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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEnever rise, that he might be thwarted in everypossible way, since he had forced them to comeagainst their wills.All the way down to the beach they had laggedbehind together, though he bade them “Walk up,walk up", without speaking. Their heads werebent down, their heads were pressed down bysome remorseless gale. Speak to him they couldnot. They must come; they must follow. Theymust walk behind him carrying brown paperparcels. But they vowed, in silence, as theywalked, to stand by each other and carry out thegreat compact—to resist tyranny to the death.So there they would sit, one at one end of the boat,one at the other, in silence. They would saynothing, only look at him now and then where hesat with his legs twisted, frowning and fidgeting,and pishing and pshawing and muttering thingsto himself, and waiting impatiently for a breeze.And they hoped it would be calm. They hopedhe would be thwarted. They hoped the wholeexpedition would fail, and they would have to putback, with their parcels, to the beach.But now, when Macalister’s boy had rowed alittle way out, the sails slowly swung round, theboat quickened itself, flattened itself, and shot off.Instantly, as if some great strain had been relieved,Mr. Ramsay uncurled his legs, took out his252