CHAPTER ELEVEN
Obscura
THE SLOOP ROCKED slowly to the beach, and the children ran out to meet it when the wreck began to caress the pebbly froth. Rachel got her rope and tied it to various fixtures, then the company formed two lines of a pleated "V" and heaved the hull far up the beach. Once the sloop was nestling the edge of the forest the boys collapsed on the sand, and the woman clambered into the cabin to look dubiously at the splintered interior. The radio was now clearly beyond repair; to her surprise she saw creatures already beginning to make a home for themselves on and around the brine-coated panels. In her mind's eye she suddenly saw the wreck as it would be in half a century, covered by creepers, half-buried in sand, with the vitiated hull ocean-crusted by crustaceans. Nature would make it beautiful.
She sighed out her sorrow and rejoined the older children, who relinquished the boat to the more inquisitive youngsters. Already Johnny was Captain Smollett. As Rachel was a school teacher, she could now put a name to almost every face around her; she thought wistfully of the kids she had left behind on her own island, and looked about to find a replacement for each archetype. There was Jack, troubled and sullen, sitting in the shadow of the boat and picking at a barnacle. There was Percival, anxious and ill, pining for his mother even more than the others. There was Bill, staunch and inscrutable, an adult waiting to happen. Her eyes rested on Ralph, and her opinion of him was more favourable. He was handsome, and kind in a dutiful way – a little bland, even. He would grow up to be a marine biologist, or something very near to whatever he would profess to dream about. She tried to picture him in half a century as well, but it was difficult. He seemed inherently boyish, all sunny hair and blemishless skin.
She saw him scan the beach for somebody, and his face showed puzzlement, then mild disturbance. The boy scrambled over to where Rachel was kneeling, and murmured, 'Roger's gone.'
The black-haired child had indeed disappeared, and whether he had faded into the night or the morning sun the wondering duo could only guess.
Rachel shrugged and said, 'I wouldn't worry about him. He knows where we are.'
Ralph turned to the forest. 'I'm not worried about him. I'm worried by what he might do.' He remembered the destruction on the beach a few nights before, and pictured the sloop meeting a similar end, the children scattering in every direction, their eyes alight as the flames danced and cackled… He shook his head, and spoke before Rachel could mollify him again. He did not want to be comforted. 'I think it's time we were off,' he said briskly, and calling to his cohort he commenced the operation: 'Jack!'
UNDERNEATH THE FLUORESCENT Julyshine, five boys slunk towards the rocky side of the island. Ralph and Jack led the way, with Robert, Bill and Maurice in tow; the group trundled over familiar paths and clearings, following the stream for a while before it vanished, then took to the pig run before it too petered out. The ocean now a distant growl behind them, the smell of earth and green became pervasive, and the shadows cast by the patchwork of branches high above were almost tactile. Though weapons were not deemed necessary for this adventure, Ralph retained Jack's knife and the former chief held a spear to cut through the foliage, perhaps truly trusted by his companion for the first time. The other three, while mute and neutered, were nevertheless enthused by the prospect of a journey with a definite purpose. The solemn, expectant band travelled silently through the dense forest, and halted when they reached their first landmark.
'This is the hill,' Ralph told the others, unaware that Jack had seen it the previous day. 'We have to get to the top then find a way down the other side.'
Without hesitation he set off up the crude path that wound halfway up the hill, but when he reached the place where it tapered out he remembered the narrow vista through which he had glimpsed the grave, and wondered whether to tell the others about it. On an obscure impulse he decided not to. He could not tell why. Defensively he stood on the spot from where the cross could be seen, and pretended to help the others begin the more difficult climb. Finally all five were at the top of the hill, panting at the peak of day. The proud sun beat apricot rays through the trees over and around them, dappling the myrtle ground with spots of gold and silver. Ralph wiped his soaking forehead then pressed on, powered by restless curiosity. The man in the bunker had said the other one would arrive at one of four points, and as there were five boys…
The direction Ralph had been instructed to follow turned away from the site of the underground rooms, leftward into denser vegetation. Jack swished away flying insects from his head, and asked, 'You're sure the enemy will come today?'
The word 'enemy' gave Ralph a thrill in his chest and thighs. He nodded at Jack and said, 'The man in the bunker thinks so. He's been observing his habits for about a week.'
'I still think it's odd how he never contacted us,' grimaced Jack. 'After all, who would we tell? What danger are we?'
Ralph had a dogged look. 'He has to make sure it's safe before we can leave,' he reiterated. 'Anyway, if he told the group half of them would be hysterical. You saw what they were like with imaginary beasts.'
'What we were like,' said Jack in a small voice. Ralph was silent.
Soon the trees were so close together that the group had to travel in single file. Jack chopped at the branches viciously, then glimpsed brighter light ahead. The smell of the ocean reached his nostrils. 'I think we're almost there.' Sure enough, the forest ended suddenly, and Jack found himself a few feet away from a rocky cliff. The dark rocks tumbled chaotically down to the sea, diverging into coves and crevices, where silver waves rushed in smoothly, tempered by the encompassing coral half a mile away.
Ralph was thrilled. 'This is it! Now we have to find a safe way down, and take a cove each to keep watch over. Maurice, you stay at the top so you can run for help in case anything happens.' Maurice scowled lightly but accepted his post. Ralph had chosen him to stay in order to separate him from Bill, for to his mind they made an abject pair. Besides, Bill was the more indignant, and Ralph wanted to appease him by giving him an important role. Robert would do whatever he was told.
Feeling satisfied with his administrative power, Ralph scrambled to the edge of the cliff and picked out the best route down. The rocks were rough and weathered, and the four boys grazed their feet and hands severely as they clambered down to the natural walls that separated the inlets. Each one had a beach of sharp sand, over which the waves ran, keen and translucent. Ralph designated a cove to the other three, and selected the farthest one for himself. Good leaders must do their share, he thought.
Rachel had stayed behind on the beach, more out of concern for the younger children than anxiety about the trek of the older ones. Ralph had brought her watch with him; he stroked it as he sat in a cosy hollow in the rockface, consoled by its hard precision. It was a memento from a receding civilisation. Partially covered by stark shadows, from his shelf he could see a wide slice of the ocean. The time was half past eleven. Already the day felt itchingly long, and loaded with potential adventure. He hugged his knees as he stared out at the taut ridges of water that stretched for miles before him. Which if any of the five boys would spot the intruder first?
Ralph's stomach grumbled. A fly buzzed close to his ear and he flinched; it flew back to the forest, entranced. Noon came and went. The sun itself seemed tired, and unable to break through the sickly clouds that had gathered over the island and made the day seem premature and wasted. Perhaps the man would come by night? Ralph wondered if the enemy knew of the nameless man…
At the edge of the treeline above the other four, Maurice surveyed the arching ten-mile radius of ocean, and began to feel that the vast, imposing depths were rising up above his head, as if indignant at being scrutinised. This sea wanted to hide him, to obscure all transgressions. He was fleetingly amazed that so many of the children had survived. Maurice's daydreams began in the sunshine and ended with the last rays; what disrupted his reflections was a low-flying bird, grey against the navy sea, seeming to hover about half a mile away. With his insoluble thoughts receding with the daylight, Maurice stiffened as he realised the distant shape was no bird. It was a boat. He stared, thrilled and breathless, then began to climb down to the rocky coves. Bill's was the nearest; Maurice leapt down to the beach, startling the watcher, and hissed, 'There's a boat out there!' He sent him off to tell Ralph, then scrambled back up the ridges at top speed to relocate the silent shape. It was much nearer now, and unequivocally man-made. Maurice was half gratified to see the sleek craft gliding through the water, even if there was menace and mystery in its presence.
Down in the last cove Ralph was surprised to see Bill arrive panting and wide-eyed with the news of Maurice's revelation. The blond boy jumped from his hollow and peered desperately into the two black halves in front of him. He heard the boat approaching before he saw it: steady wooden swishes cutting through the heavy waves. 'Come on,' he said to Bill, and led him past the other coves to the incline, rousing a sheepish Robert, who had fallen asleep, on the way. The fivesome reunited and gazed down at the lagoon.
They saw a long, low canoe approaching the cove where Robert had been posted. Ralph found time to give the negligent watcher a sharp nudge in the side with his elbow, but the boy barely noticed the pain, for the inhabitants of the craft made a petrifying sight.
Five figures occupied the canoe, four with matt-black skin, each with a paddle, the fifth a white, red-headed man dressed in plain khaki, sitting behind the others near the stern. The five boys silently recognised him from Ralph's description – so the enemy was near – yet this man was not the spectacle that held their gazes. It was the four dark-skinned rowers, for their naked bodies were daubed with white stripes that caught the moonlight and shone like painted snakes on a black canvas. Their limbs, chests and faces were all adorned with the zebra-like patterns, and curious hieroglyphics decorated their foreheads, each one unique: a hollow circle; a Cupidic bow; a trapezoid with a trapped sphere; a pair of devilish horns. The boys crouched like statues as they watched this otherworldly group slide into the cove; the four dark men jumped out of the canoe and pulled it far up to the dry rocks. Then the white man stood up and joined them on the sand.
Ralph sensed a primitive acuity in the dark ones, and was thankful that the coastal wind was blowing his way, for he felt sure that otherwise the group below would have smelt them out as soon as they had landed. He motioned the others to retreat into the safety of the forest, then glanced back to the cove. Already the visitors were clambering with alarming agility over the rocks towards the watchers' position, and Ralph darted away to join the others. The sight of those white streaks and symbols had filled his soul with a resounding and impenetrable foreboding.