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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?"
Piggy was … so full of pride in his contribution to the good of society … that he helped to fetch wood.
"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?"
"Which is better—to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?"
The rock struck Piggy a glancing blow from chin to knee; the conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist.
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.
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