Well, here it is. The very long awaited chapter four.
Enjoy.
I sit in a less dense part of the jungle near the edge where there is still sand, humming and weaving a crown of flowers. Their sweet scent is pleasant and reminds me of spring back in England.
The boys had left down the beach some bit ago, and I am glad, as I felt like being alone for a while.
All of a sudden I hear a yell echo across the island, not an urgent yell, but an angry one.
I get up and attempt to rid my clothes of the sand that seem to be an everlasting part of me now. I walk towards the sound in the distance and soon begin to hear the mixture of yelling as well as speaking. Far down the shore I see the boys standing near something giving off a great deal of smoke. I hear arguing and decide to investigate.
"—that's what I said!" I pick out of the yelling.
Fragmented sentences call out of the group, and they continue to yell louder.
"I've got the conch!" calls above the rest, but the boys continue to yell as loud as a group of geese.
I get close enough to smell the smoke, and Ralph turns the moment I look to him, locking eyes with me. We quickly break eye contact as a voice calls from my left.
"Annie!" calls a voice indiscernible amongst the crowd.
"And here I thought you wandered away into the forest and got eaten by the beasty," taunts Jack.
I roll my eyes at his remark and address the other pressing matter.
"What were you boys yelling about, and why could I see a cloud of smoke from down the beach?"
"We was building a small fire—," starts Piggy.
"You got your small fire alright," taunts a voice in the assembly.
"Oh, shut up!" scowls Piggy.
Ralph yanks the conch from Piggy's grasp.
"We've got to have special people for looking after the fire. Any day there may be a ship out there—"
Ralph waves his arm towards 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."
Jack holds his hand out for the conch expectantly, and Ralph obliges passing it off to the taller boy.
"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 turns 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' brings a spatter of applause from the boys, so that Jack grins at them, then waves 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."
It is as if until now we had all forgotten that we would be here longer than a few days, and a grave mood washes over the assembly.
"And we'll be responsible for keeping a lookout too. If we see a ship out there—"
We all follow the direction of his long arm with our eyes.
"—we'll put green branches on. Then there'll be more smoke."
Roger takes the conch and looks round at us gloomily.
"I've been watching the sea. There hasn't been the trace of a ship. Perhaps we'll never be rescued."
"But now you boys have gone and used up all your firewood in this mess—," I say, pointing at the charred disaster that sits burning and smoking several feet away.
"How come she don't got to have the conch to speak!" calls a voice.
"Shut up," Ralph warns, and he looks towards me.
My cheeks burn, and I quickly glance away.
Somehow Piggy had ended up with the conch, and attempts to catch the attention of the crowd.
"We got to let that burn out now, there ain't nothing we can do. We ought to be more careful. I'm scared—"
Jack drags his eyes away from the fire.
"You're always scared. Yah–Fatty!"
"I got the conch," says Piggy bleakly.
He turns to Ralph, "I got the conch, ain't I Ralph?"
Unwillingly Ralph turns away from the splendid, awful sight.
"What's that?"
"The conch. I got a right to speak."
The twins giggle together, "We wanted smoke–"
"Now look–!"
A pall stretches for miles away from the island. All the boys except Piggy start to giggle; presently they are shrieking with laughter.
Piggy loses 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 go howling and screaming up this here mountain. Like a pack of kids!"
By now everyone is listening to the tirade.
"How can you expect to be rescued if you don't put first things first and act proper?"
He takes off his glasses and makes as if to put down the conch; but the sudden motion toward it of most of the older boys appears to change his mind. He tucks the shell under his arm, and crouches 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 pauses for breath, and the fire growls at us.
"And that's not all. Them kids. The littleuns. Who took any notice of 'em? Who knows how many we got?"
Ralph takes a sudden step forward.
"I told you to. I told you to get a list of names!"
"How could I," cries 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?"
"Eleven," I call.
Faces look towards me in confusion.
"There are eleven littleuns on the island," I clarify.
"How could I have known that with them littleuns 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–-"
" 'cause they're not that hard to count when you actually pay attention to who they are," I retort.
"—and them littleuns was wandering about down there where the fire is. How d'you know they aren't still there?"
Piggy stands up and points to the smoke and flames. A murmur rises among the boys and dies away. Something strange starts happening to Piggy, for he starts gasping for breath.
"That littleun—" gasps Piggy.
"—him with the mark on his face, I don't see him. Where is he now?"
The crowd is as silent as death.
"Him that talked about the snakes. He was down there–-"
A tree explodes in the fire like a bomb. Tall swathes of creepers rise for a moment into view, agonized, and go down again. The little boys scream at them.
"Everyone calm down, I'm sure everyone is okay, he probably wandered off and is perfectly fine—," I attempt to assure the boys, but my words are lost in the sea of panic.
"Shut up you lot!" yells Jack, and the boys hush to a murmur.
"I'm sure he'll show up later, everyone just calm down and come help me start to build huts," Ralph instructs.
Groans sound through the crowd, and the group begins to walk back towards the cove of the beach where we have decided to make camp.
I begin to walk back with the boys, but I feel a gaze on me as I move. From the corner of my eye I see it; Ralph staring at me.