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

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On recovering myself I plunged into the leafy grove which clothed the mountain side. Being now increasingly fearful of being seen by the inhabitants of some inland town, I moved warily. Afflicted with a raging thirst, I climbed a high tree, on which I observed a parasitical plant, the leaves of which acting as a kind of rain-gauge, supplied me with cups of the most beautifully pure water, that sparkled like dew in these elegant green vessels. Never was mortal drought more gratefully slaked. A shaddock plucked from its nest of green completed a light and refreshing breakfast. Turning round to descend, I discovered on a level with myself, in the umbrageous shade of the tree-top, the entrance to a cave, which was not visible from the open. The locality was well guarded from view, for close by the grotto a venerable vutu rakaraka reared its stately form to a height of 60ft. The huge arch-like branches it threw out were clasped by the twining roots of epiphytical fig-trees, and a number of climbing plants, interlaced with wax flowers, formed a mass of diverse greenery, shaping a wild fantastic scene in which the light of day was only dimly perceptible. Entering the cavern, I found it of considerable dimensions. The water dripping through the limestone roof had formed, as I could see when my eyes became accustomed to the faint light, the most beautiful stalactites, which depended in elegant forms, fashioning crystal draperies worthy to form the hangings for a Temple of Nature.