I spent a weekend with Jack, one of the shipwrecked boys. He currently resides in Texas where he owns his own ranch.
“Unfortunately Jack was unable to come and meet you this morning, he is currently in town attending some urgent business.” The man said. I wondered who this man was, he had an air of strength, he seemed a strong character and that was one of the few things I knew of Jack for certain. Ralph had made that very clear, he was definitely a strong character. He announced himself as Jacks son, Roger. I’d known Jack had a son but I hadn’t know his age or where abouts.

I was slightly angry that Jack wasn’t here to greet me himself but I decided to let it slip, this weekend had been a couple of months in planning and he knew well in advance when I was due to arrive. I made a mental note to ask him about this urgent business when he arrived later on.
Despite Jack not being here I decided to waste no time in getting some information out of his son. I questioned him as to his fathers time on the island, but he only seemed to let on to know as much as I already did. I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth as of yet, or whether he was hiding something, but he seemed quite reluctant to talk about the subject in detail. Sensing this reluctance I decided to ask him more about what his father has been up to since he returned home, and since he moved out to Texas.
“Well, dad lived in Scotland for about 10 years when he returned home. He lived with on his uncles’ estate with their family. He didn’t return to school, instead choosing to work various maintenance jobs around the nearby villages. It was on one of those jobs he met the woman to become his first wife. Unfortunately she died in a tragic accident three months after their wedding and Dad left for Texas. He met my mum and they were married after a couple of years. Just over a year ago dad was taken to hospital while I was away with friends. I came home to find him there and mum gone. We haven’t seen her since. And dad wouldn’t tell me what had happened.”
Tears welled in his eyes and he fell silent. I could see that this was a very emotional time in his life. I decided there was no need to probe any further. Roger sensed that there was no need to continue and took me on a tour of the ranch.
It wasn’t long after the tour that Jack arrived home. I greeted him at the front door and he shook my hand, a smile on his face. I couldn’t help but feel that the smile was somewhat forced and that he had only accepted my offer of the interview because Ralph had before him. Roger excused himself and left for town, leaving me alone with Jack. A perfect time to start questioning him. I decided to start off small and just ask about his life since he returned home.
“So since you were rescued what have you been doing with yourself? I suppose that there isn’t a lot that seems challenging after spending so much timed stranded on an island.”
Sure enough, he just clarified everything Roger had said. Strangely enough he didn’t mention his time in hospital but just stated that his wife had left him for another man and I decided to leave that subject, not wanting to bring back bad memories and for us to get off on the wrong foot, and move onto the island. I asked, “At the time did you really believe you were going to get rescued? Or was there a bit of you that secretly resigned itself to a life on the island?”
“At the time I was sure of rescue. But I was so naïve, we all were. We didn’t really understand the seriousness of the situation that we were in. Ralph was sure his dad would come and rescue us. And I was sure we were going to be rescued. The world, at the time, was a huge mystery to us, outside of England. We didn’t really know where we were and we didn’t realize that no-one actually knew where we had crashed.”
“I can’t imagine how it must have felt to be there. So how did you cope with getting things done did you have a leader?” Jack nodded. “Did the leadership help shorten your stay on the island do you think? What did you do to try and get yourselves rescued?”
“Leadership was obviously one of the most important aspects of being stranded on the island, along with discipline. Ralph was wrongly elected leader, it should have been me. The choir knew it, I knew it and Ralph certainly knew it. But I decided to not linger on it and just let him get on with it. The other boys would realize soon enough that I was the correct choice for leader.”
“Not getting chosen as leader, that must have made you wonder what the others thought of you. What was going through your head at the time?”
“Well later, I’d realize that Ralph was the best choice, I didn’t really know how to lead, saying that nor did Ralph. But Ralph could summon the attention of the boys and he knew what was really important, the fire. But I waited and waited, but despite what I thought at the time to be poor leadership qualities, no-one ever complained. That was it, that was the last straw for me, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I left the main group and founded a tribe of my own, a tribe of proud hunters.”
There seemed to be a glisten in his eye as he sat up straight. Almost like he was reliving the moment in his head. He was leader, he was in control and he loved it. “It was clear to me from the start that Ralph would be a bad leader, the only reason he lasted so long was because of that conch. That conch saved us, the boys respected whoever wielded it. Although, I do still think he abused it’s status as a power symbol, the other boys almost seemed to not just respect the wielder but also fear it. Pathetic, me and my hunters feared nothing, or at least we said we didn’t, man nor object. I know I for one was certainly afraid, the beast in all its unknown, I had nightmares for months afterwards, although I would never have let on. We did not suffer the same weaknesses as Ralph’s lot. But sadly we suffered from a different weakness, we suffered from arrogance, this was what my tribe was built on, and sadly that would be the downfall of the group.”
It was clear Jack felt strongly about this. He felt he had been wronged and I had no doubts that he was the kind of man not to take being wronged lightly. I had a slight suspicion that he would have been at least partially connected to the deaths of both Piggy and Simon. Ralph had left out any details of their deaths, just saying that they were tragic accidents.
“So what did you think of the other boys, Piggy did you call him?” I thought Jack might be able to shed some light on those tragic events, but when I mentioned the name Piggy, he seemed to anger, and refused to answer my questions, just stating that his death was a tragedy. I decided, in order not to get on his bad side, to retire to bed. My questions would have to wait until tomorrow.
I arose bright and early the next morning only to find Jack had left the house to attend business once again, but this time I was left alone. I waited and waited for Jack to return and it was just past 5 in the evening when he did so. I decided to wait until dinner before questioning him further. As I thought he would be more relaxed and perhaps even answer a couple of bigger questions.
When dinner was served, a selection of grilled meats, I sat down to question Jack once again. I was determined to get an answer about the deaths, so I had to build up the trust between us once again. “So how exactly did you hunt? And what happened afterwards? Ralph mentioned some sort of dance and a chant?”
He replied that he was the main pioneer of the hunt, he started it, he made the first kill. The hunt was his, everyone followed him, he was in control. “The dance afterwards,” He said. “Was just a way of winding down. For me at least. I can’t say how the others viewed it. I used it to remove the last bits of adrenaline energy from my body. We’d run, jump and dance around a fire, re-enacting the hunt. It was great fun for everyone, well… It was a good way to wear people out before sleeping as well. I used it at our fortress before sleeping as it would keep the majority of the boys quiet for the night.”
I wondered why he had hesitated. I noted it and decided to come back to it, he seemed quite nervous having mentioned it. “So apart from hunting what did you do for entertainment? And what did you do about food when there was no meat from a hunt? How did you know what was safe to eat?” I guessed they had figured what was safe through trial and error and Jack confirmed this. He said that there were plenty of fruits to chose from and plenty of fresh water near by. They could have stayed there for a very long time.
After dinner, Jack led me into a room with a fireplace and a couple of leather chairs. He poured us both a glass of brandy and we sat down in the warmth of the fire. I noticed a stick above the fireplace, much like you would mount a rifle on the wall, and catching my stare Jack answered my minds questions.
“I brought that back with me from my stay on the island. It’s the spear I used to hunt with. It’s there to remind me that things can always get better and not to let my arrogance cloud my judgment.”
We sat and reminisced of past times growing up, Jack talking more about his time before the island. I felt closer to Jack now than I ever had. He certainly didn’t seem as bad as Ralph had made out. I decided now was as good a chance as I would get to ask about the deaths on the island. “So what actually happened with Piggy, how did he die?”
He stared at me, he knew I wanted an answer and that I wasn’t going to settle without one. He waited a while, as if thinking of a reply then spoke. “Well, Ralph, Piggy and a few younger boys didn’t join my tribe. One day they decided to come and try to talk their way in. The passage to the entrance to our cliff fortress was very narrow. Piggy had lost his glasses previously and on the way across the narrow path he had slipped and fell to his death on the rocks below. It was shocking to see and sickening to hear. That was one of the most disturbing moments of my life.”
I don’t know what it was, I think it was the ease with which Jack had gave this account of events that made me not believe him, after this had been a taboo subject just yesterday. “You say he slipped and fell, but what happened to make him lose his footing?” He looked at me again, a sadness in his eyes. I could tell now that I had summoned a bad memory. Jack didn’t answer. “Did one of your tribe cause him to lose his balance? Or did one of them just simply push him?”
Jack spoke quietly, as if trying to hide his words from someone. “We’d set up defences, there were rocks, bits of drift wood. One of them knocked Piggy off the cliff.”
“Was he murdered by one of your tribe?”
“It was roger, at least, I think it was Roger. The rock came from up by him. And before Piggy could react, before anyone could even shout a word of warning, he was gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes gone.” Jack snapped. “Over the cliff. Dead.”
He looked angry, not sad. I knew now why no-one would speak on the subject. Piggy was murdered in cold blood. I decided to move onto Simon, it was now or never. After hearing Piggy was murdered I didn’t really know what to expect when I asked about Simon.
“Was Simon murdered as well?”
He didn’t answer at first. He just sat there staring at the fire. He remained still, his head resting on his hand as he stared at the floor. The silence seemed to linger for hours, but it was nothing more than minutes. After a few minutes he spoke, “It was an accident, he came out of the woods, not talking but grunting, groaning, like he’d lost the ability to communicate. He spooked some of the younger boys, along with some of the older ones, myself included. We thought he was the beast, we pictured him as the beast. He was surrounded. On the floor helpless. I can still hear his cries to this day. They wake me up at night. His screams. His screams of Pain. His unanswered, unheard cries for help. He was the beast to us, he was going to die, and we’d feel better for it. We would slay the beast.”
“You’d slay the beast? Was that just a way to make yourselves feel better? Did you not think about him?”
“It was dark, we couldn’t tell until it was too late. He was dead before I knew it was Simon. I thought about him afterwards. I tried not to think how he felt.”
“How did you feel, knowing that two people had been murdered partially because of or by you?”
“How do you think I felt? I hated myself, I hated that feeling. I felt so bad. I’d give anything to go back and stop that. First Simon had been massacred by a group of us, then Piggy had been killed. I’ve carried the weight of those two on my shoulders ever since. I can’t forget them. I owe at least that much to them.”
I could see tears rolling down his face. He excused himself from the table, stood up and walked off. That was the last I saw of him before returning home the next morning, not even a note to say where he’d gone. He’d just disappeared, but I felt a lot more informed than I had felt previously, I somewhat felt sorry for him, it wasn’t really his fault, and yet he’s portrayed as the bad guy in the story. But really, at the time it wasn’t just him, there was a group of them. Yet throughout his years since, although it was an accident, he has carried this burden of guilt and grief. I couldn’t help but admire him.