A humming overhead had become a roar;and suddenly he was in shadow,there was something between the sun and him.He looked up,startled,from his digging,from his thoughts;looked up in a dazzled bewilderment,his mind still wandering in that other world of truer-than-truth,still focussed on the immensities of death and deity;looked up and saw,close above him,the swarm of hovering machines.Like locusts they came,hung poised,descended all around him on the heather.And from out of the bellies of these giant grass-hoppers stepped men in white viscose-flannels,women(for the weather was hot)in acetate-shantung pyjamas or velveteen shorts and sleeveless,half-unzippered singlets-one couple from each.In a few minutes there were dozens of them,standing in a wide circle round the lighthouse,staring,laughing,clicking their cameras,throwing(as to an ape)peanuts,packets of sex-hormone chewing-gum,pan-glandular petits beurres.And every moment-for across the Hog's Back the stream of traffic now flowed unceasingly-their numbers increased.As in a nightmare,the dozens became scores,the scores hundreds.
The Savage had retreated towards cover,and now,in the posture of an animal at bay,stood with his back to the wall of the lighthouse,staring from face to face in speechless horror,like a man out of his senses.
From this stupor he was aroused to a more immediate sense of reality by the impact on his cheek of a well-aimed packet of chewing-gum.A shock of startling pain-and he was broad awake,awake and fiercely angry.
"Go away!"he shouted.
The ape had spoken;there was a burst of laughter and hand-clapping."Good old Savage!Hurrah,hurrah!"And through the babel he heard cries of:"Whip,whip,the whip!"
Acting on the word's suggestion,he seized the bunch of knotted cords from its nail behind the door and shook it at his tormentors.
There was a yell of ironical applause.
Menacingly he advanced towards them.A woman cried out in fear.The line wavered at its most immediately threatened point,then stiffened again,stood firm.The consciousness of being in overwhelming force had given these sightseers a courage which the Savage had not expected of them.Taken aback,he halted and looked round.
"Why don't you leave me alone?"There was an almost plaintive note in his anger.
"Have a few magnesium-salted almonds!"said the man who,if the Savage were to advance,would be the first to be attacked.He held out a packet."They're really very good,you know,"he added,with a rather nervous smile of propitiation."And the magnesium salts will help to keep you young."
The Savage ignored his offer."What do you want with me?"he asked,turning from one grinning face to another."What do you want with me?"
"The whip,"answered a hundred voices confusedly."Do the whipping stunt.Let's see the whipping stunt."
Then,in unison and in a slow,heavy rhythm,"We-want-the whip,"shouted a group at the end of the line."We-want-the whip."
Others at once took up the cry,and the phrase was repeated,parrot-fashion,again and again,with an ever-growing volume of sound,until,by the seventh or eighth reiteration,no other word was being spoken."We-want-the whip."
