Lord of the Flies, Alternate ending

Chapter 9 (A view to a death)

“I got a pain in my head. I wish the air was cooler. I wish the rain would come.”
“I wish we could go home.”

Piggy lay back against the sloping sand side of the pool. His stomach protruded and the water dried on it.

“Where’s everybody?”

Piggy sat up.
Piggy pointed beyond the platform.

“That’s where they’ve gone. Jack’s party.”

“Let them go,” said Ralph, uneasily, “I don’t care.”

“Just for some meat—”

“And for hunting,” said Ralph, wisely,

“and for pretending to be a tribe, and putting on war-paint.”

Piggy stirred the sand under water and did not look at Ralph.

“P’raps we ought to go too.”

Ralph looked at him quickly and Piggy blushed.

“I mean—to make sure nothing happens.”

Long before Ralph and Piggy came up with Jack’s lot, they could hear the party. A fire burned on the rock and fat dripped from the roasting pig meat. All the boys of the island, except Piggy, Ralph, Simon, and the two tending the pig, were grouped on the turf. They were laughing, singing, lying, or standing on the grass, holding food in their hands. But to judge by the greasy faces, the meat eating was almost done; and some held coconut shells in their hands and were drinking from them.
Before the party had started a great log had been dragged into the center of the lawn and Jack, painted and garlanded, sat there like an idol. There were piles of meat on green leaves near him, and fruit, and coconut shells full of drink.
Piggy and Ralph came to the edge of the grassy platform; and the boys, as they noticed them, fell silent one by one till only the boy next to Jack was talking. Jack turned where he sat. For a time he looked at them. Ralph looked away; and Sam, thinking that Ralph had turned to him accusingly, put down his gnawed bone. Ralph whispered something inaudible to Piggy; and they both giggled like Sam. Lifting his feet high out of the sand, Ralph started to stroll past. Piggy tried to whistle.
At this moment the boys who were cooking at the fire suddenly hauled off a great chunk of meat and ran with it toward the grass. They bumped Piggy, who was burnt, and yelled and danced. Immediately, Ralph and the crowd of boys were united and relieved by a storm of laughter. Piggy once more was the center of social derision so that everyone felt cheerful and normal.
Jack stood up and waved his spear.

“Take them some meat.”

The boys with the spit gave Ralph and Piggy each a succulent chunk.
They took the gift, dribbling. So they stood and ate beneath a sky of thunderous brass that rang with the storm-coming. Jack waved his spear again.

“Has everybody eaten as much as they want?”

There was still food left, sizzling on the wooden spits, heaped on the green platters. Betrayed by his stomach, Piggy threw a picked bone down on the beach and stooped for more.
Jack spoke again, impatiently.“Has everybody eaten as much as they want?”
His tone conveyed a warning, given out of the pride of ownership, and the boys ate faster while there was still time. Seeing there was no immediate likelihood of a pause, Jack rose from the log that was his throne. He looked down from behind his paint at Ralph and Piggy. They moved a little farther off over the sand and Ralph watched the fire as he ate. Evening was come, not with calm beauty but with the threat of violence.
Jack spoke.