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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.
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Lord of the Flies
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.
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Lord of the Flies
"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
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