And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.
As if,' said Simon, 'the beastie, the beastie or the snake-thing, was real. Remember?'
There had grown up tacitly among the biguns the opinion that Piggy was an outsider, not only by accent, which did not matter, but by fat, and ass-mar, and specs, and a certain disinclination for manual labor.
The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.
We ought to have more rules.
Piggy moved among the crowd, asking names and frowning to remember them. The children gave him the same simple obedience that they had given to the man with the megaphones.
Bollocks to the rules! We’re strong – we hunt! If there’s a beast, we’ll hunt it down! We’ll close in and beat and beat and beat!
I ought to be chief,' said Jack with simple arrogance, 'because I’m chapter chorister and head boy. I can sing C sharp.'
Jack stood up as he said this, the bloodied knife in his hand. The two boys faced each other. There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics, fierce exhilaration, skill; and there was the world of longing and baffled commonsense.
What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages?
There aren’t any grownups. We shall have to look after ourselves.
Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of a true, wise friend called Piggy.