Mataika was away such a long time that his wife became very anxious, and feared that he was dead. Being unable to bear the suspense any longer, she spoke to Obra, the father of Kaige the policeman, and said, “Very good; you go to your zogo, and ask him where Mataika he stop. I think him dead.” He said, “All right; to-morrow small daylight I go.”
On consulting Tomog Zogo at daybreak next morning, Obra could not see anything happen in the clearing in the direction of Somerset. After some time two kead birds came out from the bush which lay in the direction of Erub and looked at Obra, and immediately they disappeared.
Obra came back and said to the anxious wife, “Mataika, he leave Somerset long time ago; he go to Erub; close up he come.” Next morning Obra went up the hill Gelam, and espied a canoe coming from Erub. He told Mataika’s wife that her husband was on board, and sure enough he was, with one other man and three boys.
On his arrival Mataika was informed what had been done, and he told the natives to burn and break up all their other zogos, charms, and images. “They all devil-devil; but good thing you keep Tomog Zogo; he speak true. Ah! he all right; all same dream.”
I never heard whether this oracle was ever consulted again; at all events, Tomog Zogo has shared the fate of all the other zogos, and it is now broken and partially destroyed.
When one remembers how many civilised nations have believed in and consulted oracles, one need not be surprised if these people were reluctant to give up their old sacred places. The wonder is that they have so readily embraced the new faith and the new ideas.
The Mamoose promised to give us a private rehearsal of Tomog Zogo the next morning at daybreak. I was up in time, but he did not come. I had a little talk with him later in the day, and the following morning he arrived, and one or two of us went just before sunrise in the “old-time fashion.” We told the Mamoose we were anxious for the speedy arrival of the Mission vessel, the Nieue, and wanted to know when she was coming. We heard some birds twittering in the bushes, which Mamoose gravely assured us meant a boat was approaching. After sitting a long time on dew-bespangled dead leaves, we retired. The chief point of interest to me was the fact that the steady-going old chief, who had long been a deacon of the church, was still a believer in this famous zogo to which he and his ancestors belonged, and whilst he was sitting motionless in the old spot and intently gazing at the zogo and listening for the message from the birds, the church bell was ringing summoning the people to the early morning prayer-meeting.
Later in the day George Rotumah’s lugger came in and brought us a mail, so the birds had not twittered in vain.
On the opposite side of Murray Island from the Mission Station is the village of Las, perhaps the largest and most important village in the island in former times. As it was the main centre of the ancient Malu ceremonies, I thought it would be well for me to stay there for a day or two. So in the afternoon of Wednesday, May 18th, Rivers and I walked over along the new road, made by prison labour, that skirts the greater part of the island. Rivers went with me, as he wanted to see if it would be practicable to take some psychological apparatus over there to test those people who would not, or could not, come across to us.
We had a pleasant walk. The faithful Pasi accompanied us, as did Gadodo, Pasi’s cousin and our host. We found Gadodo had a large grass house of the now usual South Sea type—that is, oblong, with one doorway and no other opening. In the interior, along the end walls, were bamboo stagings, about three to four feet from the ground, which served as beds. All the houses of the eastern tribe of Torres Straits (i.e. Uga, Erub, and the Murray Islands) were formerly circular and quite small. There is only one beehive house remaining in Murray Island. After we had dumped our swag, or, as some people would say, after we had deposited our luggage in the house, we had the usual drink of coconut water, and squatted on a mat by Mrs. Gadodo’s side to have a chat. Then we had a walk along the sand beach. Our dinner consisted of a plate of boiled sweet potatoes, bananas, and pumpkin, all mixed up together, with a coconut for drink.