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

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“Now he is possessed by his god,” it was whispered round, and every ear was strained to catch the first words of the supernatural deliverance.

The excitement was intensified by the priest jerking forth at intervals sundry exclamations about his god, or himself, or both of them together, thus:—“I! I! I! It is I! The god! The god! It is we! We two!” Then, still writhing, trembling, groaning, looking like a mad paralytic kneeling on ground shaken by an earthquake, the people, unable to remain quiet any longer, shouted deliriously, “That is it! See! see! Wonderful! True! There they are! Both of them!”

The climax had now been reached. The priest, with rolling eyes and frenzied voice, screamed, “It is I! It is I! Listen to Dengeh! Trust not the white men. They grow slowly like the nut, and abide—the Fijians like the plantain, and wither in a few days. Hear not the words of the religion they bring. It is the lie of a far away path.”

The divination was clearly against us. We gathered from the satisfied grunts and expressive gestures of our neighbours that we should shortly be clubbed and consigned to the oven.