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

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But now an altogether unexpected source of anxiety beset me. I found that I was fairly entrapped in this dense patch of vethos. The reeds reached such a height that they shut out all surrounding objects. In their gloomy shade I could distinguish nothing clearly. As I passed through these prison bars they closed upon me from behind with a snap like so many spring doors, preventing the air from circulating and making the atmosphere close and sultry beyond expression; while the sickly graveyard smell emitted by the fermenting vegetable matter was almost overpowering. After some 20 minutes of plunging about over a flooring honeycombed with pitfalls concealed by undergrowths—frequently sprawling full length over thong-like creepers and tendrils which it was impossible to break—I reached a nerveless state of exhaustion, in which I saw that I put forth my arm without making the smallest impression upon the stubborn wires of my thickset cage. On the one hand I feared that I should never find my way out of this maze, and on the other that if my strength returned I should as likely as not work down to the coast and the dangerous locality I had fled from, while the noise of every breaking twig caused me to look round for my pursuer. Were he to come upon me now I should be helpless. I already pictured myself prostrate with the glowering eyes of the horrid savage upon me.