Chapter Ten.

Chapter Ten.Tells of a Grand Hunt and Other Things.While the party of hunters awaited the approach of night, (for the wild cattle feed chiefly at night), they kept as quiet as possible. The scouts had brought news that a large herd was feeding on a part of the plain which was not far distant, although concealed from view by the formation of the land.Still thinking of the recent conversation which he had had with the guide, Mark Breezy retired a little from the rest of the party and flung himself on the ground under a tree to rest and meditate.He was not left long, however, in solitude, for Hockins and Ebony soon discovered his retreat. Each of these worthies was armed with a spear.“Hallo, Doctor,” exclaimed the former, as he came up, “are you not supplied with a weapon?”“Yes, I am,” replied Mark, pointing to a native spear which lay at his side, “but I think I won’t use it.”“Why not, massa?” asked Ebony.“Because I don’t yet know how to go about this style of hunting, and if I were to attempt anything I might spoil the sport. I intend merely to look on.”“Right you are, sir,” remarked the sailor. “P’r’aps it’ll be as well for all of us to keep in the background.”“Pooh!” ejaculated Ebony, turning up his nose—a needless action, as it was well-turned up already—“pooh! I not keep in de background! You’re all wrong. W’en you knows nuffin, jest you wait till you knows suffin’—ebber so little—an’ den go at ’im.”“That’s just what I said I should do, Ebony. I will merely look on at first.”“But how long does you prepose to look on, massa? Ain’t five or six minits enuff? Dis is what I’s a-gwine to do. I’ll foller close on de chief—what you call ’im?—Vollyvo—an’ w’en I sees him stick one hox, das nuff for me. I den go at ’im on my own hook, an’ stick away right an’ left!”“I’ll give you a wide berth, then, for it’s as like as not that you’ll stick some o’ the hunters in the dark,” said Hockins, rising, for just then there was a stir in the camp as if preparation was being made to go out.A few minutes later and Laihova came to them with the news that he had heard the chief say they were getting ready, as it was necessary to make a long round through the woods to get well to leeward of the cattle.This process of getting ready consisted in every man stripping and washing himself all over in order to get rid of the smell of the smoke of their huts. Even the guests were obliged to conform to the custom. Then they set off in profound silence, every man being armed with a couple of spears, excepting the guests, who were allowed only one spear each, it being feared that if they carried two they might chance to rattle them together and thus alarm the game, for the kind of cattle they were about to attack are exceedingly active and suspicious—always on the alert, continually snuffing and snorting at the bare idea, as it were, of an approaching enemy. Unlike the tame cattle of the island, these animals have no hump, but strongly resemble the ordinary cattle of England, save that their horns are shorter and their bellowings deeper. They are, however, very savage, and when wounded or annoyed are apt to attack their enemies with terrible ferocity.To Mark Breezy and his companions the expedition proved to be full of excitement, for, apart from the novelty of the situation and uncertainty as to what lay before them or was expected of them, the extreme darkness of the night, and the quick silent stealthy motion of the almost invisible hunters, filled their minds with—if we may say so—awfully pleasurable anticipations!The whole band followed their chief in single file, and as he was intimately familiar with the topography of the region, the only anxiety of each man was to tread carefully in his footsteps.As for Ebony, his whole soul and spirit were in the enterprise, as well as his black body, and the varying expression of his mobile features would have charmed the heart of a physiognomist, had such a man been there with light enough to enable him to see. As there was no physiognomist, and no light, the reader must fall back on imagination.Intent on carrying out his pre-arranged plans, our negro walked close behind the chief—so close indeed, that he inadvertently brought his spear down rather heavily on the left shoulder of that fiery person, for which he received a buffet on the ear, and an order to keep further back. In other circumstances the plucky spirit of Ebony would have been roused to indignation—perhaps to retaliation; but a sense of justice was strong in that negro’s breast. Overwhelmed with shame at his clumsiness, and eager to rectify the error—yet not daring to speak, for silence had been strictly enjoined—he raised the spear over his shoulder and turned the point backwards, thereby bringing it down on the head of the man in the rear.Doubly shocked at this, he raised his weapon to the perpendicular, and knocked some tropical bird violently off the lower branches of a tree. It fluttered screeching to the ground, and bounced angrily into the bushes.The whole band of hunters came to a sudden and breathless halt, but no word was uttered. In a few moments the chief resumed his silent march, and the ghostly column moved on—Ebony, greatly subdued but by no means crushed, keeping his weapon at such a slope as would prevent its doing damage to birds above or men below.Thus they proceeded for nearly an hour, at the end of which time they could hear the wild cattle roaring and bellowing not far-off.When the hunters had got completely to leeward, and were beginning to draw quite near to the feeding-ground, they advanced with increased caution, and some of the men began to pull the tops of the grass with their hands, as they went, in order to mimic as nearly as possible the noise made by an ox grazing.The instant this sound reached the ears of the cattle they became absolutely silent, neither bellowing nor feeding! It was evident that they were listening with the utmost attention. Understanding this, the hunters stood quite still, without a whisper, but a few of those who were adepts at the art continued their imitation of cropping the grass. After listening for a time the animals appeared to arrive at the conclusion that it was a false alarm, for they re-commenced feeding, and the hunters continued their stealthy approach.Soon they came to the thinly scattered shrubbery which marked the termination of the woods and the beginning of the plain. And now, profoundly dark though the night was, they could faintly perceive the forms of their game looming black against the dark sky beyond—themselves being quite invisible, however, owing to their background of forest.Nearer and nearer the men moved, still cropping the grass as they advanced, until they fairly got up to the herd, and were less liable to disturb them, for, being almost invisible, they were, no doubt, mistaken for members of the family!As the hunters now scattered, Ebony had some difficulty in keeping close enough to the chief to observe his movements. Voalavo himself was too intent upon his work to think of anything else, or to care who was near him.Gradually he approached close enough to an animal to thrust his spear deep into its side. It sprang from the ground and made a noise as if hurt by the horn of a comrade, but this is so common an event that the rest of the cattle were in no way disturbed by it.The chief saw by the staggering of the animal that it was mortally wounded, and that there was no need to follow it up, as it could be easily tracked and found in daylight. He therefore turned to attack another animal that was close at hand.“Now den,” said Ebony to himself mentally, “your time’s come. Go at ’im!”Lowering his weapon to the charge, he glanced round and observed the indistinct form of an animal on his right. It was apparently a little one.“Weal is as good as beef,” thought Ebony, as he made a silent but furious rush, scarcely able to restrain a shout of anticipated victory.The spear-point missed the animal, just grazing its back, and went deep into the ground, while the negro plunged with crushing violence on the back of John Hockins, who had been trying to approach his gameà laRed Indian!To say that poor Ebony was filled with horror, as well as shame and self-abhorrence, is but a feeble statement.“Don’t speak, you black monster!” whispered the seaman in his ear, as he seized him by the throat.The rush of apology which had sprung from Ebony’s heart was checked abruptly at the lips.Hockins released him, picked up his spear, and resumed his creeping way. By this time several of the hunters had dealt silent death around them, but still the herd failed to take alarm!Being left alone Ebony’s courage returned, and with it his enthusiasm.“Come,” he muttered, mentally, as he drew the spear from the ground, “’Ockins not killed yet. Das one good job. No use to cry for not’ing. You try again, Ginjah. Better luck nixt time.”Greatly encouraged by these thoughts he advanced on tip-toe—spear at the charge—eyes glancing sharply all round. Suddenly a tall form seemed to rise up right in front of him. The negro’s heart leaped violently. He was on the point of charging when a doubt assailed him. The creature before him, though scarce distinguishable from the surrounding gloom, was not long-bodied like an ox. He could perceive that clearly. It was tall like a man—very tall. Perhaps it was Mark Breezy? The recent mistake made him think anything possible!“Is dat you, massa?” he whispered, in anxious alarm.A furious bellow was the reply, followed by a still more furious charge. Ebony had forgotten that an ox “end on” and head up is tall and not long!Happily, in stepping back he tripped, and the animal went right over him. But the alarm had been given, and a sudden thundering of feet told that the entire herd had taken to flight, while the shouting and cries of the hunters, added to the confused roaring, showed that there was now no need for concealment.When the muster-roll was called it was found that nobody was missing or hurt, though several had to tell of narrow escapes, especially John Hockins, whose account of Ebony’s exploit formed, at the feast that followed, subject of interesting converse and much comment during the brief intervals of relaxation between beef-steaks and marrow-bones.Daylight revealed the fact that somewhere between thirty and forty animals had been killed outright, besides a dozen or so which, having been fatally wounded, were afterwards followed up and some of them secured.But daylight also brought a large party of men from a distant village with a pressing invitation to Voalavo and his men to pay them a visit, and a possibly disinterested offer to assist him in the consumption of the cattle which he had slain; for it chanced that several young men of this village were encamped in the woods that night near the spot where the hunters attacked the cattle. Knowing full well what was being done, these youths hurried home to tell what was going on. The head-man of the village was on good terms with Voalavo at the time, besides being a distant relative. Hence the message and the invitation.As our happy-go-lucky chief was out in what may be termed a larky state of mind, and had nothing particular to do, he accepted the invitation. The meat was slung to bamboo poles, hoisted on the shoulders of his men, and away they went over the plains to pay this visit. Happily the village lay on the way to the capital, so that the guide and his party could still accompany them without losing ground.The plain over which they passed was a very wide one, seeming to extend to the very base of the distant mountains of the interior, but our travellers were mistaken in their ideas about it. The plain was itself part of the mountain region into which they had already advanced, but by so gradual an ascent that they had scarcely perceived the rise in the land—a deception which was increased somewhat by the frequent descents they had to make when passing over ridges.On the way Hockins pushed up alongside of Ravonino, who was walking beside Mark.“Ravvy,” said the seaman, (for to this had he at last curtailed the guide’s name), “where do these fellows fall in wi’ the iron to make their spearheads and other things?”“In the earth,” answered the guide.“What! D’ee mean to say that you manufacture your own iron in them parts?”“Of course we do. Think you that no people can work in iron except the British? We have plenty iron ore of good quality in the island. One of our mountains is so full of ore that we call it the iron mountain. It is named in our language the mountain of Ambohimiangavo.”“An’ how d’ee work the ore o’ this Am-Ambo-bo-bominable-avo mountain?” asked the sailor.“We smelt it, of course. We break the lumps of ore into smallish bits and spread them on charcoal, layer and layer about, in a hollow in the ground. This is covered over with a top-dressing of stone and clay. Then we set it on fire and keep the blast going with wooden bellows, till the metal is melted and runs in a mass to the bottom of the hole. This we break into smaller pieces, purify them with more fire, and run them into bars convenient for use. Our bellows,” continued the guide, “are not like yours, with two boards and leather between. The rats would soon make short work with these. They are two cylinders formed from the trunk of a tree, with a piston in each, packed with coarse cloth, and having valves. An old musket-barrel carries the air to the furnace, and, by pumping them time about, the blow is kept going continuously.”“Why, how doyoucome to know so much about valves, pistons, cylinders, and such like?” asked Mark.“You forget that my father was an Englishman,” returned the guide, “and, besides being a trader, was a sort of Jack-of-all-trades. He taught me many things about which the kinsfolk of my mother know very little. You must not suppose that because some of us are only half-civilised we can do nothing neatly or well. Many of our men are skilful workers in metal, and we owe much of our power in that way to English missionaries, who brought Christian mechanics to the capital. There is hardly anything in the shape of wrought iron-work that we cannot execute if we have a model or pattern. We can work also in copper and brass. But it is not only in metals that we can work fairly well—indeedverywell, if we are to take the word of some of your own countrymen who have seen and judged our work—we are also pretty good at pottery and cabinet-making. As you have seen, we can weave good cloth of cotton and silk, and some of our ingenious men have even tried their hands at clock-making and musical instruments.”“From what you say, Madagascar will soon become a great country, I should think,” said Mark, somewhat amused as well as interested by the evident enthusiasm of the guide.Ravonino shook his head. “My country might become great,” he returned, “but there are some things much against her. The system of forced service to the government instead of taxes is one. This tends to repress ingenuity, for the cleverer and more ingenious a man is the more will be demanded of him, both by the government and his own feudal superior. Then the love of strong drink is too common among us; and last, as well as most serious, great multitudes of our people have no regard at all for their Maker.”“Why, Ravonino,” said Mark, with something of a smile, “from the way you speak of ‘our’ people and ‘my’ country, I fear you think more of your Malagasy than your English extraction.”For a few moments the guide was silent. At length he said, slowly, “England has indeed done us a service that we can never repay. She has sent us the blessed Gospel of Jesus Christ. She is also the land of my father, and I reverence my father. He was very kind and good to me. But this is the land of mymother! I am a man of Madagascar.”It was evident from the expressive features of Ebony, who had joined them, that he heartily approved of this maternal preference, but the gravity of the guide’s countenance, no less than his pathetic tones, prevented his giving the usual candid vent to his ever-ready opinion.Towards the afternoon the party arrived at the native village, where grand preparations for festivities had been made. It was evident also that some parts of the festive libations had been taken in advance, for the head-man had reached the solemnised point of intoxication, and some of his young men the owlish condition.In some parts of this island of Madagascar, as in other parts of the world, the people reduced themselves to great poverty through strong drink. Though they had abundance of rice, and much beef, which latter was salted for exportation, they sold so much of their food for arrack—imported by traders from Mauritius and Bourbon—that little was left for the bare maintenance of life, and they, with their families, were often compelled to subsist on roots. They did not understand “moderate drinking”! Intoxication was the rule until the arrack was done. The wise King Radama the First attempted to check the consumption of ardent spirits by imposing a heavy duty on them, but his efforts were only partially successful.The tribe to which our travellers were at this time introduced had just succeeded in obtaining a quantity of the coarse and fiery spirits of the traders. Their native visitors being quite ready to assist in the consumption thereof, there was every prospect of a disgusting exhibition of savagery that night.“Don’t you think we might escape this feast?” said Mark to the guide, after the ceremony of introduction was over, “by urging the importance of our business at Antananarivo?”“Not easily. Voalavo is one of those determined and hearty men who insist on all their friends enjoying themselves as they themselves do. To-morrow we may persuade him to let us go. Besides, I do not object to stay, for I intend to preach them a sermon on ungodliness and intemperance in the middle of the feast.”Mark could scarcely forbear smiling at what he deemed the originality of the guide’s intention, as well as the quiet decision with which he stated it.“Don’t you think,” he said, “that this way of bearding the lion in his den may rouse the people to anger?”“I know not—I think not; but it is my business to be instant in season and out of season,” replied Ravonino, simply.Mark said no more. He felt that he had to do with a Christian of a somewhat peculiar type, and thereafter he looked forward with not a little curiosity and some anxiety to the promised sermon. He was doomed, like the reader, to disappointment in this matter, for that night had not yet run into morning when an event occurred which modified and hastened the proceedings of himself and his friends considerably.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not, massa?” asked Ebony.

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

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

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

“That’s just what I said I should do, Ebony. I will merely look on at first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now den,” said Ebony to himself mentally, “your time’s come. Go at ’im!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In the earth,” answered the guide.

“What! D’ee mean to say that you manufacture your own iron in them parts?”

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

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

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

“Why, how doyoucome to know so much about valves, pistons, cylinders, and such like?” asked Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Eleven.An Uninvited Guest appears with News that demands Instant Action.The villagers and their guests were still in the midst of the feast, and the arrack had not yet begun to stimulate their imaginations, so that the deeds of their ancestors—which formed the chief subject of conversation—were still being recounted with some regard to modesty and truth, when Voalavo said to the assemblage, with a beaming countenance, that he had a treat in store for them.“You are all fond of music,” he said. “Who does not know that the Malagasy are good singers? The songs you have already sung have delighted my ears, and the clapping of your hands has been in the best of time; but you shall soon have music such as the idols would enjoy, I have no doubt, when in a merry mood.”The chief uttered the last sentence with an air of good-natured contempt, for he was what we may style an unbeliever in all gods—not an uncommon state of mind in men of superior intelligence when they think seriously of the debasing absurdities of idolatry.“Now, my friend,” he said, turning to John Hockins, with an air and tone of command, “let them hear the little pipe on which you—you—tootle-ootle.”Hockins had much ado to keep his gravity as he drew out the flageolet, and every eye was instantly fixed on him in glaring expectancy.It need hardly be said that the effect of the sweet instrument was very powerful, and it is probable that the party of admirers might have taxed the seaman’s powers of performance to the uttermost, if they had not been suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a tall wild-looking man, who was evidently in a state of tremendous excitement.He wore the usual cloth round the loins, and thelamba, which was thrown like a Scottish chieftain’s plaid over his left shoulder—but these garments bore evidence of rough usage and hard travel. The man was not a stranger, for, as he suddenly stood panting vehemently in the midst of the party, with his long arms outstretched, Voalavo addressed him in tones of surprise.“Razafil!” he exclaimed. “Glad are we to see the Bard of Imarina. Your coming is well-timed. We are feasting, and singing, and story-telling. Words from the poet will be welcome.”Notwithstanding the friendly reception thus accorded to the Bard of Imarina, it was evident that the words were thrown away upon him, for he continued for some time to glare and pant while perspiration rolled down his face, and it became clear to every one that something was wrong with him. At last he spoke in a kind of low singing tone which harmonised with his appearance—“Vain man! Observ’st thou not the dead?The morning warmth from them has fled,Their mid-day joy and toil are o’er,Though near, they meet fond friends no more.”He paused and looked wildly yet tremblingly round, as if in search of some one, but took no notice of his friends, many of whom were present at the gathering. Then he continued in the same strain—“A gate of entrance to the tomb we see,But a departure thence there ne’er shall be.The living waves his signal high,But where’s the loved one’s fond reply?Ah! where are those thus doomed to die?“Vain man! observ’st thou not the dead?No more their homeward path they tread.The freeman lost may ransom’d be,By silver’s magic power set free;But, once the deadly hand has laid them low,No voice can move them, for they cease to know.Regardless of our love they lie;Unknown the friends that o’er them sigh;Oh! where are those thus doom’d to die?”Again the poor man paused, and gasped as if some terrible agony were rending his bosom, yet no tear moistened his eyes, from which there seemed to gleam the wild light of insanity. His appearance and words had sunk like a pall upon the festive party, but no one spoke or moved. It was as if they were spell-bound. Once more the poet spoke, and this time in tones of deepest pathos—“Vain man! why groan ye for the dead?To be with Jesus they have fled,With shattered limbs—’mid scorching flame,They sang the praises of His name;Now, joy unspeakable, they tread the shoreWhence ransom’d sinners shall depart no more.But ah! while mangled corpses lie,Our trembling, riven heartswillcry—‘Why, why were those thus doom’d to die?’”The man ceased; his arms fell listlessly by his side, and his chin sank on his breast.“I fear much,” whispered Ravonino to Mark, “that I understand but too well what he means.”Without waiting for a reply the guide rose. Going up to Razafil he laid his hand gently on his arm, and said—“My brother!”The bard looked at him earnestly for a few seconds, then, grasped him by the wrist as with a grip of iron.“Ravoninohitriniony,” he said, fiercely, “my little one is dead! She is gone! They took her—a mere child—they tortured her, but she would not yield. Hear what I say. You knew her well—the soft one; the tender one, who was always so pliable, so unselfish, so easily led,—shewould notyield! They led her to the place of execution; they tied her to a stake and kindled the fire about her beautiful limbs,—my little child, Raniva! I saw the skin upon her flesh blacken and crack and blaze. But she sang! sang loud and clear! I would have rushed into the fire to her but they held me back—four strong men held me! When she was consumed they led me away to the torture—but I burst from them—escaped—I know not how—I care not! for my little one is lost!—lost!—”“Nay, Razafil—not lost!” said Ravonino, in a quiet but firm tone, for he saw the gleam increasing in the poor father’s eyes. “Did you not say just now that she is singing with joy unspeakable the praises of His name?”The words were fitly spoken. The father’s agonised soul was quieted, but as quietness partly returned to him, a new expression appeared on his countenance.“Listen,” he said, still holding the guide’s wrist in his powerful grasp. “I go to my poor wife. She is safe in the cave with Réni-Mamba—”“Not in the cave you think of,” interrupted the guide, explaining the change of abode which had been recently made by the Christian fugitives.“No matter,” returned the bard, “I know all the caves, and can find the one she has gone to. But now I must warn you—warn all of you who are Christians,” he added, with emphasis, looking round upon the natives, “if there be any such among you—that Queen Ranavalona has got one of her bad fits again. She has ordered that no one is to sing or pray to Jesus, or to read the Word of God, on pain of imprisonment, death, or being sold into slavery. Many have been sold already, and some have died. Things would have been even worse, for the English missionary has left Antananarivo, but Prince Rakota remains our friend. Still, he cannot save every one. He could not save my Raniva! Now,” he added, turning to the guide abruptly, as if anxious to keep his mind from dwelling on his terrible bereavement, “you must go to Antananarivo with all haste if you would save Rafaravavy, for she is in great danger.”The bard had touched a cord in Ravonino’s breast which vibrated sensitively.“She has not confessed? She is not in prison?” he asked, quickly, with emotion which was too powerful to be entirely suppressed.“As to confessing,” returned Razafil, “there is no need for her to do that, for it is well-known that she is a Christian; but the queen is fond of her and wishes to spare her. Nevertheless, she is so exceeding mad against us just now, that there is no saying when her forbearance may come to an end. If you would save Rafaravavy, you must get her out of the palace without delay.”The guide did not reply for a few seconds. It was evident, from the knitted brows and the pallor of his countenance, that he was endeavouring to make up his mind to some course of action. Suddenly the frown passed from his brow, his countenance became perfectly calm, and his eyes closed.“He is speaking with God,” whispered Laihova to one who sat near him.Laihova may have been right. If so, the prayer was a very brief one, for the guide turned almost immediately to Voalavo and explained that in the circumstances it was absolutely necessary for him and his comrades to depart at once for the capital.The chief, being a sympathetic as well as a hilarious soul, made no objection, but rather urged him to make haste.Ravonino then turned to his white companions, who could, of course, only guess at the meaning of all that had been said, and explained to them the whole matter. They rose at once, and, having no preparations to make, professed to be ready to start there and then.Now, while they were yet speaking, the festive party received another surprise, or alarm, which was even more exciting than the previous one.A young man suddenly burst into the village with the announcement that a body of the Queen’s soldiers were close at hand. They had been sent off in pursuit of Razafil, with directions to scour the country, and bring in as many Christian fugitives as possible, and he—the young man—being a fast runner, had been sent in advance by some friends of the bard to warn him of his danger.“I would not try to avoid them if I stood alone,” said Razafil, softly. “ShouldIshrink from dying for Jesus, after seeing my Raniva go to Him in a chariot of fire? But I stand not alone. My wife claims my support, and my little boy.”While he was speaking, it was seen that a few of the hunters, as well as one or two inhabitants of the village, rose quietly and left the place. These were either professing or suspected Christians, who were anxious to make their escape from the danger that threatened.After bidding Voalavo farewell, the guide and his friends left the village and struck into the woods. They were accompanied by the bard a short distance, until a point was reached where their routes diverged, and here, after a few words of brotherly sympathy and counsel from Ravonino, the bereaved man went on his solitary way, and the others directed their course towards the capital.“Poor man,” said Ebony, who looked over his shoulder with profound sorrow in his earnest eyes as long as the tall figure of the bard was in sight, “I’s most awrful sorry for ’im. Why don’t dey hang Randalvalona, or shot ’er?”“History teaches that it’s not always so easy as one might think to get rid of objectionable queens in that way,” said Mark.“Hm! I’d teach history suffin diff’rent if I had my way,” returned the negro.“But surely the great men around her might have some sort o’ power to clap a stopper on ’er?” said Hockins.“They have some power, but not much,” returned the guide, “for Ranavalona is a passionate, self-willed, cruel woman; and when such a woman happens to be a despotic queen, nothing short of a revolution, or her death, can save the country. She usurped the throne in 1829, we have now reached 1857, so she has been reigning more than twenty-seven years, and a bitter reign it has been. There have been many persecutions of the Christians since it began. Hundreds have been slain; thousands have been sold into slavery; many more have been banished to pestilential districts, where disease has laid them low. God grant that this mad fit may not be the forerunner of another burst of cruelty.”“But do you really think,” said Mark, “that Rafaravavy is in great danger? Did not the bard say that she is a favourite with the queen?”“That is some security, but not much, for Ranavalona is changeable as well as cruel. But my dear one is in the hands of God. No harm can come to her unless He permits. Nevertheless, our God works not by miracles but by means, therefore it is my business, having the opportunity given me, to hasten to her rescue.”“And it is mine to help you,” said Mark, an impulse of youthful enthusiasm and sympathy swelling his heart as his mind suddenly reverted to the morning when he left England, and said his last good-bye to the fair one with the golden hair and the rosebud mouth and “such lovely blue eyes!”“But how,” he continued, “shall we best aid you in this matter?”“That question I cannot answer immediately. When we draw near to the capital and hear what is going on I shall be able to form a plan. What we have to do just now is to travel fast. You are strong stout men, all of you. Do you think you can walk fast and far with little rest or sleep, and without breaking down?”“I think so,” answered Mark, modestly.“I’s cock-sure ob it,” said Ebony, “if we’s allowed lots o’ grub.”“I’m not quite so sure,” said Hockins; “you must remember I’ve only got sea-legs on—but I’ll try.”And he did try, and so did the others; with such success, too, that before the sun set that evening they had penetrated into the very heart of the mountain range which runs through the centre of the island.There had not been much conversation on the way, for hill-climbing all day at top-speed is not compatible with small talk. Besides, the obvious anxiety of Ravonino rendered his companions less inclined than usual to engage in desultory remarks. Nevertheless there were occasions—during momentary halts to recover breath, or when clear bubbling springs tempted them to drink—when the prolonged silence was broken.“Putty stiff work dis hill-climbin’, massa,” said Ebony, during one of these brief halts, as he wiped the perspiration from his sable brow with the back of his hand. “Lucky I’s used to it.”“Used to it?” repeated Mark.“Yes. Di’n’t I tell you I was born an’ raised among de Andes in Sout’ Ameriky?”“To be sure, I forgot that, but there must be a considerable difference between the two mountain ranges.”“Das troo, massa, but de diff’rence don’t make much diff’rence to de legs. You see, wild rugged ground much de same wheder de mountains rise a few t’ousand foot, like dese, or poke der snow-topped heads troo de clouds right away up into de blue sky, like de Andes. Rugged ground is rugged ground, an’ hard on de legs all de same, an’ dis am rugged ’nuff even for ’Ockins!”The negro opened his huge mouth in an amiable laugh at his companion, who had taken advantage of the brief halt to give a hearty rub to his colossal limbs.“Rugged enough it is, no doubt,” said the sailor, gravely, “an’ it makes my sea-legs raither stiffish. But never you fear, Ebony; they’re tough, an’ will last as long as yours, anyhow.”“You’s right, ’Ockins. Dey’ll lastlongerdan mine by eight or ten hinches—if not more.”“Your jokes are small, Ebony, which is more than can be said for your mouth. Shut it, man, or some of us’ll go tumblin’ into it by accident.”While these two were indulging their little pleasantries, the guide and his friend Laihova had gone to the top of a neighbouring bluff to consult as to the best route to adopt in the present troubled state of the country.The view from the commanding height on which they stood was indeed marked by a rugged grandeur which might have done credit even to the giant Andes themselves, and offered a variety of routes, or rather obstructions to routes, which might well perplex men who were eager to cross country swiftly.The point which they had reached, and much of the range they had crossed, was formed of basalt in various stages of decomposition; but in the country before them, for several miles in advance, huge masses of granite and fragments of quartz indicated a change in the nature of the prevailing rock. The position of these masses, as well as their size, gave a wild Titanic aspect to much of the scenery.Many enormous stones projected out of the ground at various angles. One of these stood out horizontally to the distance of between twenty and thirty feet, forming a cave under it, in which it was evident, from sundry suggestive appearances, that wayfarers were accustomed to lodge. The neighbourhood of this cave formed one of the most romantic and picturesque scenes they had yet seen. It was a dark narrow vale, in many places not less than five hundred feet deep, with a considerable stream at the bottom, which brawled among detached and shattered rocks, or was partly lost to view in its meanderings among the beautiful green shrubs which clothed its banks. Various kinds of birds twittered among the bushes, and wherever water expanded in the form of pond or lakelet numerous waterfowl sported on the surface.“A glorious prospect!” exclaimed Mark, as he joined the guide and his friend, “and a splendid place, I should think, for fugitives from persecution.”He pointed, as he spoke, to the scene on his right, where masses of rock varying from thirty to fifty feet in length projected from the side of the ravine. On the top of these rested other masses in a position that seemed to threaten destruction to all who ventured beneath them.“The caves of this region,” said the guide, “have served to shelter the Christians many a time. It looks as if God had provided these blocks of granite for this very purpose, for the caverns which extend beneath them are dark and intricate, having many entrances, and being lighted in some places by openings between the blocks, while in other places they are profoundly dark and of unknown extent. See also, if you look at the stream below, they form a splendid bridge. At this distance they do not seem large, but some of these blocks are not less than a hundred feet long. This whole region is infested by robbers, but the recent act of the Queen in sending troops out to scour the country for fugitive Christians seems to have driven them away. But if they had been here we should have had little to fear, for robbers are not usually fond of attacking even small parties of men who are well able to defend themselves; besides, they do not injure the outlawed Christians much. Perhaps they have a sort of fellow-feeling for us!”At this point Laihova spoke a few words to the guide in the native tongue. The latter nodded approval, and turning to Mark, said—“We have been consulting about our route. There are two roads—one rugged, round-about, and safe, which would take us a longer time, however, to reach the capital than the other, which is the regular beaten path, through the villages. But this latter way lays us open to the danger of meeting with soldiers, and of my being captured along with my friend Laihova. There would be no danger to you and your friends, for you are strangers.”“Ravonino,” said Mark, quickly, “do what is best for rescuing Rafaravavy. We have no will but yours. We will follow wherever you choose to lead.”A quiet look of satisfaction played on the guide’s features as he turned to his friend.“What says Laihova? The Englishmen are willing to do whatever we wish.”“Let us go by the villages. Let us push on by night as well as by day,” said Laihova. “Time flies! Ranavalona is mad! Rafaravavy is in danger!”It was finally arranged that, at this place, which was considerably to the south of Antananarivo, they should diverge to the right, so as to avoid certain points of danger, and arrive ultimately at the eastern side of the capital.Having settled this point, the three men rejoined their comrades, who were still conversing amicably beside the spring. Thereafter they all descended into the valley by a steep and rugged pathway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A gate of entrance to the tomb we see,But a departure thence there ne’er shall be.The living waves his signal high,But where’s the loved one’s fond reply?Ah! where are those thus doomed to die?“Vain man! observ’st thou not the dead?No more their homeward path they tread.The freeman lost may ransom’d be,By silver’s magic power set free;But, once the deadly hand has laid them low,No voice can move them, for they cease to know.Regardless of our love they lie;Unknown the friends that o’er them sigh;Oh! where are those thus doom’d to die?”

“A gate of entrance to the tomb we see,But a departure thence there ne’er shall be.The living waves his signal high,But where’s the loved one’s fond reply?Ah! where are those thus doomed to die?“Vain man! observ’st thou not the dead?No more their homeward path they tread.The freeman lost may ransom’d be,By silver’s magic power set free;But, once the deadly hand has laid them low,No voice can move them, for they cease to know.Regardless of our love they lie;Unknown the friends that o’er them sigh;Oh! where are those thus doom’d to die?”

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

“Vain man! why groan ye for the dead?To be with Jesus they have fled,With shattered limbs—’mid scorching flame,They sang the praises of His name;Now, joy unspeakable, they tread the shoreWhence ransom’d sinners shall depart no more.But ah! while mangled corpses lie,Our trembling, riven heartswillcry—‘Why, why were those thus doom’d to die?’”

“Vain man! why groan ye for the dead?To be with Jesus they have fled,With shattered limbs—’mid scorching flame,They sang the praises of His name;Now, joy unspeakable, they tread the shoreWhence ransom’d sinners shall depart no more.But ah! while mangled corpses lie,Our trembling, riven heartswillcry—‘Why, why were those thus doom’d to die?’”

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

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

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

“My brother!”

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

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

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

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

“Listen,” he said, still holding the guide’s wrist in his powerful grasp. “I go to my poor wife. She is safe in the cave with Réni-Mamba—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm! I’d teach history suffin diff’rent if I had my way,” returned the negro.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so,” answered Mark, modestly.

“I’s cock-sure ob it,” said Ebony, “if we’s allowed lots o’ grub.”

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

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

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

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

“Used to it?” repeated Mark.

“Yes. Di’n’t I tell you I was born an’ raised among de Andes in Sout’ Ameriky?”

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

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

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

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

“You’s right, ’Ockins. Dey’ll lastlongerdan mine by eight or ten hinches—if not more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twelve.A Narrow Escape and Threatening Clouds.Their progress after leaving the spot described in the last chapter was not so rapid as could have been desired by anxious men, for it was absolutely necessary to proceed with extreme caution.Not only were the Queen’s troops out in various directions, but many of her spies had been seen prowling about, like the evil one they served, seeking whom they could devour. Of this the travellers were made aware at the first villages they came to; and as Ravonino had formerly been well-known at the capital, it became necessary for him not only to disguise himself, but to keep as much as possible out of sight.Disguising himself was not very difficult, owing to the fact that when he lived in Antananarivo he had, like his father, worn a bushy beard. This had made him a marked man, for the Malagasy, as a rule, have little beard, and what little they possess is usually pulled out by the roots. Since he became a fugitive the guide had shaved closely. This of itself went a long way to change his appearance; but when, in addition, he had modified the arrangement of his hair, and stained his face of a darker hue, he had made himself almost unrecognisable, even by his best friends. His chief difficulty was with his voice, which had a mellow sweetness in it that resisted modification. However, by keeping silence, or speaking low, he hoped to escape recognition until he should reach the vicinity of the capital, where he had friends who would gladly receive and conceal him, even at the risk of their lives.As to the great object that lay nearest his heart, he hoped to manage that through his friend Laihova, without himself entering the capital.Our travellers soon reached the inhabited part of the country, where, being surrounded by men and women going about, as well as journeying towards the Antananarivo market with provisions, etcetera, they ceased to attract much attention. Of course the Englishmen were subjects of curiosity—sometimes of inquiry,—but as Laihova reported that they were men who had been cast on the southern coast of the island and whom he was guiding to the capital, suspicion was not aroused.Laihova at this point became leader of the party, in order to enable the guide more easily to fall into the background; and he was all the more fitted for the position in that he had acquired a smattering of English from his friend Ravonino, and could both understand much of what was said to him and also make himself pretty well understood by his white friends.This part of the journey was by no means without adventure, sometimes of a kind that filled them with anxiety.One evening they approached a small hamlet, or group of cottages, where they learned, among other things, that two of the Queen’s spies were at that moment in the neighbourhood, searching for two ladies of the Court who had fled because Ranavalona had threatened them with imprisonment.“Are they young?” asked Ravonino, forgetting his caution in his anxiety.“I know not,” replied the man who had informed them of the fact. “I think some one told me they were not young—but I forget.”The guide said no more. He regretted having said so much, for the man glanced at him suspiciously.Affecting an air of unconcern he turned away and bade his comrades follow.“Come,” he said, when out of ear-shot of the man, “we must pass through this village quickly, for we know not in what house the spies may have taken up their quarters.”“But, don’ you tink,” suggested Ebony, “dat we five could wallop any oder five men in de univarse, to say not’ing ob two spies?”A grim smile was all the reply that the guide gave him, as he walked quickly along the path that led out of the hamlet.“I have a friend,” he said to Mark, “who lives in a solitary cottage half-a-mile further on. He is rich, and, I think, a Christian man—but secretly, for fear of the Queen. We will call at his house in passing.”As he spoke, they approached a large house by the roadside, the owner of which, a brown old gentleman, was enjoying himself with his wife and family in front of it.“Is that your friend?” asked Mark.“No; he lives in the house just beyond. We shall see it on clearing this group of trees.”The track which they were following led close past the large house above referred to, necessitating compliance with a custom of the country, which greatly surprised, and not a little amused, the Englishmen.We have spoken of the residence as a house, because it belonged to one owner, but it would be more correct to call it a farm-steading, or a group of buildings. Except among the very poorest people, a Malagasy family has usually two or three houses in its enclosure—frequently more, for young married people often live beside their parents, and some houses are appropriated to slaves, while others are used as kitchens, etcetera, the whole being surrounded by a wall of clay. Where a house is near the public road they have usually a little square platform, called thefijerèna, in an angle of the wall, or at the gate, with steps leading up to it. Here the family sits, when the work of the day is over, to watch—and, doubtless, to criticise—the passers-by; also to do the polite according to Malagasy ideas, for it must be told that these people are very courteous. Even the poorest have a natural dignity and ease of manner about them.As our travellers approached the house they were observed with much interest by the brown old gentleman and his comfortable-looking wife, and his pretty little light-brown daughter, and a very uncomfortable-looking elderly female with her head tied up, who were all squatted on thefijerèna.When within hearing Laihova stopped, and said in the politest tone and manner possible—“Will you allow me to pass, sir?”“Pray proceed, sir,” replied the old gentleman, with a gracious smile.This interchange of civilities was entirely formal, and stood in the place of the Englishman’s opening remarks on the weather, to which a Malagasy would as soon think of referring, in this connection, as he would to the hatching of crocodiles’ eggs.Then followed the conventional inquiry, “How are you? How is it with you?” which politenesses, in a number of variations unknown to Western speech, would have been continued, in ordinary circumstances, until the passers-by were beyond the range of hearing; but the appearance of the Englishmen induced the brown old gentleman on this occasion to beg the travellers to stop and accept his hospitality. This they declined to do, with many expressions of regret, on the ground that their business at the capital was urgent.“It would have gratified me much,” said the old gentleman, “to have entertained you. But you are all well, I hope?”“Yes, we are very well,” answered Laihova; “and how doyoufeel?”“I feel as well as possible. And is it well withyou?”“It is well with us. But it does not seem to be well with the lady,” returned Laihova, glancing at the uncomfortable female with her head tied up.“No, it is not well with her. She has toothache on the north side of her head. Farewell,” said the brown old gentleman, re-squatting on thefijerèna, as the travellers moved on; “may you live,” he shouted after them, when nearly out of ear-shot, “and reach old age.”Great was the amusement of our travellers at all this, especially when Ravonino explained about the toothache. “You must know,” he said, “that almost all the houses in the central provinces of the island are built with their length running north and south, or nearly so, and the people use the points of the compass in describing the position of things. Thus, if they tell a slave to look for a thing in the house, they will say, Look in the north, south, east, or west corner, or side; and they apply this rule to the person also. I once heard the member of a mission from England told by his host that some rice was sticking to his moustache. The missionary wiped the wrong side. ‘No,’ said the host, ‘it is on thesouthernside of your moustache.’”“Do you know,” said Mark Breezy, “that is not so strange to me as you might suppose; for I was once told by a friend who lived in the Scottish Highlands, that an old woman there actually said to her that she had toothache on the east side of her head!”Further comment on this point was arrested by their coming suddenly in sight of the house where the guide’s friend dwelt.“You had better stay here at the edge of this wood, while I go forward alone,” said the guide; “because although the man is kind, and has always professed to be my friend, I am not quite sure of him. It is well to be cautious. If I wave my hand to you, come up to the house, all will be well. If things don’t seem favourable I will return to you—but keep close; don’t show yourselves needlessly. You see, my friend is an officer of the palace. If friendly he can be very useful to us, if unfriendly he can be dangerous.”“But why run risk by going near him at all?” asked Mark.“Wemustrun risk when life and death are in the balance,” replied the guide, shortly.Concealed by the bushes, the travellers watched their companion as he went up to the house. Before he reached it a man opened the door and stepped out. Suddenly this man seemed to burst into a furious passion. He grasped Ravonino by the throat, almost threw him on his back, and, seizing a stick, began to belabour him violently, while two other men appeared at the door of the house, and, from their inordinate laughter, seemed fully to enjoy the scene.“Hi!” exclaimed Ebony in shrill falsetto, as he jumped up in blazing wrath, intending to rush to the rescue, but Hockins grasped his woolly head and pulled him back.“Obey orders, you black grampus! D’ee think he’s a babby as can’t take care of himself? Didn’t he tell us to keep close?”Great as had been the surprise of the watchers at this sudden and unprovoked assault, it was as nothing compared with their astonishment when they saw their guide fairly turn tail and run towards them, closely followed by the furious man, who continued to thrash him all the time.As Ravonino drew near, the angry man seemed to have exhausted himself, for he fell behind, and finally stopped. The guide ran on at full speed until he reached the wood, but did not even then slacken his speed. As he ran past his friends, however, he exclaimed in a sharp, stern voice—“Follow me!”Laihova obeyed with the unquestioning readiness of a faithful hound. The others followed suit with the open eyes of perplexity and amazement!Reaching a sequestered dell in a few minutes, Ravonino suddenly stopped and turned round with a calm air of satisfaction.“Well, dis am de most awrful supprise I’se had since my mudder give me my fust wollopin’.”The expression on the negro’s face rendered the remark needless.“It was well done,” said the guide, seating himself on the trunk of a fallen tree.“A’most too well done!” returned Hockins, with a touch of sarcasm.“Do you know,” continued the guide gravely, “I’ve had a narrow escape? The two men you saw laughing at the door are the very men we have been trying to avoid,—the Queen’s spies,—whom I have long known, and who would certainly have discovered me in spite of my shaved and stained face if we had come to talk to each other in the same room. Luckily my friend is smart as well as true. He knew my voice at once. To have talked with me, or warned me, or let me enter his house, would have been fatal. His only resource lay in thrashing me off his premises—as you have seen. How he will explain matters to the spies I know not, but I can trust him for that.”“Das most awrful clebber!” exclaimed Ebony, his every feature broadening with delight at the success of the ruse.“But what are we to do now?” asked Mark.“Wait till he comes here. He told me to wait.”“What! Told you?”“Ay—you don’t suppose he let his tongue lie idle while he was using his stick. Of course I was myself taken aback at first when he seized me by the throat, but two or three muttered words in the midst of his anger opened my eyes, and I ran at once. All the way as he ran after and belaboured me he was giving me important information in furious tones! The spies are only staying with him for a short rest. When they are gone he will come and find us here.”“He’s a born actor,” said Hockins.“True—and he acted some of his blows heavier than I could have wished, in his anxiety to impress his information on me!” said the guide.“What is his name?” asked Mark.“Fisatra. He is named after a great chief who lived in this district not long ago.—But here he comes to speak for himself.”At that moment a tall, fine-looking man, of very dark complexion, and clad in the ample folds of a beautiful lamba, approached them. His whole countenance was wrinkled with the lines of fun, and his brilliant teeth glistened as he smilingly held out his hand to the Englishmen, and asked them to accept his hospitality.As they passed into the house they saw two slave-girls pounding rice in a large wooden mortar, with two enormous wooden pestles, while the savoury steam that arose from some invisible kitchen served to put a finer edge on their already sharpened appetites.When the mats were spread, and the feast was being enjoyed, Ravonino asked the host how he had got rid of the spies, and how he managed to explain his conduct without raising their suspicions.“Nothing easier,” said Fisatra, while his broad shoulders heaved with an inward chuckle. “You know that I used to be feared in the palace in days gone bye because of my violent nature, and the way in which I used to knock about the furniture and make the household slaves—sometimes the household troops—scurry when I was in a rage. Yet I’m sure you know very well, (he looked sheepishly innocent here), that I never was an angry man—at least not a cruel one. But that’s all changed. I am one ofyourset now, though no one suspects it. Since I met Mr Ellis—”“Is Mr Ellis here just now?” interrupted Ravonino, anxiously.“Not now,” answered Fisatra; “he departed some weeks ago, but I believe has not yet left the coast. And now there is no check on the Queen’s violence. Well, as I was about to say, I took to the old habit in pretence, as you have seen, and when I returned from thrashing you I went storming through the house, kicking about the pots and pans, and foaming at the mouth in such a way that I not only stopped the spies laughing, but put them in fear of their lives.”Again the fun-wrinkles corrugated the visage of Fisatra, and his mighty shoulders heaved with internal explosions.“After I had calmed down a bit,” he continued, “the spies ventured to ask timidly if that was a great enemy that I had beaten. This set me into, a worse passion than ever. ‘Enemy?’ I shouted ‘no—no—not an enemy—he—he’s a—a—’ but I got no further than that, for I didn’t know what to say, and I wouldn’t lie, so I took to foaming and stamping again! At last I said, ‘Don’t speak to me about him—excuse me, my friends; I can’t stand it—and—and the rice is nearly ready. You must be hungry!’ I said this with a look and tone as if another fit was coming on. They excused themselves. ‘No,’ they said, ‘we are not hungry, and we have yet far to go this day before the sun descends. The Queen’s orders will not wait.’ And off they went, glad to get out of my way. Truly, if it is sinful to get in a rage, it is useful sometimes to act it! So now, my friends, eat—eat—while you have the chance, and fear not the return of the spies!”“Tell me,” said the guide, anxiously, “are you sure that Rafaravavy is still safe?”“She is still safe—but no one knows how long that may be, for she is fearless, and utters the forbidden prayers even in the presence of the Queen. If it had not been for the love that Ranavalona bears her, she would have been tossed from the ‘rock of hurling’ long ago.”“Faithful, even unto death,” said the guide, with a look and tone in which pathos and triumph were strangely blended.“She has not yet been tried to that extent, but if she is, God will enable her to stand firm,” said Fisatra, whose grave child-like sincerity, when talking of religious subjects, was not less impulsively honest and natural than were the outbursts of his fun when another humour stirred his feelings.The “rock” to which he alluded was a frightful precipice at one side of the city from which criminals were usually hurled—a spot which is hallowed by the blood of many Christian martyrs who perished there during the long reign of that tyrant queen Ranavalona.“Has then the queen forbidden the Christians to pray?” asked Ravonino.“Have you not heard?—but of course you have not, being an outlaw and having only just returned. Recently a very bad fit has come over the Queen. You know that for some years past there have been a few French people living in Antananarivo, who by their knowledge and skill in mechanics and mercantile matters have made themselves useful to our government. These men lately tried to dethrone the Queen, on pretence of delivering the country from her cruelties, and establishing a ‘French Protectorate.’ They gained over some of our chief men, collected in one of their houses a large quantity of weapons and ammunition, and had even fixed the night when the palace was to be invaded, the Queen seized, and the Protectorate set up. Fortunately the plot came to my knowledge. I say fortunately, because a bad queen is better than a French Protectorate, for the first will die, but the latter might never end! Well, I at once informed the Queen, who had the conspirators seized and banished from the country for ever. Among them were a Roman Catholic lady and two Jesuits. The anger of the Queen was of course very great, and she has had, as I have said, a very bad fit against the Christians; for, as these unprincipled conspirators have the name though none of the reality of Christians, she naturally mixed us all up together—and I know not what the end will be, but I have much fear, because the Queen is very angry.”“Has she done nothing yet?” asked Ravonino.“Nothing—except threaten and fume. But when the black cloud is overhead, and muttering thunder is heard, one knows too well what to expect—especially when one has been exposed to the storm in former years.”“The sun is shining behind the black cloud and it will break through when the Master wills,” said Laihova, joining in the conversation for the first time that evening, and looking earnestly at his friend Ravonino, as if the words were meant for his ear alone—as indeed they were.“Thanks, thanks, my friend, for the comforting words,” said Ravonino, “and I take shame to myself that my faith is so weak.”“You will spend the night with me?” said their host to the guide.“No, Fisatra, I dare not delay. Even now I may be too late. I will journey all night.”Ravonino rose quickly and prepared to go. The others followed his example, and soon the party was proceeding rapidly along the high-road towards the capital, under a cloudless sky and a galaxy of twinkling stars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that your friend?” asked Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you allow me to pass, sir?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, we are very well,” answered Laihova; “and how doyoufeel?”

“I feel as well as possible. And is it well withyou?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wemustrun risk when life and death are in the balance,” replied the guide, shortly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Follow me!”

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

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

“Well, dis am de most awrful supprise I’se had since my mudder give me my fust wollopin’.”

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

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

“A’most too well done!” returned Hockins, with a touch of sarcasm.

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

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

“But what are we to do now?” asked Mark.

“Wait till he comes here. He told me to wait.”

“What! Told you?”

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

“He’s a born actor,” said Hockins.

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

“What is his name?” asked Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is still safe—but no one knows how long that may be, for she is fearless, and utters the forbidden prayers even in the presence of the Queen. If it had not been for the love that Ranavalona bears her, she would have been tossed from the ‘rock of hurling’ long ago.”

“Faithful, even unto death,” said the guide, with a look and tone in which pathos and triumph were strangely blended.

“She has not yet been tried to that extent, but if she is, God will enable her to stand firm,” said Fisatra, whose grave child-like sincerity, when talking of religious subjects, was not less impulsively honest and natural than were the outbursts of his fun when another humour stirred his feelings.

The “rock” to which he alluded was a frightful precipice at one side of the city from which criminals were usually hurled—a spot which is hallowed by the blood of many Christian martyrs who perished there during the long reign of that tyrant queen Ranavalona.

“Has then the queen forbidden the Christians to pray?” asked Ravonino.

“Have you not heard?—but of course you have not, being an outlaw and having only just returned. Recently a very bad fit has come over the Queen. You know that for some years past there have been a few French people living in Antananarivo, who by their knowledge and skill in mechanics and mercantile matters have made themselves useful to our government. These men lately tried to dethrone the Queen, on pretence of delivering the country from her cruelties, and establishing a ‘French Protectorate.’ They gained over some of our chief men, collected in one of their houses a large quantity of weapons and ammunition, and had even fixed the night when the palace was to be invaded, the Queen seized, and the Protectorate set up. Fortunately the plot came to my knowledge. I say fortunately, because a bad queen is better than a French Protectorate, for the first will die, but the latter might never end! Well, I at once informed the Queen, who had the conspirators seized and banished from the country for ever. Among them were a Roman Catholic lady and two Jesuits. The anger of the Queen was of course very great, and she has had, as I have said, a very bad fit against the Christians; for, as these unprincipled conspirators have the name though none of the reality of Christians, she naturally mixed us all up together—and I know not what the end will be, but I have much fear, because the Queen is very angry.”

“Has she done nothing yet?” asked Ravonino.

“Nothing—except threaten and fume. But when the black cloud is overhead, and muttering thunder is heard, one knows too well what to expect—especially when one has been exposed to the storm in former years.”

“The sun is shining behind the black cloud and it will break through when the Master wills,” said Laihova, joining in the conversation for the first time that evening, and looking earnestly at his friend Ravonino, as if the words were meant for his ear alone—as indeed they were.

“Thanks, thanks, my friend, for the comforting words,” said Ravonino, “and I take shame to myself that my faith is so weak.”

“You will spend the night with me?” said their host to the guide.

“No, Fisatra, I dare not delay. Even now I may be too late. I will journey all night.”

Ravonino rose quickly and prepared to go. The others followed his example, and soon the party was proceeding rapidly along the high-road towards the capital, under a cloudless sky and a galaxy of twinkling stars.

Back to IndexNext