamed, struck, bit, tore. There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws.   Then the clouds opened and let down the rain like a waterfall. The water bounded from the mountain-top, tore leaves and branches from the trees, poured like a cold shower over the struggling heap on the sand. Presently the heap broke up and figures staggered away. Only the beast lay still, a few yards from the sea. Even in the rain they could see how small a beast it was; and already its blood was staining the sand.   Now a great wind blew the rain sideways, cascading the water from the forest trees. On the mountain-top the parachute filled and moved; the figure slid, rose to its feet, spun, swayed down through a vastness of wet air and trod with ungainly feet the tops of the high trees; falling, still falling, it sank toward the beach and the boys rushed screaming into the darkness. The parachute took the figure forward, furrowing the lagoon, and bumped it over the reef and out to sea.     Toward midnight the rain ceased and the clouds drifted away, so that the sky was scattered once more with the incredible lamps of stars. Then the breeze died too and there was no noise save the drip and trickle of water that ran out of clefts and spilled down, leaf by leaf, to the brown earth of the island. The air was cool, moist, and clear; and presently even the sound of the water was still. The beast lay huddled on the pale beach and the stains spread, inch by inch.   The edge of the lagoon became a streak of phosphorescence which advanced minutely, as the great wave of the tide flowed. The clear water mirrored the clear sky and the angular bright constellations. The line of phosphorescence bulged about the sand grains and little pebbles; it held them each in a dimple of tension, then suddenly accepted them with an inaudible syllable and moved on.   Along the shoreward edge of the shallows the advancing clearness was full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered with a coat of pearls. The tide swelled in over the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with a layer of silver. Now it touched the first of the stains that seeped from the broken body and the creatures made a moving patch of light as they gathered at the edge. The water rose farther and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble. The strange attendant creatures, with their fiery eyes and trailing vapors, busied themselves round his head. The body lifted a fraction of an inch from the sand and a bubble of air escaped from the mouth with a wet plop. Then it turned gently in the water.   Somewhere over the darkened curve of the world the sun and moon were pulling, and the film of water on the earth planet was held, bulging slightly on one side while the solid core turned. The great wave of the tide moved farther along the island and the water lifted. Softly, surrounded by a fringe of inquisitive bright creatures, itself a silver shape beneath the steadfast constellations, Simon's dead body moved out toward the open sea. 第九章 偷窥尸体 乌云还在岛的上空集结着。 暑热的气流整天连绵不断地从山上升起,直冲到一万英尺的高空;无数旋转着的气团堆聚起产生出静电,空中可能随时都可能发生爆炸。  临近傍晚,太阳已经落山了,明亮的日光被黄铜色的眩目的光所取代。 甚至连从海上吹来的微风也是热乎乎的,没有任何凉意能使人恢复精神。 水上,树上,岩石粉红的表面上,色彩都在逐渐地变暗下去,灰褐色的乌云低覆着。 除了闹哄哄的苍蝇使蝇王变得更黑,使掏出的内脏看上去就象一堆闪闪发亮的煤块,一切都静寂无声。 甚至当西蒙鼻子里有一根血管破裂,鲜血喷洒而出的时候,苍蝇也宁可选择猪的臭味,而对西蒙置之不理。 由于鼻子流血,西蒙的痉挛过去了,这使他进入昏昏欲睡的状态。 藤蔓像毯子似的这样使他躺在上面更显舒适,傍晚渐渐地过去,放炮似的隆隆雷声仍在响着。 西蒙终于醒过来,隐约地看到贴近在脸颊边的黑色泥土。 他丝毫未动,只是躺在那儿,脸侧靠着地面,目光呆滞地看着前面。 然后他翻过身来,脚被缩到身下,拉着藤蔓站立起来。 藤蔓不住地摇晃着,成群的苍蝇从内脏上嗡地飞开,发出邪恶的噪声,又一窝蜂地落回原处。 西蒙站了起来。光线是神秘的。 蝇王象个黑色的球悬挂在木棒上。 西蒙对着空地大声说道:“那又怎么办呢?” 没有回答。西蒙转脸避开空地,缓缓地爬出了藤蔓,他处在森林的薄暮之中。 西蒙在树干之中意气消沉地走着,面无表情,嘴上和下巴上血斑累累。只是有时候他撩开一根根藤蔓,根据地形的趋势选择方向,嘴中还嘟囔着听不出话音的话语。 过一会儿树上交织垂挂下来的藤蔓逐渐减少,树丛中树影斑驳。 这儿是这个岛的岛脊,山下平卧着稍稍高起的地形,树林稀疏。 在这儿,空旷的空地上散布着乱丛棵子和高大的树木,他顺着地势向上,树林更开阔了。他虽然因疲劳而变得跌跌撞撞,但他仍不停地朝前走着。 平素明亮的眼神从他的双眸中消失了,西蒙象个老头儿似的,以一种阴郁的决心不停地走着。 一阵风吹得他东倒西歪,西蒙看到自己已经到了开阔地,在山岩之上,在黄铜色的天穹之下。 他感到双腿乏力没劲,舌头一直发痛。 他看到了风吹到山顶时什么东西在动弹:背衬着乌云有一样蓝色的东西在摇曳。 西蒙伴着又吹过来的风,他努力朝前走着,此刻风势更强,猛吹过森林里成片的树梢,吹低了的树梢,发出阵阵的怒号。 当看到山顶上有一个隆起的东西突然端坐起来,俯看着他。西蒙把脸遮住,继续吃力地往前走。 苍蝇也已经发现了那个身形。他们被这有生命的运动吓得飞开了,苍蝇围着那东西的脑袋形成一朵黑云。 随后蓝色的降落伞倒坍下来,臃肿的身形更加前倾,发出叹息的声音,而苍蝇则再一次停落下来。 西蒙感到膝盖猛地撞到山岩上。他慢慢地朝前蠕动着,一会儿他就明白了。 绳索绕作一团、相互交缠,为他展示了这种拙劣模仿的动力结构。 他细看着白花花的鼻梁骨,牙齿,以及腐烂不堪的外貌。 他看到一层层的橡皮和帆布毫不留情地把本该烂掉的可怜的身子拉扯在一起。 接着一阵风吹来,那身形又被提起来,鞠着躬,朝他散发出一股恶臭。 西蒙四肢贴地,把肚子里的东西都呕了出来。 随后降落伞的伞绳被他揪在手中,将缠在山岩的部分解开,那身形这才摆脱了狂风的肆虐。 最后他转过脸去俯瞰海滩。平台旁的火堆似乎已经灭了,至少没有在冒烟。在小河的另一边,沿着海滩再过去,靠近一大块平坦的岩石,一缕细烟在空中袅袅升起。 西蒙忘掉了苍蝇,他用双手圈住眼睛凝视着烟。 即使在那样的距离,仍可以依稀看到许多的孩子——也许是全部孩子——都在那儿。 那么他们是为了避开野兽,已经把营盘搬过去了吧。 想到这儿,西蒙把身子转向坐在他身旁那发出恶臭的,可怜的破烂东西。 野兽是厉害而又是恐怖的,这个消息必须尽早地传给其他人。 他开始走下山去。下面两条腿有点支撑不住,即使他尽了最大努力,也只能做到蹒跚而行。 “洗澡,”拉尔夫说,“只有这件事可做。” 猪崽子正透过眼镜审察着慢慢暗下来的天空。“我不喜欢那些乌云。咱们刚着陆时下的那阵大雨你还记得吗?” “又要下雨了。”拉尔夫一头潜入水潭。两个小家伙试图从比血还温暖的湿润的潭水中边玩耍边得到慰抚。 猪崽子取下眼镜,谨慎而小心地迈到水中,随后又戴上眼镜。 拉尔夫凫到水面上,朝猪崽子喷出一股水。 “小心我的眼镜儿,”猪崽子说。“眼镜弄上水我就得爬出去擦干。” 拉尔夫又喷出一股水但却没射中。 他取笑猪崽子,指望他会象平常那样逆来顺受地退却,受辱也不吭一声。 出乎意料的,猪崽子却也用手拍起水来。 “停下!”猪崽子叫喊道,“听见没有?” 他愤恨地朝拉尔夫脸上泼着水。 “好吧,好吧,”拉尔夫说道。“别发脾气好吗。” 猪崽子停止击水。“我头痛。或许空气凉快一点就好了。” “希望快点下雨。” “我就盼咱们可以回家。”猪崽子挺着肚子,往后躺在水潭倾斜的沙岸上。 将肚子上的水晾干。 拉尔夫朝天喷水。 人们可以根据云中光斑的移动来猜测太阳的方向。拉尔夫跪在水中环顾四周。 “人都到哪儿去了?”猪崽子坐起来。 “也许他们正躺在窝棚里。” “萨姆纳里克在哪儿?” “还有比尔?”猪崽子由平台指向更远的地方。 “他们向那个地方去了,杰克那一帮。” “随他们去,”拉尔夫不自在地说道,“我毫不介意。” “就是为了一点肉——” “还有打猎,”拉尔夫精明地说,“装作是一个部落,涂上野蛮人打仗前涂的涂料。” 猪崽子没看拉尔夫,俯首拨动着水下的沙子。 “或许咱们也应该去。”猪崽子被拉尔夫看得脸红了。 “我是说——去搞明白,确实没有发生什么事情。”拉尔夫又喷起了水。 早在拉尔夫和猪崽子赶到杰克那块地盘以前,那伙人的吵闹声就被他们听到了。 在森林和海岸之间,在棕榈树留出一条宽宽的、带状草根土的地方,有一片草。 从草根土的边缘再往下走一步,就是超出潮汐最高水位的白晃晃的、吹散开的沙地,这沙地经过人们的踩踏,暖暖的、干乎乎的。 在沙地下还有一块岩石朝外伸到了环礁湖中。 有一小段沙滩在这岩石之外,再往外就靠着海水。 火堆在岩石上燃烧着,烤猪肉的脂油滴滴嗒嗒地掉进从这里望过去看不见的火焰之中。 除了猪崽子、拉尔夫、西蒙,还有两个管烤猪的,岛上所有的孩子都在草根土上聚会。 他们笑呀、唱呀,有的在草地上躺着、有的蹲着、有的站着,摆出各种姿势,手里都拿着吃的。 可是从他们油污的面孔来判断,猪肉已经差不多吃完了;有些孩子手持椰子壳喝着。 在聚会以前,一根大圆木被他们拖到了草地中央。 杰克涂着涂料,戴着花冠,象个偶像似的坐在那儿。在他身旁,绿色树叶上堆放着猪肉,还有野果和盛满了水的椰子壳。 猪崽子和拉尔夫来到有草的岩石台边缘,孩子们看到他们来了,一个个都沉寂着,只有杰克旁边的那个还在讲。 随后,他也没话说了,杰克转身回到原来坐的地方,他盯着他们俩好一阵,浪击礁石的沉闷低声被火堆噼噼啪啪的响声所压倒了,成了最响的声音。 拉尔夫把目光移开去,萨姆却以为拉尔夫向他转过身来是要指责他,于是放下啃了一半的骨头,一边神经质地格格地笑笑。 拉尔夫踉跄地走了一步,低声地指着一棵棕榈树,向猪崽子说了什么,他们俩也象萨姆一样格格地笑了。 拉尔夫想闲逛就把脚从沙地里拔出来。猪崽子想吹口哨。 在这个时候,在火堆旁烤肉的孩子们突地拖着好大一块肉朝草地奔过来。 他们向猪崽子身上撞去,烫得猪崽子跺脚乱跳哇哇乱叫。 拉尔夫立刻和那群孩子连成了一气,暴风雨般的哄笑缓和了他们之间的气氛。 猪崽子再次成了众矢之的,人人兴高采烈,情绪趋向正常。 杰克站起身,挥舞着长矛。 “把肉拿给他们点。”带木叉的孩子们给了拉尔夫和猪崽子各一大块肥肉。 他俩馋涎欲滴地把肉接住,就站着吃起来。天空呈黄铜色,雷声隆隆,向世人预告暴风雨马上来临。 杰克又舞了舞长矛。 “每个人都吃够了吗?”还剩了些肉,有的在小木叉上烤得嘶嘶作响,有的堆放在绿色的大叶子上。 猪崽子肚子不争气,他把肉已经啃光了的骨头丢到海滩上,弯下腰想去再要一点。 杰克又不耐烦地问道:“每个人都吃够了吗?” 他的声调中含有警告的意味,这是一种占有者由于自豪感而发出的警告;孩子们趁还有时间赶紧吃。 猜想孩子们不会马上停止,杰克就从那根圆木上——那是他的宝座——站起来,漫步到草地边上。 他似乎是在那张花脸后面俯看着拉尔夫和猪崽子。 他们俩在沙地的那一边,并移远了一点,拉尔夫边吃边看管火堆,他注意到了,虽然并不理解,此刻乘着暗淡的光线火焰可以看得更清晰。 傍晚降临了,不是带着宁静的甜美,而是带着暴力的威胁降临了。 杰克开口道:“给我点喝的。” 亨利将一个椰子壳递向他,杰克边喝边透过锯齿状的果壳边缘观察着猪崽子和拉尔夫。 权力在他褐色的、隆起的前臂上,在他的肩上,权威象野猿似的在他耳边喋喋而语。 “全体坐下。”孩子们在杰克面前的草地上排列成行,但是在低一英尺的松松的沙地上只有拉尔夫和猪崽子站在那儿。 杰克转过假面具似的脸部表示暂时不理他们俩,俯视着坐在地上的孩子们,并用长矛指着他们。 “谁愿意加入到我的队伍里来?”拉尔夫突然一动,一个趔趄。 一些孩子向他转过去。 “我给你们吃的,”杰克说道,“你们将会得到我的猎手们的保护,免遭野兽的伤害。谁乐意加入到我的队伍里来?” “我是头头,”拉尔夫说,“是你们选我的。我们要让火一直燃烧着。此刻你们却哪儿有吃就往哪儿跑——” “你自己也跑来啦!”杰克喊道。“看看你手里的那根骨头吧!”拉尔夫面红耳赤。 “我说过你们是猎手,那是你们的活儿。” 杰克又不同他说话了。“谁想加入到我的队伍里来一起玩?” “我是头头,”拉尔夫用颤抖的声音说道。“火堆怎么样?我有海螺——” “你没带着它,”杰克嘲讽地说。“它被你丢在那儿没有带来。搞清楚些,放聪明点吧?海螺在岛的这一头不算数——” 一声霹雳突然响起。 不是沉闷的隆隆雷声,而是豁喇一声猛烈的爆裂声。 “海螺在这儿也算数,”拉尔夫说,“在整个岛上都起作用。” “那你打算拿海螺干什么用?”拉尔夫将一排排的孩子仔细地打量一番。从他们那儿是不可能得到帮助的,拉尔夫转过脸去,心乱如麻,大汗淋漓。 猪崽子低声说着:“火堆——得救。” “谁愿意加入到我的队伍里来?” “我愿意。” “我。” “我愿。” “我要吹海螺了,”拉尔夫气喘吁吁地说道,“我要召开大会。” “我们不要听。”拉尔夫被猪崽子碰了一下手腕。 “走吧。会惹出麻烦来的。咱们也吃过肉了。” 一道明晃晃的闪电在森林的那一边闪过,又来了个晴天霹雳,一个小家伙哭起来。 在他们中间有大滴大滴的雨点落下,每一滴打下来都发出一记声响。 “要下暴雨了,”拉尔夫说,“这下你们该碰上咱们刚降落到岛上时下的大雨了。你们说谁是最聪明的呢?你们的窝棚在哪儿?你们打算怎么办?”猎手们心情不定地看着天空,躲避着雨点的袭击。 一阵焦虑使孩子们左摇右晃,毫无意义地乱动起来。 依稀可见的闪电更亮了,隆隆的雷声几乎使人忍受不住。小家伙们尖叫着四散奔逃。 杰克跳到沙地上。 “跳咱们的舞!来吧!跳舞!”他踉踉跄跄地穿过厚厚的沙地,跑到火堆另一边的空阔的岩石上。 在耀眼的闪电的间歇中,天色一片黑漆漆的,让人恐惧,孩子们吵闹地跟着他。 罗杰侨装一头野猪,呼噜呼噜地哼哼着冲向杰克,杰克则朝边上让。 猎手们拿起长矛,管烤肉的拿起木叉和余下的木柴。 一个圆圈在跑动、在扩大,孩子们和唱的声音也逐渐扩大。罗杰模仿着野猪受到惊吓的样子,在圆圈的外围小家伙们跑着、跳着。 猪崽子和拉尔夫受到穹苍的威胁,感到迫切地要加入这个发狂似的,但又使人有点安全感的一伙人中间去。 他们高兴地触摸人构成的象篱笆似的褐色的背脊,恐怖被这道篱笆包围了起来,使它成了可以被控制的东西。 “杀野兽哟!割喉咙哟!放它血哟!”孩子们开始兜着圈有节奏地跑着,他们的和唱也不仅仅是起初那表面的兴奋,而是开始象脉搏那样一起一落地跳个不停。 罗杰停止装扮野猪,转而又扮作了猎手,因而圈子中间变得空空的。 有些小家伙自个儿组起了一个小圆圈,大小两个圆圈不停地转,似乎重复地转会不由自主地获得安全一样。这就象是一个有机体在跳动和跺脚。 一道蓝白色的口子在黑沉沉的穹苍绽裂开。霎时间,在孩子们的上方响起了豁喇一声巨响,好象他们被一条巨鞭抽打着似的。和唱的调子升高了,带着一种感情的迸发。 “杀野兽哟!豁喉咙哟!放它血哟!”此刻另一种渴望又从恐怖中出现了,强烈、紧迫而又盲目的渴望。 “杀野兽哟!割喉咙哟!放它血哟!”又在他们头上裂开了一道蓝白色锯子状的口子,带有硫磺味的霹雳声再一次猛地打将下来。 此时小家伙们从森林边飞奔出来,他们尖声怪叫、四处逃窜,有一个冲破了大家伙们的圆圈,惊恐地叫道:“野兽!野兽!” 圆圈此刻变成了一个马蹄形。 从森林里正有一个东西爬出来。不清楚爬出来的是个什么东西,黑咕隆咚的。 孩子们在“野兽”面前发出受伤似的尖利急叫。 “野兽”踉踉跄跄地爬进马蹄形的圈圈。 “杀野兽哟!割喉咙哟!放它血哟!”天上蓝白色的口子停止了运动,雷响声令人难以忍受。 西蒙大声地叫喊着,山上有个死人。 “杀野兽哟!割喉咙哟!放它血哟!干掉它哟!”木棒一条条地揍下去,孩子们重新围成一个圈圈,从他们的嘴发出嘎吱嘎吱咬嚼的声音和尖叫声。 “野兽”手臂交迭地护着面孔,在圈子当中双膝着地。 乘着电闪雷鸣的巨响,“它”大叫大嚷山上有个死尸。 “野兽”挣扎着朝前,冲破了包围圈,从笔直的岩石边缘摔倒在下面靠近海水的沙滩上。 人群立刻紧紧追随着他,他们从岩石上涌下去,跳到“野兽”身上,叫着、打着、咬着、撕着。 没有话语、也没有动作,只有牙齿和爪子在撕扯。 然后乌云分开了,象瀑布似的下起了倾盆大雨,雨水从山顶上溅下来,树上的青枝绿叶被雨水打落下来;雨水倾泻到沙滩上正在打闹的孩子们身上,就象是冷水淋浴。 不一会儿那群孩子向四处逃去,一个个人影踉踉跄跄地跑开去。 只有那“野兽”离海边几码远,静静地躺在那儿。 即使在大雨滂沱之中,他们也能看得出那“野兽”小得可怜,它的鲜血染红了沙滩。此刻雨被一阵大风吹向一边,雨水从树上象小瀑布似的落下。 风把山顶上的降落伞吹得鼓起来,并开始移动,伞下的人也被带动了,它直立起来,旋转着,接着摇摇晃晃地朝下穿过一大片蒙蒙细雨,以笨拙的脚步擦过高高的树梢,它往下摔,一直往下摔,朝海滩降落下去。 孩子们冲到黑暗的地方尖叫着躲起来。降落伞带着人身仍靠向前,在环礁湖水面上划出波浪,从礁石上方撞过去,飘向大海。 雨收云散在夜半时分,夜空再次布满了令人出乎意料的明亮的星星。 随后微风也平息了。从岩缝里流出的涓涓细流,不断地经过树叶往下滴淌,最后流到岛上灰褐的泥土里,除了这雨水的滴滴嗒嗒的声音之外,其他没有任何响声。空气清凉、湿润、澄澈,一会儿甚至连水滴声也停了下来。 “野兽”在灰白的海滩上蜷缩成一团,血迹慢慢地渗透开去。 当潮水的大浪涌来的时候,环礁湖的边缘成了一条慢慢向前伸展的磷光带。清澈的海水映照出清澈的夜空和辉光闪闪的群星座。 在小沙粒和小卵石旁磷光带膨胀扩大,浮动着的磷光以一个个小圈圈紧包着小石粒,随后突如其来地,悄无声息地裹着小石粒向前移动。 浅滩边缘在靠海岸的方向,在不断推进的一片明亮的海水中,充满了奇怪的、银色身体的小生物,它们长着炯炯发亮的小眼睛。 各处都有把空气隔绝的一块块较大的卵石,包上了一层珍珠。 雨点将潮水涨到的沙滩打成了一个个坑,把一切都铺上一层银色。 此刻磷光触到了从破裂的身体里渗出来的第一批血迹,在浅滩边缘小生物聚积起来,形成一片移动着的光影。 潮水仍在上涨,西蒙粗硬的头发披上了一层亮光。他的脸颊镶上了一条银边,弯弯的肩膀就象是大理石雕出来的。 那些奇怪的、如影随形的小生物,长着炯炯的眼睛,拖着雾气的尾巴,在西蒙的头旁边忙碌着。 西蒙嘴里冒出一个气泡,连气带水发出扑的一声并将他的身子从沙滩上抬起一点儿。 然后在海水之中他的身子渐渐浮现。 太阳和月亮在地球曲面的某个黑暗部分正发挥着引力;地球的固体部分在转动,牵住了地球表面的水,在一边微微地上涨。 海水越涨越高,潮水的大浪沿着岛屿向前推移。在西蒙尸体的四周有一条由充满了好奇心的小生物组成的闪亮边镶嵌着。 它本身在星座稳定的光芒的照耀之下也是银光闪闪的;就这样,西蒙的尸体轻轻地飘向辽阔的大海。 Chapter 10 The Shell and the Glasses   Piggy eyed the advancing figure carefully. Nowadays he sometimes found that he saw more clearly if he removed his glasses and shifted the one lens to the other eye; but even through the good eye, after what had happened, Ralph remained unmistakably Ralph. He came now out of the coconut trees, limping, dirty, with dead leaves hanging from his shock of yellow hair. One eye was a slit in his puffy cheek and a great scab had formed on his right knee. He paused for a moment and peered at the figure on the platform.   "Piggy? Are you the only one left?"   "There's some littluns."   "They don't count. No biguns?"   "Oh--Samneric. They're collecting wood."   "Nobody else?"   "Not that I know of."   Ralph climbed on to the platform carefully. The coarse grass was still worn away where the assembly used to sit; the fragile white conch still gleamed by the polished seat. Ralph sat down in the grass facing the chief's seat and the conch. Piggy knelt at his left, and for a long minute there was silence.   At last Ralph cleared his throat and whispered something.   Piggy whispered back.   "What you say?"   Ralph spoke up.   "Simon."   Piggy said nothing but nodded, solemnly. They continued to sit, gazing with impaired sight at the chief's seat and the glittering lagoon. The green light and the glossy patches of sunshine played over their befouled bodies.   At length Ralph got up and went to the conch. He took the shell caressingly with both hands and knelt, leaning against the trunk.   "Piggy."   "Uh?"   "What we going to do?"   Piggy nodded at the conch.   "You could--"   "Call an assembly?"   Ralph laughed sharply as he said the word and Piggy frowned.   "You're still chief."   Ralph laughed again.   "You are. Over us."   "I got the conch."   "Ralph! Stop laughing like that. Look, there ain't no need, Ralph! What's the others going to think?"   At last Ralph stopped. He was shivering.   "Piggy."   "Uh?"   "That was Simon."   "You said that before."   "Piggy."   "Uh?"   "That was murder."   "You stop it!" said Piggy, shrilly. "What good're you doing talking like that?"   He jumped to his feet and stood over Ralph.   "It was dark. There was that--that bloody dance. There was lightning and thunder and rain. We was scared!"   "I wasn't scared," said Ralph slowly, "I was--I don't know what I was."   "We was scared!" said Piggy excitedly. "Anything might have happened. It wasn't--what you said."   He was gesticulating, searching for a formula.   "Oh, Piggy!"   Ralph's voice, low and stricken, stopped Piggy's gestures. He bent down and waited. Ralph, cradling the conch, rocked himself to and fro.   "Don't you understand, Piggy? The things we did--"   "He may still be--"   "No."   "P'raps he was only pretending--"   Piggy's voice trailed off at the sight of Ralph's face.   "You were outside. Outside the circle. You never really came in. Didn't you see what we--what they did?"   There was loathing, and at the same time a kind of feverish excitement, in his voice.   "Didn't you see, Piggy?"   "Not all that well. I only got one eye now. You ought to know that, Ralph."   Ralph continued to rock to and fro.   "It was an accident," said Piggy suddenly, "that's what it was. An accident." His voice shrilled again. "Coming in the dark--he hadn't no business crawling like that out of the dark. He was batty. He asked for it." He gesticulated widely again. "It was an accident."   "You didn't see what they did--"   "Look, Ralph. We got to forget this. We can't do no good thinking about it, see?"   "I'm frightened. Of us. I want to go home. Oh God, I want to go home."   "It was an accident," said Piggy stubbornly, "and that's that."   He touched Ralph's bare shoulder and Ralph shuddered at the human contact.   "And look, Ralph"--Piggy glanced round quickly, then leaned close--"don't let on we was in that dance. Not to Samneric."   "But we were! All of us!"   Piggy shook his head.   "Not us till last. They never noticed in the dark. Anyway you said I was only on the outside."   "So was I," muttered Ralph, "I was on the outside too."   Piggy nodded eagerly.   "That's right. We was on the outside. We never done nothing, we never seen nothing."   Piggy paused, then went on.   "We'll live on our own, the four of us--"   "Four of us. We aren't enough to keep the fire burning."   "We'll try. See? I lit it."   Samneric came dragging a great log out of the forest. They dumped it by the fire and turned to the pool. Ralph jumped to his feet.   "Hi! You two!"   The twins checked a moment, then walked on.   "They're going to bathe, Ralph."   "Better get it over."   The twins were very surprised to see Ralph. They flushed and looked past him into the air.   "Hullo. Fancy meeting you, Ralph."   "We just been in the forest--"   "--to get wood for the fire--"   "--we got lost last night."   Ralph examined his toes.   "You got lost after the . . ."   Piggy cleaned his lens.   "After the feast," said Sam in a stifled voice. Eric nodded. "Yes, after the feast."   "We left early," said Piggy quickly, "because we were tired."   "So did we--"   "--very early--"   "--we were very tired."   Sam touched a scratch on his forehead and then hurriedly took his hand away. Eric fingered his split lip.   "Yes. We were very tired," repeated Sam, "so we left early. Was it a good--"   The air was heavy with unspoken knowledge. Sam twisted and the obscene word shot out of him. "-- dance?"   Memory of the dance that none of them had attended shook all four boys convulsively.   "We left early."     When Roger came to the neck of land that joined the Castle Rock to the mainland he was not surprised to be challenged. He had reckoned, during the terrible night, on finding at least some of the tribe holding out against the horrors of the island in the safest place.   The voice rang out sharply from on high, where the diminishing crags were balanced one on another.   "Halt! Who goes there?"   "Roger."   "Advance, friend."   Roger advanced.   "You could see who I was."   "The chief said we got to challenge everyone."   Roger peered up.   "You couldn't stop me coming if I wanted."   "Couldn't I? Climb up and see."   Roger clambered up the ladder-like cliff.   "Look at this."   A log had been jammed under the topmost rock and another lever under that. Robert leaned lightly on the lever and the rock groaned. A full effort would send the rock thundering down to the neck of land. Roger admired.   "He's a proper chief, isn't he?"   Robert nodded.   "He's going to take us hunting."   He jerked his head in the direction of the distant shelters where a thread of white smoke climbed up the sky. Roger, sitting on the very edge of the cliff, looked somberly back at the island as he worked with his fingers at a loose tooth. His gaze settled on the top of the distant mountain and Robert changed the unspoken subject.   "He's going to beat Wilfred."   "What for?"   Robert shook his head doubtfully.   "I don't know. He didn't say. He got angry and made us tie Wilfred up. He's been"--he giggled excitedly--"he's been tied for hours, waiting--"   "But didn't the chief say why?"   "I never heard him."   Sitting on the tremendous rock in the torrid sun, Roger received this news as an illumination. He ceased to work at his tooth and sat still, assimilating the possibilities of irresponsible authority. Then, without another word, he climbed down the back of the rocks toward the cave and the rest of the tribe.   The chief was sitting there, naked to the waist, his face blocked out in white and red. The tribe lay in a semicircle before him. The newly beaten and untied Wilfred was sniffing noisily in the background. Roger squatted with the rest.   "Tomorrow," went on the chief, "we shall hunt again."   He pointed at this savage and that with his spear.   "Some of you will stay here to improve the cave and defend the gate. I shall take a few hunters with me and bring back meat. The defenders of the gate will see that the others don't sneak in."   A savage raised his hand and the chief turned a bleak, painted face toward him.   "Why should they try to sneak in, Chief?"   The chief was vague but earnest.   "They will. They'll try to spoil things we do. So the watchers at the gate must be careful. And then--"   The chief paused. They saw a triangle of startling pink dart out, pass along his lips and vanish again.   "--and then, the beast might try to come in. You remember how he crawled--"   The semicircle shuddered and muttered in agreement.   "He came--disguised. He may come again even though we gave him the head of our kill to eat. So watch; and be careful."   Stanley lifted his forearm off the rock and held up an interrogative finger.   "Well?"   "But didn't we, didn't we--?"   He squirmed and looked down.   "No!"   In the silence that followed, each savage flinched away from his individual memory.   "No! How could we--kill--it?"   Half-relieved, half-daunted by the implication of further terrors, the savages murmured again.   "So leave the mountain alone," said the chief, solemnly, "and give it the head if you go hunting."   Stanley flicked his finger again.   "I expect the beast disguised itself."   "Perhaps," said the chief. A theological speculation presented itself. "We'd better keep on the right side of him, anyhow. You can't tell what he might do."   The tribe considered this; and then were shaken, as if by a flow of wind. The chief saw the effect of his words and stood abruptly.   "But tomorrow we'll hunt and when we've got meat we'll have a feast--"   Bill put up his hand.   "Chief."   "Yes?"   "What'll we use for lighting the fire?"   The chief's blush was hidden by the white and red clay. Into his uncertain silence the tribe spilled their murmur once more. Then the chief held up his hand.   "We shall take fire from the others. Listen. Tomorrow we'll hunt and get meat. Tonight I'll go along with two hunters--who'll come?"   Maurice and Roger put up their hands.   "Maurice--"   "Yes, Chief?"   "Where was their fire?"   "Back at the old place by the fire rock."   The chief nodded.   "The rest of you can go to sleep as soon as the sun sets. But us three, Maurice, Roger and me, we've got work to do. We'll leave just before sunset--"   Maurice put up his hand.   "But what happens if we meet--"   The chief waved his objection aside.   "We'll keep along by the sands. Then if he comes we'll do our, our dance again."   "Only the three of us?"   Again the murmur swelled and died away.     Piggy handed Ralph his glasses and waited to receive back his sight. The wood was damp; and this was the third time they had lighted it. Ralph stood back, speaking to himself.   "We don't want another night without fire."   He looked round guiltily at the three boys standing by. This was the first time he had admitted the double function of the fire. Certainly one was to send up a beckoning column of smoke; but the other was to be a hearth now and a comfort until they slept. Eric breathed on the wood till it glowed and sent out a little flame. A billow of white and yellow smoke reeked up. Piggy took back his glasses and looked at the smoke with pleasure.   "If only we could make a radio!"   "Or a plane--"   "--or a boat."   Ralph dredged in his fading knowledge of the world.   "We might get taken prisoner by the Reds."   Eric pushed back his hair.   "They'd be better than--"   He would not name people and Sam finished the sentence for him by nodding along the beach.   Ralph remembered the ungainly figure on a parachute.   "He said something about a dead man." He flushed painfully at this admission that he had been present at the dance. He made urging motions at the smoke and with his body. "Don't stop--go on up!"   "Smoke's getting thinner."   "We need more wood already, even when it's wet."   "My asthma--"   The response was mechanical.   "Sucks to your ass-mar."   "If I pull logs, I get my asthma bad. I wish I didn't, Ralph, but there it is."   The three boys went into the forest and fetched armfuls of rotten wood. Once more the smoke rose, yellow and thick.   "Let's get something to eat."   Together they went to the fruit trees, carrying their spears, saying little, cramming in haste. When they came out of the forest again the sun was setting and only embers glowed in the fire, and there was no smoke.   "I can't carry any more wood," said Eric. "I'm tired."   Ralph cleared his throat.   "We kept the fire going up there."   "Up there it was small. But this has got to be a big one."   Ralph carried a fragment to the fire and watched the smoke that drifted into the dusk.   "We've got to keep it going."   Eric flung himself down.   "I'm too tired. And what's the good?"   "Eric!" cried Ralph in a shocked voice. "Don't talk like that!"   Sam knelt by Eric.   "Well--what is the good?"   Ralph tried indignantly to remember. There was something good about a fire. Something overwhelmingly good.   "Ralph's told you often enough," said Piggy moodily. "How else are we going to be rescued?"   "Of course! If we don't make smoke--"   He squatted before them in the crowding dusk.   "Don't you understand? What's the good of wishing for radios and boats?"   He held out his hand and twisted the fingers into a fist. "There's only one thing we can do to get out of this mess. Anyone can play at hunting, anyone can get us meat--"   He looked from face to face. Then, at the moment of greatest passion and conviction, that curtain flapped in his head and he forgot what he had been driving at. He knelt there, his fist clenched, gazing solemnly from one to the other. Then the curtain whisked back.   "Oh, yes. So we've got to make smoke; and more smoke--"   "But we can't keep it going! Look at that!"   The fire was dying on them.   "Two to mind the fire," said Ralph, half to himself, "that's twelve hours a day."   "We can't get any more wood, Ralph--"   "--not in the dark--"   "--not at night--"   "We can light it every morning," said Piggy. "Nobody ain't going to see smoke in the dark."   Sam nodded vigorously.   "It was different when the fire was--"   "--up there."   Ralph stood up, feeling curiously defenseless with the darkness pressing in.   "Let the fire go then, for tonight."   He led the way to the first shelter, which still stood, though battered. The bed leaves lay within, dry and noisy to the touch. In the next shelter a littlun was talking in his sleep. The four biguns crept into the shelter and burrowed under the leaves. The twins lay together and Ralph and Piggy at the other end. For a while there was the continual creak and rustle of leaves as they tried for comfort. "Piggy."   "Yeah?"   "All right?"   "S'pose so."   At length, save for an occasional rustle, the shelter was silent. An oblong of blackness relieved with brilliant spangles hung before them and there was the hollow sound of surf on the reef. Ralph settled himself for his nightly game of supposing. . . .   Supposing they could be transported home by jet, then before morning they would land at that big airfield in Wiltshire. They would go by car; no, for things to be perfect they would go by train; all the way down to Devon and take that cottage again. Then at the foot of the garden the wild ponies would come and look over the wall. . . .   Ralph turned restlessly in the leaves. Dartmoor was wild and so were the ponies. But the attraction of wildness had gone.   His mind skated to a consideration of a tamed town where savagery could not set foot. What could be safer than the bus center with its lamps and wheels?   All at once, Ralph was dancing round a lamp standard. There was a bus crawling out of the bus station, a strange bus. . . .   "Ralph! Ralph!"   "What is it?"   "Don't make a noise like that--"   "Sorry."   From the darkness of the further end of the shelter came a dreadful moaning and they shattered the leaves in their fear. Sam and Eric, locked in an embrace, were fighting each other.   "Sam! Sam!"   "Hey--Eric!"   Presently all was quiet again.   Piggy spoke softly to Ralph.   "We got to get out of this."   "What d'you mean?"   "Get rescued."   For the first time that day, and despite the crowding blackness, Ralph sniggered.   "I mean it," whispered Piggy. "If we don't get home soon we'll be barmy."   "Round the bend."   "Bomb happy."   "Crackers;"   Ralph pushed the damp tendrils of hair out of his eyes.   "You write a letter to your auntie."   Piggy considered this solemnly.   "I don't know where she is now. And I haven't got an envelope and a stamp. An' there isn't a mailbox. Or a postman."   The success of his tiny joke overcame Ralph. His sniggers became uncontrollable, his body jumped and twitched.   Piggy rebuked him with dignity.   "I haven't said anything all that funny."   Ralph continued to snigger though his chest hurt. His twitchings exhausted him till he lay, breathless and   woebegone, waiting for the next spasm. During one of these pauses he was ambushed by sleep.   "Ralph! You been making a noise again. Do be quiet, Ralph--because."   Ralph heaved over among the leaves. He had reason to be thankful that his dream was broken, for the bus had been nearer and more distinct.   "Why--because?"   "Be quiet--and listen."   Ralph lay down carefully, to the accompaniment of a long sigh from the leaves. Eric moaned something and then lay still. The darkness, save for the useless oblong of stars, was blanket-thick.   "I can't hear anything."   "There's something moving outside."   Ralph's head prickled. The sound of his blood drowned all else and then subsided.   "I still can't hear anything."   "Listen. Listen for a long time."   Quite clearly and emphatically, and only a yard or so away from the back of the shelter, a stick cracked. The blood roared again in Ralph's ears, confused images chased each other through his mind. A composite of these things was prowling round the shelters. He could feel Piggy's head against his shoulder and the convulsive grip of a hand.   "Ralph! Ralph!"   "Shut up and listen."   Desperately, Ralph prayed that the beast would prefer littluns.   A voice whispered horribly outside.   "Piggy--Piggy--"   "It's come!" gasped Piggy. "It's real!"   He clung to Ralph and reached to get his breath.   "Piggy, come outside. I want you, Piggy."   Ralph's mouth was against Piggy's ear.   "Don't say anything."   "Piggy--where are you, Piggy?"   Something brushed against the back of the shelter. Piggy kept still for a moment, then he had his asthma. He arched his back and crashed among the leaves with his legs. Ralph rolled away from him.   Then there was a vicious snarling in the mouth of the shelter and the plunge and thump of living things. Someone tripped over Ralph and Piggy's corner became a complication of snarls and crashes and flying limbs. Ralph hit out; then he and what seemed like a dozen others were rolling over and over, hitting, biting, scratching. He was torn and jolted, found fingers in his mouth and bit them. A fist withdrew and came back like a piston, so that the whole shelter exploded into light. Ralph twisted sideways on top of a writhing body and felt hot breath on his cheek. He began to pound the mouth below him, using his clenched fist as a hammer; he hit with more and more passionate hysteria as the face became slippery. A knee jerked up between his legs and he fell sideways, busying himself with his pain, and the fight rolled over him. Then the shelter collapsed with smothering finality; and the anonymous shapes fought their way out and through. Dark figures drew themselves out of the wreckage and flitted away, till the screams of the littluns and Piggy's gasps were once more audible.   Ralph called out in a quavering voice.   "All you littluns, go to sleep. We've had a fight with the others. Now go to sleep."   Samneric came close and peered at Ralph.   "Are you two all right?"   "I think so--"   "--I got busted."   "So did I. How's Piggy?"   They hauled Piggy clear of the wreckage and leaned him against a tree. The night was cool and purged of immediate terror. Piggy's breathing was a little easier.   "Did you get hurt, Piggy?"   "Not much."   "That was Jack and his hunters," said Ralph bitterly. "Why can't they leave us alone?"   "We gave them something to think about," said Sam. Honesty compelled him to go on. "At least you did. I got mixed up with myself in a corner."   "I gave one of 'em what for," said Ralph, "I smashed him up all right. He won't want to come and fight us again in a hurry."   "So did I," said Eric. "When I woke up one was kicking me in the face. I got an awful bloody face, I think, Ralph. But I did him in the end."   "What did you do?"   "I got my knee up," said Eric with simple pride, "and I hit him with it in the pills. You should have heard him holler! He won't come back in a hurry either. So we didn't do too badly."   Ralph moved suddenly in the dark; but then he heard Eric working his mouth.   "What's the matter?"   "Jus' a tooth loose."   Piggy drew up his legs.   "You all right, Piggy?"   "I thought they wanted the conch."   Ralph trotted down the pale beach and jumped on to the platform. The conch still glimmered by the chief's seat. He gazed for a moment or two, then went back to Piggy.   "They didn't take the conch."   "I know. They didn't come for the conch. They came for something else. Ralph--what am I going to do?" Far off along the bowstave of beach, three figures trotted toward the Castle Rock. They kept away from the forest and down by the water. Occasionally they sang softly; occasionally they turned cartwheels down by the moving streak of phosphorescence. The chief led then, trotting steadily, exulting in his achievement. He was a chief now in truth; and he made stabbing motions with his spear. From his left hand dangled Piggy's broken glasses. 第十章 眼镜和海螺 猪崽子谨慎地盯着朝他走来的人影。 现在他有时候觉得,如果除去眼镜,在另一只眼睛上戴上一块镜片,倒可以看得更清楚一点;在发生了所有这些事情以后,但即便使用这只好眼睛来看,拉尔夫还是拉尔夫,绝对不会错。 此刻从椰子林中走出了一瘸一拐的拉尔夫,身上很脏,枯叶挂在乱蓬蓬的金黄头发上。 在他浮肿的脸颊上,一只眼睛肿得象条裂缝,在他右膝上还有一大块伤疤。 他停了片刻,眯起眼睛看着平台上的人影。 “猪崽子?剩下的就只有你一个?” “还有几个小家伙。” “他们不算数。没大家伙了?” “噢——还有萨姆纳里克。他们俩在拾柴火。” “没有别人了吗?” “据我所知并没有。” 拉尔夫谨慎地爬上了平台。 在原先与会者常坐的地方,被磨损的粗壮的野草尚未长好,在磨得挺亮的座位旁,易碎的白色海螺仍在闪闪发光。 拉尔夫面对着头儿的座位和海螺坐在野草中。在他左边跪着猪崽子,两个人好久都没有说话。 最终还是拉尔夫先清了清嗓子,小声地说起了什么。猪崽子轻声细气地回答道:“你说什么呀?” 拉尔夫提高声浪说:“西蒙。” 猪崽子一声不吭,只是庄重地点点头。 他们继续坐着,以一种受损伤者的眼光凝视着头儿的座位和闪闪发亮的环礁湖。 在他们弄脏了的身上有绿色的反光和日照的光斑晃动个不停。 终于拉尔夫站起来走向海螺。他用爱抚的双手捧起贝壳,倚着树干跪下去。 “猪崽子。” “嗯?” “咱们要做什么呢?” 猪崽子朝海螺点点头。“你可以——” “召集大会?”拉尔夫尖声大笑说起来,猪崽子将眉头紧皱。“你还是头头。” 拉尔夫再一次哈哈大笑。 “你是头头,是管我们的。” “海螺在我这儿。” “拉尔夫!不要笑了。光看着那儿可没有用,拉尔夫!别人会怎么想呢?” 终于拉尔夫不再笑了,他浑身打战。 “猪崽子。” “嗯?” “那是西蒙。” “你说过了。” “猪崽子。” “嗯?” “那是谋杀呀。” “别说了!”猪崽子厉声道。“你老那样唠叨能有什么用?” 他跳了起来,低头站在那里看着拉尔夫。“那时天昏地暗。加上——那该死的狂舞。再加上又是闪电,又是霹雳,又是暴雨。这一切把咱们都给吓坏了!” “我没有吓坏,”拉尔夫慢条斯理地说,“我只是——我也不知道自己当时怎么了。” “咱们全吓坏了!”猪崽子兴奋地说道。“什么事情都会发生的。那可不是——正如你所说的。” 他作着手势,想找句客套话说说。 “哦,猪崽子!”拉尔夫低沉而又苦恼的话音,使得猪崽子停止了做手势,弯下腰等着。 海螺被拉尔夫兜着,身子前后摇晃。“猪崽子,你不清楚吗?咱们所干的事情——” “他可能仍然是——” “不。” “他可能只是装作——”拉尔夫的表情被猪崽子看到时,说话的话音越来越轻。 “你在外面,在圆圈的外面。你从来没有真正进到圈子里过。你就没有看出咱们干的——他们干的事情吗?”厌恶感夹在拉尔夫的声音中,同时又带着一种狂热的兴奋。“猪崽子,难道你没看见吗?” “没看清楚。现在我只有一只眼睛了。拉尔夫,你应该很了解。” 拉尔夫还在前后摇晃着。 “那只是一次偶然的事情,”猪崽子突然说道,“仅那么一次,一次碰巧发生的事情。”他尖声锐气地又说。“来到一片漆黑当中——他根本不用那样从黑暗中爬出来。他疯了,自作自受。” 猪崽子又大做起手势来。“一场飞来横祸。” “你没看见他们干的事情——” “我说,拉尔夫,那件事咱们应该忘掉。想着它难道有什么好处吗?” “可把我吓坏了,咱们全都吓坏了。我想要回家。天哪,我真想回家。” “那是意外事情,”猪崽子固执地说,“情况就是那样。” 拉尔夫光光的肩膀任他抚摸着,这种人体的接触却使拉尔夫颤抖了一下。 “我说,拉尔夫,”猪崽子匆匆看向四周,然后把身子倾向拉尔夫——“可别泄漏咱们跳过那个舞,就是对萨姆纳里克也别说。” “但是咱们跳过!咱们全都跳过!” 猪崽子晃晃头。“咱们俩是后来才跳的。在一团漆黑中他们什么也没有注意到。无论怎样,你说过我只是在圈子外面——” “那我也是的,”拉尔夫嗫嚅着,“我也在外面。” 猪崽子焦急地点着头。“对呀,咱们在外面,咱们既没有干过什么,也没有看见过什么。” 猪崽子停了一下,接着说道:“咱们能自食其力,咱们四个——” “就咱们四个,要维持火堆人手可就太少了。” “咱们试试看,怎么样?我来点火。” 萨姆纳里克从森林里出来,身后拖着一根大树身。 大树身被他们俩倒在了火堆旁,转身走向水潭。 拉尔夫跳起来喊道:“嘿!你们俩站住!”双胞胎愣住了,随后走过来。 “他们俩打算去洗澡,拉尔夫。” “最好还是弄明白。”双胞胎吃惊地看着拉尔夫。 他们红着脸蛋,眼光越过他,看着空中。 “哈罗。碰上你真是出乎意料,拉尔夫。” “我们刚才在森林里——” “——在找柴火生火堆——” “——我们昨天夜里迷了路——” 拉尔夫低头打量着自己的脚趾。“发生了什么事你们俩才迷的路?”猪崽子擦擦眼镜片。 “在吃了猪肉以后,”萨姆低沉地答道。埃里克点点头说。“对,在吃了猪肉以后。” “我们早就走了,”猪崽子急忙说,“因为我们累了。” “我们也早就走了——” “——老早就走了——” “——我们累得要命。” 萨姆把前额上的伤痕摸摸,又将手匆忙地移开。 埃里克用手指摸摸裂开的嘴唇。“对,我们太累了,”萨姆再次说道,“所以早就走了,那不是一次很好的——” 大家心照不宣,气氛很沉闷。 萨姆的身子动了一动,那个令人讨厌的字眼脱口而出。 “——跳舞?” 那次跳舞,四个孩子没有一个参加,但提起它却使他们全都不寒而栗。 “我们早就走了。”罗杰走到连结城堡岩和岛屿主体部分的隘口处的时候,受到了盘问,这没有让他感到奇怪。 这已在他的意料之中,在那个可怕的黑夜里,至少杰克那一伙人当中有几个会躲在最安全的地方,在恐怖中挣扎着。 突然,从城堡岩高处传来了尖厉的问话声,那儿正在风化的岩互相依托,保持着平衡。 “站住!谁在那儿?” “罗杰。” “往前走,朋友。”罗杰往前走一点。 “你能认出我是谁。” “头领说了,无论谁都要盘问。”罗杰仰起脸仔细往上看。 “我要上来你可拦不住。” “我拦不住?那就等着瞧吧。” 罗杰爬上了梯子似的悬崖。 “瞧这个。”一根圆木被塞在了最高的一块岩石下,下面还有一根杠杆。 罗伯特将稍微倾斜的身子压在杠杆上,岩石发出轧轧的响声。 要是他用足力气这块岩石就会被隆隆地直送下隘口。 罗杰钦佩不已。 “他难道不是个真正的头领吗?”罗伯特直点头。 “我们要他带着去打猎。”罗伯特将头侧向远处窝棚时,看到一缕白烟冉冉升向空中。 罗杰坐在悬崖的边沿上,一面阴沉地往后看着这岛,一面用手指拨弄着那只松动了的牙齿。 他的目光在远山顶上驻足,没有接话。罗伯特转换话题。 “他要揍威尔弗雷德。” “为啥?”罗伯特晃了晃脑袋表示很疑惑。“我不知道。他没说。他发怒着,叫我们把威尔弗雷德捆起来。他已经被” ——罗伯特兴奋地格格笑起来——“已经把他捆了好几个钟头了,正等着——” “可头领没说过原因吗?” “我根本没有听他说过。”在酷热的阳光底下,罗杰坐在大岩石上,听到这个消息,一种预感突然从脑中迸发出来。 他停住拨弄自己的牙齿,仍然坐在那儿,寻思着这种不负责任的权威的将要带来的种种可能性。 随后,他一声不吭,从城堡岩背后往下,向岩穴和杰克一伙人所在的地方爬去。 头领正光着上身坐在那儿,脸上涂着红的和白的颜色。在他们的前面有一伙人成半圆形坐着。 刚被打过、已松了绑的威尔弗雷德在他们的后面正大声地抽噎。罗杰跟别人蹲坐在一起。 “明天,”头领继续说道,“我们又该打猎去了。”他用长矛指指这个野蛮人,又指指那个野蛮人。 “你们中的一部分人呆在这儿把岩穴弄好,严守大门。我要带几个猎手去打猎。守大门的人可得看着点,别让旁人鬼鬼祟祟地溜进来——” 一个野蛮人将手举起,头领把他那张阴冷的、涂着颜色的花脸转向他。 “头领,为什么他们不正大光明地进来呢?”头领回答得含糊不清,可态度倒挺认真。“他们会的。他们要破坏咱们所干的事情。所以一定要小心看守着大门,还有——”头领停住了。 他粉红色的舌尖令人吃惊地朝外伸出,舔了舔嘴唇,又缩了回去。这一连串的动作大伙都看到了。 “——还有,野兽也想要进来。你们该记得它是怎么爬的吧——”围成半圆的孩子们都惊恐不已,喃喃地一致表示同意。 “它化了装来的。即使咱们杀了猪,把猪头给它吃,它没准还会来。所以得提防着,得当心点。” 斯坦利将前臂从岩石上抬起来,将一根手指竖起,表示要发问。 “怎么啦?” “但咱们能不能,能不能——?”他犹豫不定地扭着身子,低着头往下面看。 “不!”紧接着寂静一片,野蛮人各自在回忆,都很害怕,不敢想下去。 “不!咱们怎么能——杀掉——它呢?”在联想还会再遇到种种恐怖时,他们一方面暂时得到了一点解脱,另一方面又感到一点震慑,这些野蛮人又嘀咕起来。 “别太在意山上的事了,”头领庄重地说道,“要是去打猎就把猪头献给它。” 斯坦利玩弄着手指又说:“我想野兽把它自己伪装了起来。” “这种可能性总有的,”头领说道。这是一种想当然的神学上的猜测。 “无论怎样,咱们还是要加强小心。吃不准它会干出什么事来。”那一伙人都细想着这话,随后打起战来,就象是吹过一阵烈风。头领的话产生了作用,猛地一站。 “但是明天我们将去打猎,弄到肉大家就好好美餐一顿——” 比尔举起了手。“头领。” “嗯?” “咱们怎样来取火呢?”头领的脸红了,但人们看不见他的脸色,因为脸在红的白的粘土的掩盖下。 他拿不准怎么回答是好,沉默了片刻,那伙人乘机又一次低声说起话来。随后头领举起了手。 “我们要想取火种就要从别处取。听着,明天我们去打猎,搞点肉。今天夜里我要跟两个猎手一起去——,谁乐意去?” 莫里斯和罗杰举了手。 “莫里斯——” “是,头领?” “什么地方有他们的火堆?” “在老地方,靠着生火堆那岩石的后面。”头领点点头。 “太阳一落你们其余的人就可以去睡觉。但我们三个,莫里斯,罗杰和我,还有事情等着我们去做。我们将要在太阳刚落山的时候出发——” 莫里斯举起手。“将要有什么事情要发生呢,要是我们碰上——” 头领挥挥手,对他提出的异议毫不理睬。“我们要直沿着沙滩走。这样,要是它来了,我们就又可跳我们的舞了。” “就靠我们三个吗?”又响起了一阵叽哩咕噜的声音,随之又变得寂静无声。 眼镜被猪崽子递给了拉尔夫,要等拿回来之后才能看得清东西。 柴火很潮湿,因此他们这已是第三次点火了。 拉尔夫往后一站,自言自语地说道:“火堆在夜里可不要再熄灭了。” 他内疚地望望站在身旁的三个孩子。 这是他第一次承认火堆具有双重功用。 的确,一方面火堆是为了使召唤的烟柱袅袅而升;但另一方面火堆也象一只火炉,能使他们有安全感并舒服地入睡。 埃里克往柴火上吹气,火光从柴堆上闪出来了,接着出现了一小簇火苗。一股黄白相间的浓烟向上散发。 猪崽子将自己的眼镜拿回来,高兴地看着烟柱。 “要是咱们能做个无线电收发机该多好啊!” “或者造一架飞机——” “——或者一艘船。”对于这个世界的认识拉尔夫显得越来越淡薄,但他还是竭力地思考着。 “说不定红种人会把咱们抓住让咱们当俘虏。”埃里克往脑后捋着头发。 “他们也总比那个好,比——”他没有说出这个人是谁,萨姆朝沿海的方向点点头,算是代他说完了这句话。 拉尔夫把那个在降落伞下的丑陋的人形记起来。 “他讲起过死人什么的——”拉尔夫痛苦地涨红了脸,这一下他等于不打自招,跳舞时他也在场。 他身子冲着烟做出催促的动作。 “别停下——往上加!” “烟越来越淡了。” “咱们还需要很多的柴火,即使是湿的也可以。” “我的气喘病——”得到的是冷漠的回答。“去你的气喘病。” “要是我跑东跑西地去拉木头,气喘病就会犯得更厉害。我希望不犯,拉尔夫,可就是要犯。” 三个孩子走进了森林,带回了一抱抱枯枝烂木。 烟再次升了起来,又黄又浓。 “咱们应该去找吃的了。”他们带着长矛一块儿走到了野果树林,不再多说话,就狼吞虎咽地吃起来。待他们走出树林时,夕阳西下,只有余烬发出一些光,但是烟却已经没有了。 “我再也搬不动柴火了,”埃里克说。“我累了。” 拉尔夫清清嗓子。 “在那上面咱们维持着火堆。” “山上的火堆小,这也许是个大火堆呢。” 一片木柴被拉尔夫丢到火堆里,注视着飘向暮色之中的烟。 “咱们一定要使烟老飘着。 ”埃里克纵身往地上一趴。“我太累了,再说什么也没有用了。” “埃里克!”拉尔夫惊讶地叫喊道。“别那样瞎说!” 萨姆跪在埃里克身边。“嗯——那又有什么用呢?” 拉尔夫气得火冒三丈,他使劲儿回想着,火堆是有用处的,有着某种绝妙而又无法形容的用处。 “拉尔夫跟你们讲过很多次了,”猪崽子不快地说道。“除此之外咱们怎么才能得救呢?” “当然罗!要是咱们不去生烟——”在浓黑的暮色当中,拉尔夫蹲坐在他们面前。“你们难道不明白?光想着收发机和船有啥用?” 他伸出一只手,手指捏紧,攥成一个拳头。“要从这种混乱中解脱出来,咱们只有一件事可做。谁都可以拿打猎当游戏,谁都可以替咱们搞到肉——”拉尔夫左右环看着每张脸孔。 他激动不已,非常自信,然而脑中却垂下了一道帘幕,一时想不起自己是在讲些什么。他跪在那儿,紧攥拳头,板着面孔,左右环看着每张脸孔。随后帘幕又忽然收回了。 “噢,对了。所以咱们一定要生火并弄出烟来,更多的烟——” “但是咱们没法让火堆一直维持着!看那边!”他们说话的时候,火堆正在慢慢地熄灭。 “有两个人负责管火,”拉尔夫有点象是自言自语地说道,“每天十二个小时。” “拉尔夫,咱们弄不到更多的柴火了——” “——在黑暗中弄不到柴火——” “——在夜里弄不到柴火——” “咱们可以每天早晨点火,”猪崽子说。 “没有人会在黑暗里看见烟。”萨姆猛地点头。 “那可不一样,火堆在——” “——在那上面。”拉尔夫站了起来,随着暮色逐渐加重,他产生了一种奇怪的失去防护的感觉。 “今儿晚上就由着火堆自己去燃吧。”他带头走向第一个窝棚,窝棚虽然东倒西歪,还算竖立着。 枯树叶铺在里面用来睡觉,摸上去作声。有个小家伙在邻近的窝棚里说梦话。 四个大家伙爬进了窝棚,钻在树叶下面。 双胞胎躺在一块儿睡在一头,拉尔夫和猪崽子躺在另一头。他们尽量想睡得舒服点,所以将枯叶堆弄得地响了好一阵子。 “猪崽子。” “哎?” “好吗?” “还好。”后来,除了偶而的声外,窝棚最后平静了下来。 那繁星闪烁的椭圆形夜空,在他们面前挂着,此外还传来了一阵阵浪拍礁石的空洞的响声。 拉尔夫定下心来作各种各样的假设,就象他每天夜里所做的那样……假定喷气机将他们送回家,那么在早晨之前他们就会在威尔特郡的大机场着陆。 他们将再乘汽车,不,要更完美点他们将乘火车,直下德文,最后到达那所村舍去。 那时候,野生的小马又会跑到花园的尽头来,在围墙上窥探着…… 拉尔夫在枯叶堆中辗转反侧。 达特穆尔一片荒芜,小马也是野生的。 但是荒野的魅力却已经消失殆尽。 他的思想又滑到了一个不容野蛮人插足的平凡的文明小镇。 更安全的地方要算是带车灯和车轮的公共汽车总站了。 拉尔夫好象突然绕着电杆跳起了舞。 这时从车站里缓缓地爬出了一辆公共汽车,一辆样子古怪的汽车…… “拉尔夫!拉尔夫!” “怎么啦?” “别那样大声折腾——” “对不起。”一种令人生畏的呜咽声从窝棚的黑漆漆的另一头传来了。 树叶被吓坏了的他们俩乱扯乱拉。萨姆和埃里克互相紧抱着,正在对打。 “萨姆!萨姆!” “嘿——埃里克!”片刻一切又都平静下来。 猪崽子悄悄地对拉尔夫说:“咱们一定要从这个地方脱身出来。” “这话怎么讲?” “要得救。” 尽管夜色更加黑暗,拉尔夫却傻傻地笑了起来,这是那一天他第一次笑。 “我是想说,”猪崽子低声说道。“咱们得赶快回家要不都会发疯的。” “神经错乱。” “疯疯癫癫。” “发狂。” 湿漉漉的卷发被拉尔夫从眼边撩开。“给你姨妈写封信。” 猪崽子严肃地考虑着这个建议。“我不知道此刻她在哪儿。我没有信封,没有邮票。再说既没有邮箱,也没有邮递员。”拉尔夫被猪崽子小小的玩笑成功地征服了。 拉尔夫的窃笑变得不可控制,他前仰后倒地大笑起来。 猪崽子正经地指责他。“我可没说什么,有那么好笑——”胸口都笑痛了的拉尔夫还吃吃地笑个不停。 他扭来扭去,终于精疲力竭、气喘吁吁地躺下,愁眉苦脸地等着下一次发作。 他这样时笑时停,随后在一次间歇中倒头便睡。 “——拉尔夫!你又闹了一阵。安静点吧,拉尔夫——因为……”在枯叶堆中拉尔夫喘着粗气。 美梦被打破了但他有理由为此而欣慰,因为随着公共汽车的渐渐靠近,已变得更加清晰了。 “为什么——因为?” “静一点——听。”拉尔夫小心地躺了下去,一声长叹从枯叶堆中发出了。 埃里克呜咽地说着什么,接着又静静地睡着了。 除了无济于事的闪着微光的椭圆星群外,夜色黑沉沉的,象蒙上了一层毯子。 “我听不到任何声音。” “有什么东西在外面移动。”拉尔夫的脑袋瓜象被针刺似的痛起来。 热血沸腾,使他什么也听不见,接着又安静下来。 “我还是什么也没听见。” “听,再多听一会儿。”从窝棚后面只有一二码处的地方,树枝被折断的咔嚓声,非常清晰有力地传来了。 拉尔夫又觉得耳朵发热,模模糊糊的形象你追我赶地穿过了他的脑海。 这些杂乱的东西正绕着窝棚潜行。 他觉察到猪崽子的手紧紧地抓住他并将脑袋靠在他的肩上。 “拉尔夫!拉尔夫!” “别讲话,快听。”在绝望之中拉尔夫祈求野兽宁可选择小家伙。 恐怖的耳语声在窝棚外面响起了。 “猪崽子——猪崽子——” “它来了!”猪崽子气急败坏地说。“是真的!” 拉尔夫被他紧紧抓住,终于使自己的呼吸恢复了正常。 “猪崽子,出来。我要你猪崽子出来。” 猪崽子的耳朵被拉尔夫的嘴巴贴着。 “别吱声。” “猪崽子——猪崽子,你在哪儿?” 好象有东西擦到窝棚的后部。 猪崽子又强忍了一阵子,随即他的气喘病发作了。 他弓着后背,双腿砰地砸到枯叶堆里。 拉尔夫在他的身边滚过去。 接着在窝棚口发出了一阵恶意的嚎叫,几个活东西猛地闯将进来。 有的绊倒在拉尔夫和猪崽子的身上,结果乱成一团:又是哇哇乱叫,又是拳打脚踢,一片热热闹闹。 拉尔夫挥拳出去,随之他跟似乎十几个别的东西扭住滚来滚去:打着、咬着、抓着。 拉尔夫被撕拉着,被人猛击,他觉察口中有别人的手指,便一口咬下去。 一只拳头缩了回去,又象活塞似的回击过来,整个窝棚被捅得摇摇欲坠,外面的光漏到了里面来。 身子被拉尔夫扭向一边,骑到一个七扭八歪的身体上,意识到有股热气喷上了他的脸颊。 他抡起紧握的拳头,象铁锤似的砸向身子下面的嘴巴,他挥拳猛打,越打越狂热,越打越歇斯底里,拳下的面孔变得滑腻起来。 谁的膝盖在拉尔夫两腿当中被猛地向上一顶,拉尔夫翻滚到一侧,他忙抚摸着自己的痛处,可对方又滚压到他身上乱打。 然后窝棚令人窒息地终于倒塌下来;不知名的这些人挣扎着择路而逃。 黑乎乎的人影从倒塌的窝棚中钻了出来,飞快地逃去,临末又可以听见小家伙们的尖号声和猪崽子的喘气声了。 拉尔夫用颤抖的声音喊道:“小家伙们,你们快去睡。我们在跟别人打架,马上睡吧。” 萨姆纳里克盯着拉尔夫走近来。“你们俩没事?” “我想没事——” “——我被人打了。” “我也被打了,猪崽子怎么样?” 猪崽子被他们从废墟堆中拖出来,让他靠在一棵树上。 夜是冷嗖嗖的,恐怖渐渐消失了。猪崽子的呼吸也平静了一些。 “猪崽子,你受伤了吗?” “还好。” “那是杰克和他的猎手们,”拉尔夫苦恼地说。“为什么咱们总是被打扰呢?” “他们应该得到我的教训,”萨姆说。 他人老实,接着又说。“至少你们打了,我一个人缩在角落里。” “我把一个家伙揍了,”拉尔夫说,“他被我砸得够呛,他不会再赶着来跟咱们干一仗了。” “我也是,”埃里克说。“我觉得在我醒来时有人踏着我的脸。拉尔夫,我觉得我的脸上被踢得一塌糊涂,但我毕竟也把他给揍了。” “你怎么干的?” “我缩紧膝盖,”埃里克扬扬得意地说道,“我用膝盖猛顶了一下他的卵蛋。你能听到他痛苦的乱叫声!他也不会再忙着赶回来了。咱们干得不赖呀。” 在黑暗中拉尔夫蓦地动了动,可随之他听到埃里克用手在嘴里拨弄的声音。 “怎么啦?” “一颗牙齿有点松动。” 猪崽子曲起两条腿。“猪崽子,你没事吧?” “我想他们是要抢海螺。” 拉尔夫快步跑下了灰白色的海滩,跳到了平台上。 在头儿座位上的海螺仍在微微发光。 他盯着看了一会儿,随后又返回猪崽子跟前。 “海螺并没有被他们拿走。” “我明白,他们是为了别的东西,而不是为海螺而来的。拉尔夫——我该怎么办呢?” 沿着弓形的海滩,远远的地方,三个人影快步走向城堡岩。 他们避开树林,沿着海边往前走。 他们一会儿轻轻地唱着歌;一会儿沿着移动着的狭长的磷光带横翻着筋斗往前走。 头领领着他们,一直小跑地向前进,成功的喜悦在杰克心头浮现。 现在他真正是个头领了,他手持长矛东戳戳西刺刺。 悬挂在他左手摇晃着的,是猪崽子破碎了的眼镜。 Chapter 11 Castle Rock   In the short chill of dawn the four boys gathered round the black smudge where the fire had been, while Ralph knelt and blew. Grey, feathery ashes scurried hither and thither at his breath but no spark shone among them. The twins watched anxiously and Piggy sat expressionless behind the luminous wall of his myopia. Ralph continued to blow till his ears were singing with the effort, but then the first breeze of dawn took the job off his hands and blinded him with ashes. He squatted back, swore, and rubbed water out of his eyes.   "No use."   Eric looked down at him through a mask of dried blood. Piggy peered in the general direction of Ralph.   " 'Course it's no use, Ralph. Now we got no fire."   Ralph brought his face within a couple of feet of Piggy's.   "Can you see me?"   "A bit."   Ralph allowed the swollen flap of his cheek to close his eye again.   "They've got our fire."   Rage shrilled his voice.   "They stole it!"   "That's them," said Piggy. "They blinded me. See? That's Jack Merridew. You call an assembly, Ralph, we got to decide what to do."   "An assembly for only us?"   "It's all we got. Sam--let me hold on to you."   They went toward the platform.   "Blow the conch," said Piggy. "Blow as loud as you can."   The forests re-echoed; and birds lifted, crying out of the treetops, as on that first morning ages ago. Both ways the beach was deserted. Some littluns came from the shelters. Ralph sat down on the polished trunk and the three others stood before him. He nodded, and Samneric sat down on the right. Ralph pushed the conch into Piggy's hands. He held the shining thing carefully and blinked at Ralph.   "Go on, then."   "I just take the conch to say this. I can't see no more and I got to get my glasses back. Awful things has been done on this island. I voted for you for chief. He's the only one who ever got anything done. So now you speak, Ralph, and tell us what. Or else--"   Piggy broke off, sniveling. Ralph took back the conch as he sat down.   "Just an ordinary fire. You'd think we could do that, wouldn't you? Just a smoke signal so we can be rescued. Are we savages or what? Only now there's no signal going up. Ships may be passing. Do you remember how he went hunting and the fire went out and a ship passed by? And they all think he's best as chief. Then there was, there was . . . that's his fault, too. If it hadn't been for him it would never have happened. Now Piggy can't see, and they came, stealing--" Ralph's voice ran up "--at night, in darkness, and stole our fire. They stole it. We'd have given them fire if they'd asked. But they stole it and the signal's out and we can't ever be rescued. Don't you see what I mean? We'd have given them fire for themselves only they stole it. I--"   He paused lamely as the curtain flickered in his brain. Piggy held out his hands for the conch.   "What you goin' to do, Ralph? This is jus' talk without deciding. I want my glasses."   "I'm trying to think. Supposing we go, looking like we used to, washed and hair brushed--after all we aren't savages really and being rescued isn't a game--"   He opened the flap of his cheek and looked at the twins.   "We could smarten up a bit and then go--"   "We ought to take spears," said Sam. "Even Piggy."   "--because we may need them."   "You haven't got the conch!"   Piggy held up the shell.   "You can take spears if you want but I shan't. What's the good? I'll have to be led like a dog, anyhow. Yes, laugh. Go on, laugh. There's them on this island as would laugh at anything. And what happened? What's grownups goin' to think? Young Simon was murdered. And there was that other kid what had a mark on his face.   Who's seen him since we first come here?"   "Piggy! Stop a minute!"   "I got the conch. I'm going to that Jack Merridew an' tell him, I am."   "You'll get hurt."   "What can he do more than he has? I'll tell him what's what. You let me carry the conch, Ralph. I'll show him the one thing he hasn't got."   Piggy paused for a moment and peered round at the dim figures. The shape of the old assembly, trodden in the grass, listened to him.   "I'm going to him with this conch in my hands. I'm going to hold it out. Look, I'm goin' to say, you're stronger than I am and you haven't got asthma. You can see, I'm goin' to say, and with both eyes. But I don't ask for my glasses back, not as a favor. I don't ask you to be a sport, I'll say, not because you're strong, but because what's right's right. Give me my glasses, I'm going to say--you got to!"   Piggy ended, flushed and trembling. He pushed the conch quickly into Ralph's hands as though in a hurry to be rid of it and wiped the tears from his eyes. The green light was gentle about them and the conch lay at Ralph's feet, fragile and white. A single drop of water that had escaped Piggy's fingers now flashed on the delicate curve like a star.   At last Ralph sat up straight and drew back his hair.   "All right. I mean--you can try if you like. We'll go with you."   "He'll be painted," said Sam, timidly. "You know how he'll be--"   "--he won't think much of us--"   "--if he gets waxy we've had it--"   Ralph scowled at Sam. Dimly he remembered something Simon had said to him once, by the rocks.   "Don't be silly," he said. And then he added quickly, "Let's go."   He held out the conch to Piggy who flushed, this time with pride.   "You must carry it."   "When we're ready I'll carry it--"   Piggy sought in his mind for words to convey his passionate willingness to carry the conch against all odds.   "I don't mind. I'll be glad, Ralph, only I'll have to be led."   Ralph put the conch back on the shining log.   "We better eat and then get ready."   They made their way to the devastated fruit trees. Piggy was helped to his food and found some by touch. While they ate, Ralph thought of the afternoon.   "We'll be like we were. We'll wash--"   Sam gulped down a mouthful and protested.   "But we bathe every day!"   Ralph looked at the filthy objects before him and sighed.   "We ought to comb our hair. Only it's too long."   "I've got both socks left in the shelter," said Eric, "so we could pull them over our heads like caps, sort of."   "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 his head and glimpsed Roger's dark face at the top.   "You can see who I am!" he shouted. "Stop being silly!"   He put the conch to his lips and began to blow. Savages appeared, painted out of recognition, edging round the ledge toward the neck. They carried spears and disposed themselves to defend the entrance. Ralph went on blowing and ignored Piggy's terrors.   Roger was shouting.   "You mind out--see?"   At length Ralph took his lips away and paused to get his breath back. His first words were a gasp, but audible.   "--calling an assembly."   The savages guarding the neck muttered among themselves but made no motion. Ralph walked forwards a couple of steps. A voice whispered urgently behind him.   "Don't leave me, Ralph."   "You kneel down," said Ralph sideways, "and wait till I come back."   He stood halfway along the neck and gazed at the savages intently. Freed by the paint, they had tied their hair back and were more comfortable than he was. Ralph made a resolution to tie his own back afterwards. Indeed he felt like telling them to wait and doing it there and then; but that was impossible. The savages sniggered a bit and one gestured at Ralph with his spear. High above, Roger took his hands off the lever and leaned out to see what was going on. The boys on the neck stood in a pool of their own shadow, diminished to shaggy heads. Piggy crouched, his back shapeless as a sack.   "I'm calling an assembly."   Silence.   Roger took up a small stone and flung it between the twins, aiming to miss. They started and Sam only just kept his footing. Some source of power began to pulse in Roger's body.   Ralph spoke again, loudly.   "I'm calling an assembly."   He ran his eye over them.   "Where's Jack?"   The group of boys stirred and consulted. A painted face spoke with the voice of Robert.   "He's hunting. And he said we weren't to let you in."   "I've come to see about the fire," said Ralph, "and about Piggy's specs."   The group in front of him shifted and laughter shivered outwards from among them, light, excited laughter that went echoing among the tall rocks.   A voice spoke from behind Ralph.   "What do you want?"   The twins made a bolt past Ralph and got between him and the entry. He turned quickly. Jack, identifiable by personality and red hair, was advancing from the forest. A hunter crouched on either side. All three were masked in black and green. Behind them on the grass the headless and paunched body of a sow lay where they had dropped it.   Piggy wailed.   "Ralph! Don't leave me!"   With ludicrous care he embraced the rock, pressing himself to it above the sucking sea. The sniggering of the savages became a loud derisive jeer.   Jack shouted above the noise.   "You go away, Ralph. You keep to your end. This is my end and my tribe. You leave me alone."   The jeering died away.   "You pinched Piggy's specs," said Ralph, breathlessly. "You've got to give them back."   "Got to? Who says?"   Ralph's temper blazed out.   "I say! You voted for me for chief. Didn't you hear the conch? You played a dirty trick--we'd have given you fire if you'd asked for it--"   The blood was flowing in his cheeks and the bunged-up eye throbbed.   "You could have had fire whenever you wanted. But you didn't. You came sneaking up like a thief and stole Piggy's glasses!"   "Say that again!"   "Thief! Thief!"   Piggy screamed.   "Ralph! Mind me!"   Jack made a rush and stabbed at Ralph's chest with his spear. Ralph sensed the position of the weapon from the glimpse he caught of Jack's arm and put the thrust aside with his own butt. Then he brought the end round and caught Jack a stinger across the ear. They were chest to chest, breathing fiercely, pushing and glaring.   "Who's a thief?"   "You are!"   Jack wrenched free and swung at Ralph with his spear. By common consent they were using the spears as sabers now, no longer daring the lethal points. The blow struck Ralph's spear and slid down, to fall agonizingly on his fingers. Then they were apart once more, their positions reversed, Jack toward the Castle Rock and Ralph on the outside toward the island.   Both boys were breathing very heavily.   "Come on then--"   "Come on--"   Truculently they squared up to each other but kept just out of fighting distance.   "You come on and see what you get!"   "You come on--"   Piggy clutching the ground was trying to attract Ralph's attention. Ralph moved, bent down, kept a wary eye on Jack.   "Ralph--remember what we came for. The fire. My specs."   Ralph nodded. He relaxed his fighting muscles, stood easily and grounded the butt of his spear. Jack watched him inscrutably through his paint. Ralph glanced up at the pinnacles, then toward the group of savages.   "Listen. We've come to say this. First you've got to give back Piggy's specs. If he hasn't got them he can't see. You aren't playing the game--"   The tribe of painted savages giggled and Ralph's mind faltered. He pushed his hair up and gazed at the green and black mask before him, trying to remember what Jack looked like.   Piggy whispered.   "And the fire."   "Oh yes. Then about the fire. I say this again. I've been saying it ever since we dropped in."   He held out his spear and pointed at the savages. "Your only hope is keeping a signal fire going as long as there's light to see. Then maybe a ship'll notice the smoke and come and rescue us and take us home. But without that smoke we've got to wait till some ship comes by accident. We might wait years; till we were old--"   The shivering, silvery, unreal laughter of the savages sprayed out and echoed away. A gust of rage shook Ralph. His voice cracked.   "Don't you understand, you painted fools? Sam, Eric, Piggy and me--we aren't enough. We tried to keep the fire going, but we couldn't. And then you, playing at hunting. . . ."   He pointed past them to where the trickle of smoke dispersed in the pearly air.   "Look at that! Call that a signal fire? That's a cooking fire. Now you'll eat and there'll be no smoke. Don't you understand? There may be a ship out there--"   He paused, defeated by the silence and the painted anonymity of the group guarding the entry. Jack opened a pink mouth and addressed Samneric, who were between him and his tribe.   "You two. Get back."   No one answered him. The twins, puzzled, looked at each other; while Piggy, reassured by the cessation of violence, stood up carefully. Jack glanced back at Ralph and then at the twins.   "Grab them!"   No one moved. Jack shouted angrily.   "I said 'grab them'!"   The painted group moved round Samneric nervously and unhandily. Once more the silvery laughter scattered.   Samneric protested out of the heart of civilization.   "Oh, I say!"   "--honestly!"   Their spears were taken from them.   "Tie them up!"   Ralph cried out hopelessly against the black and green mask.   "Jack!"   "Go on. Tie them."   Now the painted group felt the otherness of Samneric, felt the power in their own hands. They felled the twins clumsily and excitedly. Jack was inspired. He knew that Ralph would attempt a rescue. He struck in a humming circle behind him and Ralph only just parried the blow. Beyond them the tribe and the twins were a loud and writhing heap. Piggy crouched again. Then the twins lay, astonished, and the tribe stood round them. Jack turned to Ralph and spoke between his teeth.   "See? They do what I want."   There was silence again. The twins lay, inexpertly tied up, and the tribe watched Ralph to see what he would do. He numbered them through his fringe, glimpsed the ineffectual smoke.   His temper broke. He screamed at Jack.   "You're a beast and a swine and a bloody, bloody thief!"   He charged.   Jack, knowing this was the crisis, charged too. They met with a jolt and bounced apart. Jack swung with his fist at Ralph and caught him on the ear. Ralph hit Jack in the stomach and made him grunt. Then they were facing each other again, panting and furious, but unnerved by each other's ferocity. They became aware of the noise that was the background to this fight, the steady shrill cheering of the tribe behind them.   Piggy's voice penetrated to Ralph.   "Let me speak."   He was standing in the dust of the fight, and as the tribe saw his intention the shrill cheer changed to a steady booing.   Piggy held up the conch and the booing sagged a little, then came up again to strength.   "I got the conch!"   He shouted.   "I tell you, I got the conch!"   Surprisingly, there was silence now; the tribe were curious to hear what amusing thing he might have to say.   Silence and pause; but in the silence a curious air-noise, close by Ralph's head. He gave it half his attention--and there it was again; a faint "Zup!" Someone was throwing stones: Roger was dropping them, his one hand still on the lever. Below him, Ralph was a shock of hair and Piggy a bag of fat.   "I got this to say. You're acting like a crowd of kids." The booing rose and died again as Piggy lifted the white, magic shell.   "Which is better--to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?"   A great clamor rose among the savages. Piggy shouted again.   "Which is better--to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?"   Again the clamor and again--"Zup!"   Ralph shouted against the noise.   "Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?"   Now Jack was yelling too and Ralph could no longer make himself heard. Jack had backed right against the tribe and they were a solid mass of menace that bristled with spears. The intention of a charge was forming among them; they were working up to it and the neck would be swept clear. Ralph stood facing them, a little to one side, his spear ready. By him stood Piggy still holding out the talisman, the fragile, shining beauty of the shell. The storm of sound beat at them, an incantation of hatred. High overhead, Roger, with a sense of delirious abandonment, leaned all his weight on the lever.   Ralph heard the great rock before he saw it. He was aware of a jolt in the earth that came to him through the soles of his feet, and the breaking sound of stones at the top of the cliff. Then the monstrous red thing bounded across the neck and he flung himself flat while the tribe shrieked.   The rock struck Piggy a glancing blow from chin to knee; the conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist. Piggy, saying nothing, with no time for even a grunt, traveled through the air sideways from the rock, turning over as he went. The rock bounded twice and was lost in the forest. Piggy fell forty feet and landed on his back across the square red rock in the sea. His head opened and stuff came out and turned red. Piggy's arms and legs twitched a bit, like a pig's after it has been killed. Then the sea breathed again in a long, slow sigh, the water boiled white and pink over the rock; and when it went, sucking back again, the body of Piggy was gone.   This time the silence was complete. Ralph's lips formed a word but no sound came.   Suddenly Jack bounded out from the tribe and began screaming wildly.   "See? See? That's what you'll get! I meant that! There isn't a tribe for you any more! The conch is gone--"   He ran forward, stooping.   "I'm chief!"   Viciously, with full intention, he hurled his spear at Ralph. The point tore the skin and flesh over Ralph's ribs, then sheared off and fell in the water. Ralph stumbled, feeling not pain but panic, and the tribe, screaming now like the chief, began to advance. Another spear, a bent one that would not fly straight, went past his face and one fell from on high where Roger was. The twins lay hidden behind the tribe and the anonymous devils' faces swarmed across the neck. Ralph turned and ran. A great noise as of sea gulls rose behind him. He obeyed an instinct that he did not know he possessed and swerved over the open space so that the spears went wide. He saw the headless body of the sow and jumped in time. Then he was crashing through foliage and small boughs and was hidden by the forest.   The chief stopped by the pig, turned and held up his hands.   "Back! Back to the fort!"   Presently the tribe returned noisily to the neck where Roger joined them.   The chief spoke to him angrily.   "Why aren't you on watch?"   Roger looked at him gravely.   "I just came down--"   The hangman's horror clung round him. The chief said no more to him but looked down at Samneric.   "You got to join the tribe."   "You lemme go--"   "--and me."   The chief snatched one of the few spears that were left and poked Sam in the ribs.   "What d'you mean by it, eh?" said the chief fiercely. "What d'you mean by coming with spears? What d'you mean by not joining my tribe?"   The prodding became rhythmic. Sam yelled.   "That's not the way."   Roger edged past the chief, only just avoiding pushing him with his shoulder. The yelling ceased, and Samneric lay looking up in quiet terror. Roger advanced upon them as one wielding a nameless authority. 第十一章 城堡岩 在短暂的寒冷带来的黎明中,四个孩子围聚在拉尔夫正跪在地上吹着的原本是火堆,现在已是黑色余烬的四周。 他把灰色的轻微的烟尘吹得四处飞扬,可是没有火花从中闪现出来。 双胞胎急切地注视着,猪崽子则木然地坐着,他近视的眼睛,就象在他面前竖着一道发光的墙。 拉尔夫还在不停地吹,吹得耳朵嗡嗡直响,可是,黎明的第一股微风一下子夺走了他手中的活儿,他的眼睛被烟灰迷住了。 他往后蹲了蹲,边骂边擦去眼里流出的泪水。 “没用呀。”埃里克脸上血迹干了,活象个假面具,他好象透过假面具俯看着拉尔夫。 猪崽子朝大概是拉尔夫的方向凝视着。 “当然没用,拉尔夫。这下咱们可没火了。” 在离猪崽子的脸约两英尺的距离,拉尔夫将脸转向了他。“你看得见我吗?” “可以看到一点。”拉尔夫把肿起的脸颊凑近猪崽子的眼睛。 “咱们的火种被他们夺走了。”由于愤怒,他的声音变得尖起来。 “是他们偷走的!” “是他们,”猪崽子说。“我被他们弄得象个瞎子。看见没有?那就是杰克•梅瑞狄。拉尔夫,你召开个大会,咱们一定要对下一步做个决定。” “就咱们这些人开大会吗?” “咱们都来参加。萨姆——让我搭着你。”他们朝平台走去。 “吹海螺,”猪崽子说。“吹得越响越好。”号声回荡在森林中;成群的鸟儿被惊吓得从树梢上飞起来,叽喳地鸣叫着,就象很久以前的那一个早晨。 海滩两头悄无声息。从窝棚里走出来一些小家伙。拉尔夫坐在光光的树干上,其余三个站在他面前。 他点点头,萨姆纳里克就坐在他右边。 海螺被拉尔夫塞到猪崽子手中。 猪崽子小心翼翼地捧着闪闪发光的海螺,朝拉尔夫眨着眼睛。 “那就说吧。” “我拿了海螺,我要说,我得把眼镜找回来,要不然,我啥也看不清。这个岛上有人干了坏透的事情。我选你当头头。只有拉尔夫还算替大家干了点事情。拉尔夫,这下你说吧,告诉我们怎么办——,不然——”猪崽子突然停止讲话,啜泣起来。 他坐下去的时候,海螺被拉尔夫拿了回来。“就只是一个极普通的火堆。你们不认为咱们能做成这件事吗?只要有烟作为信号,咱们一定能得救。咱们是野蛮人吗?还是什么别的东西?只是眼下没信号烟升到空中去。也许有船正在过去。你们一定还记得那件事吧。他们认为他是当头领最好的料的那个人是怎么跑去打猎,火堆是怎么灭的。接着又是,又是……那也全是他的过错。要不是因为他,那件事一定不会发生。这下猪崽子什么也看不见了,他们跑来,偷走——”拉尔夫提高了嗓门。“——在夜里,在黑暗中,偷走了咱们的火种。如果他们跟咱们讨火种,咱们也许会给,可是现在却偷了咱们的火种。咱们这下无法得救了,因为信号没有了。你们明白我的意思吗?咱们会给他们火种的,可他们就是来偷。我——” 这时拉尔夫脑中晃过一道帘幕将他的话给打断了。 猪崽子伸出双手来拿海螺。 “拉尔夫,咱们别光在这儿说,你想怎么办,赶快做决定。我要讨还眼镜哪。” “我正在考虑。如果咱们去,就象以前那样把头发理理,洗洗干净再去——说真的,咱们毕竟不是野蛮人,而得救也不是闹着玩的——”他鼓起脸颊看着双胞胎。“咱们打扮之后就走——” “咱们该带着长矛,”萨姆说。“连猪崽子也要带。” “——因为咱们或许用得着。” “你没拿到海螺!”猪崽子举起了海螺。“带长矛有什么用?要带你们带,我可不带。横竖我还得象条狗似的要有人牵着。是呀,好笑。笑吧,笑吧。这个岛上他们那伙对什么东西都好笑。大人们会怎么想呢?可结果怎么样呢?小西蒙被谋害了。除了咱们刚到这儿那一阵子,以后还有谁看见过那个脸上带胎记的小孩儿呢?” “猪崽子!停一停!” “我拿着海螺。我要去找那个杰克•梅瑞狄,我现在就去并告诉他。” “他们会伤害你的。” “看他能把我怎样?他已经做得够损了,我要跟他讲个明白。拉尔夫,你们让我拿着海螺。有一样东西是他所没有的,这一点我一定要让他瞧瞧。” 猪崽子停了片刻,去看那些暗淡的人影。 野草被踩得乱糟糟的,还象过去开大会的样子,还象有那么些人在听他演讲。 “我要去找他,将用双手捧着这只海螺向他一伸。我要说,瞧,你身体比我壮,你没生气喘病。我要说,你看得见东西,两只眼睛都好。可我来这儿,不是乞求眼镜也不是乞求开恩。我要说,我不是来求你讲公道的,不要因为你强就可以想干什么就干什么,有理才能走遍天下。把眼镜还我,我要说——你一定得还!”猪崽子打着哆嗦、红着脸将这话说完。 他好像急着要摆脱它似的,边将海螺匆匆交给拉尔夫,边揩擦着夺眶而出的泪水。 他们四周的绿光是柔和的。 拉尔夫脚下放着易碎的、白色的海螺。从猪崽子手指缝里漏出,就象一颗星星在色泽柔和的海螺曲面上一闪一亮的一粒泪珠。 最后拉尔夫把头发往后一捋,坐直了身子。 “好吧。我说——你要这样就试试吧。我们跟你一起去。” “他会涂成个大花脸,”萨姆害怕地说。“你知道他会——” “——他才不会看重咱们呢——” “——要是他发了火咱们可就——” 萨姆被拉尔夫怒视着。他模模糊糊想起,西蒙曾经在岩石旁跟他讲过什么话来。 “别傻乎乎的,”他说。随后又迅速地补了一句,“咱们这就走。” 海螺被他递到了猪崽子手里,后者脸又红了,这次洋溢着自豪的神色。 “你一定得拿着。” “准备好了我就拿着——”猪崽子想找些话来表达自己的热情,以显示他非常乐意拿着海螺来对抗一切可能发生的事情。“——我随便。我很高兴,拉尔夫,只是我要有人牵着。” 海螺被拉尔夫放回到闪光的圆木上。“咱们最好吃点什么,将一切都准备妥当。” 他们朝被弄得乱七八糟的野果树林走去。猪崽子有时靠别人帮忙,有时靠自己东摸西摸找点吃的。他们吃着野果,拉尔夫想起了下午。 “咱们该象以前一样,先洗洗——” 萨姆将野果整个吞下,表示异议。“可咱们天天都洗澡哪!” 两个肮脏的人被看在拉尔夫眼里,叹了口气。“咱们该梳梳头发,因为头发太长。” “两只袜子被我留在窝棚里了,”埃里克说,“咱们可以把袜子套在头上,就当做是一种帽子。” “咱们可以找样东西,”猪崽子说,“把你们的头发往后扎起来。” “象个小姑娘!” “不象,这怎么象呢。” “咱们就这样去,”拉尔夫说,“他们的样子也没好多少。” 埃里克做了个手势,表示放慢速度。“可他们涂成大花脸!你们明白这是什么意思——” 其他的人不断点头。他们太明白不过了,使人隐藏起真相的涂脸带来的是野性的大发作。“哼,咱们可不乱涂,”拉尔夫说,“因为咱们不是野蛮人。” 萨姆纳里克兄弟俩你看我,我看你。“反正都一样——”拉尔夫喊道:“谁敢涂!”他使劲儿回想起。 “烟,”他说,“烟是咱们最需要的。” 他凶巴巴地转向双胞胎。“我说‘烟’!咱们不能缺了烟。” 除了大群蜜蜂的嗡嗡声响外,此刻寂静一片。 猪崽子最后温和地说了起来:“咱们当然得生烟。因为烟是信号,要是没烟咱们就不可能得救。” “我知道这话!”拉尔夫叫喊道。手膀被他从猪崽子身上挪开。 “你是在提醒——” “我说的是你常说的话,”猪崽子匆匆地说。“我也会想一想——” “我可不用想,”拉尔夫大声吼道。“我不会忘的,我一直记着这话。” 猪崽子讨好地直点着脑袋瓜。“拉尔夫,你是头头,你什么都记得。” “我记得。” “当然记得。” 双胞胎奇怪地打量着拉尔夫,他们俩似乎是第一次看见他。 他们排好队沿着海滩出发了。 拉尔夫脚有点儿跛,但仍走在前面,肩上扛着长矛。 他透过闪光的沙滩上颤抖着的暑热烟雾和自己披散的长发,越过手臂上的伤痕,没有彻底看清前面的东西。 走在拉尔夫后面的是双胞胎,眼下有一点儿担忧,但仍生机勃勃。他们往前走着,不常说话,只是把木头长矛的柄拖在地上;猪崽子发现,低头看着地上,使自己已经疲劳的眼睛避开阳光,他能看见长矛柄沿着沙滩往前移动。 他在拖动着的长矛柄之间走着,双手小心地抱着海螺。 由这些孩子们组成的这个精干的小队伍行进在海滩上,四个盘子似的人影交迭在一起在他们脚下跳舞。 暴风雨没有留下丝毫痕迹,海滩被冲刷得干干净净,就象被擦得锃亮的刀片。 天空和山岭离得远远的,在暑热中闪着微光;礁石被蜃景抬高了,好象是飘浮在半空中一汪银光闪闪的水潭中。 他们经过那一伙人跳过舞的地方。在岩石上有被大雨所扑灭的烧焦的枝条,只是海水边的沙滩又成了平滑的一片。 他们沉默地走过这里,毫无疑问会在城堡岩找到那一伙人。 他们一看到城堡岩就一致地停下了脚步。 他们的左面是岛上丛林最密的部分,黑色的、绿色的,弯曲盘缠的根茎长满一地,简直无法穿越;他们面前摇曳着的是高高的野草。 这会儿拉尔夫独自往前走着。 这儿有被压得乱糟糟的野草,那一次拉尔夫前去探查时,他们全都在这儿躺过。那儿是陆地的隘口,侧石围绕着岩石——突出的架状岩石,上面是一个个红色的尖石块。 萨姆碰碰拉尔夫的手臂说:“烟。” 有一团小小的烟在岩石的另一侧悠悠地飘向空中。 “有点儿火光——这不一定是烟。”拉尔夫转过身来。 “咱们为什么要躲着?”他穿过象屏幕似的野草,走到了通向狭窄隘口的小空地上。 “你们俩跟在最后面。我先上,猪崽子跟在我背后。把你们的长矛拿好。” 猪崽子壮着胆子地向前看着,有一道发光的帷幕似乎在他面前,把他和世界隔开。 “安全吗?有没有峭壁?我听见了大海的涛声。” “你要紧跟着。”拉尔夫朝隘口移动。 他踢着一块石头,石头上下跳跃地滚入海中。 那时海水在退落下去,在拉尔夫左下方四十英尺光景,一块长满海藻的红色的方礁石露了出来。 “我这样安全吗?”猪崽子声音颤抖地说。“我很害怕——” 从高高的尖顶的岩石上,在他们头上突然传来一声叫喊,随后有一种好象是战争呐喊的叫声,紧接着在岩石背后十几个人跟着喊起来。 “把海螺给我,呆着别动。” “站住!谁在那儿?”拉尔夫仰起头,瞥见岩石顶上罗杰黑黑的面孔。 “你能认出我是谁!”他喊道。“别装傻了。” 他吹起海螺。野蛮人脸上涂得辨认不出谁是谁,突然一下子冒了出来,全围挤在朝隘口方向的侧石边上。 他们擎着长矛,摆好阵势守在入口处。拉尔夫不管被吓得魂飞魄散的猪崽子,还不断地吹着。 罗杰大声叫道:“你当心点——明白吗?” 拉尔夫为了喘一口气,才终于将嘴唇挪开。他气吁吁地开口说着,可还算听得出。“——开大会。” 守卫着隘口的野蛮人身体没有移动的交头接耳地低声说着。 拉尔夫又朝前走了几步。一个轻轻的声音急切地从他身后传来:“别离开我,拉尔夫。” “你跪下,”拉尔夫侧身说道,“在这儿等我回来。” 拉尔夫站在沿着隘口上去的半路当中,全神贯注地盯着涂得五颜六色,神态自若,头发朝后扎着的野蛮人看。 这些野蛮人显得比他自在。 拉尔夫作出把自己的头发也朝后扎起来的决定。 他感到很想叫他们等着,但马上就扎好自己的头发;那是不可能的。 野蛮人吃吃地笑起来,有一个用长矛作着瞄准拉尔夫的架势。 罗杰双手松开了杠杆,在岩石高处朝外倾着身子想看看情况怎么样。 隘口处的几个孩子站在自己的阴影里面,看上去只是几个蓬头散发的脑袋。 猪崽子失去了原来的形状,背弓着蜷缩成一团,象个麻袋似的。 “我要召开大会。”一片沉默。 罗杰向双胞胎中间扔去一块小石头,可没投中。 他们都开始扔石头了,而萨姆还站在那儿。 在身体里有一股什么力量在跳动着,被罗杰强烈地感受到了。 拉尔夫猛烈喊道:“我要召开大会。”他扫视着野蛮人。 “杰克在哪儿?”这一群孩子骚动起来,他们商量了一下。 一个涂着颜色的脸开了口,听上去是罗伯特的口音。“他去打猎了。他交代我们不让你进来。” “我来这儿是看看火堆怎么样,”拉尔夫说,“还问问猪崽子的眼镜。”拉尔夫前面的人群在格格的笑声中晃动着,高高的山岩上回荡着轻快而兴奋的笑声。 拉尔夫背后响起了一个人的话音。 “你们要干什么?”一个箭步双胞胎俩冲过拉尔夫来,站到拉尔夫和入口处中间。 拉尔夫很快地回过身去。杰克——从那个人的神态和红头发可以辨认出那是杰克——正从森林里走向前来。 两边蹲伏着的猎手和杰克一样脸上全涂满黑色和绿色。一个剖开了肚子并砍去了头的野母猪被扔在了他们身后的草地上。 猪崽子哭着喊道:“拉尔夫!别离开我!” 他下面是一起一落的大海,让人提心吊胆,因此他紧紧地抱住岩石,这个样子也很可笑。 野蛮人的耻笑声变成了大叫大嚷的嘲笑声。 杰克的嘲笑声要低于他的喊叫声。 “你们滚开,拉尔夫。你们守着你们那一头,这儿是我的一头,我的一伙人。你们别来管我。” 嘲笑声静了下去。 “猪崽子的眼镜被你抢走了,”拉尔夫说道,气喘吁吁。“你一定得还给他。” “一定得?谁说的?”拉尔夫被气急了。 “喂!是你们选我当头头的。海螺的声音难道你们没有听见吗?你玩的是肮脏的把戏——你要火种我们本来是会给你们的——”热血涌上他的面颊,肿胀的眼睛眨动着。“随便你什么时候要火种都可以。你象个贼似的偷偷地跑来,不但拿走火种,还偷走了猪崽子的眼镜!” “你再说一遍!” “贼!贼!” 猪崽子尖声叫道:“拉尔夫!帮帮我!” 杰克拿长矛往前一冲,直刺拉尔夫的胸膛。 拉尔夫因为瞥见了杰克的手臂,察觉到他的武器的位置,刺过来的矛尖被自己的矛柄给挡住。 接着拉尔夫转过长矛朝杰克一刺,矛尖擦过了对方的耳朵。 他们俩怒目相视,推推搡搡地大口喘着粗气,现在胸对着胸。 “谁是贼?” “就是你!”杰克挣脱出来挥舞着长矛朝向拉尔夫。 这会儿两人心照不宣地不再用会致命的矛尖,而拿长矛当军刀砍来砍去。 杰克的长矛打到拉尔夫的长矛上,往下一滑,他的手被打得生疼。随即他们又一次分开,杰克背朝着城堡岩,而拉尔夫则站在外围,背向海岛,此刻他们俩互换了位置。 两个孩子都呼哧呼哧地喘着粗气。 “再来呀——” “来呀——”他们双方虽然都摆出一副恶狠狠的进攻架势,但却保持着距离,刚好彼此都打不到。 “来呀,够你受的!” “你来呀——” 猪崽子以紧抓地面来吸引拉尔夫的注意。 拉尔夫挪动身子,弯着腰,眼睛警觉地盯着杰克。 “拉尔夫记住火堆,还有我的眼镜。这才是咱们来这儿的目的。” 拉尔夫点点头。 他将格斗时紧张的肌肉放松下来,随便地站着,长矛柄被拄在地上。 杰克似乎透过涂在脸上的涂料莫名其妙地看着他。 拉尔夫昂首瞥了瞥尖顶岩石,随后看着面前的这群野蛮人。 “听着,我们来是要说,首先你们必须把眼镜还给猪崽子。他要看东西必须有眼镜。你们这样太不光明磊落了——” 涂得五颜六色的一伙野蛮人发出的格格笑声,使拉尔夫也犹豫起来。 头发被他往后一掠,凝视着面前绿色和黑色的假面具似的脸,竭力想回忆起杰克原来的模样。 猪崽子低声说道:“还有火堆。” “噢,差点忘了火堆的事。我又提起了它。自从咱们落到这岛上以来我一直在说这件事。”他把长矛伸出来指着野蛮人。“你们唯一的希望就在于:只要有亮光可以看得见,就该生一堆信号火。大概会有船注意到烟,驶过来救咱们,这样咱们就可以回家了。如果没有烟就得等着碰巧来这儿的船。说不定咱们要等好多年;等到人都老了——” 在这里回荡着野蛮人爆发出的一阵颤抖的、清脆的、虚假的哄笑。 拉尔夫怒不可遏,他嗓门嘶哑地说:“你们这群花脸呆子,你们是不是不懂?萨姆、埃里克、猪崽子和我——我们缺人手。我们想要生好火堆,可是生不好。而你们呢,却以打猎寻开心……” 他指着他们身后,澄澈的天空中一缕烟飘散开去。 “瞧瞧那个!怎么能叫信号火堆?那只是个烧食的火堆。眼下你们吃东西,烟就没了。你们难道不明白?有艘船也许正从那儿经过呢——” 拉尔夫停住了,这一群涂成花脸的、不知名的人守卫在入口处,他们一声不吭,使他处于下风。 头领张开粉红色的嘴巴,对着在他和他那一伙人之间的萨姆纳里克叫喊道:“你们俩回去。” 因为没有人答应他。 而双胞胎迷惑不解,彼此看着对方;猪崽子看到一时不会有冲突发生,便小心翼翼地站起来。 杰克转头看看拉尔夫,随后又看看双胞胎。 “抓住他们。”没有动静。 杰克怒气冲冲地喊道:“我说,抓住他们!” 萨姆纳里克被涂着脸的人群七手八脚地紧张地围住了。 又响起了一阵清脆的哄笑声。 萨姆纳里克以礼貌的口吻抗议道:“唉呀,喂喂!” “——正当一点!”有人夺走双胞胎的长矛。 “把他们绑起来!” 拉尔夫朝着脸涂成黑色和绿色的人绝望地喊道:“杰克!” “别停手。绑住他们。”现在涂脸的人群觉得已经把萨姆纳里克征服了,也感觉到了自己手中的力量。 双胞胎被他们笨拙而兴奋地打翻在地。 杰克知道拉尔夫会试图营救他们,因此很受鼓舞返身用长矛嗡嗡地挥舞了一圈,拉尔夫刚来得及避开打击。 那一伙人在他们上面和双胞胎大叫大嚷,滚做一团。猪崽子又蹲伏下去。双胞胎在地上受惊地躺着,他们俩被那一伙人围着。 杰克转向拉尔夫,咬牙切齿地说道:“看见吗?他们听我的吩咐。” 又是寂静一片,被乱七八糟地绑着的双胞胎俩躺在地上,那一伙人注视着拉尔夫,看他到底怎么办。拉尔夫透过额前的长发点着他们的人数,又瞥见了已熄灭的烟。 拉尔夫熬不住了,他朝着杰克尖声叫嚷:“你是野兽,是猪猡,是个地地道道的贼!”他冲了上去。 杰克明白这是关键时刻,也向前冲去。 他们俩突然相撞,又跳了开来。杰克给拉尔夫一拳,打中了他的耳朵。 拉尔夫一拳正中杰克的肚子,打得他发出哼哼声。 接着他们俩又正面相对,气喘吁吁,怒不可遏,双方并没有被彼此的凶狠所吓倒。 在打架时那伙人持续不断的、快活的尖叫声被他们觉察到。 拉尔夫在一片喧闹声中仍听到了猪崽子的声音。 “让我说话。”他站在因他们相打而扬起的尘土中,当那一伙人看到猪崽子想讲话时,刺耳的喝彩声变成了轻蔑的哄笑声。 海螺被猪崽子拿起来,哄笑声稍稍低落了一点,接着又响起来。 “我拿着海螺!”猪崽子喊道:“告诉你们,我拿着海螺!” 这会儿又静下来倒很令人吃惊;他究竟要讲些什么有趣的事情,这时那些人都好奇地想听听。 一阵沉默和停顿,但是在寂静之中一种奇怪的声音,贴着拉尔夫的脑袋旁响起了。 他略加注意地听了听——那种声音又响了起来,一声轻轻的“嗖!” 有人在扔石头:罗杰在扔,他一手仍按在杠杆上。他在罗杰下面,只看到拉尔夫的蓬头散发和猪崽子缩成一团的胖胖的身躯。 “我要说,你们这样做就象一群小孩儿。” 哄笑声又响起来,但又随着猪崽子举起白色的,有魔力的海螺,平息了下去。 “哪一个好一些?——是象你们那样做一帮涂脸的黑鬼好呢?还是象拉尔夫那样做一个明白事理的人好呢?” 一阵响亮的喧哗声从野蛮人当中冒出来。 猪崽子又叫道:“是照规则、讲一致好呢?还是打猎和乱杀好呢?” 喧哗声再次响起,“嗖”的声音也响起了。 拉尔夫不顾喧哗声,叫喊道:“哪一个好一些?——是法律和得救好呢?还是打猎和破坏好呢?” 这时候在杰克的叫嚷声中已没有人能听清拉尔夫说的话了。杰克背靠着他那一伙人,长矛林立,连成一气,充满了威胁之意。 他们在准备着要酝酿发起一场将隘口一扫而清的冲击。 拉尔夫把长矛准备好,面对他们站着,稍偏向一侧。 在他身边站着的是猪崽子,仍伸着那只护身符——易碎的、闪亮而美丽的贝壳。 暴风雨般的骂声朝他们俩袭来,这是一种仇恨的诅咒。 罗杰在他们俩头上高高的地方极度兴奋地、恣意地把全身的重量压在杠杆上。 早在看到巨石以前拉尔夫就听到了它的声音。他觉察到从他的脚底传来了大地的震动,他还听到悬崖高处有石头破碎的声响。 那一伙人被一块红色的巨石直朝隘口蹦跳而吓得发出尖叫声,拉尔夫忙扑倒在地。 在猪崽子的下巴到膝盖之间这一大片面积被巨石擦过;海螺已不复存在了,此时成了一堆无数白色的碎片。 猪崽子一声不吭,连咕哝一声都来不及,就从岩石侧面翻落下去。 巨石又弹跳了两次,最后消失在森林之中。 猪崽子仰面摔倒在离岩石四十英尺海中的那块红色的方礁石上。 脑壳迸裂,脑浆直流,头部变成了红色。 猪崽子就象刚被宰杀的猪的腿一样手臂和腿部微微抽搐。 随后大海又开始起落,发出了缓慢而长长的叹息,白色的海浪翻腾着冲上礁石,又夹上了缕缕粉红色的血丝;猪崽子的尸体随着海浪的退落而被卷走。 这下子孩子们都寂静无声。拉尔夫嘴唇虽然在翕动,但没有声音出来。从他那一伙人中杰克猛地跳了出来,发狂地尖叫起来:“看见没有?你们看见没有?那就是你们的结果!我说,再也没有我们这一群了!海螺完了——” 他俯着身子跑了上来。“我是头领!”杰克的长矛被他杀气腾腾地投向了拉尔夫。 矛尖戳破了拉尔夫肋骨上的皮肉,随即又滑开掉进了水里。 拉尔夫只是感到惊恐,踉跄一下并没有疼痛感,那一伙人这会儿都象头领那样尖叫着上前来。 又一根弯的长矛是从拉尔夫面前掠过,而不是沿直线飞过来,这根长矛是从罗杰站的高处投下来的。 被捆着的双胞胎躺在那一伙人的背后,一张张说不清是谁的恶魔似的面孔一窝蜂地拥下了隘口。 拉尔夫的身后响起了象成群海鸥惊叫所发出的巨大噪声,这使得他转身就逃。 拉尔夫服从一种他并不知道自己所具有的本能,他躲闪着跑过了开阔地,因而投来的长矛距离拉得更开了。 一头砍掉脑袋的野母猪被他一眼看到,及时地一跃而过。 随后他噼里啪啦地穿过簇叶和小树枝,隐没到森林之中。 在死猪旁边头领收住脚,转过身去,举起手来。 “回去!回到堡垒去!”不一会儿罗杰加入到吵吵嚷嚷地回到隘口的那一伙人当中。 头领气愤地对他说:“为什么你不在上面守着?”罗杰沉默地看着他回答:“我刚下来——” 一种刽子手般的令人恐怖的感觉散布在罗杰周围。 头领只是俯首直盯着萨姆纳里克,没再对他说什么。 “你们必须加入我们这一派。” “放我走——” “——还有我。” 萨姆的肋骨被头领从留下几根长矛中的一根戳了戳。 “你这是什么意思,嗯?”头领狂怒地说。“你们带着长矛是来干什么的?你们不加入我们这一派,准备干什么?” 矛尖有节奏地一戳一戳。 痛得萨姆大叫。“别这样。” 在头领的身旁罗杰慢慢地挨过去,只是留心不让自己的肩膀碰着他。 叫嚷声停了下去,接下来的是不声不响,惊恐万状躺在地上仰脸看着的萨姆纳里克。 罗杰就象是在行使不可名状的权威朝他们走去。 Chapter 12 Cry of the Hunters   Ralph lay in a covert, wondering about his wounds. The bruised flesh was inches in diameter over his right ribs, with a swollen and bloody scar where the spear had hit him. His hair was full of dirt and tapped like the tendrils of a creeper. All over he was scratched and bruised from his flight through the forest. By the time his breathing was normal again, he had worked out that bathing these injuries would have to wait. How could you listen for naked feet if you were splashing in water? How could you be safe by the little stream or on the open beach?   Ralph listened. He was not really far from the Castle Rock, and during the first panic he had thought he heard sounds of pursuit. But the hunters had only sneaked into the fringes of the greenery, retrieving spears perhaps, and then had rushed back to the sunny rock as if terrified of the darkness under the leaves. He had even glimpsed one of them, striped brown, black, and red, and had judged that it was Bill. But really, thought Ralph, this was not Bill. This was a savage whose image refused to blend with that ancient picture of a boy in shorts and shirt.   The afternoon died away; the circular spots of sunlight moved steadily over green fronds and brown fiber but no sound came from behind the rock. At last Ralph wormed out of the ferns and sneaked forward to the edge of that impenetrable thicket that fronted the neck of land. He peered with elaborate caution between branches at the edge and could see Robert sitting on guard at the top of the cliff. He held a spear in his left hand and was tossing up a pebble and catching it again with the right. Behind him a column of smoke rose thickly, so that Ralph's nostrils flared and his mouth dribbled. He wiped his nose and mouth with the back of his hand and for the first time since the morning felt hungry. The tribe must be sitting round the gutted pig, watching the fat ooze and burn among the ashes. They would be intent.   Another figure, an unrecognizable one, appeared by Robert and gave him something, then turned and went back behind the rock. Robert laid his spear on the rock beside him and began to gnaw between his raised hands. So the feast was beginning and the watchman had been given his portion.   Ralph saw that for the time being he was safe. He limped away through the fruit trees, drawn by the thought of the poor food yet bitter when he remembered the feast. Feast today, and then tomorrow. . . .   He argued unconvincingly that they would let him alone, perhaps even make an outlaw of him. But then the fatal unreasoning knowledge came to him again. The breaking of the conch and the deaths of Piggy and Simon lay over the island like a vapor. These painted savages would go further and further. Then there was that indefinable connection between himself and Jack; who therefore would never let him alone; never.   He paused, sun-flecked, holding up a bough, prepared to duck under it. A spasm of terror set him shaking and he cried aloud.   "No. They're not as bad as that. It was an accident."   He ducked under the bough, ran clumsily, then stopped and listened.   He came to the smashed acres of fruit and ate greedily. He saw two littluns and, not having any idea of his own appearance, wondered why they screamed and ran.   When he had eaten he went toward the beach. The sunlight was slanting now into the palms by the wrecked shelter. There was the platform and the pool. The best thing to do was to ignore this leaden feeling about the heart and rely on their common sense, their daylight sanity. Now that the tribe had eaten, the thing to do was to try again. And anyway, he couldn't stay here all night in an empty shelter by the deserted platform. His flesh crept and he shivered in the evening sun. No fire; no smoke; no rescue. He turned and limped away through the forest toward Jack's end of the island.   The slanting sticks of sunlight were lost among the branches. At length he came to a clearing in the forest where rock prevented vegetation from growing. Now it was a pool of shadows and Ralph nearly flung himself behind a tree when he saw something standing in the center; but then he saw that the white face was bone and that the pig's skull grinned at him from the top of a stick. He walked slowly into the middle of the clearing and looked steadily at the skull that gleamed as white as ever the conch had done and seemed to jeer at him cynically. An inquisitive ant was busy in one of the eye sockets but otherwise the thing was lifeless.   Or was it?   Little prickles of sensation ran up and down his back. He stood, the skull about on a level with his face, and held up his hair with two hands. The teeth grinned, the empty sockets seemed to hold his gaze masterfully and without effort.   What was it?   The skull regarded Ralph like one who knows all the answers and won't tell. A sick fear and rage swept him. Fiercely he hit out at the filthy thing in front of him that bobbed like a toy and came back, still grinning into his face, so that he lashed and cried out in loathing. Then he was licking his bruised knuckles and looking at the bare stick, while the skull lay in two pieces, its grin now six feet across. He wrenched the quivering stick from the crack and held it as a spear between him and the white pieces. Then he backed away, keeping his face to the skull that lay grinning at the sky.   When the green glow had gone from the horizon and night was fully accomplished, Ralph came again to the thicket in front of the Castle Rock. Peeping through, he could see that the height was still occupied, and whoever it was up there had a spear at the ready.   He knelt among the shadows and felt his isolation bitterly. They were savages it was true; but they were human, and the ambushing fears of the deep night were coming on.   Ralph moaned faintly. Tired though he was, he could not relax and fall into a well of sleep for fear of the tribe. Might it not be possible to walk boldly into the fort, say-- "I've got pax," laugh lightly and sleep among the others? Pretend they were still boys, schoolboys who had said, "Sir, yes, Sir"--and worn caps? Daylight might have answered yes; but darkness and the horrors of death said no. Lying there in the darkness, he knew he was an outcast.   " 'Cos I had some sense."   He rubbed his cheek along his forearm, smelling the acrid scent of salt and sweat and the staleness of dirt. Over to the left, the waves of ocean were breathing, sucking down, then boiling back over the rock.   There were sounds coming from behind the Castle Rock. Listening carefully, detaching his mind from the swing of the sea, Ralph could make out a familiar rhythm.   "_Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"   The tribe was dancing. Somewhere on the other side of this rocky wall there would be a dark circle, a glowing fire, and meat. They would be savoring food and the comfort of safety.   A noise nearer at hand made him quiver. Savages were clambering up the Castle Rock, right up to the top, and he could hear voices. He sneaked forward a few yards and saw the shape at the top of the rock change and enlarge. There were only two boys on the island who moved or talked like that.   Ralph put his head down on his forearms and accepted this new fact like a wound. Samneric were part of the tribe now. They were guarding the Castle Rock against him. There was no chance of rescuing them and building up an outlaw tribe at the other end of the island. Samneric were savages like the rest; Piggy was dead, and the conch smashed to powder.   At length the guard climbed down. The two that remained seemed nothing more than a dark extension of the rock. A star appeared behind them and was momentarily eclipsed by some movement.   Ralph edged forward, feeling his way over the uneven surface as though he were blind. There were miles of vague water at his right and the restless ocean lay under his left hand, as awful as the shaft of a pit. Every minute the water breathed round the death rock and flowered into a field of whiteness. Ralph crawled until he found the ledge of the entry in his grasp. The lookouts were immediately above him and he could see the end of a spear projecting over the rock.   He called very gently.   "Samneric--"   There was no reply. To carry he must speak louder; and this would rouse those striped and inimical creatures from their feasting by the fire. He set his teeth and started to climb, finding the holds by touch. The stick that had supported a skull hampered him but he would not be parted from his only weapon. He was nearly level with the twins before he spoke again.   "Samneric--"   He heard a cry and a flurry from the rock. The twins had grabbed each other and were gibbering.   "It's me. Ralph."   Terrified that they would run and give the alarm, he hauled himself up until his head and shoulders stuck over the top. Far below his armpit he saw the luminous flowering round the rock.   "It's only me. Ralph."   At length they bent forward and peered in his face.   "We thought it was--"   "--we didn't know what it was--"   "--we thought--"   Memory of their new and shameful loyalty came to them. Eric was silent but Sam tried to do his duty.   "You got to go, Ralph. You go away now--"   He wagged his spear and essayed fierceness.   "You shove off. See?"   Eric nodded agreement and jabbed his spear in the air. Ralph leaned on his arms and did not go.   "I came to see you two."   His voice was thick. His throat was hurting him now though it had received no wound.   "I came to see you two--"   Words could not express the dull pain of these things. He fell silent, while the vivid stars were spilt and danced all ways.   Sam shifted uneasily.   "Honest, Ralph, you'd better go."   Ralph looked up again.   "You two aren't painted. How can you--? If it were light--"   If it were light shame would burn them at admitting these things. But the night was dark. Eric took up; and then the twins started their antiphonal speech.   "You got to go because it's not safe--"   "--they made us. They hurt us--"   "Who? Jack?"   "Oh no--"   They bent to him and lowered their voices.   "Push off, Ralph--"   "--it's a tribe--"   "--they made us--"   "--we couldn't help it--"   When Ralph spoke again his voice was low, and seemed breathless.   "What have I done? I liked him--and I wanted us to be rescued--"   Again the stars spilled about the sky. Eric shook his head, earnestly.   "Listen, Ralph. Never mind what's sense. That's gone--"   "Never mind about the chief--"   "--you got to go for your own good."   "The chief and Roger--"   "--yes, Roger--"   "They hate you, Ralph. They're going to do you."   "They're going to hunt you tomorrow."   "But why?"   "I dunno. And Ralph, Jack, the chief, says it'll be dangerous--"   "--and we've got to be careful and throw our spears like at a pig."   "We're going to spread out in a line across the island--"   "--we're going forward from this end--"   "--until we find you."   "We've got to give signals like this."   Eric raised his head and achieved a faint ululation by beating on his open mouth. Then he glanced behind him nervously.   "Like that--"   "--only louder, of course."   "But I've done nothing," whispered Ralph, urgently. "I only wanted to keep up a fire!"   He paused for a moment, thinking miserably of the morrow. A matter of overwhelming importance occurred to him.   "What are you--?"   He could not bring himself to be specific at first; but then fear and loneliness goaded him.   "When they find me, what are they going to do?"   The twins were silent. Beneath him, the death rock flowered again.   "What are they--oh God! I'm hungry--"   The towering rock seemed to sway under him.   "Well--what--?"   The twins answered his question indirectly.   "You got to go now, Ralph."   "For your own good."   "Keep away. As far as you can."   "Won't you come with me? Three of us--we'd stand a chance."   After a moment's silence, Sam spoke in a strangled voice.   "You don't know Roger. He's a terror."   "And the chief--they're both--"   "--terrors--"   "--only Roger--"   Both boys froze. Someone was climbing toward them from the tribe.   "He's coming to see if we're keeping watch. Quick, Ralph!"   As he prepared to let himself down the cliff, Ralph snatched at the last possible advantage to be wrung out of this meeting.   "I'll lie up close; in that thicket down there," he whispered, "so keep them away from it. They'll never think to look so close--"   The footsteps were still some distance away.   "Sam--I'm going to be all right, aren't I?"   The twins were silent again.   "Here!" said Sam suddenly. "Take this--"   Ralph felt a chunk of meat pushed against him and grabbed it.   "But what are you going to do when you catch me?"   Silence above. He sounded silly to himself. He lowered himself down the rock.   "What are you going to do--?"   From the top of the towering rock came the incomprehensible reply.   "Roger sharpened a stick at both ends."   Roger sharpened a stick at both ends. Ralph tried to attach a meaning to this but could not. He used all the bad words he could think of in a fit of temper that passed into yawning. How long could you go without sleep? He yearned for a bed and sheets--but the only whiteness here was the slow spilt milk, luminous round the rock forty feet below, where Piggy had fallen. Piggy was everywhere, was on this neck, was become terrible in darkness and death. If Piggy were to come back now out of the water, with his empty head--Ralph whimpered and yawned like a littlun. The stick in his hand became a crutch on which he reeled.   Then he tensed again. There were voices raised on the top of the Castle Rock. Samneric were arguing with someone. But the ferns and the grass were near. That was the place to be in, hidden, and next to the thicket that would serve for tomorrow's hideout. Here--and his hands touched grass--was a place to be in for the night, not far from the tribe, so that if the horrors of the supernatural emerged one could at least mix with humans for the time being, even if it meant . . .   What did it mean? A stick sharpened at both ends. What was there in that? They had thrown spears and missed; all but one. Perhaps they would miss next time, too.   He squatted down in the tall grass, remembered the meat that Sam had given him, and began to tear at it ravenously. While he was eating, he heard fresh noises--cries of pain from Samneric, cries of panic, angry voices. What did it mean? Someone besides himself was in trouble, for at least one of the twins was catching it. Then the voices passed away down the rock and he ceased to think of them. He felt with his hands and found cool, delicate fronds backed against the thicket. Here then was the night's lair. At first light he would creep into the thicket, squeeze between the twisted stems, ensconce himself so deep that only a crawler like himself could come through, and that crawler would be jabbed. There he would sit, and the search would pass him by, and the cordon waver on, ululating along the island, and he would be free.   He pulled himself between the ferns, tunneling in. He laid the stick beside him, and huddled himself down in the blackness. One must remember to wake at first light, in order to diddle the savages--and he did not know how quickly sleep came and hurled him down a dark interior slope.   He was awake before his eyes were open, listening to a noise that was near. He opened an eye, found the mold an inch or so from his face and his fingers gripped into it, light filtering between the fronds of fern. He had just time to realize that the age-long nightmares of falling and death were past and that the morning was come, when he heard the sound again. It was an ululation over by the seashore-- and now the next savage answered and the next. The cry swept by him across the narrow end of the island from sea to lagoon, like the cry of a flying bird. He took no time to consider but grabbed his sharp stick and wriggled back among the ferns. Within seconds he was worming his way into the thicket; but not before he had glimpsed the legs of a savage coming toward him. The ferns were thumped and beaten and he heard legs moving in the long grass. The savage, whoever he was, ululated twice; and the cry was repeated in both directions, then died away. Ralph crouched still, tangled in the ferns, and for a time he heard nothing.   At last he examined the thicket itself. Certainly no one could attack him here--and moreover he had a stroke of luck. The great rock that had killed Piggy had bounded into this thicket and bounced there, right in the center, making a smashed space a few feet in extent each way. When Ralph had wriggled into this he felt secure, and clever. He sat down carefully among the smashed stems and waited for the hunt to pass. Looking up between the leaves he caught a glimpse of something red. That must be the top of the Castle Rock, distant and unmenacing.   He composed himself triumphantly, to hear the sounds of the hunt dying away.   Yet no one made a sound; and as the minutes passed, in the green shade, his feeling of triumph faded.   At last he heard a voice--Jack's voice, but hushed.   "Are you certain?"   The savage addressed said nothing. Perhaps he made a gesture.   Roger spoke.   "If you're fooling us--"   Immediately after this, there came a gasp, and a squeal of pain. Ralph crouched instinctively. One of the twins was there, outside the thicket, with Jack and Roger.   "You're sure he meant in there?"   The twin moaned faintly and then squealed again.   "He meant he'd hide in there?"   "Yes--yes--oh--!"   Silver laughter scattered among the trees.   So they knew.   Ralph picked up his stick and prepared for battle. But what could they do? It would take them a week to break a path through the thicket; and anyone who wormed his way in would be helpless. He felt the point of his spear with his thumb and grinned without amusement. Whoever tried that would be stuck, squealing like a pig.   They were going away, back to the tower rock. He could hear feet moving and then someone sniggered. There came again that high, bird-like cry that swept along the line. So some were still watching for him; but some--?   There was a long, breathless silence. Ralph found that he had bark in his mouth from the gnawed spear. He stood and peered upwards to the Castle Rock.   As he did so, he heard Jack's voice from the top.   "Heave! Heave! Heave!"   The red rock that he could see at the top of the cliff vanished like a curtain, and he could see figures and blue sky. A moment later the earth jolted, there was a rushing sound in the air, and the top of the thicket was cuffed as with a gigantic hand. The rock bounded on, thumping and smashing toward the beach, while a shower of broken twigs and leaves fell on him. Beyond the thicket, the tribe was cheering.   Silence again.   Ralph put his fingers in his mouth and bit them. There was only one other rock up there that they might conceivably move; but that was half as big as a cottage, big as a car, a tank. He visualized its probable progress with agonizing clearness--that one would start slowly, drop from ledge to ledge, trundle across the neck like an outsize steamroller.   "Heave! Heave! Heave!"   Ralph put down his spear, then picked it up again. He pushed his hair back irritably, took two hasty steps across the little space and then came back. He stood looking at the broken ends of branches.   Still silence.   He caught sight of the rise and fall of his diaphragm and was surprised to see how quickly he was breathing. Just left of center his heart-beats were visible. He put the spear down again.   "Heave! Heave! Heave!"   A shrill, prolonged cheer.   Something boomed up on the red rock, then the earth jumped and began to shake steadily, while the noise as steadily increased. Ralph was shot into the air, thrown down, dashed against branches. At his right hand, and only a few feet away, the whole thicket bent and the roots screamed as they came out of the earth together. He saw something red that turned over slowly as a mill wheel. Then the red thing was past and the elephantine progress diminished toward the sea.   Ralph knelt on the plowed-up soil, and waited for the earth to come back. Presently the white, broken stumps, the split sticks and the tangle of the thicket refocused. There was a kind of heavy feeling in his body where he had watched his own pulse.   Silence again.   Yet not entirely so. They were whispering out there; and suddenly the branches were shaken furiously at two places on his right. The pointed end of a stick appeared. In panic, Ralph thrust his own stick through the crack and struck with all his might.   "Aaa-ah!"   His spear twisted a little in his hands and then he withdrew it again.   "Ooh-ooh--"   Someone was moaning outside and a babble of voices rose. A fierce argument was going on and the wounded savage kept groaning. Then when there was silence, a single voice spoke and Ralph decided that it was not Jack's.   "See? I told you--he's dangerous."   The wounded savage moaned again.   What else? What next?   Ralph fastened his hands round the chewed spear and his hair fell. Someone was muttering, only a few yards away toward the Castle Rock. He heard a savage say "No!" in a shocked voice; and then there was suppressed laughter. He squatted back on his heels and showed his teeth at the wall of branches. He raise his spear, snarled a little, and waited.   Once more the invisible group sniggered. He heard a curious trickling sound and then a louder crepitation as if someone were unwrapping great sheets of cellophane. A stick snapped and he stifled a cough. Smoke was seeping through the branches in white and yellow wisps, the patch of blue sky overhead turned to the color of a storm cloud, and then the smoke billowed round him.   Someone laughed excitedly, and a voice shouted.   "Smoke!"   He wormed his way through the thicket toward the forest, keeping as far as possible beneath the smoke. Presently he saw open space, and the green leaves of the edge of the thicket. A smallish savage was standing between him and the rest of the forest, a savage striped red and white, and carrying a spear. He was coughing and smearing the paint about his eyes with the back of his hand as he tried to see through the increasing smoke. Ralph launched himself like a cat; stabbed, snarling, with the spear, and the savage doubled up. There was a shout from beyond the thicket and then Ralph was running with the swiftness of fear through the undergrowth. He came to a pig-run, followed it for perhaps a hundred yards, and then swerved off. Behind him the ululation swept across the island once more and a single voice shouted three times. He guessed that was the signal to advance and sped away again, till his chest was like fire. Then he flung himself down under a bush and waited for a moment till his breathing steadied. He passed his tongue tentatively over his teeth and lips and heard far off the ululation of the pursuers.   There were many things he could do. He could climb a tree; but that was putting all his eggs in one basket. If he were detected, they had nothing more difficult to do than wait.   If only one had time to think!   Another double cry at the same distance gave him a clue to their plan. Any savage balked in the forest would utter the double shout and hold up the line till he was free again. That way they might hope to keep the cordon unbroken right across the island. Ralph thought of the boar that had broken through them with such ease. If necessary, when the chase came too close, he could charge the cordon while it was still thin, burst through, and run back. But run back where? The cordon would turn and sweep again. Sooner or later he would have to sleep or eat--and then he would awaken with hands clawing at him; and the hunt would become a running down.   What was to be done, then? The tree? Burst the line like a boar? Either way the choice was terrible.   A single cry quickened his heart-beat and, leaping up, he dashed away toward the ocean side and the thick jungle till he was hung up among creepers; he stayed there for a moment with his calves quivering. If only one could have quiet, a long pause, a time to think!   And there again, shrill and inevitable, was the ululation sweeping across the island. At that sound he shied like a horse among the creepers and ran once more till he was panting. He flung himself down by some ferns. The tree, or the charge? He mastered his breathing for a moment, wiped his mouth, and told himself to be calm. Samneric were somewhere in that line, and hating it. Or were they? And supposing, instead of them, he met the chief, or Roger who carried death in his hands?   Ralph pushed back his tangled hair and wiped the sweat out of his best eye. He spoke aloud.   "Think."   What was the sensible thing to do?   There was no Piggy to talk sense. There was no solemn assembly for debate nor dignity of the conch.   "Think."   Most, he was beginning to dread the curtain that might waver in his brain, blacking out the sense of danger, making a simpleton of him.   A third idea would be to hide so well that the advancing line would pass without discovering him.   He jerked his head off the ground and listened. There was another noise to attend to now, a deep grumbling noise, as though the forest itself were angry with him, a somber noise across which the ululations were scribbled excruciatingly as on slate. He knew he had heard it before somewhere, but had no time to remember.   Break the line.   A tree.   Hide, and let them pass.   A nearer cry stood him on his feet and immediately he was away again, running fast among thorns and brambles. Suddenly he blundered into the open, found himself again in that open space--and there was the fathom-wide grin of the skull, no longer ridiculing a deep blue patch of sky but jeering up into a blanket of smoke. Then Ralph was running beneath trees, with the grumble of the forest explained. They had smoked him out and set the island on fire.   Hide was better than a tree because you had a chance of breaking the line if you were discovered.   Hide, then.   He wondered if a pig would agree, and grimaced at nothing. Find the deepest thicket, the darkest hole on the island, and creep in. Now, as he ran, he peered about him. Bars and splashes of sunlight flitted over him and sweat made glistening streaks on his dirty body. The cries were far now, and faint.   At last he found what seemed to him the right place, though the decision was desperate. Here, bushes and a wild tangle of creeper made a mat that kept out all the light of the sun. Beneath it was a space, perhaps a foot high, though it was pierced everywhere by parallel and rising stems. If you wormed into the middle of that you would be five yards from the edge, and hidden, unless the savage chose to lie down and look for you; and even then, you would be in darkness--and if the worst happened and he saw you, then you had a chance to burst out at him, fling the whole line out of step and double back.   Cautiously, his stick trailing behind him, Ralph wormed between the rising stems. When he reached the middle of the mat he lay and listened.   The fire was a big one and the drum-roll that he had thought was left so far behind was nearer. Couldn't a fire outrun a galloping horse? He could see the sun-splashed ground over an area of perhaps fifty yards from where he lay, and as he watched, the sunlight in every patch blinked at him. This was so like the curtain that flapped in his brain that for a moment he thought the blinking was inside him. But then the patches blinked more rapidly, dulled and went out, so that he saw that a great heaviness of smoke lay between the island and the sun.   If anyone peered under the bushes and chanced to glimpse human flesh it might be Samneric who would pretend not to see and say nothing. He laid his cheek against the chocolate-colored earth, licked his dry lips and closed his eyes. Under the thicket, the earth was vibrating very slightly; or perhaps there was a sound beneath the obvious thunder of the fire and scribbled ululations that was too low to hear.   Someone cried out. Ralph jerked his cheek off the earth and looked into the dulled light. They must be near now, he thought, and his chest began to thump. Hide, break the line, climb a tree--which was the best after all?   The trouble was you only had one chance.   Now the fire was nearer; those volleying shots were great limbs, trunks even, bursting. The fools! The fools! The fire must be almost at the fruit trees--what would they eat tomorrow?   Ralph stirred restlessly in his narrow bed. One chanced nothing! What could they do? Beat him? So what? Kill him? A stick sharpened at both ends.   The cries, suddenly nearer, jerked him up. He could see a striped savage moving hastily out of a green tangle, and coming toward the mat where he hid, a savage who carried a spear. Ralph gripped his fingers into the earth. Be ready now, in case.   Ralph fumbled to hold his spear so that it was point foremost; and now he saw that the stick was sharpened at both ends.   The savage stopped fifteen yards away and uttered his cry.   Perhaps he can hear my heart over the noises of the fire. Don't scream. Get ready.   The savage moved forward so that you could only see him from the waist down. That was the butt of his spear. Now you could see him from the knee down. Don't scream.   A herd of pigs came squealing out of the greenery behind the savage and rushed away into the forest. Birds were screaming, mice shrieking, and a little hopping thing came under the mat and cowered.   Five yards away the savage stopped, standing right by the thicket, and cried out. Ralph drew his feet up and crouched. The stake was in his hands, the stake sharpened at both ends, the stake that vibrated so wildly, that grew long, short, light, heavy, light again.   The ululation spread from shore to shore. The savage knelt down by the edge of the thicket, and there were lights flickering in the forest behind him. You could see a knee disturb the mold. Now the other. Two hands. A spear.   A face.   The savage peered into the obscurity beneath the thicket. You could tell that he saw light on this side and on that, but not in the middle--there. In the middle was a blob of dark and the savage wrinkled up his face, trying to decipher the darkness.   The seconds lengthened. Ralph was looking straight into the savage's eyes.   Don't scream.   You'll get back.   Now he's seen you. He's making sure. A stick sharpened.   Ralph screamed, a scream of fright and anger and desperation. His legs straightened, the screams became continuous and foaming. He shot forward, burst the thicket, was in the open, screaming, snarling, bloody. He swung the stake and the savage tumbled over; but there were others coming toward him, crying out. He swerved as a spear flew past and then was silent, running. All at once the lights flickering ahead of him merged together, the roar of the forest rose to thunder and a tall bush directly in his path burst into a great fan-shaped flame. He swung to the right, running desperately fast, with the heat beating on his left side and the fire racing forward like a tide. The ululation rose behind him and spread along, a series of short sharp cries, the sighting call. A brown figure showed up at his right and fell away. They were all running, all crying out madly. He could hear them crashing in the undergrowth and on the left was the hot, bright thunder of the fire. He forgot his wounds, his hunger and thirst, and became fear; hopeless fear on flying feet, rushing through the forest toward the open beach. Spots jumped before his eyes and turned into red circles that expanded quickly till they passed out of sight. Below him someone's legs were getting tired and the desperate ululation advanced like a jagged fringe of menace and was almost overhead.   He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher. He saw a shelter burst into flames and the fire flapped at his right shoulder and there was the glitter of water. Then he was down, rolling over and over in the warm sand, crouching with arm to ward off, trying to cry for mercy.   He staggered to his feet, tensed for more terrors, and looked up at a huge peaked cap. It was a white-topped cap, and above the green shade of the peak was a crown, an anchor, gold foliage. He saw white drill, epaulettes, a revolver, a row of gilt buttons down the front of a uniform.   A naval officer stood on the sand, looking down at Ralph in wary astonishment. On the beach behind him was a cutter, her bows hauled up and held by two ratings. In the stern-sheets another rating held a sub-machine gun.   The ululation faltered and died away.   The officer looked at Ralph doubtfully for a moment, then took his hand away from the butt of the revolver.   "Hullo."   Squirming a little, conscious of his filthy appearance, Ralph answered shyly.   "Hullo."   The officer nodded, as if a question had been answered.   "Are there any adults--any grownups with you?"   Dumbly, Ralph shook his head. He turned a halfpace on the sand. A semicircle of little boys, their bodies streaked with colored clay, sharp sticks in their hands, were standing on the beach making no noise at all.   "Fun and games," said the officer.   The fire reached the coconut palms by the beach and swallowed them noisily. A flame, seemingly detached, swung like an acrobat and licked up the palm heads on the platform. The sky was black.   The officer grinned cheerfully at Ralph.   "We saw your smoke. What have you been doing? Having a war or something?"   Ralph nodded.   The officer inspected the little scarecrow in front of him. The kid needed a bath, a haircut, a nose-wipe and a good deal of ointment.   "Nobody killed, I hope? Any dead bodies?"   "Only two. And they've gone."   The officer leaned down and looked closely at Ralph.   "Two? Killed?"   Ralph nodded again. Behind him, the whole island was shuddering with flame. The officer knew, as a rule, when people were telling the truth. He whistled softly.   Other boys were appearing now, tiny tots some of them, brown, with the distended bellies of small savages. One of them came close to the officer and looked up.   "I'm, I'm--"   But there was no more to come. Percival Wemys Madison sought in his head for an incantation that had faded clean away.   The officer turned back to Ralph.   "We'll take you off. How many of you are there?"   Ralph shook his head. The officer looked past him to the group of painted boys.   "Who's boss here?"   "I am," said Ralph loudly.   A little boy who wore the remains of an extraordinary black cap on his red hair and who carried the remains of a pair of spectacles at his waist, started forward, then changed his mind and stood still.   "We saw your smoke. And you don't know how many of you there are?"   "No, sir."   "I should have thought," said the officer as he visualized the search before him, "I should have thought that a pack of British boys--you're all British, aren't you?--would have been able to put up a better show than that--I mean--"   "It was like that at first," said Ralph, "before things--"   He stopped.   "We were together then--"   The officer nodded helpfully.   "I know. Jolly good show. Like the Coral Island."   Ralph looked at him dumbly. For a moment he had a fleeting picture of the strange glamour that had once invested the beaches. But the island was scorched up like dead wood--Simon was dead--and Jack had. . . . The tears began to flow and sobs shook him. He gave himself up to them now for the first time on the island; great, shuddering spasms of grief that seemed to wrench his whole body. His voice rose under the black smoke before the burning wreckage of the island; and infected by that emotion, the other little boys began to shake and sob too. And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.   The officer, surrounded by these noises, was moved and a little embarrassed. He turned away to give them time to pull themselves together; and waited, allowing his eyes to rest on the trim cruiser in the distance. 第十二章 猎手的尖叫 在一个树丛中拉尔夫躺着,思量着自己受的伤。 右肋上被长矛刺中的直径几英寸的皮肉青紫,而且伤口处还浮肿着,有一块血红的疤。 头发轻叩起来就象一根根藤蔓卷须一样肮脏不堪。 由于穿越森林飞快地逃跑,树枝把他擦得遍体鳞伤。 他的呼吸逐渐恢复了平静,他也想好了:这些伤口只好等一段时间才能冲洗了。因为泼水冲洗时或许听不到赤足的脚步声呢?而在小溪边或在开阔的海滩上,怎样才能够平安无事呢? 虽然拉尔夫离城堡岩并不远,但他还是侧身倾听。在先前的惊慌失措之中他曾以为听到了追逐的响声。 但是猎手们也许是为了捡回长矛,仅仅偷偷地跑到了绿树丛的边缘,随后都一窝蜂地退回到阳光照射的城堡岩上,好象叶丛下的黑暗把他们都吓坏了似的。 拉尔夫还瞥见了其中一个,涂着一道道褐色、黑色和红色的条纹,他猜测那是比尔。 拉尔夫想事实上这不可能是比尔。 这是一个野蛮人,他的外貌跟过去的比尔——一个穿着衬衫和短裤的孩子——的形象很难一致起来。 下午随时间流逝而过;虽然绿色的棕榈叶丛和褐色的树纤上被太阳的光斑所照射,但是城堡岩的后面并没有什么声音传过来。 最后拉尔夫扭动着身子钻出了羊齿草丛,偷偷地爬到了隘口前面那难以逾越的乱丛棵子的边上。透过树枝他十分谨慎地窥视,在悬崖顶上有罗伯特在放哨。罗伯特左手持着长矛,一块卵石被右手往上抛起又接住,再抛起再接住。 一股浓烟在罗伯特的背后冉冉上升,拉尔夫鼻孔张得老大,嘴里馋涎欲滴。 鼻子和嘴巴被他用手背擦了擦。 这时他觉得饥肠辘辘,这也是他第一次在早晨感到饿。 那伙人一定席地而坐围着观看野猪开胸剖膛,看着脂油熔化着滴在灰烬上口兹口兹而燃。 他们一定很聚精会神。 另一个认不出是谁的人影在罗伯特身旁出现了,给了他什么东西,随后转身走开,隐没在岩石背后。 罗伯特把长矛放在靠身边的岩石上,双手抬起,嘴里咬着在两只手之间的东西。吃喝开始了,看守者也分得了一份。 拉尔夫暂时没有危险,这一点他是很清楚的,就一瘸一拐地穿过了野果树林,想随便弄点蹩脚的食物来吃;这时令他心酸的事情莫过于当他想到山上的人有许多东西吃。 他们今天有得吃,那么明天……他在心里反反复复地想,但是想不透他是不是被他们丢在一边不管;或许会把他当作一个放逐者。 但是那决定命运的看法不假思索地回到了他身上。 被砸得粉碎的海螺,还有猪崽子和西蒙的死,象烟雾笼罩在岛的上空。 这些脸上涂得五颜六色的野蛮人会越走越远。其次还有他自己和杰克之间讲不清楚的关系;为此杰克是决不可能让他太平的;绝对不可能。 拉尔夫停顿了一下,一根大树枝被他在斑驳的阳光下托起,打算从下面钻过去。 一阵恐怖使他浑身颤抖,他出声地喊道:“不。他们不会那么坏。那是碰巧发生的。” 他钻过大树枝,笨拙地奔着,又停下来谛听。 拉尔夫来到一块遍地野果的地方,就贪婪地吃起来。他看到两个小家伙尖叫着逃走,觉得纳闷,却一点也没有想到自己的一副尊容。 拉尔夫吃完以后,朝海滩走去。此刻阳光斜射到塌掉了的窝棚旁边的棕榈树林里。 那儿有平台和水潭。 现在尽可能的不去管心里那种沉闷的感觉,相信他们白天神志会正常,相信他们也有常识。既然那一伙人已吃完了,那就再试试看吧。 无论如何,他总不能整夜呆在荒无人影的平台边空旷的窝棚里。 他在落日的余晖中感到自己汗毛直竖,浑身打战。没有火,没有烟,也没有人来救。他转过身去朝岛上杰克他们那一头走去,一瘸一拐地穿越森林。 在密密的树枝当中倾斜的阳光消失了。他最后来到了岩石使得植物无法生长的一块林中空地。 此时空地上满是阴影,拉尔夫一眼看到有什么东西站在空地中间,赶忙闪到一棵树后;后来他看清了那白面孔只是个插在一根木棒上头的一只猪头正在朝他露齿而笑,就缓缓地走进空地中央,盯着那猪头看。 猪头闪着微微的白光就象先前的海螺那样,似乎在讥笑他,挖苦他。 在一只眼窟窿里有一只好奇的蚂蚁在忙碌,除此以外猪头毫无生气。 或者说,它确是毫无生气的吗?好像有针在拉尔夫背上上上下下地刺着。他站在那儿,双手撩起自己的头发,猪头跟他的脸大致处于同一高度。它龇牙咧嘴地笑着,仿佛毫不费力的两只眼窟窿巧妙地吸引住了他的目光。 它是什么?拉尔夫被猪头看着,好象它知道一切答案却不肯讲似的。 有一种令人恶心的恐惧和愤怒被拉尔夫感觉到了。这个丑陋的东西被他狠狠地挥拳猛击着,它象玩具似地摇了摇,又晃了回来,仍然朝着他龇牙咧嘴地笑,于是他边打边大声咒骂。 随后,他的青肿的指关节被舔着,看着光秃秃的木棒,猪头骨一摔两半,在六英尺外还在痴笑。 拉尔夫一阵猛扭,颤动着的木棒被他从岩缝里拔了出来,他把木棒拿在手里,就象是拿着一根长矛置于他自己和白色的碎头盖骨之间。 然后他往后退,躺在地上朝天痴笑的猪头始终被他盯着。 拉尔夫当苍白的光从天际消失,夜幕完全降临后,才又回到城堡岩前面的乱丛棵子里。他从树丛中向外窥视,看见岩石高处那儿不知是谁拿着长矛仍在值勤。 他跪在黑影当中,痛苦地感到自己形影相吊,十分孤单。 他们确实是一群野蛮人;但他们总还是人吧,一种潜伏的、对深沉黑夜的恐惧正在袭来。 拉尔夫没劲儿地悲叹着。他虽然很累了,但是由于害怕那一伙人,还是无法宽下心来,倒头酣睡一觉。 要这样做可能不行了:他勇敢地走进被占据的堡垒,对他们说——“我不跟你们吵了,”并微微一笑,在他们当中睡下去,他们被当作一群孩子,当作一群戴着帽子,过去老说“先生,是,先生”的学生吧?大白天这样的回答也许不错;然而黑夜和对死的恐怖对此的回答却相反。在一片漆黑之中拉尔夫躺着,他知道自己无处可归。 “就因为我还有点头脑。”他的脸颊被他用前臂擦着,闻到一股刺鼻的气味:又是盐味,又是汗味,又是污垢的霉臭味。 再往左边去,大海的浪涛在不断地上涨又退落,翻腾在礁石上。 响声从城堡岩的后面传来。拉尔夫使思想摆脱潮起潮落的声响,他认真地听,听得出是一种熟悉的节奏。 “杀野兽哟!割喉咙哟!放它血哟!”那一伙人在跳舞。 有个地方在这堵岩石形成的墙的另一侧,他们一定围成一个黑漆漆的圆圈,有一堆火在燃烧,还有肉。 他们也许正享受着津津有味的美味,满足于这种舒适的安全之感。 拉尔夫听到从离他更近处的一个声响,这使他直打哆嗦。 野蛮人正在往城堡岩上爬,一直往顶上去,拉尔夫听得到各种说话声音。 他偷偷地朝前爬了几码,看到岩石顶上已经变大了的人形。岛上只有两个孩子会那样地移动,那样地说话。 头被拉尔夫伏在前臂上,他伤心地接受了这一新的事实。 眼下他们那一伙又多了个萨姆纳里克。 他们俩正守卫着城堡岩来反对他。 把他们俩救出来的机会再也没有了,在岛的另一头把一伙被放逐者组织起来的机会也没有了。 萨姆纳里克象那些人一样变成了野蛮人;猪崽子死了,海螺也已被砸得个粉粹。 看守者最终爬了下去。没有离开的两个看上去好象成了黑沉沉的岩石的扩大了的一部分。他们身后出现了一颗星,瞬息之间什么东西移动过来遮住了它。 拉尔夫象瞎子似的慢慢地向前移动,摸索着坑坑洼洼的地面前进。 一片模模糊糊的海水在他的右手边,骚动不安的大海横卧在他的左手边,从上面往下看去,就象是看着一个竖井的井底,令人生畏。 那块死亡礁石起伏着不断地被海水围绕着,并汇成白茫茫的一片。 拉尔夫慢慢地爬着,终于用手抓住了入口处的架状岩石。 在他的头上,他看得见从岗哨的岩石上露出的矛尖。 他轻声地叫道:“萨姆纳里克——”没有回应。 他必须说得响一点才能使人听到;而这就可能会惊动那些敌视他的,满身条纹的家伙,在火堆旁他们正大吃大喝。 他咬紧牙关开始爬上去,用手摸索着可以抓得住的支撑点向上攀。 他手里拿着的那根支着猪头的木棒,那曾经妨碍过他,但是他不愿意丢掉自己唯一的武器。 拉尔夫跟双胞胎差不多长到了同一的高度,这才又开口喊道:“萨姆纳里克——”岩石上传来的一声惊叫和一阵慌乱声被他听到了。 双胞胎俩互相紧紧地抓住,结结巴巴地嘟囔着什么。 “是我,拉尔夫。”他用力地爬上去,生怕他们会跑去报警,在岩石上将头和肩探出来。 他从胳膊窝处看下去,远远地看见下面白色浪花围着礁石四溅起来。 “是我呀,是我拉尔夫。”终于,他们俩弯腰朝前,注视起他的面孔。 “我们还以为是——” “——我们不晓得是什么——” “——我们以为——”自己新的,但又令人羞愧的忠诚被他们俩记起来了。 埃里克不吭声,可萨姆倒试图尽起他的职责。 “你得走,拉尔夫。你马上就走开——” 他挥舞着长矛,做出凶狠的样子。“你离开。明白吗?” 埃里克点头表示同意,长矛并被他刺向空中。 拉尔夫用手臂撑着,没有走。“我来看看你们两人。”他的喉咙并没有负伤,但他的声音沙哑,嗓子疼痛。 “我是来看你们两人的——”话语是不能表达这些隐痛的。 他沉默下来,而明亮的星星却一直在闪闪烁烁。 萨姆不自在地移动了一下。“说真的,拉尔夫,你最好还是走吧。” 拉尔夫再次仰起了头。“你们俩没有涂彩。你们怎么能够——?要是有亮光的话——” 要是有亮光的话,如果承认这些事情会使他们感到羞愧之心在亮光下灼烤。 但夜是黑漆漆的。埃里克接过了话头,随后双胞胎俩相互附和地说道:“你必须得走,因为不安全——” “——我们被他们逼迫。他们伤害了我们——” “谁?杰克?” “哦,不——”他们俩俯身向他,放低了嗓门。“走开吧,拉尔夫——” “——这是一个帮派——” “——他们强迫我们——” “——我们无可奈何——” 拉尔夫再开口的时候,声音很低,似乎有些乏力。“我做了什么事呀?我喜欢他——我希望大家得救。——” 星星在天空中闪着微光。埃里克摇晃脑袋,诚恳地说:“听着,拉尔夫。别再想着什么理智了。那算完了——” “头儿的事你就别在意了——” “——为你自己好你得走。” “头领和罗杰——” “——对,罗杰——” “他们对你怀恨在心,拉尔夫。他们打算干掉你。” “明天他们会追捕你。” “可为什么呀?” “我不明白。拉尔夫,还有杰克——就是头领,他说那会很危险——” “——要我们谨慎行事,象投刺野猪那样用长矛扎你。” “我们要横越全岛撒开搜索线——” “——我们要从这一头出发——” “——缺了你就不行。” “我们要象这样发信号。”埃里克抬起头拍着自己张大的嘴巴,发出轻轻的呜呜声。随即他又紧张地转头瞥了一眼。 “就象那样——” “——当然,声音要够大。” “什么我都没干过呀,”拉尔夫迫切地低声说道:“我只是想要维持着火堆罢了!” 拉尔夫停了片刻,痛苦地想到明天。 对他来说,无比重要的事情莫过于这件事情的发生。 “你打算——?” 一开始他还无法作出明确的答复;可随后恐惧心和孤独感又刺激起他来。“他们找到我以后准备干什么?” 双胞胎一言不发。在拉尔夫下面,那块死亡礁石上又飞溅起浪花。 “他们打算——哦,天哪!我真饿——”在他下面高耸的岩石仿佛要摇动起来。 “那么——怎么——?”双胞胎没有直接回答他的问题。“你一定要马上走,拉尔夫。” “为你自己好。” “避开点。尽可能避远点。” “你们俩情愿跟我一块儿走?咱们三个——咱们会有希望的。” 在片刻的沉默之后,萨姆仿佛透不过气来似地说道:“你还是了解罗杰太少了。他可真叫人害怕。” “——还有头领——他们两人都——” “——叫人害怕——” “——不过罗杰——”两个孩子被朝他们爬来的一伙人中的一个吓呆了。 “他来查岗了。快走,拉尔夫!”拉尔夫想在准备下峭壁的时候,利用一下最后这次碰头的机会。 “我就躺在下面那儿的乱丛棵子里,一个离这儿很近的地方,”他低声说道。“别让他们到那儿去。他们决不会想到去查这么近的地方——”  从脚步声可以听出离这儿还有一段路。“萨姆——我一定会没事的,是吗?” 双胞胎又默不作声了。 “给你!”萨姆突然说。“拿着——” 拉尔夫觉得一大块肉推到他身上,忙一把攥住。 “可你们打算逮住我以后怎么办呢?”头上没人吭声。 他傻乎乎地自言自语着,爬下了岩石。 “你们打算怎么办呢?”令人不解的答复从高耸的岩石顶上传来了。 “一根木棒的两头都被罗杰削尖了。”一根木棒的两头都被罗杰削尖了。 拉尔夫竭力想领会这句话的含意,可就是搞不清。 一切坏字眼都被恼火地他给想到了,可是却打起哈欠来。 一个人不睡能熬多久呢? 他渴望有张铺着被单的床——然而四十英尺下面那白茫茫的一片,那象溢出牛奶似的、围绕着那块礁石慢慢铺开的闪光的一片,那是猪崽子摔下去的地方,这就是这儿唯一所有的。 猪崽子无处不在,他在这隘口处,在黑暗和死亡中变得令人生畏。 要是此刻从水里冒出猪崽子那个光脑瓜,回到他身边来,该有多好哇——拉尔夫象个小家伙一样呜呜地哭,又打起哈欠来。 他感到眼前天旋地转,手中的木棒就被他用来当做一根拐杖用。 可随后拉尔夫又紧张起来。城堡岩顶上有讲话声音。那声音是萨姆纳里克在跟什么人斗嘴。 但是羊齿草丛和草地已经很近了。 旁边就是准备明天藏身在里面的乱丛棵子。 这儿——他的手触到了野草——这儿离那伙人不远,是夜里躲藏的好地方,这样,当那个怪物再出现,发生恐怖的时候,至少暂时还能跟人们混在一起,即使这意味着……这意味着什么呢? 一根两头削尖的木棒。里面有什么名堂呢? 他们投长矛,可除了一根别的都没扎中。这种情况下次也有可能发生。 在高高的野草中,拉尔夫正蹲坐在那里,忽然记起了萨姆给他的一块肉,就贪馋地撕咬起来。 他正吃着,听到有一种新的喧哗声——萨姆纳里克发出痛苦的叫声,惊恐的哭喊,再加上愤怒的话语。 这意味着什么呢?除了他以外,麻烦也让双胞胎中的一个碰上过。 随后,说话声消失在岩石下面,他也不再去想到它了。 背靠着的乱丛棵子的,冷冷的,细嫩的蕨类叶丛被拉尔夫的手摸到了。 夜里就在这儿藏身。 晨曦初露他就爬进乱丛棵子,被杂树乱枝遮蔽得严严实实,他会对像他一样爬进来的人狠狠刺去。 他将坐在那儿,即使有搜索的人会擦身而过,封锁线朝前移动,沿岛发出呜呜的报警声,可他仍然不会被抓住。 在羊齿草丛中拉尔夫往前钻动。木棒放在他的身旁,在黑暗中缩作一团。 他必须记住天一亮就得醒,这样才会骗过这群野蛮人。 ——他不知自己怎么一下子就睡着了,滑入了黑沉沉的梦乡之中。 拉尔夫醒了,但他并没有睁开眼睛,就这样倾听着近旁的喧闹声。 他睁开一只眼睛,看到松软的泥土几乎贴着脸庞,便把手指挖进泥土中去。 使他意识到漫长的下坠与死亡的恶梦已经过去,早晨来临了。 亮光从羊齿草的叶丛中筛漏进来,他又听到了声音。 在海岸边传过来的一种呜呜的喧闹声——此刻不断地有野蛮人在答应。 喊声从大海扫向环礁湖,象飞鸟的惊鸣,越过他、越过岛的狭窄的一头。 他没有时间多想,只是抓起他削尖了的木棒,扭动着身子爬回到羊齿草丛中。 几秒钟之内他就开始往乱丛棵子爬去;在爬进乱丛棵子之前,他就瞥见两条腿,一个野蛮人正朝他走来。 重重地踩踏着羊齿草,将羊齿草踩倒在地,长长的野草中走动的声音引起他的注意。一个野蛮人,不知是哪一个,呜呜地叫了两次;两个方向都有喊叫声在重复着,随后又消失了。 拉尔夫仍蹲伏着,缠在矮树丛之中,一时他什么也没听见。 最后他仔细察看这个矮树丛,确信没人能在这儿攻击他——而且他还有点运气。 那块砸死猪崽子的巨石蹦进了这个乱丛棵子,弹到了正中央,砸出一个几英尺见方的空地。 他一钻到这儿就使他感到安全,感到灵便起来。 砸断的枝干被他小心地坐着,他等待着搜寻者经过。 他抬头仰望穿过叶丛,瞥见一样红色的东西。 那一定是离他很远的城堡岩的顶部,此时对他不再具有威胁。 他怀着胜利的喜悦使自己镇静下来,听着搜索的声音缓缓消逝。 在绿荫丛中,没有人,也没有声音;随着时间一分钟一分钟地过去,他那胜利的感觉也慢慢地消失了。 最后,他听到一个声音——杰克把嗓门压得很低的声音。“你能肯定?” 被问的野蛮人并没出声,而是做了个手势。 罗杰开口了。“要是你敢耍弄我们——”在话音落定之后,响起了一声喘气声和痛苦的嚎叫声。 拉尔夫本能地蹲伏下去。双胞胎中的一个在乱丛棵子外面,跟杰克和罗杰在一起。 “你确信他打算躲在那里面?”双胞胎之一无力地呻吟着,接着又嚎叫起来。 “他是打算藏在那儿的吗?” “是的——是的——哎哟——!”一阵清脆的笑声在树林中响起了。 这么说他们全知道了。 木棒被拉尔夫拿起,准备撕打。可他们又能怎么样呢?他们得花一星期时间才能从乱丛棵子里劈出条路来;而谁要是钻进来,谁就会陷入孤立无援的境地。 矛尖被拉尔夫用大拇指摸着,咧开了嘴,可笑不出来。 谁要敢进来试试,他就要被扎得象野猪似地吱喳乱叫。 他们走开之后,回到高耸的岩石处去了。他能听得见离去的脚步声,还有人吃吃地笑。 沿着搜索线又响起了一阵象鸟叫似的呐喊声。 这说明有些人还在看守着,等他出来;但还有些人呢——?持续了好长一会儿的沉静很令人窒息。 拉尔夫发觉嘴里有从长矛上啃咬下来的树皮。 他站起来,然后仰首朝城堡岩窥探。 正当此时,他听见了杰克的话音从城堡岩顶上传来。 “嗨哟!嗨哟!嗨哟!”他能看得见的一块红色岩石象帘幕拉起来似的消失在悬崖顶上,他看见了人影和蓝天。 过了一会儿空中响起了巨大的刷刷声,大地震动起来,乱丛棵子顶象被一只巨手猛刮一下。 大石弹落下来,又猛烈地冲撞着一直滚向了海滩,一阵稀里哗啦的断枝残叶象下雨似的落到了他身上。那一伙人在乱丛棵子的另一面欢呼喝彩。 又静了下来。拉尔夫的手指被他塞进嘴里轻咬着。悬崖顶上只剩下一块岩石了,他们也许可能去推吧;而那块岩石就象半间茅舍那么大,大得象辆汽车、象辆坦克。 他很苦恼地、也十分清楚地想象巨石会怎样滚下来——开始时是慢慢的,从一块突出的架状岩石落到另一块,然后就象一辆特大的蒸汽压路机那样隆隆地滚过隘口。 “嗨哟!嗨哟!嗨哟!”拉尔夫放下长矛,接着又捡了起来。 头发被烦躁的他往后一捋,匆匆地在小空地上迈了两步,又折了回来。他站着注视起零乱的断树枝头。 又是一片寂静。他吃惊地看到自己的胸部一起一落呼吸得有多快。心跳的迹象都在胸膛稍偏左一点被看得很清楚。拉尔夫又把长矛放了下去。 “嗨哟!嗨哟!嗨哟!”一片拖长了的尖声欢呼。 什么东西在红岩石顶上发出了轰隆隆的响声,随即大地震动了一下,接着连续地颤抖起来,伴着隆隆声被弹到空中的拉尔夫,又摔了下来,撞到树杈上。 在他的右手方向被砸弯了的整片乱丛棵子,离他只几英尺远,树根从土中被拔起时吱吱嗄嗄地响。 他看见一个象水车轮子那样慢慢地翻滚下来的红色东西。 红色的东西滚了过去,这笨重的滚动过程渐渐地消失在了大海的远方。 拉尔夫跪在被翻起来的泥土中,等着大地平静下来。白色的断裂的残干余枝和杂乱的乱丛棵子不一会儿又回集到一起。 拉尔夫通过观察着自己的脉搏,觉得体内有一种沉重的感觉。 沉静的气氛再一次出现。 可还没有静到鸦雀无声的地步。 在外面他们低声地咕哝着什么;在他的右面忽然有两处树枝猛地摇动起来,一个木棒尖端冒出来了。 拉尔夫惊恐万状,他全力地刺着戳过裂缝的木棒。 “啊!”长矛被他的手稍稍一转,然后拔了回来。 “哦,哦——”在外面有人呻吟,一番叽里咕噜的交谈声响起了。 一场激烈的争论在继续,还有不停地哼着的受伤的野蛮人。 又静了下来,只有一个人在说话,拉尔夫判定那声音不象是杰克的。 “看见了吗?我曾告诉你们——他是个危险的家伙。”受伤的野蛮人又呻吟了。 他们还有什么办法?他们接下去要些什么?被啃咬过的长矛在长发披落的拉尔夫手里紧握着。 有谁在朝城堡岩方向只几码远的地方,低声咕哝。 一个野蛮人用一种震惊的声音说了声“不!”之后被他听到了;接着是被强压下去的笑声。 他往后蹲坐到自己的脚跟上,对着树枝形成的墙露了露牙齿。他把长矛举起并轻声地吼了一下,就这样等着。 又一次吃吃的笑声从看不见的人群中传来。他先听到一种慢慢地发出来的奇怪声音,接着是比较响的噼噼啪啪声,就象什么人在解开一大卷玻璃纸。 一根枝条啪地折断了,他忙捂住嘴咳嗽了一声。 从树枝的间隙中漏进一缕缕黄色、白色的浓烟来,头顶上的一方蓝天也变得灰暗起来,接着滚滚的浓烟围住了他。 兴奋的人大笑着,一个声音高喊:“烟!”他在浓烟下面尽量离烟远一点,扭动身子在乱丛棵子中朝森林的方向爬去。 开阔的空地和乱丛棵子边缘的绿叶不一会就被他看到了。一个涂得红一条白一条、手里拿着长矛的小野蛮人正站在他和森林的其余部分之间。 在咳嗽的小野蛮人用手背揉着眼睛,想透过越来越浓的烟来看东西,眼睛周围都被涂上了涂料。 拉尔夫象只猫似地窜了出去:一面号叫,一面用长矛猛戳,小野蛮人弯下了腰。 一声叫喊从乱丛棵子外边传出来,拉尔夫飞快地窜过矮灌木林丛,带着畏惧的心情奔跑着。 他来到一条野猪小道,沿着它跑了一百码左右,然后往旁边跑开去。 呜呜的叫声在他背后,又一次响遍全岛,有一个单独的声音被连喊了三次。 他猜那是号召前进的信号,于是又加快速度逃开,跑得他胸中简直象燃起了一堆火。 随后他为了使呼吸平静一点猛扑到一个矮灌木丛下,稍息一会儿。他的牙齿和嘴唇被他的舌头舔着,听到追逐者的呜呜叫声被拉开了一段距离。 他可以走许多路。他可以爬上一棵树——可那未免有点孤注一掷。 倘若发现了他,他们别的什么都不用干只要等着就行。 现在要是有时间想想该多好哇!呐喊从一个地方连续的传来了两声,使拉尔夫猜到了一点他们的意图。 任何在森林里受到了阻碍的野蛮人连叫两声,搜索线就会暂停下来,再继续向前要等他摆脱了障碍之后。 这样,他们就可以指望保持封锁线没有漏洞地扫过全岛。 那头野公猪被拉尔夫想起来了,它是那样轻而易举地冲破了他们的包围。 要是有必要的话,在他们追得太近的时候,他可以趁封锁线还拉得开,突破它,再往回跑去。 可往回跑到哪儿去呢?封锁线会来回地扫荡。他迟早总得吃东西,总得睡觉——那时候就会被人用手抓醒,把他拉尔夫捕捉到手,这才是搜寻的结果。 那又该怎么办呢?爬树吗?象野公猪似的冲破搜索线吗? 多可怕的两种选择。他又让一声叫喊吓得心惊肉跳,他跳起来朝大海和密林冲去,结果被缠绕在藤蔓丛中无法脱身;他腿肚子直哆嗦的在那儿呆了一会儿。 要是能够休战,多停一停,再想一想,那该多好哇! 而在那儿尖锐的呜呜叫喊声又无可避免地响起了横扫全岛。 只要一听到那种声音他就象一匹受惊的马似的从藤蔓中倒退出来,又一次飞跑起来,跑得上气不接下气。 在一簇羊齿草丛旁边他停了下来。 上树,还是突围? 他屏住呼吸,抹抹嘴,告诫自己镇静下来。 在搜索线中的某处还有萨姆纳里克的存在,他们恨这种勾当。或许,他们是不是在里面呢?如果不是碰到他们,而是碰上了要置自己于死地的头领或罗杰呢? 乱糟糟的头发经拉尔夫往后一掠变得整洁了,他又将眼睛上的汗水给抹去。他出声地说道:“想想看。” 怎样做才恰当呢?这个问题猪崽子再也不会来议论了。 不复存在了的海螺不可能再召开严肃的大会来争论了。 “想想看吧。”他最害怕的事情就是脑中会有帘幕摇晃起来,使他忘掉危险,成为一个傻瓜。 他的第三种想法是藏得太好了,以致往前推进中的搜索线没有发现他就走了过去。从地上他猛抬起头,侧耳倾听。 此刻有一种深沉的隆隆的嘈杂声需要他留心——似乎森林本身也在对他发怒,这是一种阴沉的响声,参杂其中的是就象什么东西在石板上乱涂乱划,难以忍受的呜呜乱叫声。 他没时间去回想以前在什么地方听到过这种声音。 突围。上树。躲藏起来,让他们过去。 拉尔夫被一个离他很近地方的声音吓得站起来,随即拔腿就逃,在多刺的荆棘丛中飞奔。 他猛地一头撞进了一块自己熟悉的空地——死猪头的嘴咧得很大,在那儿笑,这时不再是嘲笑一方湛蓝的天空,而是讥讽一片浓烟。 在树木下拉尔夫奔跑着,他明白了树林里的隆隆声是怎么回事。他们要用烟把他熏出来,在放火烧岛。 上树没有躲起来好,因为要是给发现了还有突围的机会。 那就躲起来吧。他想,不知它会不会同意,要是现在有一头野猪。他毫无对象地作了一个怪相。 找到岛上最密的乱丛棵子、最黑的洞子,然后爬进去。 这会儿,他边跑边窥探着四周。 肮脏的身上汗水流淌,被太阳的光柱和光斑照得一条条地闪闪发亮。此刻叫喊声远去了,声音也轻了。 后来他发现了一个似乎对他更合适的地方,尽管作出这种决定是不顾死活的。 在这儿,阳光被矮灌木丛和密缠在一起的藤蔓编成的一块“毯子”所挡住。 在这“毯子”的下面有一个约一英尺高的空间,伸往中心的水平方向的或向上长的细枝蔓延在四周。 要是往这当中钻进去,就会离灌木丛的边缘有五码远,如果野蛮人不趴下来是找不到他的,这是个好的藏身之地;即使在那种情况下,你也仍然在暗处——要是发生了最坏的情形,要是被他看到也是有机会突破整条搜索线,朝他冲去,让他们再往回跑一趟。 木棒被拉尔夫谨慎地拖在身后,在往上长的枝条中挪动着身子。 他到了“毯子”当中就躺下来倾听。烈火熊熊,他没有想到本以为甩在身后老远地方的擂鼓似的响声,此刻却更近了。 大火会比一匹奔驰的马跑得更快呢? 他可以从他躺的地方望出去,看到约五十码之外的一块地面布满了斑驳光影:他注视着那块地面,每一块光影上的阳光都在朝他一闪一亮。一时间他觉得那一闪一亮太象他脑海里飘动着的帘幕了。 但随后光影越闪越快,又暗淡下去,终于消失了,他看到太阳被岛上升起的滚滚浓烟所遮住。 有一种情况萨姆纳里克会一声不吭的装做没看见,那就是如果有人从矮灌木丛下窥探碰巧瞥见人体。 脸颊被拉尔夫贴到赭色的泥地上,舔着干裂的双唇,合上了双眼。 在微微地颤动着的大地,在乱丛棵子之下,在十分明显的熊熊大火的巨大声音的掩盖之下,在胡乱的呜呜叫声的掩盖之下,或许还有一种什么声音低得让人听不见。 有人在叫喊。拉尔夫勿忙地把脸从泥地上抬起来,朝暗淡的光线看去。 他想,这下他们准已逼近了,他的心开始怦怦直跳。 困难在于只有一次机会,躲藏、突围、上树——到底哪种法子最好呢?眼下大火烧得更近了;是大树枝,甚至是大树干爆裂的声响象枪炮齐鸣似的响声。 真是傻瓜!真是笨蛋!大火一定已经烧到野果树林了——明天他们吃什么呢?拉尔夫不安地在他那狭窄的藏身处骚动着。 一个人不能冒险!他们能干出点什么事情来呢?用一根两头削尖的木棒揍他?那又怎么样呢?杀了他吗? 他被从最近的地方突然发出的呐喊声吓得站了起来。 他看到从缠绕的绿叶丛中急匆匆地钻出一个手持长矛身上涂有条纹的野蛮人,他径直朝他藏身的“毯子”走来。 拉尔夫把手指抠进泥土。现在为以防万一而要作好一切准备……长矛被拉尔夫摸索着拿起来,把矛尖对着前面,这下他才发现这根木棒也是两头尖的。 野蛮人停在十五码开外,叫喊起来。 他也许能越过大火的嘈杂声听到我的心跳吧。别吱声。准备好。这野蛮人朝前走着,所以只看得见他的矛柄,那是他腰以下的部分。 现在你能看得见他膝盖以下的部分了。一定要保持安静。 一群吱喳乱叫的野猪从野蛮人背后的绿树丛中窜出了,一下子就冲进了森林。鸟儿在喳喳惊鸣,老鼠在吱吱尖叫,一个双足跳的小动物也被吓得钻到了“毯子”底下。野蛮人停在五码开外,正站在乱丛棵子旁边,又大叫起来。 脚被拉尔夫曲起来并蜷缩着。 两头尖的标椿在他的手里拿着,标椿颤抖得很厉害,仿佛一会儿长,一会儿短,一会儿轻,一会儿重,一会儿又轻。 从这块海岸传来的呜呜的叫声传向那块海岸。这野蛮人在乱丛棵子的边上跪下来,闪烁摇曳的光,在他背后的森林里。 看得出一只膝盖碰动了松软的泥土,接着又是一只膝盖,两只手,一根长矛。 一张面孔。野蛮人往乱丛棵子下面的阴暗处窥探。因此可以判断得出他在这一边和那一边都看见有光线,拉尔夫藏身处在中间看不见光线。当中是一团漆黑,野蛮人想弄清黑暗中有什么东西,苦恼地皱起额头。 时间在流逝。拉尔夫也直盯着野蛮人的双眼。 别吱声。 你该回去。 现在他看见你了并且想要看看清楚。 削尖的长矛。 拉尔夫发出一种恐怖的、愤怒的、绝望的惊叫。 他绷直了腿,惊叫声拖长了,并变得越发凶狠了。 他朝前一弹,冲出了乱丛棵子,在林间空地上狂吼乱嚎。 他挥舞标椿,将野蛮人打翻在地;然而还有别的野蛮人在大叫大嚷地朝他冲来。 拉尔夫忙侧身让过那支朝他飞来的长矛,也不再喊叫,赶快逃开去。 突然,在他面前一道道光线闪烁着混合成一片,森林的吼叫变成雷鸣般的响声,挡在他正前面路上的一簇高大的灌木,被熊熊的火焰烧得形状象一把巨大的扇子。 他朝右一折,拼命地飞跑,在他左面,火焰象一股潮流滚滚向前,紧逼着他。他的身后又响起了表示看到猎物的呜呜的叫声,还有一连串短促而尖响的叫声——这声音在传扬开来。 在他的右边出现了一个褐色的人影,随之又消失了。 他们全在奔跑,在发疯似地喊叫。 他听得见他们在下层林丛中咔嚓咔嚓的脚步声;而在他左边是发出很大声响的熊熊烈火,热气腾腾。 他把自己的创伤和饥渴忘掉了,心惊胆战;一面在飞快地逃跑,一面充满了绝望的恐惧,他冲过森林,直奔开阔的海滩。 在他眼前光斑闪烁,并变成了一个个红色的圆圈,这些圆圈飞快地扩展着,然后又消失了。 在他的下面,那双腿变得越来越沉重,似乎是别人的了,几乎就要落到头顶上的令人绝望的呜呜叫声就象充满威胁的一排排锯齿朝前推进。 一个树根把他绊倒在地,追逐的喊叫声更响了。 他看到一座窝棚烧成一团,火焰在他的右肩方向噼啪作响,还看见闪闪发亮的海水。 然后他翻了下去,在暖乎乎的沙滩上滚呀滚呀,蜷曲着身子,双臂举起保护头部,想要大声讨饶。 他一摇一摆地站起来,更进一步的种种恐怖等着他去承受,抬头一看,只见一顶帽顶是白色的,绿色帽檐上有王冠、海锚和金色的叶饰的大盖帽。 他看到了肩章,白斜纹布军服,左轮手枪,制服上一排从上到下的镀金的钮扣。 一个海军军官正站在沙滩上,吃惊而又警惕地俯视着拉尔夫。 有一艘小汽艇在军官后面的海滩边上,由两个海军士兵拉着将艇首拖到海滩上。还有个士兵在艇尾部持着一挺轻机枪。 呜呜的叫声颤抖着,渐渐消失了。 军官疑惑地打量了拉尔夫一下,随后挪开了那只挟着左轮手枪的枪柄上的手。 “哈罗。” 拉尔夫扭了扭感觉很肮脏的身子,难为情地回答了一声。“哈罗。” 军官点点头,预示着已经得到了一个问题的答案。 “有没有成人——任何大人跟你们在一起?”拉尔夫呆呆地摇摇头。 他在沙滩上侧身转了半步。 一群小孩子身上用有颜色的泥土涂得一条条的,手中都拿着削尖的木棒,默不作声地围成半个圆圈站在海滩上。 “在闹着玩吧,”军官说道。烈火已经毕毕剥剥地烧着,吞噬着海滩边的椰子树林。一团似乎是离开的火焰,象个杂技演员似的摇来晃去,窜上平台上的椰子林树梢。天空黑沉沉的。 军官咧开嘴快活地笑着对拉尔夫说:“我们看到了你们的烟。你们一直在打仗还是在干什么?” 拉尔夫点点头。 军官细察着他面前的这个小稻草人。 这个小孩儿该好好洗洗,剪剪头发,擦擦鼻子,多上点软膏。 “我希望没人被杀吧?有没有死人?” “只有两具已经不见了的尸体。” 军官朝前倾下身子,仔细地看着拉尔夫。“两具?被杀的?” 拉尔夫又点了点头。 大火烧得整个岛屿震颤不已。 军官明白拉尔夫没有说假话,他象通常的情况一样,轻轻地吹了一声口哨。 此刻其余的孩子中有些是小娃儿的也都出来了,是些挺着胀鼓鼓肚子的褐色的小野蛮人。 有一个小娃儿走到军官身旁,仰起头来说:“我是,我是——” 然而他再也没有说什么了。 珀西佛尔•威密斯•麦迪逊拼命搜寻那些已经被忘得精光在脑子里的咒语。 军官转身对拉尔夫说:“我们要带你们走。你们一共多少人?” 拉尔夫摇摇头。 军官的目光越过他向一群身上涂着颜色的孩子们看去。“这里谁是头儿?” “我是,”拉尔夫响亮地回答。 一个红头发的男孩朝前走来,他头上戴着一顶已经很破烂的、式样特别的黑帽子,腰里系着一副破碎眼镜,可随后又改变了主意,站定在那里不动了。 “我们看到了你们的烟。可你们却不知道自己共有多少人?” “是的,先生。” “我本以为,”军官说,一个所有孩子都在搜寻拉尔夫的情况浮现在他的脑海中,“我本以为一群英国孩子——你们都是英国人吧,是不是?——应该比刚才那样玩得更好——我是说——” “起初是玩得很好的,”拉尔夫说,“可后来——”他不说话了。 “后来我们一起——” 军官鼓励地点点头。“我知道了。弄得真的象珊瑚岛那样。” 拉尔夫木然地看着他。 一时他脑海里闪过那曾经给海滩蒙上过神奇魅力的图画。 然而这个岛被烧焦得象枯树一样——西蒙死了—— 杰克已经…… 拉尔夫止不住热泪滚滚,全身抽搐地呜咽起来。 这是他上岛以来第一次尽情地哭;他的整个身子仿佛被巨大的悲痛一阵阵地抽搐,扭成了一团。 头上黑烟翻滚,拉尔夫面对着正被烧毁的岛屿,而哭得一发不可收拾;别的小孩似有同感,也颤抖着抽泣起来。 在这伙孩子当中有肮脏不堪,蓬头散发,连鼻子都未擦擦的拉尔夫;他为童心的泯灭和人性的黑暗而悲泣,为忠实而有头脑的朋友猪崽子坠落惨死而悲泣。 军官被这一片哭声所感动了,有点儿不知所措。他转过身去;眼睛看着远处那艘漂亮的巡洋舰,让他们有时间镇定一下,他等待着。 Chapter 13 Notes on Lord of the Flies   ((*The above Notes pretend to be no more than a series of reflections on aspects of LORD OF THE FLIES. An exhaustive study of its symbolism has not yet been attempted.))      In answer to a publicity questionnaire from the American publishers of LORD OF THE FLIES, William Golding (born Cornwall, 1911) declared that he was brought up to be a scientist, and revolted; after two years of Oxford he changed his educational emphasis from science to English literature, and became devoted to Anglo- Saxon. After publishing a volume of poetry he "wasted the next four years," and when Word War II broke out he joined the Royal Navy. For the next five years he was involved in naval matters except for a few months in New York and six months with Lord Cherwell in a "research establishment." He finished his naval career as a lieutenant in command of a rocket ship; he had seen action against battleships, submarines and aircraft, and had participated in the Walcheren and D-Day operations. After the war he began teaching and writing. Today, his novels include LORD OF THE FLIES (Coward-McCann), THE INHERITORS (which may loosely be described as a novel of prehistory but is, like all of Golding's work, much more), and PINCHER MARTIN published in hardcover by Harcourt Brace as THE TWO DEATHS OF CHRISTOPHER MARTIN). He lists his Hobbies as thinking, classical Greek, sailing and archaeology, and his Literary Influences as Euripides and the anonymous Anglo-Saxon author of THE BATTLE OF MALDON.   The theme of LORD OF THE FLIES is described by Golding as follows (in the same publicity questionnaire): "The theme is an attempt to trace the defects of society back to the defects of human nature. The moral is that the shape of a society must depend on the ethical nature of the individual and not on any political system however apparently logical or respectable. The whole book is symbolic in nature except the rescue in the end where adult life appears, dignified and capable, but in reality enmeshed in the same evil as the symbolic life of the children on the island. The officer, having interrupted a man-hunt, prepares to take the children off the island in a cruiser which will presently be hunting its enemy in the same implacable way. And who will rescue the adult and his cruiser?"   This is, of course, merely a casual summing-up on Mr. Golding's part of his extremely complex and beautifully woven symbolic web which becomes apparent as we follow through the book, but it does indicate that LORD OF THE FLIES is not, to say the least, a simple adventure story of boys on a desert island. In fact, the implications of the story go far beyond the degeneration of a few children. What is unique about the work of Golding is the way he has combined and synthesized all of the characteristically twentieth-century methods of analysis of the human being and human society and used this unified knowledge to comment on a "test situation." In this book, as in few others at the present time, are findings of psychoanalysis of all schools, anthropologists, social psychologists and philosophical historians mobilized into an attack upon the central problem of modern thought: the nature of the human personality and the reflection of personality on society.   Another feature of Golding's work is the superb use of symbolism, a symbolism that "works." The central symbol itself, the "lord of the flies," is, like any true symbol, much more than the sum of its parts; but some elements of it may be isolated. The "lord of the flies" is a translation of the Hebrew Ba'alzevuv (Beelzebub in Greek). It has been suggested that it was a mistranslation of a mistransliterated word which gave us this pungent and suggestive name for the Devil, a devil whose name suggests that he is devoted to decay, destruction, demoralization, hysteria and panic and who therefore fits in very well with Golding's theme.   The Devil is not present in any traditional religious sense; Golding's Beelzebub is the modern equivalent, the anarchic, amoral, driving force that Freudians call the Id, whose only function seems to be to insure the survival of the host in which it is embedded or embodied, which function it performs with tremendous and single-minded tenacity. Although it is possible to find other names for this force, the modern picture of the personality, whether drawn by theologians or psychoanalysts, inevitably includes this force or psychic structure as the fundamental principle of the Natural Man. The tenets of civilization, the moral and social codes, the Ego, the intelligence itself, form only a veneer over this white-hot power, this uncontrollable force, "the fury and the mire of human veins." Dostoievsky found salvation in this freedom, although he found damnation in it also. Yeats found in it the only source of creative genius ("Whatever flames upon the night, Man's own resinous heart has fed."). Conrad was appalled by this "heart of darkness," and existentialists find in the denial of this freedom the source of perversion of all human values. Indeed one could, if one were so minded, go through the entire canon of modern literature, philosophy and psychology and find this great basic drive defined as underlying the most fundamental conclusions of modem thought.   The emergence of this concealed, basic wildness is the theme of the book; the struggle between Ralph, the representative of civilization with his parliaments and his brain trust (Piggy, the intellectual whose shattering spectacles mark the progressive decay of rational influence as the story progresses), and Jack, in whom the spark of wildness burns hotter and closer to the surface than in Ralph and who is the leader of the forces of anarchy on the island, is also, of course, the struggle in modern society between those same forces translated onto a worldwide scale.   The turning point in the struggle between Ralph and Jack is the killing of the sow (pp. 133--144). The sow is a mother: "sunk in deep maternal bliss lay the largest of the lot . . . the great bladder of her belly was fringed with a row of piglets that slept or burrowed and squeaked." The killing of the sow is accomplished in terms of sexual intercourse.      They were just behind her when she staggered into an open space where bright flowers grew and butterflies danced round each other and the air was hot and still.   Here, struck down by the heat, the sow fell and the hunters hurled themselves at her. This dreadful eruption from an unknown world made her frantic; she squealed and bucked and the air was full of sweat and noise and blood and terror. Roger ran round the heap, prodding with his spear whenever pigflesh appeared. Jack was on top of the sow, stabbing downward with his knife. Roger (a natural sadist, who becomes the "official" torturer and executioner for the tribe) found a lodgment for his point and began to push till he was leaning with his whole weight. The spear moved forward inch by inch, and the terrified squealing became a high-pitched scream. Then Jack found the throat and the hot blood spouted over his hands. The sow collapsed under them and they were heavy and fulfilled upon her. The butterflies still danced, preoccupied in the center of the clearing.      The pig's head is cut off; a stick is sharpened at both ends and "jammed in a crack" in the earth. (The death planned for Ralph at the end of the book involves a stick sharpened at both ends.) The pig's head is impaled on the stick; ". . . the head hung there, a little blood dribbling down the stick. Instinctively the boys drew back too; and the forest was very still. They listened, and the loudest noise was the buzzing of flies over the spilled guts." Jack offers this grotesque trophy to "the Beast," the terrible animal that the littler children had been dreaming of, and which seems to be lurking on the island wherever they were not looking. The entire incident forms a horrid parody of an Oedipal wedding night; these emotions, the sensations aroused by murder and death, and the overpowering and unaccustomed emotions of sexual love experienced by the half-grown boys, plus their own irrational fears and blind terrors, release the forces of death and the devil on the island.   After this occurs the most deeply symbolic incident in the book, the "interview" of Simon, an embryo mystic, with the head. The head seems to be saying, to Simon's heightened perceptions, that "everything was a bad business. . . . The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life." Simon fights with all his feeble power against the message of the head, against the "ancient, inescapable recognition," the recognition of human capacities for evil and the superficial nature of human moral systems. It is the knowledge of the end of innocence, for which Ralph is to weep at the close of the book. "'Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!' said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoes with the parody of laughter. 'You knew, didn't you? I'm part of you? Close, close, close! I'm the reason why it's no go? Why things are what they are?'   "At the end of this fantastic scene Simon imagines he is looking into a vast mouth. "There was blackness within, a blackness that spread. . . . Simon was inside the mouth. He fell down and lost consciousness." This mouth, * the symbol of ravenous, unreasoning and eternally insatiable nature, appears again in PINCHER MARTIN, in which the development of the theme of a Nature inimical to the conscious personality of man is developed in a stunning fashion. In LORD OF THE FLIES, however, only the outline of a philosophy is sketched, and the boys of the island are figures in a parable or fable which like all great parables or fables reveals to the reader an intimate, disquieting connection between the innocent, time-passing, story-telling aspect of its surface and the great, "dimly appreciated" depths of its interior.      ((* cf. Conrad's "Heart of Darkness": "I saw (the dying Kurtz) open his mouth wide--it gave him a weirdly voracious aspect, as though he wanted to swallow all the air, all the earth, all the men before him." Indeed Golding seems very close to Conrad, both in basic principles and in artistic method.)) The End