Повелитель мух / Lord of the Flies

The beach between the palm terrace and the water was a thin stick, endless apparently, for to Ralph’s left the perspectives of palm and beach and water drew to a point at infinity; and always, almost visible, was the heat.

He jumped down from the terrace. The sand was thick over his black shoes and the heat hit him. He became conscious of the weight of clothes, kicked his shoes off fiercely and ripped off each stocking with its elastic garter in a single movement. Then he leapt back on the terrace, pulled off his shirt, and stood there among the skull-like coconuts with green shadows from the palms and the forest sliding over his skin.

He undid the snake-clasp of his belt, lugged off his shorts and pants, and stood there naked, looking at the dazzling beach and the water.

He was old enough, twelve years and a few months, to have lost the prominent tummy of childhood and not yet old enough for adolescence to have made him awkward. You could see now that he might make a boxer, as far as width and heaviness of shoulders went, but there was a mildness about his mouth and eyes that proclaimed no devil.

He patted the palm trunk softly, and, forced at last to believe in the reality of the island laughed delightedly again and stood on his head. He turned neatly on to his feet, jumped down to the beach, knelt and swept a double armful of sand into a pile against his chest. Then he sat back and looked at the water with bright, excited eyes.

“Ralph—”

The fat boy lowered himself over the terrace and sat down carefully, using the edge as a seat.

“I’m sorry I been such a time. Them fruit—”

He wiped his glasses and adjusted them on his button nose. The frame had made a deep, pink “V” on the bridge. He looked critically at Ralph’s golden body and then down at his own clothes. He laid a hand on the end of a zipper that extended down his chest.

“My auntie—”

Then he opened the zipper with decision and pulled the whole wind-breaker over his head.

“There!”

Ralph looked at him sidelong and said nothing.

“I expect we’ll want to know all their names,” said the fat boy, “and make a list. We ought to have a meeting.”

Ralph did not take the hint so the fat boy was forced to continue.

“I don’t care what they call me,” he said confidentially, “so long as they don’t call me what they used to call me at school.”

Ralph was faintly interested.