Chapter one




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CHAPTER TEN 
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 chiefs 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 
tour 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. 
"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 rocks 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 ifby a fl aw 
ofwind.The chiefsaw the effectofhis 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. 
"Yes?"' 
"What'll we use for lighting the fire?" 
The chiefs 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 well hunt 
and get meat. Tonight Ill 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 well 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 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 about, 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 skate d to a consideration ofa 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 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 ana 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 bad 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. Honestly 
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, 1 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 
at 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 chiefs 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 them, 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. 



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