The chain was at length reduced to very narrow dimensions. It consisted of only 30 men, and Hot-Water was less easy in his mind than he had been, for there was another mile of swimming to be done before that blood-red circle could tinge the waters which rippled on the shores of Ramáka.
Assuming an upright position in the water, the King took off his turban. The long thin folds of fine white tapa were floated by the wind in the direction of the island. The waving cloth was seen, and at the same time the heads of the men in the water were discerned. A small canoe was speedily manned, and the 30 shipwrecked mariners with their chief and myself were taken on board and landed in safety.
The custom of the loloku was duly observed to propitiate the manes of the departed sailors. That night was one of wailing in Ramáka, for the households already desolated had each to give up a life in honour of the dead.
Had I been among the drowned, Lolóma would have been strangled in order that her spirit might accompany mine in the next world, where, according to the Fijian belief, it would have a variety of experiences in the various “circles” of Hades.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE TEMPLE IS SET IN ORDER.
In the course of a few months, the interval having been employed in the valley of Tivóli in making preparations for war, ambassadors were received from King Big-Wind, at the instigation of Bent-Axe, demanding the restoration of Lolóma and myself. The reply was an emphatic refusal, Hot-Water being desirous of keeping all the white men who came within his influence about him; and it was understood on both sides that war was inevitable.
The time was now one of stirring interest to all the tribes under the dominion of Hot-Water. Every village and hamlet was on the move. The great chieftains and their warriors of all ranks, with blackened faces and ornamented clubs and spears, were in readiness to march for the enemy’s land. Their last offerings to the gods must, however, be first presented, and words of encouragement and blessing be received in return from the soothsaying and shaking priests.
The old temple of Ramáka was rebuilt to propitiate the deities. The frames of this spirit-house were composed of rough hardwood posts, chopped from the vesi, one of the most sacred trees in cannibal mythology. The rafters were made of lighter wood or bamboos, and the walls were reed-work. The roof was thatched with long grass; the interior was lined with a beautiful net of sinnet-work.
There were some singular ceremonies in connection with the erection of the temple, which only occupied a few days. When everything was ready for planting the first post, or, as we should say, “laying the foundation stone,” the priest took a bunch of cocoanuts, and shook them lustily over each hole that had been dug for the principal posts or pillars of the building. This shaking loosened some of the riper nuts from the stalk. The first hole into which a nut dropped was chosen for the first, or foundation post, which was thenceforward called the “god-pillar,” and the part of the temple where it stood was “holy ground”—a charmed spot, where the oracle delighted to dwell, and the priest to sleep and dream. It was in truth his sanctum sanctorum. There was a tradition in the tribe that on the erection of the first temple in Ramáka, living human bodies were put into the holes with the posts, and buried with them. It was a common practice to kill men for the occasion, and place them standing on their feet in the holes with the temple pillars.
When the edifice was ready for “opening,” or “consecration,” a fast of four days was proclaimed and strictly observed. While it lasted, work of every description, and conversation, as well as eating and drinking, were tabooed, and the large town remained as still and silent as death. At the end of the fourth day the silence was broken by the blast of trumpets and the roll of drums; the people burst forth from their houses as from so many graves, and gave themselves up to the wildest revelry. The night was kept awake with noise. The disturbed parrots in the trees hard by, joined in the chaos of sounds, which lasted till dawn, when, suddenly, the scene changed to one of hearty industry in preparing puddings, killing pigs, and making and heating ovens for a great feast. Four days of fasting had whetted the people’s appetites; their feelings may, therefore, be imagined, when they sat down to a dinner consisting of 200 pigs, and untold quantities of yams, taro, vegetable puddings, bananas, cocoanuts, &c.