Meanwhile, all over the isle, to and fro went heralds, dismally arrayed, beating shark-skin drums; and, at intervals, crying—“A man is dead; let no fires be kindled; have mercy, oh Oro!—Let no canoes put to sea till the burial. This night, oh Oro!—Let no food be cooked.”
And ever and anon, passed and repassed these, others in brave attire; with castanets of pearl shells, making gay music; and these sang—
Be merry, oh men of Mondoldo,
A maiden this night is to wed:
Be merry, oh damsels of Mardi,—
Flowers, flowers for the bridal bed.
Informed that the preliminary rites were about being rendered, we repaired to the arbor, whither the body had been removed.
Arrayed in white, it was laid out on a mat; its arms mutely crossed, between its lips an asphodel; at the feet, a withered hawthorn bough.
The relatives were wailing, and cutting themselves with shells, so that blood flowed, and spotted their vesture.
Upon remonstrating with the most abandoned of these mourners, the wife of the diver, she exclaimed, “Yes; great is the pain, but greater my affliction.”
Another, the deaf sire of the dead, went staggering about, and groping; saying, that he was now quite blind; for some months previous he had lost one eye in the death of his eldest son and now the other was gone.
“I am childless,” he cried; “henceforth call me Roi Mori,” that is, Twice-Blind.
While the relatives were thus violently lamenting, the rest of the company occasionally scratched themselves with their shells; but very slightly, and mostly on the soles of their feet; from long exposure, quite callous. This was interrupted, however, when the real mourners averted their eyes; though at no time was there any deviation in the length of their faces.