Title: The Fugitives - The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar
Author: Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894
Language: English
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The Fugitives, by R.M. Ballantyne.

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A group of people from a British ship have gone ashore to stretch their
legs, when enemies approach, the ship's boat retreats to the ship and
they are left stranded ashore.  The book deals with their efforts to
find what they hope will be civilisation in the capital of the Island of
Madagascar, which is something like the size of France.  Unfortunately
the reigning Queen has a hatred of Christianity which had been brought
to the Island by missionaries some forty years before. Our heroes find
themselves assisted by a Christian net-work, but when they get to the
capital they are appalled by the carnage and torture they find when the
Queen has one of her rages against Christianity.

Based on fact, the story told here of the repression of Christianity in
an emerging nation was all too true.  The Queen died in 1867, and was
succeeded by her son, an altogether different person, at which point our
heroes take ship for England, and the story ends.

The story is full of action, the only quibble being the long and rather
similar names the Malagasy people who appear in the story have.  This
makes it sometimes rather hard to make out what is happening.

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THE FUGITIVES, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.



PREFACE.

It is almost allowable, I think, to say that this is a true story, for
fiction has only been introduced for the purpose of piecing together and
making a symmetrical whole of a number of most interesting facts in
regard to Madagascar and the terrible persecutions that took place there
in the early part and middle of the present century.

I have ventured to modify time and place somewhat, as well as to mix my
characters and their deeds a little, in order to suit the conditions of
my tale; but in doing so I have striven to avoid exaggeration and to
produce a true picture of the state of affairs, at the period treated
of, in what may be styled one of the most interesting and progressive
islands of the world.

I take this opportunity of thanking the Rev  George Cousins, of the
London Missionary Society, and formerly of Madagascar, for kindly
supplying me with much valuable information, and of acknowledging myself
indebted, among others, to the works of Messrs. Sibree, Ellis, and Shaw.

R M Ballantyne.

Harrow-on-the-Hill, 1887.



CHAPTER ONE.

INTRODUCES THE CHIEF ACTORS AND A FEW MYSTERIES.

Intense action is at all times an interesting object of contemplation to
mankind.  We therefore make no apology to the reader for dragging him
unceremoniously into the middle of a grand primeval forest, and
presenting to his view the curious and stirring spectacle of two white
men and a negro running at their utmost possible speed, with flashing
eyes and labouring chests--evidently running for their lives.

Though very different in aspect and condition, those men were pretty
equally matched as runners, for there was no apparent difference in the
vigour with which they maintained the pace.

The track or footpath along which they ran was so narrow as to compel
them to advance in single file.  He who led was a tall agile youth of
nineteen or thereabouts, in knickerbocker shooting-garb, with short
curly black hair, pleasantly expressive features, and sinewy frame.  The
second was obviously a true-blue tar--a regular sea-dog--about thirty
years of age, of Samsonian mould, and, albeit running for very life,
with grand indignation gleaming in his eyes.  He wore a blue shirt on
his broad back, white ducks on his active legs, and a straw hat on his
head, besides a mass of shaggy hair, which, apparently, not finding
enough of room on his cranium, overflowed in two brown cataracts down
his cheeks, and terminated in a voluminous beard.

The third fugitive was also a young man, and a negro, short, thickset,
square, tough as india-rubber, and black as the Emperor of Zahara.
Good-humour wrinkled the corners of his eyes, the milk of human kindness
played on his thick lips and rippled his sable brow, and intense
sincerity, like a sunbeam, suffused his entire visage.

James Ginger--for that was his name, though his friends preferred to
call him Ebony--scorned a hat of any kind; his simple costume consisting
merely of two garments--canvas trousers and a guernsey shirt.

The sailor wore a cutlass in his belt.  Ebony was unarmed.  The youthful
leader carried a short fowling-piece.

A yell in the far distance, as if from a hundred fiends, told that the
pursuers had discovered the trail of the fugitives, and were gaining on
them.

"We'll have to fight for it, doctor," growled the sailor in a savage
tone, "better stop while we've got some wind left."

"The wood seems more open ahead," replied the youth, "let's push on a
bit further."

"Hi!" exclaimed the negro in surprise, not unmingled with alarm, as they
suddenly emerged on an open space and found themselves on the edge of a
stupendous precipice.

The formation of the region was curious.  There was a drop in the land,
as it were, to a lower level.  From their elevated position the three
men could see a turbulent river rushing far below, at the base of the
cliffs on the edge of which they stood.  Beyond lay a magnificent and
varied stretch of forest scenery, extending away to the horizon, where
the prospect terminated in a blue range of hills.  No path was at first
visible by which the fugitives could reach the plain below.  The
precipice was almost perpendicular.  They were about to leap recklessly
over, and trust to descending by means of an occasional bush or shrub
which grew on the rocky face, when the negro uttered one of his falsetto
exclamations.

"Hi! here am a track."

He dashed aside the branches of an overhanging bush, and ran along a
narrow path, or ledge, which sloped gently downwards.  It was a
fearfully giddy position, but this in the circumstances, and to men
accustomed to mast-heads and yard-arms, was of small moment.  On they
ran, at a more cautious pace indeed, but still with anxious haste, until
about a quarter of the distance down the face of the precipice, when, to
their horror, they came to a turn in the path where it suddenly ended.
A mass of rock, apparently detached from the cliff by recent rains, had
fallen from above, and in its thundering descent had carried away fully
ten yards of the path into the stream below, where they could see its
shattered fragments in the rushing river.  The gap in front of them was
absolutely impassable.  On the right, the cliff rose sheer upwards.  On
the left, it went sheer down.

A sort of groan escaped from the doctor.

"What's to be done now, Hockins?" he asked sharply, turning to the
sailor.

"Die!" replied Hockins, in a tone of savage bitterness.

"Stuff an' nonsense! we no' die yit," said the negro, pointing to the
snake-like branches of a climbing plant which, spreading over the naked
face of the cliff, turned into a crevice and disappeared round a jutting
point.

"Will it bear our weight, lad?" asked the sailor doubtfully.

"It leads to nothing that I can see," said the young doctor, "and would
only ensure our being dashed to pieces instead of speared."

"Nebber fear, massa Breezy.  Dis not de fus' time I's hoed troo de
forests.  If you stop here you die.  James Gingah he go on an' lib."

"Go on then, Ebony; we will follow," returned Breezy, slinging his gun
on his shoulder so as to leave his hands free.

A yell of disappointment on the cliffs above accelerated their
movements.  It was evident that the pursuers had come out on the open
plateau, but had not observed the path by which they descended.  As it
was certain, however, that they would find it in a few minutes, Ebony
sprang upon the creeping plant and clambered along its tortuous limbs
like a monkey.  Young Breezy followed, and Hockins came last.

The plant was tough.  It stood the strain well.  If it had given way,
death on the jagged rocks below would have been the result.  But death
by savage spears was behind them, so they did not hesitate.  A few
seconds and all three had passed round the jutting rock and into the
crevice, where they were completely hidden from the view of any one
standing on the path they had just left.

In the crevice they found a ledge or platform sufficiently large to
admit of their standing together.  They had scarcely obtained a footing
on it when another shout announced that the pursuer had traced their
trail to the head of the track.

We know not, reader, whether you have ever experienced that
heart-melting qualm which comes over one at the sudden and unexpected
approach of what, at least, appears to be death.  If you have, you will
be able to understand the intense relief and thankfulness felt by the
fugitives when, safe from immediate danger, they listened to their
pursuers as they held excited conversation at the end of the broken
track.  Not knowing the language they could not, of course, understand
what was said, and being just beyond the range of vision--owing to the
jutting cliff that concealed them--they could not see what their
pursuers were doing, but they heard a suggestive crash and a sharp
exclamation.

Had they been able to see, they would have understood the situation well
enough without the aid of language.

Two of the natives, who were dark-skinned and almost naked savages, had
come to the place where the track had been broken away.  They gazed at
the profound depths on the left and the inaccessible cliffs on the
right, and then glanced at each other in solemn surprise.

No doubt the creeping plant would in a few seconds have attracted
special attention, had not an incident turned their minds in another
direction.  While the foremost savage was craning his neck so as to see
as far round the projecting cliff as possible, the piece of rock on
which his advanced foot was dislodged, and he had the narrowest possible
escape from plunging headlong after the rock, which went bounding and
crashing into the gulf below.

Instantly the faces of the two men gleamed with intelligence; they
nodded with energy, grinned with satisfaction, and pointed to the abyss
in front of them with the air of men who had no doubt that their enemies
were lying down there in quivering fragments.

Something of this James Ginger did indeed manage to see.  Curiosity was
so powerfully developed in that sable spirit, that, at the imminent risk
of his life, he reached out by means of a branch, and so elongated his
black neck that he got one of his brilliant eyes to bear for a moment
upon his foes.  He appreciated the situation instantly, and drew back to
indulge in a smothered laugh which shut up both his eyes and appeared to
gash his face from ear to ear.

"What's wrong with you, Ebony?" whispered Mark Breezy, who was in
anything but a laughing mood just then.

"Oh! nuffin', nuffin', massa; only dem brown niggers are sitch asses dat
dey b'lieve a'most anyting.  Black niggers ain't so easy putt off de
scent.  Dey tinks we's tumble ober de precipis an' busted ourselbes."

"Lucky for us that they think so," said Hockins, in a soft tone of
satisfaction.  "But now, what are we to do?  It was bad enough
clamberin' up here in blazin' excitement to save our lives, but it will
be ten times worse gettin' down again in cold blood when they're gone."

"Time enough to consider that when they _are_ gone," muttered Breezy.
"Hush!  Listen!"

The sounds that reached their place of concealment told clearly enough
that a number of the savages had descended the cliffs, presumably to
look at the place over which the white men had fallen.  Then there was
much eager conversation in an unknown tongue, mingled with occasional
bursts of laughter--on hearing which latter the huge mouth of our negro
enlarged in silent sympathy.  After a while the voices were heard to
retire up the narrow track and become fainter until they died away
altogether, leaving no sound save the murmur of the rushing river to
fill the ears of the anxious listeners who stood like three statues in a
niche on the face of that mighty precipice.

"Now, you know," said Breezy, with a sigh of relief, "this is very
satisfactory as far as it goes, and we have reason to be thankful that
we are neither speared nor dashed to pieces; nevertheless, we are in an
uncomfortable fix here, for night is approaching, and we must retrace
our steps somehow or other, unless we make up our minds to sleep
standing."

"That's so, doctor.  There's not room to lie down here," assented the
sailor, glancing slowly round; "an', to tell 'ee the plain truth, I feel
as funky about trustin' myself again to that serpent-like creeper as I
felt the first time I went up through the lubber-hole the year I went to
sea."

"What you's 'fraid ob, Mr 'Ockins?" asked Ebony.

"Afraid o' the nasty thing givin' way under my weight.  If it was a good
stout rope, now, I wouldn't mind, but every crack it gave when I was
comin' aloft made my heart jump a'most out o' my mouth."

"What have 'ee found there, doctor?" asked the seaman, on observing that
his companion was groping behind a mass of herbage at the back part of
the niche in which they stood.

"There's a big hole here, Hockins.  Perhaps we may find room to stay
where we are, after all, till morning.  Come here, Ebony, you've got
something of the eel about you.  Try if you can wriggle in."

The negro at once thrust his head and shoulders into the hole, but could
not advance.

"Bery strange!" he said, drawing out his head, and snorting once or
twice like a dog that has half-choked himself in a rabbit-hole.  "Seems
to me dere's a big block o' wood dere stoppin' de way."

"Strange indeed, Ebony.  A block of wood could not have grown there.
Are you sure it is not a big root?"

"Sartin' sure, massa.  I hab studied roots since I was a babby.  Hold
on, I try again."

The negro tried again, and with such vigour that he not only displaced
the block of wood, but burst in several planks which concealed the
entrance to a cavern.  They fell on the stone floor with a crash that
aroused a multitude of echoes in the dark interior.  At the same moment
something like a faint shriek or wail was heard within, causing the
hearts of the three listeners to beat faster.

"Did you hear that, Hockins?"

"Ay, I heard it sure enough.  What is it, think 'ee, lad!" said the
seaman to the negro.

Ebony, who was gazing into the dark cavern with glaring eyeballs and
distended nostrils, replied--

"My advice to you is, let's go back de way we come.  Dis no place for
'spectable Christians."

"Do you fear ghosts?" asked Mark, smiling, yet at the same time bringing
his gun into a convenient position, with his finger ready on the
trigger.

"I fears nuffin," returned the negro with a proud look, while beads of
perspiration stood on his brow.

"Then ye're a braver man than I am, Ebony, for I fear that climbin'
plant worse than a ghost; so here goes to find out what it is."

Although the sailor spoke thus boldly, and tried to look cool, it is
certain that he also was afflicted with sensations of an unusual
description, which, of course, he would have scorned to admit were the
result of fear!  His power of will, however, was stronger than his
fears.  Drawing his cutlass, he was about to enter the cavern, when Mark
laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Hockins, you have accepted my lead hitherto.  It is not fair to
take it out of my hands at this critical point."

So saying he glided past his comrade, and was almost lost to sight
immediately in the deep gloom.

"Softly, softly, doctor," whispered the seaman, as he followed, "there
may be holes or pits within--"

"All right; I'm feeling my way carefully.  Keep close."

As he spoke a slight, indescribable sound was heard--almost like a sigh.

"Hist!  Did 'ee hear that?" said Hockins in the lowest possible whisper.

"Oh! massa, let's go back de way we come," urged Ebony, in the same low
but earnest tone.

Mark Breezy did not reply, but the click of his gun as he cocked it
showed that he was on the alert.

For nearly a minute the three men stood in absolute silence, listening
for a repetition of the mysterious sound, and, though it did not recur,
there was an indescribable feeling in the heart of each that they were
not alone in that cavern.

"Have you not flint and steel?" asked Mark.

"Yes; but to strike a light would only show our whereabouts if there
_is_ any one here."

The seaman accidentally touched Ebony on the elbow as he spoke, and sent
that worthy's heart, or something like it, into his throat with such
violence as nearly to choke him.

"Git along, massa," he said in a gaspy whisper, when able to articulate,
"we's got to go troo wid it _now_."

Acting on this advice the young man continued to advance cautiously,
feeling his way step by step and fully expecting every moment to reach
the inner wall of the cavern.

Presently the explorers were again brought to a stand by the sudden
appearance of a light in the far distance.  As, however, it did not
move, they continued to advance, and soon were convinced that it was
daylight shining through an opening in that direction.  Every step
convinced them more and more that they were right, and their spirits
rose with the hope of escaping, though the light made no appreciable
difference as yet in the darkness that surrounded them.

Suddenly a sharp, loud, short cry filled the cavern for an instant, and
almost froze their blood!  The loudness and abrupt stoppage of the cry
left the impression that the creature which uttered it had been suddenly
and effectively killed, for it ended in a sharp gasp or gurgle, and then
all was still,--but only for a moment, for the shock to Mark's nerves
was such that his finger inadvertently pressed the trigger of his gun,
which exploded with a deafening crash, and awoke shrieks and cries that
were not to be accounted for by mere echoes.

This was too much for ordinary human beings.  Fabled knights of old in
armour of proof might have stood it, but the two white men and the
black, being ordinary heroes, regardless of pride and honour, went in
for a regular stampede, and it is but simple justice to say that Ebony
won, for he reached the outlet of the cavern first, and sprang through
it into daylight like a black thunderbolt.  It is also due to his
comrades to add that they were not far behind him.

Their courage, however, was soon restored.  Daylight has a celebrated
power of restoring courage.  On clearing the bushes which concealed the
entrance to the cave they simultaneously stopped, turned round, and
resolutely faced their foe!

But no foe was to be seen!  Once again all was still as death.  After
glaring for a few seconds at the spot whence the expected enemy should
have issued, the three fugitives relaxed their frowning brows and turned
inquiring eyes on each other.

"Dis beats cockfightin' a'most," said Ebony, with a sigh of intense
relief.

"Ay, an' every other sort o' fightin' as I ever heard on," responded
Hockins.

"Come, friends," said their young leader, "whatever it may have been, it
behoves us to get as far away from this spot as possible, and that as
fast as we can."



CHAPTER TWO.

HARKS BACK A LITTLE.

The spot where our adventurers found themselves on issuing from the
mysterious cave was a peculiarly rugged one.  It formed a sort of hollow
or depression in the forest-land, in which we introduced the three men
as fugitives.  From this hollow there descended a narrow track or
pathway to the extensive valley which had been seen from the summit of
the precipice that barred their flight, and had so nearly proved fatal.

So confused was the nature of the ground here, and so intricate were the
tracks--originally formed no doubt by wild animals, though made use of
by wandering men--that it became impossible for Mark Breezy to know in
what direction he was leading his comrades as he wound in and out among
large rocks and fallen trees.  In fact it was more by chance than
guidance that they ultimately hit upon the path which finally led them
to the lower region or plateau of forest-land; and it is certain that
they would have found it impossible to find their way back to the cave,
even had they desired to do so.

Their chief object, however, was to put as much space as possible
between themselves and their late pursuers, and to this end they pushed
forward at their best speed, until they reached a small river which
appeared to be a tributary to, or a branch of, that which they had seen
from the heights earlier in the day.

  "`Come to a ribber--couldn't git across,
  Gib a couple o' dollars for an' old blind hoss,'"

murmured Ebony, quoting an ancient ditty.

"We shall have to swim it, I fear," remarked Breezy, "for there is no
horse here, blind or otherwise.  Perhaps that fallen tree may prove
strong enough to serve as a bridge."

He pointed to a slender tree which had evidently been placed there, with
several others, for the purpose of forming a rough and ready bridge; but
its companions had been removed by floods, for they lay tossed on the
bank further down among other wreckage.

"It'll be somethin' like tight-rope dancin'," said the sailor.  "We'll
have to repair the bridge."

"Nuffin' ob de sort!  Look here."

Ebony ran to the tree referred to, and skipped over with admirable
agility, though it bent under him not unlike a tight-rope.

"But _I_ can't do that," said Hockins, "not bein' a black monkey, d'ee
see?"

With a sudden expression of intense pity the negro exclaimed--

"Oh!  I beg pardin'.  Didn't I forgot; you's on'y a white man.  But
stop; I come ober agin an' took you on my back."

He pretended to be on the point of recrossing, but the sailor had
already got upon the bridge, and, with much balancing and waving of his
long arms, passed over in safety.  Mark was about to follow, when
Hockins called out, "Better pitch over the powder-flask in case you fall
in."

"That's true, for I mayn't be as good as you or Ebony on the tight-rope.
Look out!"

He pulled the powder-flask out of his pocket and threw it towards his
comrades.  Unfortunately the branch of an overhanging bush had touched
his hand.  The touch was slight, but it sufficed to divert the flask
from its proper course, and sent it into the middle of the stream.

Ebony followed it head first like an otter, but soon reappeared, gasping
and unsuccessful.  Again and again he dived, but failed to find the
flask, without which, of course, their gun was useless, and at last they
were obliged to continue their flight without it.

This was a very serious loss, for they had not an ounce of provisions
with them, and were in a land the character and resources of which were
utterly unknown at least to two of them, while the youth who had become
their leader knew very little more than the fact that it was the island
of Madagascar, that it lay about 300 miles off the eastern shores of
Africa, and that the tribes by whom they were surrounded were little if
at all better than savages.

That day they wandered far into the depths of a dark and tangled forest,
intentionally seeking its gloomiest recesses in order to avoid the
natives, and at night went supperless to rest among the branches of an
umbrageous tree, not knowing what danger from man or beast might assail
them if they should venture to sleep on the ground.

Although possessed of flint and steel, as well as tinder, they did not
use them for fear of attracting attention.  As they had nothing to cook,
the deprivation was not great.  Fortunately the weather at the time was
pleasantly warm, so that beyond the discomfort of not being able to
stretch out at full length, the occasional poking of awkward knots and
branches into their ribs, and the constant necessity of holding on lest
they should fall off, their circumstances were not insufferable, and
might have been worse.

While they are enjoying their repose, we will tell in a few sentences
who they were and how they got there.

When Mark Breezy, in the closing years of his medical-student career,
got leave to go on a voyage to China in one of his father's ships, the
_Eastern Star_, for the benefit of his health and the enlargement of his
understanding, he had no more idea that that voyage would culminate in a
bed up a tree in the forests of Madagascar than you, reader, have that
you will ultimately become an inhabitant of the moon!  The same remark
may with equal truth be made of John Hockins when he joined the _Eastern
Star_ as an able seaman, and of James Ginger--alias Ebony--when he
shipped as cook.  If the captain of the _Eastern Star_ had introduced
those three,--who had never seen each other before--and told them that
they would spend many months together among savages in the midst of
terrestrial beauty, surrounded by mingled human depravity and goodness,
self-denial and cruelty, fun and tragedy such as few men are fated to
experience, they would have smiled at each other with good-natured
scepticism and regarded their captain as a facetious lunatic.

Yet so it turned out, though the captain prophesied it not--and this was
the way of it.

Becalmed off the coast of Madagascar, and having, through leakage in one
of the tanks, run short of water, the captain ordered a boat with casks
to be got ready to go ashore for water.  The young doctor got leave to
land and take his gun for the purpose of procuring specimens--for he was
something of a naturalist--and having a ramble.

"Don't get out of hail, Doctor," said the captain, as the boat shoved
off.

"All right, sir, I won't."

"An' take a couple o' the men into the bush with you in case of
accidents."

"Ay ay, sir," responded Mark, waving his hand in acknowledgment.

And that was the last that Mark Breezy and the captain of the _Eastern
Star_ saw of each other for many a day.

"Who will go with me?" asked Mark, when the boat touched the shore.

"Me, massa," eagerly answered the negro cook, who had gone ashore in the
hope of being able to get some fresh vegetables from the natives if any
were to be found living there.  "Seems to me dere's no black mans here,
so may's well try de woods for wild wegibles."

"No no, Ebony," said the first mate, who had charge of the boat, "you'll
be sure to desert if we let you go--unless we send Hockins to look after
you.  He's the only man that can keep you in order."

"Well, I'll take Hockins also," said Mark, "you heard the captain say I
was to have two men.  Will you go, Hockins?"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the seaman, sedately, but with a wrinkle or two
on his visage which proved that the proposal was quite to his taste.

All the men of the boat's crew were armed either with cutlass or
carbine--in some cases with both; for although the natives were
understood to be friendly at that part of the coast it was deemed
prudent to be prepared for the reverse.  Thus John Hockins carried a
cutlass in his belt, but no fire-arm, and the young doctor had his
double-barrelled gun, with powder-flask and shot-belt, but Ebony--being
a free-and-easy, jovial sort of nigger--went unarmed, saying he "didn't
want to carry no harms, seein' he would need all harms he had to carry
back de fresh wegibles wid."

Thus those three went into the bush, promising to keep well within
ear-shot, and to return instantly at the first summons.

That summons came--not as a shout, as had been expected, but as a shot--
about an hour after the landing.  Our explorers ran to the top of a
neighbouring mound in some surprise, not unmixed with anxiety.  Before
they reached the summit a volley from the direction of the sea, followed
by fierce yells, told that some sort of evil was going on.  Another
moment, and they reached the eminence just in time to behold their
boat's crew pulling off shore while a band of at least a hundred savages
attacked them--some rushing into the water chest-deep in order to seize
the boat.  Cutlass and carbine, however, proved more than a match for
stone and spear.

The fight had scarce lasted a minute, and our trio were on the point of
rushing down to the rescue, when a white cloud burst from the side of
the _Eastern Star_, the woods and cliffs echoed with the roar of a big
gun, and a shot, plunging into the crowd of natives, cut down many of
them and went crashing into the bushes.

It was enough.  The natives turned and fled while the boat pulled to the
ship.

Uncertainty as to what should be done kept Mark Breezy and his
companions rooted for a few seconds to the spot.  Indecision was
banished, however, when they suddenly perceived a band of thirty or
forty natives moving stealthily towards them by a circuitous route,
evidently with the intention of taking them in rear and preventing them
from finding shelter in the woods.

It was the first time that the young student's manhood had been put
severely to the test.  There was a rush of hot blood to his forehead,
and his heart beat powerfully as he saw and realised the hopelessness of
their case with such tremendous odds against them.

"We can die but once," he said with forced calmness, as he cocked his
gun and prepared to defend himself.

"I's not a-goin' to die at all," said the negro, hastily tightening his
belt, "I's a-goin' to squatilate."

"And you?" said Mark, turning to the seaman.

"Run, says I, of coorse," replied Hockins, with something between a grin
and a scowl; "ye know the old song--him wot fights an' runs away, may
live to fight another day!"

"Come along, then!" cried Mark, who felt that whether they fought or ran
he was bound to retain the leadership of his little party.

As we have seen, they ran to some purpose.  No doubt if they had started
on equal terms, the lithe, hardy, and almost naked savages would have
soon overtaken them, but fortunately a deep gully lay between them and
the party of natives who had first observed them.  Before this was
crossed the fugitives were over the second ridge of rolling land that
lay between the thick woods and the sea, and when the savages at last
got upon their track and began steadily to overhaul them, the white men
had got fairly into the forest.

Still there would have been no chance of ultimate escape if they had not
come upon the footpath down the precipice which we have described as
having been partly carried away by falling rocks, thus enabling Hockins
and his companions to make a scramble for life which no one but a
sailor, a monkey, or a hero, would have dared, and the impossibility of
even attempting which never occurred to the pursuers, who concluded, as
we have seen, that the white men had been dashed to pieces on the rocks
far below.

Whether they afterwards found out their mistake or not we cannot tell.

The reason--long afterwards ascertained--of this unprovoked attack on
the boat's crew, was the old story.  A party of godless white men had
previously visited that part of the coast and treated the poor natives
with great barbarity, thus stirring up feelings of hatred and revenge
against _all_ white men--at least for the time being.  In this way the
innocent are too often made to suffer for the guilty.

We will now return to our friends in the tree.



CHAPTER THREE.

DESCRIBES THE DEED OF AN AMATEUR MATADOR AND THE WORK OF A
ROUGH-AND-READY SHOEMAKER.

When the day began to break Hockins awoke, and his first impulse was to
shout "hold on!"  Ebony's first action was to let go, thereby bringing
himself to the ground with an awful thud, which would have told severely
on any one less akin to india-rubber.

For a few minutes Mark Breezy, holding tight to his particular branch,
looked down at his companions, yawned heavily, and smiled a little.
Then a sudden impulse of memory caused him to look grave.

"Come," he said, dropping lightly from his perch, "these natives may
have been searching for us all night, and are perhaps nearer than we
suppose.  I vote that we push on at once."

"Agreed," said Hockins, stretching himself.

"No fear, Massa," remarked the negro.  "If it wur moonlight dey might
'ave search, but whar de nights am dark dey knows better.  De niggahs in
dis yer island hab got skins an' eyes an' noses.  If dey was to go troo
such woods in de dark, dey hab no skins or eyes or noses in de mornin'--
leas'wise nuffin' wuth mentionin'.  Cause why?  Dey'd all git knocked
into a sorter mush.  Plenty ob time for breakfast 'fore we start."

"That's true, boy," said Hockins, "but where's the breakfast to come
from?"

"What! you no bringed nuffin' in your pockits?" asked the negro with a
look of visible anxiety on his expressive face.

Hockins turned his various pockets inside out by way of reply.

"I am equally destitute," said Mark.

The negro groaned as he slowly drew from his breeches pockets two
sea-biscuits and a cold sausage.

"I meant dat," he said, "as a light lunch for _one_ yisterday."

"It'll have to do dooty, then, as a heavy breakfast for three this
morning, Ebony.  Come, divide, and let's have fair play."

"Here, massa," said Ebony, handing the food to Mark, "you divide, I
ain't got de moral courage to do it fair.  Number one is too strong in
me when I's hungry!"

With a laugh at this candid admission the youth did his best at a fair
division.  In a few minutes the scanty meal was finished, and the
fugitives proceeded straight into the interior of the country at the
utmost speed which was compatible with sustained exertion.

They could see the faint outlines of a mountain range in the far
distance, and towards that they directed their steps, knowing that in
the event of sustained pursuit they had a much better chance of escaping
among the rugged fastnesses of a mountain region than in the forests or
on the plains.  But they saw plainly that there was many a weary mile to
traverse before the sheltering mountains could be reached.

At first they walked rapidly and in silence, one behind the other--Mark
leading--but as time passed, and the danger of being overtaken
decreased, they fell more into line and began to talk of their plans and
prospects.

Of course they thought about the _Eastern Star_, and the possibility of
her hanging about the coast in the hope of picking them up; but as there
was no certainty upon that point, and a return to the coast would be
like rushing into the very jaws of the lion, from which they were
fleeing, they soon dismissed the idea as untenable.

"Now then, the question is, sir, Wot are we a-goin' for to do?" said
Hockins.

"Ay, dat's de question," added Ebony with much force, and more than
Shakespearean brevity.

"Well now, lads," said Mark, "I've been thinking over that, and it seems
to me that there's not much to choose between.  Unfortunately, I know
uncommonly little about this island--not that my geographical education
has been neglected, but the class-books I have used did not give much
information about Madagascar.  I know, however, that the Mozambique
Channel, which divides us from Africa, is a little too wide to swim.  I
also know that there is a capital somewhere near the middle of the
island, the name of which begins with an `Ant,' and ends with a `rivo.'
There are some syllables between, I believe, but how many, is more than
I can tell.  There's a government in it, however, and a queen, and some
Christian missionaries.  Now, it strikes me that where there's a
government, a queen, and Christian missionaries, there must be more or
less of civilisation and safety, so I would advise that we make straight
for the capital."

"Right you are, sir," said Hockins.  "As I know nothin' whotsomever
about the place, I'll take my sailin' orders from you, captain, an'
steer a straight course for Anty--whatever-she-is--arivo, where I hope
we'll arrive O!--`all alive O!' in the course o' time.  What say you,
Ebony?"

"I's agreeable; don't care much for nuffin' when it don't trouble me.
But I's gettin' awful hungry, an' I don't see nuffin' to eat in dis yer
forest--not even fruit--dough it's pritty enough to look at."

The scenery through which they were passing at the time was indeed more
than pretty.  It was gorgeous, and would certainly have claimed more
attention from the travellers had they been less anxious to advance,
and, perhaps, less hungry.

By that time--near mid-day--they had got through the densest part of the
woods, and were come to a part where occasional openings in the foliage
lighted them up.  They had also discovered a narrow track or footpath,
which they gladly followed; for although by so doing they ran the risk
of coming suddenly upon natives, who might be foes just as well as
friends, the comparative ease of travelling was too great to be
neglected.  This path struck over hill and down dale in a somewhat
dogged and straightforward manner, scorning to go round hillocks, save
when too precipitous for unwinged animals.  At times it wound in and out
among trees of great beauty and variety, and of tropical aspect.
Elsewhere it plunged into denser stretches of forest, where the
profusion of vegetable life was extraordinary--here, a dense undergrowth
of shrubs, tree-ferns, and dwarf-palms; there, trees of higher growth,
and, shooting high above them all, the slender trunks of many varieties
of palms, whose graceful crowns and feathery leaves were pictured
vividly on the blue sky.  Elsewhere, innumerable creeping plants
interlaced the branches, producing a wild and beautiful net-work, their
tendrils crossing in all directions, and producing a green twilight in
places.  The whole was enriched by orchids, the abundant pink and white
wax-like flowers of which contrasted well with other wild-flowers
innumerable, and with many large and gorgeous flowering trees.

Different species of bamboos gave quite a peculiar aspect to the scenery
in some places, and still greater variety was secured by long pendant
masses of feathery grey moss and lichens.  Some of the trees were of
enormous height; one palm, with a straight stem, in particular, being
estimated as not less than a hundred feet high to the spot where the
leaves sprouted.

"'Tis a perfect paradise!" exclaimed Mark, stopping suddenly and looking
around with admiration.

"Yes, massa," murmured Ebony, with solemn looks, "if dere was on'y a few
wegibles--cooked!  Flowers is all bery well to look at, but we can't
heat him."

"Well, if we can't eat, we can, at all events, sleep," returned Mark.
"I believe it is usually thought wise in tropical countries to cease
work and rest about noon, so, as I feel rather tired, I'll have a
snooze.  What say you?"

No objection being made, the party again climbed into the branches of a
low spreading tree, in order to avoid snakes, scorpions, or any other
noxious creatures, though they knew not at the time whether such existed
on the island.  In less than five minutes they were sound asleep.

Awaking after about two hours' repose, they descended, wished for
something to eat, sighed, put a bold heart on it, tightened their belts
to suit diminishing waists, and continued their journey.

Perseverance is sure to be rewarded.  If that is not a proverb, it ought
to be!  At all events the perseverance of our travellers was rewarded at
this time by their coming suddenly out of the woods into a wide grassy
plain, on which was browsing a herd of wild cattle--at least they judged
them to be wild from the fact of their being discovered in such a wild
place, and resolved to treat them as wild because of the "wolves" inside
of them, which clamoured so wildly for food.

"Beef!" exclaimed Hockins in some excitement, as he pointed to the
animal nearest to them, which happened to be a black, sleek, fat young
bull, with slender limbs and fierce eyes.

"Neber mind the wegibles, massa; shot 'un!" exclaimed Ebony in an
excited whisper, as he turned his glaring eyeballs on his leader.

"Hush! don't speak," returned Mark, drawing quietly back into cover--for
the animal had not observed them.  "We must consult what is to be done,
because, you know, we have lost our powder-flask, the two charges in my
gun are all I have got, and these are only small shot--I have no
bullets!"

Grave concern overspread the face of the sturdy seaman--blank dismay
that of the sea-cook!

"Might as well blaze at the beast wi' sand," said Hockins.

"Or wid nuffin'," sighed Ebony.

"Nevertheless, I will try," said Mark, quickly.  "We shall be starved to
death at this rate.  Yonder is a line of bushes that runs close out to
the brute.  I'll stalk it.  When close I will make a dash at it, get as
near as I can, clap the muzzle against its ribs if possible, and--well,
we shall see!  You two had better stop here and look on."

"No, massa," said the negro, firmly, "I go wid you.  If you _is_ to die,
we die togidder!"

"What are you thinking of, Hockins?" asked the youth, observing that the
seaman stood staring at the ground with knitted brows, as if in deep
thought.

"I'll go with you too," he replied, drawing his cutlass and feeling its
point with his finger.  "You may need help.  Heave ahead, sir."

Mark could not avoid smiling at the way in which this was said, although
he was sufficiently impressed with the hopelessness, it might even be
the danger, of the attempt he was about to make.

They found no difficulty in approaching to within about thirty yards of
the animal, being well concealed by the line of bushes before mentioned,
but beyond that point there was no cover.  Here therefore Mark cocked
his gun and gathered himself up for a rush, and Hockins drew his
cutlass.  So agile was our young doctor that he actually reduced the
thirty yards to ten before the astonished bull turned to fly.  Another
moment and the contents of both barrels were lodged in its flank.  The
effect was to produce a bellow of rage, a toss-up of the hindquarters,
and a wild flourish of the tail, as the animal scurried away after the
rest of the herd, which was in full flight.

Poor Breezy stopped at once, with a feeling of mingled disgust and
despair.  Ebony also stopped, and looked with wide sympathetic eyes in
his leader's face, as though to say, "Well, massa, you's done your
best."

But Hockins ran on with persistent vigour, although the creature was
leaving him further behind at every stride.

"Absurd!" murmured Mark, as he gazed at him.

"No use wassomiver," said Ebony.

It did indeed seem as if the seaman's exertions would prove abortive,
but something in the spirit of the wounded bull suddenly changed the
aspect of affairs.  Whether it was the stinging pain of the small shot
in its flank, or the indignation in its breast that influenced it we
cannot tell, but in a moment it wheeled round with a furious roar and
charged its pursuer.

Hockins stopped at once, and his comrades fully expected to see him turn
and run; but our seaman was made of better stuff than they gave him
credit for, and the situation was not so new to him as they imagined.
In the course of his voyaging to many lands, Hockins had been to a
bull-fight in South America.  He had seen with fascination and some
surprise the risks run by the footmen in the arena; he had beheld with
mingled anger and disgust the action of the picadors, who allowed their
poor horses to be gored to death by the infuriated bulls; and he had
watched with thrilling anxiety, not unmingled with admiration, the cool
courage of the matadors, as they calmly stood up to the maddened and
charging bulls and received them on the points of their swords, stepping
lightly aside at the same moment so as to avoid the dangerous horns.

The seaman's purpose now was to act the part of a matador.  He knew that
he possessed coolness and nerve sufficient for the deed; he hoped that
he had the skill; he felt that hunger could no longer remain
unsatisfied; he feared that death by starvation might be the lot of
himself and his companions, and he preferred to meet death in action--if
meet it he must.  All things considered, he resolved to face the bovine
thunderbolt with unflinching front, like a true-blue British tar!

His coolness in the circumstances was evinced by the remarks muttered to
himself in a growly tone as the bull approached.

"Three futt--that'll be enough.  I don't rightly remember how near them
mattydoors let him come before they putt their helms hard down an' let
him go by, but I think three futt'll do."

This decision was barely reached when the bull was upon him with lowered
head and erect tail.  It was an awful rush, but Hockins stood like a
rock with the cutlass pointed.  At the pre-arranged moment he stepped to
one side, but instead of letting the momentum of the animal do the work,
he could not resist the impulse to drive the cutlass deeper into the
bull's neck.  The result was that, though he escaped the creature's horn
by a very narrow shave, the cutlass was wrenched violently from his
grasp, and he was sent head over heels upon the plain!

Seeing this, Mark and the negro ran to the rescue, the one howling like
a maniac, the other clubbing his gun; but their aid was not required,
for the work of the amateur matador had been effectively done.  After
receiving the deadly thrust the bull plunged forward a few paces, and
then fell dying upon the ground, while Hockins got up and began to feel
himself all over to make sure that no bones were broken.

It need scarcely be told that they rejoiced greatly over their success,
and that they cut off some of the flesh immediately, with which they
returned to the forest to enjoy a much-needed meal.

"We must kindle a fire now," said Mark, stopping at an open space in the
midst of a very secluded spot at the foot of a magnificent palm-tree.
"You see I'm not prepared to act like a cannibal or Eskimo, and eat the
meat raw."

"There won't be much fear now," said Hockins, "especially if we make the
fire of dry wood an' keep it small.  Just look at that, Doctor."

He held out his cutlass for inspection.  It had been seriously bent in
the recent encounter.

"Ain't that a cryin' shame to the owners, now, to send us poor fellows
to the eastern seas, where we may meet pirates any day, with tin
cutlashes like that."

"You kin put him straight de next bull you kills," said Ebony, as he
prepared some touchwood; "you've on'y got to stick 'im on the _left_
side an' he'll twis' it all right.  Now, massa, I's ready, bring de gun
an' snap de flints ober dat."

Hockins straightened his weapon between the branches of a tree, his
comrades managed to capture a spark in a mass of dry combustibles, which
soon burst into a flame.  As the seaman had recommended, only the driest
wood was used, and just enough of that to enable them to half-roast what
food they required.  Then they returned to the carcass of the bull, and
cut off a large quantity of meat, using the cutlass as well as their
clasp-knives in the operation.

"Cut the meat in thin slices," said Mark Breezy, when they began this
work.

"Why you so 'ticklar, massa?" asked Ebony.  "I's fond o' t'ick slices--
w'en him's not too tough."

"Because then we can dry the meat in the sun or over a slow fire, and so
be able to keep it longer without spoiling.  We must spend the night
here for the purpose, and perhaps part of to-morrow.--Why, Hockins, what
are you about?"

"Makin' a pair o' shoes, sir; you see them old dancin' pumps as I left
the ship with wouldn't hold out another day o' this rough travellin', so
I'm makin' a noo pair of shoes when I've got the chance."

"They will be a primitive pair," observed Mark.

"If that means a good pair, you're right, sir.  They are after the
pattern first made by Adam for Eve--leas'wise it's supposed her first
pair o' dancin' pumps was made this fashion.  I'll make a sim'lar pair
for you, sir, w'en your boots give out."

In case the reader should ever be reduced to extremities in the matter
of foot-gear we may explain the seaman's method.

Selecting what he believed to be the thickest part of the bull's hide,
he cut off a small portion about eighteen inches square.  Spreading this
on the ground with the hair upwards, he planted his naked foot on it and
marked the shape thereon.  Then with his knife he cut away the hide all
round the foot-mark at four inches or so from the outline of the foot.
Next, he bored little holes all round the margin, through which he ran a
line, or lace, also made of raw hide.  Then, planting his foot again in
the middle of the hide, he drew the line tight, causing the edges to
rise all round the foot and almost cover it.

"There you are, sir," he said, stretching out his limb and admiring the
contrivance; "rough-an'-ready, you see, but soon finished.  It ain't
recorded in ancient history what Eve said when Adam presented her wi'
the little testimonial of his affection, but if I might ventur' a guess
I should opine that she said `puckery.'"

"H'm!  Dey ain't a tight fit," observed Ebony.  "I's ob opinion dat your
corns are quite safe in 'em."

Having completed his shoe-making work, the ingenious seaman assisted his
companions to prepare the dried meat, which they afterwards tied up in
three convenient little parcels to be slung on their backs.

That night they found a more commodious tree to sleep in.  Under the
pleasant influence of a good supper they enjoyed unbroken rest, and
awoke the following morning greatly refreshed.  They were thus, both
physically and mentally, prepared for the events of that day, to which,
as they afterwards had a most important bearing on their fortunes in the
island, we will devote a separate chapter.



CHAPTER FOUR.

THE DOCTOR FINDS UNEXPECTED WORK IN THE WILDERNESS, AND A MYSTERIOUS
STRANGER IS INTRODUCED.

It has been said that the travellers--for we cannot now appropriately
style them fugitives--had reached a more open country, and that
Hockins's fight with the wild bull had taken place on the margin of a
wide grassy plain.

This plain, however, was limited.  In front of them the scenery was
undulating and beautifully varied--almost park-like in its character,
and only in one direction--to the right--did it extend like a sea of
waving grass to the horizon.  Behind them lay the dense forest through
which they had passed.  The forest also curved round to their left, and
stretched away, apparently unbroken, on to still far-off mountains.

After they had breakfasted, packed their dried meat, and sallied forth
on the journey of another day, they walked in silence until they reached
the edge of the plain, where there was room to walk abreast.

"Now, comrades," said Mark Breezy, "we will go to the top of yon mound,
see how the land lies, and hold a council of war."

"Just so, cap'n; take our bearin's an' lay our course," assented
Hockins.

They soon reached the spot, and found the view from it unexpectedly
beautiful.  The whole landscape was clothed with tropical verdure.  Past
the foot of the mound ran a considerable stream, which opened out into a
series of lakelets in the hollows beyond, the waters of which seemed to
be the home of considerable numbers of wild-fowl,--but there was no sign
of the presence of man.

"Strange," said Mark, in a low voice, "that such a lovely scene should
have been created a solitude, with no one to profit by or enjoy it."

"Well now, sir," remarked the sailor, "d'ee know that same thought has
puzzled me now an' again; for although my purfession is the sea, I've
travelled a good bit on the land--specially in South America--and I've
seen miles on miles o' splendid country, that made me think of Adam an'
Eve in paradise, with never a soul, as you say, to make use of or enjoy
it.  I've often wondered what it was all made for!"

"Don't you tink," said Ebony, with his head a little on one side, and
his earnest eyes betraying the sincerity of his nature, "don't you tink
dat p'r'aps de ducks an' geese, an' sitch-like, makes use ob an' enjoys
it? to say nuffin' oh de beasts, hinsects, an' fishes."

"You may be right, Ebony," returned Hockins, with an approving nod; "we
human being's is apt to think too much of ourselves.  Moreover, it has
come into my mind that Great Britain was a solitood once--or much about
it--an' it's anything but that now; so mayhap them lands will be
swarmin' wi' towns an' villages some day or other.  What d'ee think,
Doctor?"

But the young doctor said nothing, for while his companions were thus
indulging in speculations, he was anxiously considering what course they
should pursue.

"You see, comrades," he said, turning to them abruptly, "if we go to the
right and traverse this fine country we may very likely fall in with
villages, but the villagers may be savages, like those we met on the
coast.  On the other hand, if we go to the left, we shall have to
traverse the somewhat dark and difficult forests, but then we shall be
making for the mountains and table-lands of the interior; and as the
capital, Ant--Ant--"

"Anty-all-alive-O!" suggested Hockins.

"No, 's not dat.  It ends wid `arrive O!' w'ich is just what we wants."

"Well, whatever may be its name, I know that it is in the centre of the
island somewhere, and the centre of any land always means the mountains;
so I think we had better decide to go to the left, and--"

"Hallo! look yonder, sir," said Hockins, pointing towards a low cliff
which rose in front of them not a quarter of a mile from the spot where
they stood.

Turning in the direction indicated, they observed a man running swiftly,
as if in pursuit of something.  They could see that he was clothed, and
that he carried several spears, from which they judged that he was a
hunter.  Coming to the foot of the cliff before mentioned, the man
ascended the face of it with wonderful agility, and had almost gained
the top, when a treacherous root or stone gave way, causing him to lose
his hold and roll violently to the bottom.

"Poor fellow, he's killed!" cried Mark, running towards the fallen
hunter, who lay on the ground motionless.

He was not killed, however, though stunned and bleeding profusely from a
deep wound in the arm, caused by one of his own spears while in the act
of falling.  When the three strangers suddenly appeared the hunter
grasped one of the spears and made a vigorous attempt to rise, evidently
under the impression that he was about to be attacked; but the fall and
the loss of blood were too much for him.  He sank back with a groan, yet
there was a look of quiet dignity about him which showed that he gave
way to no craven spirit.

Our young doctor, kneeling down beside him, proceeded at once to staunch
the wound and bind up the arm with his pocket-handkerchief.  While he
was thus engaged, Hockins brought some water from a neighbouring stream
in a cup which he had extemporised out of a piece of bark, and applied
it to the man's lips.  Ebony stood by, with a look of profound pity on
his face, ready for whatever might be required of him.

The hunter showed by the expression of his handsome brown features that
he was grateful for these attentions.  Yet, at the same time, there
seemed to be something of perplexity, if not surprise, in his looks as
he gazed on the white men's faces.  But he did not utter a word.  When
the dressing of the arm was completed--of course in a most businesslike
manner--he again attempted to rise, but was so weak from loss of blood
that he fell back fainting in the Doctor's arms.

"This is a most awkward business," said Mark, as he laid the man
carefully on the ground, and put a bundle of grass under his head for a
pillow.  "It behoves us to push on our journey without delay, yet it
will never do to leave him here alone, and we can't very well take him
on with us.  What _is_ to be done!"

Both Hockins and the negro _looked_ their incapacity to answer that
question.  Just then the answer came in the form they least expected,
for a sound of many voices in clamorous talk suddenly broke on their
ears.  The speakers, whoever they might be, were still distant, and the
formation of the ground prevented our travellers being seen by them.

"Savages!" exclaimed Mark and Hockins in the same breath.

"Hide!" cried Ebony, with a roll of his huge eyes, as he suited the
action to the word, and leaped into the bushes.  The others followed his
example, and running about a hundred yards back into the woods, climbed
into the branches of a lofty tree, from which outlook, well screened by
leaves, they saw a band composed of some hundreds of natives walking
smartly over the open plain.  From the manner of their approach it was
evident that they searched for some one, and as they made straight for
the cliff where the wounded man lay, it seemed probable that they were
following up his trail.

"We're done for," said Mark, in a tone of despair, as he noted this.

"Why d'ee think so, Doctor?" asked Hockins, who did not by any means
seem to take such a gloomy view of their case.

"Don't you see?  Savages can follow up people's trails almost as well as
dogs.  They'll easily trace us to the foot of this tree by our
footprints, and then they've only to look up!"

"That's true.  I had forgotten that."

"Dere's time to drop down yit, massa, and squatilate," suggested the
negro, excitedly.

Mark shook his head.

"Might as well try to run from tigers as from savages," he returned,
"unless you've got a good start."

"But they ain't all savages, sir," whispered Hockins, as the band drew
nearer.  "Some o' the naked black fellows look savage enough, no doubt,
but there's a lot of 'em lightish brown in the skin, an' clothed in fine
though queer garments.  They carry themselves, too, like gentlemen.
P'r'aps we'd better go for'ard an' trust them."

"Trust to 'em, 'Ockins!" said Ebony with a decided shake of the head,
"trust men wid _brown_ faces?  Nebber!"

The whispered conversation ceased at this point for a loud shout of
surprise mingled with alarm was raised as the band came to the foot of
the cliff and found what appeared to be the dead body of the wounded
man.  Evidently they were friends, for while some of them kneeled down
beside the injured hunter to examine him, others gave way to gestures
and exclamations of grief.

Presently the watchers observed that one of those who kneeled beside the
body looked up with a smile and a nod of satisfaction as he pointed to
his chest.

"They've discovered that he's not dead," said Mark.

"Yes, massa, an' dey've diskivered de bandaged arm."

"Ay, an' it seems to puzzle 'em," added the seaman.

It did more than puzzle them.  They had not observed it at first,
because, just before running into the woods, Mark had covered it with a
loose shawl--a sort of linen plaid--which the man had worn round his
shoulders.  When they removed this and saw the bandage which was wound
round the limb in the most careful and perfect manner, they looked at
each other in great surprise; then they looked solemn and spoke in low
tones, glancing round now and then with saucer-like eyes, as if they
expected to see something frightful.

"I do believe, Doctor," whispered the seaman, "that they think your work
has been done by a goblin of some sort!"

It would indeed seem as if some such idea had entered the minds of the
band, for instead of examining the ground for footprints and following
them up--as was natural to have done--they silently constructed a litter
of branches, covered it with some of their garments, and quietly bore
the wounded and still unconscious man away in the direction of the
plains.

With thankful hearts our travellers slid to the ground, and hurried off
in the opposite direction towards the mountains.

That night they came to a deeply-shaded and rugged piece of ground in
the heart of the forest where there were caverns of various sizes.  Here
the solitude seemed to be so profound that the fear of pursuit gradually
left them, so they resolved to kindle a cheerful fire in one of the
caves, cook a good supper, and enjoy themselves.  Finding a cave that
was small, dry, and well concealed, they soon had a bright fire blazing
in it, round which they sat on a soft pile of branches--Mark and Hockins
looking on with profound interest and expectation while the negro
prepared supper.

"If I only had a quid o' baccy now," said Hockins, "I'd be as happy as a
king."

"I have the advantage of you, friend, for I am as happy as a king
without it," said the young doctor.

"Well, there's no denyin'," returned the seaman, "that you have the
advantage o' me; but if I only had the baccy I'd enjoy my disadvantage.
P'r'aps there's a bit left in some corner o'--"

He plunged his hands into each pocket in his garments, one after
another, but without success until he came to the left breast-pocket of
his coat.  When he had searched that to its deepest recesses he stopped
and looked up with a beaming countenance.

"Ho! got 'im?" asked Ebony, with interest.

Hockins did not reply, but, slowly and tenderly, drew forth--not a quid,
but--a little piece of brown wood about five or six inches long.

"A penny whistle!" exclaimed Mark.

"Speak with reverence, Doctor," returned the sailor, with a quiet smile,
"it ain't a penny whistle, it's a flageolet.  I stuck it here the last
time I was amoosin' the crew o' the _Eastern Star_ an' forgot I hadn't
putt it away.  Wait a bit, you shall hear."

Saying this Hockins put the tiny instrument to his lips, and drew from
it sounds so sweet, so soft, so melodious and tuneful, that his
companions seemed to listen in a trance of delight, with eyes as well as
with ears!

"Splendid!" exclaimed Mark, enthusiastically, when the sailor ceased to
play.  "Why, Hockins, I had no idea you could play like that!  Of course
I knew that you possessed musical powers to some extent, for I have
heard the tooting of your flageolet through the bulkheads when at sea;
but two or three inches of plank don't improve sweet sounds, I suppose."

"Ho! massa, didn't I tell you t'ree or four times dat he play mos'
awrful well?"

"True, Ebony, so you did; but I used to think your energetic praise was
due to your enthusiastic disposition, and so paid no attention to your
invitations to go for'ard an' listen.  Well, I confess I was a loser.
You must have played the instrument a long time, surely?"--turning to
the seaman.

"Yes, ever since I was a small boy.  My father played it before me, and
taught me how to finger it.  He was a splendid player.  He used
sometimes to go to the back of the door when we had a small blow-out,
an' astonish the company by playin' up unexpectedly.  He was great at
Scotch tunes--specially the slow ones, like this."

He put the little instrument to his lips again, and let it nestle, as it
were, in his voluminous beard, as he drew from it the pathetic strains
of "Wanderin' Willie," to the evidently intense enjoyment of Ebony, who
regarded music as one of the chief joys of life--next, perhaps, to
cooking!

But Mark and Ebony were not the only listeners to that sweet strain.
Just outside the mouth of the cave there stood a man, who, to judge from
the expression of his face, was as much affected by the music as the
negro.  Though he stood in such a position as to be effectually screened
from the view of those within, a gleam of reflected light fell upon his
figure, showing him to be a tall, handsome man in the prime of life.  He
was clothed in what may be styled a mixed European and native costume,
and a gun on which he rested both hands seemed to indicate him a hunter.
He carried no other weapon, except a long knife in his girdle.  The
mixed character of his garb extended also to his blood, for his skin,
though dark and bronzed from exposure, was much lighter than that of
most natives of the island, and his features were distinctly European.
Quiet gravity was the chief characteristic of his countenance, and there
was also an expression of profound sadness or pathos, which was probably
caused by the music.

When Hockins finished his tune the three friends were almost petrified
with astonishment--not unmingled with alarm--as they beheld this man
walk coolly into the cave, rest his gun on the side of it, and sit
gravely down on the opposite side of the fire.

The first impulse of our three friends, of course, was to spring up, but
the action of the man was so prompt, and, withal, so peaceful, that they
were constrained to sit still.

"Don't be alarmed.  I come as a friend.  May I sit by your fire?"

He spoke in good English, though with a decidedly foreign accent.

"You are welcome, since you come as a friend," said Mark, "though I must
add that you have taken us by surprise."

"Well now, stranger," said Hockins, putting his musical instrument in
his pocket, "how are we to know that you _are_ a friend--except by the
cut o' your jib, which, I admit, looks honest enough, and your actions,
which, we can't deny, are peaceable like?"

The seaman put this question with a half-perplexed, half-amused air.
The stranger received it without the slightest change in his grave
aspect.

"You have no other means of knowing," he replied, "except by my `jib'
and my actions."

"Dat's a fact, anyhow," murmured Ebony.

"Who _are_ you, and where do you come from?" asked Mark.

"I am an outlaw, and I come from the forest."

"That's plain-speakin', an' no mistake," said Hockins, with a laugh,
"an' deserves as plain a return.  We can't say exactly that _we_ are
outlaws, but we are out-an'-outers, an' we're going through the forest
to--to--Anty-all-alive-O! or some such name--the capital, you know--"

"Antananarivo," suggested the outlaw.

"That's it!  That's the name--I couldn't recall," said Mark, quickly.
"We are going there, if we can only find the way."

"I know the way," returned the outlaw, "and my reason for coming here is
to offer to show it you."

"Indeed!  But how came you to know our intentions, and what makes you
take so much interest in us?" asked Mark, with a look of suspicion.

"My reason for being interested in you," returned the stranger, "is a
matter with which you have nothing to do.  How I came to know your
intentions it is easy to explain, for I have followed you from the
sea-coast step by step.  I saw you escape from the savages, saw you
frightened out of the cave by my friends the outlaws, who dwell in it,
followed you while you traversed the forest, listened to your
conversations, witnessed your exploit with the bull, and observed you
when you helped and bandaged the wounded native."

It would be difficult to describe the looks or feelings with which the
three friends received this information.  Ebony's eyes alone would have
taken at least half-an-hour of the pencil to portray.

"But--but--why?" stammered Mark.

"Never mind the why," continued the outlaw, with a pleasant look.  "You
see that I know all about you--at least since you landed--and I also
know that you have been several times in unseen danger, from which I
have shielded you.  Now, you have arrived at a part of the forest which
is swarming with brigands, into whose hands you are sure to fall unless
I am with you.  I therefore come to offer myself as your guide.  Will
you have me?"

"It seems to me," returned Mark, with something of scorn in his tone,
"that we have no choice, for you have us at your mercy--we cannot
refuse.  I suppose you are the brigand chief, and are guarding us for
some sinister purpose of your own."

"I said not that I was a brigand," returned the stranger, quietly; "I
said I was an outlaw.  What else I am, and my motives of action, I
choose not to tell.  You say truly--I have you in my power.  That is one
reason why I would befriend you, if you will trust me."  The outlaw rose
up as he spoke.

There was such an air of quiet dignity and evident sincerity in the man
that Mark was strongly impressed.  Rising promptly, he stretched his
hand across the fire, saying, "We will trust you, friend, even though we
were _not_ in your power."

The outlaw grasped the youth's hand with a gratified look.

"Now," he added, as he took up his gun, "I will go.  In the morning at
day-break I will return.  Sleep well till then."

With something like a courtly salute, the mysterious stranger left them,
and disappeared into the depths of the forest.



CHAPTER FIVE.

THE OUTLAW'S FRIENDS.  THREATENED DANGER CURIOUSLY AVERTED.

As might be supposed, the unexpected appearance of the outlaw, as well
as his sudden departure, tended somewhat to interfere with the sleep
which he had wished the travellers at parting, and the night was far
advanced before they grew tired of wondering who he could be,
speculating as to where he came from, and commenting on his personal
appearance.  In short, at the close of their discourse, they came to the
conclusion which was well embodied in the remark of Ebony, when he said,
"It's my opinion, founded on obsarvashun, dat if we was to talk an tink
de whole night long we would come no nearer de troot, so I'll turn in."

He did turn in accordingly, and, after exhausting the regions of
conjecture, the powers of speculation, and the realms of fancy, Mark and
Hockins followed his example.

One consequence of their mental dissipation was that they slept rather
beyond the hour of day-break, and the first thing that recalled the two
white men to consciousness was the voice of their black comrade
exclaiming:--

"Ho! hi! hallo!  I smells a smell!"

They lifted their three heads simultaneously and beheld the outlaw
sitting calmly beside the fire roasting steaks.

For the first time the mysterious stranger smiled--and it was a
peculiarly sweet half-grave sort of attractive smile, as far removed
from the fiendish grin of the stage bandit as night is from day.

"I knew you would be hungry, and guessed you would be sleepy," he said,
in a deep musical voice, "so I have prepared breakfast.  Are you ready?"

"Ready!" repeated Hockins, rising with a mighty yawn, and stretching
himself, as was his wont; "I just think we are.  Leastwise _I_ am.  Good
luck to 'ee Mister Outlaw, what have 'ee got there?"

"Beef, marrow-bones, and rice," replied the man.  "You may call me
Samuel if you like.  It was my father's first name, but I'm best known
among my friends as Ravoninohitriniony."

"Well, that _is_ a jaw-breaker!" exclaimed Hockins, with a laugh, as
they all sat down to breakfast.  "Ra-vo--what did 'ee say?"

"Better not try it till arter breakfast," suggested Ebony.

"Couldn't we shorten it a bit?" said Mark, beginning to consult a
marrow-bone.  "What say you to the first half--Ravonino?"

"As you please," replied the outlaw, who was already too much absorbed
with steaks to look up.

"Not a bad notion," said Hockins.  "Sam'l Ravonino--I've heerd wuss;
anyhow it's better than the entire complication--eh, Ebony?"

"Mush better," assented the negro; "dere's no use wotsomediver for de
hitri--hitri-folderol-ony bit of it.  Now, 'Ockins, fair play wid de
marrow-bones.  Hand me anoder."

"Is it far, Mr Ravonino," asked Mark, "from here to the capital--to
Antananarivo?"

"You cleared 'im that time, Doctor!" murmured Hockins, wiping his mouth
with a bunch of grass which he carried as a substitute for a
pocket-handkerchief.

"Yes, it is a long way," said the outlaw; "many days' journey over
mountain and plain."

"And are you going to guide us all the way there?"

"No, not all the way.  You forget I am an outlaw.  It would cost me my
life if I were to appear in Antananarivo."

Mark was on the point of asking why, but, remembering the rebuff of the
previous night, forbore to put questions relative to his new friend's
personal affairs.  Indeed he soon found that it was useless to do so,
for whenever he approached the subject Ravonino became so abstracted and
deaf that no reply could be drawn from him.  As if to compensate for
this, however, the man was exceedingly communicative in regard to all
other subjects, and there was a quiet urbanity in his manner which
rendered his conversation exceedingly attractive.  Moreover, to the
surprise of Mark, this mysterious stranger gave evidence of a
considerable amount of education.  He also gratified Hockins by his
evident delight in the flageolet, and his appreciation of nautical
stories and "lingo," while he quite won the heart of Ebony by treating
him with the same deference which he accorded to his companions.  In
short each of our travellers congratulated himself not a little on this
pleasant acquisition to the party--the only drawback to their
satisfaction being their inability to reconcile the existence of such
good qualities with the condition of an outlaw!

"However," remarked Hockins, after a long talk with his comrades on this
subject when Ravonino was absent, "it's none of our business what he's
bin an' done to other people.  What we've got to do with is the way he
behaves to _us_, d'ee see?"

"He's a trump," said Ebony, with a nod of decision.

"I agree with you," said Mark; "and I only wish he was a little more
communicative about himself.  However, we must take him as we find him,
and try to win his confidence."

During the whole of that first day their guide conducted them through
such intricate and evidently unfrequented parts of the forest that their
advance was comparatively slow and toilsome, but, being young and strong
and well-fed, they did not mind that.  In fact Mark Breezy enjoyed it,
for the wilder and more tangled the scenery was through which they
forced their way, the more did it accord with the feelings of romance
which filled him, and the thought, too, of being guided through the
woods by an outlaw tended rather to increase his satisfaction.

"Are all the roads in your island as bad as these?" he asked, after
plumping up to the knees in a quagmire, out of which he scrambled with
difficulty.

"No, many of them are worse and some better," answered the guide; "but I
keep away from them, because the Queen's soldiers and spies are hunting
about the land just now."

"Oho!" thought Mark, "I begin to see; you are a rebel."  Then, aloud,
"Your country, then, is governed by a queen?"

"Misgoverned," returned Ravonino in a tone of bitterness, which,
however, he evidently tried to restrain.

Fearing to tread again on forbidden ground, Mark forbore to put
questions about the guide's objections to his queen, but simply asked
her name, and if she had reigned long.

"Her name," said Ravonino, "is Ranavalona.  She has reigned for
twenty-seven years--twenty-seven long and weary years!  I was a little
boy when she usurped the throne.  Now my sun has reached its meridian,
yet she is still there, a blight upon the land.  But God knows what is
best.  He cannot err."

This was the first reference that Ravonino had made to the Creator, and
Mark was about to push his inquiries further, when a confused sound of
voices was heard not far in advance of them.

Ravonino, who had been walking with an easy nonchalant air ahead of the
party, on a very narrow footpath, suddenly stopped to listen with a look
of anxiety.  A moment later and he entered the bush that fringed the
path and overhung it.

"Come," he said in a low voice, "follow me, close!"

Without a word of explanation he strode into the dense undergrowth,
through which he went with the agility of a panther and the sinuosity of
a serpent.  The others, being, as we have said, very active and strong,
kept close at his heels, though not without difficulty.  Coming at last
to a place where the shrubbery was so intertwined that it was impossible
to see more than a yard or two in advance, they suddenly found
themselves stopped by a sheer precipice.  Only for a few seconds,
however, was their progress arrested, while their guide turned to
explain.

"There is another and an easier way to the place I am making for, but it
is much longer and more exposed.  I take for granted that you have
strong arms and steady heads, but if not, speak out, for I would not
lead you into danger."

"Lead on," said Mark, promptly, "wherever you go, we will follow."

With something like an amused twinkle of the eye, Ravonino began to
climb up the face of the precipice, holding on to roots and rope-like
creepers like a monkey.

"If this here sort o' cordage was only a bit more taut I wouldn't mind
it so much," growled Hockins, as he lost his footing at one place, and
swung off the face of the precipice,--holding on to a stout creeper,
however, with seaman-like grip and coolness.  He quickly caught hold of
another creeper, and drew himself again into comparative safety.  A
minute later and they all stood on a ledge, high up on the face of the
cliff, and close to what appeared to be the mouth of a cavern.

"Look there," said their guide, pushing aside the bushes which overhung
the cliff in all directions.

They looked, and through the opening beheld a band of men moving in
single file along the track they had just left.  They were most of them
nearly naked, with only short calico breeches which did not quite reach
to their knees, but all had muskets on their shoulders and cross-belts
on their dark bodies, one of which belts sustained apparently a
cartridge-box, the other a bayonet.  Their own thick hair was all the
cap they wore, excepting two or three men of superior rank, who wore
cloths wrapped in turban fashion on their heads, and a voluminous
plaid-like garment on their shoulders.  These carried swords instead of
muskets.

"The soldiers of the Queen," said Ravonino, in answer to Mark Breezy's
look.  "They are out hunting."

"What do they hunt for?" asked Mark.

"Men and women."

"By which I suppose you mean rebels."

"No, they are not rebels; they are the queen's most loyal subjects!"

"But loyal subjects do not usually fly from their rulers," objected
Mark.

"True, but loyal subjects sometimes fly from tyranny," returned the
guide.  "Come, I will introduce you to some fugitives from tyranny."

He turned as he spoke and led the way into the cave before mentioned.
Profound darkness did not prevent his advancing with a firm unhesitating
step.  As he led Mark by the hand, Hockins and Ebony held on to him and
to each other, and had no difficulty in following.  Presently they came
to a wooden obstruction which proved to be a door.  Voices in
conversation were heard on the other side of it.  A knock from the guide
produced sudden silence.  Another knock drew from those within an
exclamation of surprise, and next moment the heavy door swung open on
creaking hinges.

"Yes, it _is_ Ravoninohitriniony!  I knew his knock.  He is come!"
exclaimed a girlish voice, as a pair of arms were seen dimly to encircle
the guide's neck.

Of course the girl spoke in the native tongue, which was quite
incomprehensible to our travellers, but if we are to enlighten our
readers we must needs translate as we go along.

"My sister, Ra-Ruth," said the guide, presenting her to his new friends.
"She was a lady in the palace of the queen once.  Now she is an outlaw,
like myself--has fled from tyranny, and, perhaps, death.  All in this
cave are in the same case--fugitives from our tyrant queen."

They reached the interior of the place as he spoke, and Ravonino,
pointing to a bundle of dried ferns, bade his companions rest there
until he had explained some private matters to the people.

Nothing loth--for they were all somewhat fatigued by their recent
exertions--our travellers flung themselves on what proved to be a
luxurious couch, and observed what went on around them.

Truly it was a strange scene, romantic enough even to satisfy the
longings of Mark Breezy!

The cavern itself was a curious one, being in the form of a vast hall,
with three smaller chambers opening out of it.  The central hall seemed
to have no roof, for although brightly lighted by several torches fixed
to its rugged walls the upper part was lost in profound obscurity.

This strange abode was peopled by a considerable number of men and
women--natives of the island--who from the variety in their costume,
features, and complexion, evidently belonged to different tribes.  Some
were strong, tall, and rather harsh-featured, others were more slender
in build and with refined countenances.  A few were almost black, others
of a light olive colour, and several made that approach to whiteness of
skin which in England is known as brunette.  All were more or less
characterised by that quiet gentleness and gravity of demeanour which
one is accustomed to associate with humbly borne misfortune.

It was evident from the appearance of the large chamber that its
inhabitants were associated in groups or families, spaces being marked
off by an arrangement of logs and household goods, etcetera, as if to
indicate the habitation of each group, and, from certain indications in
the smaller chambers, it was equally evident that these had been
apportioned as the sleeping-places of the females.  A larger space at
the end of the cave, opposite to that on which Mark and his comrades
reclined, seemed to be a general meeting-place.

To this spot it was that Ravonino went, leading his little sister
Ra-Ruth by the hand, and followed by all the inmates of the place, who
were eager to know what news he had brought.  That the news was the
reverse of good soon became evident, from the bowed heads and frequent
sighs with which it was received.

Of course our travellers could make no use of their ears, but they made
the best use of their eyes, and were deeply interested in the
expressions and actions of the various members of the group who
successively spoke after the guide had told his story.  Poor little
Ra-Ruth, whose age might have been about seventeen, was not one of the
speakers.  She was evidently a timid as well as a pretty little
creature, for she clung to and nestled against her stout brother's arm
while he was speaking, and hid her face now and then in the masses of
her luxuriant brown hair.

Close to her sat a young woman whose appearance and manner formed a
striking contrast.  She was much darker in complexion, but her features
were of classical beauty and her air calm and self-possessed.  When she
had occasion to speak, she arose, displaying a tall elegantly-formed
figure, which moved with queen-like dignity while she gesticulated with
graceful animation, and frequently pointed upwards as if appealing to.
God.  When she was speaking Ra-Ruth's timidity seemed to vanish, for she
shook back her hair, and fixed her eyes on the other's face with a gaze
that told of ardent love as well as admiration.

The next who spoke was a young man, who in face and figure so strongly
resembled the last speaker, that it was impossible to resist the
conclusion that they were brother and sister.  There was the same tall
commanding figure, of course on a larger scale, the same noble cast of
feature and the same dignified mien.  But in the man, more than in the
woman, there was an air of gentle modesty which contrasted well with his
powerful frame.  He did not gesticulate much in speaking, and, judging
from the brevity of his speech, he had not much to say, but what he said
was listened to with profound respect by all.

After this youth, several others took part in the debate.  Then they all
stood up, and, to the surprise of their visitors, began to sing--very
sweetly--an old familiar hymn!

"It minds me o' home," whispered Hockins, scarce able to restrain the
tears that filled his eyes.

The hymn was nearly finished, when a rushing sound and a subdued cry
were heard to issue from a dark passage, the mouth of which was close to
the couch of our travellers.  The singing ceased instantly.  Next moment
a man rushed into the chamber with labouring breath and flashing eyes.
Springing towards Ravonino, he spoke several words eagerly, at the same
time pointing in the direction of the passage just referred to.

"Lights out and silence!" cried the guide, authoritatively, in the
native tongue.

Another moment and the cave was in total darkness, and a silence so
profound reigned there that the three visitors could hardly persuade
themselves the whole affair was not a strange dream.  The voice of
Ravonino, however, soon dispelled that idea.

"Be still!" whispered the guide, laying his hand on Mark's shoulder.
"Our foes have discovered our retreat."

"There's a lot of stout fellows here," returned Mark, also in a whisper.
"We will help you if you have to fight."

"We may not fight," replied Ravonino softly.  "If it be God's will, we
must die.  Hush!  They come."

Once more total silence prevailed in the cavern, and the sound of
distant voices could be heard.  In a few minutes a tiny light was seen
at the end of the dark passage.  It gradually increased in size,
revealing a soldier who bore a torch.  He advanced on tip-toe, and with
slightly scared looks, into an outer cavern which formed a sort of
vestibule to the large inner cave.

The soldier was brave, no doubt, and would have faced an army in the
field, but he was extremely superstitious, and advanced with a
palpitating heart, the torch held high above his head, and eyes glancing
nervously from side to side.  A crowd of comrades, similarly affected
more or less, followed the torch-bearer and pushed him on.

"Nothing here," said the leading man, of course in Malagasy.

"Let us be gone, then," said one of his comrades.

"No," observed a third, who seemed bolder than the rest, "perhaps there
is another cave beyond," (pointing to the dark passage, through which,
though unseen, Mark and his companions with the guide were gazing
anxiously at their foes).  "Give me the torch."

The soldier seized the light and advanced quickly towards the opening.
Another minute and all must have been revealed.  A feeling of despair
took possession of Ravonino's breast and he gave vent to an involuntary
sigh.

The sound reached the ear of the soldier with the torch and for a moment
arrested him, but, thinking probably that the sound was in his
imagination, he again advanced.  The case was now desperate.  Just then
a gleam of light flashed into the mind of Hockins.  Next moment, to the
consternation of his comrades and the guide, a strain of the sweetest
music floated softly in the air!

The soldiers stood still--spell-bound.  It was not an unfamiliar air,
for they had often heard the hated Christians sing it, but the sweet,
liquid--we might almost say tiny--tones in which it was conveyed, were
such as had never before reached their ears or even entered their
imaginations.  It was evident from their countenances that the soldiers
were awe-stricken.  The seaman noted this.  He played only a few bars,
and allowed the last notes of his flageolet to grow faint until they
died away into absolute silence.

For a minute or two the soldiers stood rooted to the spot, gazing up
into the roof of the cave as if expecting a renewal of the sounds.  Then
they looked solemnly at each other.  Without uttering a word they turned
slowly round, retreated on tip-toe as they came, and finally
disappeared.

We need hardly say that the astonishment of the people in the cave at
the mode of their deliverance from the threatened danger was intense.

When the torches were relighted the men and women assembled round
Ravonino with looks little less solemn than those of the soldiers who
had just taken their departure.

"Surely," said the handsome young man whom we have already introduced,
"surely God has wrought a miracle and sent an angel's voice for our
deliverance."

"Not so, Laihova," replied Ravonino, with a slight smile.  "We are too
apt to count everything that we fail to understand a miracle.  God has
indeed sent the deliverance, but through a natural channel."

"Yet we see not the channel, Ravoninohitriniony," said Laihova's
queen-like sister, Ramatoa.

"True, Ramatoa.  Nevertheless I can show it to you.  Come, Hockins," he
added in English, "clear up the mystery to them."

Thus bidden, our seaman at once drew forth the little instrument and
began to play the hymn they had just been singing, with the air of
which, as we have said, he chanced to be well acquainted.

It would be hard to say whether surprise or pleasure predominated in the
breasts of his audience.  At last the latter feeling prevailed, and the
whole assembly joined in singing the last verse of the hymn, which
appropriately terminated in "Praise ye the Lord."

"But our retreat is no longer safe," said Ravonino, when the last echo
of their thanksgiving had died away.  "We must change our abode--and
that without delay.  Get ready.  By the first light of morning I will
lead you to a new home.  These soldiers will not return, but they will
tell what they have seen, and others less timorous will come here to
search for us."

Immediately the people set about collecting together and packing up what
may be termed their household goods, leaving the guide and their
visitors to enjoy supper and conversation in their own corner of the
cave.



CHAPTER SIX.

THE GUIDE BECOMES COMMUNICATIVE, AND TELLS OF TERRIBLE DOINGS.

During the progress of supper, which consisted of cold dried meat and
rice, the quartette seated on the ferns in the corner of the cave were
unusually silent.  Mark Breezy and Ravonino continued to eat for some
time without speaking a word.  Ebony, although earnestly absorbed in
victuals, rolled his eyes about as he looked from time to time at his
companions with unwonted solemnity, and John Hockins frowned at his
food, and shook his shaggy head with an air of dissatisfied perplexity.

"Ravonino," at length said the last, looking up, and using his grass
pocket-handkerchief, "it seems to me, bein' a plain straight-for'ard
sort o' seaman, that there's somethin' not exactly fair an' above-board
in all them proceedin's.  Of course it's not for me to say what a
independent man should do or say; but don't you think that w'en a man
like you professes to be honest, an' asks other men to trust him, he
should at least explain _some_ o' the riddles that surround him?  I'm a
loyal man myself, an' I'll stand up for _my_ Queen an' country, no
matter what may be the circumstances in w'ich I'm placed; so that w'en I
sees another man admittin' that he's a outlaw, an' finds the soldiers of
_his_ Queen a-huntin' all about the country arter him and his comrades--
seems to me there's a screw loose somewheres."

"Dat's _my_ sent'ments zactly," said the negro, with a decisive nod.

Mark took no notice of this speech, but silently continued his supper.
For a few moments the guide did not speak or look up.  Then, laying down
his knife and clasping his hands over one of his knees, he looked
earnestly into the seaman's face.

"You tell me you are loyal," he said.

Hockins nodded.

"If your queen," continued Ravonino, "were to tell you to give up the
service of God and worship idols, would you do it?"

"Cer'nly not," replied the seaman, promptly, "for she has no right to
rule over my soul.  My duty to the King of Kings stands before my duty
to the Queen of England."

Again the guide was silent for a few minutes.  Then he said:--

"Hockins, by God's blessing you have saved the lives of all our party
this day--at least it seemed so, for, another step, and that soldier
would have discovered us if your little pipe had not stopped him.  You
are therefore entitled to expect some gratitude, and, from what I have
seen of you and your comrades, I have reason to believe you will not
betray us, even if you get the chance."

"Right you are, friend, I will never betray an honest man; an' I may
speak for my comrades as well as self, for they're true-blue to the
back-bone--"

"Furder nor dat," interposed Ebony, "troo-bloo to de marrow!"

"Don't you shove in your oar till you're ordered, you nigger!  Well, as
I was a-sayin', we'll never betray honest men, but I give you fair
warnin' if you're _not_ honest, we'll have nothin' to do wi' your
secrets, an' if our duty to God an' man requires us to go against you,
we'll do it without flinchin'."

"So be it.  I am satisfied," returned Ravonino, calmly.  "I will tell
you as much as I think you are entitled to know.  It may have reached
your ears, perhaps, that there has been terrible persecution in this
island for many years."

Here Mark Breezy took up the conversation.

"No," said he, with something of a deprecatory air, "we did not know it.
For my part I am ashamed to say so; but I will say in excuse that the
British empire is widely extended in every quarter of the globe, and her
missions are so numerous that average men can scarcely hope to keep up
with the details of all of the persecutions that occur.  Rumours,
indeed, I have heard of doings in Madagascar that vie with the
persecutions of the Scottish Covenanters; but more than this I know not,
though of course there are men connected with our Missionary Societies--
and many people, no doubt, interested in missions--who know all about
the persecutions in Madagascar.  Is it in connection with this that you
have been outlawed?"

"It is.  Ranavalona, the blood-stained usurper, our present queen, is
filled with such bitter hatred of Christianity that she has for many
years persecuted the native Christians who have been taught by white
missionaries from your land.  Hundreds of men and women have been
murdered by her orders because they refused to forsake Christ; others
have been banished to regions so unhealthy that they have died, and many
have been sold into slavery."

The eyes of the guide gleamed for a moment, and his stern countenance
flushed as he thus referred to the sorrows of his people, but by a
strong effort he controlled his feelings, and his countenance resumed
its habitual quietude.

"My mother and my sister and I," he continued, "were sold into slavery.
My mother was a native lady, high in station, and a member of the court
of King Radama the First, who was very favourable to Missionaries.  I
was an infant at that time; my little sister was not born.  My father
was an English trader, skilled in many handicrafts, and a great
favourite with the king, who fostered the Christian religion and helped
those who came to teach us.  Our teachers learned our language; taught
us the love of God, and, through the power of the Holy Spirit, brought
many of us to the Saviour.  But they were persevering and wise as well
as good.  Having learned our language--in which my father helped them
much--they taught us to read; translated many parts of the Word of God
into our tongue; sent home for presses and types, and had these printed,
as well as the _Pilgrim's Progress_ and other books.

"Peace, joy, and prosperity were spreading in our land.  Idol-worship
and cruel customs were being uprooted, and everything was going well
when the king died--whether a Christian or not, who can tell? for,
although favourable to, he never professed, Christianity.  `The Lord
knoweth them that are His!'  The rightful heir to the throne, according
to our customs, was Rakotobe--a good young man who had been taught by
the missionaries, and was nephew to the king; but Ranavalona, one of the
king's wives, resolved to seize the opportunity.  A bold bad woman, with
a powerful will and no principle, she carried her point by reckless
bloodshed.  There were men at court as bad as herself who agreed to aid
her.  When she boldly claimed the throne, four loyal nobles asserted the
claim of Rakotobe.  They were instantly speared in the palace.  The
rightful heir was not present.  Soldiers were sent to his residence to
seize and kill him, before he should hear of what was going on.

"Not content with shedding blood, the cruel monsters dug the poor
youth's grave before his eyes.  When they were thus engaged Rakotobe
kneeled down to pray, and while he was in this position they speared him
and cast him into his grave.  Soon after the father and mother of
Rakotobe were murdered--the last being starved to death.  The brother of
Radama was destroyed in like manner.  He lingered eight days in agony
before death came to his relief.  Then Rakotobe's grandmother and other
relations were slain by Ranavalona's orders, and thus the murderess
waded through blood to the throne of Madagascar!

"Think you," continued the guide, with a passing gleam of the anger
which he strove to restrain, "think you that I owe allegiance to _such_
a queen?"

"Truly ye do not," answered the seaman, stoutly.  "My only wonder is
that the people suffer her to reign."

Scarce heeding the reply the guide continued, with suppressed
excitement, "but she did not rest content.  It was in the year 1829 that
she usurped the throne.  Since then she has persecuted the Christians
for more than a quarter of a century, and at times blood has flowed like
water in our land.  Bad as she is, however, she would have been worse
but for her love to her son.  Ay, the woman whose heart is a stone to
most people is soft towards the young prince Rakota, in spite of the
fact that this youth is favourable to the Christians and has often stood
between them and his mother.

"About nine years after the queen's coronation my little sister was
born, and was secretly baptised--the name of Ruth being given to her.
It is our custom to prefix Ra to many names--so she is Ra-Ruth.  Look at
her!"  He pointed to a group not far-off, where the delicate and
graceful girl was busily assisting an elderly woman in her packing
arrangements.  "See you the lady beside her, with the grey hair and the
sad worn face?  That is my mother.  I have said she was high at the
Court of Radama the First.  She was young then.  I was born the year
that Radama died.  Ranavalona was fond of her, though she loved not her
Christianity, so she continued at the palace.  The Queen also became
very fond of my little sister when she began to grow to womanhood, but
Ra-Ruth could not return the affection of one whose hands were stained
so deeply with Christian blood.  I was an officer in the palace at the
time, but would gladly have left, only my doing so might have roused the
queen's wrath against my father and mother.

"At last the missionaries were ordered to quit the capital.  In 1849 a
great persecution took place.  The queen became furious because her
people would not cease to love and serve Jesus.  She ordered many men
and women to be speared and burned and tossed over precipices, but all
without avail, because `greater is He who is for us than all who can be
against us.'

"My father was away on a trading expedition at this time.  One day in
attempting to cross a lake he was drowned."  The guide's voice deepened
as he went on, "He was a good loving father to me.  He taught me nearly
all I know, and he was no mean scholar.  He also sent me to the
missionary schools.  After his death the Queen hardened her heart
against us; and as we refused to give up praying to God and singing His
praise, we were cast out of the palace--my mother and sister and I, with
several others, among whom were Laihova and his sister Ramatoa.  We were
sold into slavery in the public market.

"Our purchaser was cruel.  He put us to the hardest menial work.  We
remained for several years with him.  The health of my poor mother and
sister began to give way.  Then he sold me to another man, and we were
separated.  This was too much, I suppose, for the English blood in me to
endure quietly.  I made my escape.  I went back to my old owner, and, in
the night, induced my mother and sister to fly.  Many persecuted
Christians have fled since then and are now hiding in dens and caves
like hunted beasts.  We soon found some of these in the depths of the
forests, and agreed to band together.  They made me their leader, and I
brought them here, where we have lived and worshipped God in peace; but,
as you have seen, we are liable to be captured at any moment."

"And if captured," said Mark, "would the Queen really put you to death?"

"I fear she would; nay, I am certain of it, because one who recently
escaped from Antananarivo has just brought the news that the Queen has
been visited with a fresh burst of anger against the Christians, has
thrown many into prison and sent out troops to scour the country in
search of those who have fled."

"But if that is so," said Hockins, earnestly, "what's the use o' you
riskin' your life by goin' with us to Ant--Ant--all-alive-O!  (I'll
never git that name into my head!)  Why not just sketch us out a rough
chart o' the island on a bit o' bark, give us the bearin's o' the
capital, an' let us steer a straight course for it.  I'll be bound that
we'll make our port easy enough."

"Yes, Hockins speaks wisely," added Mark.  "It is very kind of you to
take so much trouble for us, but there is no need to run such great risk
on our account."

"You do not consider," replied Ravonino, "that it is more difficult for
sailors to cross the wild forest than to find their way on the trackless
sea, and you forget also that the way is long, that Madagascar is larger
than Great Britain and Ireland put together.  There are many tribes,
too, some of which are not so hospitable as others.  You could not avoid
the dangers of this wilderness easily without a guide.  Besides, I do
not mean to enter the capital.  I will merely guide you to within sight
of it and then leave you.  Fortunately you require no assistance from
natives, not being encumbered with this world's goods."

"Das troo; ha, ha-a!" cried Ebony, opening his portentous mouth and
shutting his eyes, "we've got no luggidge."

"Well, we shall only be too glad of your company," said Mark, with some
feeling, "and we thank you most heartily for your disinterested
kindness."

"My conduct is not altogether disinterested," returned the guide.  "The
truth is, I had no intention at first of doing more than guiding you to
the right pass in the mountains, but since I have been with you my
feelings have been modified, and the news which we have just received
has--has filled me with anxiety, and raised in my mind the idea that--
that I may even make use of you!"

"That's right," exclaimed Mark, heartily, "I'm glad if there is the
smallest chance of our serving you in any way.  In what way can we do
so?"

For some moments the guide displayed a degree of hesitancy which his
friends had not before noticed in him.  Then he spoke, slowly--

"Well, the truth is, that I have a friend in the palace who is, I have
been told, in great danger, owing to the wrath of Ranavalona.  I thought
that somehow, perhaps, you might give warning to this friend, and say
that Samuel Ravoninohitriniony is in the neighbouring forest, and--"

Here the guide stopped short, and seemed to be in some perplexity.  Mark
Breezy, whose young and romantic spirit was deeply stirred by the
prospect of adventure which his words had opened up, assured him with
enthusiasm that whatever was possible for man to accomplish he might
depend upon being at least vigorously attempted.  To which assurance
John Hockins begged to "putt the word ditto," and the negro fervently
added, "Das so--me too!"

"But how are we to find your friend," asked Mark, "seeing that we don't
know him, and have never seen him?"

"My friend is not a man, but a--a woman, a young girl," said Ravonino,
with the slightest possible symptom of confusion, which opened the eyes
of Mark instantly, and still further stirred his sympathies.

"Ravonino," he exclaimed, suddenly grasping the guide's hand, "treat me
as a friend and trust me.  You love this young girl!  Is it not so?
Nay, man, don't be angry with me.  I can't help sympathising.  Why, I
know something of your--your--a--condition myself.  The morning I left
England, the very last person I said good-bye to was a fair young girl,
with golden hair, and a rosebud mouth, and such lovely blue--"

"Das right, Massa," burst in Ebony, with a crow of admiration.  "It doos
my bery heart good to see a man as is proud ob his sweet'art.  I's got
one too, bress you! but _she_ ain't fair!  No, she's black as de kitchen
chimbly, wid a bootiful flat nose, a mout' like a coal-scuttle, an'
_such_ eyes--oh!"

"Hold your tongue, Ebony!  Now, am I not right, Ravonino?"

"You are right," answered the guide, gravely, yet without displeasure.
"My Rafaravavy is in danger, and I must save her from this murderess at
all hazards.  It is right, however, to tell you that if you attempt to
aid me you will encounter both difficulty and danger."

"Don't mention that, friend.  No true man would shrink from either in a
good cause," said Mark.  "But when must we set out on this expedition?"

"By day-break to-morrow.  Our new hiding-place is on our way, so the
change will not delay us; and from what the fugitives have told us, I
hope--indeed I feel sure--that the Queen will do no further mischief for
some weeks to come.  But now, comrades," said the guide, rising, "we
must rest if we would work to-morrow.  Follow me."

He led them into one of the side caves, when the whole of the people
followed, as if by preconcerted arrangement.  Here a much-soiled book in
a leathern cover was produced.  It was a portion of the Bible in the
Malagasy language.  A few verses were reverently read by the guide; a
brief earnest prayer was offered by a very old man; a hymn was sung, and
then the people dispersed to their several sections of the cave.
Finally the lights were extinguished, and the place was left in silence
and darkness profound.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

DESCRIBES A MEEK MOTHER AND CROCODILE-SON.  JOURNEY RESUMED AND STRANGE
TREATMENT OF THE KING OF THE WATERS.

Dawn was still struggling to assert itself in the far east and the
depths of the forest were still shrouded in almost midnight gloom, when
the strange band of outlaws emerged from their cave, and, led by
Ravonino, went forth to search for a safer dwelling-place in the still
more inaccessible fastnesses of the wilderness.

They had not much difficulty in finding a suitable spot, for the
particular region to which they had fled from persecution was
exceedingly wild and broken in form, and abounded with concealed caverns
having outlets in several directions, so that pursuit and discovery were
alike difficult.

We may not delay here, however, to tell of their wanderings.  Like the
Christians of other lands and, more ancient times, they were hunted like
wild beasts, though their only crime was a desire to serve and worship
God according to the dictates of their consciences.  It is the old
familiar story, and comment is needless to those who understand it--

  "Man's inhumanity to man
  Makes countless thousands mourn."

There is only one other member of the party of whom we will make mention
just now, because she appears again somewhat prominently in our tale.
This was a little elderly female who seemed utterly destitute of the
very common human attribute of self-assertion, and in whose amiable,
almost comical, countenance, one expression seemed to overbear and
obliterate all others, namely that of gushing good-will to man and
beast!  Those who did not know Reni-Mamba thought her an amiable
imbecile.  Those who knew her well loved her with peculiar tenderness.
Her modesty and self-abnegation were not, so far as any one knew, the
result of principle.  She was too unassertive to lay claim to principle!
We are not sure that she understood the meaning of principle.

Before Christianity in its doctrinal form reached her she had only one
source of discomfort in life, and that was, that in _everything_ she
failed!  Failed to do as much as she wanted to do for other people;
failed to express herself always as affectionately as she felt; failed
to avoid giving slight occasions of offence, although she "never,
_never_ meant to do it!"  In short she was, strange to say, a victim to
self-condemnation.  When the Gospel of Jesus came to her, telling, as it
does, that "God is Love," that Christ came to sweep away for ever the
very sins that troubled her, and that His Holy Spirit would fight for
and _in_ her, so as to make her "more than conqueror," she caught it to
her heart as the very thing she needed.

She did not indeed condemn herself less--nay, she rather condemned
herself more than formerly--but the joy of being on the winning side, of
knowing that all sin was pardoned for His sake, of feeling assured of
progressive victory now and complete victory in the end, thoroughly
scattered her old troubles to the winds.

Her very name was characteristic.  It is a common and curious custom in
Madagascar for parents sometimes to drop their own names and take the
name of their eldest child with the word _raini_, "father of," or
_reni_, "mother of," prefixed.  Now this amiable little elderly woman
had been married young, and it so happened that her husband was away on
an expedition to the coast when the first and only son was born.  One of
the first things that the child did after opening its black eyes on this
life was to open its uncommonly large mouth, with the intention, no
doubt, of howling.  But circumstances apparently induced it to change
its mind, for it shut its mouth without howling.

The effect of the gape on the mother was to remind her of one class of
inhabitants of her native rivers--the crocodile--and cause her
laughingly to style the child her "young crocodile."  The Malagasy word
for crocodile is _mamba_, and thus the child came by his name, with the
usual prefix, Ra-Mamba.  After a time his mother became so proud of her
young crocodile that she dropped her own name entirely--congenially, as
it were, obliterated herself--and ever after was known as Reni-Mamba,
"mother of the crocodile."

At the time we write of, Mamba, (we will drop the "Ra"), was a stalwart
handsome youth of over twenty, with no resemblance whatever to his
namesake except a goodly-sized mouth and an amazing strength of
appetite.

Need we say that his mother's gushing powers were expended upon him with
the force of a Norwegian mill-race?  It is gratifying to be able to add
that the crocodile was keenly responsive!

The father of little Mamba--Andrianivo--had returned to the capital soon
after his son's birth.  He was a man in good position among the
aristocracy of the land, and occupied a post of trust in the Queen's
service.  At that time the first great persecution of the Christians had
begun.  It was known that Andrianivo favoured the Christians.  On the
question being put to him, he frankly admitted that he was one of them.
He was therefore despoiled of all he possessed, and banished into
perpetual exile and slavery.  He was sent in chains to a pestilential
part of the island, with the intention that toil and disease should end
his life.  So secretly and promptly was he spirited away that no one
could tell the precise locality to which he had been banished.  His
heart-broken wife and child were also sold, but were taken to a more
healthy region, where the child grew and became a stout boy; his little
mother, meanwhile, acting the part of a meek and faithful slave.  She
would probably have lived and died in this condition had not her stout
son, when he grew up, resolved to become free.  His mother had taught
him what she knew of the Christian religion.  From Ravonino he learned
more, and heard of the escaped Christians who found a refuge in forests
and mountains.  Finally he persuaded his mother to run away with him,
and thus it came about that we find them with the band of which Ravonino
was leader--Laihova being lieutenant of the band.

An occasion for the display of his affectionate nature was afforded to
Mamba on the morning we write of.  Active as a kitten, though
middle-aged, Reni-Mamba was skipping from rock to rock in a very rugged
part of their route, when, her foot slipping, she fell and sprained her
ankle badly.

Mamba was close to her.

"Mother!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward and raising her carefully, "why
jump about like the squirrel?  Are you hurt?"

"My son, help me to rise."

Gently the youth lifted her, and set her on her feet, whereupon she sank
down again with a little shriek, and looked up with an expression of
mingled humour and pain.

"My leg, I think, is broken!" said Reni.  For the sake of brevity we
will drop the "Mamba."

"Surely not, mother; it has been too tough and strong to break ever
since I knew it."

Mamba spoke encouragingly; nevertheless, he examined the limb with
anxious care.  Being ignorant of surgery his examination was not of much
use, but, fortunately, just then Mark Breezy, who had lingered behind to
gather some plants, arrived on the scene.  He found the injury to be a
bad sprain, and did the best he could for the poor woman in the
circumstances.

"Now, we must carry her," he said to the guide, "for she won't be able
to walk for many days."

On this being translated, Mamba gathered his mother up as if she had
been a bundle of clothes, or a baby, and marched away with her.

"Stop, stop!" cried Ravonino, "you can't carry her more than a few miles
on such ground as I shall soon lead you over.  We must arrange for her a
_filanzana_."

The guide here referred to the sort of palanquin used by travellers in a
country where there were no roads.  It consisted of a shallow, oblong
basket, with light wooden framework, filled in with plaited strips of
sheepskin, and hung between two light poles or bamboos.  As several such
machines were used by some of the party to carry their few household
necessaries, one of them was at once emptied and Reni put therein by her
affectionate son.  Four stout young men put the ends of the poles on
their shoulders, and the party once more advanced, Mamba walking by the
side of the _filanzana_ to be ready to assist in cases of difficulty or
danger, and to relieve the bearers occasionally.

That afternoon they arrived at their new abode--a large, dry cavern--the
entrance to which was not only well concealed on the face of a cliff in
the heart of a dense jungle, but so difficult of access that a mere
handful of men might easily have maintained it against a host.

Here Ravonino made no further delay than was necessary to see the party
fairly settled.  Then he left them, but not before receiving many an
earnest and affectionate message to friends and kindred of the fugitives
still at the capital, but who had, as yet, managed to elude the
vigilance and escape the malignity of Queen Ranavalona and her spies.
Some of the women even wept as they bade the guide farewell, saying that
they felt sure he would at last fall a victim to the relentless fury of
the Queen, and that they should see his face no more.

With these the guide gently remonstrated.

"Think you not," he said, "that God is as able to protect me in
Antananarivo as here in the wilderness?  I go because I think that duty
calls me.  I expect no miracle in my behalf.  I will take all possible
precautions.  Farewell."

Once more our three travellers found themselves advancing rapidly in
single file through the forest, with the guide in advance.  Before the
sinking sun compelled them to encamp under the trees that night they had
put many miles between them and the hiding-place of the outlawed
Christians.

Next day, as they were about to resume their journey, Ravonino told them
that about noon they would come to a large river, on the other side of
which there was a village where they could spend the night, for the
people and their chief were friendly.

"Are they Christians?" asked Mark.

"No--at least the most of them are not, though there may be a few secret
converts among them; for this hot persecution at the capital has
scattered the Christians far and wide through the land, so that the
knowledge of the blessed Gospel spreads.  Thus our God makes the wrath
of man to praise Him.  The remainder of wrath He has promised to
restrain.  If He wills it otherwise, are we not prepared to die at His
bidding?  Many of our people have died already under the bloody reign of
Ranavalona the usurper.  How many more shall perish, who can tell?"

"But how do it come about," asked Hockins, "that this here chief is
friendly?"

"Because I had occasion to render him good service at one time, and he
is grateful."

"Good!  Das allers de right way," remarked Ebony, with an approving nod.
"W'en a man's grateful he's safe--you's sure ob 'im.  Is dat de ribber
you refur to jes' now?"

He pointed to an opening among the trees ahead, through which the sheen
of water glittering in the sunlight could be seen.

Before the guide could reply a loud shout startled them, and next moment
they were surrounded by half-naked savages, who brandished their spears
threateningly.

Quick as lightning, according to a pre-arranged plan in case of sudden
attack, Mark, Hockins, and the negro stood back-to-back, facing in all
directions--the first with his gun advanced, the seaman pointing his
cutlass at the foe, and Ebony levelling a spear with which he had
provided himself, little would their courage have availed them, however,
if Ravonino had not been there, for a flight of spears would have ended
their resistance in a moment.

"Voalavo, your chief, is my friend," said the guide, calmly, without
putting himself in an attitude of defence, or showing the slightest
symptom of alarm.  "Is Voalavo with you?"

"Voalavo comes," they replied, at once lowering their weapons and
pointing in the direction of the river, whence proceeded sounds as of
the lowing of cattle.

"We have been to visit our enemies," said one of the party, who, from
his tones and bearing, appeared to be a leader.  "We have smitten them,
and we have brought away their cattle."

As he spoke another native was seen approaching.  He was a large burly
jovial-looking man, somewhere about forty years of age, armed with a
spear and enveloped in the native _lamba_, a garment used much in the
same way as the Scottish plaid, which it resembled in form, though of
much lighter material.  The ornamentation of this garment proclaimed the
wearer a person of distinction, and the evident satisfaction that beamed
on his broad jovial countenance when he recognised and greeted Ravonino
showed that it was Voalavo himself--the chief of the village they were
approaching.

"I'm sorry to see," said the guide, after the first few words of
salutation, "that my friend still delights in war and robbery."

"Don't be sorry, friend, don't be sorry," returned the chief with a
hearty laugh, as he gave the other a slap on the shoulder.  "Sorrow does
no good.  It only puts water in the eyes and makes them red.  Look at
me--just returned from `war and robbery,' and as happy as a squirrel.
If a man does not delight in war and robbery, what is there in the world
to delight in?  If _I_ am not sorry why should _you_ be?  If you can't
help it--then laugh at it and try to enjoy your sorrow.  That's the way
_I_ do.  It suits me.  I grow fat on it!"

He certainly did grow fat--if not on laughing at sorrow, certainly on
something else--and his followers, although respectfully silent, showed
by their smiling faces that they sympathised with their chief's
hilarious mood.

"But where did you fall in with the white men?" asked Voalavo, turning
suddenly towards Mark and Hockins, who stood listening with interest and
curiosity to the rapid flow of his unintelligible talk.  "Such pale
flowers do not grow in _our_ forests!"

In a few words Ravonino explained the history of our adventurers as far
as he knew it, and the chief, on learning that they were his friend's
friends, bade them welcome, and shook hands heartily in the European
fashion--a mode of expressing friendship which had probably been learned
from the missionaries, who, after spending many years in Madagascar,
had, about the time we write of, been all banished from the island.

"Come now," cried the chief, "the rice will soon be ready--that won't
make you sorry, Ravonino, will it?--and we have yet to cross the river
with the cattle in the face of the hungry crocodiles--which won't make
_them_ sorry!  Come."

Turning impulsively, in the brusque careless manner which characterised
him, Voalavo led the way to the banks of the river--a considerable
stream--where the cattle were assembled and guarded by a band of over a
hundred warriors.

"Cattle seem to be plentiful in these parts," said Mark to the guide as
they walked along.

"They are numerous everywhere in Madagascar.  In truth a large part of
our exports to the Mauritius and elsewhere consists of cattle.--Look!
the chief was right when he said the crocodiles would not be sorry to
see the cattle crossing."

He pointed to a ripple on the water caused by the ugly snout of one of
the creatures referred to.  It seemed by the activity of its movements
to be already anticipating a feast.

"Crocodiles," continued the guide, "are numerous in many of our lakes
and rivers, and dangerous too, though they are naturally timid, and can
be easily frightened away.  I remember a curious instance of this kind
happening on the east coast, where a European trader was cleverly
imposed on--deceived, or, what you call--"

"Humbugged," suggested Hockins.

"Well, yes--humbugged!  He was a big ignorant fellow, this trader;
strong and energetic enough, but full of conceit--thought he knew almost
everything, but in reality knew next to nothing, yet self-willed and
obstinate enough to--to--You know the sort of man?"

"Yes, yes; a stoopid cockscomb," said Hockins.  "I know the breed well--
lots of 'em everywhere."

"Jus' so--a born idjit; go on, massa," said Ebony, who was always
charmed at the prospect of a story or anecdote.

"Well, this trader," continued the guide, "was on his way from
Antananarivo to the coast with cattle for exportation, and one day they
came to a place where they had to cross a narrow part of a lake.  The
natives of that place advised him not to venture without trying the
effect of their _ody_, or charms, on the crocodiles.  These they said,
and believed, would protect the cattle in crossing.  But the trader
scouted the idea, and, laughing at their superstitions, gave orders to
drive the bullocks into the water.  He quickly repented his obstinacy,
for no sooner were they in than the crocodiles seized nine of them and
dragged them down.  `Oh! bring the ody--work the ody--quick!' cried the
anxious man, fearing lest all the cattle should be seized.  The _ody_
was worked instantly, and to his astonishment, as well as the triumph of
the natives, the rest of the cattle crossed in safety.  Even those that
had been nearly drowned escaped and passed over."

"But how was dat?" asked Ebony, with a perplexed air.  "If de _ody_ was
nuffin', how could it do suffin'?"

"Simply enough," returned the guide.  "The charm consisted merely in
noise.  The natives, in canoes and on both sides of the lake, shouted
furiously and beat the water with branches of trees, so that the poor
crocodiles were scared away.  See--there is something of the same sort
going to be performed just now."

Previous to this process, however, the chief Voalavo went through a
singular ceremony to propitiate the crocodiles.  The Malagasy, like the
ancient Egyptians, regard the crocodile with superstitious veneration.
They esteem him the king of the waters, and to dispute his right to
reign would, they believe, expose them to his vengeance.  Hence they
seldom kill crocodiles, and rather avoid whatever is likely to provoke
them.  It is their custom, also, sometimes to make solemn speeches and
vows to the crocodiles when about to cross rivers.

Voalavo, who was unusually reckless, free-and-easy, and regardless in
ordinary affairs, was nevertheless remarkably superstitious.  Before
giving orders to cross the river, therefore, he advanced to the water's
edge and mumbled incantations or made vows in a low tone for nearly
half-an-hour.  Then, elevating his voice, so as to be heard across the
river, he continued, addressing the crocodiles:--

"Now, I pray you, good mamba, to do me no injury, and particularly to
spare my cattle, for you do not know what trouble I have had to get
them.  No doubt you know how anxious I and my people are to eat them,
for you have much of the same desire; but I beseech you to exercise
self-denial.  You don't know how pleasant that will make you feel!
Remember that I have never done your royal race any injury--never waged
war with you or killed you.  On the contrary I have always held you in
the highest veneration.  If you do not remember this, but forget it, I
and my whole race and all my relatives will declare war and fight
against you for ever more!  So be good and do what I tell you!"

"Now, my men," he cried, turning round, "drive in the cattle, work the
_ody_, and make all the dogs bark!"

In the midst of an indescribable hubbub the herds were then driven into
the river, and the men--some in canoes and some on both banks--enacted
the very scene which Ravonino had described.  In a few minutes the whole
herd was got over in safety.

Half-an-hour later and our travellers were seated in the chief's house
regaling themselves with beef-steaks and marrow-bones, chickens and
rice.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

A FRIEND APPEARS UNEXPECTEDLY, AND OUR TRAVELLERS SPEND A DISTURBED
NIGHT.

Whatever ethereal persons may say to the contrary, there can be no doubt
whatever that the consumption of food is an intellectual treat, inasmuch
as it sets the body free from the cravings of appetite, and by
stimulating those nervous influences which convey vigour and vitality to
the brain, not only becomes the direct cause of physical gratification,
but induces that state of mind which is most favourable to the
development of the interesting creations of fancy and the brilliant
coruscations of imagination.

We might pursue this subject further did time and space permit; but our
objection to "skipping" is so great, that we shrink from giving the
reader even a shadow of excuse for doing so.  Moreover we dread the
assault of the hypercritical reader, who will infallibly object that it
is not "the consumption of food," but the resulting mental effect which
is the "intellectual treat."  As if we did not know that!  "But," we
would retort with scorn, "can any cause be separated from its effect
without bringing about, so to speak, the condition of nonentity?"

Passing to the subject which gave rise to these erratic thoughts, we
have to relate that the whole party, entertainers and entertained, did
ample justice to the rice, beef, chicken and marrow-bones, after which
Hockins wafted the natives to the seventh heaven of delight and wonder
by means of his flageolet.  It was very late that night before they
retired to rest.  It was later still before they went to sleep.

The native village at which our travellers had arrived was a rude,
poor-looking place, inhabited by a brave and war-like tribe, who
depended more for defence on their personal prowess and the difficulties
presented by their forests, than upon ditches or ramparts.  The village
was, however, surrounded by a fence of trees growing so close together
that it would have been almost impossible to carry the place by assault
if resolutely defended from within.

The huts were roughly constructed of bamboos plastered with clay and
lined with matting,--also with the large leaves of the "traveller's
tree," and thatched with rushes.

The chief's hut, in which the white guests were feasted, was of course
larger and somewhat better in construction than the others.  Its floor,
composed of hard-beaten clay, was covered with matting, clean pieces of
which were spread for the visitors to squat upon, for there were no
chairs, stools, or tables.  In the north-west corner was the hearth--a
square of between two and three feet, with a few large stones for
supporting the cooking utensils, but without chimney of any kind.  Smoke
was allowed to find an exit as it best could by crevices in the roof and
by a small window or hole in the north gable.  A few cooking-pots,
earthen jars, rice-baskets, some knives, a wooden chest, and several
spears, completed the furniture.

Against the northern roof-post hung a small bottle-shaped basket, which
contained the household _sampey_, or god, or charm.  In Madagascar this
usually consists of a meaningless stone; sometimes a chip of wood, the
leaf of a tree, or a flower, and this is what the natives pray to and
profess to trust in!

Our travellers found, after supper was over, that they were not to sleep
in the chief's house, for they were led to that of a head-man of the
village, and told they were to rest with him.  This man was old, and
seemed to have no wife or family, for the only person at home at the
time, besides himself, was an old woman, perhaps his sister, who looked
after the household.  He was a hospitable old man, however, and made
them heartily welcome to their beds of matting in the north end of the
hut.  Unfortunately the south end of it was usually occupied by pigs and
poultry.  These were expelled for the occasion, but they insisted
several times on returning to their own abode, being unable, apparently,
to believe that their expulsion was really intended!  As there were
several openings in the hut, the difficulty of excluding the animals was
great, for when expelled at one hole, amid remonstrative shrieks and
screams, they quickly re-entered at another with defiant grunts and
cacklings.

By stopping up the holes, however, the enemy was finally overcome.  Then
the old man, having retired to his corner, and the sister having
departed, Mark Breezy, John Hockins, James Ginger, and Ravonino drew
round the fire, heaped-on fresh logs, lay down at full length on their
mats, and prepared to enjoy that sleepy chat which not unfrequently
precedes, sometimes even postpones, repose.

"That was a curious speech that Voalavo made to the crocodile,
Ravonino," said Mark.  "Do you really think he believed it did any
good?"

"Yes, truly, he believed it.  This is a land of charms and superstition.
Voalavo is of too honest and straightforward a nature to practise what
he does not believe in."

"Does _you_ b'lieve in charms an' soopistition?" asked Ebony, with
expectant eyes.

"What need to ax that, you stoopid nigger?" said Hockins; "don't you
know he's a Christian?"

"Das true, 'Ockins.  I hoed an' forgot."

"But tell me, Ravonino, are de crokindiles awrful rampageous when dey're
roused?"

"Yes, they are pretty bad," said the guide, clearing his throat, for he
was fond of expatiating on the wonders and beauties of his native land!
"And although they look sluggish enough when sprawling on mud-banks,
half-asleep in the sun, you would be surprised to see them go after
fish, which is their principal food.  Their favourite haunts are the
deep rugged banks of a river or lake overhung with trees, where they can
hide themselves and watch for prey.  It is not only in water that they
are dangerous.  They fasten their teeth, if they get the chance, on any
animal that comes to the river to drink.  They sometimes get hold of
bullocks when drinking, and often do so when the cattle are swimming
across.  They are unnaturally ferocious, too, for they will devour their
own young."

"Oh! de brutes!" exclaimed Ebony, poking the fire with a bit of stick
savagely.  "Don't de mudders fight for de young uns?"

"Not they.  The mothers lay their eggs in the sand and leave them to
look after themselves.  The others are sly, and--"

"Dat's de fadders, brudders, an' unkles ob de eggs, you mean?"

"Yes, that's what I mean.  The old he-crocodiles watch where the eggs
are laid, an' when it's about time for them to break an' let the young
ones out, these monsters go into the water at the edge and wait.  When
the baby-crocodiles get out of prison they make straight for the water,
where the old villains are ready to receive an' devour them.  Some times
the young ones are stupid when they are born, they take the wrong road
and escape their relations' teeth only to get to the rice-grounds and
fall into the hands of the natives.  Many of the eggs, too, are
destroyed, before they are hatched, by vultures and other birds, as well
as by serpents.  Men also gather them by hundreds, boil them and dry
them in the sun to preserve them for use or sale."

"The miserable young things seem to have a poor chance of life then,"
said Mark, sleepily.

"Das so, massa.  I'd rader be a nigger dan a crokindile."

Hockins said nothing, being sound asleep.

"What makes that rattling among the cooking-pots?" asked Mark, looking
round lazily.

"Rats," replied the guide.  "Didn't you see them running along the roof
when you came in?"

"No, I didn't."

"Look up now, then, and you'll see them on the beams."

Mark and Ebony both looked up, and beheld a row of rats on the beam
overhead--their bead-like eyes glittering as they gazed over one side of
the beam, and their long tails just showing on the other.

"Das funny," said the negro, who was in sympathy with the whole brute
creation!

Mark thought it very much the reverse of funny, but held his peace.

"Dar's a ole grey un, massa, right ober 'Ockins's head--a tremenjous big
'un.  Don't you see 'im wid a griggy young un beside 'im?"

Whether the griggy young one was also larky we cannot tell, but while
the negro was speaking it executed a flourish (whether intentional or
otherwise who can say?) which knocked the big grey rat off the beam, and
caused it to fall with a heavy flop on Hockins's face.  Three others
fell off in their anxiety to observe the result.

Hockins leapt up with an indignant roar, and the rats leaped among the
pots and pans with a horrified squeak, while Ebony and the others looked
on with excruciating enjoyment.

The scurrying of many little feet among the household implements told
that the grey rat's friends were numerous though unseen, and the angry
grunting of pigs proved that other slumbers had been broken.  Of course
the whole party were thoroughly awakened by this incident, but they took
it good-humouredly, and, after replenishing the fire, lay down again,
and resolutely shut their eyes and ears.

Slumber was once more stealing over them, when a noise at the door of
the hut awakened them.  Next moment they started up, for two warriors of
the tribe entered with a prisoner between them.

"We caught this man entering our village," said one of the warriors,
fiercely, to the guide; "we would have taken him to our chief, but he
says that you are his friend--yet I think he lies."

"He speaks the truth," returned Ravonino, calmly.  "He is my friend.
Doubtless he has good reasons for coming here.  Leave him with us, we
will guard him till morning."

The warriors at once released their prisoner and retired, while the man
stepping forward into clearer light revealed the handsome countenance of
Laihova.

"Sit down, my brother," said Ravonino to the youth, in tones of unusual
tenderness, "and let me know what brings you here so unexpectedly."

"I come to offer my service," replied the youth, with a modest air.
"You have told me that you go to Antananarivo to rescue Rafaravavy.
Your face is known to every one in the town.  If you enter it, your
death will be certain."

"But I do not intend to enter it," said Ravonino; "these my white
friends will aid me."

"The white men may be wise and brave, but they know not how to aid you,
I am not so well-known in the town.  I will venture into it, and will
show them where to go and what to do."

The guide shook his head and was silent for some moments.  He seemed
uncertain how to act.

"What says Laihova?" asked Mark Breezy at this point, for the
conversation having been conducted in the native tongue they as yet
understood nothing.

The guide briefly explained, and then turned to the young man.

"But how can you think of leaving your friends in the cave, Laihova?
They may require your strong arm; and my sister is--"

"It was my friends who advised me to leave them," said the youth,
quickly, "and Ra-Ruth bade me go.  Besides, have we not entered into the
Covenant of Blood?"

"Well, you may come with us.  After all, Ra-Ruth is right."

"What does he mean by the Covenant of Blood?" asked Mark when the guide
explained what had just been said.

"It means that he and I are united by one of the closest ties that bind
the men of this island.  No doubt you will think it a strange alliance,
nevertheless it is a true and a strong bond of brotherhood.  It is meant
to unite two people in sacred friendship, so that ever afterwards they
feel bound to help and defend each other.  When two persons agree to
form this bond, a meeting is arranged for the performance of the
ceremony and taking the vow.  Some gunpowder and a ball are brought,
with a little ginger, a spear, and two particular kinds of grass.  A
fowl is also used.  Its head is nearly cut off, and it is left to bleed
during the ceremony.  Then a long vow of mutual friendship, assistance,
and defence is pronounced.  After this each man drinks a few drops of
the other's blood.  To obtain it they make a small cut in the skin of
the centre of the bosom, which they call `the mouth of the heart.'"

"And did you go through this ceremony with Laihova?" asked Mark.

"I did, many years ago, when we were little more than boys.  He saved my
life by jumping into a deep pool in a lake and rescuing me from the
crocodiles.  I had fallen in off the steep bank.  I could not swim, and
he could.  After that we made the alliance of brotherhood.  Laihova was
not a Christian at that time.  Since then God has made use of me to
rescue him from a more awful death than that which threatened me.
Laihova is grateful, and, knowing that I run much risk in going near the
capital, has come, as you see, to help me."

"Not a bad style of brotherhood that," said Hockins, with a tremendous
yawn.  "Eh, Ebony?  What d'ee think of you an' me goin' in for the same
sort o' thing?"

"P'r'aps," answered Ebony, with a responsive yawn which threw that of
Hockins quite into the shade, "p'r'aps black blood mightn't agree wid
your stummick.  But I say, Massa Breezy, don' you tink it a'most time we
was goin' to sleep?"

As the night was far spent--or, rather, the morning far advanced--by
that time, the whole party willingly assented.  Laihova was supplied
with a separate mat, the embers of the wood-fire were drawn together,
and they all lay down once more, to make the most of what remained of
the period of repose.  But circumstances were against them.

True, being tired and healthy men, they dropped off at once with the
facility of infants, and during a quarter of an hour or so, while the
fire continued to emit an occasional flicker, all went well; but when
the last vestige of flame died away, the rats again came out with
bead-like eyes and cautious tread.  Gradually they became bolder.
Impunity never fails to encourage presumption.  In short they soon began
to hold a sort of carnival.  The pots and pans became, as it were,
musical, to the evident distress of the slumbering seaman--especially
when the large grey rat fairly overturned a small rice-jar, which in its
fall removed several props from other utensils and caused a serious
clatter.  Still the wearied men slept through it all, until the enemy
took to scampering over their bodies.  Then the enraged Ebony, being
partially awakened, made a fierce grasp at one of the foe, and caught
Hockins by the ear.  Of course the result was a howl, and a sleepy
request from Mark, to "Stop that noise!"

But even that incident failed to arouse them thoroughly, though it
filled the rats with temporary horror, and caused them to flee.

The last word reminds us that there were others there that night,
besides rats, to disturb the sleepers' dreams--but we merely make a
suggestive hint at that!

Soon the rats returned in greater force and more demonstrative hilarity
than ever.  They evidently went in for a game of hide-and-seek round and
over the slumberers, causing the sleepy growls of John Hockins to
resemble the fitful mutterings of distant thunder.

Thus they went on until the grey dawn of morning appeared.  Then an
extremely large cock, in the south-east corner of the hut, feeling that
it had enjoyed a sufficiently good night's rest, flapped its ungainly
wings, stretched out its neck, and gave vent to a clarion-crow which--

"Brute!" exclaimed Hockins, not even giving us time to finish the
sentence!

He said no other word, but seizing a piece of wood, sent it forth with
such true and effective aim, that he cleared not only the cock, but all
his wives off their perch, and sent them in cackling consternation out
of the hut by the nearest hole in the wall.

After that the much-tried party slumbered in peace until the sun was
high.



CHAPTER NINE.

A JOVIAL CHIEF, AND NEW EXPERIENCES OF VARIOUS KINDS.

The friendly hospitality of the chief of this village was found to be
likely to cause delay, for he would not hear of his visitors departing
until they had been feasted and entertained with games and hunting.

As they were completely in his power there was nothing for it but to
submit with the best grace possible, although Ravonino was naturally
anxious to push on.

"You see it won't do to look as if we were indifferent to his
hospitality," said the guide.  "He would be greatly offended, for you
must know that the Malagasy pride themselves on their hospitality.
Come, we will go and have a look at the neighbouring woods while they
are preparing breakfast for us, and I will tell you a story about the
late King Radama."

"Was that the good king you told us about who did so much for the
missionaries, though he wasn't a Christian himself?" asked Hockins, as
they all passed through the enclosure of the village and entered the
woods.

"Yes, the same," replied the guide, "though whether he was a Christian
or not I cannot tell.  I judge no man.  He made no profession of
Christianity, but he was kind to the missionaries--very different from
Ranavalona."

"Das de oosurper, what you call 'er?" said Ebony.

"Just so," returned the guide.  "Well, as I was saying, our people are
very hospitable.  Everywhere, almost, throughout the country, when a
traveller enters a village, a present is usually brought to him of rice,
poultry, or fruit, or whatever they have on hand.  You'll find out that
for yourselves as you go along--"

"A bery proper state ob tings," remarked Ebony.

"And whatever house you come to," continued Ravonino, "the owner will
invite you politely to enter, and make you welcome.  Of course there are
greedy and surly people here and there, but these are an exception to
the rule.  Well, on one occasion King Radama heard of some people of
that sort.  You must know that our chiefs have always required that they
should be entertained on the best the people could provide.  It is an
old custom.  Well, Radama made a law that all the provisions and other
kinds of property should belong to the people, but all the houses in the
country should belong to the sovereign; and he ordered the inhabitants
to furnish lodgings to his servants and soldiers wherever they went.  In
order to make sure that his orders were obeyed the King soon after went
in disguise to a village some distance off, and towards evening entered
a peasant's house and asked to be taken in for the night.

"The heads of the family did not refuse, but rendered their hospitality
in such a way as showed that he was not welcome.  Next day he went to
another house.  There he was kindly welcomed, civilly treated, and the
best they had in the house was set before him.  In the morning when
taking leave he made himself known, no less to the surprise than
consternation of the family, and he left, assuring them that their
hospitality should not be forgotten.  The King kept his word, for he
afterwards sent his officers to the village with a stern reproof to his
first entertainer and a handsome present to the other."

Just as the guide finished his anecdote a resplendent butterfly of
enormous size rose from the bushes, and Mark, to whom it was quite a new
specimen, bounded after it, but failed to effect a capture.

"Neber mind, massa," said the sympathetic Ebony, "you'll hab better luck
nex' time--p'r'aps!"

"Besides," added the guide, "there are plenty more where that came from,
for we have got into a good region for insects."

"Seems to me," said Hockins, "it's a good region for everything.  Look
at that now,"--he pointed to an object in front of him.  "I would say
that was a spider if it warn't as big as a bird, and hadn't set up a
fishin'-net for a web!"

Although not strictly correct, the seaman's description had a foundation
in truth, for some of the spiders of Madagascar are enormous, and their
webs so thick that it requires a considerable effort to break them.
Moreover they are said to be poisonous, and the bite of some even
deadly.

The contemplation of those creatures, however, had to be cut short at
that time, as they did not dare to risk keeping Voalavo waiting
breakfast for them.

"We are going to stick pigs and hunt wild cattle," said the jovial
chief, with his mouth full of chicken and rice, when they arrived.  "We
will show the white men some fun."

On this being translated Ebony hoped that the black man was included in
the white, and Mark asked if the hunting-ground was far-off.

"A long way," said the chief, "we shan't reach it till night.  But
that's no matter, for night is our time to hunt."

He said this with a twinkle in his eye, for he saw well enough that his
guests were impatient to be gone.

"But," continued he, on observing that they did not seem cheered by the
prospect, "our road to the hunting-plain lies on your way to
Antananarivo, so you won't lose time."

As he spoke he opened a small box containing a brown sort of dust, of
which he put as much as he possibly could between the teeth of his lower
jaw and the lip.

"What in all the world is he doin'?" asked Hockins of the guide in a low
tone.

"He is taking snuff."

"I always s'posed," remarked Ebony, "dat snuff was tooken by de nose!"

"So it is, they tell me, in England; but we have a different fashion
here, as you see, and quite as foolish."

"You don't mean that it's tobacco he treats in that way?" exclaimed
Mark.

"Not pure tobacco, but tobacco mixed with other things--something like
the cheap cigars which you English are said to smoke!" replied Ravonino
with something of a humorous twinkle in his eyes.  "But we don't smoke.
We only snuff.  In making our snuff we first dry the tobacco leaves and
grind them to powder.  Then to this we add the ashes of the leaves of a
sweet-smelling herb, the mixture being twice as much tobacco as ashes; a
small quantity of potash or salt is added, and then it is considered fit
for use."

"Don't your people smoke at all?" asked Hockins.

"Not much, and never tobacco--except those on the coast who have been
corrupted by Europeans.  Some of us used to smoke _rongona_, a kind of
hemp.  It is a powerful stimulant, and used to be taken by warriors
before going out to battle, because it drove them nearly mad, and so
fitted them for their bloody work.  Government has lately forbidden its
use--but it is still used in secret."

"They've got baccy, an' don't smoke!" murmured Hockins to himself in a
kind of meditative surprise, as though he had just been told that the
natives possessed food and did not eat.

"But _you_ don't smoke?" remarked the guide.

"That's 'cause I hain't got baccy nor pipe.  You give me pipe and baccy
an' I'll smoke you into fits in no time."

"Do you feel the want of it much?"

"Not much.  At first I did, most awful, but now I'm gettin' over it."

The guide was silent.  He might have remarked, "Yet now, if you had the
chance, you would enslave yourself _again_!" but, not being of an
argumentative turn of mind, he merely shook his head and changed the
subject.  It was well, for Hockins was one of those people who, "if
convinced against their will, remain of the same opinion still."

After breakfast, while the young men of the tribe armed themselves and
made preparation for the expedition, Ravonino took his friends through
the village, the inhabitants of which were evidently as deeply
interested in seeing the white men as the latter were in seeing the
brown; for each were objects of curiosity to the other.

During the stroll our friends saw the weaving of the _lamba_--the large
plaid-like garment of hempen cloth worn extensively in the island.  The
looms were rude and simple, but the fabrics produced were wonderfully
good in appearance and texture, some being made of a kind of coarse
silk.  Many of them were ornamented, and rendered very heavy with
immense quantities of small leaden beads fastened to the garment either
in straight or curved rows, the lead having been procured from traders
at the coast, and the beads having been manufactured by themselves.
These natives wore but little clothing--merely a cloth round the loins,
and sometimes a jacket made of coarse material.  The _lamba_ is usually
worn over the shoulders in the cool of the morning, but at the time we
write of most of the men who used the garment, had bound it tightly
round their waists.

Our travellers were made acquainted at this time with a game which
interested them greatly--especially arousing the enthusiasm of the
negro.  It was a kicking game, played by some of the more active among
the young men, who, having got ready for the field quickly, were waiting
for their slower companions.  The chief peculiarity of the game
consisted in the mode of kicking, namely backwards, in the horse or
donkey fashion.  The guide explained that the name of the game, when
literally translated, was, "striking blue with the sole of the foot!"
It is a desperate game, and when played, as it frequently is, by
hundreds of active and powerful young men, the results are sometimes
sprained ankles, broken legs, etcetera.

"Oh! das de game for me!" cried the enthusiastic Ebony, who could hardly
be restrained from joining.  "De sole ob my foot's awrful broad, an' I
could strike black as well as blue.  Do let me try, massa!"

Fortunately, perhaps, for our negro, the chief came out of his hut at
that moment and gave the signal for the hunters to advance, thus
bringing the game and Ebony's aspirations to an abrupt end.  The young
men at once fell to the rear, and the whole party sallied forth into the
forest.

It was magnificent weather, with just cloud enough to prevent the sun
being overpoweringly hot, and the tract of country over which they
passed was surpassingly beautiful.  To Mark Breezy it seemed as if all
the winged insects in the island had come forth to welcome him.  There
were butterflies of various sizes and brilliant colours flitting to and
fro among the wild-flowers, besides dragon-flies, grasshoppers of
exquisite beauty, spiders with coats of gold and silver, caterpillars
half-a-foot long in gorgeous array of black, scarlet, and yellow, and
many other creatures which we may not pause to describe here, though
Mark and the guide frequently paused to look at them, insomuch that they
were often left a considerable way behind.  One of the butterflies which
Mark caught at that time was very beautiful, and a slow flier.  It
actually measured eight inches across the extended wings.

Of larger animals they saw none; and it may be as well to remark here
that there are no large carnivora in Madagascar--no lions, tigers,
leopards panthers, or creatures of that sort--nothing larger than a
wild-cat and a wolf being known.  Neither are there elephants, giraffes,
rhinoceroses, hippopotami, antelope, nor deer; the only large animals
being two species of ox, and the wild-boar, goats and sheep, and
crocodiles.  There are also huge bats, an animal of the monkey tribe
called the lemur, hedgehogs, and rabbits.

The lemurs are very pretty little things, and, being gentle affectionate
creatures, are sometimes tamed and kept as pets.

The scenery, we have said, was beautiful.  At one turn of the road in
particular a landscape of such beauty appeared suddenly before them that
Mark was arrested as if spell-bound; it was such a gorgeous combination
of luxuriant foliage--ferns and palms and bamboos, interlaced with
creepers, and enlivened by streams which brawled and tumbled in
picturesque cascades, over which hundreds of butterflies sported in the
sunshine.  From the height of land on which they stood a wide,
well-watered plain was seen to extend far below them.  It was hemmed in
on either side by wooded hills and backed by the interior highlands.
Far down the hill-side their companions could be seen wending their way
through the tangled shrubbery, just in rear of the native hunters, led
by their energetic chief Voalavo.  As the men carried spears, the points
of which glittered in the sun, the party had quite a martial aspect.

To our young student the whole scene was enchanting.  It had the effect
of subduing and solemnising his feelings in a way which he had never
before experienced.  The earnest, religious cast of his companion's
spirit also tended not a little to deepen this feeling and induce him
for the first time in his life to understand that "nature's God" was in
very truth present with him.

"Is not the hand of the Master here?" said Ravonino, after a long
silence.

"Truly, my friend, it is," replied the young man, "and your remark puts
me to shame.  For many a time, through the microscope and the human
frame and the surrounding world, might I have seen this Master-hand
everywhere--if my eyes had been open."

The guide turned on Mark an earnest, inquiring look.

"Friend," he said, impressively, "if this be so, you are now very
specially awakened to the Truth.  If you have passed through and seen so
much without recognising God in his creatures, you have been brought for
the first time to know yourself.  Turn now--now--to the Saviour, and you
will henceforth see a glory in all things that you never saw before.
Turn, my friend--for `now is the accepted time.'"

Ravonino spoke with such an earnest look and tone that the youth could
not doubt the sincerity of his belief in the Saviour whom he so
affectionately held up to his view.

"Ravonino, I believe you are right.  God help me to turn!"

"He _has_ helped you already," said the guide.  "That prayer, _if true_,
never yet came from an unrenewed heart."

As he spoke a shout from those further down the hill-side stopped the
conversation and obliged the friends to resume the descent.

"That is the plain, I am told," said Ravonino, "where they expect to
find wild cattle, and where we shall have to encamp, no doubt, till
night enables us to hunt."

"Not a very cheerful time to go sporting," said Mark.

"They do not count it sport," remarked his comrade, gravely.  "They are
short of meat, and hunt for food."

A few minutes later and the party was encamped in the thick woods that
bordered the plain.



CHAPTER TEN.

TELLS OF A GRAND HUNT AND OTHER THINGS.

While the party of hunters awaited the approach of night, (for the wild
cattle feed chiefly at night), they kept as quiet as possible.  The
scouts had brought news that a large herd was feeding on a part of the
plain which was not far distant, although concealed from view by the
formation of the land.

Still thinking of the recent conversation which he had had with the
guide, Mark Breezy retired a little from the rest of the party and flung
himself on the ground under a tree to rest and meditate.

He was not left long, however, in solitude, for Hockins and Ebony soon
discovered his retreat.  Each of these worthies was armed with a spear.

"Hallo, Doctor," exclaimed the former, as he came up, "are you not
supplied with a weapon?"

"Yes, I am," replied Mark, pointing to a native spear which lay at his
side, "but I think I won't use it."

"Why not, massa?" asked Ebony.

"Because I don't yet know how to go about this style of hunting, and if
I were to attempt anything I might spoil the sport.  I intend merely to
look on."

"Right you are, sir," remarked the sailor.  "P'r'aps it'll be as well
for all of us to keep in the background."

"Pooh!" ejaculated Ebony, turning up his nose--a needless action, as it
was well-turned up already--"pooh!  I not keep in de background!  You're
all wrong.  W'en you knows nuffin, jest you wait till you knows
suffin'--ebber so little--an' den go at 'im."

"That's just what I said I should do, Ebony.  I will merely look on at
first."

"But how long does you prepose to look on, massa?  Ain't five or six
minits enuff?  Dis is what I's a-gwine to do.  I'll foller close on de
chief--what you call 'im?--Vollyvo--an' w'en I sees him stick one hox,
das nuff for me.  I den go at 'im on my own hook, an' stick away right
an' left!"

"I'll give you a wide berth, then, for it's as like as not that you'll
stick some o' the hunters in the dark," said Hockins, rising, for just
then there was a stir in the camp as if preparation was being made to go
out.

A few minutes later and Laihova came to them with the news that he had
heard the chief say they were getting ready, as it was necessary to make
a long round through the woods to get well to leeward of the cattle.

This process of getting ready consisted in every man stripping and
washing himself all over in order to get rid of the smell of the smoke
of their huts.  Even the guests were obliged to conform to the custom.
Then they set off in profound silence, every man being armed with a
couple of spears, excepting the guests, who were allowed only one spear
each, it being feared that if they carried two they might chance to
rattle them together and thus alarm the game, for the kind of cattle
they were about to attack are exceedingly active and suspicious--always
on the alert, continually snuffing and snorting at the bare idea, as it
were, of an approaching enemy.  Unlike the tame cattle of the island,
these animals have no hump, but strongly resemble the ordinary cattle of
England, save that their horns are shorter and their bellowings deeper.
They are, however, very savage, and when wounded or annoyed are apt to
attack their enemies with terrible ferocity.

To Mark Breezy and his companions the expedition proved to be full of
excitement, for, apart from the novelty of the situation, and
uncertainty as to what lay before them or was expected of them, the
extreme darkness of the night, and the quick silent stealthy motion of
the almost invisible hunters, filled their minds with--if we may say
so--awfully pleasurable anticipations!

The whole band followed their chief in single file, and as he was
intimately familiar with the topography of the region, the only anxiety
of each man was to tread carefully in his footsteps.

As for Ebony, his whole soul and spirit were in the enterprise, as well
as his black body, and the varying expression of his mobile features
would have charmed the heart of a physiognomist, had such a man been
there with light enough to enable him to see.  As there was no
physiognomist, and no light, the reader must fall back on imagination.

Intent on carrying out his pre-arranged plans, our negro walked close
behind the chief--so close indeed, that he inadvertently brought his
spear down rather heavily on the left shoulder of that fiery person, for
which he received a buffet on the ear, and an order to keep further
back.  In other circumstances the plucky spirit of Ebony would have been
roused to indignation--perhaps to retaliation; but a sense of justice
was strong in that negro's breast.  Overwhelmed with shame at his
clumsiness, and eager to rectify the error--yet not daring to speak, for
silence had been strictly enjoined--he raised the spear over his
shoulder and turned the point backwards, thereby bringing it down on the
head of the man in the rear.

Doubly shocked at this, he raised his weapon to the perpendicular, and
knocked some tropical bird violently off the lower branches of a tree.
It fluttered screeching to the ground, and bounced angrily into the
bushes.

The whole band of hunters came to a sudden and breathless halt, but no
word was uttered.  In a few moments the chief resumed his silent march,
and the ghostly column moved on--Ebony, greatly subdued but by no means
crushed, keeping his weapon at such a slope as would prevent its doing
damage to birds above or men below.

Thus they proceeded for nearly an hour, at the end of which time they
could hear the wild cattle roaring and bellowing not far-off.

When the hunters had got completely to leeward, and were beginning to
draw quite near to the feeding-ground, they advanced with increased
caution, and some of the men began to pull the tops of the grass with
their hands, as they went, in order to mimic as nearly as possible the
noise made by an ox grazing.

The instant this sound reached the ears of the cattle they became
absolutely silent, neither bellowing nor feeding!  It was evident that
they were listening with the utmost attention.  Understanding this, the
hunters stood quite still, without a whisper, but a few of those who
were adepts at the art continued their imitation of cropping the grass.
After listening for a time the animals appeared to arrive at the
conclusion that it was a false alarm, for they re-commenced feeding, and
the hunters continued their stealthy approach.

Soon they came to the thinly scattered shrubbery which marked the
termination of the woods and the beginning of the plain.  And now,
profoundly dark though the night was, they could faintly perceive the
forms of their game looming black against the dark sky beyond--
themselves being quite invisible, however, owing to their background of
forest.

Nearer and nearer the men moved, still cropping the grass as they
advanced, until they fairly got up to the herd, and were less liable to
disturb them, for, being almost invisible, they were, no doubt, mistaken
for members of the family!

As the hunters now scattered, Ebony had some difficulty in keeping close
enough to the chief to observe his movements.  Voalavo himself was too
intent upon his work to think of anything else, or to care who was near
him.

Gradually he approached close enough to an animal to thrust his spear
deep into its side.  It sprang from the ground and made a noise as if
hurt by the horn of a comrade, but this is so common an event that the
rest of the cattle were in no way disturbed by it.

The chief saw by the staggering of the animal that it was mortally
wounded, and that there was no need to follow it up, as it could be
easily tracked and found in daylight.  He therefore turned to attack
another animal that was close at hand.

"Now den," said Ebony to himself mentally, "your time's come.  Go at
'im!"

Lowering his weapon to the charge, he glanced round and observed the
indistinct form of an animal on his right.  It was apparently a little
one.

"Weal is as good as beef," thought Ebony, as he made a silent but
furious rush, scarcely able to restrain a shout of anticipated victory.

The spear-point missed the animal, just grazing its back, and went deep
into the ground, while the negro plunged with crushing violence on the
back of John Hockins, who had been trying to approach his game _a la_
Red Indian!

To say that poor Ebony was filled with horror, as well as shame and
self-abhorrence, is but a feeble statement.

"Don't speak, you black monster!" whispered the seaman in his ear, as he
seized him by the throat.

The rush of apology which had sprung from Ebony's heart was checked
abruptly at the lips.

Hockins released him, picked up his spear, and resumed his creeping way.
By this time several of the hunters had dealt silent death around them,
but still the herd failed to take alarm!

Being left alone Ebony's courage returned, and with it his enthusiasm.

"Come," he muttered, mentally, as he drew the spear from the ground,
"'Ockins not killed yet.  Das one good job.  No use to cry for not'ing.
You try again, Ginjah.  Better luck nixt time."

Greatly encouraged by these thoughts he advanced on tip-toe--spear at
the charge--eyes glancing sharply all round.  Suddenly a tall form
seemed to rise up right in front of him.  The negro's heart leaped
violently.  He was on the point of charging when a doubt assailed him.
The creature before him, though scarce distinguishable from the
surrounding gloom, was not long-bodied like an ox.  He could perceive
that clearly.  It was tall like a man--very tall.  Perhaps it was Mark
Breezy?  The recent mistake made him think anything possible!

"Is dat you, massa?" he whispered, in anxious alarm.

A furious bellow was the reply, followed by a still more furious charge.
Ebony had forgotten that an ox "end on" and head up is tall and not
long!

Happily, in stepping back he tripped, and the animal went right over
him.  But the alarm had been given, and a sudden thundering of feet told
that the entire herd had taken to flight, while the shouting and cries
of the hunters, added to the confused roaring, showed that there was now
no need for concealment.

When the muster-roll was called it was found that nobody was missing or
hurt, though several had to tell of narrow escapes, especially John
Hockins, whose account of Ebony's exploit formed, at the feast that
followed, subject of interesting converse and much comment during the
brief intervals of relaxation between beef-steaks and marrow-bones.

Daylight revealed the fact that somewhere between thirty and forty
animals had been killed outright, besides a dozen or so which, having
been fatally wounded, were afterwards followed up and some of them
secured.

But daylight also brought a large party of men from a distant village
with a pressing invitation to Voalavo and his men to pay them a visit,
and a possibly disinterested offer to assist him in the consumption of
the cattle which he had slain; for it chanced that several young men of
this village were encamped in the woods that night near the spot where
the hunters attacked the cattle.  Knowing full well what was being done,
these youths hurried home to tell what was going on.  The head-man of
the village was on good terms with Voalavo at the time, besides being a
distant relative.  Hence the message and the invitation.

As our happy-go-lucky chief was out in what may be termed a larky state
of mind, and had nothing particular to do, he accepted the invitation.
The meat was slung to bamboo poles, hoisted on the shoulders of his men,
and away they went over the plains to pay this visit.  Happily the
village lay on the way to the capital, so that the guide and his party
could still accompany them without losing ground.

The plain over which they passed was a very wide one, seeming to extend
to the very base of the distant mountains of the interior, but our
travellers were mistaken in their ideas about it.  The plain was itself
part of the mountain region into which they had already advanced, but by
so gradual an ascent that they had scarcely perceived the rise in the
land--a deception which was increased somewhat by the frequent descents
they had to make when passing over ridges.

On the way Hockins pushed up alongside of Ravonino, who was walking
beside Mark.

"Ravvy," said the seaman, (for to this had he at last curtailed the
guide's name), "where do these fellows fall in wi' the iron to make
their spearheads and other things?"

"In the earth," answered the guide.

"What!  D'ee mean to say that you manufacture your own iron in them
parts?"

"Of course we do.  Think you that no people can work in iron except the
British?  We have plenty iron ore of good quality in the island.  One of
our mountains is so full of ore that we call it the iron mountain.  It
is named in our language the mountain of Ambohimiangavo."

"An' how d'ee work the ore o' this Am-Ambo-bo-bominable-avo mountain?"
asked the sailor.

"We smelt it, of course.  We break the lumps of ore into smallish bits
and spread them on charcoal, layer and layer about, in a hollow in the
ground.  This is covered over with a top-dressing of stone and clay.
Then we set it on fire and keep the blast going with wooden bellows,
till the metal is melted and runs in a mass to the bottom of the hole.
This we break into smaller pieces, purify them with more fire, and run
them into bars convenient for use.  Our bellows," continued the guide,
"are not like yours, with two boards and leather between.  The rats
would soon make short work with these.  They are two cylinders formed
from the trunk of a tree, with a piston in each, packed with coarse
cloth, and having valves.  An old musket-barrel carries the air to the
furnace, and, by pumping them time about, the blow is kept going
continuously."

"Why, how do _you_ come to know so much about valves, pistons,
cylinders, and such like?" asked Mark.

"You forget that my father was an Englishman," returned the guide, "and,
besides being a trader, was a sort of Jack-of-all-trades.  He taught me
many things about which the kinsfolk of my mother know very little.  You
must not suppose that because some of us are only half-civilised we can
do nothing neatly or well.  Many of our men are skilful workers in
metal, and we owe much of our power in that way to English missionaries,
who brought Christian mechanics to the capital.  There is hardly
anything in the shape of wrought iron-work that we cannot execute if we
have a model or pattern.  We can work also in copper and brass.  But it
is not only in metals that we can work fairly well--indeed _very_ well,
if we are to take the word of some of your own countrymen who have seen
and judged our work--we are also pretty good at pottery and
cabinet-making.  As you have seen, we can weave good cloth of cotton and
silk, and some of our ingenious men have even tried their hands at
clock-making and musical instruments."

"From what you say, Madagascar will soon become a great country, I
should think," said Mark, somewhat amused as well as interested by the
evident enthusiasm of the guide.

Ravonino shook his head.  "My country might become great," he returned,
"but there are some things much against her.  The system of forced
service to the government instead of taxes is one.  This tends to
repress ingenuity, for the cleverer and more ingenious a man is the more
will be demanded of him, both by the government and his own feudal
superior.  Then the love of strong drink is too common among us; and
last, as well as most serious, great multitudes of our people have no
regard at all for their Maker."

"Why, Ravonino," said Mark, with something of a smile, "from the way you
speak of `our' people and `my' country, I fear you think more of your
Malagasy than your English extraction."

For a few moments the guide was silent.  At length he said, slowly,
"England has indeed done us a service that we can never repay.  She has
sent us the blessed Gospel of Jesus Christ.  She is also the land of my
father, and I reverence my father.  He was very kind and good to me.
But this is the land of my _mother_!  I am a man of Madagascar."

It was evident from the expressive features of Ebony, who had joined
them, that he heartily approved of this maternal preference, but the
gravity of the guide's countenance, no less than his pathetic tones,
prevented his giving the usual candid vent to his ever-ready opinion.

Towards the afternoon the party arrived at the native village, where
grand preparations for festivities had been made.  It was evident also
that some parts of the festive libations had been taken in advance, for
the head-man had reached the solemnised point of intoxication, and some
of his young men the owlish condition.

In some parts of this island of Madagascar, as in other parts of the
world, the people reduced themselves to great poverty through strong
drink.  Though they had abundance of rice, and much beef, which latter
was salted for exportation, they sold so much of their food for arrack--
imported by traders from Mauritius and Bourbon--that little was left for
the bare maintenance of life, and they, with their families, were often
compelled to subsist on roots.  They did not understand "moderate
drinking"!  Intoxication was the rule until the arrack was done.  The
wise King Radama the First attempted to check the consumption of ardent
spirits by imposing a heavy duty on them, but his efforts were only
partially successful.

The tribe to which our travellers were at this time introduced had just
succeeded in obtaining a quantity of the coarse and fiery spirits of the
traders.  Their native visitors being quite ready to assist in the
consumption thereof, there was every prospect of a disgusting exhibition
of savagery that night.

"Don't you think we might escape this feast?" said Mark to the guide,
after the ceremony of introduction was over, "by urging the importance
of our business at Antananarivo?"

"Not easily.  Voalavo is one of those determined and hearty men who
insist on all their friends enjoying themselves as they themselves do.
To-morrow we may persuade him to let us go.  Besides, I do not object to
stay, for I intend to preach them a sermon on ungodliness and
intemperance in the middle of the feast."

Mark could scarcely forbear smiling at what he deemed the originality of
the guide's intention, as well as the quiet decision with which he
stated it.

"Don't you think," he said, "that this way of bearding the lion in his
den may rouse the people to anger?"

"I know not--I think not; but it is my business to be instant in season
and out of season," replied Ravonino, simply.

Mark said no more.  He felt that he had to do with a Christian of a
somewhat peculiar type, and thereafter he looked forward with not a
little curiosity and some anxiety to the promised sermon.  He was
doomed, like the reader, to disappointment in this matter, for that
night had not yet run into morning when an event occurred which modified
and hastened the proceedings of himself and his friends considerably.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AN UNINVITED GUEST APPEARS WITH NEWS THAT DEMANDS INSTANT ACTION.

The villagers and their guests were still in the midst of the feast, and
the arrack had not yet begun to stimulate their imaginations, so that
the deeds of their ancestors--which formed the chief subject of
conversation--were still being recounted with some regard to modesty and
truth, when Voalavo said to the assemblage, with a beaming countenance,
that he had a treat in store for them.

"You are all fond of music," he said.  "Who does not know that the
Malagasy are good singers?  The songs you have already sung have
delighted my ears, and the clapping of your hands has been in the best
of time; but you shall soon have music such as the idols would enjoy, I
have no doubt, when in a merry mood."

The chief uttered the last sentence with an air of good-natured
contempt, for he was what we may style an unbeliever in all gods--not an
uncommon state of mind in men of superior intelligence when they think
seriously of the debasing absurdities of idolatry.

"Now, my friend," he said, turning to John Hockins, with an air and tone
of command, "let them hear the little pipe on which you--you--
tootle-ootle."

Hockins had much ado to keep his gravity as he drew out the flageolet,
and every eye was instantly fixed on him in glaring expectancy.

It need hardly be said that the effect of the sweet instrument was very
powerful, and it is probable that the party of admirers might have taxed
the seaman's powers of performance to the uttermost, if they had not
been suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a tall wild-looking man,
who was evidently in a state of tremendous excitement.

He wore the usual cloth round the loins, and the _lamba_, which was
thrown like a Scottish chieftain's plaid over his left shoulder--but
these garments bore evidence of rough usage and hard travel.  The man
was not a stranger, for, as he suddenly stood panting vehemently in the
midst of the party, with his long arms outstretched, Voalavo addressed
him in tones of surprise.

"Razafil!" he exclaimed.  "Glad are we to see the Bard of Imarina.  Your
coming is well-timed.  We are feasting, and singing, and story-telling.
Words from the poet will be welcome."

Notwithstanding the friendly reception thus accorded to the Bard of
Imarina, it was evident that the words were thrown away upon him, for he
continued for some time to glare and pant while perspiration rolled down
his face, and it became clear to every one that something was wrong with
him.  At last he spoke in a kind of low singing tone which harmonised
with his appearance--

  "Vain man!  Observ'st thou not the dead?
  The morning warmth from them has fled,
  Their mid-day joy and toil are o'er,
  Though near, they meet fond friends no more."

He paused and looked wildly yet tremblingly round, as if in search of
some one, but took no notice of his friends, many of whom were present
at the gathering.  Then he continued in the same strain--

  "A gate of entrance to the tomb we see,
  But a departure thence there ne'er shall be.
  The living waves his signal high,
  But where's the loved one's fond reply?
  Ah! where are those thus doomed to die?

  "Vain man! observ'st thou not the dead?
  No more their homeward path they tread.
  The freeman lost may ransom'd be,
  By silver's magic power set free;
  But, once the deadly hand has laid them low,
  No voice can move them, for they cease to know.
  Regardless of our love they lie;
  Unknown the friends that o'er them sigh;
  Oh! where are those thus doom'd to die?"

Again the poor man paused, and gasped as if some terrible agony were
rending his bosom, yet no tear moistened his eyes, from which there
seemed to gleam the wild light of insanity.  His appearance and words
had sunk like a pall upon the festive party, but no one spoke or moved.
It was as if they were spell-bound.  Once more the poet spoke, and this
time in tones of deepest pathos--

  "Vain man! why groan ye for the dead?
  To be with Jesus they have fled,
  With shattered limbs--'mid scorching flame,
  They sang the praises of His name;
  Now, joy unspeakable, they tread the shore
  Whence ransom'd sinners shall depart no more.
  But ah! while mangled corpses lie,
  Our trembling, riven hearts _will_ cry--
  `Why, why were those thus doom'd to die?'"

The man ceased; his arms fell listlessly by his side, and his chin sank
on his breast.

"I fear much," whispered Ravonino to Mark, "that I understand but too
well what he means."

Without waiting for a reply the guide rose.  Going up to Razafil he laid
his hand gently on his arm, and said--

"My brother!"

The bard looked at him earnestly for a few seconds, then, grasped him by
the wrist as with a grip of iron.

"Ravoninohitriniony," he said, fiercely, "my little one is dead!  She is
gone!  They took her--a mere child--they tortured her, but she would not
yield.  Hear what I say.  You knew her well--the soft one; the tender
one, who was always so pliable, so unselfish, so easily led,--she _would
not_ yield!  They led her to the place of execution; they tied her to a
stake and kindled the fire about her beautiful limbs,--my little child,
Raniva!  I saw the skin upon her flesh blacken and crack and blaze.  But
she sang! sang loud and clear!  I would have rushed into the fire to her
but they held me back--four strong men held me!  When she was consumed
they led me away to the torture--but I burst from them--escaped--I know
not how--I care not! for my little one is lost!--lost!--"

"Nay, Razafil--not lost!" said Ravonino, in a quiet but firm tone, for
he saw the gleam increasing in the poor father's eyes.  "Did you not say
just now that she is singing with joy unspeakable the praises of His
name?"

The words were fitly spoken.  The father's agonised soul was quieted,
but as quietness partly returned to him, a new expression appeared on
his countenance.

"Listen," he said, still holding the guide's wrist in his powerful
grasp.  "I go to my poor wife.  She is safe in the cave with
Reni-Mamba--"

"Not in the cave you think of," interrupted the guide, explaining the
change of abode which had been recently made by the Christian fugitives.

"No matter," returned the bard, "I know all the caves, and can find the
one she has gone to.  But now I must warn you--warn all of you who are
Christians," he added, with emphasis, looking round upon the natives,
"if there be any such among you--that Queen Ranavalona has got one of
her bad fits again.  She has ordered that no one is to sing or pray to
Jesus, or to read the Word of God, on pain of imprisonment, death, or
being sold into slavery.  Many have been sold already, and some have
died.  Things would have been even worse, for the English missionary has
left Antananarivo, but Prince Rakota remains our friend.  Still, he
cannot save every one.  He could not save my Raniva!  Now," he added,
turning to the guide abruptly, as if anxious to keep his mind from
dwelling on his terrible bereavement, "you must go to Antananarivo with
all haste if you would save Rafaravavy, for she is in great danger."

The bard had touched a cord in Ravonino's breast which vibrated
sensitively.

"She has not confessed?  She is not in prison?" he asked, quickly, with
emotion which was too powerful to be entirely suppressed.

"As to confessing," returned Razafil, "there is no need for her to do
that, for it is well-known that she is a Christian; but the queen is
fond of her and wishes to spare her.  Nevertheless, she is so exceeding
mad against us just now, that there is no saying when her forbearance
may come to an end.  If you would save Rafaravavy, you must get her out
of the palace without delay."

The guide did not reply for a few seconds.  It was evident, from the
knitted brows and the pallor of his countenance, that he was
endeavouring to make up his mind to some course of action.  Suddenly the
frown passed from his brow, his countenance became perfectly calm, and
his eyes closed.

"He is speaking with God," whispered Laihova to one who sat near him.

Laihova may have been right.  If so, the prayer was a very brief one,
for the guide turned almost immediately to Voalavo and explained that in
the circumstances it was absolutely necessary for him and his comrades
to depart at once for the capital.

The chief, being a sympathetic as well as a hilarious soul, made no
objection, but rather urged him to make haste.

Ravonino then turned to his white companions, who could, of course, only
guess at the meaning of all that had been said, and explained to them
the whole matter.  They rose at once, and, having no preparations to
make, professed to be ready to start there and then.

Now, while they were yet speaking, the festive party received another
surprise, or alarm, which was even more exciting than the previous one.

A young man suddenly burst into the village with the announcement that a
body of the Queen's soldiers were close at hand.  They had been sent off
in pursuit of Razafil, with directions to scour the country, and bring
in as many Christian fugitives as possible, and he--the young man--being
a fast runner, had been sent in advance by some friends of the bard to
warn him of his danger.

"I would not try to avoid them if I stood alone," said Razafil, softly.
"Should _I_ shrink from dying for Jesus, after seeing my Raniva go to
Him in a chariot of fire?  But I stand not alone.  My wife claims my
support, and my little boy."

While he was speaking, it was seen that a few of the hunters, as well as
one or two inhabitants of the village, rose quietly and left the place.
These were either professing or suspected Christians, who were anxious
to make their escape from the danger that threatened.

After bidding Voalavo farewell, the guide and his friends left the
village and struck into the woods.  They were accompanied by the bard a
short distance, until a point was reached where their routes diverged,
and here, after a few words of brotherly sympathy and counsel from
Ravonino, the bereaved man went on his solitary way, and the others
directed their course towards the capital.

"Poor man," said Ebony, who looked over his shoulder with profound
sorrow in his earnest eyes as long as the tall figure of the bard was in
sight, "I's most awrful sorry for 'im.  Why don't dey hang Randalvalona,
or shot 'er?"

"History teaches that it's not always so easy as one might think to get
rid of objectionable queens in that way," said Mark.

"Hm!  I'd teach history suffin diff'rent if I had my way," returned the
negro.

"But surely the great men around her might have some sort o' power to
clap a stopper on 'er?" said Hockins.

"They have some power, but not much," returned the guide, "for
Ranavalona is a passionate, self-willed, cruel woman; and when such a
woman happens to be a despotic queen, nothing short of a revolution, or
her death, can save the country.  She usurped the throne in 1829, we
have now reached 1857, so she has been reigning more than twenty-seven
years, and a bitter reign it has been.  There have been many
persecutions of the Christians since it began.  Hundreds have been
slain; thousands have been sold into slavery; many more have been
banished to pestilential districts, where disease has laid them low.
God grant that this mad fit may not be the forerunner of another burst
of cruelty."

"But do you really think," said Mark, "that Rafaravavy is in great
danger?  Did not the bard say that she is a favourite with the queen?"

"That is some security, but not much, for Ranavalona is changeable as
well as cruel.  But my dear one is in the hands of God.  No harm can
come to her unless He permits.  Nevertheless, our God works not by
miracles but by means, therefore it is my business, having the
opportunity given me, to hasten to her rescue."

"And it is mine to help you," said Mark, an impulse of youthful
enthusiasm and sympathy swelling his heart as his mind suddenly reverted
to the morning when he left England, and said his last good-bye to the
fair one with the golden hair and the rosebud mouth and "such lovely
blue eyes!"

"But how," he continued, "shall we best aid you in this matter?"

"That question I cannot answer immediately.  When we draw near to the
capital and hear what is going on I shall be able to form a plan.  What
we have to do just now is to travel fast.  You are strong stout men, all
of you.  Do you think you can walk fast and far with little rest or
sleep, and without breaking down?"

"I think so," answered Mark, modestly.

"I's cock-sure ob it," said Ebony, "if we's allowed lots o' grub."

"I'm not quite so sure," said Hockins; "you must remember I've only got
sea-legs on--but I'll try."

And he did try, and so did the others; with such success, too, that
before the sun set that evening they had penetrated into the very heart
of the mountain range which runs through the centre of the island.

There had not been much conversation on the way, for hill-climbing all
day at top-speed is not compatible with small talk.  Besides, the
obvious anxiety of Ravonino rendered his companions less inclined than
usual to engage in desultory remarks.  Nevertheless there were
occasions--during momentary halts to recover breath, or when clear
bubbling springs tempted them to drink--when the prolonged silence was
broken.

"Putty stiff work dis hill-climbin', massa," said Ebony, during one of
these brief halts, as he wiped the perspiration from his sable brow with
the back of his hand.  "Lucky I's used to it."

"Used to it?" repeated Mark.

"Yes.  Di'n't I tell you I was born an' raised among de Andes in Sout'
Ameriky?"

"To be sure, I forgot that, but there must be a considerable difference
between the two mountain ranges."

"Das troo, massa, but de diff'rence don't make much diff'rence to de
legs.  You see, wild rugged ground much de same wheder de mountains rise
a few t'ousand foot, like dese, or poke der snow-topped heads troo de
clouds right away up into de blue sky, like de Andes.  Rugged ground is
rugged ground, an' hard on de legs all de same, an' dis am rugged 'nuff
even for 'Ockins!"

The negro opened his huge mouth in an amiable laugh at his companion,
who had taken advantage of the brief halt to give a hearty rub to his
colossal limbs.

"Rugged enough it is, no doubt," said the sailor, gravely, "an' it makes
my sea-legs raither stiffish.  But never you fear, Ebony; they're tough,
an' will last as long as yours, anyhow."

"You's right, 'Ockins.  Dey'll last _longer_ dan mine by eight or ten
hinches--if not more."

"Your jokes are small, Ebony, which is more than can be said for your
mouth.  Shut it, man, or some of us'll go tumblin' into it by accident."

While these two were indulging their little pleasantries, the guide and
his friend Laihova had gone to the top of a neighbouring bluff to
consult as to the best route to adopt in the present troubled state of
the country.

The view from the commanding height on which they stood was indeed
marked by a rugged grandeur which might have done credit even to the
giant Andes themselves, and offered a variety of routes, or rather
obstructions to routes, which might well perplex men who were eager to
cross country swiftly.

The point which they had reached, and much of the range they had
crossed, was formed of basalt in various stages of decomposition; but in
the country before them, for several miles in advance, huge masses of
granite and fragments of quartz indicated a change in the nature of the
prevailing rock.  The position of these masses, as well as their size,
gave a wild Titanic aspect to much of the scenery.

Many enormous stones projected out of the ground at various angles.  One
of these stood out horizontally to the distance of between twenty and
thirty feet, forming a cave under it, in which it was evident, from
sundry suggestive appearances, that wayfarers were accustomed to lodge.
The neighbourhood of this cave formed one of the most romantic and
picturesque scenes they had yet seen.  It was a dark narrow vale, in
many places not less than five hundred feet deep, with a considerable
stream at the bottom, which brawled among detached and shattered rocks,
or was partly lost to view in its meanderings among the beautiful green
shrubs which clothed its banks.  Various kinds of birds twittered among
the bushes, and wherever water expanded in the form of pond or lakelet
numerous waterfowl sported on the surface.

"A glorious prospect!" exclaimed Mark, as he joined the guide and his
friend, "and a splendid place, I should think, for fugitives from
persecution."

He pointed, as he spoke, to the scene on his right, where masses of rock
varying from thirty to fifty feet in length projected from the side of
the ravine.  On the top of these rested other masses in a position that
seemed to threaten destruction to all who ventured beneath them.

"The caves of this region," said the guide, "have served to shelter the
Christians many a time.  It looks as if God had provided these blocks of
granite for this very purpose, for the caverns which extend beneath them
are dark and intricate, having many entrances, and being lighted in some
places by openings between the blocks, while in other places they are
profoundly dark and of unknown extent.  See also, if you look at the
stream below, they form a splendid bridge.  At this distance they do not
seem large, but some of these blocks are not less than a hundred feet
long.  This whole region is infested by robbers, but the recent act of
the Queen in sending troops out to scour the country for fugitive
Christians seems to have driven them away.  But if they had been here we
should have had little to fear, for robbers are not usually fond of
attacking even small parties of men who are well able to defend
themselves; besides, they do not injure the outlawed Christians much.
Perhaps they have a sort of fellow-feeling for us!"

At this point Laihova spoke a few words to the guide in the native
tongue.  The latter nodded approval, and turning to Mark, said--

"We have been consulting about our route.  There are two roads--one
rugged, round-about, and safe, which would take us a longer time,
however, to reach the capital than the other, which is the regular
beaten path, through the villages.  But this latter way lays us open to
the danger of meeting with soldiers, and of my being captured along with
my friend Laihova.  There would be no danger to you and your friends,
for you are strangers."

"Ravonino," said Mark, quickly, "do what is best for rescuing
Rafaravavy.  We have no will but yours.  We will follow wherever you
choose to lead."

A quiet look of satisfaction played on the guide's features as he turned
to his friend.

"What says Laihova?  The Englishmen are willing to do whatever we wish."

"Let us go by the villages.  Let us push on by night as well as by day,"
said Laihova.  "Time flies!  Ranavalona is mad!  Rafaravavy is in
danger!"

It was finally arranged that, at this place, which was considerably to
the south of Antananarivo, they should diverge to the right, so as to
avoid certain points of danger, and arrive ultimately at the eastern
side of the capital.

Having settled this point, the three men rejoined their comrades, who
were still conversing amicably beside the spring.  Thereafter they all
descended into the valley by a steep and rugged pathway.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A NARROW ESCAPE AND THREATENING CLOUDS.

Their progress after leaving the spot described in the last chapter was
not so rapid as could have been desired by anxious men, for it was
absolutely necessary to proceed with extreme caution.

Not only were the Queen's troops out in various directions, but many of
her spies had been seen prowling about, like the evil one they served,
seeking whom they could devour.  Of this the travellers were made aware
at the first villages they came to; and as Ravonino had formerly been
well-known at the capital, it became necessary for him not only to
disguise himself, but to keep as much as possible out of sight.

Disguising himself was not very difficult, owing to the fact that when
he lived in Antananarivo he had, like his father, worn a bushy beard.
This had made him a marked man, for the Malagasy, as a rule, have little
beard, and what little they possess is usually pulled out by the roots.
Since he became a fugitive the guide had shaved closely.  This of itself
went a long way to change his appearance; but when, in addition, he had
modified the arrangement of his hair, and stained his face of a darker
hue, he had made himself almost unrecognisable, even by his best
friends.  His chief difficulty was with his voice, which had a mellow
sweetness in it that resisted modification.  However, by keeping
silence, or speaking low, he hoped to escape recognition until he should
reach the vicinity of the capital, where he had friends who would gladly
receive and conceal him, even at the risk of their lives.

As to the great object that lay nearest his heart, he hoped to manage
that through his friend Laihova, without himself entering the capital.

Our travellers soon reached the inhabited part of the country, where,
being surrounded by men and women going about, as well as journeying
towards the Antananarivo market with provisions, etcetera, they ceased
to attract much attention.  Of course the Englishmen were subjects of
curiosity--sometimes of inquiry,--but as Laihova reported that they were
men who had been cast on the southern coast of the island, and whom he
was guiding to the capital, suspicion was not aroused.

Laihova at this point became leader of the party, in order to enable the
guide more easily to fall into the background; and he was all the more
fitted for the position in that he had acquired a smattering of English
from his friend Ravonino, and could both understand much of what was
said to him and also make himself pretty well understood by his white
friends.

This part of the journey was by no means without adventure, sometimes of
a kind that filled them with anxiety.

One evening they approached a small hamlet, or group of cottages, where
they learned, among other things, that two of the Queen's spies were at
that moment in the neighbourhood, searching for two ladies of the Court
who had fled because Ranavalona had threatened them with imprisonment.

"Are they young?" asked Ravonino, forgetting his caution in his anxiety.

"I know not," replied the man who had informed them of the fact.  "I
think some one told me they were not young--but I forget."

The guide said no more.  He regretted having said so much, for the man
glanced at him suspiciously.

Affecting an air of unconcern he turned away and bade his comrades
follow.

"Come," he said, when out of ear-shot of the man, "we must pass through
this village quickly, for we know not in what house the spies may have
taken up their quarters."

"But, don' you tink," suggested Ebony, "dat we five could wallop any
oder five men in de univarse, to say not'ing ob two spies?"

A grim smile was all the reply that the guide gave him, as he walked
quickly along the path that led out of the hamlet.

"I have a friend," he said to Mark, "who lives in a solitary cottage
half-a-mile further on.  He is rich, and, I think, a Christian man--but
secretly, for fear of the Queen.  We will call at his house in passing."

As he spoke, they approached a large house by the roadside, the owner of
which, a brown old gentleman, was enjoying himself with his wife and
family in front of it.

"Is that your friend?" asked Mark.

"No; he lives in the house just beyond.  We shall see it on clearing
this group of trees."

The track which they were following led close past the large house above
referred to, necessitating compliance with a custom of the country,
which greatly surprised, and not a little amused, the Englishmen.

We have spoken of the residence as a house, because it belonged to one
owner, but it would be more correct to call it a farm-steading, or a
group of buildings.  Except among the very poorest people, a Malagasy
family has usually two or three houses in its enclosure--frequently
more, for young married people often live beside their parents, and some
houses are appropriated to slaves, while others are used as kitchens,
etcetera, the whole being surrounded by a wall of clay.  Where a house
is near the public road they have usually a little square platform,
called the _fijerena_, in an angle of the wall, or at the gate, with
steps leading up to it.  Here the family sits, when the work of the day
is over, to watch--and, doubtless, to criticise--the passers-by; also to
do the polite according to Malagasy ideas, for it must be told that
these people are very courteous.  Even the poorest have a natural
dignity and ease of manner about them.

As our travellers approached the house they were observed with much
interest by the brown old gentleman and his comfortable-looking
wife, and his pretty little light-brown daughter, and a very
uncomfortable-looking elderly female with her head tied up, who were all
squatted on the _fijerena_.

When within hearing Laihova stopped, and said in the politest tone and
manner possible--

"Will you allow me to pass, sir?"

"Pray proceed, sir," replied the old gentleman, with a gracious smile.

This interchange of civilities was entirely formal, and stood in the
place of the Englishman's opening remarks on the weather, to which a
Malagasy would as soon think of referring, in this connection, as he
would to the hatching of crocodiles' eggs.

Then followed the conventional inquiry, "How are you?  How is it with
you?" which politenesses, in a number of variations unknown to Western
speech, would have been continued, in ordinary circumstances, until the
passers-by were beyond the range of hearing; but the appearance of the
Englishmen induced the brown old gentleman on this occasion to beg the
travellers to stop and accept his hospitality.  This they declined to
do, with many expressions of regret, on the ground that their business
at the capital was urgent.

"It would have gratified me much," said the old gentleman, "to have
entertained you.  But you are all well, I hope?"

"Yes, we are very well," answered Laihova; "and how do _you_ feel?"

"I feel as well as possible.  And is it well with _you_?"

"It is well with us.  But it does not seem to be well with the lady,"
returned Laihova, glancing at the uncomfortable female with her head
tied up.

"No, it is not well with her.  She has toothache on the north side of
her head.  Farewell," said the brown old gentleman, re-squatting on the
_fijerena_, as the travellers moved on; "may you live," he shouted after
them, when nearly out of ear-shot, "and reach old age."

Great was the amusement of our travellers at all this, especially when
Ravonino explained about the toothache.  "You must know," he said, "that
almost all the houses in the central provinces of the island are built
with their length running north and south, or nearly so, and the people
use the points of the compass in describing the position of things.
Thus, if they tell a slave to look for a thing in the house, they will
say, Look in the north, south, east, or west corner, or side; and they
apply this rule to the person also.  I once heard the member of a
mission from England told by his host that some rice was sticking to his
moustache.  The missionary wiped the wrong side.  `No,' said the host,
`it is on the _southern_ side of your moustache.'"

"Do you know," said Mark Breezy, "that is not so strange to me as you
might suppose; for I was once told by a friend who lived in the Scottish
Highlands, that an old woman there actually said to her that she had
toothache on the east side of her head!"

Further comment on this point was arrested by their coming suddenly in
sight of the house where the guide's friend dwelt.

"You had better stay here at the edge of this wood, while I go forward
alone," said the guide; "because although the man is kind, and has
always professed to be my friend, I am not quite sure of him.  It is
well to be cautious.  If I wave my hand to you, come up to the house,
all will be well.  If things don't seem favourable I will return to
you--but keep close; don't show yourselves needlessly.  You see, my
friend is an officer of the palace.  If friendly he can be very useful
to us, if unfriendly he can be dangerous."

"But why run risk by going near him at all?" asked Mark.

"We _must_ run risk when life and death are in the balance," replied the
guide, shortly.

Concealed by the bushes, the travellers watched their companion as he
went up to the house.  Before he reached it a man opened the door and
stepped out.  Suddenly this man seemed to burst into a furious passion.
He grasped Ravonino by the throat, almost threw him on his back, and,
seizing a stick, began to belabour him violently, while two other men
appeared at the door of the house, and, from their inordinate laughter,
seemed fully to enjoy the scene.

"Hi!" exclaimed Ebony in shrill falsetto, as he jumped up in blazing
wrath, intending to rush to the rescue, but Hockins grasped his woolly
head and pulled him back.

"Obey orders, you black grampus!  D'ee think he's a babby as can't take
care of himself?  Didn't he tell us to keep close?"

Great as had been the surprise of the watchers at this sudden and
unprovoked assault, it was as nothing compared with their astonishment
when they saw their guide fairly turn tail and run towards them, closely
followed by the furious man, who continued to thrash him all the time.

As Ravonino drew near, the angry man seemed to have exhausted himself,
for he fell behind, and finally stopped.  The guide ran on at full speed
until he reached the wood, but did not even then slacken his speed.  As
he ran past his friends, however, he exclaimed in a sharp, stern voice--

"Follow me!"

Laihova obeyed with the unquestioning readiness of a faithful hound.
The others followed suit with the open eyes of perplexity and amazement!

Reaching a sequestered dell in a few minutes, Ravonino suddenly stopped
and turned round with a calm air of satisfaction.

"Well, dis am de most awrful supprise I'se had since my mudder give me
my fust wollopin'."

The expression on the negro's face rendered the remark needless.

"It was well done," said the guide, seating himself on the trunk of a
fallen tree.

"A'most too well done!" returned Hockins, with a touch of sarcasm.

"Do you know," continued the guide gravely, "I've had a narrow escape?
The two men you saw laughing at the door are the very men we have been
trying to avoid,--the Queen's spies,--whom I have long known, and who
would certainly have discovered me in spite of my shaved and stained
face if we had come to talk to each other in the same room.  Luckily my
friend is smart as well as true.  He knew my voice at once.  To have
talked with me, or warned me, or let me enter his house, would have been
fatal.  His only resource lay in thrashing me off his premises--as you
have seen.  How he will explain matters to the spies I know not, but I
can trust him for that."

"Das most awrful clebber!" exclaimed Ebony, his every feature broadening
with delight at the success of the ruse.

"But what are we to do now?" asked Mark.

"Wait till he comes here.  He told me to wait."

"What!  Told you?"

"Ay--you don't suppose he let his tongue lie idle while he was using his
stick.  Of course I was myself taken aback at first when he seized me by
the throat, but two or three muttered words in the midst of his anger
opened my eyes, and I ran at once.  All the way as he ran after and
belaboured me he was giving me important information in furious tones!
The spies are only staying with him for a short rest.  When they are
gone he will come and find us here."

"He's a born actor," said Hockins.

"True--and he acted some of his blows heavier than I could have wished,
in his anxiety to impress his information on me!" said the guide.

"What is his name?" asked Mark.

"Fisatra.  He is named after a great chief who lived in this district
not long ago.--But here he comes to speak for himself."

At that moment a tall, fine-looking man, of very dark complexion, and
clad in the ample folds of a beautiful lamba, approached them.  His
whole countenance was wrinkled with the lines of fun, and his brilliant
teeth glistened as he smilingly held out his hand to the Englishmen, and
asked them to accept his hospitality.

As they passed into the house they saw two slave-girls pounding rice in
a large wooden mortar, with two enormous wooden pestles, while the
savoury steam that arose from some invisible kitchen served to put a
finer edge on their already sharpened appetites.

When the mats were spread, and the feast was being enjoyed, Ravonino
asked the host how he had got rid of the spies, and how he managed to
explain his conduct without raising their suspicions.

"Nothing easier," said Fisatra, while his broad shoulders heaved with an
inward chuckle.  "You know that I used to be feared in the palace in
days gone bye because of my violent nature, and the way in which I used
to knock about the furniture and make the household slaves--sometimes
the household troops--scurry when I was in a rage.  Yet I'm sure you
know very well, (he looked sheepishly innocent here), that I never was
an angry man--at least not a cruel one.  But that's all changed.  I am
one of _your_ set now, though no one suspects it.  Since I met Mr
Ellis--"

"Is Mr Ellis here just now?" interrupted Ravonino, anxiously.

"Not now," answered Fisatra; "he departed some weeks ago, but I believe
has not yet left the coast.  And now there is no check on the Queen's
violence.  Well, as I was about to say, I took to the old habit in
pretence, as you have seen, and when I returned from thrashing you I
went storming through the house, kicking about the pots and pans, and
foaming at the mouth in such a way that I not only stopped the spies
laughing, but put them in fear of their lives."

Again the fun-wrinkles corrugated the visage of Fisatra, and his mighty
shoulders heaved with internal explosions.

"After I had calmed down a bit," he continued, "the spies ventured to
ask timidly if that was a great enemy that I had beaten.  This set me
into, a worse passion than ever.  `Enemy?'  I shouted `no--no--not an
enemy--he--he's a--a--' but I got no further than that, for I didn't
know what to say, and I wouldn't lie, so I took to foaming and stamping
again!  At last I said, `Don't speak to me about him--excuse me, my
friends; I can't stand it--and--and the rice is nearly ready.  You must
be hungry!'  I said this with a look and tone as if another fit was
coming on.  They excused themselves.  `No,' they said, `we are not
hungry, and we have yet far to go this day before the sun descends.  The
Queen's orders will not wait.'  And off they went, glad to get out of my
way.  Truly, if it is sinful to get in a rage, it is useful sometimes to
act it!  So now, my friends, eat--eat--while you have the chance, and
fear not the return of the spies!"

"Tell me," said the guide, anxiously, "are you sure that Rafaravavy is
still safe?"

"She is still safe--but no one knows how long that may be, for she is
fearless, and utters the forbidden prayers even in the presence of the
Queen.  If it had not been for the love that Ranavalona bears her, she
would have been tossed from the `rock of hurling' long ago."

"Faithful, even unto death," said the guide, with a look and tone in
which pathos and triumph were strangely blended.

"She has not yet been tried to that extent, but if she is, God will
enable her to stand firm," said Fisatra, whose grave child-like
sincerity, when talking of religious subjects, was not less impulsively
honest and natural than were the outbursts of his fun when another
humour stirred his feelings.

The "rock" to which he alluded was a frightful precipice at one side of
the city from which criminals were usually hurled--a spot which is
hallowed by the blood of many Christian martyrs who perished there
during the long reign of that tyrant queen Ranavalona.

"Has then the queen forbidden the Christians to pray?" asked Ravonino.

"Have you not heard?--but of course you have not, being an outlaw and
having only just returned.  Recently a very bad fit has come over the
Queen.  You know that for some years past there have been a few French
people living in Antananarivo, who by their knowledge and skill in
mechanics and mercantile matters have made themselves useful to our
government.  These men lately tried to dethrone the Queen, on pretence
of delivering the country from her cruelties, and establishing a `French
Protectorate.'  They gained over some of our chief men, collected in one
of their houses a large quantity of weapons and ammunition, and had even
fixed the night when the palace was to be invaded, the Queen seized, and
the Protectorate set up.  Fortunately the plot came to my knowledge.  I
say fortunately, because a bad queen is better than a French
Protectorate, for the first will die, but the latter might never end!
Well, I at once informed the Queen, who had the conspirators seized and
banished from the country for ever.  Among them were a Roman Catholic
lady and two Jesuits.  The anger of the Queen was of course very great,
and she has had, as I have said, a very bad fit against the Christians;
for, as these unprincipled conspirators have the name though none of the
reality of Christians, she naturally mixed us all up together--and I
know not what the end will be, but I have much fear, because the Queen
is very angry."

"Has she done nothing yet?" asked Ravonino.

"Nothing--except threaten and fume.  But when the black cloud is
overhead, and muttering thunder is heard, one knows too well what to
expect--especially when one has been exposed to the storm in former
years."

"The sun is shining behind the black cloud and it will break through
when the Master wills," said Laihova, joining in the conversation for
the first time that evening, and looking earnestly at his friend
Ravonino, as if the words were meant for his ear alone--as indeed they
were.

"Thanks, thanks, my friend, for the comforting words," said Ravonino,
"and I take shame to myself that my faith is so weak."

"You will spend the night with me?" said their host to the guide.

"No, Fisatra, I dare not delay.  Even now I may be too late.  I will
journey all night."

Ravonino rose quickly and prepared to go.  The others followed his
example, and soon the party was proceeding rapidly along the high-road
towards the capital, under a cloudless sky and a galaxy of twinkling
stars.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

ARRIVAL AT THE CAPITAL--QUEEN RANAVALONA'S TROUBLES AND PERPLEXITIES.

Towards sunrise on the following morning our travellers, on passing out
of a rather dense piece of plantation which crowned the brow of a low
hill, came in sight of the capital--Antananarivo.  It was still in the
far distance, with many a rice-field and garden between, but distinctly
visible, for it occupies the summit and slopes of a considerable hill.

"Here, then, through the goodness of God, we have reached the end of our
journey," said Ravonino, halting, "and I must remain behind, while you,
my friends, push on to the city.  Fain would I go with you, but that
would ruin all, for I am a known and marked man.  Laihova will now guide
you, and tell you what to do.  I have just one word for you at parting.
Be peaceful, do not take offence.  Interfere not with our customs.  Use
not the fist, and commit your way to God."

The guide looked so pointedly at Ebony while he spoke that that sable
comrade could not help noticing it.

"What you looks so hard at me for, hey?" demanded the negro.

"Because you are somewhat hot-tempered and apt to get people into
scrapes," answered Ravonino, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

"_Me_ 'ot-tempered!" exclaimed Ebony, in surprise, with an appealing
glance at his comrades.  "I'd knock you down, Ravonino, for sayin' dat,
only it would be like as if what you say's true!  Ob all de niggers on
'art' I's de meekest, quietest--jest like a babby; why, my moder always
said so, an' surely _she_ ought to know!"

"No doubt she knew, whatever she said," observed Hockins, with a laugh.

"We will be careful," said Mark.  "But are your people, then, so
particular, that we should require this caution?"

"Well, they are not very different from other people," replied the
guide, "and if things had been as usual I should have had no fear; but
when Queen Ranavalona has one of her bad fits, there's no saying what
she may do.  Her banishing the Europeans is a bad sign.  I would that I
had not brought you here, but there is no help for it now.  We have been
seen by many people.  The news will spread to the town, and if you did
not soon appear you would be suspected as spies, and the country would
be scoured in search of you.  No, there is nothing for it now but a bold
face and an honest purpose."

"Humph!" ejaculated Ebony, "you's a fine feller to talk 'bout bold faces
an' honest purpusses, w'en you're goin' to steal a young ooman out ob de
pallis, fro' under de bery nose ob do queen!"

"To help Rafaravavy to escape of her own free will is not theft,"
replied the guide, gravely.  "When we are persecuted in one city
Scripture advises us to flee to another."

"Das true, Ravonino.  No offence meant.  Gib us your flipper, old boy!"

Grasping the guide's hand, the negro shook it warmly, and at the same
time vowed that he would be most "awrful careful," and that he would
bring Rafaravavy to his feet, dead or alive, though he should have to
fight the whole town single-handed to effect his object.

It was a Thursday evening when they stood thus conversing.  They had
kept count of the days because of the guide's quiet but firm
determination to rest in camp on the Sabbath--a plan which, although
they had no very strong principle on the subject, commended itself to
the rest of the party because of the pleasant effect of the day's rest
on both soul and body, for it afforded opportunity to have long and
earnest talks with Ravonino about the former days of persecution, as
well as quiet strolls, alone or in couples, and--it must be admitted--
occasional slumbers in the cool shade of bush or tree!

"I have purposely contrived," said the guide, "that, by walking all
night, you shall arrive early to-morrow--Friday--because it is
market-day in the town, and you will be less noticed, as well as more
amused by what you see, than if you were to arrive on any other day.
Go, and God go with you!  I shall be found in the cave that Laihova
knows of.  Farewell."

He turned, with a wave of his hand, as he spoke, and re-entered the
bush, while the others, taking the most direct route to Antananarivo,
descended into the open country.  Soon they were involved in the crowds
which were passing along all the roads leading to the city.  The people
were either taking their goods for sale or going to make purchases--
mayhap to meet friends or kindred.

All night Laihova led his friends at a smart pace.  Next day, as the
first object of our travellers was to get into the town without
attracting attention, they kept in the thick of the throng all the way
up to the market-place.  Of course the people nearest them took special
note of the two Englishmen, and some were inquisitive, but, by telling
the simple facts regarding their arrival in Madagascar, Laihova removed
any unpleasant suspicions that might have arisen regarding them.

The crowds increased as they advanced, and the numbers were still
further augmented, as well as diversified, by the Hova army, which they
came upon exercising on a plain just below the city.  Ascending the
sides of the steep hill on which Antananarivo stands, they obtained a
magnificent view of the animated scene, which conveyed the impression
rather of a grand holiday than an ordinary market-day.  This, no doubt,
was largely owing to the operations of the soldiers, whose manoeuvres
Hockins watched with a critical eye, for his father, having been a
soldier, had made him intimately acquainted with the drill as practised
in the British army at that period.

"Why, I do believe the fellers are speakin' English!" he said, in some
surprise.

"Not wonder much, for Ingleesh drill'd um," said Laihova, who, since
they parted from Ravonino, had begun to use his broken English to the
best of his power.  It must be said that that power was not great, even
at the best.

He explained to his friends that Radama the First--that wise king who
had been so fond of the English, and had done so much to aid the
missionaries, abolish the slave-trade, and civilise his people--had,
among other changes, remodelled his army after the British pattern, and
had obtained the services of non-commissioned officers from the
Mauritius to drill his troops.  These organised them into divisions,
brigades, regiments, companies, etcetera, and as they found no native
words suitable to express military evolutions, they introduced their own
English words of command, which have remained in use ever since.

By means of this army of Hova troops, and the flint-lock weapon known
familiarly as `Brown Bess,' Radama succeeded in subduing all the native
chiefs of Madagascar, with only a few exceptions, and thus became the
recognised king of an island considerably larger than Great Britain.
Being an enlightened and well-disposed monarch, he made good use of the
power thus acquired.  It was only after his death in 1828 that a
retrograde movement set in, as we have said, under the wicked Queen
Ranavalona.

It is one of the misfortunes of our fallen condition that rectitude in
any course, however good, cannot long be maintained--at least in
reasonable perfection.  The army which had enabled Radama to pursue on
the whole a beneficent course, ere long began to make its creator know
its power.  Feeling his dependence on it, Radama adopted the unwise
policy of increasing the military influence, and weakening that of the
civil officials, the heads of the people, and other functionaries whose
position was derived from ancient political arrangements.  Public
offices of honour and importance were given to military officers rather
than to civilians, and this unfair exaltation of the military over the
civilian class led, as it always does, to tyranny and injustice.

The system of service was in itself a gross form of injustice to the
people, for, although the theory of service does not at first sight
appear unjust, the practice of it was very much so.  More than the
half--perhaps nearly two-thirds--of the whole effective male population
of the central province were enrolled either as officers or privates.
These received no pay, except an occasional gift of a lamba, and about a
week's rice during the year!  The soldiers were indeed freed from money
taxes in consideration of their service, but this was small compensation
for the hardships that it entailed.  Although the drills at ordinary
times did not occur more frequently than for a day or two every
fortnight, much time was taken up in passing to and from the exercises,
especially in the case of those who lived at a distance, and thus found
it almost impossible to cultivate their own rice-fields.  Frequently,
also, the officers would not allow the men to return home without a
money bribe.  In short, the private soldier was little better than a
slave--in some cases worse--while the officers of the highest rank
possessed unreasonable power.

Military rank was founded on a system which led to some absurdities.  It
was reckoned by numbers, commencing with _one honour_ for the private,
_two honours_ for the corporal, three for the sergeant, and so on up to
thirteen for a field-marshal of the higher rank--a few having sixteen
honours!  Those thus highly _honoured_ were not numerous; but the number
of officers of lower grade was much greater in proportion to privates,
than in the British army.  Indeed from a third to a fourth of the army
was composed of officers, so that "ta Phairshon," with his excess of
pipers over fighting men, would not have appeared very outrageous in the
eyes of the Malagasy troops!

These officers had an eye to profitable business when not on service.
It is stated by the missionaries that when engaged in building their
churches and schools they sometimes found they had a field-marshal for a
foreman, a colonel for mason or carpenter, a major for bricklayer, and
so on!  Above the thirteenth rank the numbers were very few, and of the
sixteenth there were not above half-a-dozen.

Good, stout, courageous fellows were the men whom John Hockins and his
comrades saw that day manoeuvring below them on the plain of
Imahamasina; men who, although by no means comparable to European troops
in precision of movement, understood their work nevertheless, and would
have proved themselves formidable opponents to deal with in war.
Laihova further informed them that the first man who organised the force
was a Sergeant Brady, who began his work in the year 1816, carried it on
for many years, and rose to the rank of major-general in the service of
King Radama.  After General Brady's death, the native officers continued
the work on the same lines.

But in costume and appearance these soldiers were what is familiarly
known as "a queer lot!"  The uniform of the rank and file consisted of a
tunic and trousers of white material, with a narrow-brimmed straw hat
painted white, cross-belts and cartouche-box--by no means an unbecoming
dress.  But it was worn only at drills and reviews and state ceremonies.
At other times, when on duty, soldiers went about almost naked, and the
contrast of their dirty-white cross-belts with their brown breasts was
curious, to say the least, while their straw hats and slovenly gait
suggested anything but soldierly bearing.

The variety of dress indulged in, however, by the crowd of officers was
outrageous as well as mirth-provoking.

"Why it seems to me," said Mark, "that every officer may put on what
seemeth right in his own eyes!  I see old regimental red coats and
pantaloons; hats and shakos that must have been worn a hundred years
ago.  I even see what looks at this distance like naval uniforms and
cocked hats, and no two of them seem to be dressed alike."

Mark looked inquiringly at Laihova as he spoke, but that dignified
native merely smiled, and made a slight inclination of his head, as if
to say, "Just so, that's the way we do it here!"

"Why do they let civilians mix wi' them?" asked Hockins, pointing to a
particular part of the field.

"To keep 'em cibil, I s'pose," suggested Ebony.

"Where?" asked Laihova, with a puzzled look.

"There--don't you see 'em?  Fellers all in black--with bell-toppers--
beavers--chimney-pots on--I don't know what you call 'em here."

"Them be officers too," said Laihova.

And this was true, for the higher grades of officers usually appeared at
drill in a full suit of black cloth, with the common black silk hat
doing duty as a helmet, and contrasting oddly enough with the rough
home-made scabbardless sword, which was carried naked in the hand.

On some occasions, as our travellers afterwards learned, these regiments
turned out in every variety of costume, with coats, hats, vests, and
trousers, of all colours and patterns--as if they had been got up by an
extensive dealer in old clothes.  This passion for variety even extended
to the officers of the palace, with whom, however, the material was of
the best as well as gayest--for they were all gorgeously clad in blue
and scarlet cloth; and velvet, with gold and silver lace, embroidery,
feathers, etcetera,--but what nation, even in the so-called civilised
world, is free from barbarism in this respect?

One pair of eyes beheld this review on that Friday with something of
fiendish satisfaction.  These belonged to no less a personage than Queen
Ranavalona herself.  High up on the balcony of her palace she sat under
the shade of a scarlet umbrella.

That very day she had had an angry interview with her Prime Minister,
Rainiharo, in reference to her only child Prince Rakota, who was a young
man of mild gentle disposition, as kind to the Christians as his mother
was cruel and unjust.  Indeed it was believed that he himself was among
the Christians, for he dared openly to defend them before his mother,
and often protected them secretly from her violence.  Rainiharo, the
Prime Minister, on the contrary, was their bitter foe, and in his
interview with the Queen above mentioned, had ventured to accuse the
prince of aiding in the protection of those who practised the proscribed
religion.

The one redeeming point in the character of Ranavalona was her love for
this son.  When asked to punish the prince for his conduct, she would
say in tones of tenderness that seldom issued from her lips, "Is he not
my son--my only son?"  Alas! she had little pity for the son or daughter
of any one else, whether "only" or otherwise!

The dress of Ranavalona, as she sat in her balcony under her scarlet
umbrella observing the troops, was gorgeous, but the greater part of it
was hidden under the voluminous folds of the scarlet lamba of finest
English broad-cloth, with which her person was enveloped.  Here and
there, however, portions of a rich silk dress of European manufacture
could be seen, as well as various gold and silver rings, bracelets,
chains, charms, and ornaments of ivory.  Scarlet being the royal colour,
only the Sovereign is entitled to wear the scarlet lamba or use the
scarlet umbrella.  The Queen's lamba was ornamented heavily with
gold-lace.  Her head was not much decorated, but her hair was anointed
with that hideous horror of the sick-room, castor-oil! the odour of
which, however, was disguised, or rather mixed, with a leaf which smelt
like nutmeg.

"I will submit to this no longer," said the Queen, with a stern frown.
"Have I not said it?  Is the will of Ranavalona to be thwarted?"

This remark was, in the conversation above mentioned, made to the Prime
Minister, a stern old man, dressed in a scarlet coat with huge gold
epaulettes, and profusely braided with gold-lace, blue pantaloons, also
gold-laced, and a magnificent brazen-sheathed sword.  He stood at the
Queen's elbow with a perplexed expression of countenance, being the
bearer of news about the effect of which he felt uncertain.  But
Rainiharo was a bold man as well as a bad one.

"Your will, madam, is sure to be thwarted," he replied, "as long as you
suffer Prince Rakota to act as he pleases.  Your son is a Christian.  He
prays with the Christians and encourages them in this new doctrine.  We
are lost if your Majesty does not stop the prince in his strange
self-willed ways."

"But," repeated the Queen, "he is my son--my only, my beloved son!  Let
him do what he pleases.  If he wishes to be a Christian, let him--he is
my beloved son!"

"But, madam," urged Rainiharo, who hated Rakota, "if your son resists
your will what becomes of the Government?  I know that Rakota--"

"Cease to speak to me of Rakota," interrupted the Queen, impatiently.
"He is my son, I tell you.  I love him.  Let him alone--he will not
disobey me."

"Prince Ramonja, it is said, has also joined the Christians," continued
the minister, with a slightly cynical expression.

"Is this true?" demanded Ranavalona, fiercely, while she seemed to grind
her teeth in wrath.

"I have reason to believe it."

"Let inquiry be made, and if it proves to be true," said the Queen,
sternly, "let Ramonja be deprived of all his military honours, reduce
him to the ranks, and fine him heavily."

"But he is your own nephew, madam," returned the Minister, simply, yet
with a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"It matters not.  It is of our mercy that he does not die, as many
others have died before him.  Let my orders be obeyed if Ramonja is
guilty.  Let him be a warning to others in the palace, for it has come
to my ears that some of our courtiers are hankering after this religion
that seems to have turned my people mad.  Indeed it is said that some
related to yourself are among them."

She looked pointedly at Rainiharo as she spoke, and the prime minister
winced, for he had lately discovered that his own son was among the
number of the "praying people."  Recovering himself in a moment,
however, he merely said that he was not aware of any of his kindred
having fallen away from the customs of their ancestors.

"I hope not," returned the Queen, darkly, "for degradation and slavery,
if not death, await them if they do.  Go.  Let a proclamation be made
to-day in the market-place.  Let my people and the army know that I have
resolved to extinguish Christianity.  Tell those officers who have
become Christians, or have taken any part in religious teaching, that
they shall lose their honours.  They have transgressed my laws and
deserve death, but through the supplications of the people of Imerina
their lives are spared.  But their honours, I say, shall be thrown into
the river and carried over the cataract of Ifarahantsana, for they are
trying to change the customs of our ancestors.  Of some, half the
honours shall be thrown into the river.  Of others, one-third of their
honours shall be thrown in, and some shall lose all their honours; the
precise number shall be in proportion to their offences.  Moreover,"
continued the angry woman, as she worked herself into a state of great
wrath, "there must be no more praying; no more psalm-singing among my
people; no more--"

She stopped suddenly and listened, while the veins in her neck and
forehead seemed to swell almost to bursting, for at that moment the
clear notes of a sweet female voice came from some distant part of the
palace and broke softly on her ear.  There was no mistaking the nature
of the music, for the Queen had long been familiar with the music of the
psalms, in which the "praying people" were wont to sing praise to the
name of Jesus.

"Who sings?" she asked, with a fierce look at Rainiharo.

The prime minister again gave vent to a very slight touch of sarcasm as
he replied, "I think it is Rafaravavy."

This time the queen noted the tone, and sharply ordered her minister to
be gone and do her bidding.

Now, Rafaravavy was a lady of the palace, as we have said, and a great
favourite with her royal mistress, but the queen's affection for the
girl had been severely tested since the latter showed symptoms of a
leaning towards the Christian religion.  It is probable that Ranavalona
would have cared little as to what her favourite thought about
Christianity if she had only kept quiet, but Rafaravavy was one of those
earnest straightforward souls who are prone to act in accordance with
their conscientious beliefs without regard to consequences.  She did not
indeed go about endeavouring to proselytise the household, for she was
naturally timid, soft-hearted, and meek, but she made no attempt to
conceal her opinions and her sympathy with the persecuted Christians.
She had even gone the length of interceding for them once or twice when
she found her mistress in an amiable mood, but the explosion of wrath
which resulted warned her not to presume again in that way.

For some time Ranavalona sat brooding over the mystery of that religion,
which, notwithstanding all her power and cruelty, she had, after so many
years of tyranny, been unable to suppress.  Then she sent for
Rafaravavy.

The girl, who in a few minutes entered her presence, was possessed of no
ordinary beauty.  Her delicate features and oval face were much lighter
in complexion than those of the other ladies of the court, resembling
rather those of a Spanish brunette than a Hova beauty.  Her eyes were
large, soft, and lustrous; her nose was straight and thin, and her mouth
small, with an expression of habitual gravity which made her smile, when
it came, all the more attractive.  Little wonder that poor Ravonino had
lost his heart to her, for, besides beauty of countenance, the girl was
endowed with a sylph-like form, a sprightly disposition, and the sweet
grace of humility.

"You have disobeyed me, Rafaravavy," said the Queen as she entered.

"Forgive me!" answered the girl in a low musical voice.  "I did not
think my song of praise would reach your ear.  It was meant only for my
God and Saviour."

"Is your God then deaf, that you must sing so loud?" asked the Queen,
sharply.

"He is not deaf, blessed be His name!" exclaimed the maiden, with
enthusiasm, "neither is His arm shortened that it cannot save.  Oh! if
you--"

"Stop!" cried the angry Queen, "you have presumed to talk to me thus too
often.  You deserve to die for singing psalms.  Have you given up
praying since I forbade it?"

There was that in the voice of Ranavalona which alarmed the girl, and
caused her to tremble as she replied, with some hesitation, that she
still prayed.

Instead of giving way to another burst of passion the Queen adopted a
bantering tone, and said--

"Come, Rafaravavy, tell me what you pray for."

"I pray for the pardon of my sins."

"Is that all?  Surely you pray for something more than that.  Something
nice that you want very much."

"Yes," continued the girl, becoming somewhat pale, yet praying silently
for courage even while she spoke.  "Yes, I pray for the pardon of--of
_your_ sins, and--"

"Go on!  Why do you stop?"

"And that your eyes may be opened that you may `see the King in His
beauty,' and be drawn to Him by the cords of love, so that you may cease
to persecute the Christians and learn to join with them in praising the
name of Jesus who redeemed us from destruction, and is ready and willing
to save us from our sins."

While Rafaravavy was speaking Ranavalona put her hand over her eyes.
When the former ceased, she did not remove the hand, but said, in a tone
which the poor girl could not quite understand--

"Go!  Enough.  Leave me!"

As Rafaravavy left the balcony, a prepossessing youth of delicate form
and gentle mien emerged upon it by another door.

"Mother," he said, earnestly, "do, _do_ give me leave to recall your
proclamation.  I have just heard of it from Rainiharo.  Believe me, many
of the nobles are not so good--I mean so guilty!--as you think.  And the
poor Christians--why should they not pray and sing?  It is all that you
have left to them, for they no longer dare to worship together in the
churches."

"No, Rakota, I will not recall it.  Your constant pleading worries me.
It is enough to say that the people shall be examined--by the tangena
ordeal if necessary--and they shall be punished according to their
deserts.  Is that all that you come here for, my son?"

It was evident from her tone that Ranavalona relented a little, though
her words were firmly spoken.

"I came also to tell you," said the prince, "that the Europeans whom
your spies brought news of some time ago have arrived.  They are even
now in the market-place.  By my orders the guards have let them pass
without question."

"Always interfering, Rakota!" said the Queen, angrily.  "Why were they
not seized and guarded till I should find time to speak with them?"

"Because, mother, that would scarcely be a civil way of receiving
strangers."

"Strangers!  Spies you should have said.  Have you forgotten the
ungrateful Frenchmen who so lately tried to overturn my government?"

"But these are not Frenchmen.  They are English," said the prince, "and
I will answer for them being good and true men."

"No doubt English are better than French--at least I hate them less; but
they are all pale-faced liars and Christians, and none of them shall
remain in my land.  But how can _you_ tell, boy, that they are good and
true men?  Have you had speech with them?"

"Not I," returned the prince.  "I have only seen them as they entered
the town, but that was enough.  One glance satisfied me of their being
true men.  When the sun rises it needs not much wisdom to know that
there is heat and light.  An honest face is like the sun.  You cannot
fail to know it."

"Go, foolish boy.  You are too confident.  I will not tolerate
Europeans.  These men shall be arrested.  Hence, and send hither an
officer."

Finding that the Queen was not in a temper to be trifled with, Rakota
wisely made no reply, but bowed and went his way.  In delivering the
message to the officer, however, he whispered such words to him as
secured a little delay in the execution of the royal commands.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE PRIME MINISTER LAYS DEEP PLANS--SO DOES HIS NEPHEW--THE GREAT
MARKET-PLACE--A FRIEND IN DEADLY PERIL, AND OUR THREE HEROES COME TO
GRIEF.

Returning to his own quarters in the palace, and chafing to find that
some one had informed the Queen about his son's defection, Rainiharo
encountered a favourite nephew, named Soa, who had also, unknown to his
uncle, given up idolatry, and, like Prince Ramonja, been led to embrace
the Gospel through the instrumentality of Prince Rakota.

"Well met, Soa," said the premier, "I have a proclamation to make which
will bring sorrow to the hearts of some of these hated Christians."

He paused a moment, as if in thought, and Soa, a fine-looking young man
of pleasant countenance and agile frame, seemed about to reply, but
checked himself.

"Now, my boy," resumed the old man, "I have a piece of work for you to
do.  You have heard of the arrival of the Englishmen?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Well, I have reason to believe that they have been led hither by that
son of a thunderbolt, Ravoninohitriniony, and that he is even now in
hiding in the neighbourhood.  At the gate you will find one of our
spies, who will conduct you to the cavern in which he lies concealed.
Of course I could have him seized at once if I chose, but I have a
deeper game to play, and want to make Ravoninohitriniony an unwitting
instrument.  It seems that more of the people in the palace are
Christians than I knew of.  It has come to my ears that some of these
intend going stealthily to the cave to meet Ravoninohitriniony, for they
are fond of this son of a wild-boar, and probably hope to have news by
him of their banished kindred."

Lest it should be supposed that we are putting flippant expressions into
the mouth of Rainiharo, we may explain that the Malagasy define an
ungrateful man as the "son of a thunderbolt," and sometimes as the
"offspring of a wild-boar," because--so they say--the young of the
wild-boar, when running by the side of its dam, continually gets in
advance and turns round to bite her.  The ingratitude of which our
friend Ravonino was supposed to be guilty, consisted in his having
forsaken the idols of the country and renounced the favour of the Queen
by becoming a Christian, preferring, like Moses, to suffer affliction
with the banished people of God.

"No doubt," continued the premier, "they will be praying and
psalm-singing.  Now, knowing your detestation of these Christians, I
have resolved to send you to their meeting _as a Christian_.  You are
wise enough to know how to act when among them.  Take note of the men
and women you see there, whether high or low; make out a list of them,
and bring it to me.  Death and chains shall be their portion, for I am
fully more determined than the Queen is to stamp out this religion.  Go,
and do as I bid ye as quickly as you can."

For a few seconds the youth stood perplexed and irresolute.  Then he
said, suddenly, "Yes, uncle, I will go, according to your bidding, _as a
Christian_!" and hastily left the room.

Meanwhile Mark Breezy and his companions, led by Laihova, followed the
throng of country-folk to the market-place.  They had passed the guard
at the gate by means of that potent talisman, silver, before which few
gates are permanently closed.  If the party had sought to pass with any
pomp or circumstance, or if they had carried merchandise along with
them, they could not have passed so easily; but Laihova had only to
bestow some bits of silver on the guard and the way was at once clear.
They might have passed without it, however, had they known of Rakota's
interference in their favour.

We speak of "bits" of silver advisedly, for the Malagasy take the
simplest and most literal way of making small change; they clip their
dollars into little pieces of various sizes, and therewith transact the
business that in other lands is settled with pence.  As these clippings
are not very accurate, however, they weigh the pieces, and for this
purpose every one carries about with him a tiny pair of scales in his
waist-cloth.  These dollars were all foreign coins, for the Malagasy at
that time had, (and we believe still have), no native coinage.  All
silver that comes to their net is considered good fish.  The standard
coin is the Spanish dollar, but one will find every variety of European
and American money in circulation among them.  The method of clipping
and weighing the small change might be thought somewhat cumbrous in
European markets, for the dollar is cut up into eight _sikajy_, (each
about sixpence); the sikajy into nine _eranambatra_, and each
eranambatra into ten _vary-venty_, each of which last is about the
weight of a plump grain of rice.  Four weights, marked with a government
stamp, are used in weighing the money.  These weights are equal,
respectively, to about a half-a-dollar, a quarter-dollar, sixpence, and
fourpence.  Other amounts are obtained by varying these in the opposite
scales and adding grains of rice.  But all this forms no difficulty in
Madagascar.  Like most Easterns the natives there dearly love to haggle
and prolong a bargain--as our travellers found to their amusement that
day; for not only were the principals vociferous in their disputatious,
but the bystanders entered into the spirit of the thing and volunteered
their opinions!

Profound was the interest of the white men in this market, and deep was
the absorption of Ebony, for that amiable negro had a faculty of totally
forgetting himself and absolutely projecting himself into the shoes of
other people, thus identifying himself with their interests--a faculty
which cost him many anxious, indignant, pathetic, and hilarious moments.

"Das a most 'straor'nary sight," he said, looking round with glistening
eyes and expanded lips at the crowds of people who pressed along the
road leading to Zoma, the great market-place.

"By the way they stare at you, Ebony," said Hockins, "they evidently
think _you_ something 'straor'nary!"

"Not at all, 'Ockins.  You's wrong, as usual," retorted the negro.  "Dey
quite used to black mans, but I tink dis de fust time dat some ob dem
hab saw a man wid a face like putty."

There was indeed some ground for the negro's remark, for the people
crowded round our heroes and gazed at them with undisguised interest.

The market-place was well suited to give some idea of the various types
of countenance among the different tribes from distant parts of the
island, also for making acquaintance with the products of the country
and the manufactures of the people.  It was a sort of museum and centre
of commerce combined, with all the varied incidents, comical,
semi-tragic, and otherwise, for which markets in general are more or
less famed.

Here were to be seen great heaps of earthenware of red clay--pans for
cooking rice, water-jars, bottles, and dishes of all sorts, as well as
English crockery, especially that with the old willow-pattern design!
There were great varieties of straw hats, beautifully made of rice and
other straw.  Elsewhere might be seen iron-work of native manufacture,
some of it displaying considerable taste and skilful workmanship.  There
were also beds, with well-turned posts, made of a wood like mahogany,
and the mattresses for these were stuffed with down from a certain
flower, which made soft and comfortable couches.  Lambas of many kinds
were also to be seen, from those of coarse rofia cloth to those of finer
and more ornamental material--though the finest silk lambas and the more
expensive European goods were not often exposed for sale there, but were
to be had at the houses of the traders and manufacturers.  One part of
the market was devoted to wood for the rafters and framework of houses,
another to the sale of vegetables and fruits--among which were sweet
potatoes, manioc, beans, maize, peaches, bananas, mangoes, pine-apples,
oranges, lemons, pumpkins, melons, grapes, Cape gooseberries,
mulberries, guavas, pomegranates, and many others, besides bread-fruit
and rice--which last is the staple food of the people.

"Oh!  I say, 'Ockins," whispered Ebony at this point, "my mout's
a-waterin'."

"Well, mine's somethin' in the same way," returned the seaman, "but we
haven't a rap to buy with."

Whether Laihova overheard the whisper or not we cannot tell, but he
stopped at that moment, purchased a large quantity of the tempting
fruit, and handed it, without a word, to his friends, who received it
with becoming gratitude.

"You's a trump, Hovey," said the negro, as he put a whole peach into his
capacious mouth.

"Ditto," said Hockins, performing the same feat with a banana.

"Do I hear music?" said Mark Breezy.

"An' don't I smell rum?" remarked Hockins.

"An' doesn't I hear cackling?" inquired Ebony.

By way of answer to all three, Laihova turned round the corner of a
stall, when the party reached a spot which was devoted to the sale of
native rum, or "toaka"--a coarse fiery spirit made from sugar-cane, and
sold at a very low price.  Here a native musician was discovered
twanging a native guitar, either as an accompaniment to the cackling of
hundreds of fowls and the gobbling of innumerable turkeys, or as a
desperate effort to beat these creatures at their own game of noise.

On inquiry Mark found that fowls were sold at from fourpence to
eightpence a-piece; geese and turkeys from a shilling to eighteenpence.
Also that beef and vegetables were proportionally cheap.

"It seems to me," remarked Hockins, as they moved slowly along, enjoying
the fruit and the scene, "that this here island is a sort of paradise."

Before many minutes were over the seaman had reason to change his views
considerably on this point, for their guide led them to a spot where the
slave-market was held.  The sights they witnessed there were such as
filled the hearts of the white men with deep sorrow and indignation,
while it drew tears from the eyes of the sympathetic negro.  For the men
and women and children were no mere criminals who might in some sense be
deserving of their fate--though such there were also amongst them,--but
many of the men were guilty of political offences only, and not a few,
both of men and women, were martyrs, who, because they had left the
faith of their fathers and become followers of Jesus Christ, were sold
into temporary--in some cases perpetual--slavery, with their wives and
families.

At sight of these unfortunates Laihova was evidently much affected,
though he made strenuous efforts to conceal his feelings.

"You are grieved, I see," said Mark, in a tone of profound sympathy
which touched his guide's heart.

"Grieved!  Yes--verily," said Laihova, whose broken English was much
interlarded with Scriptural words and expressions, "for does I not see
my friends there?  But com.  They must not know me.  It is danger.
Com."

He led them quickly away from the slave-market, and as they walked along
he explained that some of the poor slaves whom they had just seen thus
publicly exposed for sale were among the nobles of the land--not only in
regard to human rank, but in right of that patent which man can neither
give nor take away,--an upright regenerated soul.  He further explained,
as best he could, that slaves in his land were derived from three or
four different sources--namely, captives taken in war; persons condemned
to slavery for crime, for political offences, and for religious
opinions; people who had been sold for debt, and the descendants of all
of these.

They had gradually quitted the market while thus engaged in
conversation, and were ascending one of the steeper parts of the city,
when their attention was attracted by a shouting not far-off.

Presently they observed a number of men and boys running in and out
amongst the houses and the low walls which surrounded them, as if in
chase of something.  Soon a man was seen to dart along the road they
were following.  As he drew near they observed that he stumbled as he
ran, yet forced the pace and panted violently--like one running for his
life.  A few moments more and the crowd was close at his heels, pelting
him with stones and yelling like wild beasts.  The fugitive turned up a
narrow lane between high walls, close to where our party stood.  He was
closely followed by the crowd.

At this point some of the pursuers stopped as if from exhaustion.

"What has he done?" said Laihova to one of these.

"He has been stealing in the market by cutting a lamba."

It is the practice to carry money tied up in a corner of the lamba, and
thieves, by cutting off this corner, sometimes manage to secure the
money.

A great cry arose just then, and some of the pursuers came running back.

"He is down," said one.  "He is dead!" said another.

Now our friend Hockins was one of those men who have at all times an
irresistible tendency to take the part of the weak against the strong,
without much regard to the cause of battle!  He instantly, without a
word, ran off at full speed to the rescue.  Ebony ran after him from
sympathy.  Mark Breezy followed from the natural desire to keep by his
comrades, and back them up, while Laihova followed--no doubt from
good-fellowship!

They soon came upon the poor man, who was completely naked, bruised and
bleeding, and surrounded by a crowd of youths, who were deliberately
stoning him as if he were a dangerous animal or a mad dog.

With a roar like a lion Hockins went at them.  He tripped up some
half-dozen big boys, flattened still more the flat noses of some of the
men, stretching them flat on their backs, and then, standing astride the
fallen man, flourished his enormous fists, and invited the entire
population of Antananarivo to "come on!"

The population refused the invitation and retired.

Ebony was not slow to follow suit, with this variation, that instead of
roaring he yelled, and instead of bestriding the fallen man, he gave
sudden chase hither and thither, with powerful effect, rendering the
rout complete.

Meanwhile Mark attended to the injured man, who seemed to be dead.
Turning him over on his back he discovered, to his inexpressible
amazement, that he _was_ no other than their old friend Mamba--the
crocodile--whom they had left with his mother and the others in the cave
many days before.

"How is it possible," he exclaimed, while dressing his wounds, "that he
can have arrived at the same time with us, for we started before him and
have travelled fast?"

Laihova explained that Mamba was one of the fleetest men in the island,
and that he could easily have passed them though starting later than
they did.  But why he had come, and why he had passed instead of
overtaking and travelling with them, he could not even guess.

As most of poor Mamba's wounds were bruises, and the few cuts were not
deep, his four friends raised him and carried him quickly into a
neighbouring house, the door of which was immediately shut.  Laihova
explained that it was the house of a personal friend of his own, who was
also a Christian, but secretly, for fear of the Queen.

Here Mamba was sufficiently brought round by Mark's ministrations to be
able to sit up and answer questions, but at first he seemed disinclined
to speak, and then gave evasive replies.

"Why this secrecy, my friend?" asked Laihova, in the native language.

"If I could answer," said Mamba, "there would be no secrecy."

"True, and I would not pry into your secrets," returned Laihova, "but we
would help you if we can."

"You cannot help me," returned Mamba, in a somewhat sad tone.  "I have
business in hand which requires haste.  I have tried to keep clear of
you to prevent delay, and to avoid mixing myself up in your dangers, for
you are in danger here.  I would not have come near the town at all, but
I required to make a purchase in the market, and hoped to do so without
being recognised.  Unfortunately an old enemy saw me.  He fell on the
device of cutting off the corner of his own lamba, and then, raising the
cry of thief, pretended that I had done it.  I ran.  You know my speed
of foot.  I trusted to that instead of trusting to my God.  They
surrounded me.  You know the end."

While Mamba was yet speaking a loud knocking was heard at the door, and
a stern voice demanded admittance.

On hearing it Mamba leaped from the couch on which he had been laid as
if nothing were the matter with him.  He glanced hastily round.  The
owner of the house seemed to divine his wishes, for he pointed to a
small window which opened into what appeared to be a court at the back
of the dwelling.  The window was merely a square opening, which appeared
scarcely wide enough to let a man's shoulders pass, but Mamba did not
hesitate.  To the amazement of Mark and his friends he took what is
familiarly known as a "header" through the window--_a la_ harlequin--and
disappeared.  To the still greater amazement of Mark and his friends,
Laihova instantly followed suit, without a word of explanation!  Indeed
there was no time for that.  A moment after the owner of the dwelling
opened the door with a very submissive look and admitted a band of armed
men.

The leader of the band, from his dress and bearing, was evidently a man
of position.  He carried in his hand a large spear highly ornamented
with silver.  This weapon--as Mark afterwards learned--was an official
spear with the Queen's name engraven on it.  The bearer of it, as well
as the spear itself, was named "Tsitialainga," which means "Hater of
Lies."

Turning to the owner of the house, the Hater of Lies sternly asked some
questions of him; but as he spoke in the native tongue he was
unintelligible to our travellers, whose spirits were not cheered by the
scowling looks of the armed men.  Whatever the question was, the answer
appeared to be unsatisfactory, for the Hater of Lies immediately turned
to his men, and pointing with the silver spear to the three strangers,
gave them a command.

Instantly they sprang upon Mark and his companions, and seized them.
Both Hockins and Ebony were for a moment paralysed by surprise; then,
their impulsive souls being stirred by a sudden gush of indignation,
they gathered themselves up for a mighty burst which would certainly
have resulted in disaster of some sort if Mark had not recovered
presence of mind in time.

"Submit!--submit!" he shouted in a loud voice of authority.  Then, in a
sharp but lower tone, "It is our only chance!  _Don't_ resist!"

With feelings of something like despair the two men obeyed.  A few
minutes more and they were bound, led through the streets surrounded by
a guard, which alone protected them from death at the hands of the angry
populace.  Then they were cast into a dark prison, loaded with chains,
and left to their reflections.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE SPIES AND THE SECRET MEETING--THE PRIME MINISTER FOILED BY THE
PRINCE.

The sun was setting, the air was balmy, the face of nature was
beautiful, the insects and birds were buzzing, humming, and chirping
happily, as if there were no such things as care and sorrow in the wide
world, when Soa, the prime minister's nephew, with his guide, approached
the forest in which was the cavern where the persecuted Christians had
arranged to hold their secret meeting.

"I am to go as a Christian!" thought Soa, as he walked on swiftly and in
silence, "as a Christian hypocrite and spy!"

The young man's countenance relaxed into something like a smile as he
thought thus; then it became solemnised as he offered the silent prayer,
"Lord, enable me to do the work honestly and well."

The way was long, but the youth's limbs were strong and agile, so that
night had not long overspread the land when he reached the end of his
journey.  The night was unusually dark--well adapted for deeds of
secrecy and crime.  If it had been lighter the two spies would have seen
a number of men and women, and even children, hurrying along stealthily
in the same direction with themselves.  They observed only two or three
of these, however, who chanced to fall in their way.  They loomed up
suddenly like spectres out of the surrounding darkness and as quickly
melted into it again.  Soa paid no attention to these apparitions,
neither did he utter a word to his companion during the journey.

Most of the way he kept a pace or two in advance of his guide, but when
they reached the more intricate and broken grounds of the forest, he
fell behind and suffered the other to lead.

At last the path wound so much among broken rocks and over steep knolls
that their progress became very slow--all the more so that the
overshadowing trees rendered the darkness profound.  Sometimes they had
to clamber up steep places on hands and knees.

Suddenly they were arrested by what seemed to them a faint cry or wail.
Listening intently, they perceived that the sounds were musical.

"The Christians are singing," said the spy in a tone which, low though
it was, betrayed a touch of contempt.  "They hold their meeting in a
cave on the other side of this mound."

"Remain here, then, till I return to you," said Soa.  "They know you to
be a spy.  They will not suppose that _I_ have come in such a capacity."

The man gave vent to a slight laugh at the supposed joke and sat down,
while the courtier advanced alone.

On the other side of the mound the sounds which had reached the
listeners' ears as a wail, now swelled upon the young man as a
well-known hymn, in which he had many times joined.  A feeling of joy,
almost amounting to triumph, filled his heart as he stood there
listening.  While he listened he observed several indistinct forms glide
past him and enter the cave.  He crept after them.

A strange sight met his eyes.  The cave was so large and high that the
single torch which burned in it merely lighted up a portion of the wall
against which it was fixed.  Even in the immediate neighbourhood of the
torch things were more or less indistinct, while all else was shrouded
in darkness profound.  Here more than a hundred dusky figures were
assembled--those furthest from the light melting, as it were, into the
darkness, and leaving the imagination to people illimitable space with
similar beings.

Soa slipped in, and sat down on a jutting rock near the entrance just as
the hymn was closing.  Few people observed him.  Immediately after, an
old man who sat nearest the light rose to pray.  Beside him stood our
friend Ravonino.  On the other side sat a young man with a remarkably
intelligent countenance.

With intense earnestness and great simplicity the old man prayed, in the
name of Jesus, that the Holy Spirit might bless their meeting and
deliver them from the power of their enemies.  He also prayed with much
emphasis that their enemies might be turned into Christian friends--at
which petition a loud "Amen" arose from the worshippers.

"Now Totosy will speak," said the old man, after a brief pause, turning
to the young man with the intelligent countenance.  "Let the Word be
brought forth."

"Stop!" cried a man, rising in the midst of the crowd, "it may not be
safe to bring out the Word just now."

"Why not, my son?" asked the old man.  "Are not all here to-night our
friends?"

"I think not," returned the man.  "As I came along I saw one of the
Queen's spies, who is well-known to me.  He was walking with the nephew
of our deadly foe Rainiharo, and Soa himself sits _there_!"

He turned as he spoke, and pointed straight at Soa, who rose at once and
advanced to the front.

"My friends," he said, in a gentle voice, "the last speaker is right.  I
am here, and I was led here by one of the Queen's spies.  But the spy is
not here.  He awaits me outside.  Let two of your young men guard the
entrance of the cave so that our conference may not be overheard."

Two stalwart youths rose at once and hurried to the outside of this
primitive meeting-house, where they mounted guard.

"I have been sent," continued Soa, "by my uncle, with orders to enter
your meeting `_as a Christian_,' take note of your names, and report
them to him!"

There was a tendency on the part of some to shrink into the background
on hearing this.

"Now," continued Soa, "I have come to obey only part of his orders.  I
have come, _as a Christian_, to warn you of the dangers that surround
you.  The Queen is exceeding mad against you.  It will be your wisest
course to refrain from meeting together just now, and rest content with
worshipping in your own homes.  But let not this distress you, my
friends.  The God whom we love is able to turn darkness into light and
to make crooked things straight.  Neither let it break up our meeting
just now.  We are safe at present.  Let us get out the Word and enjoy
the worship of our Saviour while we may."

There were murmurs of assent and satisfaction at the close of this brief
address, and one of the young men, with grave--almost mysterious--looks,
took up a small spade and went towards that part of the wall where
Ravonino sat.  The latter rose to let the young men get at a particular
spot, which was marked on the wall with a small--almost imperceptible--
red square.  Here, after turning up a few spadefuls of earth, he struck
upon a stone.  Lifting it, he disclosed a hole about a foot square.  The
old man who presided at the meeting thrust his hands into this hole and
gently lifted out a thick volume, which he laid reverently upon a flat
rock that formed a sort of natural table in front of him.

This was "the Word" to which reference had been made--an old,
much-soiled and worn Malagasy Bible, which had been buried there, so
that, whatever might become of its Christian owners, it might escape
being found and condemned to the flames, as so many of its fellows had
been.

It was a curious Bible this, in more respects than one.  In Madagascar
the Bible was printed first in sections by the natives, under the
superintendence of the missionaries; these sections got scattered, for
teaching purposes, and various editions of different sizes were printed
at different times.  The original owner--if we may not call him
fabricator--of the Bible, now referred to as having been dug up in the
cave, must, in his desire to possess the Word of God complete, have been
at considerable pains to secure every fragment and leaf that came in his
way, and then had them all bound together.  A clasp of leather and a
European hook-and-eye fastened the edges.  The different portions, of
course, did not fit exactly, and some of the verses necessarily
overlapped.  Nevertheless, a nearly complete and substantial Bible was
the result of his labours.  _See Note 1_.

Taking up the treasured book with great care, the young man before
mentioned by the name of Totosy opened it and selected a text.  "Fear
not, little flock, it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the
kingdom."

From this he preached an admirable sermon, full of hope and consolation
to men and women situated as his companions were at that time, and
holding up Jesus not only as the deliverer of the world from sin but
from fear of physical death.  Strengthening of this sort, truly, was
much-needed, for during the previous persecutions of 1837 and 1849 Queen
Ranavalona had given terrible evidence of her fierce and relentless
nature, so that Christians were now well aware of what they had to
expect if another cruel fit came upon her.

The sermon finished, another hymn was sung, followed by a prayer, after
which, before finally breaking up and dispersing, the worshippers
collected in various groups; and exclamations of surprise, joy, and
fervent thanksgiving were heard, now and again, when friends who had
parted as enemies on account of religious differences unexpectedly met
as brothers in the Lord.

It has ever been a result of persecution that the persecuted cause has
made progress--naturally so, for trial and suffering winnow out the
chaff and leave the good seed to flourish with increased vigour.  Few
false professors attended those midnight meetings, which were so full of
joy and danger, and none of these ever got the length of Ranavalona's
fiery stakes or the fearful "rock of hurling."

For fully a quarter of a century, (from 1836 to 1861), did the
persecution of the native Christians last in Madagascar.  During most of
that dark period Queen Ranavalona the First endeavoured, by cruel
prohibitive laws, torture, and death, to stamp out the love of Christ
from her dominions.  Through most of that period she tried to prevent
her people from meeting for worship, praying to God in the name of
Christ, or reading the Scriptures or any other Christian book, and those
who disobeyed her did so at the risk of losing property, liberty, or
life.  Nevertheless, in spite of this, worship was kept up in secret--in
secluded villages, in recesses of the forest, in caves, even in
rice-holes; the Word was read, faithful natives preached, and Baptism
and the Lord's Supper were continuously observed.  Small portions of
Scripture--even leaves--were carefully treasured and passed from hand to
hand until "these calamities" were past; and now, at the present time,
the Church in Madagascar is ten times stronger than ever it was before!

Of course active persecution was not maintained throughout the whole
period of twenty-five years.  The volcano smouldered at times.  For
brief periods it almost seemed as if about to become extinct, but at
intervals it burst forth with renewed violence.  At the time of which we
write, (1857), there were mutterings of the volcano, and portents in the
air which filled the persecuted ones, and those who loved them, with
grave anxiety.

In a dark corner of the cavern Soa and Ravonino stood apart, after the
service was over, and conversed in subdued tones.

"Do you think the lives of my comrades are in danger?" asked the latter,
anxiously.

"It is difficult to answer that," replied Soa.  "The Queen fears to
offend the English by putting European subjects to death; but she is in
a savage mood just now, and your friends have intermeddled with matters
that they would have been wise to let alone.  Banishment is more likely
to be their fate, but that will be almost equal to death."

"How so?" asked Ravonino.

"Because Ranavalona will probably treat them as she treated the
Europeans who lately tried to overthrow her government.  She sent them
down to the coast with orders to their conductors to keep them so long
on the way--especially on the unhealthy fever-stricken parts of the
route--that sickness might have time to kill them."

"And was the plan successful?"

"Not quite, for the white people turned out to be tough.  They managed
to get away from our island alive, but in a state of health, I believe,
that will very likely prevent them from ever wishing to return!"

"I have much love for these men," said Ravonino, after a pause.  "You
have influence with Rainiharo.  Can you not befriend them?"

"I shall have little influence now with my uncle," returned Soa, sadly,
"for I am a Christian, and he will soon discover that.  But I will help
them if I can--for your sake."

"And Rafaravavy," said Ravonino, in a lower voice, "do you think she can
be induced to fly?  If she were brought to me here, I should have little
difficulty in taking her to a place of safety."

"The difficulties in your way are greater than you suppose," said Soa.
"The Queen's spies and soldiers are out all over the land.  Even now,
were it not that I am your friend and brother in Jesus, you would have
been caught here as in a trap.  Besides, there is the greater difficulty
that Rafaravavy is filled with fidelity to her royal mistress, and
pities her so much that she will not leave her.  You know that she
openly confesses Christ in the palace, yet so great is the Queen's
regard for her that she will not listen to my uncle, who would gladly
see her tossed over the `rock of hurling.'  I had converse with her the
other day, and I see that she even hopes to be the instrument of the
Queen's conversion to Christianity."

"God bless her!" exclaimed Ravonino, fervently.

"Amen!" returned Soa, "and I doubt not that the blessing will come,
though it may not come in the way we hope.  It is no easy matter to say
`Thy will be done' when we are suffering."

"Prince Rakota has done much for the Christians in time past," urged
poor Ravonino, who felt that all hope of delivering the girl he loved,
at the present time, from the dangers that surrounded her was gradually
slipping away from him; "surely he can and will protect her."

"I fear he has not the power," answered Soa.  "He has interfered in
behalf of the Christians so often of late that the Queen is losing
patience; and you know that if she once gives way to her cruel rage, the
life of Rakota himself is not safe.  But, you may trust me, my friend; I
will do my best to move him to aid you--and your friends also."

Most of the people had left the cave while these two were conversing,
with the understanding that they were not to return, as it was no longer
a safe retreat.  Another and more distant rendezvous was, however,
appointed; the treasured Bible was not restored to its old place of
concealment, but carried off by Totosy, the young preacher, to be
reburied in a new place of refuge.

"Do you follow them?" asked Soa of Ravonino, when the others had all
gone and they were about to part.

"No.  My companions will come here expecting to find me if they escape.
I must remain, whatever befalls.  If the soldiers come, I will see them
before they arrive, and give them the slip.  If they give chase they
will find it troublesome to catch me!"

When Soa returned to the city he went straight to the apartments of the
prime minister, whom he found impatiently awaiting him.

"You have been long," said the latter.

"The distance is great," replied the nephew.

"Well?" exclaimed the uncle, inquiringly.

"You ordered me to act as a Christian," returned the young man, with a
slight smile, "and you know it takes time to do that."

"True--true.  And you have brought me the list?"

"No, uncle."

"What mean you, boy?"

"I mean that I have obeyed your first command; I have been to the
Christian meeting _as a Christian_."

A puzzled, inquiring look overspread the premier's countenance.

"Well, what then?"

"Well, then, of course I acted the part of a Christian to the best of my
power.  I told them why I had been sent, warned them of the evil
intended them, and advised them to escape for their lives; but, as no
immediate danger was to be feared, I joined them in their worship."

"And you have brought no list?"

"None."

Rainiharo's visage, while his nephew spoke, was a sight to behold; for
the conflicting emotions aroused produced a complexity of expression
that is quite indescribable.

"Young man!" he said, sternly, "you have disobeyed my orders.  Why have
you done this?  Your head must fall, for you show that you are a
Christian."

With great simplicity and gentleness Soa said:

"Yes, my uncle, I _am_ a Christian; and if you please you may put me to
death, for I _do_ pray to Jesus."

Utterly confounded by this straightforward and fearless reply, Rainiharo
stood for some moments gazing in silent wonder at the youth who thus
calmly stood prepared to abide the consequences of his confession.  At
first it almost seemed as if, in his anger, he would with his own hand,
then and there, inflict the punishment he threatened; but once again, as
in the case of Ranavalona, love proved more powerful than anger.

"No, no, boy," he said, turning away with a wave of his hand, as if to
dismiss the subject finally, "you shall not die.  It is a delusion.  You
deceive yourself.  Go.  Leave me!"

Soa obeyed, and went straight to the apartment of Prince Rakota to
relate to that fast friend and comrade his recent adventures, and
consult with him about the dark cloud that threatened to burst in
persecution over the unhappy land.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1.  A Bible of the kind here described may now be seen in the
Museum of the British and Foreign Bible Society, 146 Queen Victoria
Street, London, just as it was dug up out of the earth, where it had
been buried by christian natives who probably perished in the
persecutions.  The New Testament bears the date of 1830, the Old
Testament that of 1835.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

IN PRISON--EFFECTS OF A FIRST SIGHT OF TORTURE.

A new day had begun, cattle were lowing on the distant plain, and birds
were chirping their matutinal songs in bush and tree when Mark Breezy,
John Hockins, and James Ginger--_alias_ Ebony--awoke from their uneasy
rest on the prison floor and sat up with their backs against the wall.
Their chains rattled sharply as they did so.

"Well now," said Hockins, gasping forth his morning yawn in spite of
circumstances, "I've many a time read and heard it of other folk, but I
never did think I should live to hear my own chains rattle."

"Right you are, 'Ockins; ob course I's got de same sentiments zactly,"
said the negro, lifting up his strong arm and ruefully surveying the
heavy iron links of native manufacture that descended from his wrist.

Mark only sighed.  It was the first time he had ever been restrained,
even by bolt or bar, much less by manacles, and the effect on his young
mind was at first overwhelming.

Bright though the sun was outside, very little of its light found a
passage through the chinks of their all but windowless prison-house, so
that they could scarcely see the size or character of the place.  But
this mattered little.  They were too much crushed by their misfortune to
care.  For some time they sat without speaking, each feeling quite
incapable of uttering a word of cheer to his fellows.

The silence was suddenly but softly broken by the sound of song.  It
seemed to come from a very dark corner of the prison, in which nothing
could be seen.  To the startled prisoners it sounded like heavenly
music--and indeed such it was, for in that corner sat two Christian
captives who were spending the first minutes of the new day in singing
praise to God.

The three comrades listened with rapt attention, for although the words
were unintelligible, with the exception of the name of Jesus, the air
was quite familiar, being one of those in which English-speaking
Christians are wont to sing praise all the world over.

When the hymn ceased one of the voices was raised in a reverent and
continuous tone, which was obviously the voice of prayer.

Just as the petition was concluded the sun found a loop-hole in the
prison, and poured a flood of light into it which partly illumined the
dark corner, and revealed two men seated on the ground with their backs
against the wall.  They were fine-looking men, nearly naked, and joined
together by means of a ponderous piece of iron above two feet long, with
a heavy ring at either end which encircled their necks.  The rings were
so thick that their ends must have been forced together with
sledge-hammer and anvil after being put round the men's necks, and then
overlapped and riveted.  Thus it became impossible to free them from
their fetters except by the slow and laborious process of cutting them
through with a file.  Several old and healed-up sores on the necks and
collar-bones of both men indicated that they and their harsh couplings
had been acquainted for a long time, and one or two inflamed spots told
all too clearly that they had not yet become quite reconciled.  _See
Note 1_.

"Now isn't that awful," said John Hockins in a low voice with a sort of
choke in it, "to think that these poor fellows--wi' that horrible thing
that can't be much under thirty pounds weight on their necks, an' that
must ha' bin there for months if not for years--are singin' an' prayin'
to the Almighty, an' here am I, John Hockins, with little or nothin' to
complain of as yet, haven't given so much as a thought to--"

The choke got the better of our sailor at this point, and he became
suddenly silent.

"Das so!" burst in Ebony, with extreme energy.  "I's wid you dere!  I
tell you what it is, 'Ockins, dem brown niggers is true Kistians, an' we
white folks is nuffin but hipperkrits."

"I hope we're not quite so bad as _that_, Ebony," said Mark, with a sad
smile.  "Nevertheless, Hockins is right--we are far behind these poor
fellows in submission and gratitude to our Maker."

While he spoke the heavy door of the prison opened, and a jailor entered
with two large basins of boiled rice.  The largest he put on the ground
before our three travellers, the other in front of the coupled men, and
then retired without a word.

"Well, thank God for this, anyhow," said Mark, taking up one of the
three spoons which lay on the rice and going to work with a will.

"Just so," responded the seaman.  "I'm thankful too, and quite ready for
grub."

"Curious ting, 'Ockins," remarked Ebony, "dat your happytite an' mine
seems to be allers in de same state--sharp!"

The seaman's appetite was indeed so sharp that he did not vouchsafe a
reply.  The prisoners in the dark corner seemed much in the same
condition, but their anxiety to begin did not prevent their shutting
their eyes for a few seconds and obviously asking a blessing on their
meal.  Hockins observed the act, and there passed over his soul another
wave of self-condemnation, which was indicated by a deprecatory shake of
his rugged head.

Observing it, Ebony paused a moment and said--

"You's an awrful sinner, 'Ockins!"

"True, Ebony."

"Das jist what I is too.  Quite as bad as you.  P'r'aps wuss!"

"I shouldn't wonder if you are," rejoined the seaman, recovering his
spirits somewhat under the stimulating influence of rice.  The recovery
was not, however, sufficient to induce further conversation at the time,
for they continued after that to eat in silence.

They had scarcely finished when the jailor returned to remove the dish,
which he did without word or ceremony, and so quickly that Ebony had to
make a sudden scoop at the last mouthful; he secured it, filled his
mouth with it, and then flung the spoon at the retiring jailor.

"That was not wise," said Mark, smiling in spite of himself at the
tremendous pout of indignation on the negro's face; "the man has us in
his power, and may make us very uncomfortable if we insult him."

"Das true, massa," said Ebony, in sudden penitence, "but if dere's one
thing I can't stand, it's havin' my wittles took away afore I'm done wid
'em."

"You'll have to larn to stand it, boy," said Hockins, "else you'll have
your life took away, which'll be wuss."

The probability of this latter event occurring was so great that it
checked the rise of spirits which the rice had caused to set in.

"What d'ee think they'll do to us, sir?" asked the sailor, in a tone
which showed that he looked up to the young doctor for counsel in
difficulty.  The feeling that, in virtue of his education and training,
he ought to be in some sort an example and guide to his comrades in
misfortune, did much to make Mark shake off his despondency and pluck up
heart.

"God knows, Hockins, what they will do," he said.  "If they were a more
civilised people we might expect to be let off easily for so slight an
offence as rescuing a supposed criminal, but you remember that Ravonino
once said, when telling us stories round the camp-fire, that
interference with what they call the course of justice is considered a
very serious offence.  Besides, the Queen being in a very bad mood just
now, and we being Christians, it is likely we shall be peculiarly
offensive to her.  I fear that banishment is the least we may count on."

"It's a hard case to be punished for bein' Christians, when we hardly
deserve the name.  I can't help wonderin'," said the seaman, "that Lovey
should have bolted as he did an' left us in the lurch.  He might at
least have taken his risk along with us.  Anyhow, he could have spoke up
for us, knowin' both lingos.  Of course it was nat'ral that, poor Mamba
should look after number one, seem that he was in no way beholden to us;
but Lovey was our guide, an' pledged to stand by us."

"I can't help thinking," said Mark, "that you do injustice to Laihova.
He is not the man to forsake a comrade in distress."

"That was my own opinion," returned the sailor, "till I seed him go slap
through yon port-hole like a harlequin."

"P'r'aps he tink he kin do us more service w'en free dan as a prisoner,"
suggested Ebony.

"There's somethin' in that," returned Hockins, lifting his hand to
stroke his beard, as was his wont when thoughtful.  He lifted it,
however, with some difficulty, owing to the heavy chain.

They were still engaged in conversation about their prospects when the
prison-door again opened, and two men were ushered in.  Both wore white
lambas over their other garments.  One was tall and very dark.  The
other was comparatively slender, and not so tall as his companion.  For
a moment the strangers stood contemplating the prisoners, and Mark's
attention was riveted on the smaller man, for he felt that his somewhat
light-coloured and pleasant features were not unfamiliar to him, though
he could not call to mind where or when he had seen him.  Suddenly it
flashed across him that this was the very man to whose assistance he had
gone, and whose wounds he had bound up, soon after his arrival in the
island.

With a smile of recognition, Mark rose and extended his hand as far as
his chain permitted.  The young native stepped forward, grasped the
hand, and pressed it warmly.  Then he looked round at his tall
companion, and spoke to him in his own tongue, whereupon the tall man
advanced a step, and said in remarkably bad English--

"You save me frind life one taime ago.  Ver' good--him now _you_ save."

"Thank him for that promise," said Mark, greatly relieved to find at
least one friend among the natives in his hour of need.

"But," continued the Interpreter, "you muss not nottice me frind nowhar.
Unerstand?"

"Oh yes, I think I do," returned Mark, with an intelligent look.  "I
suppose he does not wish people to think that he is helping or favouring
us?"

"That's him! you's got it!" replied the Interpreter, quite pleased
apparently with his success in the use of English.

"My!" murmured Ebony to Hockins in an undertone, "if I couldn't spoke
better English dan dat I'd swaller my tongue!"

"Well--good-boy," said the Interpreter, holding out his hand, which Mark
grasped and shook smilingly, as he replied, "Thank you, I'm glad you
think I'm a good-boy."

"No, no--not that!" exclaimed the Interpreter, "good _day_, not good
_boy_; good-night, good morning!  We goes out, me an' me frind.  Him's
name Ravelo."

Again Ravelo shook hands with Mark, despite the rattling chain, nodded
pleasantly to him, after the English fashion, and took his departure
with his tall friend.

"Well now, I do think," remarked Hockins, when the door had closed
behind them, "that Rav--Rave-what's-his-name might have took notice of
me too as an old friend that helped to do him service."

"Hm! he seemed to forgit _me_ altogidder," remarked the negro,
pathetically.  "Dere's nuffin so bad as ingratitood--'cept lockjaw: das
a little wuss."

"What d'ee mean by lockjaw bein' wuss?" demanded Hockins.

"W'y, don't you see?  Ingratitood don't _feel_ `thankee,' w'ereas
lockjaw not on'y don't feel but don't even _say_ `thankee.'"

A sudden tumult outside the prison here interrupted them.  Evidently a
crowd approached.  In a few minutes it halted before the door, which was
flung open, and four prisoners were thrust in, followed by several
strong guards and the execrations of the crowd.  The door was smartly
slammed in the faces of the yelling people, and the guards proceeded to
chain the prisoners.

They were all young men, and Mark Breezy and his friends had no doubt,
from their gentle expression and upright bearing, that they were not
criminals but condemned Christians.

Three of them were quickly chained to the wall, but the third was thrown
on his back, and a complex chain was put on his neck and limbs, in such
a way that, when drawn tight, it forced his body into a position that
must have caused him severe pain.  No word or cry escaped him, however,
only an irrepressible groan when he was thrust into a corner and left in
that state of torture.

The horror of Mark and his comrades on seeing this done in cold blood
cannot be described.  To hear or read of torture is bad enough, but to
see it actually applied is immeasurably worse--to note the glance of
terror and to hear the slight sound of the wrenched joints and stretched
sinews, followed by the deep groan and the upward glare of agony!

With a bursting cry of rage, Hockins, forgetting his situation, sprang
towards the torturers, was checked by his fetters, and fell with a heavy
clang and clatter on the floor.  Even the cruel guards started aside in
momentary alarm, and then with a contemptuous laugh passed out.

Hockins had barely recovered his footing, and managed to restrain his
feelings a little, when the door was again opened and the Interpreter
re-entered with the jailor.

"I come--break chains," said the former.

He pointed to the chains which bound our travellers.  They were quickly
removed by two under-jailors and their chief.

"Now--com vis me."

To the surprise of the Interpreter, Mark Breezy crossed his arms over
his breast, and firmly said--"No!"  Swiftly understanding his motive,
our seaman and Ebony followed suit with an equally emphatic, "No!"

The Interpreter looked at them in puzzled surprise.

"See," said Mark, pointing to the tortured man in the corner, "we refuse
to move a step till that poor fellow's chains are eased off."

For a moment the Interpreter's look of surprise increased; then an
indescribable smile lit up his swarthy features as he turned to the
jailor and spoke a few words.  The man went immediately to the curled-up
wretch in the corner and relaxed his chains so that he was enabled to
give vent to a great sigh of relief.  Hockins and Ebony uttered sighs of
sympathy almost as loud, and Mark, turning to the Interpreter, said,
with some emotion, "Thank you!  God bless you!  Now we will follow."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1.  The fetters here described may be seen in the Museum of the
London Missionary Society in Blomfield Street, London, along with an
interesting collection of Malagasy relics.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

MAMBA IS SUCCOURED BY ONE OF THE "ANCIENT SOOT," AND FULFILS HIS
MYSTERIOUS MISSION.

When Laihova and Mamba took the reckless "headers" which we have
described in a former chapter, they tumbled into a court-yard which was
used as a sort of workshop.  Fortunately for them the owner of the house
was not a man of orderly habits.  He was rather addicted to let rubbish
lie till stern necessity forced him to clear it away.  Hence he left
heaps of dust, shavings, and other things to accumulate in heaps.  One
such heap happened to lie directly under the window, through which the
adventurous men plunged, so that, to their immense satisfaction, and
even surprise, they came down soft and arose unhurt.

Instantly they slipped into an outhouse, and there held hurried converse
in low tones.

"What will you do now?" asked Laihova.

"I will remain where I am till night-fall, for I dare not show myself
all bruised like this.  When it is dark I will slip out and continue my
journey to the coast."

"To Tamatave?" asked Laihova, naming the chief seaport on the eastern
side of Madagascar.

"Yes, to Tamatave."

"Do you go there to trade?"

"No.  I go on important business."

It was evident that, whatever his business might be, Mamba, for reasons
best known to himself, resolved to keep his own counsel.  Seeing this,
his friend said--

"Well, I go to the eastward also, for Ravoninohitriniony awaits me
there; but I fear that our English friends will be thrown into prison."

"Do you think so?" asked Mamba, anxiously.  "If you think I can be
helpful I will give up my important business and remain with you."

"You cannot help us much, I think.  Perhaps your presence may be a
danger instead of a help.  Besides, I have friends here who have power.
And have we not God to direct us in all things?  No, brother, as your
business is important, go."

Mamba was evidently much relieved by this reply, and his friend saw
clearly that he had intended to make a great personal sacrifice when he
offered to remain.

"But now I must myself go forth without delay," continued Laihova.  "I
am not well-known here, and, once clear of this house, can walk openly
and without much risk out of the city.  Whatever befalls the Englishmen,
Ravoninohitriniony and I will help and pray for them."

Another minute and he was gone.  Passing the gates without arousing
suspicion, he was soon walking rapidly towards the forest in which his
friend Ravonino lay concealed.

Meanwhile, Mamba hid himself behind some bags of grain in the outhouse
until night-fall, when he sallied boldly forth and made his way to the
house of a friend, who, although not a Christian, was too fond of him to
refuse him shelter.

This friend was a man of rank and ancient family.  The soot hung in long
strings from his roof-tree.  He was one of "the ancient soot!"

The houses in the city are usually without ceiling--open to the
ridge-pole, though there is sometimes an upper chamber occupying part of
the space, which is reached by a ladder.  There are no chimneys,
therefore, and smoke from the wood and grass fires settles upon the
rafters in great quantities inside.  As it is never cleared away, the
soot of course accumulates in course of time and hangs down in long
pendants.  So far from considering this objectionable, the Malagasy have
come to regard it with pride; for, as each man owns his own house, the
great accumulations of soot have come to be regarded as evidence of the
family having occupied the dwelling from ancient times.  Hence the "old
families" are sometimes complimented by the sovereign, in proclamations,
by being styled "the ancient soot!"

The particular Ancient Soot who accorded hospitality that night to Mamba
was much surprised, but very glad, to see him.  "Have you arrived?" he
asked, with a good deal of ceremonial gesticulation.

"I have arrived," answered Mamba.

"Safely and well, I hope."

"Safely and well," replied Mamba--ceremonially of course, for in reality
he had barely arrived with life, and certainly not with a sound skin.

"Come in, then," said the Ancient Soot.  "And how are you?  I hope it is
well with you.  Behold, spread a mat for him, there, one of you.  And is
it well with you?"

"Well indeed," said Mamba once again, falsely but ceremonially.

"May you live to grow old!" resumed Soot.  "And you have arrived safely?
Come in.  Where are you going?"

"I'm going yonder--westward," replied Mamba, with charming conventional
vagueness, as he sat down on the mat.

"But it appears to me," said Ancient Soot, passing from the region of
compliment into that of fact, and looking somewhat closely at his
friend, "it seems to me that you have been hurt."

Mamba now explained the exact state of the case, said that he required a
good long rest, after that a hearty meal, then a lamba and a little
money, for he had been despoiled of everything he had possessed by the
furious crowd that so nearly killed him.

His kind host was quite ready to assist him in every way.  In a few
minutes he was sound asleep in a little chamber on the rafters, where he
could rest without much risk of disturbance or discovery.

All next day he remained in hiding.  When it began to grow dusk his host
walked with him through the streets and through the gates, thus
rendering his passage less likely to be observed--for this particular
Ancient Soot was well-known in the town.

"I will turn now.  What go you to the coast for?" asked his friend, when
about to part.

"You would laugh at me if I told you," said Mamba.

"Then tell me not," returned his friend, with much delicacy of feeling,
"for I would be sorry to laugh at my friend."

Thus they parted.  Ancient Soot returned to the home of his forefathers,
and Mamba walked smartly along the road that leads to the seaport of
Tamatave.

He spent that night in the residence of a friend; the next in the hut of
a government wood-cutter.

Felling timber, as might be supposed, was, and still is, an important
branch of industry in Madagascar.  Forests of varied extent abound in
different parts of the country, and an immense belt of forest of two or
three days' journey in width covers the interior of the island.  These
forests yield abundance of timber of different colour and texture, and
of various degrees of hardness and durability.

The wood-cutter, an old man, was busy splitting a large tree into planks
by means of wedges when our traveller came up.  This wasteful method of
obtaining planks is still practised by some natives of the South Sea
Islands.  Formerly the Malagasy never thought of obtaining more than two
planks out of a single tree, however large the tree might be.  They
merely split the tree down the middle, and then chopped away the outside
of each half until it was reduced to the thickness required.  The advent
of the English missionaries, however, in the early part of this century,
introduced light in regard to the things of time as well as those of
eternity-among other things, the pit-saw, which has taught the natives
to "gather up the fragments so that nothing be lost."  Thick planks are
still however sometimes procured in the old fashion.

The wood-cutter belonged to "The Seven Hundred" which constituted the
government corps.  The members of this corps felled timber for the use
of the sovereign.  They also dragged it to the capital, for oxen were
never employed as beasts of burden or trained to the yoke.  The whole
population around the capital was liable to be employed on this
timber-hauling work--and indeed on any government work--without
remuneration and for any length of time!  After the usual exhaustive
questions and replies as to health, etcetera, the old man conducted his
visitor to his hut and set food before him.  He was a solitary old
fellow, but imbued with that virtue of hospitality which is inculcated
so much among the people.

Having replied to the wood-cutter's first inquiry that he was "going
yonder," Mamba now saw fit to explain that "yonder" meant Tamatave.

"I want to see the great Missionary Ellis before he leaves the country."

The wood-cutter shook his head.  "You are too late, I fear.  He passed
down to the coast some weeks ago.  The Queen has ordered him to depart.
She is mad against all the praying people."

"Are _you_ one of the praying people?" asked Mamba, with direct
simplicity.

"Yes, and I know that _you_ are," answered the wood-cutter with a smile.

"How know you that?"

"Did I not see your lips move and your eyes look up when you approached
me on arriving?"

"True, I prayed to Jesus," said Mamba, "that I might be made use of to
help you, or you to help me."

"Then your prayer is doubly answered," returned the old man, "for we can
each help the other.  I can give you food and lodging.  You can carry a
message to Tamatave for me."

"That is well.  I shall be glad to help you.  What is your message?"

"It is a message to the missionary, Ellis, if you find him still there;
but even if he is gone you will find a praying one who can help me.
Long have I prayed to the lord that he would send one of his people here
to take my message.  Some came who looked like praying people, but I was
afraid to ask them, and perhaps they were afraid to speak; for, as you
know, the Queen's spies are abroad everywhere now, and if they find one
whom they suspect of praying to Jesus they seize him and drag him away
to the ordeal of `tangena'--perhaps to torture and death.  But now you
have come, and my prayer is answered.  `He is faithful who has
promised.'  Look here."

The old man went to a corner of the hut, and returned with two soiled
pieces of paper in his hand.

Sitting down, he spread them carefully on his knees.  Mamba recognised
them at once as being two leaves out of a Malagasy Bible.  Soiled, worn,
and slightly torn they were, from long and frequent use, but still
readable.  On one of them was the twenty-third Psalm, which the old
wood-cutter began to read with slow and intense interest.

"Is it not grand," he said, looking up at his young guest with a flush
of joy in his care-worn old face, "to think that after this weary
wood-cutting is over we shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever?
No more toiling and hauling and splitting; above all, no more sin--
nothing but praise and work for Him.  And how hard I could work for
Him!"

"Strange!" said Mamba, while the old man gazed at the two soiled leaves
as if lost in meditation, "strange that you should show this to me.  I
have come--but tell me," he said, breaking off abruptly, "what do you
wish me to do?"

"This," said the old man, pointing to the leaves, as though he had not
heard the question, "is all that I possess of the Word of God.  Ah! well
do I remember the time--many years past now--when I had the whole Bible.
It was such a happy time then--when good King Radama reigned, and the
missionaries had schools and churches and meetings--when we prayed and
sang to our heart's content, and the Bible was printed, by the wonderful
machines brought by the white men, in our own language, and we learned
to read it.  I was young then, and strong; but I don't think my heart
was so warm as it is now!  Learning to read was hard--hard; but the Lord
made me able, and when I got a Bible all to myself I thought there was
nothing more to wish for.  But the good Radama died, and Ranavalona sits
upon his throne.  You know she has burned many Bibles.  Mine was found
and burned, but she did not suspect me.  I suppose I am too poor and
worthless for her to care about!  Perhaps we did not think enough of the
happy times when we had them!  A brother gave me these two leaves.  They
are all that I have left now."

Again the old man paused, and the younger forbore to interrupt his
thoughts.  Presently he looked up, and continued, "When the missionary
Ellis was on his way to the coast I met him and asked for a Bible.  He
had not a spare one to give me.  He was very sorry, but said if I could
find any one going to Tamatave who would carry a Bible back to me, he
would send one.  Now you have come.  Will you see the great missionary,
or, if he is away, find one of the other men of God, and fetch me a
Bible?"

There was a trembling earnestness in the old wood-cutter's voice which
showed how eager he was about the answer.  Mamba readily promised, and
then, after singing and praying together, these like-minded men retired
to rest.

Next morning Mamba pursued his way eastward with rapid step, for he was
anxious--yet with a glad heart, for he was hopeful.  Many things of
interest were presented to his gaze, but though he observed them well he
did not suffer them to turn him aside for a moment from his purpose--
which was to reach Tamatave in the shortest possible time, so as to meet
and converse with the missionary before he should quit the island.

Mamba was of an inquiring disposition.  In ordinary circumstances he
would have paused frequently to rest and meditate and pray.  He would
have turned aside to examine anything peculiar in his track, or even to
watch the operations of a spider, or the gambols of a butterfly; but now
he had "business" on hand, and set his face like a flint to transact it.

The distance from the capital to Tamatave was nearly two hundred miles.
There were dangers in the way.  As we have said, the Queen's spies were
everywhere.  Mamba's wounds and bruises were still sufficiently obvious
to attract attention and rouse curiosity, if not suspicion.

At one part of the journey he came upon some criminals in long chains
which extended from their necks to their ankles.  They were doing work
on the roads under a guard.  He would fain have conversed with these
men, but, fearing to be questioned, turned aside into the shelter of a
plantation and passed stealthily by.

At another place he came to a ferry where, when he was about to enter
the boat, two men stepped in before him whom he knew to be government
officers and suspected to be spies.  To have drawn suddenly back without
apparent reason would have proclaimed a guilty conscience.  To go
forward was to lay himself open to question and suspicion, for he had
prepared no tissue of falsehoods for the occasion.  There was no time
for thought, only for prayer.  He committed his soul to God as he
entered the boat, and then began to converse with the boatman in as easy
and natural a tone of voice as he could assume.  Having to face the
boatman for this purpose enabled him to turn his back upon the
government officers.  Scarce knowing what he said in the perturbation of
his spirit, his first question was rather absurd--

"Did you ever upset in crossing here?" he asked.

"Of course not!" replied the boatman, with a look of offended dignity.

"Ha! then," continued Mamba, who quickly recovered his equanimity, "then
you don't know what it is to feel the teeth of a crocodile?"

"No, I don't, and hope I never shall.  Did you?"

"Oh yes," returned Mamba, "I have felt them."

This was true; for it happened that when he was a little boy, his mother
had taken him down to the side of a river where she had some washing to
do, and while she was not looking the urchin waded in, and a crocodile
made a snap at him.  Fortunately it failed to catch him, but its sharp
teeth grazed his thigh, and left a mark which he never afterwards lost.

"Where did that happen?" asked the boatman, when the other had briefly
stated the fact--for the passage was too short to permit of a story
being told.

"In the Betsilio country."

"That's a long way off."

"Yes, a long way.  I left my old mother there.  I'm going to Tamatave to
buy her a present.  Now, my friend," said Mamba, in a bantering tone, as
the boat ran into the opposite bank, "take care never to upset your
boat, because crocodile teeth are wonderfully sharp!"

Mamba had the satisfaction of hearing the two officers chuckle at his
little joke, and the boatman growl indignantly, as he leaped ashore and
sedately strode away with a sigh of relief and thankfulness for having
made what he deemed a narrow escape.

The road to Tamatave was by no means lonely, for, being the highway from
the seaport to the capital, there was constant traffic both of
travellers and of merchandise.  There were also great droves of cattle
making their way to the coast--for a large part of the wealth of the
chiefs and nobles of the land consists of cattle, which are exported to
the islands of Bourbon and Mauritius, and disposed of to the shipping
that come there for supplies.

At last Mamba reached Tamatave, footsore, worn, and weary, and went
straight to the house of friend--a native of wealth and importance in
the town, and one whom he knew to be a Christian.  From him he learned,
to his great joy, that Mr Ellis had not yet left the place, and that he
hoped to be permitted still to remain there for some time.

It was dark when Mamba arrived, and rather late; but he was too anxious
to transact his "business" to wait till morning.  Having ascertained
where the missionary lived, he went there direct, and was ushered into
his sitting-room.

"You wish to converse with me," said Mr Ellis, in a kind voice, and in
the native tongue, as he placed a chair for his visitor--who, however,
preferred to stand.

"Yes, I come from very far away--from the Betsilio country.  My mother
dwells there, and she is a praying one--a follower of Jesus.  She loves
the Word of God.  I heard that you had brought the Bible to us from your
own land--printed in our language, and so I have come to ask you for a
Bible."

"Have you come all that long journey to procure the Word of God?" asked
the missionary, much interested.

"Yes--that is my business," replied Mamba.

Although Mr Ellis liked the look of his visitor, and was strongly
disposed to believe him, he had too much knowledge of the native
character to place immediate confidence in him.  Besides, the man being
a stranger to him, and possibly one of the government spies, he feared
to comply at once with his request, lest he should hasten his own
banishment from the island.  He replied, therefore, with caution.

"I cannot give you what you want to-night," he said, "but you may call
on me again to-morrow, and I will speak with you."

This answer did not at all satisfy the eager heart of the poor fellow
who had travelled so far and risked so much.  His countenance showed the
state of his feelings so strongly that the sympathetic missionary laid
his hand kindly on his shoulder, bade him cheer up, and asked for his
name as well as the name of some one in Tamatave who knew him.

"Now then, Mamba," he said, as they were about to part, "don't be cast
down.  Come here to see me to-morrow.  Come early."

Comforted a little--more by the missionary's look and tone than by his
words,--Mamba took his departure.

Meanwhile Mr Ellis made inquiries, visited the friend to whom he had
been referred, and found that not only was Mamba a good and true man,
but that many of his family "feared the Lord greatly."

When, therefore, his anxious visitor returned very early the following
morning, he was ready for him.

"I am assured that you are a Christian, Mamba," he said, "as well as
many of your kindred."

"Yes, I love the Lord, and so do many of my kinsmen.  But my family is
large and scattered."

"Have any of them got the Scriptures?"

"They have seen and heard them," returned Mamba, "but all that we
possess are a few pages of the words of David.  These belong to the
whole family.  We send them from one to another, and each, after keeping
them for a time, passes them on, until they have been read by all.  They
are in my hands just now."

"Have you them with you?" asked the missionary.  Mamba did not reply at
once.  He seemed unwilling to answer, but at last confessed that he had.

"Will you not show them to me?  Surely you can trust me, brother!"

Mamba at length made up his mind.  Thrusting his hand deep into his
bosom, he drew a parcel from the folds of his lamba.  This he slowly and
carefully opened.  One piece of cloth after another being unrolled,
there appeared at length a few leaves of the Book of Psalms, which he
cautiously handed to Mr Ellis.

Though it was evident that the greatest care had been taken of that
much-prized portion of Scripture, the soiled appearance of the leaves,
worn edges, and other marks of frequent use--like the two leaves owned
by the wood-cutter--showed how much they had been read.

Even Mamba's anxiety was allayed by the tender way in which the
missionary handled his treasure, and the interest in it that he
displayed.

"Now, my friend," said Mr Ellis, still holding the tattered leaves,
which Mamba seemed anxious to get back, "if you will give me these few
words of David, I will give you _all_ his words; and I will give you,
besides, the words of Jesus, and of John, and Paul and Peter.  See--here
they are."

Saying which, he handed to his visitor a copy of the New Testament and
Psalms, in Malagasy, bound together.

But Mamba did not leap at this gift as might have been expected.  Either
it seemed to him to be too good news to be true, or he was of a
sceptical turn of mind.  At all events he was not satisfied until he had
sat down with the missionary and assured himself that every verse in his
ragged treasure was contained in the presented volume, and a great deal
more besides.  Then he let the old treasure go, and joyfully accepted
the new, which, he said, he was going to carry back to his mother who
greatly longed for it.

Before retiring with it, however, he mentioned his friend the
wood-cutter, whom Mr Ellis remembered well, and gladly gave another
Testament to be taken back to him.  Then, uttering expressions of
fervent gratitude, Mamba left the house.

In the course of that day the missionary inquired after his visitor,
wishing to have further converse with him, but the Christians of
Tamatave told him that Mamba had started off, almost immediately after
quitting him, on his long return journey to Betsilio-land--doubtless
"rejoicing as one that findeth great spoil."

Dust was not allowed to accumulate on the Bibles of Madagascar in those
days!



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE AND SEVERAL SURPRISES.

At the time when Mamba started away on his expedition to Tamatave,
Ravonino, as we have said, lay concealed in the forest, anxiously
awaiting news from the town.  At last the news came--the two white men
and the negro had got involved in a row, and were in prison!

So said Laihova on entering the cave and seating himself, weary, worn,
and dispirited, on a ledge of rock beside his friend, to whom he related
all that had befallen.

"Give not way to despondency," said Ravonino, though he could not smooth
the lines of anxiety from his own brow.  "Does not the Lord reign?  Let
the earth rejoice!  No evil can befall unless permitted, and then it
will surely work for good.  Let us now consider what is to be done.  But
first, we will pray."

In the gloom of the cavern the two men went down on their knees, and, in
very brief but earnest sentences, made known their wants to their
Creator.

"It is useless to remain here idle," said the guide, as they resumed
their seat on the ledge.

"It is useless to go into the town," returned Laihova.  "I am known now
as one of those who aided Mamba to escape."

"But I am not known--at least not in my present guise," said Ravonino.
"Have you seen Rafaravavy?"

"No; I tell you we had not been long in the town when this mischance
befell."

"Did not Mamba tell you why he has undertaken so long a journey?"

"He did not, but I can guess," answered Laihova, with a slight smile.
"The night before we left our friends in the cave in Betsilio-land I
heard his mother urging him to accompany us to the capital and fetch
her, if possible, a copy of the Word of God.  She was joined in her
persuasions by my sister Ramatoa, and you know he loves Ramatoa.  I have
no doubt that the two overcame his objections."

"Do you know why he objected?" asked Ravonino.

"He _said_ that he was afraid to quit his mother and the others at a
time when she might sorely need his protection, but other motives may
have influenced him."

"If he _said_ it he _meant_ it," returned the guide, with some decision,
"for Mamba is open and true of heart.  No doubt he had other motives,
but these were secondary.  God grant him success and safe deliverance
from the hands of his enemies!"

"Amen!" responded Laihova.

For some time the two friends sat there in silence, meditating as to
what they should do in the circumstances, for each felt that action of
some sort was absolutely necessary.

"My friend," said the guide at last, "it seems to me that the Lord
requires me at this time to go with my life in my hand, and give it to
Him if need be.  I have led these Englishmen into danger.  I must do my
best to succour them.  Rafaravavy also is in great danger of losing her
life--for the Queen's fondness for her may not last through the
opposition to her will which she is sure to meet with.  At all risks I
will enter the town and try to meet with Rafaravavy.  But you, my
friend, have no need to run so great a risk.  The Englishmen have no
claim upon you.  My sister Ra-Ruth, as well as the other banished ones,
need your arm to defend them, all the more that Mamba has left for a
time.  I counsel you to return to the Betsilio country and leave me.
There is no fear.  I am in the hands of God."

For a few moments Laihova was silent.  Then he spoke, slowly.  "No.  I
will not leave you.  Are not our friends also in the hands of God?  For
them, too, there is no fear.  At present they are far from danger and in
safe hiding, for even the outlaws--the robbers who infest the forests--
understand something of their case; they have sympathy and will not
molest them.  Besides all that, Ravoninohitriniony, is there not the
Blood-covenant between you and me?  No, I will _not_ leave you!  Where
you go I will go, and if you die I will not live!"

Seeing that his friend's mind was made up, the guide made no further
effort to influence him, and both men prepared themselves to go to the
city.

We return now to our friends Mark Breezy, John Hockins, and James
Ginger, whom we left in the act of quitting their prison after being the
means of obtaining some extension of mercy to an unfortunate sufferer
whom they left behind them there.

The Interpreter led them up several steep streets, and finally brought
them to a court-yard in which were several small houses.  Into one of
these he ushered them, having previously pointed out to them that the
building occupied a prominent position not far from the great palace of
the Queen.

"So--if you out goes--git losted--know how to finds you'self agin!"

"Das so," said Ebony.  "You's a clibber man."

"Now you stop," continued the Interpreter, paying no attention to the
remark, "for git some--some--vik--vik--vikles--eh?"

"Vikles!" repeated Mark, with a puzzled air.

"Yis--yis--vikles," repeated the Interpreter, nodding his head, smiling,
opening his mouth very wide, and pointing to it.

"P'r'aps he means victuals," suggested Hockins.

"Yis--yis--jus' so--vittles," cried the Interpreter, eagerly, "wait for
vittles.  Now--good-boy--by-by!" he added, with a broad grin at his
blunder, as he left the room and shut the door.

The three friends stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds in
silence, looked at each other, and smiled dubiously.

"Let's see if we really _are_ free to go and come as we choose," said
Mark, suddenly stepping to the door and trying it.  Sure enough it was
open.  They passed out and went a short distance along the street, in
which only a few natives were moving about.  These, strange to say,
instead of gazing at them in idle curiosity, seemed to regard them with
some show of respect.

"Hold on, sir," said Hockins, coming to an abrupt halt, "you know that
feller told us to wait for victuals, and I am uncommon disposed for them
victuals; for, to say truth, the trifle of rice they gave us this
mornin' was barely enough to satisfy an average rat.  Better come back
an' do as we're bid.  Obedience, you know, is the first law of natur'."

"Das w'at I says too.  Wait for de wittles."

"Agreed," said Mark, turning on his heel.

On reaching the house they found that two slaves had already begun
preparations for the hoped-for feast.  In a few minutes they had spread
on the mat floor several dishes containing rice, mingled with bits of
chicken and other meats, the smell of which was exceedingly appetising.
There was plain beef also, and fowls, and cooked vegetables, and fruits
of various kinds, some of which were familiar to them, but others were
quite new.

Slaves being present, our three travellers did not give full and free
expression to their feelings; but it was evident from the way that
Hockins smacked his lips and Ebony rolled his tongue about, not to
mention his eyes, and Mark pursed his mouth, that they were smitten with
pleased anticipation, while the eyes of all three indicated considerable
surprise!

There were no knives or forks--only horn spoons for the rice; but as
each man carried a large clasp-knife in his pocket, the loss was not
felt.

In any other circumstances the singularity and unexpected nature of this
good treatment would have stirred up the fun of Ebony and the latent
humour of Hockins, but they could not shake off the depression, caused
by the memory of what they had seen in the prison--the heavy iron
collars and the cruel binding chains.  They tried to put the best face
possible on it, but after a few faint sallies relapsed into silence.
This, however, did not prevent their eating a sufficiently hearty meal.

"There's no sayin' when we may git the chance of another," was Hockins's
apologetic remark as he helped himself to another fowl.

"It is very mysterious that we should receive such treatment," said
Mark.  "I can only account for it by supposing that our friend Ravelo is
an officer of some power.  If so, it was doubly fortunate that we had
the opportunity of doing him a good turn."

"Now, you leave dem two drumsticks for me, 'Ockins," said Ebony, wiping
his mouth with the back of his hand.  "You'll do yourself a injury if
you heat de whole ob 'im."

"Well, I must confess to bein' surprised summat," said the seaman,
referring to Mark's observation, not to Ebony's.

They were destined to receive some additional surprises before that day
was over.  The meal which they had been discussing was barely finished
when their friend the Interpreter again entered and bade them follow
him.

"Queen Ranavalona wish sees you," he said.

"What! all on us?" exclaimed Hockins, with elevated eyebrows.

"Yis--all."

"Oh! nonsense," he cried, turning to Mark.  "It must be you, doctor, she
wants to see.  What can she want with a or'nary seaman like me?"

"Or a extraor'nary nigger like me?" said Ebony, with a look of extreme
contempt.

"You kin stop in house if you choose," remarked the Interpreter, with a
quiet grin, "but you heads be splitted if you do."

"Then I think I'll go," said Hockins, quietly.

"Me too," remarked the negro.

Accordingly they all went--with a slight qualm, however, for they felt
slightly doubtful whether, under existing circumstances, they might not
after all be going to execution.

The royal palaces, to which they were led, occupy a very conspicuous and
commanding position on the summit of the hill, and stand at an elevation
of more than 500 feet above the surrounding plains.  They are
conspicuously larger than any of the other houses in the city, are
grouped together in a large court-yard, and number about a dozen
houses--large and small.  The chief palace, named Manjaka-Miadana, is
about 100 feet long by 80 broad, and 120 high to the apex of its lofty
roof.  A wide verandah, in three stories, runs all round it.  All is
painted white except the balustrade.  The building next in size to this
is the Silver House.  On the eastern side of the court-yard are the
palace gardens, and around it stand a number of houses which are the
residences of the chief officers of the army, the Secretaries of State,
and other members of the Government.

On reaching the palace gate two young officers approached to receive the
visitors.  They were dressed in splendid European regimentals, much
bedecked with gold-lace, tight-fitting trousers, Wellington boots, sash,
sword, and cocked hat, all complete!  One of these, to their surprise,
spoke English remarkably well.

"I learned it from the missionaries when I was leetle boy," he explained
to Mark, as he conducted the visitors through the archway and across the
spacious court-yard into the palace.  In the second storey of the
verandah the Queen was seen seated beneath that emblem of royalty the
scarlet umbrella, with her Court around her.  Before entering the court
the visitors had removed their hats.  They were now directed to make a
profound reverence as they passed, and proceeded along the side of the
building to the further end.

A line of native troops was drawn up across the court, but these wore no
uniform, only the lamba wound round their waists, and white cross-belts
on their naked bodies.  They were armed with the old flint-lock muskets
and bayonets of the period.

Their conductor, who was an Under-Secretary of State, led them by a dark
narrow stair to the balcony where the Queen sat, and in a few moments
they found themselves in the presence of the cruel Ranavalona, of whom
they had heard so much.

She did not look cruel at that time, however.  She was dressed in a rich
satin gown, over which she wore the royal scarlet lamba, and jewels of
various kinds ornamented her person.  She was seated in a chair raised
two or three steps above the floor, with her ladies on one side and her
gentlemen on the other.  The former, among whom were some really
good-looking brunettes, had all adopted the English fashion of dress,
with parts of native costume retained.  Some wore head-dresses of
gorgeous colouring, composed of ribbons, flowers, and feathers in great
profusion, but as no head-dress, however strongly marked by barbaric
splendour, can excel the amazing feminine crests in present use among
the civilised, we refrain from attempting description!  Most of the men
also wore European costume, or portions thereof, some being clad in
suits of black broad-cloth.

The amount of ceremony displayed on all hands at Court seemed to have
infected our three adventurers, for, when led before the Queen, they
approached with several profound bows, to which Hockins added the
additional grace of a pull at his forelock.  In this he was imitated by
Ebony.

For some moments Ranavalona eyed her visitors--perhaps we should say her
captives--sternly enough, but there was also a slight touch of softness
in her expression, from which Mark drew much comfort; in silence, for as
yet the Queen had given no indication, as to whether the new-comers were
to be treated as friends or spies, and the recent banishment of the
missionaries, and harsh treatment of Europeans by the Queen, left their
minds in some doubt on the point.

Turning to the Secretary who had introduced the party, Ranavalona spoke
to him a few words.  When she had finished, the Secretary turned to
Mark, whom he at once recognised as the chief and spokesman of the trio.

"Queen Ranavalona bid me ask where you comes from," he said.

To which Mark replied that they came from England, that they were all
English subjects, though one was an African by descent.

"I have heard," continued the Queen, through her interpreter, "that you
have been shipwrecked, that one of your number is a Maker of Medicine,
and that you helped one of my people--even saved his life--soon after
your arrival in my country.  Is that so?"

Mark explained that they had not been shipwrecked, but had been left on
shore, and obliged to fly from the natives of the coast; that he was
indeed a maker of medicine, though his training had not been quite
completed when he left England, and that he had rendered a trifling
service to an unfortunate man who had slipped in climbing a cliff, but
he could hardly be said to have saved the man's life.

While he was speaking, Mark observed that his friend Ravelo stood close
to the Queen's chair, in front of a group of officers, from which
circumstance he concluded that he must be a man of some note, and that
it was he who had procured the deliverance of himself and his friends
from prison.

"Tell the young Maker of Medicine," said the Queen, in a loud voice, so
that all the Court might hear, "that Europeans have behaved very ill
here of late, so ill that they had to be banished from my country; for
I, Ranavalona, permit no one, whether his face be black, brown, or
white, to meddle with my government.  They fancied, I suppose, that
because I am a woman I am weak and ignorant, and unable to rule!  They
have now found their mistake, and Christians shall not again be
permitted to dwell in my country.  But I am Ranavalona, and I will do
what I please.  If I choose to make an exception I will do it.  If any
one thinks to oppose my will he shall die.  The man whose life was saved
by this young Maker of Medicine is my son Rakota--my beloved son.  Is it
not so?"

The Queen looked round as she spoke, and the man whom we have hitherto
styled Ravelo bent his head and replied, "It is so," whereupon there
were murmurs of surprise and approval among the courtiers.

"Now," continued the Queen, "as I am grateful, and as I want a physician
at Court just now, I appoint this young Maker of Medicine to that post,
and I appoint his black companion to be his servant.  Do you all hear
that?"

All the courtiers made murmurs of assent.

"Tell them all that, Secretary," said the Queen.

Mark Breezy and his friends had considerable difficulty in concealing
their astonishment when "all that" was explained to them, but they had
the presence of mind to acknowledge the information with a profound
obeisance.  At the same time Mark explained, with much modesty, that he
was not entitled to aspire to or to accept so high and honourable a
position, as he had not yet obtained the standing which entitled him to
practise in his own country.

"Tell him," said the Queen, sternly, "that I, Ranavalona, have nothing
to do with the customs of England, and have no regard for them.  If he
does not accept what I offer, instant banishment--perhaps worse--will be
his portion!"

"Oh! massa, accep' him _at once_!" murmured Ebony in an undertone, and
in much anxiety.

Mark took his advice, and agreed to become Physician to the Court of the
Queen of Madagascar, without stipulating either as to salary or
privileges!

"I am also told," said the Queen, with a smile of condescension to her
physician, "that your English companion is full of music, and performs
on a wonderful little instrument.  I have a good band, which was trained
by your countrymen, but they have no such little instrument.  Let the
Man of the Sea perform."

On this being translated Mark looked at the Man of the Sea, and could
with difficulty restrain a burst of laughter at the expression of his
countenance.

"What!" exclaimed Hockins, "me play my whistle afore this here Court?
Unpossible!"

"You'll have to try," said Mark, "unless you wish for instant
banishment--or something worse!"

"Oh!  'Ockins, blaze away at _once_!" murmured Ebony, with renewed
anxiety, for the "something worse" was to him suggestive of
imprisonment, torture, and death!

Thus pressed, the seaman put his hand into the inner pocket of his
jacket and drew forth his cherished flageolet.  In a few minutes the
Queen and all her courtiers were enthralled by the music.  It was not
only the novelty and bird-like sweetness of the instrument itself that
charmed, but also the fine taste and wonderful touch of the sailor.  The
warbling notes seemed to trill, rise and fall, and float about on the
atmosphere, as it were, like fairy music, filling the air with melody
and the soul with delight.

"Good! let the Man of the Sea be also cared for.  Give them quarters in
the palace, and see that they all attend upon us in the garden
to-morrow."

So saying, the Queen arose, swept into the palace, and left her
courtiers to follow.

Immediately Prince Rakota came forward and shook hands with Mark.

"So then, your Highness," said the latter, "_we_ are indebted to you for
all this kindness."

"It is only one small ting," returned the Prince in broken English.  "Am
I not due to you my life?  Come, I go show you your house."

On the way, and after entering the house which was appropriated to their
use, Mark learned from the Prince that their approach to the capital had
been discovered and announced by spies long before their arrival; that
it was they who had discovered and revealed to the Queen Hockins's
wonderful powers with the "little tube."  Also that it was well-known
who had guided them through the country, and that Ravoninohitriniony was
being diligently sought for in his hiding-places.

This last piece of information filled the three friends with deep
concern and anxiety.

"He has been so _very_ kind to us," said Mark, "and I know is one of the
most generously disposed and law-respecting subjects of her Majesty."

"That not help for him if he tumbles into the hands of my mother," said
the Prince, sadly.  "He is a Christian.  He has run to the forest, and
has made others to fly."

"But you have much power with the Queen," pleaded Mark, "could you not
induce her to pardon him?"

"Yes--if he will give up Christianity--if not do that--no!"

"That he will never do," said Mark, firmly.  "I know him well.  He will
rather die than deny Christ."

"He is likely to die then," returned Rakota, "for my mother is fixed to
root up the religion of Jesus from the land."

"But surely _you_ don't agree with her," broke in Hockins at this point.

"No, I not agree," said the Prince.  "But I can not command the Queen.
Some time it very hard to move her even a leetle.  My only power with
her is love."

"Das de greatest power in de world!" chimed in Ebony.

"It is," returned the Prince, "and you be very sure I use the power much
as I can for save your friend."



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A MALAGASY GARDEN PARTY--THE CLOUD GROWS BLACKER.

The garden party is by no means a novelty of the present day.  In the
early part of this century--if not much earlier--Malagasy sovereigns
seem to have been wont to treat their Court and friends to this species
of entertainment.

The order which the Queen had given that her European visitors should
attend upon her in the garden, was neither more nor less than an
invitation to a garden party, or pic-nic, to be held the following day
at one of her surburban retreats named Anosy, about half-a-mile from the
city.  Accordingly, early in the morning--for the Malagasy are early
risers--their friend the Interpreter came to conduct them to the spot,
with a gift of a striped lamba for each of the white men.

"Why she not send one for _me_?" demanded Ebony, pouting--and Ebony's
pout was something to take note of!

"'Cause you're black and don't need no clothing," said Hockins,
awkwardly attempting to put the lamba on his broad shoulders.

"Humph! if she knowed what splendid lobscouse an' plum duff I kin make,"
returned the negro, "Ranny Valony would hab sent me a silk lamba an'
made me her chief cook.  Hows'ever, dere's a good time comin'.  I s'pose
I ain't to go to the party?"

"Yis--you muss go.  All of you got to go.  Kill-deaded--if you don't
go."

"I'm your man, den, for I don't want to be deaded yet a while; moreover,
I want to see de fun," returned the negro.

Meanwhile the Interpreter showed them how to put on the lamba--with one
end of it thrown over the left shoulder, like the Spaniard's cloak,--and
then conducted them to the palace, where they found three palanquins--or
chairs supported by two staves--awaiting them.  Getting into them they
set off, preceded by the Interpreter in a similar conveyance.  Ebony and
his bearers brought up the rear.

The Queen and her Court had already started some time.  Our party soon
reached the scene of festivities, at the south-east of the city.  It was
a charming spot, having large gardens laid out in the European style,
with goodly trees overshadowing the pleasure-house of Anosy, and an
extensive lake.  The house was on an island in the lake, and was reached
by a narrow causeway.

At the entrance to the place two enormous letters, "R R," formed in
grass borders that surrounded flower-beds, indicated that Radama Rex,
the first king of that name, had originated those gardens.  And they did
him credit; for he had made great exertions to accumulate there
specimens of the most useful and remarkable trees and plants in the
country--especially those that were of service in _materia medica_.
Some immense camphor-wood trees were among the most conspicuous, and
there were several specimens of a graceful fan-palm, as well as clumps
of the long-leaved Rofia.  The lake was covered in part with a profusion
of purple waterlilies, and was well stocked with gold-fish.  In the
garden and on the upper part of the grounds were luxuriant vines,
besides figs, mangoes, pine-apples, and coffee-plants.

Here, to the strains of an excellent band, hundreds of people, in white
and striped lambas, and various gay costumes, were walking about
enjoying themselves, conversing with animation, or consuming rice,
chickens, and beef, on mats beneath the mango and fig-trees.  Elsewhere
the more youthful and lively among them engaged in various games, such
as racing, jumping, etcetera.

"Come," said their friend of the previous day--the Secretary--to Mark
and his comrades, breaking in on their contemplation of the animated
scene, "the Queen wishes to see you."

Her Majesty, who was dressed in a long robe of muslin, embroidered with
gold, sat near the door of the garden-house, surrounded by her ladies,
who all wore the simple but graceful native dress.  A guard of soldiers
stood near at hand.

The Queen merely wished to ask a few ceremonial questions of her
visitors.  While she was engaged with Hockins and the Secretary, Mark
ventured to glance at the ladies of the Court, among whom he observed
one who made a deep impression on him.  She wore, if possible, a simpler
dress than any of her companions, and no ornaments whatever.  Her
features were well formed, and her rather pensive countenance was very
beautiful.  When they were retiring from the presence of the Queen, Mark
could not resist the temptation to ask the Secretary who she was.

"That," said he, "is our self-willed little Christian, Rafaravavy."

"She does not look very self-willed," returned Mark.

"True, and she is not really so--only in the matter of religion.  I fear
we shall lose her ere long, for she minds not the Queen, and no one who
defies Ranavalona lives long.  But come, let us sit down under this
mango tree and eat.  You must be hungry."

He led them as he spoke to a sequestered spot near a coppice which
partially guarded them from public gaze on three sides, and on the
fourth side afforded them a charming view of the gardens, the gay
assemblage, and the country beyond.

At first both Hockins and Ebony hesitated to sit down to breakfast with
so distinguished a person as an Under-Secretary of State.

"We ain't used, you see, doctor," observed the seaman in a low tone, "to
feed wi' the quality."

"Das so, massa," chimed in Ebony in the same tone; "wittles nebber taste
so pleasant in de cabin as in de fo'c's'l."

"Don't object to _anything_," replied Mark, quickly, "just do as I do."

"Hall right, massa.  Neck or nuffin--I'm your man!"

As for the seaman, he obeyed without reply, and in a few minutes they
were busy with the Secretary over drumsticks and rice.

The free-and-easy sociability of that individual would have surprised
them less if they had known that he had been specially commissioned by
the Queen to look well after them, and gather all the information they
might possess about the fugitive Christians who were hiding in the
forests.

Fortunately our young student was quick-witted.  He soon perceived the
drift of the Secretary's talk, and, without appearing to evade his
questions, gave him such replies as conveyed to him no information
whatever of the kind he desired.  At the same time, he took occasion,
when the Secretary's attention was attracted by something that was going
on, to lay his finger on his lips and bestow a look of solemn warning on
his comrades, the effect of which on their intelligent minds was to make
the negro intensely stupid and the seaman miraculously ignorant!

Now, while our friends are thus pleasantly engaged, we will return to
Rafaravavy, whom we left standing among the Queen's ladies.

Of all the ladies there that little brunette was not only the
best-looking, the sweetest, the most innocent, but also, strange to say,
the funniest; by which we do not mean to say that she tried to be
funny--far from it, but that she had the keenest perception of the
ludicrous, and as her perceptions were quick, and little jokes usually
struck her, in vulgar parlance, "all of a heap," her little explosions
of laughter were instantaneous and violently short-lived.  Yet her
natural temperament was grave and earnest, and her habitual expression,
as we have said, pensive.

Indeed it would have been strange had it been otherwise, considering the
times in which she lived, the many friends whom she had seen sacrificed
by the violence of her royal mistress, and the terrible uncertainty that
hung over her own fate.

After a time the Queen dismissed some of her attendants to ramble about
the grounds,--among them Rafaravavy, who sauntered down one of the
side-walks by herself.

She had not gone far when, on reaching a turn of the road where a small
thicket of shrubs concealed her from the more public part of the garden,
she heard her own name pronounced.

Stopping abruptly, she listened with intense anxiety expressed on her
countenance.

"Rafaravavy!" repeated the voice again, "fear not!"  Next moment the
bushes were turned aside, a man stepped on the path, and Ravonino stood
before her!  He seized her in his arms, and printed a fervent kiss upon
her lips.

"Oh!  Samuel," she said, using her lover's Christian name, which she
naturally preferred, and speaking, of course, in her native tongue, "why
did you come here?  You know that it is death if you are caught."

"I would risk more than death, if that were possible, to see you,
Rafaravavy.  But I come to ask you to fly with me.  Our dear Lord's
counsel is that when we are persecuted we should flee to a place of
safety."

"Impossible!" said the girl, in a tone of decision that made her lover's
heart sink.  "Besides, I am not persecuted.  The Queen is fond of me,
and bears much."

"Fond of you she may well be, my loved one, she cannot help that; but
she is fonder of herself, and the moment you go beyond a certain point
she will order you out to execution.  Has she not done the same sort of
thing before?  She is capable of doing it again.  She will _surely_ do
it again.  Come, dearest! let us fly now--this moment.  I have a lamba
here which will conceal most of your dress.  Arrangements are made with
some of our friends in the Lord to aid us.  Bearers are ready.  I will
guide you to the caverns in the forest where my sister Ra-Ruth is
longing to receive you, where many of your old friends are dwelling in
security, where we worship God, and pray to Jesus, and sing the sweet
old hymns in peace.  Come, dear one! will you not come?"

It was evident that the intense earnestness of the lover was exerting
powerful influence over the affectionate maiden, for she began to waver.

"Oh! do not persuade me thus!" she said.  "I know not what God would
have me do.  But the Queen has been _very_ kind to me in spite of my
religion, and sometimes I have thought that she listens to my pleading.
Perhaps God may use me as the means of bringing her to Jesus.  Think
what that would be--not only to her own soul but to the multitudes who
are now suffering in--"

At that moment footsteps were heard on the gravel walk.  They were
evidently approaching the spot where the lovers stood.  Before Ravonino
could make up his mind to drag her into the thicket by main force,
Rafaravavy had disengaged herself and bounded away.  At the same moment
Ravonino glided into the shrubbery and disappeared.

A few seconds later and Mark Breezy stood on the spot they had quitted.
He was alone.

"Strange!" he muttered to himself, "I am almost certain that she took
this path, and I fancy that the man's voice sounded like that of
Ravonino.  Nothing more natural than that he should ferret her out.  Yet
it seems to have been imagination."

"It was not imagination," said a rather stern voice at Mark's elbow.  He
turned quickly.

"I was sure of it!" he exclaimed.

"If you were so sure of it," said the guide, with a touch of bitterness,
"why did you interrupt us and scare the maiden away?"

"You do me wrong in your thoughts," replied the student, flushing.  "One
of the Queen's secretaries is even at this moment coming along this
track in company with Hockins and Ebony.  While seated at breakfast I
saw Rafaravavy walk in this direction, and somehow I took it into my
head that you would surely meet her here--I know not why I thought so,
unless it be that in like circumstances I myself would have acted the
same part--so I hastened on in advance to warn you.  Hush! do you not
hear their steps?"

"Forgive me," said Ravonino, extending his hand, and grasping that of
his friend.  Then, speaking low and hurriedly, "You are in favour at
Court.  Will you befriend her?"

"I will.  You may depend on me!"

There was no time for more.  Already it was almost too late, for the
guide had barely disappeared in the thicket when his comrades and the
Secretary appeared.

"Hallo! doctor," exclaimed Hockins, "was ye arter a pretty girl that you
bolted so, all of a sudden?"

"Yes, I was," answered Mark promptly.  "I saw one of the Queen's ladies
come in this direction and ran after her!  I suppose there is no harm in
that, Mr Secretary?  You don't forbid men to look at your women, do
you, like the Arabs?"

"Certainly not," replied the Secretary, with a slight smile and a
ceremonial bow.

"Come, then, let us follow the track, we may yet meet her."

So saying, Mark led the way along the path where Rafaravavy had
vanished, not for the purpose of overtaking her, but in order to give
his friend time and opportunity to get out of the thicket unperceived.

On the evening of that same day, after the garden festivities were over,
Queen Ranavalona sat in her palace with a frown on her brow, for,
despite her determination and frequent commands, the Christians in the
town still persisted in holding secret meetings for worship.  Those who
knew her moods saw plainly that she was fanning the smouldering fires of
anger, and that it needed but a small matter to cause them to burst out
into a devouring flame.

While she was in this critical frame of mind an influential courtier
appeared before her.  He seemed to be greatly excited.

"Madam," he said, "I request that a bright and sharp spear may be
brought to me!"

Somewhat surprised at the nature of the request, the Queen asked to know
the reason.

"Madam," continued the courtier, "I cannot but see with grief the
dishonour that is done, not only to our idols but to the memory of your
own predecessors, by the doctrines of these foreigners.  Our ancient
customs are being destroyed and the new faith is spreading on every
hand.  All this is but preparatory to the invasion of Madagascar by
Europeans; and, as I would rather die than see my Queen and country so
disgraced, I ask for a spear to pierce my heart before the evil day
arrives."

This speech had a powerful effect on the Queen.  She began to regard
Christianity as not merely a sacrilege, but a political offence; for
were not people learning to despise the idols of their forefathers and
to cease praying to the royal ancestors, by whom the kingdom had been
established, and under whom the country had become great and powerful?
Might they not eventually despise herself and learn to treat their
living sovereign with contempt?

For some time Ranavalona remained silent, leaning her forehead on her
hand.  Suddenly she looked up with a flushed countenance.

"It is true--all true," she said.  "When I was carried along in
procession to-day did I not hear these Christians singing one of their
hated hymns?  They will not cease till some of them lose their heads.
Have you got with you the formal accusation that was made before my
chief judge yesterday?"

"No, madam, I have not."

"Go.  Fetch it and read it to me."

The courtier bowed, left the apartment, and speedily returned with a
paper containing the accusations referred to.  Unfolding it, he read as
follows:--

"First.  The Christians are accused of despising the idols.  Second.
They are always praying.  Third.  They will not swear, but merely
affirm.  Fourth.  Their women are chaste.  Fifth.  They are of one mind
with regard to their religion.  Sixth.  They observe the Sabbath as a
sacred day."

Strange to say, this catalogue of so-called accusations deeply affected
the queen with grief and rage.

"I swear," she said, with flashing eyes and clenched hands, "that I will
root out this religion of the Europeans if it should cost the life of
every Christian in the land!  Go.  Leave me!"

For a fortnight subsequent to this the palace and Court appeared as if
in mourning for some public calamity.  No band played; no amusements
were allowed, and a dread of impending evil seemed to weigh upon the
spirits of all classes.  During this time, also, measures were taken to
effect the final destruction, as far as possible, of all that had been
done in the country by the teaching of the missionaries and their
converts.

At last the storm burst.  A Kabary, or immense general assembly of the
nation, was called by proclamation at the capital.  The people were only
too well aware of what this signified to doubt that the Queen was
thoroughly in earnest and in one of her worst moods.  With trembling
hearts they hastened to obey the summons.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

A GREAT KABARY IS HELD, FOLLOWED BY DREADFUL MARTYRDOMS.

No rank or age was exempt from attendance at the great assembly.
Soldiers were sent about the city and suburbs to drive the people
towards the place of assembly near the palace, and the living stream
continued to pour onwards until many thousand souls were gathered
together at Imahamasina.

Here a body of troops fifteen thousand strong was posted, and in the
earlier part of the day the cannon along the heights of the city
thundered out a salute to inspire the people with awe and respect for
the royal authority.  The highest civil and military officers were there
in their varied and gay trappings, but Ranavalona herself did not appear
in person.  Her message was conveyed to the people by one of the chief
officers of state.  It was interspersed here and there with the various
titles of the Queen, and was to the following effect:--

"I announce to you, oh ye people!  I am not a sovereign that deceives.
I therefore tell to you what I purpose to do, and how I shall govern
you.  Who, then, is that man who would change the customs of our
ancestors and the twelve sovereigns in this country?  To whom has the
kingdom been left by inheritance, by Impoin, Imerina, and Radama, except
to me?  If any, then, would change the customs of our ancestors, I abhor
that, saith Rabodon-Andrian-Impoin-Imerina."

After a good deal more to much the same effect, the message went on to
say:--

"As to baptisms, societies, places of worship distinct from schools, and
the observance of the Sabbath, how many rulers are there in the land?
Is it not I alone that rule?  These things are not to be done; they are
unlawful in my country, saith Ranavalo-manjaka, for they are not the
customs of our ancestors; and I do not change their customs, excepting
as to things alone that improve my country.  And then, in your worship,
you say `Believe!'  `Follow the Christian customs!' and thus you change
the customs of the ancestors, for you do not invoke all that is sacred
in heaven and earth, and all that is sacred in the twelve sovereigns and
the idols.  And is not this changing the customs of the ancestors?  I
detest that; and I tell you plainly that such things shall not be done
in my country, saith Ranavalo-manjaka.

"Now I decree that all Bibles and books of the new religion shall be
delivered up to be destroyed, that all who are guilty shall come in
classes, according to the nature of their offences, and accuse
themselves of having been baptized, of being members of the church, of
having taught slaves to read--all shall come to the officers and
confess; but those who conceal their offence and are accused by others
shall be subjected to the ordeal of the tangena, and those who resist my
commands shall die, saith Ranavalo-manjaka."

This message was no idle threat.  The people were well aware of that,
and the city was filled with weeping and consternation.

It was while things were in this state that Mamba arrived at
Antananarivo with his precious New Testament and Psalms in the folds of
his lamba.  Although well aware of what had taken place, he recklessly
visited his friends in the city.  From them he learned more particulars,
and saw, when too late, that it would be impossible for him now to pass
out of the gates with the Testament on his person, as the guards had
been cautioned to search every one whom they had the slightest reason to
suspect.

Hearing of the sudden exaltation of his English friends, he formed the
wise resolution to place his treasure in their hands.

Boldness is often successful where timidity would fail.  Without
hesitation, or even consultation with his friends, Mamba went straight
to the palace and demanded permission to visit the Maker of Medicine.
He was allowed to pass and conducted by an official to the quarters of
Mark Breezy, who was seated with Hockins and Ebony at the time.

Great was their surprise at seeing their friend.

"Why, Mamba!  I thought you had gone to Tamatave?" said Mark, shaking
hands heartily with him.

"Yis--yis--I hoed," said Mamba, and then endeavoured to tell something
of his doings in English; but his knowledge of that language was so very
imperfect that they could make nothing of it.  They understood him,
however, when he cautiously and lovingly drew the Testament from its
hiding-place and gave it into Mark's hands.

"What am I to do with it, my poor friend?" said Mark.  "I know that you
have no chance of retaining it, after the decree that has just been
passed."

"Keep 'im--keep--for _me_," said Mamba, anxiously.

"I will do so, if I can, but it may not be possible," answered Mark.

"Yis, keep--safe.  Got 'im for me mudder."

"You're a brick," cried Ebony, enthusiastically grasping the man's hand,
for he had a great love for his own mother, and experienced a gush of
sympathy.

At that moment there was a loud knocking at the door, and Mark had
barely time to slip the Testament into his coat pocket when
Hater-of-lies entered with his silver spear and attendants.  Seizing
hold of poor Mamba, without uttering a word they led him away.

Hockins instantly followed, and Ebony was about to do the same when Mark
laid his hand on his shoulder and checked him.

"What would you do, Ebony?"

"Look arter 'Ockins, massa."

"Hockins is well able to look after himself.  No doubt he has gone to
see where they take Mamba to.  One pair of eyes is enough for that.
Your company would only trouble him."

A few minutes later the seaman returned with the information that the
unfortunate man had been cast into the prison, from which they had been
so recently released.

At this time the Christians in the island possessed numerous entire
copies of the Scriptures, besides a large number of Testaments and
Psalms, and books of a religious character, which, having been secreted,
had escaped the destruction of previous persecutions.  Some of these
were now given up and destroyed.  Many of the more timid among the
natives came forward, as commanded, and accused themselves, thus
escaping punishment; but there were others who would neither give up
their Bibles nor accuse themselves.  Some of these were accused by their
slaves, others by their so-called friends and kindred--in some cases
falsely.

Next day the Prime Minister came to the Queen and reported that one
lady, named Rasalama, who had not accused herself, had been accused by
some of her slaves of attending religious meetings.

"Is it possible," exclaimed the Queen, "that there is one so daring as
to defy me?  Go, let her be put to death at once!"

The intercession of friends of the accused produced no effect on the
Queen, and even the pleading of Prince Rakota failed, in this instance,
to do more than delay the execution for a few days.

Meanwhile Rasalama was cast into prison and loaded with chains.

"Is it not strange," she said to her jailors, "that I should be put in
chains, and some of my friends should be sent to perpetual slavery and
some killed, though we have done no evil?  We have neither excited
rebellion, nor stolen the property of any, nor spoken ill of any--yet we
are treated thus, and our property is confiscated.  It will be wise if
the persecutors think what they do, lest they bring on themselves the
wrath of God.  But I do not fear.  When Hater-of-lies came to my house I
rejoiced that I was counted worthy to suffer affliction for believing in
Jesus."

When this speech was reported to the judges, Rasalama was ordered to be
put into heavier irons and severely beaten.  This cruel order was
carried out; and after her tender limbs had been additionally weighted,
her delicate skin was lacerated with terrible stripes.  Yet her
fortitude never forsook her.  Nay more--through the grace bestowed on
her she actually sang hymns in the midst of her torment!  Sometimes,
indeed, her physical strength failed for a brief space.  At other times
the song of triumph blended with a wail of agony, but she always
recovered to renew the hymn of praise.

Her tormentors were confounded.  This was something quite beyond their
understanding, and their only solution of the mystery was that she must
be under the influence of some powerful charm.  Others there were,
however, who listened to her triumphant songs, and beheld her calm
steadfast countenance with widely different thoughts and feelings.

But the sufferings of this poor creature had not yet terminated.  The
rage of her persecutors was not yet appeased.  Next day the ordinary
chains she wore were exchanged for others, consisting of rings and bars
fastened around her wrists, knees, ankles, and neck, and these, when
drawn together, forced her whole body into a position that caused
intense agony--something like that which we have described as having
been seen by Mark and his comrades in the same prison-house.  In this
posture it was impossible to use the voice in song, but, doubtless, she
was not even then prevented from making melody in her heart to the Lord,
for whose name she suffered so much.  All night long was this terrific
trial endured, but with the dawn of day came relief, for then the chains
were relaxed; and so great was the change that poor Rasalama looked
forward to the fate which she knew awaited her with feelings of joy.

That fate was not long delayed.  Soon they led her out of the prison,
and took the road which conducted towards the southern extremity of the
hill, on which the city stood, where was the tremendous precipice down
which many a criminal and many a Christian martyr had already in
Ranavalona's evil reign been hurled out of Time into Eternity.  Yet this
was not the gate through which Rasalama was to pass into Paradise.  _See
Note 1_.

As she walked along, the poor martyr began again to sing a favourite
hymn.  When passing the place of worship, at that time closed, she
exclaimed, "There have I heard the words of the Saviour."  Hundreds of
people accompanied her.  Some even ventured to whisper words of comfort
to her as she went along, although by doing so they imperilled their own
lives, and one young man, utterly regardless of consequences, walked
boldly by her side, speaking to her of the Saviour, till the place of
execution was reached.

To this spot Mark Breezy and his companions in exile had hastened, for
the Secretary had told them that some of the Christians were about to be
executed, and a fearful suspicion that their friend Mamba might be among
the number impelled them to hasten to the spot with some half-defined
intention of interfering in his behalf.  For they had gradually, and
imperceptibly to themselves, acquired a great liking for the young
native, whose earnest, straightforward, yet playful spirit, together
with his great kindness to his mother, had deeply impressed them during
the brief time they had sojourned together in the forest.

"Will we fight for 'im, massa?" asked Ebony, with anxious looks, as they
ran to the place of execution, which was not far-off.

"That would be useless," answered Mark.  "If we were thirty Samsons
instead of three ordinary men, we could not overcome the Queen's army."

"I've half a mind to try," said Hockins, with something unusually fierce
in his expression.  "Many a man has run a-muck before now.  I've got to
die once at any rate!"

"And what good would that do to Mamba?" asked Mark.  "No, I will try
another plan.  I have fortunately done service to the Queen in saving
the life of her son.  If Mamba is to be martyred, I will throw my arms
round him and ask the Queen in return to spare the life of my friend."

They had by that time mingled with the dense crowd that stood on the
brow of the precipice of Ambohipotsy to witness the execution.  Pushing
to the front with breathless anxiety, they were just in time to see
Rasalama led forward by two men armed with spears.  In front of them was
a shallow ditch, and a little further on the brow of the precipice, from
which was seen a magnificent prospect of the surrounding country.  But
no prospect, however sublime, could have attracted the eyes of the three
friends just then, for in front of them stood two crosses supporting the
bodies of two Christians who had been crucified thereon the day before.
Even these, however, lost their horrible power of fascination, when they
observed the cheerful holy expression of Rasalama's countenance as she
was led to the edge of the ditch which was to be her grave.  The bottom
of that grave was already strewn with the bloody remains and the
bleaching bones of other martyrs who had preceded her.

The crowd, who had followed the procession with imprecations against the
Christians, now ceased to shout.

"Will you allow me a short time to pray?" asked Rasalama of the
executioners.

Her request being granted, she kneeled on the rocky ground, clasped her
hands, and raised to Heaven a look of calm trustfulness, as she held
communion for the last time on earth with her Redeemer.

"Where is the God she prays to that he does not save her now?" whispered
some.  Others held their peace, but laid these things to heart.

While the poor creature was thus engaged, the two executioners, without
warning, thrust their spears deep into her body.  It was the custom of
these men to plunge the spears into the loins of their victims on each
side of the back-bone in such a position that they did not produce
immediate death, but allowed the martyrs to tumble into the ditch and
writhe there in agony for some time with the spears still sticking in
them.  Happily, in the case of Rasalama, the thrusts were--either
intentionally or accidentally--more effective than usual.  After a very
brief struggle, her happy soul was set free to be "for ever with the
Lord."

In that ditch her poor mangled body was left to be devoured by the wild
dogs that frequent all places in Madagascar where criminals suffer.
_See Note 2_.

"Oh, God!" exclaimed Mark, unable to repress a groan.  "Let us quit this
accursed spot."

"Stay, sir, stay," whispered the sailor at his elbow, "you forget Mamba.
More are comin'."

More martyrs were indeed coming, as the singing of hymns proved.

Close on the heels of Rasalama, a band of nine other Christians were
carried to the place of execution, each with his feet and hands tied
together and slung on a pole, the ends of which were borne by two men.
Straw had been stuffed into their mouths to prevent praying or singing,
but several of them, managing to get rid of the straw, burst into the
triumphal songs which had attracted the attention of our seaman.

Arrived at the ditch, the victims were asked if they would give up
praying to Jesus.  In every case the answer was a decided "No!"  They
were then thrust into the ditch, forced down on their knees, and made to
bend forward.  While this was being done, the shuddering friends of
Mamba perceived that he was not among the martyrs.  One by one each
unfortunate was stabbed in the loins, close on either side of the
back-bone, but not one was terrified into recanting, although by so
doing he might have been restored at once to life and liberty.  The
truth of that word, "As thy days thy strength shall be," was clearly and
wonderfully proved in the case of these sufferers.  After all had
fallen, their heads were cut off and placed in a row on the edge of the
ditch.  Five of the nine belonged to one family.

One man who had been reserved to the last, for some reason or other that
was net explained, was led to the brow of the precipice, and the same
question was put to him that had been put to his fellow-martyrs.  From
the spot on which he stood he could look down into the awful gulf, a
sheer descent of sixty feet first to a place where a ledge projected,
and then, a further descent of still greater depth to the bottom, where
the ground was covered with rocks and debris from the cliffs.

Unfaltering in courage and allegiance to the Master, his "No!" was
distinct and decisive.  Next moment he was hurled over.  With terrific
force he struck the ledge, and it must have been a lifeless body that
was finally shattered on the plain below.

As the people immediately began to disperse after this, Mark and his
friends hastened sway from the place with an overwhelming sense of
horror upon them, but thankful as well as relieved to know that their
friend Mamba was not yet among the martyrs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1.  Rasalama was in truth the first martyr of Madagascar.  She was
slain in the year 1837.  We have only transposed the date.  Her story is
given, without variation worthy of mention, from authentic records.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 2.  Close to the spot where the heroic Rasalama knelt to pray and
die, a large Memorial Church now stands, the spire of which forms a
conspicuous object in every distant view of the city.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

MAMBA, SUBJECTED TO THE ORDEAL OF THE "TANGENA," ESCAPES, BUT AFTERWARDS
ACCUSES HIMSELF AND IS CONDEMNED.

If not yet among the martyrs, it was soon evident that Mamba stood a
good chance of being among them before long--and that the mother of whom
he was so fond, and for the gratification of whose spiritual longings he
had risked so much, would probably never receive the Gospel of Peace
from his hands.

While in prison under accusation of being a believer in the religion of
the white man, he had debated much with himself as to what was his duty
in the present distress.  Was he bound to confess Christ and take the
consequence--which, of course, he knew to be death?  To deny Him was out
of the question.  He at once dismissed that idea as untenable.  But was
there no other mode of escape?  Did not the Word itself advise that when
persecuted in one city he was not only entitled but advised to escape to
another?  "But how am I to escape?  Oh God, guide me!" he cried, lifting
his clasped hands as he converted the question into a prayer.

The rattling of his chains seemed to bid him dismiss all hope, but he
did not lose faith.  He continued to pray and meditate.  And the longer
he meditated the more anxiously did he long to be back in the cave
beside his Reni--his humble-minded loving little mother--and beside--
yes, he made no attempt to conceal it from himself--beside the beautiful
queen-like sister of Laihova.  The more he meditated, however, the more
hopeless did his case seem to become.  To lie he would not--not even to
gain Ramatoa.  To die he would _rather_ not!  To escape he could not!

At last he hit upon an idea.  He would refuse to answer.  He would take
refuge in absolute silence!

As might have been expected, this course of policy did not avail him
much.  When it was found that he would not say whether he was a
Christian or not, it was resolved that the matter should be settled by
an appeal to the ordeal of the Tangena.

This used to be a common and much-practised ordeal in Madagascar in days
but recently past.  It consisted in the administration of poison.  Other
ordeals existed in the island--such as passing a red-hot iron over the
tongue, or plunging the naked arm into a large pot of boiling water and
picking out a pebble thrown therein for the purpose of trial.  Alas for
both innocent and guilty subjected to either trial!  But the ordeal most
universally in favour was that of the Tangena.

The Tangena is in fact a poisonous nut about the size of a chestnut
which derives its name from the tree that bears it.  If taken in small
doses it acts as an emetic; if in large doses it kills.  Many pages
would be required to give a full and particular account of all the
Malagasy superstitions connected with the ordeal.  Let it suffice to
say, roughly, that previous to the poison being administered the accused
person is obliged to swallow whole, or rather bolt, three pieces of the
skin of a fowl, about the size of a dollar.  Then the decoction of
Tangena in rice-water is administered.  If given strong it kills, and
the unfortunate is held to have been guilty.  If not too strong, and the
sufferer be able to bear it, vomiting is the result, and the three
pieces of skin are eagerly looked for.  The finding of the pieces proves
the accused to be innocent.  The not finding of them proves him guilty,
and at once, if he be a free man, he is killed, if a slave he is sold,
and got rid of in some distant market.  There was a very complex system
of combined profit and superstition surrounding the whole affair which
it is difficult as well as useless thoroughly to understand, but which
it is easy to see afforded clever scoundrels the means of persecuting,
defrauding, or killing any whom they chanced to dislike, or who stood in
their way.  Of course it was very easy to make the potion strong enough
to kill, or to dilute it with rice-water until it became almost
harmless.

Now, when Mark Breezy heard that Mamba was condemned to swallow the
Tangena he went straight to his friend Rakota.

"Prince Rakota," he said, earnestly, "if your expressions of gratitude
to me are sincere you will save the life of this man."

"I will try," returned the Prince, "but the Queen is very angry just
now!"

When the Prince pleaded for the man's life Ranavalona asked of what he
was accused.

"Of praying to the Christians' God."

"Does he admit the charge?" demanded the Queen sternly.

"No--I believe not."

"Then, let the Tangena decide.  It always speaks the truth.  Our
ancestors thought so, and I will not change the customs of our
ancestors!" said this outrageously conservative queen.

Rakota, however, was a determined man and not easily foiled.  Going
privately to those who had the management of the matter, he made use of
those mysterious arguments with which princes manage to attain their
ends, and afterwards told Mark the result, which was, according to
Hockins, that, "Mamba's grog was to be well-watered!"  As Mark could do
nothing more for his friend he went with his companions to see the
result.

There was another man, accused of stealing, who was to be tested at the
same time.  He was a strong sturdy pugnacious-looking man.

A good deal of ceremonial of course preceded the ordeal.  Among other
things the poison had to be tested on two fowls.  It killed them both
and was deemed too strong.  Being diluted it was tried on two other
fowls, and killed neither.  It was therefore considered rather weak.  At
last, having been reduced to the exact strength which killed one fowl
and only sickened the other, the potion was administered to the reputed
thief, after a long prayer or invocation.  For two hours there was no
result, but at the end of that time the pains began, and increased with
much violence, yet the man maintained his innocence.  His agonies were
soon extreme.  Amidst his torture he solicited medicine, but this was
refused.  His bowels, he said, were writhing as if in knots.  His groans
were awful.  His eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets.  His
countenance assumed a ghastly hue, and his entire frame was convulsed
with torture.  Then he vomited violently, and, fortunately for him, the
three pieces of skin which he had swallowed made their appearance.  He
was at once pronounced innocent and set free.

Poor Mamba had to witness all this before his own turn came.  Once more
he was questioned, but continued dumb.  Then he was made to swallow his
three pieces of skin and to drink the Tangena.

The state of mind of his friends, as they watched him after what they
had just seen, may be conceived but cannot be described.  In Mamba's
case the poison acted differently.  Being well diluted, its effects,
although severe, were not to be compared with those experienced by the
first sufferer.  Still they were bad enough, and vomiting commenced much
sooner.  To the great satisfaction of his friends the three pieces of
skin were ejected, and Mamba, being pronounced innocent, had his fetters
removed and was set free.

But when Mark hastened to congratulate him, what was his surprise to see
the poor fellow clasp his hands and raise them to Heaven, while an
expression of pain--very different from that resulting from physical
suffering--convulsed his features.

"Oh! no, no!" he exclaimed, in a tone of agony, "I am not innocent.  I
am guilty! guilty! _very_ wicked!  I have denied Thee, dear Lord, by my
_looks_, though not with my lips!  Forgive me, O God!"  Then, turning
quickly to the officers of justice, "Here--put on the chains again.  I
_am_ a praying man!  I love the Lord Jesus.  He will save _you_ as well
as me if you will come to Him!"

As this was spoken in the native language our Englishmen did not
understand it, but they had little difficulty in guessing the drift of
it when they saw the officers replace the chains and lead Mamba back to
prison, where the last words the jailor heard as he left him were,
"Mother, mother!  Ramatoa!  I shall never more see your dear faces in
this life--never more!"

But in this Mamba was mistaken, as the sequel will show.

Meanwhile Mark hurried back to the palace and told Rakota what had
occurred.  The Prince was not surprised.  He had mingled much with the
Christians, and knew well the spirit by which they were animated.  He
went at once to the Queen, who was enraged at first by his persistent
pleading, vowed that Mamba should die, and gave orders to that effect.
But on reconsidering the matter she commuted the sentence into life-long
slavery in long chains.

There is usually but brief delay between a sentence and its execution in
Madagascar.  The very next day heavy chains were riveted on Mamba.
These, at one end, were attached to an iron collar round his neck, at
the other end to iron rings round his ankles.  What sailors would call
_the slack_ of these heavy fetters was gathered up in one of the
wearer's hands, and thus carried while he moved about at work.

The poor fellow was first set to work on a piece of road-mending just
outside the city gate, with several others--martyrs and criminals--in
similar condemnation.  And here Mark and his companions met him
unexpectedly before they were aware that the fearful punishment had
begun.

At the time poor Mamba was toiling with pick and shovel.  His heart was
almost broken.  Death he could have faced without flinching, but to be a
life-long slave in galling chains, with the possibility even of seeing
his mother and Ramatoa, without being permitted to go near or speak to
them, was almost more than he could bear.  A deep groan burst from his
overcharged breast as he cried, "Oh Lord Jesus, enable me to bear it!"

It was just then that Ebony observed him and uttered a falsetto cry of
astonishment.

The Secretary, who was conducting Mark and Hockins on a visit to one of
the suburban places of resort, stopped and looked round.

"Dars Mamba, massa!" cried Ebony.

Mark ran to him at once, but was stopped by the guard.  A few words from
the Secretary, however, sufficed, and Mark was allowed to speak to the
slave, which he did through the Secretary.

Despair was in Mamba's every tone and look, for the crushing calamity
was too recent and too tremendous to be borne with equanimity at first.
Yet through it all there ran, as it were, a tiny silver thread of hope.

"For is it not true," he said, "that `with God all things are
possible?'"

"My friend," said Mark in reply, and with a burst of enthusiasm, "I will
save you _somehow_!  Keep a good heart."

Mamba smiled faintly, yet gratefully, as he shook his head, gathered up
the superfluous links of his chain, and resumed his toil.

"How will you save him?" asked the Secretary, with a peculiar
half-amused look, as they walked away.

"I know not," answered Mark.  "But we have a proverb, `Where there's a
will there's a way,' and I have a determined will to save my poor friend
from this slavery.  I will not cease to try--as we say in England, `I
will leave no stone unturned,'--till I have accomplished this thing.
Moreover I will not cease to pray for this end.  Mamba's trust in God
puts me to shame.  Up to this time I have only recognised by name that
Saviour whom this man worships.  God helping me, I will henceforth
follow the Lord!"

To the surprise of the young man the Secretary turned suddenly on him
and grasped his hand, and said in a low voice, as he looked cautiously
round--"It gives me joy to hear you speak so.  I too am a follower of
Jesus.  I tell you this because I know, now, that you will not betray
me.  There are many of us in the palace besides Prince Rakota, but we
dare not speak out, for the Queen is very angry, as you know.  Hush!
Tell it not even to our companions.  Little birds have ears.  If the
Queen suspects any of us, in her present state of mind, she will either
ruin or kill us."

"I have heard something of this," said Mark, "from the friend who guided
us to the capital--"

"I know," interrupted the Secretary, with an intelligent nod.  "It was
Ravoninohitriniony.  He is well-known to us.  He loves Rafaravavy, and
is now in the neighbourhood of the capital, hoping to induce her to fly
with him to the forests.  You are surprised, but you would not be so if
you knew the number of spies that Ranavalona has out everywhere."

"Has my friend Ravonino," (we call him so for brevity), "been seen in--
in--I mean _near_ the city lately?" asked Mark, anxiously.

"Not _in_ the city, certainly," returned the Secretary.  "Bold and
daring though he is, he would scarcely venture that; but he has been
seen and heard of more than once lately."

Mark felt relieved.  It was evident the Secretary neither knew of nor
suspected the fact that Ravonino had actually attended the garden party
and met Rafaravavy almost under the Queen's eyes!  Remembering, however,
that the Prime Minister had sent Soa to pretend to be a Christian, in
order that he might discover the secrets of the Christians, and not
having yet had much experience of the Secretary's character, he resolved
to be very cautious in his reference to Ravonino,--indeed to any one
with whom he had to do.  Acting on this resolve he changed the subject
by asking questions about the extensive rice-grounds around the capital.

The Secretary was of a communicative disposition, and evidently fond of
airing his English.  He willingly followed in conversation wherever the
young doctor chose to lead, and gave him and his friends a great deal of
interesting information as to the manners and customs of the Malagasy
people--their habits, beliefs, and laws.

Among the latter he spoke of a curious fact in regard to criminals which
gave Mark a sudden inspiration!  Hockins afterwards styled it a
"wrinkle."  Ebony called it a "dodge."  But, whatever might be said on
that head, it had the effect of very materially altering the conditions
of some of the personages of this tale, as the following chapters will
show.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE COURT PHYSICIAN PRESCRIBES FOR THE QUEEN--A BLOW-UP, AND MYSTERIOUS
PREPARATIONS FOR TREMENDOUS SURPRISES.

About this time the anger of Queen Ranavalona against the Christians was
so great that she made herself quite ill, and more than once had to send
for her Court Physician, Mark Breezy, to prescribe for her.

Our youthful medico understood her complaint, which was a simple one.
He prescribed much exercise, change of air, and amusement, so as to
distract her mind from the cares of State, and the evil passions to
which she was giving way.  He hoped thus to serve the Christians
indirectly, for he saw clearly that the mere mention of their existence
made her ill.  Some slight administrations of physic, also, coupled with
judicious alterations of diet, put her Majesty in a state of such
excellent health and spirits that she began to entertain quite a warm
regard for her Court Physician, and congratulated herself not a little
on the good fortune which had sent him to the capital.

Thus Mark was enabled to disperse, for a time, the dark cloud which had
been lowering over the land--not, however, in time to prevent many
Christians from being slain, and some even of the officers and ladies of
the palace from being degraded, their honours taken from them, and
themselves and children sold as slaves.

Among the ladies, Rafaravavy had a narrow escape.  For a time her life
seemed to hang by a hair, for she was rebellious as well as fearless,
and _would_ sing her favourite hymns in spite of orders to the contrary!
Love prevailed, however, as in the case of Prince Rakota, and she was
tolerated as a sort of spoilt child.

Being a favourite, Mark of course became a man of power in the capital.
This fact would have raised him a host of enemies had it not been for
the kindness of his disposition and the urbanity of his manners.  When a
strapping powerful young fellow treats every one with respectful
deference, keeps in the background, and neither by word nor look asserts
himself, but, on the contrary, seems to entertain kindly thoughts about
every one, it argues such an absence of selfishness that most people are
irresistibly attracted to him.  Thus, unwittingly, he escaped jealousy
and enmity in a palace where both were rife, and, holding in his hands
as he did, the power to alleviate many of the "ills that flesh is heir
to," he secured a good deal of warm friendship.

Being also an ingenious youth, he devised many little plans for amusing
Ranavalona and preventing her mind from dwelling on dangerous memories.
Among other things, he induced her to go in for a series of garden
parties, and encouraged the people to practise their national games at
these gatherings in a systematic way.

What all this was ultimately to lead to he did not know--indeed at first
he had no particular end in view save the great one of preventing the
Queen from ordering any more of the horrible scenes of bloodshed which
he and his friends had so recently witnessed.  But as time ran on his
ideas became more definite and concentrated.  It occurred to him that
Ravonino would inevitably venture to attend the garden parties in the
hope of again meeting Rafaravavy, and now that the Secretary had avowed
himself on the side of the Christians, he felt that through him he might
influence her to agree to her lover's proposal.

Then his plan to effect the rescue of Mamba was gradually matured.

"Ebony," he exclaimed, suddenly, one afternoon when sitting at his table
preparing some villainous compound for the Queen, "go down to the
laboratory, boy, and fetch me some gunpowder, sulphur, saltpetre, and
charcoal."

Mark's laboratory, by the way, contained not only the medicines which
chanced to be in the capital at that time, but also a vast collection of
miscellaneous articles and substances which, in the opinion of palace
officials, could be classed, however remotely, with "doctor's stuffs."

"Them stuffs," remarked Hockins, who sat luxuriously in an arm-chair
smoking a short pipe--for he had unfortunately obtained tobacco since
arriving at the capital!--"Them stuffs are apt to cause surprisin'
effects w'en properly mixed."

"Just so.  That is my reason for sending for them.  I shall create some
surprising effects if my old cunning in pyrotechny has not forsaken me.
When I was a school-boy, you must know, I was fond of dabbling in
fireworks, and it strikes me that I could compound some things that
would charm the Queen and astonish the natives."

"Massa," asked Ebony, powerful surprise expressed in his sable visage,
while Mark spooned large quantities of the ingredients referred to into
an earthenware dish, "is dem powders to be took inside arter bein' well
shooken, or rubbed outside?"

"Whichever way you please, Ebony.  Would you like to try?"

"No thankee, massa."

"Now, then, look here," said Mark, making some pencil notes on a sheet
of paper, after arranging several plates in a row.  "You and Hockins set
to work and mix these in the exact proportions set down on this paper.
I'd do it myself, but I'm due at the palace, and you know the Queen does
not like to be kept waiting.  Stick to the paper, exactly, and here you
have an egg-cup, a table-spoon, and a tea-spoon to measure with.  Put
your pipe out, I advise you, Hockins, before beginning.  If Rainiharo
should call, tell him he will find me with the Queen.  I don't like that
Prime Minister.  He's a prime rascal, I think, and eggs the Queen on
when she would probably let things drop.  He's always brooding and
pondering, too, as if hatching mischief."

"If that's a sign of hatching mischief," said Hockins, with a short
laugh, "the same thing may be said of yourself, doctor, for you've done
little but brood and ponder for more nor a week past."

"True, I have been plotting; but many a man plots much without much
resulting."

Hurrying away, Mark found the Secretary waiting for him to act as
interpreter, for the Queen understood little or no English.

After the preliminary ceremonial salutations, the young doctor asked if
her Majesty would honour the gardens with her presence the following
day, hold a grand reception, and make arrangements to remain in Anosy
till after dark.

Yes, the Queen was quite ready to do so, but why did her Court Physician
make such a proposal?  Had he some new surprise in store for her?

"I have," answered Mark.  "In my country we make very grand displays
with fire.  But I have various little surprises and plots in store,
which cannot be properly wrought out unless Ranavalona will consent to
go to the gardens privately--that is to say, without public
announcement, for that has much to do with the success of my scheme."

"It shall be done, though it is against my custom," said the Queen, with
a good-natured nod, for she had begun to regard her young physician as
an eccentric creature who needed and deserved encouragement in his
amusing and harmless fancies.

Immediately after the audience, Mark and his sympathetic interpreter,
the Secretary, obtained an interview with Rafaravavy.  The doctor began
abruptly.

"I am well acquainted with your lover, dear young lady."  At this she
pouted a little, blushed terribly, and drew her pretty figure to its
full height--which was not great!  "And," continued Mark, "I have been
very deeply indebted to him."

Rafaravavy relaxed a little, and fixed her fine dark eyes on the youth
searchingly, but said nothing.

"Now I know," Mark went on, pretending not to observe the maiden's
varying moods, "that my friend loves you so profoundly--so deeply--that
he will risk his life to see you, and if he is caught, you are well
aware that in the present state of the Queen's mind the result would be
his death--almost certainly, and perhaps you would die along with him.
Therefore, if you get an opportunity soon you should agree to fly with
him."

During the first part of this speech the young girl's face glowed with
evident pleasure, but the last part was unfortunate.  It did not suit
the temper of one who was brave as she was beautiful.

"I know not, sir," she said, with flashing eyes, while the little figure
drew up again, "what English girls may think or do, but Malagasy women
are not afraid to die with those whom they love.  Your advice may be
kindly meant, but I doubt if it is wise.  Besides, I am a servant of my
Queen, and owe allegiance to her."

"Your Queen, mademoiselle, is a servant of the devil," said Mark, whose
indignation was severely stirred.  "And, Rafaravavy, do you not profess
to be a servant of the Christians' God--the Almighty?  Does not the Book
state that it is impossible to serve _two_ masters?"

"Come, come!" cried the Secretary, in a sharp tone, after translating
this faithfully, "it is time to go.  Follow me!"

Mark's surprise at this abrupt termination of the interview was great,
but as Rafaravavy retired hastily, he had no resource but to follow his
friend.

"Why so sharp?" he asked, as they passed along the corridor.

"Because you have said enough," returned the Secretary, with a quiet
smile.  "You may understand your own women, no doubt, but not the
Malagasy girls as well as I do.  When a man has said _enough_ to a woman
he should stop and let it simmer.  All the rest that he would say she
will say to herself--and say it much better, too!  But tell me, when do
you think Ravoninohitriniony will meet Rafaravavy?"

"I don't know.  All I know is that a true lover is sure to manage a
meeting soon--and somehow."

He was glad to be able to make this indefinite reply; for although he
trusted the Secretary, and would have revealed his own affairs fully to
him, he felt that he had no right to reveal the affairs of his friend to
any one.

Before they reached the palace-yard a loud report was heard.  The palace
shook as with an earthquake.  Loud cries of soldiery were heard without,
and Mark's heart sank with an undefinable dread.

To account for this report we must go back a little.  When Hockins and
Ebony were left, as we have seen, to mix their "powders," the former,
being a reckless man, forgot to put his pipe out, and Ebony being a
careless man, (as regarded himself), did not observe the omission.  The
consequence was that the seaman kept on puffing and emitting sage
reflections to his admiring friend while they mixed their compounds in
concert.

"Hand me the powder, Ebony."

"Das good--ha! ha! das awrful good," cried the negro, referring to the
latest sage reflection--as he pushed across the powder canister, which
was a large one.

At that inauspicious moment a spark fell from the pipe!  Next moment the
door was burst open, the window blown out, Hockins was laid fiat on his
back, while Ebony went head-over-heels upon the floor!

Slowly and with a dazed look the seaman raised himself on one elbow and
looked round.

"Any--anything of ye left, boy?" he asked, quietly.

"I--I's not kite sure, 'Ockins," replied the negro, slowly passing his
hand down one of his legs without rising from the floor.  "'Ow does it
feel wid _you_?"

"All right, I think," replied the seaman, rising and presenting a
remarkable exhibition of singed beard and frizzled locks, "no bones
broke, anyhow."

At that instant Mark rushed into the smoke-filled room in consternation,
followed by the Secretary and a number of soldiers who formed the guard
of the palace, and great was their surprise, as well as their
satisfaction, to find that the two men had received no damage worth
mentioning.

"Well, I _am_ thankful," exclaimed Mark, beginning to pick up the debris
of plates and furniture.

"So am I," remarked the sailor, "thankful to think that I've got it over
at last--so easy too!"

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I means, doctor, that I've gone the whole round o' human possibilities
now--leastwise I think so--and am alive to tell it!  I've bin shot, an'
stabbed, an' drownded--all but--an' now I've bin blow'd up!"

"So's I, 'Ockins, so you needn't boast," remarked Ebony, as he tenderly
felt the place where his wool ought to have been, but where only a few
irregularly-shaped patches of scrub remained.

We need scarcely say that Mark Breezy did not allow this little
_contretemps_ to interfere with his plans.

"You'll have to work all night, both of you--that's your punishment for
disobeying orders--and without the solace of a pipe too," said Mark,
when order was somewhat restored and work resumed.  "The garden party,
you know, is fixed for to-morrow, and it's as much as our heads are
worth to disappoint the Queen of her expected amusements.  Time, tide,
and Ranavalona the First wait for no man!  I've got to go out for an
hour or so.  When I return I'll show you how to make stars and crackers
and red rain, etcetera."

"But I say, Doctor," asked Hockins, looking up from his work, "where are
the cases to hold all this here stuff?"

"Time enough for that when we want 'em.  I've got some fellows at work
on small ones, and there's a big one that will open the Madagaskite eyes
if there's virtue in saltpetre.  It's made of--ah! here it comes," he
added, as the door opened and two natives carried in a piece of
cast-iron pipe about six feet long and four inches in diameter.

"The pistol-barrel of a giant," exclaimed the seaman.

"A young cannon!" said Ebony.  "W'y, massa, you gwine to make a Roman
candle ob _dat_?"

He turned for an answer, but Mark had hastily quitted the house.

Encountering the Secretary in the court-yard, he took his arm and said,
"I want your help."

"Well, you shall have it.  But you are so mys--mys--what is it--sterious
about your leetil plans, that I fear my help is not useful."

"Oh! yes, it is, I want you to get me a paper from--I don't know who--
the proper officer, whoever he is, authorising me to take a gang of
convicts--four will do--to work for me."

"Good, you shall have it," returned the Secretary, with a laugh.  "I see
you are going to give us big surprises to-morrow."

"You are right, I am," said Mark, as the Secretary left him to execute
his mission.

Armed with an order, Mark left the palace and hurried through the steep
narrow streets of the town, until he reached a piece of road that was
being mended by four slaves in long chains.  That morning Mark had
observed that his friend the crocodile was one of the four.  Passing
close enough to attract the attention of the poor fellow, he whispered,
without stopping, "Mamba, expect me to-morrow."

This he had said in the native tongue, having by that time acquired a
few sentences, of which he made the best and most frequent use possible.

Going to the guard of these slaves, he presented his paper, and said
that he should come personally for them early in the morning.  Then he
returned to the laboratory and assisted his comrades to load the
firework cases with various kinds of "fire," stars, golden rain,
etcetera.  The young cannon especially was loaded, with a succession of
surprises, to the very muzzle, before midnight.

"Suppose he bust!" suggested Ebony, with a solemn visage.  "De Queen ob
Madigascur be blow'd into middle ob nixt week--hey?"

"I shall take precautions against that, Ebony.  In the first place, I'll
have it buried in the earth up to the muzzle, and, in the second place,
I'll not place it too near her Majesty."

When all was prepared the wearied triumvirate retired to rest, each to
dream of the subjects that lay nearest his heart and imagination at the
moment.  Hockins dreamed of tobacco-pipes and explosions; Mark dreamed
of freed slaves, thunder-struck queens, eloping lovers and terrible
consequences; and Ebony dreamed of incomprehensible situations, crashing
thunderbolts, and unimaginable coruscations of resplendent fire!



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

IN WHICH MARK CARRIES OUT HIS PLANS SUCCESSFULLY, AND POWERFULLY
ASTONISHES HIMSELF AS WELL AS EVERY ONE ELSE.

It was a brilliant lovely morning when the guests began to wend their
way to the suburban residence of Anosy, where Ranavalona was to hold her
garden party.

The people were very gay, somewhat excited, and very chatty, for they
were aware that the young English doctor had prepared something new and
surprising for the Queen's special benefit.

Just before the earliest of these guests, however, had set off to the
garden, our three heroes had passed down to that part of the road where
the four slaves were already at work with pick and shovel and clanking
chain.

It was a little after sunrise when Mark went up to the guard to relieve
him.

"Take care," said the guard, when about to leave, "that you keep the
slaves well out of the way when the Queen passes.  All the others in the
neighbourhood have been taken off long ago.  I was beginning to be
afraid you would not come in time."

"I understand," said Mark, who knew enough of the language, (and also of
the situation), to follow the drift of his meaning.

The guard thereupon turned, shouldered his musket, and went off,
apparently well pleased at the unexpected relief from duty.

While this little incident was occurring three of the slaves were
looking on with a slight expression of surprise in their sad faces.  The
fourth, Mamba, was standing in a dejected attitude before Hockins and
Ebony, holding a pick in one hand and his heavy chain in the other.

"Oh! man, I _am_ sorry to see you like this," said Hockins, extending
his brawny hand, "an' I does wish I could set you free--but you know I'm
as helpless as a babby in this matter."

Mamba dropped the pick and grasped the strong hand, but did not look up.
His heart was too full.  He did not understand the seaman's words, but
he understood the tone.  If he had looked up he would have seen that the
tears were hopping over Ebony's cheeks in spite of the powerful efforts
of that sympathetic soul to control them, and that he was unable to
speak because of a lump in his throat.

"Das most awrful!" he exclaimed at last.  "Oh, Mamby, I'd fight for you
like a wild-cat wid the cholera if that would do you any good, but it
would be ob no use."

Just then Mark came forward.  "Quick, follow me," he said, leading the
way to a thick clump of bushes behind a wall that bordered the road.
Here, quite concealed, yet able to peep through the leafy screen, he
ordered his party to sit down on a heap of stones and await orders.  He
then went to the top of a mound that lay immediately behind them.  From
this he could see the road winding along for about two or three hundred
yards.

Descending to his comrades he sat down beside them.

"You look anxious, doctor," remarked the seaman.

"I _am_ anxious," returned Mark, "I am on the point of making a great
venture, and the results may be serious.  But we are in God's hands;"
then, turning to Mamba, who looked at him with much curiosity and a
gleam of hope on his intelligent face, "I have hope of success and have
prayed for it."

Mamba, whose knowledge of English was very slight, shook his head and
looked puzzled.

"Have you forgotten, Mamba, the law of your land--that the criminal who
_looks_ upon the Queen is from that moment entitled to claim freedom?
Ranavalona is to pass along this road in less than half-an-hour."

Of course Mark said this in remarkably bad Malagasy, but Mamba
understood.  A gleam of intelligence shot into his swarthy visage, and
his chest began to heave with strong emotion as he glared rather than
gazed at the speaker.  Not less surprised were Hockins and Ebony when
Mark explained, for although they had indeed heard about the law in
question they had forgotten it.  After recovering the first shock, Mamba
turned quickly and pointed to his three comrades in suffering.

"Yes, yes--I understand," said Mark, "I shall set them free at the same
time.  Why not?  The risk will not be increased."

"A reg'lar jail-delivery!" murmured Hockins, as he drew in a long
breath.

"Hush! they come!" cried Mark, crouching so as the more effectually to
conceal himself, in which act he was quickly imitated by the others.

According to promise, Ranavalona had set out from her palace that
morning without her wonted display and ceremonial, with only a few of
her courtiers and a handful of troops around her.  She did not, however,
omit the scarlet umbrella of state, and it was this brilliant object
which had attracted Mark's attention.

When the procession had approached close to the place of concealment,
Mark whispered "Now!" and ran to the top of the mound before referred
to.  The four slaves followed him.  The summit gained they turned,
lifted up their arms and chains, _looked upon the Queen_, and gave vent
to the "oo!--oo!--oo!" which stands to the Malagasy in the place of a
cheer.  Recognising the importance of the event, Hockins and Ebony,
unable to restrain themselves, gave vent to a hearty British hurrah!

At this interruption, the bearers of the royal palanquin or chair
halted, the soldiers brought their muskets to the "ready," and a dark
frown overspread the features of the Queen.

Before the storm could burst, however, Mark descended the mound, went to
the side of the chair, knelt on one knee, and exclaimed--

"Forgive, madam--forgive me!"

"This, then, is _your_ doing," replied the Queen, sternly, through the
Secretary, who was at her side.

"It is, madam.  I am guilty.  If punishment must descend, I alone should
bear it."

There was something so modest, yet so fearless, in the youth's tone and
bearing, that the Queen's brows relaxed a little.

"But why did you dare to interfere with my laws?" demanded Ranavalona,
still angrily.

"I did not venture to interfere, madam," returned Mark, humbly, "I did
but use one law to neutralise another.  One of these slaves is my
friend.  I think he would be very useful in helping me to-night with my
magic fires!"

There was so much of cool presumption in thus quietly changing the
subject, with such charming modesty of demeanour, too, that the Queen
burst into a hearty laugh.

"Strike off his fetters," she said, and gave the signal to her bearers
to move on.

"Ay," said Mark to the Secretary in an authoritative tone, "and also
strike off the fetters of the other three!"

"You've got cheek for anything a'most, doctor," said the amazed and
amused seaman, as they fell into the procession, and followed the Queen
to the pleasure-garden.

Here extensive preparations had been made for spending the day in games
and festivities that far exceeded anything of the sort ever before
attempted in that land.  For Mark Breezy had not only an ingenious mind
to devise, but an organising spirit to make use of the services of
others in carrying out his plans.

When the guests were scattered about the grounds, after a good
breakfast, enjoying the delightful shade of the trees, tempting the
gold-fish in the lake with crumbs of food, and loitering among the
by-paths, the young doctor made himself almost ubiquitous.  Acting the
double part of manager of the games and amusements, and private
conspirator, he set an army of palace officials in motion, whom he
pledged to secrecy, and led each to suppose that he was the prime mover
in some plot that was to astonish and delight the Queen, in all which he
was ably assisted by the Secretary.  When he had thus stirred up, as it
were, an air of mystery and expectation, he led the Secretary, Hockins,
and Ebony, to a retired spot, and, bidding them sit down, gave them a
brief address.

"You see," he said, "the time has now come for me to explain to you more
fully, the plans and plots with which I have been engaged for some time
past.  And in doing so I would impress upon you, Mr Secretary, that I
am placing my life in your hands; but I do so without fear, believing
that you are a Christian and will not betray me."

Mark paused and looked full at the Secretary, who said, "But you must
remember that I can do nothing that will be disloyal to the Queen."

"If you were persecuted by the Queen and threatened with death, would
you consider it allowable to fly to the forests?"

"Yes--the Word of the Lord recommends that."

"Would you consider it right to assist a fellow-Christian to fly?"

"Truly I would!"

"Well then, you will assist me this night, for I have spoken to
Rafaravavy.  My Malagasy words are few, but love does not require many
words!  She has agreed to fly with Ravonino--"

"Have you seen Ravonino lately?" asked Hockins.

"No--I have not seen him _lately_."

"How, then, do you know he will be ready?"

"Because," said Mark, with a peculiar look, "I have been smitten with
his complaint, and know that it runs the same course and exhibits the
same phases in most men.  Let a young fellow see his intended bride
treated with cruelty, and you may be sure that, no matter what
difficulties may be in the way, he will hasten at the very first
opportunity to meet and carry off the sweet little fairy in spite of--"

"Das me an' my black darlin', zactly--same zif you bin dar an' sawd us
do it!" exclaimed Ebony, with beaming interest.

"Just so," resumed Mark.  "However, I have not left things altogether to
chance.  Although I did not see Ravonino lately, I saw him not _very_
long ago, and gave him to understand that when some unusual festivities
were going on in this garden he was to be ready at the old spot for
whatever might happen!  Now, here is my little plan.  You know I've been
drilling fifty picked natives for some time in that big shed at the back
of the cliff on the north side o' the city.  I picked them for
intelligence as well as strength and activity.  Well, I have taught them
a wild war-dance.  It cost me no little trouble and many sleepless
nights to invent it, but I've managed it, and hope to show the Queen and
Court what can be done by a little organisation.  These fifty are first
of all to glide quietly among the trees, each man to a particular spot
and hang on the branches fifty earthen saucers full of grease, with
wicks in them.  At a given signal they are to light these
instantaneously and retire.  At another signal they are to rush upon the
open space in front of the garden-house, and there engage in a sham
fight.  While thus engaged, men who have been taught will set fire to
the mildest of our fireworks.  When these are about to go out I will
myself light the big Roman candle--"

"De young cannon, massa?"

"Yes, the young cannon, and that will keep things going for a
considerable time.  Now, it is when the fight of the fifty begins and
engrosses the attention of every one that I will myself take Rafaravavy
out from among the ladies and lead her to the rendezvous.  You will all
stand by--to lend a hand if need be--at the south-east corner of the
garden-house, that I may know exactly where to find you.  My hope and
expectation is that by keeping things going as long as possible our
friends Ravonino and Rafaravavy will get a good start.  After the flight
of the latter is found out, nothing more can be done for them."

"Do they go all alone?" asked Hockins.

"No, Laihova goes with them; and Mamba, who knows the secret
meeting-places of the Christians, will, I have no doubt, soon find out
which way they have gone.  Anyhow they will all certainly make for the
cave in Betsilio-land where so many of their friends are.  May God speed
them!  Meanwhile we must keep the Queen amused with races, wrestling,
and such-like; and when she begins to get wearied with mere eating and
talking, I want you, Hockins, to go in for a wrestling-match with Ebony
by way of varying the entertainment, and showing them what Englishmen
and niggers can do."

"Wery good," said the seaman, with a sedate smile, "if that's to be the
fun, you better make your will, Ebony, for I'll break your back."

"All right," retorted Ebony, with a grin, "an' I tink you'll be wise to
make your last dyin' speech afore we begin, for I'll bust you!"

The various plans which we have here sketched were carried out with such
brilliant success that the Queen did not weary at all, and darkness
began to descend on the scene before the day seemed to have half run its
course.  At this point Mark hastened to the south-east corner of the
garden-house, where he found the other conspirators faithfully at their
post.

"Have you the flageolet with you?" he asked, hastily.

"In course I has.  Never goes nowheres without it," said the seaman,
drawing the little instrument from his breast-pocket.

"Go then, make your bow to the Queen, and give her a tune.  You know
she's quite in love with your pipe--or yourself--and has been asking me
about it already.  She's in the verandah just now, and they are lighting
the torches there."

With the silent obedience of a man-of-war's man, Hockins went off, and,
without prelude, began.  Dead silence was the instant result, for the
small bird-like pipe seemed to charm the very soul of every one who
heard it.  We know not whether it was accident or a spice of humour in
the seaman, but the tune he played was "Jock o' Hazeldean!"  And as Mark
hurried off to see that his fifty men were in readiness, he gave vent to
a slight laugh as he thought of the lines:

  "She's ower the border and awa'
  Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!"

To the surprise of the audience, no sooner had the last notes of the air
died away than the performer thrust the pipe into his pocket, threw off
his coat, and in a loud voice challenged the best man in Madagascar to
wrestle with him.  As the challenge was given in English of course no
native responded.  Even if it had been given in choice Malagasy we
question whether any brown man there would have ventured a hug with the
huge sailor.  But no sooner had the challenge passed his lips than Ebony
sprang forward, flung off not only his coat but his vest and shirt, and
embraced his white opponent in a grip of iron.

At that opportune moment the signal was given to the fifty men, who
applied their lights, and, as if by magic, the entire scene was
illuminated by a blaze of intense light that almost rivalled that of the
sun itself!

A tremendous "oo!--oo!--oo!" of applause burst from the astonished
company, who, having had their attention fixed on the wrestlers, did not
observe how the sudden illumination had been effected.

Truly the proceedings of Hockins and Ebony would have surprised even
more finished wrestlers than those of Madagascar, for the two men had
entered into a sly compact not only to exert their strength to the
uttermost, but to give way, each at certain points or moments, when by
so doing the appearance of what they styled a "back-breaker" and a
"buster" might be achieved in an effective manner.  It was a marvellous
exhibition.  Ebony glared and gasped!  Hockins growled and frowned!
Nothing short of a tussle between Achilles and Hercules could have
equalled it.  The Court, from the Queen downwards, was awe-stricken,
eye-strained, open-mouthed, and breathless, but Mark felt that it was
time to cut it short.  Giving a preconcerted signal, he caused both men
to fall down side by side as if exhausted but not conquered.  Then he
gave another signal.  A moment after, fire-wheels and Roman candles
began to play, and the fifty warriors rushed upon the scene, brandishing
muskets and yelling like fiends.

Hastening, according to orders, to the south-east corner of the
garden-house, Hockins and Ebony found the Director-General awaiting
them.

"I cannot delay to fire the big candle," he said quickly.

"De young cannon!" panted Ebony.

"Yes, yes.  You must fire it for me in about ten minutes or so, when the
warriors seem to be getting knocked up.  Follow me, Hockins, and keep
close."

Another minute and Rafaravavy, who was standing near the Queen's chair,
felt a touch on her arm.  She looked round with a start, for, like every
one else, she had been fascinated and quite engrossed by the scene
before her.

A glance and motion of the hand from Mark sufficed.  She glided gently
backwards and reached the other side of the house unobserved.  Here Mark
grasped her hand and Hockins followed.  They walked at first, but began
to run on gaining the shrubbery, which was rendered doubly dark by
contrast with the glare behind them.

In a couple of minutes they reached the thicket where the previous
meeting had taken place.  The over-arching foliage deepened the darkness
so that it was impossible to distinguish features.  A form was dimly
seen, but it was only by the sound of the voice that they knew it to be
Ravonino.

Few words were uttered.  Every instant was precious.

"Farewell, dear friend," said Ravonino, grasping Mark's hand, "God grant
that we may meet again in better times!  Laihova waits for me beyond the
garden--"

He stopped abruptly, seized Rafaravavy's hand and glided with her
noiselessly into the thicket, for at that moment another figure was seen
to approach them.  From his unusual size they knew him to be one of
Ranavalona's chief executioners.  He was a cool-headed and suspicious
man, a sort of natural detective, who always had his wits about him.
Having observed several people gliding through the shrubbery he had
quitted the sports and followed.  To have been recognised by this
official would have been fatal--at least to those plotters who did not
take to flight.  Hockins, who was prompt to conceive and act when danger
pressed, at once stepped forward and gave the man of blood a
right-hander on the top of the nose which instantly Romanised that
feature and laid its owner on his back insensible.

At the same moment--as if the blow had been the touching of a secret
spring--the whole garden was lighted up with a magnificent red glare,
and they knew that Ebony had done his part and lighted the giant candle.
The red glare lasted long enough to reveal the fact that Ravonino and
Rafaravavy were gone, and that the man at their feet was indeed the
executioner whom they had guessed him to be.  Leaving him there they ran
quickly back to the scene of festivities, hoping that their absence had
not been observed.  Before they had gone half-a-dozen steps there was an
explosion like that of a big gun, a bomb went high into the air, and
burst in a magnificent constellation of brilliant stars, mingled with
fiery rain.  The "oo!--oo!--oo!" cheers became vociferous at this, and
were, if possible, still more enthusiastic when the red fire changed to
a beautiful blue.

"Splendid!" exclaimed Mark, much satisfied with the result of his recent
labours, "and it will keep going on for a considerable time yet."

As he spoke there was a crash like the loudest thunder, and a momentary
glare as of the brightest noon-light, which was followed by intense
darkness, while the garden was shaken as if by an earthquake.  Loud
cries and shrieks were accompanied by the falling of a shower of dust
and small stones.  Evidently there had been a catastrophe, and the
quaking conspirators hastened to the spot, half expecting to find the
Queen and Court of Madagascar blown to atoms.

"The whole consarn's busted up!" exclaimed Hockins, on coming in sight
of the garden-house.

The seaman's explanation was the true one.  Owing to some inexplicable
mistake in the loading of the monster Roman candle, fire had
communicated somehow with the lowest charge, which was a good strong
one, intended to propel a glorious mass of ingenious contrivances into
the air and end the matter with an effective bang.  As it turned out,
the bang was ten times more effective, for it not only blew out the
entire charge but burst the cast-iron case, and upturned tons of earth
in which Mark had taken the precaution to bury the thing up to its neck.

At first the Queen, like her people, had got a severe fright; but,
seeing that no one seemed to be hurt, she controlled her feelings, under
the impression, no doubt, that the explosion was part of the programme.

"Have you got your whistle, Hockins?" asked Mark, quickly, as he ran
forward.

"Ay, sir--always here, ready for action!"

"Come, then, play up when I give the word--something quieting.  Hold on!
Let's do it sedately."

By this time they had got within the circle of torchlight.  Reducing
their run to a smart walk the two friends advanced, as Mark had
suggested, sedately, in front of the Queen, while the Secretary rejoined
the circle of courtiers unperceived.

As they advanced they encountered Ebony with an unused Roman candle in
each hand, and an expression of horror on his black face.

"Oh! massa--" he began.

"Hush! never mind!  Follow me!" said Mark, in a peremptory whisper.

Another moment and the sweet tones of the flageolet silenced the noise
of the excited throng, as Hockins stood before the Queen and played one
of the sweetest of Scottish songs.

Mark placed Ebony behind his comrade, made him hold up the Roman
candles, quietly lighted them both, and retired.  Thus Hockins, much to
his own surprise, found himself, in the midst of spouting fire,
producing the melodious notes of "Afton Water!"

When the little candles exploded, our Director-General advanced to the
royal chair and expressed a hope that the performances had given
satisfaction.

This the Secretary--ever-ready in time of need--translated, and returned
the answer that the Queen was charmed, after which the proceedings
terminated, and Ranavalona returned to her palace to dream, no doubt, of
fireworks and music instead of martyrdoms.

So engrossed was the whole Court with the exciting and singular events
of the day that no one noticed the absence of Rafaravavy, and, happily,
the Queen did not happen to require her attendance that night.

Even those who were in closest proximity to the fugitive's own room,
were so taken up with what they had seen that they either did not think
of her, or supposed that fatigue had induced her to retire early.

Thus it came to pass that when her flight was discovered on the
following day, Rafaravavy, carried by strong and willing bearers, and
guarded by her devoted Ravonino and his faithful friend Laihova, was
being swiftly borne over mountain and plain to the forest stronghold in
Betsilio-land.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

FLIGHT AND PURSUIT OF RAVONINO AND RAFARAVAVY.

The fury of the Queen when she heard of the flight of Rafaravavy was
terrible, for this was the second of her favourite ladies-in-waiting who
had become Christians and deserted her Court in fear of their lives--
Ra-Ruth, the fair little sister of Ravonino, having been the first.

Fortunately Ranavalona did not think of connecting the flight of
Rafaravavy with the recent entertainments, so that suspicion did not
attach to Mark and his friends.  Neither did the executioner with the
Romanised nose suspect them, for in the profound darkness he had not
been able to see who it was that knocked the senses out of him; and when
afterwards he was told of the explosion that had occurred, he came to
the conclusion, (and told his friends), that a big stone, hurled into
the air at that time, had descended on his head and felled him.  Whether
the "friends" believed this or not we cannot say, but certain it is that
they covertly rejoiced in the accident, for naturally the man of blood
was no favourite!

As might be supposed, soldiers were at once despatched all over the
country in search of the fugitive; and the Queen, relapsing into one of
her dark fits of cruelty, began to persecute the Christians more
severely than ever.  Still, Mark Breezy strove to influence her towards
mercy, and in some measure restrained her.

Meanwhile Ravonino and his party pushed on in hot haste towards their
place of refuge in the wild forest.

The dangers to which they were exposed and the risks they ran on this
adventurous journey were too numerous to be related in detail.  We can
only touch on a few of them here.

Laihova, it may be mentioned in passing, failed to join them, certainly
not from want of will, but because the place where he had concealed
himself was discovered while he lay awaiting the signal to join his
friends.  Two female relations who knew of his hiding-place were caught,
convicted, if we may so put it, of Christianity! and put to the torture.
Although true-hearted, these poor girls were so agonised by suffering
and terror that, in a moment of weakness, they disclosed the secret.
But even among prison authorities there were found followers of Jesus--
secretly, however, for fear of the tyrant Queen--and one of these sent a
swift messenger to Laihova to warn him.  Had the youth been an ordinary
man the warning would have been too late, for close on the heels of the
messenger came the soldiers with his death-warrant.  But Laihova was
gifted with cool courage and unusual speed of foot.  Trust, also, in the
certainty of God's blessing, whether life or death should be his
portion, filled him with that spirit of enthusiastic energy which goes
so far, in all circumstances of life, to ensure success.  He soon
distanced his pursuers, left them out of sight behind, and, finally,
found refuge with a Christian friend, who hid him over an oven in his
house when he had reached the last stage of exhaustion from hard
running, and could not have advanced further without rest.  The soldiers
came up and searched the house while he was asleep, but happily did not
observe the oven!  They remained there, however, over the night, and
thus rendered it impossible for Laihova to join his friends at that
time.

Ravonino could not, of course, afford to delay.  Knowing also that his
young friend was well able to take care of himself, and that his soul's
anchor was the Lord, he felt comparatively little anxiety in starting
without him.

To let Rafaravavy have female companionship on the hazardous journey,
her lover induced a Christian girl who had been named Sarah to accompany
them.  This faithful creature was the means of saving their lives more
than once by giving timely warning of approaching danger.

The first place to which the fugitives directed their steps was a
village about fifty miles from the capital, where dwelt a Christian who,
with his wife, offered them hospitality and protection.  This man had
sent a noble message to the persecuted ones in the city.  It ran thus:--

"Let all the Christians who are compelled to run away for their lives
come to me.  I will take care of them.  As long as I am safe they are
safe, and as long as I have food they shall share it."

Not an hour's rest was taken until the house of their friend was
reached.  Of course they were received with open arms.  Food was placed
before them, and mats were spread in a safe place on which they might
rest.  But neither food nor repose would the fugitives take until they
had joined the Christian family in thanking God for their escape and in
singing His praise.

"Sing the hymn of dear Ramanisa," said Ravonino as he seated himself at
the side of Rafaravavy, after arranging her mat.

The host smiled as he turned over the leaves of a Malagasy hymn-book.
"All the fugitives like that hymn," he said.

"Do you wonder?" returned his guest.  "Before the last great persecution
he was one of our most faithful preachers of the Gospel, and when
trouble came he always forgot himself in his eager desire to help and
comfort others.  Many a time has he guided and strengthened the Lord's
people when they have been compelled to fly,--to travel weary and
footsore by night, to wander in the dark forests, and hide in the gloomy
caves.  Wherever he went there was sunshine, because his heart was very
full of the love of Jesus; and when he was led out to be speared, was he
not faithful to the last?  Perhaps we may be permitted to sing his own
hymn along with him some day before the throne.  No wonder that we love
the words of Ramanisa.  They called him Josiah when he was baptized, but
he was Ramanisa when the Lord called him, and I think _that_ is the name
that is written in the Book of Life."

The hymn composed by this good native, which these Christians began to
sing--and which is incorporated, as we have said, in the Malagasy
hymn-book,--is still, and will doubtless continue to be, a great
favourite with the Christians of Madagascar.  The following is a
translation of three of the verses.  _See Note 1_.

  "Loud to the Lord your voices raise,
  Extol His name, exalt His praise;
  Publish the wonders of His hand
  O'er all the earth, in every land.

  "Oh!  God, our God, to Thee we cry,
  Jesus, the Saviour, be Thou nigh;
  Oh! sacred Spirit, hear our prayer,
  And save the afflicted from despair.

  "Scarce can we find a place of rest,
  Save dens and caves, with hunger press'd;
  Yet Thy compassion is our bliss,
  Pilgrims amidst a wilderness."

Poor Rafaravavy had full proof of the truth embodied in these lines,
both as to the affliction and the bliss, before many days were over.
The soldiers being strong hardy men, burdened only with their arms, and
with little clothing, pushed after the three fugitives with so much
vigour that they arrived at the place where the latter had rested on the
second day of their flight.  While soldiers were thus close to them the
utmost caution and close concealment were necessary.  They remained
where they were, therefore, and every morning, before dawn, Ravonino
stole out to a neighbouring mountain with Rafaravavy and her maid.
There they lay hid among the craggy rocks until night-fall, when they
returned to their friend's house.

But soon this place of concealment became known to the persecuting prime
minister, Rainiharo, who directed the soldiers to search the mountain
before going to the village.  This they did, but did not find the
fugitives, for, as it was cold that morning, they had agreed to run the
risk of remaining in the house!

Failing to find those they sought for in the mountain, the soldiers
entered the village and approached the house where they lay unperceived
by human eye, and it seemed as if at last Rafaravavy's doom was sealed.
Other eyes, however,--very black and sharp ones--observed the enemy, and
the owners of these eyes--a flock of crows--rose in alarm at their
approach.

"Oh!" exclaimed the handmaiden, Sarah, "the crows are at the rice I
spread out to dry!" and out she ran to rescue it.  One glimpse of the
soldiers was enough.  Sarah was equal to the occasion.  Without even a
backward glance she gave warning to those in the house, but cleverly
continued her raid upon the crows, laughingly asking the men when she
passed them, "if they had come there to search for run-away Christians!"

"This way," whispered the host to his two guests when the warning
reached him.  Leading them to an inner room he made them creep under a
bed and covered them with a mat.  As for the chair-bearers and their
burden, such adjuncts to Malagasy travel were too numerous and common in
the land to attract much attention.  Fortunately the soldiers were
hungry, and, being eager for food, did not search the house with care,
but during their stay of an hour poor Rafaravavy heard all they said
respecting her and the orders that had been issued for her arrest and
death.  At the same time Ravonino became aware that his presence in the
neighbourhood was known, though his complicity in the abduction of his
companion in distress, he fancied, had not been suspected.

That night the fugitives resumed their journey and travelled till dawn,
when they again found safe refuge in the house of a sympathising friend.
Thus they proceeded for several days and nights with the utmost
caution, for, wherever they went it was found that soldiers had been
sent out in pursuit.

One night they approached a village where they knew they would be kindly
received, but had scarcely reached it when they learned that a party of
soldiers were searching the neighbourhood for some other woman who had
recently disappeared.  They were compelled, therefore, to return to the
place they had left the day before.  From this point they changed their
intended route, partly to throw the pursuers off the scent, if possible,
and partly to seek temporary refuge at the house of an old woman who was
an aunt of Sarah.

"She's a real good Christian," said Sarah, when advising the visit, "and
she fears no one but God.  If they ever kill my old aunt she will die
singing, or praying for her murderers."

Sure enough, when they reached the hut of the old woman, they heard her
singing hymns at the full pitch of her voice, quite regardless of the
fact that she was breaking the law and that persecutors were swarming in
the land.

"Shelter you!" exclaimed this old woman, when her niece had mentioned
the cause of their visit, "yes, I will shelter you as long as my dear
Lord gives me the power to do so."

The need for friendly aid was great, for, even while the old woman
spoke, a little girl came bounding into the hut saying that a party of
soldiers were approaching.

"Run! meet them, child.  Then turn and run away as if you were afraid of
them.  Make them chase you if you can.  Run!"

The girl was intelligent.  She bounded away, and the old woman, with a
degree of activity that was wonderful at her age, led her visitors to
the back of her house and hid them in a pit.  There they had to spend
that night while the aunt entertained their pursuers, but next morning,
after the latter had left, their old hostess led them to a plantation
close at hand, where they remained concealed for several days, not
daring to move, for, at various times, they saw men who were in pursuit
of them pass quite near to their hiding-place.

Here it was decided that the palanquin, or chair-bearers, should proceed
no further, as they only increased the danger of discovery, and that
Ravonino, Rafaravavy, and Sarah should proceed alone and on foot through
the extensive forest which lay just beyond the place.

The first night all went well.  The moon was clear enough to make
travelling easy, and no enemies were encountered, but the next evening,
a little after sunset, on gaining the crest of a hill, they met almost
face to face a small band of soldiers who were travelling in the
opposite direction.

To crouch behind some rocks was the work of an instant.  There was no
thick underwood at the spot to conceal them.  As Ravonino glanced
quickly round, he saw that the only hope was to turn and run.  They
evidently had not been perceived, but what probability was there that
the two trembling girls beside him could escape by such means?

"We must fly, dear one," he said, in desperation, putting his arm round
Rafaravavy's waist.

"I cannot run," she said, while a look of resignation settled on her
face.  "Go, _you_ may escape, perhaps, if the Lord will, and bring us
help.  Leave us, we are ready to die."

"Leave you, Rafaravavy!" exclaimed the man, with a look almost of
triumph.  "No--not until my God commands.  May He help us now!"

While he spoke he observed a patch of rushes growing at the side of the
path.  As a last resource he ran in among them, leading or rather
dragging the two girls.  To their joy they found that the rushes grew in
a pool of water.  It was very shallow, but by lying down and sinking
themselves into the mud of the deepest part they managed to cover
themselves completely, except their heads, which the rushes effectually
concealed.

A few minutes later and the soldiers, reaching the crest of the hill,
halted to look round and chat.  If it had been broad day at the time the
fugitives must undoubtedly have been observed, but it was growing dark.
For a few terrible minutes the men conversed--always on the same theme--
the capture and death of Rafaravavy!  Then they resumed their march and
disappeared among the forest trees.

It was a deplorable plight in which the fugitives now found themselves.
Soaking wet, covered with mud from their necks downwards, and without
the prospect of any shelter for the coming night save that afforded by
the open forest.  Poor Sarah lost heart entirely for a little time and
burst into tears, but Rafaravavy, putting her hand on the maid's
shoulder, said encouragingly, "`The Lord reigneth.  We will not fear
what man can do unto us.'  Will you pray for us?" she added, turning to
their protector.

Ravonino at once kneeled; the two girls sank down beside him, and in few
but earnest, simple words he prayed for help in the all-prevailing name
of Jesus.

The vigour of body which flowed from the prayer was no fanciful emotion
or miraculous effect.  The confidence resulting from faith in God, and
the joy of soul and consequent flow of warm blood, were not less natural
consequences of prayer than direct answers to it would have been.  They
rose from their knees refreshed, and walked on with renewed energy for a
considerable time; but at last Rafaravavy was fairly overcome with
fatigue, and an irresistible desire to sleep.  Her maid, being of a more
robust physical fibre, was not so much overcome, and declared that she
could still go on easily.

Ravonino at last solved the difficulty by taking his lady-love in his
strong arms.  She submitted with a sleepy protest, and her little head
was no sooner on the man's shoulder than she was fast asleep.

And here again the power of joy to give strength became abundantly
evident, for when he fairly had Rafaravavy in his arms, a glow of
enthusiasm and thankfulness pervaded his entire being, so that he felt
as if he had scarcely walked any distance at all that day!  His
endurance, however, was not destined to be further tested that night,
for he had not gone far when he came unexpectedly on the hut of a
wood-cutter, who received him hospitably, though, being taciturn, it was
not easy to ascertain what were his views, as to the religion for which
so many people were then suffering.

Strange to say, during all this trying time, these fugitives found
comfort not only from the Word of God, but from the _Pilgrim's Progress_
of Bunyan!  This work had been translated into the Malagasy language by
the English missionaries, and many passages in it were found to be
singularly appropriate to, and comforting in the circumstances in which
the persecuted people were placed.  Eight copies of the great allegory
had been transcribed by the native Christians themselves for their
common use.  These being lent from one household to another the details
of the story soon spread.  Naturally those who possessed strong memories
learned much of it by heart, and thus it became a book which the
afflicted Christians prized next to the Bible.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1.  Extracted from _Madagascar, its Missions and Martyrs_, by E.
Prout, for the London Missionary Society.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE FOREST REFUGE--VOALAVO IS WAR-LIKE, RAVONINO PEACEFUL, AND FALSE
FRIENDS DANGEROUS.

We change the scene, now, to the profoundest recesses of the tangled
forest.  Here, in the deep shadow cast by the over-arching trees, two
native girls wandered out at an early hour one morning to converse about
things that interested them deeply--if the varying aspects of their
expressive faces were any index to their thoughts.  One was tall, dark,
majestic in mien and grave of countenance.  The other was comparatively
fair, of small stature, and evidently of lively yet timid disposition.
Need we say that they were Ramatoa, the sister of Laihova, and Ra-Ruth,
the sister of Ravonino?

"I fear they will never return to us," said Ra-Ruth, laying her hand on
her friend's arm.

"Say not so," replied Ramatoa, "we know not what blessings our God has
in store for us.  Only this we are sure of, that _all_ things will work
together for our good."

"But the Queen is so cruel!" objected her little friend.  "When her
anger is roused she will do anything.  Besides, has not the messenger
told us that the soldiers have been sent in hundreds over the country to
search for Christians, and spies are about everywhere.  Laihova, too,
has been separated from them, he says.  Perhaps he has been caught."

"I like not this messenger," said the other, with a touch of sternness
in her look and tone.  "He seems to me like a wolf in sheep's clothing.
He does not refer all things to God as `Our Father,' and in his use of
the Word he does not seem sincere.  I trust that he is not one of the
spies."

As she spoke her companion uttered a quick exclamation.  There was a
rustling in the bushes, and next moment, Laihova, springing out, clasped
Ra-Ruth in his arms.

"Thank God," he said, in deep earnest tones, as he released her.  "I am
not too late!"

"Brother," said Ramatoa, anxiously, laying a hand on the man's arm, "are
you alone?"

"Yes.  Have not Ravoninohitriniony and Rafaravavy arrived?"

"No.  And--and what of Mamba?" asked Ramatoa.

An expression of profound sadness crossed the features of Laihova.
Dropping his eyes on the ground he stood silent.  For a few moments his
sister did not speak, but her breast heaved with suppressed emotion.  At
last she asked in a low voice--

"Has he been martyred?"

"No--he is not dead.  But--he is condemned to slavery in chains for
life."

Terrible though this fate was, the news of it evidently conveyed a
measure of relief to Ramatoa, for it assured her that her lover was at
all events not dead.  Where there is life there is hope!

"I fear this will kill his mother," she said.  "Poor Reni-Mamba is so
full of love and gentleness, and her sorrows have been very heavy.
Strange that her husband and son should share the same fate--perpetual
slavery!  Yet it is not perpetual.  Death will set them free.  Come to
the cave and let us break the sad news."

As they walked through the forest, Ramatoa gave her brother a rapid
outline of what had occurred since the day he left.

"They will be deeply grieved," she said, "that our friends are not with
you.  We had all hoped that you would arrive together.  A messenger who
has just come did indeed tell us that you had been separated from them,
but all supposed that you would easily overtake them."

"True, sister, but I over-shot them.  That has been the way of it,"
returned Laihova, regretfully.

"Still, I feel sure that they will escape," continued the girl,
"Ravoninohitriniony has such a firm trust in God, and he is so strong
and brave and wise.  Besides, he has the blood of the white man in his
veins--he will succeed or die!"

This compliment to her brother, whether deserved or not, had the effect
of raising a flush of pleasure on Ra-Ruth's little face.

"Many things have happened since you left us," resumed Ramatoa.
"Razafil, the poet, has come to stay with us, and Voalavo too."

"Voalavo!" exclaimed Laihova in surprise, "is he not the chief of a
tribe that does not love Jesus?  And he was not a Christian when I saw
him last."

"He is a Christian _now_," returned the girl, quietly, "if I may judge
him by his works.  He has been our main stay since you went away.  Not
long after you left us he came, saying that you had told him about Jesus
delivering men from the power of sin, and he wanted to know about Him.
You may be sure we were glad to tell him all we knew.  He has never said
he is a Christian, but he has stayed with us ever since, and hunted for
us.  He is as active as the youngest men in getting and bringing in wild
fruits, and the youths are glad to have his wisdom and advice.  He
listens to us while we sing, and he prays in secret--I know that he
does, for I have overheard him.  Moreover, he has brought some of his
people over to our side.  He seems to be particularly fond of
Reni-Mamba, and she is fond of him--for he is funny."

"Yes; he is _very_ funny," responded Laihova, with profound gravity.

On reaching the cavern which we have described in a former chapter, they
found that most of the men were out, and the women were busy with those
culinary labours which tend to rejoice the hearts of hunters when they
return home.

The chief, Voalavo, was there, however, deeply engaged in studying--yes,
studying--_The Pilgrim's Progress_!  But he could not make much of it,
his education--at the hands of Ra-Ruth--having commenced only a few
weeks before.  Besides teaching the chief his letters, Ra-Ruth had read
to him large portions of the book, which had so fascinated him that he
had applied himself to his letters with a will, and, being an able man,
had begun to make rapid progress.  His desire, also, to be able to read
the Bible--when he began to understand what it was, and to perceive the
significance of some of its soul-stirring words--stimulated his active
mind to greater exertions.

The unfortunate poet, Razafil, also fell in with the wonderful allegory
in that cave for the first time, and it helped in no small degree to
turn his mind from brooding over the fate of his dear martyred daughter
Raniva.  His mind was quicker than that of the chief to perceive the
grand truths which underlie the story, and he was not a little
comforted.  Thus these two men, so very differently constituted, sat at
the feet of the fair Ra-Ruth, who being, as we have said, timid and
rather distrustful of herself, was overjoyed to find that even she could
help in advancing the cause of her Lord.

But it rather perplexed the little maiden when these same men, having
been gifted with inquiring minds, puzzled themselves over the question
why the Prince of the country in _The Pilgrim's Progress_ did not kill
Apollyon at once and have done with him.

"Or make him good," suggested Voalavo.

"True, that would have been better, perhaps, than killing him," assented
Razafil.

Like millions of the human race before them, the two men got out of
their depth here; but unlike too many thousands of the same race, they
did not permit such difficulties to interfere with their unshaken
confidence in the love and wisdom of that God, who certainly "doeth all
things well," whatever we in our pride and partial ignorance may think
of Him.

Voalavo's studies on the day we write of did not however engross him so
much as to prevent his starting up in great excitement when he heard the
sound of Laihova's voice.  He hastened to the entrance of the cavern,
and received his friend with his wonted effusive heartiness.  But he was
damped considerably on learning that Laihova came alone, that Mamba was
enslaved, and that Ravonino and Rafaravavy were still wandering in the
forest, pursued by their enemies.

"Come, my young men!" he shouted, flying into a sudden state of
indignation, and clapping his hands together like a pistol-shot, "we
will go and rouse our warriors.  Arm, and make to the rescue!  We will
dethrone the Queen--this Ranavalona--usurper!  Why should such a woman
live on, filling the land with blood and misery!"

"My friend," said Laihova, in a soothing tone, as he laid his hand on
the chief's shoulder, "the arms of Christians are not the arms of a
soldier.  We wrestle not against flesh and blood."

"That is idle talk," exclaimed the unpacified chief.  "Did not Christian
use a sword?  Did not Greatheart fight Apollyon with a sword?"

"True, but these were spiritual weapons," said Laihova.  "Moreover, if
you did rouse your people and march to the capital, what could you do?
Your whole tribe would appear but as a handful of dust in the eyes of
the Hova army."

"I would that we were a handful of dust!" snorted the chief, "and we'd
dash ourselves into the eyes of the Hova army and kill them while they
wept!"

"But there is nothing to prevent us from going forth to meet our
friends," rejoined Laihova, "and we can take our spears.  If they stand
in need of help we may give it."

This proposition fell in entirely with the war-like Voalavo's views,
and, a band of the young hunters and fruit-gatherers entering the cave
at that moment, he urged them to make haste with their dinner and get
ready for the war-path.

Ever-ready--as young blades usually are--for fighting, these youths
threw down their loads quickly.

And, truly, judging from the contents of the cavern larder that day,
there was no prospect of famine before the persecuted people.  In one
part of that larder there was abundance of beef and pork, also of game,
such as guinea-fowl, pheasants, partridges, peacocks, turkeys, geese,
ducks, pigeons, turtle-doves, and snipe.  In another place the vegetable
and fruit-gatherers had piled up little mounds of bread-fruit,
pine-apples, cocoa-nuts, yams, plantains, bananas, manioc-root, melons,
etcetera, much of which had been gathered from regions at a considerable
distance from their place of abode.  Thus they had laid up store for
many days, and felt somewhat elated.

But there were two hearts there which found it impossible to rejoice,
and very hard to submit to God.  Reni and Ramatoa retired to a dark
recess in the cave, and mingled their tears and prayers together.

"Oh! it would have been better if he had died!" sobbed Reni, "for then
he would have been with Jesus; but now it is awful to think of the
life-long slavery; and we shall never more see him on earth."

"Nay, mother, do not think thus.  Whatever God does _must_ be best,"
returned Ramatoa in a tremulous voice.  "Let us try to say `Thy will
be--'"

She broke down and finished the sentence with prayer for strength and
for a submissive spirit.

Meanwhile the war-like expedition, on which Voalavo and his youths were
only too ready to enter was rendered needless by the sudden appearance
of Ravonino himself, with Rafaravavy and Sarah!  After encountering
innumerable hardships and dangers those three had at last arrived at
their forest stronghold in safety.

"So then," remarked Laihova to Ra-Ruth, after the first enthusiastic
reception was over, "I have only over-shot them by a few hours after
all!"

"We were just going to sally forth to look for you--and fight if need
be," said Voalavo.

"There was no need for that," returned Ravonino, "the Lord was our
protector."

"Where is Reni-Mamba?  Have you heard, mother, about your son?"

Reni and Ramatoa, who had pressed forward, looked surprised, for their
friend did not speak like a man who had bad news to tell.

"Laihova has told me, truly," replied Reni, still whimpering, "that my
dear boy is worse than dead."

"Not so, mother," said Ravonino, taking the poor woman's hand, "be of
good cheer; Mamba is not dead.  I know not indeed where he is at this
moment, having been pressed in my own flight, but I know that the Queen
has set him free--this much I learned from our white friend, Mark
Breezy.  More I cannot tell, but is not this cause for joy and
gratitude?  Come, let us return thanks to our Father."

Most of those present were glad to give vent to their feelings in prayer
and praise, though some there were who, having been led to join the band
by the mere force of circumstances, had little heart in the matter.
Certainly Voalavo was not among these last, for the enthusiasm which
inclined him to fight with violence also induced him to pray with
vigour.

When this appropriate act of worship was over, food was prepared for the
wearied travellers, and in a short time the whole party was seated round
the cooking-fire, illuminated by the torches on the wall, and listening
eagerly to Ravonino as he recounted his adventures.

"I fear much," he said in conclusion, "that another dark season is about
to fall on us.  It may be like the last--or worse."

Ravonino here referred, (and with bated breath), to the terrible
outbreak of persecution which had occurred several years previously,
when, at the lowest estimate, about two thousand men and women were
severely punished, and many tortured and slain, because they professed
or favoured the religion of Jesus.

As, one after another, various members of the party detailed the sad
sufferings or deaths of relatives and friends, the feelings of all
became deeply affected with grief, those of some with a considerable
dash also of indignation.  Among the latter of course was Voalavo.

"Why," he cried suddenly, giving his hands the accustomed pistol-shot
clap that betrayed his inability to contain himself, "why do we suffer
all this?  Why not assemble the tribes, go up at once to Antananarivo,
take it, cut off the Queen's head, and put Prince Rakota on the throne?"

"Ay, why not?" demanded several of the more fiery young men.

"Because the Lord tells us to overcome evil with good," answered
Ravonino, quietly.  Then, wishing to draw attention from the subject, he
inquired for the messenger who had brought news of his own escape.

All looked round as if expecting the man to answer for himself, but no
one replied.

Search was made, and then it was discovered that the messenger had
hastily taken his departure from the place.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

DOCTOR BREEZY PRESCRIBES FOR THE QUEEN, AND ATTAINS TO TEMPORARY AND
"PERFIK F'LICITY."

While these events were taking place in the forest, Queen Ranavalona was
keeping her Court Physician and his comrades in a state of considerable
uneasiness, not only with reference to the safety of their own heads,
but because of her violent edicts regarding her Christian subjects.

She renewed her commands as to the necessity of every one coming
forward, on pain of instant death in the event of disobedience, and
accusing themselves, with the reiterated assurance that if they failed
to comply and they were afterwards accused by others they should be
subjected to the ordeal of the Tangena, and slain or reduced to
perpetual slavery if found guilty.

The whole city was in a panic.  No one felt safe.  Under the influence
of fear some accused themselves, expecting, no doubt, that their
punishment would be lightened.  Others remained quiet, hoping that they
might escape detection, while many were accused by false friends as well
as by enemies, and fell victims under the poison ordeal.  Others, again,
stood firm, and boldly proclaimed their faith in the Lord Jesus and
their readiness to die if need be for His cause.

After the accusations, trials, and investigations, sentences were read
which deprived four hundred officers and nobles of their honours, and
levied fines on the remainder to the number of about two thousand.  One
would have thought that the mere necessity for such widespread
punishment would have shown the Queen how deeply the new religion had
taken root, and how hopeless it was to attempt its suppression, but she
did not see it in that light.  On the contrary, she issued a mandate
requiring all books to be delivered up to her officers, and threatening
death against any who should keep back or hide even a single leaf.  She
also commanded her subjects never again even to "think of the Christian
lessons they had learned, but to blot them from their memories for
ever!"

Among those who boldly held to their opinions was the Queen's own son
Rakota, who, however, as we have seen, did not run quite so much risk as
others, owing to his mother's affection for him.  The Prime Minister's
son, also, and Prince Ramonja, made no effort to conceal their opinions,
though they were wise enough to refrain from exasperating the angry
Queen by asserting them openly.

One morning the Prime Minister sent a message to the Court Physician,
requiring his immediate attendance at the palace.  Mark was seated in
his own room at the time, talking with Hockins and Ebony about the
gloomy state of affairs.  A slight feeling of dismay fluttered the heart
of each when the message came, for death-warrants were much in the air
at that time.

"Oh, massa, p'r'aps dey're a-goin' to kill you!" was the negro's
comforting suggestion.

"More likely they want him to cure the Queen," said Hockins.

"Couldn't you, massa," whispered Ebony, with a terribly solemn
countenance, "mix a spoonful--a bery small spoonful--ob prussic acid, or
creosote, or suffin ob dat sort, wid 'er physic?"

Mark laughed, and shook his head as he went out.

He found Rainiharo, with a tremendous frown on his face and deep lines
of care on his brow, seated in front of our friend the Secretary, who
had an open book on his knee.  Three other officers of the palace sat
beside them.  These constituted a court of inquiry into the contents of
the suspected books, and the Secretary, being the only literary
character among them, was the appointed reader.

"Come here.  Sit down," said Rainiharo, sternly pointing to a seat; "we
want you to explain your books.  The Queen commands us to examine them,
and, if we find anything contrary to her wishes in them, to condemn them
to the flames.  But it seems to us that there is nothing in them but
rubbish which we cannot understand."

Strange, is it not, that in barbaric as well as in civilised lands,
people are apt to regard as rubbish that which they do not understand?

So thought the Court Physician, but he wisely held his tongue and sat
down.

"This book," said the Prime Minister, pointing with a look of mingled
contempt and exasperation to the volume on the Secretary's knee, "is
worse than the last.  The one we condemned yesterday was what you call
your Bible.  We began with it because it was the biggest book.  Being
practical men we began at the beginning, intending to go straight
through and give it a fair hearing.  We began at Gen--Gen--what was it?"

"Genesis," answered the Secretary.

"Genzis--yes.  Well, we found nothing to object to in the first verse,
but in the second--the very second--we found the word `darkness.'  This
was sufficient!  Queen Ranavalona does not like darkness, so we
condemned it at once--unanimously--for we could not for a moment
tolerate anything with _darkness_ in it."

Mark felt an almost irresistible desire to laugh outright, but as the
gratification of that desire might have cost him his head he did resist
it successfully.

"Now," continued the Prime Minister, with a darker frown, "we have got
to the Pil--Pil--what is it?"

"_Pilgrim's Progress_," answered the Secretary.  "Just so--the _Pilgim's
Progress_.  Well, we agreed that we would give the _Pil--Pilgim's
Progress_ a better chance, so we opened it, as it were, anyhow, and what
do we come on--the very first thing--but a man named Obstinate!  Now, if
there is one thing that the Queen hates more than another it is an
obstinate man.  She cannot abide obstinate men.  In fact, she has none
such about her, for the few men of that sort that have turned up now and
then have invariably lost their heads.  But we wanted to be fair, so we
read on, and what do we find as one of the first things that Obstinate
says?  He says, `Tush! away with your book!'  Now, if the man himself
condemns the book, is our Queen likely to spare it?  But there are some
things in the book which we cannot understand, so we have sent for you
to explain it.  Now," added Rainiharo, turning to the Secretary,
"translate all that to the maker of physic and tell me what he has to
answer."

It was a strange and difficult duty that our young student was thus
unexpectedly and suddenly called to perform, and never before had he
felt so deeply the difference between knowing a subject and expounding
it.  There was no escape, however, from the situation.  He was not only
bound by fear of his life, but by Scripture itself, "to give a reason of
the hope that was in him," and he rose to the occasion with vigour,
praying, mentally, for guidance, and also blessing his mother for having
subjected him in childhood--much against his will!--to a pretty stiff
and systematic training in the truths of Scripture as well as in the
story of the _Pilgrim's Progress_.

But no exposition that he could give sufficed to affect the foregone
conclusion that both the Bible and the Pilgrim, containing as they did
matter that was offensive to the Queen, were worthy of condemnation,
and, therefore, doomed to the flames.

Having settled this knotty point in a statesmanlike manner, Rainiharo
bade Mark and the Secretary remain with him, and dismissed his three
colleagues.

"You see," he said, after some moments of anxious thought, "although I
agree with the Queen in her desire to stamp out the Christian religion,
I have no desire that my son and my nephew should be stamped out along
with it; therefore I wish to have your assistance, doctor, in turning
the mind of Ranavalona away from persecution to some extent for in her
present mood she is dangerous alike to friend and foe.  Indeed I would
not give much for your own life if she becomes more violent.  How is
this to be done, think you?"

The question was indeed a puzzler, for it amounted to this--

"How are we to manage a furious, blood-thirsty woman with the reins
loose on her neck and the bit fast in her teeth?"

"I know not," said Mark at last, "but I will think the matter over and
talk with you again."

"If I may be allowed to speak," said the Secretary.

"You are allowed," returned the Premier.

"Then I would advise that the Queen should arrange a grand journey--a
procession--all over the country, with thousands of her soldiers.  This
will let her have plenty of fresh air and exercise, change of scene, and
excitement, and will give her something to do till her blood cools.  At
the same time it will show the people her great power and perhaps induce
them to be cautious how they resist her will."

"The idea is good," said Mark, with animation, "so good that I would
advise its being carried out immediately--even before another week
passes."

Rainiharo shook his head.  "Impossible.  There is to be a great
bull-fight this week, and you know Ranavalona will allow nothing to
interfere with that.  Besides, it takes time to get up such an
expedition as you suggest.  However, I like the notion well.  Go.  I
will think over it and see you again."

The bull-fighting to which the Premier referred was a favourite
amusement with this blood-thirsty woman, and the spectacle usually took
place in the royal court-yard.  Rainiharo was right when he said the
Queen would not forego it, but she was so pleased with the plan of a
royal progress through the country that she gave orders to make ready
for it at once in an extensive scale.

"You will of course accompany me," she said to Mark, when he was
summoned to a subsequent audience, "I may be ill, or my bearers may fall
and I may be injured."

"Certainly," he replied, "nothing would afford the Court Physician
greater pleasure than to attend upon her Majesty on such an expedition.
But I would ask a favour," continued Mark.  "May my black servant
accompany me?  He is very useful in assisting me with my medicines,
and--"

"Yes, yes," interrupted the Queen, "let him go with you by all means.
He shall have bearers if you choose.  And take yon other man also--with
his music.  I love his little pipe!"

In some excitement Mark went off to tell his comrades the news--which
Hockins received with a grunt of satisfaction, and the negro with a
burst of joy.  Indeed the anxieties and worries they had recently
experienced in the city, coupled with the tyranny and bloodshed which
they witnessed, had so depressed the three friends that the mere idea of
getting once again into the fresh free open plains and forests afforded
them pleasure somewhat akin to that of the school-boy when he obtains an
unexpected holiday.

Great was the excitement all over the country when the Queen's intention
was made known.  The idea was not indeed a novelty.  Malagasy sovereigns
had been in the habit of making such progresses from time to time in
former years.  The wise King Radama the First frequently went on hunting
expeditions with more or less of display.  But knowing as they did, only
too well, the cruel character of Ranavalona the First, the people feared
that the desire to terrify and suppress had more to do with the event
than pleasure or health.

At last, everything being complete, the Queen left the capital, and
directed her course to the south-westward.  Her enormous retinue
consisted of the members of the Government, the principal military and
civil officers and their wives, six thousand soldiers, and a host of
slaves, bearers, and other attendants; the whole numbering about 40,000
souls.

Great preparations had been made for the journey in the way of providing
large stores of rice, herds of cattle, and other provisions, but those
who knew the difficulties of the proposed route, and the thinly
populated character of the country, looked with considerable
apprehension on the prospects of the journey.  Some there were, no
doubt, who regarded these prospects with a lively hope that the Queen
might never more return to her capital!

Of course such a multitude travelled very slowly, as may well be
believed when it is said that they had about 1500 palanquins in the
host, for there was not a wheeled vehicle in Madagascar at that time.
The soldiers were formed in five divisions; one carrying the tents, one
the cooking apparatus and spears, and one the guns and sleeping-mats.
The other two had always to be in readiness for any service required
about the Queen.  The camp was divided into four parts; the Queen being
in the middle, in a blue tent, surrounded, wherever she halted for the
night, by high palisades, and near to this was pitched a tent containing
the idols of the royal family.  The tent of the Prime Minister, with the
Malagasy flag, was pitched to the north of that of the Queen.  East,
west, and south, were occupied by other high officers of State, and
among the latter was the tent of our friends, Mark, Hockins, and Ebony.

"Now," said the first of these, as he sat in the door of the tent one
evening after supper, watching the rich glow of sunshine that flooded a
wide stretch of beautiful country in front of him, "this would be
perfect felicity if only we had freedom to move about at our own
pleasure and hunt up the treasures in botany, entomology, etcetera, that
are scattered around us."

"True, Massa," returned Ebony, "it would be perfik f'licity if we could
forgit de poor Christ'ns in chains an' pris'ns."

"Right, Ebony, right.  I am selfishly thinking only of myself at the
present moment.  But let us hope we may manage to do these poor
Christians good before we leave the land."

"I don't think, myself, that we'll get much fun out o' this trip,"
remarked Hockins.  "You see the Queen's too fond o' your physickin' and
of my tootootlin' to part with us even for a day at a time.  If we was
like Ebony, now, we might go where we liked an' no one ud care."

"Ob course not," replied the negro, promptly, "peepil's nebber anxious
about whar wise men goes to; it's on'y child'in an' stoopid folk dey's
got to tink about.  But why not ax de Queen, massa, for leabe ob absence
to go a-huntin'?"

"Because she'd be sure to refuse," said Mark.  "No, I see no way out of
this difficulty.  We are too useful to be spared!"

But Mark was wrong.  That very night he was sent for by the Prime
Minister, and as he passed the Secretary's tent he called him out to act
as interpreter.  On reaching the tent on the north side they found
Rainiharo doubled up on his mat and groaning in agony.

"What's wrong?" demanded the doctor.

"Everything!" replied the patient.

"Describe your feelings," said the doctor.

"I've--I've got a red-hot stone," groaned Rainiharo, "somewhere in my
inwards!  Thorny shrubs are revolving in my stomach!  Young crocodiles
are masticating my--oh!"

At this point his power of description failed; but that matters little,
for, never having met with the disease before, we can neither describe
it nor give it a name.  The young doctor did not know it, but he knew
exactly what to do, and did it.  We cannot report what he did, but we
can state the result, which was great relief in a few minutes and a
perfect cure before morning!  Most men are grateful under such
circumstances--even the cruel Rainiharo was so.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, affectionately, next day.

A sudden inspiration seized the doctor, "Beg the Queen," he said, "to
let me and my two friends wander round the host all day, and every day,
for a short time, and I will return to report myself each night."

"For what purpose?" asked the Premier, in some surprise.

"To pluck plants and catch butterflies."

"Is the young doctor anxious to renew his childhood?"

"Something of the sort, no doubt.  But there is medicine in the plants,
and--and--interest, if nothing else, in the butterflies."

"Medicine in the plants" was a sufficient explanation to the Premier.
What he said to the Queen we know not, but he quickly returned with the
required permission, and Mark went to his couch that night in a state of
what Ebony styled "perfik f'licity."

Behold our trio, then, once more alone in the great forests of
Madagascar--at least almost alone, for the Secretary was with them, for
the double purpose of gaining instruction and seeing that the strangers
did not lose themselves.  As they were able to move about twice as fast
as the host, they could wander around, here, there, and everywhere, or
rest at pleasure without fear of being left behind.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

IN WHICH A HAPPY CHANGE FOR THE BETTER IS DISASTROUSLY INTERRUPTED.

One very sultry forenoon Mark and his party--while out botanising,
entomologising, philosophising, etcetera, not far from but out of sight
of the great procession--came to the brow of a hill and sat down to
rest.

Their appearance had become somewhat curious and brigand-like by that
time, for their original garments having been worn-out were partially
replaced by means of the scissors and needle of John Hockins--at least
in the trousers department.  That worthy seaman having, during his
travels, torn his original trousers to shreds from the knee downwards,
had procured some stout canvas in the capital and made for himself
another pair.  He was, like most sailors, expert at tailoring, and the
result was so good that Mark and Ebony became envious.  The seaman was
obliging.  He set to work and made a pair of nether garments for both.
Mark wore his pair stuffed into the legs of a pair of Wellington boots
procured from a trader.  Ebony preferred to cut his off short, just
below the knee, thus exposing to view those black boots supplied to
negroes by Nature, which have the advantage of never wearing out.
Hockins himself stuck to his navy shirt, but the others found striped
cotton shirts sufficient.  A native straw hat on Mark's head and a silk
scarf round his waist, with a cavalry pistol in it, enhanced the
brigand-like aspect of his costume.

This pistol was their only fire-arm, the gun having been broken beyond
repair, but each carried a spear in one hand, a gauze butterfly-net in
the other, and a basket, in lieu of a specimen-box, on his shoulder.
Even the Secretary, entering into the spirit of the thing; carried a net
and pursued the butterflies with the ardour of a boy.

"Oh! massa," exclaimed Ebony, wiping the perspiration from his forehead
with a bunch of grass, "I _do_ lub science!"

"Indeed, why so?" asked Mark, sitting down on a bank opposite his
friend.

"Why, don't you see, massa, it's not comfortabil for a man what's got
any feelin's to go troo de land huntin' an' killin' cattle an' oder
brutes for _noting_.  You can't eat more nor one hox--p'r'aps not dat.
So w'en you've kill 'im an' eaten so much as you can, dar's no more fun,
for what fun is dere in slaughterin' hoxes for _noting_?  Den, if you
goes arter bees an' butterflies on'y for fun, w'y you git shamed ob
yourself.  On'y a chile do dat.  But science, dat put 'im all right!
Away you goes arter de bees and butterflies an' tings like mad--ober de
hills an' far away--troo de woods, across de ribbers--sometimes into
'em!--crashin' an' smashin' like de bull in de china-shop, wid de proud
feelin' bustin' your buzzum dat you're advancin' de noble cause ob
science--dat's what you call 'im, `noble?'--yes.  Well, den you come
home done up, so pleasant like, an' sot down an' fix de critters up wid
pins an' gum an' sitch-like, and arter dat you show 'em to your larned
friends an' call 'em awrful hard names, (sometimes dey seem like _bad_
names!) an'--oh!  I _do_ lub science!  It's wot I once heard a captin ob
a ribber steamer in de States call a safety-balve wot lets off a deal o'
'uman energy.  He was a-sottin on his own safety-balve at de time, so he
ought to have know'd suffin about it."

"I say, Ebony," asked Hockins, "where did you pick up so much larnin'
about science--eh?"

"I pick 'im in Texas--was 'sistant to a German nat'ralist dar for two
year.  Stuck to 'im like a limpit till he a-most busted hisself by
tumblin' into a swamp, smashin' his spectacles, an' ketchin' fever, w'en
he found hisself obleeged to go home to recroot--he called it--though
what dat was I nebber rightly understood, unless it was drinkin' brandy
an' water; for I noticed that w'en he said he needed to recroot, he
allers had a good stiff pull at de brandy bottle."

Ebony's discourse was here cut short by the sudden appearance of an
enormous butterfly, which the excitable negro dashed after at a
breakneck pace in the interests of science.  The last glimpse they had
of him, as he disappeared among the trees, was in a somewhat peculiar
attitude, with his head down and his feet in the air!

"That's a sign he has missed him," remarked Hockins, beginning to fill
his pipe--the tobacco, not the musical, one!  "I've always observed that
when Ebony becomes desperate, and knows he can't git hold of the thing
he's arter, he makes a reckless plunge, with a horrible yell, goes right
down by the head, and disappears like a harpooned whale."

"True, but have you not also observed," said Mark, "that like the whale
he's sure to come to the surface again--sooner or later--and generally
with the object of pursuit in possession?"

"I b'lieve you're right, doctor," said the seaman, emitting a prolonged
puff of smoke.

"Does he always go mad like that?" asked the Secretary, who was much
amused.

"Usually," replied Mark, "but he is generally madder than that.  He's in
comparatively low spirits to-day.  Perhaps it is the heat that affects
him.  Whew! how hot it is!  I think I shall take a bath in the first
pool we come to."

"That would only make you hotter, sir," said Hockins.  "I've often tried
it.  At first, no doubt, when you gits into the water it cools you, but
arter you come out you git hotter than before.  A _hot_ bath is the
thing to cool you comfortably."

"But we can't get a hot bath here," returned Mark.

"You are wrong," said the Secretary, "we have many natural hot springs
in our land.  There is one not far from here."

"How far?" asked Mark with some interest.

"About two rice-cookings off."

To dispel the reader's perplexity, we may explain at once that in
Madagascar they measure distances by the time occupied in cooking a pot
of rice.  As that operation occupies about half-an-hour, the Secretary
meant that the hot spring was distant about two half-hours--that is,
between three and four miles off.

"Let's go an' git into it at once," suggested Hockins.

"Better wait for Ebony," said Mark.  Then--to the Secretary--"Yours is a
very interesting and wonderful country!"

"It is, and I wonder not that European nations wish to get possession of
it--but that shall _never_ be."

Mark replied, "I hope not," and regarded his friend with some surprise,
for he had spoken with emphasis, and evidently strong feeling.  "Have
you fear that any of the nations wish to have your country?"

"Yes, we have fear," returned the Secretary, with an unwontedly stern
look.  "They have tried it before; perhaps they will try it again.  But
they will fail.  Has not God given us the land?  Has not He moved the
hearts of Engleesh men to send to us the Bible?  Has not his Holy Spirit
inclined our hearts to receive that Word?  Yes--it has come.  It is
planted.  It _must_ grow.  The European nations cannot hinder it.
Ranavalona cannot stamp it out.  False friends and open foes cannot
crush it.  The Word of God will civilise us.  We will rise among the
nations of the earth when the love of Jesus spreads among us--for that
love cures every evil.  It inclines as well as teaches us to deny self
and do good.  It is not possible for man to reach a higher point than
that!  Deny self!  Do good!  We are slow to learn, but it is _sure_ to
come at last, for is it not written that `the knowledge of the Lord
shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea'?"

"I believe you are right," said Mark, much impressed with this outburst
and the earnest enthusiasm of his friend's manner.  "And," he continued,
"you have a noble country to work on--full of earth's riches."

"You say noting but the truth," answered the Secretary in a gratified
tone.  "Is not our island as big--or more big--as yours--nearly the same
as France?  And look around!  We have thousands of cattle, tame and
wild, with which even now we send large supplies to foreign markets, and
fowls innumerable, both wild and tame.  Our soil is rich and prolific.
Are not our vegetables and fruits innumerable and abundant?  Do not
immense forests traverse our island in all directions, full of trees
that are of value to man--trees fit for building his houses and ships
and for making his beautiful furniture, as well as those that supply
cocoa-nuts, and figs, and fruits, and gums, and dyes?  And have we not
the silkworm in plenty, and cotton-plants, and sugar-cane, and many
spices, and the great food-supply of our people--rice, besides minerals
which make nations rich, such as iron and gold?  Yes, we have everything
that is desirable and good for man.  But we have a climate which does
not suit the white man.  Yet _some_ white men, like yourself, manage to
live here.  Is not this a voice, from God?  He does not speak to us with
the tongue of man, but He speaks with a still, small voice, as easy to
understand.  He has surrounded our island with unhealthy shores.  Does
not that tell the white man not to come here?  Your London Missionary
Society sent us the Bible.  God bless them for that!  They have done
well.  But they have done enough.  We desire not the interference of
England or France in our affairs.  We do not want your divisions, your
sects.  We have the Word.  God will do the rest.  We want no white
nations to _protect_ us.  We want to be let alone to protect and develop
ourselves, with the Bible for our guide and the Holy Spirit as our
teacher.  You Englishmen were savages once, and the Word of God came and
raised you.  You only continue to be great because the Bible keeps you
still in the right path.  What it has done for you it will do for us.
All we ask for is to be let alone!"

The Secretary had become quite excited on this theme, and there is no
saying how much longer he might have gone on if Ebony had not returned,
scratched, bruised, bleeding, panting and perspiring, but jubilant, with
an enormous butterfly captive in his net, and the cause of science
advanced.

Having secured the specimen, they set off at once to visit the hot
springs, after pricking a traveller's tree with a spear and obtaining a
refreshing draught of cool clear water therefrom.

Fountains of mineral waters have been found in many, parts of
Madagascar, and among them several which are called Rano-mafana, or
"warm waters."  These vary both in temperature and medicinal properties.
The spot when reached was found to be a small cavity in the rocks which
was delightfully shaded by the leaves of the wild fig, and by a number
of interwoven and overhanging bamboos.  The branches of the fig-trees
spread directly across the stream.

Hastening to the fountain, Hockins thrust his hand in, but quickly
pulled it out again, for the water was only a few degrees below the
boiling-point.

"Too hot to bathe in!" he said.

"But not too hot _here_," remarked Ebony, going to a pool a little
further from the fountain-head, where the water had cooled somewhat.
There the negro dropped his simple garments, and was soon rolling like a
black porpoise in his warm bath.  It was only large enough for one, but
close to it was another small pool big enough for several men.  There
Mark and Hockins were soon disporting joyously, while the Secretary
looked on and laughed.  Evidently he did not in the circumstances deem
warm water either a necessity or a luxury.

That evening, after returning to camp, Mark was summoned to lay the
result of his labours before the Queen, who was much interested in his
collection of plants, and not a little amused with his collection of
insects; for she could understand the use of the medicines which her
Court Physician assured her could be extracted from the former, but
could see no sense whatever in collecting winged and creeping things,
merely to be stuck on pins and looked at and saddled with
incomprehensible names!  She did indeed except the gorgeous butterflies,
and similar creatures, because these were pretty; but on the whole she
felt disposed to regard her physician as rather childish in that
particular taste.

Very different was her opinion of John Hockins.  So fond was she of the
flageolet of that musical and stalwart tar that she sent for him almost
every evening and made him pipe away to her until he almost fell asleep
at his duty, so that at last he began to wish that flageolets had never
been invented.

"It's nothin' but blow, blow, blow, day arter day," he growled as he
returned to his tent one night and flung down the little instrument in
disgust.  "I wish it had bin blow'd up the time your big Roman candle
busted, doctor."

"If it had been, your influence with the Queen would have been gone,
John."

"Well, I dun-know, sir.  Many a queer gale I've come through in time
past, but this blow beats 'em all to sticks an' whistles."

"Nebber mind, 'Ockins," remarked Ebony, who was busy preparing supper at
the time, "we's habbin good times ob it just now.  Plenty fun an' lots
ob science!  Come--go at your wittles.  We've hard work besides fun
before us demorrow."

Ebony was a true prophet in regard to the hard work, but not as to the
fun, of the morrow; for it so happened that two events occurred which
threw a dark cloud over the expedition, for some, at least, in the royal
procession, and induced the Queen to return to the capital sooner than
she had intended.

The first of these events was the discovery of a party of sixteen
fugitives who were of suspicious character and unable to give account of
themselves.

They had been discovered by the Queen's spies hidden in a rice-house.
When brought before the officer who examined them, they were at first
silent; when pressed, they spoke a little, but nothing of importance
could be gathered from them.  At last they seemed to make up their minds
to acknowledge who they were, for one of them stood forth boldly and
said--

"Since you ask us again and again, we will tell you.  We are not robbers
or murderers.  We are praying people.  If this makes us guilty in the
kingdom of the Queen, then, whatsoever she does, we must submit to
suffer.  We are ready to die for the name of the Lord Jesus."

"Is this, then," asked the officer, "your final answer, whether for life
or death?"

"It is our final answer, whether for life or for death."

When this was reported to the Queen, all her anger was stirred up again.
She ordered the captives to be chained and sent off at once to
Antananarivo.  Two of the band managed to escape that night, but the
other fourteen were safely lodged in prison.

The countenance of Ranavalona was now changed.  She took no pleasure in
Mark's collections, and sent no more for the musical seaman.  To make
matters worse, there came in, on the following day, a report that some
of her soldiers had captured a large band of fugitives in a distant part
of the country, and were then marching them in chains to the capital.
As this band was at the time approaching, the Queen gave orders to halt
on an eminence that overlooked the path along which they had to travel,
that she might see them.

It was about noon when they drew near-worn, weary, and footsore.  The
Queen was so placed among the bushes that she could see the captives
without being herself seen.  Her chief officers stood near her.  Mark
and his companions had taken up a position much nearer to the forest
path.

First came a band of weary little ones, driven onwards like a flock of
sheep, and apparently too much terrified by what they had undergone to
make much noise, although most of them were weeping.  Next came a group
of women.  These, like the children, were not bound, but the men, who
walked in rear, were chained together--two and two.  Soldiers guarded
them on every side.

"It is profoundly sad!" said Mark, in a deep sorrowful tone.  "God help
them!"

"Massa," whispered Ebony, "look dar!  Sure I knows some ob--"

He stopped and opened wide his eyes, for at that moment he recognised
Rafaravavy and Ramatoa among the women.  With something like a groan,
Hockins turned a glance on his comrades and pointed to the men.  They
required no second glance to enlighten them, for there they plainly saw
Ravonino heavily ironed by the neck to Laihova, and Razafil, the poet,
chained to the chief, Voalavo.  Many others whom they did not know were
also there.  These all trudged along with bowed heads and eyes on the
ground, like men who, having gone through terrible mental and physical
agony, have either become callous or resigned to their fate.

As the Queen had given orders to her people to keep quiet and out of
sight, the poor captives knew nothing of the host that gazed at them.
Mark and his friends were so horrified that all power to move or speak
failed them for a time.  As for Ranavalona, she sat in rigid silence,
like a bronze statue, with compressed lips and frowning brows, until
they had passed.  Then she gave orders to encamp where they stood, and
retired in silence to her tent.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

IN WHICH TERRIBLE BUT TRUE MARTYRDOMS ARE DESCRIBED.

Matters had now reached a crisis.  Although suffering from illness--
partly brought on, or aggravated, by her unrestrained passions--the
Queen gave orders next day for the host to turn homeward.  Travelling
more rapidly than she had yet done, she soon reached the capital.

There the arrival of the captives and the news of what had occurred
prepared them for the worst.  And the worst was not long of coming.  The
very day following the Queen's return, a great assembly, or Kabary, of
the whole people was called.  None were exempted from the meeting.  High
and low, rich and poor, sick and healthy, were driven to the great place
of assembly near the palace--literally driven, for officers were sent as
usual to break into the houses of the people, when necessary, and force
them to attend.  And there was no way of escape, for at the time of the
summons being sent out every outlet from the city was guarded by
soldiers, and the cannon along the heights thundered a salute by way of
striking terror into the hearts of the rebellious.  Well did the poor
people know what all this foreshadowed.  One who was an eye-witness of
the scene said, "there was a general howling and wailing, a rushing and
running through the streets, as if the town had been attacked by a
hostile army."  At last the great square of the city was crowded, as
full as it could hold, with hundreds of thousands of people, who were
overawed by the presence of a body of troops fifteen thousand strong as
they awaited the announcement of the Queen's pleasure.

Mark Breezy was there, along with his comrades, on an elevated spot near
to the place where the Queen's messenger was to make the proclamation.

"We are utterly helpless here," said Mark in a low voice, as he gazed in
pity on the groaning and swaying multitude.  "The Queen's countenance is
changed to me.  I feel sure that either we have been betrayed in the
matter of Rafaravavy, or we are suspected.  Indeed, if it were not that
she is ill, and needs my aid, she would certainly banish us all from her
dominions."

"I wish I was well out of 'em," growled Hockins.  "The country is well
enough, no doubt, but a woman like that makes it a hell-upon-earth!"

"Has you hear, massa, whar dey hab put Ravonino an' our oder friends?"
asked Ebony.

"No, I did not dare to ask.  And even if we knew we could do nothing!"

The youth spoke bitterly, for he had become so much attached to their
former guide, and the natives with whom they had sojourned and
travelled, that he would have fought for them to the death if that could
have availed them.  Strong and active young men are apt to become bitter
when they find that superabundant energy and physical force are in some
circumstances utterly useless.  To be compelled to stand by inactive and
see injustice done--cruelty and death dealt out, while the blood boils,
the nerves quiver, and the violated feelings revolt, is a sore trial to
manhood!  And such was the position of our three adventurers at that
time.

Presently the highest civil and military officers came forth, one of
whom, in a loud sonorous voice, delivered the message of his terrible
mistress.

After a number of complimentary and adulatory phrases to the Queen
herself, and many ceremonial bowings towards the palace, as if she
actually heard him, the messenger spoke as follows--

"I announce to you, O people, that I am not a Sovereign that deceives.
I find that, in spite of my commands, many of my people revile the idols
and treat divination as a trifle, and worship the Christians' God, and
pray, and baptize, and sing--which things I abhor.  They are unlawful.
I detest them, and they are not to be done, saith Ranavalo-Manjaka.  I
will not suffer it.  Those who dare to disobey my commands shall die.
Now, I order that all who are guilty shall come in classes according to
their offences, and accuse themselves of being baptized, of being
members of the Church, of having taught slaves to read, and that all
books shall be given up."

As on a previous occasion, many came forward at once and accused
themselves, or gave up their Bibles and Testaments; but, as before,
others concealed their treasures and held their tongue, although it was
evident that on this occasion the Queen uttered no vain threat, but was
terribly in earnest.

The proclamation ended, the people dispersed, and Mark and his friends
were returning to their quarters when they were arrested by a party of
soldiers.  As usual, their first impulse was to resist violently, but
wisdom was given them in time, and they went quietly along.  Of course
Mark protested vehemently both in English and in broken Malagasy, but no
attention whatever was paid to his words.  They were led to a prison
which they had not before seen.  As they approached the door the sound
of singing was heard.  Another moment and they were thrust into the room
whence the sounds issued, and the door was locked upon them.

At first they could only see dimly, the place was so dark; but in a few
seconds, their eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom, they could see
that a number of other prisoners--both men and women--were seated round
the walls singing a hymn.  When the hymn ceased an exclamation from a
familiar voice made them turn round, and there they saw their friend
Ravonino seated on the floor with his back against the wall and chained
to Laihova and to the floor.  Beside him were several well-remembered
natives, and on the opposite side of the room, also chained, were the
women of the party, among whom were Ramatoa, Ra-Ruth, Rafaravavy, her
maid Sarah, and the poor mother of Mamba.

"Ravonino!" exclaimed Mark, in tones of profound sorrow, as he sat down
beside his old guide, "I little thought to find you in such a strait."

"Even so, sir," returned the man in a gentle voice, "for so it seems
good in His eyes!  But still less did I expect to find you in prison--
for the way they thrust you in shows me that you are no mere visitor.  I
fear me, the cruel woman has found out how kind you were in helping me."

"But surely dar some hope for you!  Dey nebber kill you all!" said the
negro, waving his hand round as if to indicate the whole party.

"No hope, no hope," returned Ravonino, sadly, "Not even for you, Ebony,
because you are only a black man.  But they won't kill _you_, sir, or
Hockins.  They know better than to risk the consequences of putting a
British subject to death.  For the rest of us--our doom is sealed."

"If the Lord wills it so," remarked Laihova, quietly.

"How do you know that the Lord wills it so?" demanded a voice fiercely,
and a man who had hitherto sat still with his face buried in his hands
looked up.  It was the stout chief Voalavo, all whose fun of disposition
seemed to have been turned to fury.  "You all speak as if you were
already dead men!  Are we not alive?  Have we not stout hearts and
strong limbs?  While life remains there is hope!"

He leaped up as he spoke and began to wrench at his chain like a
maddened tiger, until blood spurted from his wrists and the swollen
veins stood out like cords from his neck and forehead.  But iron proved
tougher than flesh.  He sank down, exhausted, with a deep groan--yet
even in his agony of rage the strong man murmured as he fell, "Lord
forgive me!"

While the men conversed, and Ebony sought to soothe Voalavo, with whom
he had strong sympathy most of the poor women opposite were seated in a
state of quiet resignation.  Some there were, however, who could not
bring their minds to contemplate with calmness the horrible fate that
they knew too well awaited them, while others seemed to forget
themselves in their desire to comfort their companions.  Among the timid
ones was pretty little Ra-Ruth.  Perhaps her vivid imagination enabled
her to realise more powerfully the terrors of martyrdom.  It may be that
her delicately-strung nerves shrank more sensitively from the prospect,
but in spite of her utmost efforts to be brave she trembled violently
and was pale as death.  Yet she did not murmur, she only laid her head
on the sympathetic bosom of her queen-like friend Ramatoa, who seemed to
her a miracle of strength and resignation.

In a short time the door of the prison opened, and a party of armed men
entered with Silver Spear, or Hater of Lies, at their head.  An
involuntary shudder ran through the group of captives as the man
advanced and looked round.

"Which is Razafil?" demanded Hater of Lies.

The poet rose promptly.  "Here I am," he said, looking boldly at the
officer.  Then, glancing upwards, and in a voice of extreme tenderness,
he said, "Now, my sweet Raniva, I will soon join you!"

"Ramatoa--which is she?" said the officer, as his men removed the
fetters from the poet and fastened his wrists with a cord.

Ramatoa at once rose up.  "I am ready," she said, calmly.  "Now,
Ra-Ruth, the Master calls me.  Fear not what man can do unto thee."

"Oh! no, no! do not go yet," exclaimed Ra-Ruth in an agony of grief, as
she clung to her friend.  "The good Lord cannot mean this--oh! take
_me_! take _me_! and let her stay!"

The sentence ended in a low wail, for at the moment two soldiers forced
the girls asunder, and Ra-Ruth sank upon the floor, while Ramatoa was
led away.

Poor Laihova had watched every movement of Ra-Ruth.  It was, no doubt,
the fiercest part of the fiery trial he had to undergo; and when the
soldier grasped her arms to tear her from her friend he could restrain
himself no longer.  He sprang up and made a wild leap towards her, but
the chain arrested him effectually, and three bayonets were quickly
pointed at his breast.  His head fell forward, and he sank down like one
who had been shot.

Meanwhile Hater of Lies selected Ra-Ruth and twelve others from the
group of prisoners, but only the three whom we have mentioned are known
to the reader.  They were led into an outer room, where they were
further pinioned.  Some of them had their feet and hands tied together,
so that, by thrusting a pole between the legs and arms of each, they
could be suspended and carried by two men.  Others were allowed to walk
to the place of execution.  The rage of Ranavalona, however, was so
great on finding that the Christians would not submit to her that she
had given orders to the soldiers to torture the martyrs with their
spears as they marched along the road.  This was done to all except
Ramatoa and Ra-Ruth, as the blood-stained road bore witness.  The
comfort of being together was not allowed to the two ladies.  They were
placed in different parts of the procession.

Mats were thrust into the mouths of the suspended victims to prevent
them from speaking, but some of them managed to free their mouths and
prayed aloud, while others sang hymns or addressed the crowd.  Thus they
passed along the road that led to the Place of Hurling Down.

This was a tremendous precipice of granite, 150 feet high.  Thither the
multitude streamed--some influenced by hatred of the Christians, some by
deep sympathy with them, but the majority, doubtless, prompted by mere
excitement and curiosity.  And there they crowded as near as they dared
venture to the edge of the precipice and gazed into the awful gulf.

Slowly the procession moved, as if to prolong the agony of the martyrs.
Suddenly a young man pushed through the crowd, advanced to the side of
Ramatoa, and grasped one of her hands, exclaiming in a loud voice,
"Dearest!  I will go with you and stay by you to the end."

For a moment the calm serenity that had settled on the girl's fine
countenance was disturbed.

"Mamba!" she said, "this is not wise.  You cannot save me.  It is God's
will that I should now glorify the dear name of Jesus by laying down my
life.  But you are not yet condemned, and your mother needs your help."

"Full well do I know that," returned the youth, fervently.  "Were it not
for my dear mother's love and claim on me, I would now have gone with
you to heaven.  As it is, I will stay by you, dear one, to the end."

"Thank you, dear friend," returned the girl, earnestly.  "I think it
will not be long till we meet where there are no more sufferings or
tears."

Soon the procession reached the brow of the terrible cliff.  Here the
martyrs were ranged in such a way that, while they were cast over one by
one, the rest could see their companions fall.

The first to perish was the poet Razafil.  After the Queen's messenger
had pronounced the sentence of each, the poor man was seized and thrown
violently on the ground.  A rope was then fastened round his waist, and
he was asked if he would cease to pray in the name of Jesus.

"Cease to pray to Jesus!" he exclaimed, while the fire of enthusiasm
gleamed in his eyes--"to Jesus who saved my Raniva, and who holds out
His blessed hands to me--even me--to take me to Himself?  _Never_!"

Razafil was instantly slung over the precipice, and held suspended there
in the hope that the awful nature of his impending fate might cause his
courage to fail, while the executioner knelt, knife in hand, ready to
cut the rope.

"Once more, and for the last time," said the officer in command, "will
you cease to pray?"

The answer was an emphatic "No!"

Next moment Razafil went shooting down headlong into the abyss.  There
was a projecting ledge of rock about fifty feet down the precipice.  On
this the body of the martyr struck, and, bounding off into space,
reached the bottom with incredible violence, a shattered and mangled
heap.

With trembling hearts and straining gaze the other victims watched the
descent.  It seemed to be more than human nature could endure to
voluntarily face such a fate when a word would deliver them.  So thought
many of the spectators, and they were right; mere human nature could not
have endured it, but these Christians were strengthened in a way that
the ungodly will neither believe nor understand.  One by one they were
led to the edge of the cliff, suspended over the edge, and had the
testing-question put to them, and, one by one, the answer was a decisive
"No!"

But where was the tyrant Queen while this scene of butchery was being
enacted?  In her chamber in the palace--comparatively, yet not
altogether, regardless of the matter.

Her son Rakota stood beside her.  Our friend the Secretary stood at the
door.

"Mother," said the Prince, quietly, "they are being hurled down now--and
little Ra-Ruth is among them."

The Queen looked up, startled.  "No, no!" she said, hesitatingly.
"Ra-Ruth must not--but--but--I must not seem to my people to be weak--
yet I would save her."

Rakota gave a gentle nod to the Secretary, who instantly vanished.  He
reached the place of execution only just in time.  The rope was already
round the girl's slender waist, and the testing-question had been put--
but her timidity had flown, and was replaced by a calm, almost angelic,
expression, as she gazed up to Heaven, clasped her hands, and, with a
flush of enthusiasm, exclaimed--

"No--Jesus--no, I will _never_ cease to worship Thee!"

A murmur of mingled surprise and pity broke from the crowd.  At that
moment the Secretary came forward.

"The Queen," he said, "has sent me to ask you, Ra-Ruth, whether you will
not worship our gods and save your life."

"No," answered the girl, firmly.  "I have been weak--a coward--but now
God has sent me strength by His own Holy Spirit, and my fixed
determination is to go this day with my dear brothers and sisters to
Heaven."

"You are a fool!  You are _mad_!" exclaimed an officer standing by, as
he struck her on the head.

"Yes, she is _mad_," said the Secretary to the officer in command.
"Send a messenger to tell the Queen that Ra-Ruth has lost her reason.
Meanwhile, let her be taken away and guarded well till the Queen's
pleasure regarding her is known."

But although this poor girl was thus snatched from death at the last
moment, no mercy was extended to the others.  All were thrown over the
cliff and dashed to pieces at that time except Ramatoa.  When the
question was put to her, last of all, she, as might have been expected,
was not less firm in her reply than her companions; but, instead of
being thrown over, she was informed that as it was not allowable to shed
the blood of one of noble birth she was to be burnt alive!

At this dreadful announcement she turned paler than before, but did not
flinch.  At the same moment poor Mamba lost control of himself.  He
sprang to her side, put an arm round her waist, and shouted--

"This shall not be!  I, too, am a praying man.  Ye shall not touch her!"

He glared fiercely round, and, for a moment, the soldiers did not dare
to approach him, although he was totally unarmed.  But they sprang on
him from behind, and he was quickly overpowered by numbers.  At the
command of their officer, they tore him from Ramatoa, carried him to the
cliff, and hurled him over.  His head struck the ledge, and his brains
were dashed out there.  Next moment he lay dead among the rocks at the
bottom.

This awful sight Ramatoa was spared, for, at the same instant, they had
dragged her away to the spot where a pile of wood had been prepared for
herself.  Four stakes were fixed in the midst of the pile, as three
other Christian nobles were to be burnt along with her, one of whom was
a lady.  While Ramatoa watched the preparations for her death, her
fellow-sufferers arrived--singing, as they walked, a hymn which begins
with, "When our hearts are troubled," and ends with, "Then remember us."
Ramatoa raised her voice and joined them.  There was no wavering or
shrinking from the fiery ordeal.  When all was ready the martyrs quietly
suffered themselves to be bound to the stakes, and, strange to say, when
the flames roared around them, the song of praise still went on, and the
voices of praise and prayer did not cease until they had culminated in
glad shouts of praise and victory before the throne of God!

We write facts just now, reader, not fiction!  Men talk of the cruelty
of devils!  Assuredly there is not a devil in or out of hell who can
sink to lower depths of cruelty than fallen man will sink to when left
to the unrestrained influence of that hateful thing--_sin_--from which
Jesus Christ came to deliver us, blessed be _His_ name!

It is said that while these four martyrs were being fastened to the
stakes, an immense triple-arched rainbow stretched across the heavens,
one end of which appeared to rest upon them, and that rain fell in
torrents.  This so terrified many of the spectators, that they fled in
consternation from the scene.

But the cup of iniquity was not yet filled up.  While the martyrs were
still in the fire, and praying, "O Lord, receive our spirits, and lay
not this sin to their charge," a shouting yelling band arrived, dragging
after them the corpses of the men and women who had perished at the
Place of Hurling Down.  These were tossed upon the pile to serve as fuel
to the fire.  The poor unrecognisable remains of Mamba were among them;
and thus, even in their death, he and Ramatoa were not divided!

At this time of terrible suffering and trial--as in the previous
persecutions during the reign of this tyrant queen--hundreds of
Christians willingly submitted to the loss of position, wealth, and
liberty for the sake of Jesus, besides those who witnessed a good
confession, and sealed their testimony with their blood.  Thirty-seven
native preachers, with their wives and families, were consigned to a
life of slavery.  More than a hundred men and women were flogged and
sentenced to work in chains during their lives.  Some were heavily
fined, and many among the "great and noble" were stripped of honours and
titles, reduced to the ranks, and forced to labour at the hardest and
most menial occupation.

Among these last was Prince Ramonja, who had been the means of
sheltering, secreting, and saving many Christians.  Fortunately Prince
Rakota retained his influence over his mother, and his power to do
good--a circumstance for which our three adventurers had ultimately
reason to thank God, though, for a considerable time after that, they
remained in prison, in company with their friends Ravonino, Voalavo,
Laihova, and others.

These last were not delivered from their chains, but lived in hourly
expectation of being led out to execution.  After Ra-Ruth's removal,
Laihova was at first overwhelmed with despair, but when a friendly
jailor informed him of her having been spared under the supposition that
she was insane, hope revived a little, though he could not help seeing
that the prospect ahead was still very black.

Another prisoner who was inconsolable was poor Reni-Mamba.  From the
time that she was told of her son's fate she seemed to sink into a state
of quiet imbecility, from which no efforts of her friends could rouse
her.  She did not murmur or complain.  She simply sat silent and callous
to everything around her.  She, Rafaravavy, Sarah, and the other
females, were removed to another prison, and for a long time their male
friends could learn nothing as to their fate.

"It is this prolonged uncertainty that's so hard to bear," remarked
Ravonino to Mark one day, lifting his hands high above his head, and
letting them fall, with the clanking chains, into his lap.

"True, true," replied the youth, shortly--for confinement was beginning
to tell unfavourably on himself.

"Das w'ere it is," remarked Ebony, endeavouring to brighten up a little,
but with only moderate success, "it's sottin still an' doin' nuffin dat
kills.  What you tink, 'Ockins?"

"Ay, ay," assented the seaman; and as for a long time nothing more than
"ay, ay," had been got out of Hockins, Ebony relapsed into silence.

Things had reached this lugubrious pass when an event occurred which
materially affected the condition of the prisoners, and considerably
altered the history of Madagascar.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

THREATENED DEATH AVERTED--BURIED ALIVE--END OF THE TYRANT QUEEN--REVOLT
CRUSHED AND RADAMA THE SECOND CROWNED.

One morning, shortly after sunrise, Mark was awakened by the entrance of
their jailor.  By that time he had grown so accustomed to clanking
chains, shooting bolts, and such-like sounds, that he looked up sleepily
and without much interest, but a thrill or qualm passed through him when
he observed that the jailor was followed by Hater of Lies with his
silver spear.

Still more were he and his awakened comrades horrified when the names of
Ravoninohitriniony and Voalavo were sternly called out.  Both men
promptly stood up.

"At last!" said the former, quietly, and without a trace of excitement.
"Well, I am glad, for it is the Lord's will.  Farewell, my friends," he
added, looking back as he was led away, "we shall all meet again in
great joy--farewell!"

Evidently Voalavo did not take things so quietly.  His lips were firmly
compressed, his face was deeply flushed, and his brows were sternly
contracted, as they led him out.  But for his chains the chief would
certainly have given his jailors some trouble.

The whole thing passed so quickly that it seemed to those left behind
like a dream when they found themselves alone.  Ebony sat down, put his
face on his knees, and fairly burst into tears.

"Oh!  Lord," he sobbed, "send 'em quick for me, an' let's hab it ober!"

It seemed as if the poor fellow's prayer was about to be answered, for
again the door opened, and the Secretary entered.

"Be not afraid," he said, observing their alarm, "I come not to summon
you to death, but to ask you, doctor, to come and see the Queen--she is
ill."

"Oh! massa, pison her!  _Do_, massa!  Nobody would call it murder," said
the negro, with fervent entreaty.

Paying no attention to this advice, Mark followed the Secretary, and the
bolts were again drawn on his friends.

He found Ranavalona suffering severely.  Indeed, for some time previous
to that her health had been failing, and she would gladly have had the
advice of her Court Physician, but seemed to be ashamed to send for him
after the way she had caused him to be treated.  There is this to be
said for her, that she would probably have liberated him long ago, but
for the advice of her minister, Rainiharo, who was jealous of the young
Englishman's growing popularity as well as a hater of his religion.

After prescribing for the Queen and affording her some relief, he gave
orders that she should be kept very quiet; that no noise was to be
permitted in or near the palace.  Then he left her apartments with the
Secretary.

As they traversed one of the corridors, the latter told Mark that the
order had been given for the execution of Ravonino and Voalavo.

"Was that order given by the Queen?" demanded Mark, flushing with
indignation, while a gush of anxiety almost choked him.

"No, it was given by Rainiharo, who takes advantage of his position and
the Queen's illness."

Just then a step was heard at the further end of the passage, and Hater
of Lies advanced towards them with his badge of office, the silver
spear, in his hand.

Like a flash of light an idea entered the young Englishman's head!  He
had no time to think or plan--only to act.  In the same moment, however,
he offered up a silent prayer for help.

As the officer was about to pass, Mark snatched the spear from his hand
and brought the handle of it down on its owner's crown with such
good-will that the Hater of Lies was laid flat upon the floor!

Thunder-struck, the Secretary gazed at his young companion.  "You are
ruined now!" he said.

"True, and _you_ must be ruined along with me!  Here, take the spear and
act the part of the Hater of Lies."

For a moment the Secretary hesitated--then, as if suddenly making up his
mind, he said--

"Come, I am with you heart and soul!"

"Lead to the place of execution--quick," cried Mark.

"We will take the prison in passing," said his companion, grasping the
spear and hastening onward.

The prison was soon reached.  The guards were a little surprised at the
change of the bearer, but no one dared to think of opposing the passage
of the well-known and awful emblem of office!

"Come, Hockins, Ebony, Laihova, follow us," cried Mark, springing in.

He did not wait to explain.  The Secretary, acting his part well,
stalked with grand solemnity down the streets towards the western gate
of the city.  His four friends followed.  Every one made way.  Hockins
and the negro, not knowing what they might be called on to do, took the
first opportunity that presented, each to seize and carry off a
garden-stake, as a substitute for cudgel or quarter-staff.

The guards, as before, let them pass without question.  Once outside the
town they quickened their pace, and finally ran.

"We may be too late!" gasped Mark.

"It may be so--but we have not far to go."  As he spoke they
distinguished sounds as of men engaged in a struggle.  On turning a
point of rock they came in sight of a party of twelve soldiers.  They
were struggling fiercely with one man, whom they tried to bind.  But the
man seemed to possess the power of Samson.

"It's Voalavo," cried Hockins, and rushed to the rescue.

"Das so," cried the negro, following suit with blazing eyes.

Snatching the silver spear from the Secretary, Mark sprang forward like
a wild-cat, and, sweeping it right and left, brought down two of the
men.  His comrades overturned two others whose muskets they seized,
while Voalavo, with the power of a giant, hurled two others from him as
if they had been boys.  He did not stop to speak, but to the surprise of
his rescuers, ran straight into a neighbouring coppice, and disappeared.

For one moment the remaining soldiers lowered their bayonets as if to
charge, but the Secretary, grasping the Hater of Lies, said, in a
commanding tone--

"What means this haste?  Ye shall answer to the Queen for what you have
done!  Go!  Return to your quarters.  You are under arrest.  Carry your
comrades with you!"

Cowed by this speech, for they all knew the Secretary to be a man of
position and power in the palace, the soldiers humbly picked up their
fallen comrades and retired.  The victors immediately ran into the
coppice in search of Voalavo, whom they found on his knees, digging up
the earth with both hands as if for very life!  Just as they came up he
had uncovered the face of Ravonino, who had been buried alive, and was
already as pale as if he were dead.

"Have they killed him?" gasped Laihova, as he dropped on his knees with
the others, and began to dig.

"No--they do not kill when the sentence is to bury alive," said the
Secretary, "but no doubt he is half-suffocated."

The grave was very shallow--not more than a foot deep, and a living man
might without much difficulty have struggled out of it, but the poor man
had been bound to a long pole, which was buried along with him, so that
he could not move.  They soon got him out, and were about to cast him
loose when there arose a cry in the city which quickly increased to a
mighty roar.

"They have found out our trick," said the Secretary.  "Nothing can save
us now but flight.  Come--take him up.  This way!"

In a moment Hockins and Ebony had the ends of the pole on their
shoulders, and bore their still unconscious friend after the Secretary.
The noise and shouting in the town increased, and it soon became evident
that they were pursued, being led, no doubt, by the soldiers who had
been so roughly handled.

"This way," cried their guide, turning sharp into a by-path which led
them into a small garden, "a friend--a Christian--dwells here."

The friend turned out to be an old woman who was rather deaf, but she
heard enough to understand the situation.

"Here!" she said, tottering into a back-yard, in which was a quantity of
straw and rubbish.  "Go down there."

She pointed to a hole.  It was the mouth of a rice-hole.  Down went the
Secretary, without a word, and turned to receive the end of the pole
which Hockins passed carefully in.  The rest followed.  The old woman
put on the cover and threw over it some of the rubbish.

Being pitch dark, the nature of the place could not be distinguished by
the fugitives, but they could hear the shouting of the soldiers who
searched the house for them.  They could also hear the angry queries
that were put to the owner of the place, and they could perceive that
the old woman had miraculously become dumb as well as stone deaf!

Soon the quietness overhead led them to hope that the soldiers had left.
In a short time the cover of the rice-hole was removed, and the old
woman, putting her head down, informed them that all was safe, at least
in the meantime.

They now unfastened Ravonino from the pole, and found, to their great
joy, that he was yet alive, though considerably shaken.  A little
rice-soup, however, and a night's rest, put him all right again.

In that hole, carefully tended by the deaf old woman, these six were
compelled to secrete themselves for a week, during which time the
soldiers were scouring the country in all directions in search of them.
They had to keep so close, and to be so careful, that they did not even
dare to let the old woman go near the neighbours to inquire what was
going on in the town, though naturally they were very anxious on that
point.

At the end of that week, while the fugitives were taking a breath of
fresh air in the yard, they were surprised by hearing the tramp of
approaching soldiers.  To dive into their hiding-place and be covered
over by the old woman was the work of a few seconds.  Anxiously they
listened while the renewed search was going on.  The sounds sometimes
showed that the searchers were retiring from the yard, at other times
drawing near to it.  At last a step was heard on the rubbish heap above
them; then a blow resounded on their covering, as if with the butt-end
of a musket.  This was followed by a shout, a clamour of voices, and a
hasty clearing away of the rubbish.

"All is lost!" exclaimed the Secretary in his native tongue.

"Not while we have arms," growled Voalavo.

"You need not count on me to help you," said Ravonino, quietly, in the
native tongue; "why should we slaughter men uselessly?  If we had a
chance of making a dash I would fight.  But we can get out of this hole
only one by one, and no doubt a hundred men await us!"

"Is we a-goin' to fight, massa?" asked the negro, hopefully.

"Of coorse we are," said Hockins.

"No, my friend, we are not," said the Secretary, "our only hope, now, is
in God."

"It seems to me," rejoined Ravonino, "that God is our only hope at _all_
times--whether in danger or in safety; but He makes it plain just now
that our duty, as well as our wisdom, lies in quiet submission."

Ebony received this remark with a groan, and Hockins with something like
a growl.  Just then the covering of their hiding-place was thrown off,
and several bayonet-points appeared.

"Come out, one at a time, quietly, else we will shoot you where you
stand!" exclaimed a stern voice.

The Secretary translated this.  At the same time Ravonino clambered out
of the rice-hole, and was instantly seized and bound.

"It's all over now--may the Lord have mercy on us!" exclaimed Hockins,
dropping his weapon and following his friend.

Whatever might have been the various feelings of the unfortunate party,
the example thus set was accepted, for each one submitted, and when Mark
looked round on the large band of armed men, by whom they were
surrounded, he perceived the wisdom of Ravonino's advice, and how
hopeless would have been any attempt on the part of himself and his
friends to break through and escape.

Silently, and without a word of explanation, the officer in command led
his captives into the town.  They were too much overwhelmed by their
calamitous circumstances to pay much attention to anything, yet they
could not help observing that greater crowds of people than usual were
hurrying through the streets, and that every one wore, more or less, an
air of excitement.

Our friends had expected to be cast into their old prison, but they were
led straight to the palace, where they were handed over to the officer
on duty.  In spite of the depression of his spirits, the Secretary could
not resist his feelings of curiosity, and asked what all the stir meant,
but he received no answer.

The prisoners were now conducted into a large room, where they found
Prince Rakota standing, surrounded by a crowd of people--male and
female.  Beside the Prince was his cousin, Ramonja.  Ravonino and
Laihova observed--with a gush of feeling which may be understood but not
described--that Rafaravavy and Ra-Ruth were among the ladies.  Poor
Reni-Mamba was also there, her mild face showing unmistakable traces of
the suffering caused by the loss of her only son.

"Welcome, my friends," said Rakota, hastening forward to receive the
prisoners.  "You are now safe and free!"

"Safe? free?" repeated the Secretary, in surprise.

"Yes.  Have they not told you the news?" he asked, while an expression,
as of pain, passed over his face, "my mother--the Queen--is dead!  But
come," he added quickly, as if he wished to avoid the subject, "I wish
to consult with you, for serious dangers threaten us.  Come."

He left the room quickly, followed by the Secretary, while Ravonino and
Laihova were drinking in the news from the respective lips that pleased
them best.  The facts were soon communicated to all the party.

The Queen, they said, who had been declining in health for a
considerable time past, had latterly become much worse.  No doubt her
failure to stamp out Christianity must have aggravated her complaint,
for the effect of her extreme severity was rather to advance than hinder
the good cause.  The persecutions--the banishments--the murders--of
twenty-five years, instead of checking, had spread the Gospel far and
wide over the land, for, as in the first days, `they that were scattered
abroad went everywhere preaching the Word,' and the amazing constancy,
and courage, and tenderness to their enemies, of the noble army of
martyrs, had given a depth and power to the Christian life which might
otherwise have been wanting.

At all events, whatever the cause, Ranavalona the First sank rapidly,
and, on the 15th of August, 1861, after a reign of thirty-three years,
the Tyrant Queen of Madagascar passed away to the tribunal of the King
of Kings.

Her son, Prince Rakota, was her successor; but his succession was not to
be unopposed.  He had a rival claimant to the throne in his own cousin
Rambosalama, an able, wary, and unscrupulous man, who, on perceiving
that the end was approaching, had laid his plans secretly and
extensively for seizing the reins of government.  Prince Rakota,
however, was so much beloved that all his cousin's plans were revealed
to him by his friends, but the disposition of the prince was too humane
to permit of his adopting the usual savage means to foil his foe.

"All has been told to me," he said to the Secretary.  "My cousin has
gained many to his side--especially of those who hate the Christians.
He has even hired men to kill me!  I know it, because one of the
assassins came last night and warned me.  At the same time he confessed
that he had intended to commit the crime."

"But have you not taken steps to thwart your cousin!"

"I have.  For some time past every allowable measure for our protection
has been taken, but the religion of Jesus, as you know, forbids me to
resort to poison, the chain, or the spear.  My reign shall not begin
with bloodshed if I can help it.  You know that my good friend the
Commander-in-Chief of the troops, Rainiharo's son, is on our side.
Finding that my cousin went about armed, he recently issued an order
that no one should be allowed to carry arms in the palace.  As I myself
bowed to this order, and submitted to be searched, of course Rambosalama
had no excuse for refusing.  Then, as a precaution, we have concealed
from all except sure friends the orders which, from day to day, have
regulated the movements of the troops.  I have met daily in council
those on whom I can depend, and our course of action is all arranged.
Only one point remains unsettled, and it is that which I ask you to
undertake--for your will is resolute."

"Whatever my Prince requires of me shall be done--if it be not against
the laws of my God," said the Secretary.

Rakota looked pleased with the reply.  "I want you," he said, "to stand
in the passage here, till Rambosalama appears.  He is sure to pass,
being now in the death-chamber, to which I return speedily.  His
followers will be in force in the palace-yard--I hear the multitudes
assembling even now.  When he passes this way it will be to give the
signal of revolt.  You will stop him.  If he resists, use force--you are
strong!  You understand?"

The Secretary looked intelligent, and bowed as the Prince rose and left
him.  Then he hastily sought for and found his friend Ebony, with whom
he had struck up a sort of happy-go-lucky friendship.

Meanwhile the multitudes, who had heard early in the morning that the
Queen was dying, had crowded every street that led to the palace.  Some
had even pressed into the courts in their anxiety to know the truth.
Laxity seemed to prevail among the guards, for many people who carried
weapons ill-concealed in their lambas, and whose looks as well as
movements were suspicious, were allowed to enter.  These were the
partisans of Rambosalama.  Indeed it is probable that even among the
guards themselves there were adherents of the Pretender.

But the faithful Commander-in-Chief was on the alert, and had laid his
plans.  He stood in the chamber of death where the mourners were
weeping.  He watched with keen eye the movements of Rambosalama, and
when that Prince left the room for the purpose of giving the signal to
his followers, he slipped quietly out and gave his counter-signal, which
was the waving of a scarf from a window.  Instantly a trumpet sounded,
and more than a thousand trusty soldiers who had been in waiting marched
into the palace courts.

Hearing the trumpet, the Pretender hastened along the passage that led
to the court.  At the end of it a door opened, and the Secretary,
stepping out, confronted him.

"Well met, Rambosalama," he said, taking his arm in a friendly but firm
way, "I have somewhat to say to you."

"Not now, not now!" exclaimed the other, hastily.  "I am wanted outside!
Another time--"

"No time like the present," interrupted the Secretary, tightening his
grasp, "come this way."

Rambosalama taking alarm, tried to wrench himself free, but the
Secretary was strong.  At the same moment a powerful black hand grasped
the nape of his neck.

"Come now, sar, you go 'long quiet an' comf'r'able an' nobody hurt you.
Dis way.  Das a sweet little chamber for de naughty boys."

With a force that there was no resisting Ebony pushed the prince into a
small room with a very small window.  The door was shut, the key turned,
and the danger was past!

Immediately afterwards the Commander-in-Chief appeared on the balcony of
the palace, announced the Queen's death to the multitude, and, amid
demonstrations of wildest joy, alike from soldiers and people,
proclaimed Rakota King of Madagascar, under the title of Radama the
Second.

In the afternoon of the same day the King presented himself to the
people, arrayed in royal robes, with a crown on his head, and surrounded
by his chief nobles.

So overjoyed were the people at the blessed change from the tyranny of a
cruel woman to the sway of a gentle prince, that it was some time before
they could be quieted.  When silence was obtained, the King, in a few
and simple words, assured his subjects that his great desire was, and
his aim would be, to devote himself to their welfare, and that of the
country over which he had been called to reign.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

THE LAST.

The vigour with which Prince Rakota put down the attempt at usurpation
was followed by characteristic deeds of leniency and kindness.  Instead
of taking the usual method of savage and semi-civilised rulers to crush
rebellion, he merely banished Rambosalama from the capital, and confined
him in a residence of his own in the country; but no fetters were put on
his limbs, and his wealth was not forfeited, nor was he forbidden to
communicate with his friends.

Moreover, before the sun of that day in 1861 had set, the new King
caused it to be proclaimed far and wide that all his subjects might
depend upon receiving equal protection; that every man was free to
worship God according to the dictates of his own conscience; that the
prison-doors should be thrown open to those who had been condemned for
conscience sake, and their fetters knocked off.  He also sent officers
to announce to those who had been banished to the pestilential districts
that the day of deliverance had come.

To many of these last, of course, the good news came too late for this
life.  Disease, and hard labour and cruel fetters, had done their work;
but the deliverance that came to these was grander and more glorious
than the mere removal of earthly chains and pains.

It was a glad day for Madagascar, and the people of the capital were
wild with joy, for condemned ones who had long been given up as lost,
because enslaved or imprisoned for life, were suddenly restored to
family and friends, while others could entertain the hope that those who
had been long banished would speedily return to them.  Many a house in
the city resounded that day with hymns of praise and thanksgiving that
the tyrant Queen was dead, and that the gentle Prince was crowned.

But the change did not bring equal joy to all.  Some there were whose
smitten hearts could not recover from the crushing blows they had
sustained when the news of loved ones having perished in exile had been
brought to them--though even these felt an impulse of pleasure from
Christian sympathy with the joy of their more fortunate friends.

Among these last was poor Reni-Mamba.  She, being very meek and
submissive, had tried hard to join in the prayer and praise; but her
voice was choked when she attempted to speak, and it quavered sadly when
she tried to sing.

"Oh! if it had only pleased God to spare thee, Mamba--thou crumb of my
life!--my dear, my only son!"  She broke out thus one day when the
sympathetic Ra-Ruth sought to comfort her.  "I was beginning to get over
the loss of his father--it was so many years ago that they took him from
me! and as my boy grew up, the likeness to my Andrianivo was so strong
that I used to try to think it was himself; but--now--both--"

"Are with the Lord, which is far better," said Ra-Ruth, tenderly laying
her hand on Reni's arm.

"You are young to give such comfort," returned Reni, with a sad smile.

"It is not I who give it, but the Lord," returned Ra-Ruth.  "And you
forget, mother, that I am old in experience.  When I stood on the edge
of the Rock of Hurling, that awful day, and saw the dear ones tossed
over one by one, I think that many years passed over my head!"

"True--true," returned the other, "I am a selfish old woman--forgetting
others when I think so much of myself.  Come--let us go to the meeting.
You know that the congregation assembles to-day for the first time after
many, many, years--so many!"

"Yes, mother, I know it.  Indeed I came here partly to ask you to go
with me.  And they say that Totosy, the great preacher, is to speak to
us."

Many others besides these two wended their way to the meeting-house that
day.  Among them was a group in which the reader is perhaps interested.
It consisted of Mark Breezy, John Hockins, Ebony Ginger, Samuel
Ravoninohitriniony, Laihova, and Voalavo.

"Well now, this is the queerest go-to-meetin' that I've had to do with
since I was a babby," remarked Hockins, as he looked from side to side
upon the varied crowd of men and women, black, brown, and yellow, rich
and poor, noble and slave, who were joyfully and noisily thronging to
the house of God!

"Das true,--an' look dar!" said Ebony, pointing to a young woman who was
standing as if thunder-struck before a worn-out, feeble, white-haired
man in tattered garments, with a heavy iron collar on his neck.

Recovering from her surprise, the young woman uttered the word "Father"
with a wild shriek, and rushed into the old man's arms.

"Easy to see that he is a banished one returned unexpectedly," observed
Mark, as the young woman, after the first wild embrace, seized the old
man's arm and hurried him towards the meeting-house, while tears of joy
streamed from her eyes.

And this was not the only case they witnessed, for constantly, during
the days that followed the accession of Radama the Second, exiles were
hastening home,--men and women in rags, worn and wasted with want and
suffering--reappearing in the city to the astonishment and joy of
friends who had supposed them long since dead.  Yes, the long-desired
jubilee had come at last, and not only was there great rejoicing over
those lost and found ones, but also over many who, through the power of
sympathy, were brought at that time to the Saviour and repentance.

Referring to that period, one of those returned exiles writes thus:--

  "On Thursday, 29th August 1861, we that were in concealment appeared.
  Then all the people were astonished when they saw us, that we were
  alive and not yet buried or eaten by the dogs.  And there were a great
  many people desiring to see us, for they considered us as dead, and
  this is what astonished them.  On the 9th of September, those that
  were in fetters came to Antananarivo, but they could not walk on
  account of the weight of the heavy fetters and their weak and feeble
  bodies."

It was a strange gathering, and there were many surprises in the church
that day, and some strange music too, besides that of psalms and hymns
and spiritual songs, for, during the service, several exiles who had
just arrived, hearing what was going on, had hastened to the scene of
reunion without waiting to have their fetters filed off, and entered the
house in clanking chains.

The preacher's duty was one of unusual difficulty, for, besides these
peculiar interruptions and the exclamations of surprised friends, the
sympathy of his own heart nearly choked his utterance more than once.
But Totosy was equal to the occasion.  His heart was on fire, his lips
were eloquent, and the occasion was one of a thousand, never to be
forgotten.  Despite difficulties, he held his audience spell-bound while
he discoursed of the "wonderful words of God" and the shower of blessing
which had begun to fall.

Suddenly, during a momentary pause in the discourse, the clanking of a
very heavy chain was heard, and a man was seen to make his way through
the crowd.  Like Saul, head and shoulders above his fellows, gaunt,
worn, and ragged, he had been standing near the door, not listening,
apparently, to the preacher, but intent on scanning the faces of the
congregation.  Discovering at length what he looked for, he forced his
way to the side of Reni-mamba, sank at her feet, and with a profound
sigh--almost a groan--laid his head upon her lap!

Mamba, grown to a giant, seemed to have come back to her.  But it was
not her son.  It was Andrianivo, her long-lost husband!  For one moment
poor Reni seemed terrified and bewildered, then she suddenly grasped the
man's prematurely grey head in both hands and covered the face with
passionate kisses, uttering every now and then a shriek by way of
relieving her feelings.

Great though the preacher's power was in overcoming the difficulties of
his position, Reni-Mamba's meek spirit, when thus roused, was too much
for him.  He was obliged to stop.  At the same moment the gaunt giant
arose, gathered up Reni in his great arms as if she had been a mere
baby, and, without a word, stalked out of the meeting to the music of
his clanking chains.  A Malagasy cheer burst from the sympathetic
people.

"Praise the Lord!  Let us sing!" shouted the wise Totosy, and in a few
seconds the congregation was letting off its surplus steam in tremendous
and jubilant song, to the ineffable joy of Ebony, who must have burst
out in some other way had not this safety-valve been provided.

But there were more surprises in store for that singular meeting.  After
the sermon the preacher announced that two marriages were about to be
solemnised by him in the simplest manner possible.  "My friends," he
said, "one of the bridegrooms is only half a Malagasy, the other half of
him is English.  He objects to ceremony, and his friend, the other man
to be married, objects to everything that _he_ objects to, and agrees to
everything that _he_ agrees to, which is a very satisfactory state of
mind in a friend; so they are to be married together."

Immediately after this speech Ravonino led forward Rafaravavy, and
Laihova advanced with Ra-Ruth, and these two couples were then and there
united in matrimony.  Radama the Second, and Prince Ramonja, who had
been recalled and reinstated with the Secretary, and Soa, and other
courtiers, graced the wedding with their presence.

From this time, Radama the Second--or Rakota, as we still prefer to call
him--began systematically to undo the mischief which his wicked mother
had done.  He began to build a college; he re-opened the schools
throughout the country which had been closed in the previous reign, and
acted on principles of civil and religions liberty and universal free
trade, while the London Missionary Society--which had sent out the first
Protestant Missionaries in 1818-20--were invited to resume their
beneficent labours in the island--an invitation which, of course, they
gladly accepted, and at once despatched the veteran Mr Ellis, and other
missionaries, to the re-opened field.  _See Note 1_.

But all this, and much more historical matter of great interest, we must
leave untouched, in order that we may wind up the record of our heroes'
fortunes, or misfortunes; as the reader pleases to consider them.

The events which we have described occurred in such rapid succession
that our trio--Mark, Hockins, and Ebony--had scarce found breathing-time
to consider what they should do, now that they were free to do as they
pleased.

"Go home, ob course," said Ebony, when the question was mooted.  "Ain't
my black darlin' awaitin' ob me dar?"

"I incline to the same course," said Mark, "for my--well, I won't say
who, is awaiting me there also."

"Unless she's falled in lub wid some one else, tinkin' you was dead,
massa, you know," suggested Ebony.

"Ditto, says I," answered Hockins, when appealed to, "for, to the best
o' my belief, my old ooman is awaitin' for me, too, over there--he
pointed to England with the stem of his pipe--to say nothin' o' three
thumpin' boys an' a gal--also an old gran'-mother an' a maiden aunt,
etceterer--all awaitin' with great patience, I have no manner o' doubt."

"But how's we to git dar?  Das de question; as Hamblit said to his
moder's ghost."

The question was answered sooner than they expected, for while they were
yet speaking, a summons came from the King commanding the immediate
attendance of the Court Physician.  The object was to offer Mark his
appointment permanently, but Mark respectfully, yet firmly, declined the
honour.

"I feared that," said the King, "for I doubt not that you has friends in
your native home which draws you.  Well, you wishes to go.  I say, `Go
with my good-will.'  There is Breetish ship loading at Tamatave now.  If
you and you's friends mus' go, there be your chance, and I will send you
to Tamatave in palanquins.  We all very sorry you go, for you was useful
to us, and you was be kind--to my mother!"

Of course Mark gladly availed himself of the opportunity, thankfully
accepted the king's offer, and went off to inform his comrades and make
preparation.

It was a sad occasion when they met in the house of their old guide
Ravonino, to spend the last evening with him and Rafaravavy, and
Laihova, and Ra-Ruth, Reni-Mamba and her husband, Voalavo, Soa, Totosy,
the Secretary, and other friends, but it was also a time of pleasant
communing about days that seemed so long past, although so recent.  They
also communed of days to come, and especially of that great day of
reunion in the Better Land.  And intensely earnest was the final prayer
of the native pastor Totosy, as he commended his friends to the loving
care of God.

Next day they set sail for the seaport town of Tamatave.

And here we might appropriately terminate our narrative, for the bright
days that had begun to dawn on Madagascar have never since been darkened
by persecution--though they have not been altogether cloudless or free
from the curse of war; for, with its enormous capacities and important
position, the island has long been a morsel, coveted by some of what men
style the "Great Powers."

But we may not close our tale without at least touching on one dark
spot, the contemplation of which cannot fail to grieve the heart of
every sincere Christian.  Rakota, the gentle, humane, courageous Prince,
who had always favoured, and suffered hardship for, the cause of Christ,
who had shielded and saved many of the Christians at the risk of his own
life, and seemed to be--indeed was--a very pillar in the infant church,
Rakota fell into gross sin and ultimately perished by the assassin's
hand.

We have no right to judge him.  Only this we know, that "the blood of
Jesus Christ cleanseth from _all_ sin;" and if his life and death throw
light upon any passage of Scripture, they seem to bring out in strong
relief the words, "Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he
fall."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a bright breezy morning when our three heroes stood on the deck
of a homeward-bound vessel and gazed wistfully over the taffrail at the
fast-receding shore.  When the island sank like a little cloud into the
horizon and disappeared, Mark and Ebony turned their eager eyes in the
direction of old England, as if they half expected that celebrated isle
of the west to appear!  Possibly the one was thinking of a fair one with
golden hair and blue eyes and a rosebud mouth.  It is not improbable
that the other was engaged in mental contemplation of a dark one with "a
flat nose, and a coal-scuttle mout', an' such eyes!"  As for Hockins, he
stood with his sea-legs wide apart, his hands in his breeches pockets,
and his eyes frowning severely at the deck.  Evidently his thoughts,
whether of past, present, or future, were too deep for utterance, for,
like his comrades, he maintained unbroken silence.

Leaving them thus in pensive meditation, we regretfully bid them--and
our readers--farewell!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1.  Those who wish for fuller information will find it in such
works as _Madagascar and its People_, by James Sibree, Junior;
_Madagascar, its Missions and its Martyrs; The History of Madagascar_,
etcetera, by Reverend William Ellis; _Madagascar of To-day_, (a
threepenny volume), by G.A. Shaw, FZS, etcetera.

THE END.





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