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 forme?” 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 inmateria 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 Ròfia. 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 toanything,” 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 willsurelydo 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 beenverykind 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 Kabàry, 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.
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 forme?” 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 inmateria 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 Ròfia. 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 toanything,” 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 willsurelydo 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 beenverykind 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 Kabàry, 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 Kabàry 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 Imàhamàsina.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 Impóin, Imérina, and Radama, except to me? If any, then, would change the customs of our ancestors, I abhor that, saith Rabòdon-Andrian-Impóin-Imérina.”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 Ranavàlo-manjàka, 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 Ranavàlo-manjàka.“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 Ranavàlo-manjàka.”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—forme,” 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 débris 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.
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 Imàhamàsina.
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 Impóin, Imérina, and Radama, except to me? If any, then, would change the customs of our ancestors, I abhor that, saith Rabòdon-Andrian-Impóin-Imérina.”
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 Ranavàlo-manjàka, 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 Ranavàlo-manjàka.
“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 Ranavàlo-manjàka.”
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—forme,” 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 débris 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 wouldrathernot! 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!verywicked! I have denied Thee, dear Lord, by mylooks, though not with my lips! Forgive me, O God!” Then, turning quickly to the officers of justice, “Here—put on the chains again. Iama praying man! I love the Lord Jesus. He will saveyouas 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 callthe slackof 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 yousomehow! 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 meannearthe city lately?” asked Mark, anxiously.“Notinthe 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.
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 wouldrathernot! 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!verywicked! I have denied Thee, dear Lord, by mylooks, though not with my lips! Forgive me, O God!” Then, turning quickly to the officers of justice, “Here—put on the chains again. Iama praying man! I love the Lord Jesus. He will saveyouas 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 callthe slackof 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 yousomehow! 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 meannearthe city lately?” asked Mark, anxiously.
“Notinthe 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, andwouldsing 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 servetwomasters?”“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 saidenoughto 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 widyou?”“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, Iamthankful,” exclaimed Mark, beginning to pick up the débris 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 littlecontretempsto 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 obdat?”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!
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, andwouldsing 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 servetwomasters?”
“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 saidenoughto 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 widyou?”
“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, Iamthankful,” exclaimed Mark, beginning to pick up the débris 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 littlecontretempsto 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 obdat?”
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!