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

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Meanwhile the priest was gradually recovering from his paroxysm. He looked round with a vacant stare, as though waking from a trance, and as the god uttered the words, “I depart,” violently flung himself down on the ground. He remained quivering for some time, but shortly sat up, took a draught of water, and was himself again.

The chief had been a deeply-interested spectator of the scene, but it seemed to us that he was more moved by the attitude of the people than by the vaticinations of the priest, in whose inspiration it is doubtful if he believed. After some minutes of reflection he remarked, “The god has spoken, but the fate of the white men is not decreed. The priest shall visit the cave of the great Dengeh and show us an omen before the club falls.”

That evening costly offerings of food, clubs, spears, native cloth, &c., were prepared and presented at the mouth of a cave in a neighbouring hill, the road to which was known only to the priest. These valuable articles were afterwards appropriated by the servant of Dengeh. Before the offerings could be presented and the ear of the oracle gained, the priests on these occasions must draw slowly near the holy places in a manner that is most painfully reverential. This they do kneeling, not crawling on all fours, as serfs do when approaching their chiefs—in this country, a process far too easy and pleasant—but “walking” on their knees only, without letting their hands share the burden, and without steadying help from the toes, which dare not touch the ground, however gently, at the peril of their owner. If, unhappily, they flagged in this weary and painful progression, and but once allowed their feet to touch the sacred soil, the god would turn those feet white; while if they ventured to rest or move forward at a quicker pace, by putting their hands on the ground, the incensed Dengeh would cause the land to be stricken with famine.