Читать книгу Lolóma, or two years in cannibal-land. A story of old Fiji онлайн

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As the priest ended, it was clear that the populace sided with him. Had it not been so he would not have spoken so boldly. The chief wavered. He feared to arouse the ill-will of his conservative people, and at the same time he ardently desired the power which he believed the presence of white men could bring him.

After a brief address, in which he insinuated his own views without appearing to express them, he concluded, “The priest has spoken with words of earthly wisdom, but not with inspiration. Let the oracle be consulted, and I will abide the result.”

The priest anointed himself with scented cocoanut oil, and became absorbed in thought. The assemblage waited in breathless silence. We watched him with a fearful interest, for our fate hung upon the end of this strange scene.

In a few minutes a perceptible tremor agitated the old man’s frame. His limbs twitched, and faint, rapid distortions passed over his face, like shadows chasing each other on the water. These gradually increased till a violent muscular action set in; foam appeared upon his lips, and he gasped and sobbed in strong convulsions. He shouted, gnashed his teeth, clenched his hands, swayed himself backwards and forward. He shook from head to foot; his veins swelled till they seemed just about to burst, and his muscles tightened till they threatened to snap. He seemed to be lashed and torn by hurricanes of racking torture.