Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Six.Doctor Breezy prescribes for the Queen, and attains to Temporary and “Perfik F’licity.”While these events were taking place in the forest, Queen Ranavalona was keeping her Court Physician and his comrades in a state of considerable uneasiness, not only with reference to the safety of their own heads, but because of her violent edicts regarding her Christian subjects.She renewed her commands as to the necessity of every one coming forward, on pain of instant death in the event of disobedience, and accusing themselves, with the reiterated assurance that if they failed to comply and they were afterwards accused by others they should be subjected to the ordeal of the Tangena, and slain or reduced to perpetual slavery if found guilty.The whole city was in a panic. No one felt safe. Under the influence of fear some accused themselves, expecting, no doubt, that their punishment would be lightened. Others remained quiet, hoping that they might escape detection, while many were accused by false friends as well as by enemies, and fell victims under the poison ordeal. Others, again, stood firm, and boldly proclaimed their faith in the Lord Jesus and their readiness to die if need be for His cause.After the accusations, trials, and investigations, sentences were read which deprived four hundred officers and nobles of their honours, and levied fines on the remainder to the number of about two thousand. One would have thought that the mere necessity for such widespread punishment would have shown the Queen how deeply the new religion had taken root, and how hopeless it was to attempt its suppression, but she did not see it in that light. On the contrary, she issued a mandate requiring all books to be delivered up to her officers, and threatening death against any who should keep back or hide even a single leaf. She also commanded her subjects never again even to “think of the Christian lessons they had learned, but to blot them from their memories for ever!”Among those who boldly held to their opinions was the Queen’s own son Rakota, who, however, as we have seen, did not run quite so much risk as others, owing to his mother’s affection for him. The Prime Minister’s son, also, and Prince Ramonja, made no effort to conceal their opinions, though they were wise enough to refrain from exasperating the angry Queen by asserting them openly.One morning the Prime Minister sent a message to the Court Physician, requiring his immediate attendance at the palace. Mark was seated in his own room at the time, talking with Hockins and Ebony about the gloomy state of affairs. A slight feeling of dismay fluttered the heart of each when the message came, for death-warrants were much in the air at that time.“Oh, massa, p’r’aps dey’re a-goin’ to kill you!” was the negro’s comforting suggestion.“More likely they want him to cure the Queen,” said Hockins.“Couldn’t you, massa,” whispered Ebony, with a terribly solemn countenance, “mix a spoonful—a bery small spoonful—ob prussic acid, or creosote, or suffin ob dat sort, wid ’er physic?”Mark laughed, and shook his head as he went out.He found Rainiharo, with a tremendous frown on his face and deep lines of care on his brow, seated in front of our friend the Secretary, who had an open book on his knee. Three other officers of the palace sat beside them. These constituted a court of inquiry into the contents of the suspected books, and the Secretary, being the only literary character among them, was the appointed reader.“Come here. Sit down,” said Rainiharo, sternly pointing to a seat; “we want you to explain your books. The Queen commands us to examine them, and, if we find anything contrary to her wishes in them, to condemn them to the flames. But it seems to us that there is nothing in them but rubbish which we cannot understand.”Strange, is it not, that in barbaric as well as in civilised lands, people are apt to regard as rubbish that which they do not understand?So thought the Court Physician, but he wisely held his tongue and sat down.“This book,” said the Prime Minister, pointing with a look of mingled contempt and exasperation to the volume on the Secretary’s knee, “is worse than the last. The one we condemned yesterday was what you call your Bible. We began with it because it was the biggest book. Being practical men we began at the beginning, intending to go straight through and give it a fair hearing. We began at Gen—Gen—what was it?”“Genesis,” answered the Secretary.“Genzis—yes. Well, we found nothing to object to in the first verse, but in the second—the very second—we found the word ‘darkness.’ This was sufficient! Queen Ranavalona does not like darkness, so we condemned it at once—unanimously—for we could not for a moment tolerate anything withdarknessin it.”Mark felt an almost irresistible desire to laugh outright, but as the gratification of that desire might have cost him his head he did resist it successfully.“Now,” continued the Prime Minister, with a darker frown, “we have got to the Pil—Pil—what is it?”“Pilgrim’s Progress,” answered the Secretary. “Just so—thePilgim’s Progress. Well, we agreed that we would give thePil—Pilgim’s Progressa better chance, so we opened it, as it were, anyhow, and what do we come on—the very first thing—but a man named Obstinate! Now, if there is one thing that the Queen hates more than another it is an obstinate man. She cannot abide obstinate men. In fact, she has none such about her, for the few men of that sort that have turned up now and then have invariably lost their heads. But we wanted to be fair, so we read on, and what do we find as one of the first things that Obstinate says? He says, ‘Tush! away with your book!’ Now, if the man himself condemns the book, is our Queen likely to spare it? But there are some things in the book which we cannot understand, so we have sent for you to explain it. Now,” added Rainiharo, turning to the Secretary, “translate all that to the maker of physic and tell me what he has to answer.”It was a strange and difficult duty that our young student was thus unexpectedly and suddenly called to perform, and never before had he felt so deeply the difference between knowing a subject and expounding it. There was no escape, however, from the situation. He was not only bound by fear of his life, but by Scripture itself, “to give a reason of the hope that was in him,” and he rose to the occasion with vigour, praying, mentally, for guidance, and also blessing his mother for having subjected him in childhood—much against his will!—to a pretty stiff and systematic training in the truths of Scripture as well as in the story of thePilgrim’s Progress.But no exposition that he could give sufficed to affect the foregone conclusion that both the Bible and the Pilgrim, containing as they did matter that was offensive to the Queen, were worthy of condemnation, and, therefore, doomed to the flames.Having settled this knotty point in a statesmanlike manner, Rainiharo bade Mark and the Secretary remain with him, and dismissed his three colleagues.“You see,” he said, after some moments of anxious thought, “although I agree with the Queen in her desire to stamp out the Christian religion, I have no desire that my son and my nephew should be stamped out along with it; therefore I wish to have your assistance, doctor, in turning the mind of Ranavalona away from persecution to some extent for in her present mood she is dangerous alike to friend and foe. Indeed I would not give much for your own life if she becomes more violent. How is this to be done, think you?”The question was indeed a puzzler, for it amounted to this—“How are we to manage a furious, blood-thirsty woman with the reins loose on her neck and the bit fast in her teeth?”“I know not,” said Mark at last, “but I will think the matter over and talk with you again.”“If I may be allowed to speak,” said the Secretary.“You are allowed,” returned the Premier.“Then I would advise that the Queen should arrange a grand journey—a procession—all over the country, with thousands of her soldiers. This will let her have plenty of fresh air and exercise, change of scene, and excitement, and will give her something to do till her blood cools. At the same time it will show the people her great power and perhaps induce them to be cautious how they resist her will.”“The idea is good,” said Mark, with animation, “so good that I would advise its being carried out immediately—even before another week passes.”Rainiharo shook his head. “Impossible. There is to be a great bull-fight this week, and you know Ranavalona will allow nothing to interfere with that. Besides, it takes time to get up such an expedition as you suggest. However, I like the notion well. Go. I will think over it and see you again.”The bull-fighting to which the Premier referred was a favourite amusement with this blood-thirsty woman, and the spectacle usually took place in the royal court-yard. Rainiharo was right when he said the Queen would not forego it, but she was so pleased with the plan of a royal progress through the country that she gave orders to make ready for it at once in an extensive scale.“You will of course accompany me,” she said to Mark, when he was summoned to a subsequent audience, “I may be ill, or my bearers may fall and I may be injured.”“Certainly,” he replied, “nothing would afford the Court Physician greater pleasure than to attend upon her Majesty on such an expedition. But I would ask a favour,” continued Mark. “May my black servant accompany me? He is very useful in assisting me with my medicines, and—”“Yes, yes,” interrupted the Queen, “let him go with you by all means. He shall have bearers if you choose. And take yon other man also—with his music. I love his little pipe!”In some excitement Mark went off to tell his comrades the news—which Hockins received with a grunt of satisfaction, and the negro with a burst of joy. Indeed the anxieties and worries they had recently experienced in the city, coupled with the tyranny and bloodshed which they witnessed, had so depressed the three friends that the mere idea of getting once again into the fresh free open plains and forests afforded them pleasure somewhat akin to that of the school-boy when he obtains an unexpected holiday.Great was the excitement all over the country when the Queen’s intention was made known. The idea was not indeed a novelty. Malagasy sovereigns had been in the habit of making such progresses from time to time in former years. The wise King Radama the First frequently went on hunting expeditions with more or less of display. But knowing as they did, only too well, the cruel character of Ranavalona the First, the people feared that the desire to terrify and suppress had more to do with the event than pleasure or health.At last, everything being complete, the Queen left the capital, and directed her course to the south-westward. Her enormous retinue consisted of the members of the Government, the principal military and civil officers and their wives, six thousand soldiers, and a host of slaves, bearers, and other attendants; the whole numbering about 40,000 souls.Great preparations had been made for the journey in the way of providing large stores of rice, herds of cattle, and other provisions, but those who knew the difficulties of the proposed route, and the thinly populated character of the country, looked with considerable apprehension on the prospects of the journey. Some there were, no doubt, who regarded these prospects with a lively hope that the Queen might never more return to her capital!Of course such a multitude travelled very slowly, as may well be believed when it is said that they had about 1500 palanquins in the host, for there was not a wheeled vehicle in Madagascar at that time. The soldiers were formed in five divisions; one carrying the tents, one the cooking apparatus and spears, and one the guns and sleeping-mats. The other two had always to be in readiness for any service required about the Queen. The camp was divided into four parts; the Queen being in the middle, in a blue tent, surrounded, wherever she halted for the night, by high palisades, and near to this was pitched a tent containing the idols of the royal family. The tent of the Prime Minister, with the Malagasy flag, was pitched to the north of that of the Queen. East, west, and south, were occupied by other high officers of State, and among the latter was the tent of our friends, Mark, Hockins, and Ebony.“Now,” said the first of these, as he sat in the door of the tent one evening after supper, watching the rich glow of sunshine that flooded a wide stretch of beautiful country in front of him, “this would be perfect felicity if only we had freedom to move about at our own pleasure and hunt up the treasures in botany, entomology, etcetera, that are scattered around us.”“True, Massa,” returned Ebony, “it would be perfik f’licity if we could forgit de poor Christ’ns in chains an’ pris’ns.”“Right, Ebony, right. I am selfishly thinking only of myself at the present moment. But let us hope we may manage to do these poor Christians good before we leave the land.”“I don’t think, myself, that we’ll get much fun out o’ this trip,” remarked Hockins. “You see the Queen’s too fond o’ your physickin’ and of my tootootlin’ to part with us even for a day at a time. If we was like Ebony, now, we might go where we liked an’ no one ud care.”“Ob course not,” replied the negro, promptly, “peepil’s nebber anxious about whar wise men goes to; it’s on’y child’in an’ stoopid folk dey’s got to tink about. But why not ax de Queen, massa, for leabe ob absence to go a-huntin’?”“Because she’d be sure to refuse,” said Mark. “No, I see no way out of this difficulty. We are too useful to be spared!”But Mark was wrong. That very night he was sent for by the Prime Minister, and as he passed the Secretary’s tent he called him out to act as interpreter. On reaching the tent on the north side they found Rainiharo doubled up on his mat and groaning in agony.“What’s wrong?” demanded the doctor.“Everything!” replied the patient.“Describe your feelings,” said the doctor.“I’ve—I’ve got a red-hot stone,” groaned Rainiharo, “somewhere in my inwards! Thorny shrubs are revolving in my stomach! Young crocodiles are masticating my—oh!”At this point his power of description failed; but that matters little, for, never having met with the disease before, we can neither describe it nor give it a name. The young doctor did not know it, but he knew exactly what to do, and did it. We cannot report what he did, but we can state the result, which was great relief in a few minutes and a perfect cure before morning! Most men are grateful under such circumstances—even the cruel Rainiharo was so.“What can I do for you?” he asked, affectionately, next day.A sudden inspiration seized the doctor, “Beg the Queen,” he said, “to let me and my two friends wander round the host all day, and every day, for a short time, and I will return to report myself each night.”“For what purpose?” asked the Premier, in some surprise.“To pluck plants and catch butterflies.”“Is the young doctor anxious to renew his childhood?”“Something of the sort, no doubt. But there is medicine in the plants, and—and—interest, if nothing else, in the butterflies.”“Medicine in the plants” was a sufficient explanation to the Premier. What he said to the Queen we know not, but he quickly returned with the required permission, and Mark went to his couch that night in a state of what Ebony styled “perfik f’licity.”Behold our trio, then, once more alone in the great forests of Madagascar—at least almost alone, for the Secretary was with them, for the double purpose of gaining instruction and seeing that the strangers did not lose themselves. As they were able to move about twice as fast as the host, they could wander around, here, there, and everywhere, or rest at pleasure without fear of being left behind.

While these events were taking place in the forest, Queen Ranavalona was keeping her Court Physician and his comrades in a state of considerable uneasiness, not only with reference to the safety of their own heads, but because of her violent edicts regarding her Christian subjects.

She renewed her commands as to the necessity of every one coming forward, on pain of instant death in the event of disobedience, and accusing themselves, with the reiterated assurance that if they failed to comply and they were afterwards accused by others they should be subjected to the ordeal of the Tangena, and slain or reduced to perpetual slavery if found guilty.

The whole city was in a panic. No one felt safe. Under the influence of fear some accused themselves, expecting, no doubt, that their punishment would be lightened. Others remained quiet, hoping that they might escape detection, while many were accused by false friends as well as by enemies, and fell victims under the poison ordeal. Others, again, stood firm, and boldly proclaimed their faith in the Lord Jesus and their readiness to die if need be for His cause.

After the accusations, trials, and investigations, sentences were read which deprived four hundred officers and nobles of their honours, and levied fines on the remainder to the number of about two thousand. One would have thought that the mere necessity for such widespread punishment would have shown the Queen how deeply the new religion had taken root, and how hopeless it was to attempt its suppression, but she did not see it in that light. On the contrary, she issued a mandate requiring all books to be delivered up to her officers, and threatening death against any who should keep back or hide even a single leaf. She also commanded her subjects never again even to “think of the Christian lessons they had learned, but to blot them from their memories for ever!”

Among those who boldly held to their opinions was the Queen’s own son Rakota, who, however, as we have seen, did not run quite so much risk as others, owing to his mother’s affection for him. The Prime Minister’s son, also, and Prince Ramonja, made no effort to conceal their opinions, though they were wise enough to refrain from exasperating the angry Queen by asserting them openly.

One morning the Prime Minister sent a message to the Court Physician, requiring his immediate attendance at the palace. Mark was seated in his own room at the time, talking with Hockins and Ebony about the gloomy state of affairs. A slight feeling of dismay fluttered the heart of each when the message came, for death-warrants were much in the air at that time.

“Oh, massa, p’r’aps dey’re a-goin’ to kill you!” was the negro’s comforting suggestion.

“More likely they want him to cure the Queen,” said Hockins.

“Couldn’t you, massa,” whispered Ebony, with a terribly solemn countenance, “mix a spoonful—a bery small spoonful—ob prussic acid, or creosote, or suffin ob dat sort, wid ’er physic?”

Mark laughed, and shook his head as he went out.

He found Rainiharo, with a tremendous frown on his face and deep lines of care on his brow, seated in front of our friend the Secretary, who had an open book on his knee. Three other officers of the palace sat beside them. These constituted a court of inquiry into the contents of the suspected books, and the Secretary, being the only literary character among them, was the appointed reader.

“Come here. Sit down,” said Rainiharo, sternly pointing to a seat; “we want you to explain your books. The Queen commands us to examine them, and, if we find anything contrary to her wishes in them, to condemn them to the flames. But it seems to us that there is nothing in them but rubbish which we cannot understand.”

Strange, is it not, that in barbaric as well as in civilised lands, people are apt to regard as rubbish that which they do not understand?

So thought the Court Physician, but he wisely held his tongue and sat down.

“This book,” said the Prime Minister, pointing with a look of mingled contempt and exasperation to the volume on the Secretary’s knee, “is worse than the last. The one we condemned yesterday was what you call your Bible. We began with it because it was the biggest book. Being practical men we began at the beginning, intending to go straight through and give it a fair hearing. We began at Gen—Gen—what was it?”

“Genesis,” answered the Secretary.

“Genzis—yes. Well, we found nothing to object to in the first verse, but in the second—the very second—we found the word ‘darkness.’ This was sufficient! Queen Ranavalona does not like darkness, so we condemned it at once—unanimously—for we could not for a moment tolerate anything withdarknessin it.”

Mark felt an almost irresistible desire to laugh outright, but as the gratification of that desire might have cost him his head he did resist it successfully.

“Now,” continued the Prime Minister, with a darker frown, “we have got to the Pil—Pil—what is it?”

“Pilgrim’s Progress,” answered the Secretary. “Just so—thePilgim’s Progress. Well, we agreed that we would give thePil—Pilgim’s Progressa better chance, so we opened it, as it were, anyhow, and what do we come on—the very first thing—but a man named Obstinate! Now, if there is one thing that the Queen hates more than another it is an obstinate man. She cannot abide obstinate men. In fact, she has none such about her, for the few men of that sort that have turned up now and then have invariably lost their heads. But we wanted to be fair, so we read on, and what do we find as one of the first things that Obstinate says? He says, ‘Tush! away with your book!’ Now, if the man himself condemns the book, is our Queen likely to spare it? But there are some things in the book which we cannot understand, so we have sent for you to explain it. Now,” added Rainiharo, turning to the Secretary, “translate all that to the maker of physic and tell me what he has to answer.”

It was a strange and difficult duty that our young student was thus unexpectedly and suddenly called to perform, and never before had he felt so deeply the difference between knowing a subject and expounding it. There was no escape, however, from the situation. He was not only bound by fear of his life, but by Scripture itself, “to give a reason of the hope that was in him,” and he rose to the occasion with vigour, praying, mentally, for guidance, and also blessing his mother for having subjected him in childhood—much against his will!—to a pretty stiff and systematic training in the truths of Scripture as well as in the story of thePilgrim’s Progress.

But no exposition that he could give sufficed to affect the foregone conclusion that both the Bible and the Pilgrim, containing as they did matter that was offensive to the Queen, were worthy of condemnation, and, therefore, doomed to the flames.

Having settled this knotty point in a statesmanlike manner, Rainiharo bade Mark and the Secretary remain with him, and dismissed his three colleagues.

“You see,” he said, after some moments of anxious thought, “although I agree with the Queen in her desire to stamp out the Christian religion, I have no desire that my son and my nephew should be stamped out along with it; therefore I wish to have your assistance, doctor, in turning the mind of Ranavalona away from persecution to some extent for in her present mood she is dangerous alike to friend and foe. Indeed I would not give much for your own life if she becomes more violent. How is this to be done, think you?”

The question was indeed a puzzler, for it amounted to this—

“How are we to manage a furious, blood-thirsty woman with the reins loose on her neck and the bit fast in her teeth?”

“I know not,” said Mark at last, “but I will think the matter over and talk with you again.”

“If I may be allowed to speak,” said the Secretary.

“You are allowed,” returned the Premier.

“Then I would advise that the Queen should arrange a grand journey—a procession—all over the country, with thousands of her soldiers. This will let her have plenty of fresh air and exercise, change of scene, and excitement, and will give her something to do till her blood cools. At the same time it will show the people her great power and perhaps induce them to be cautious how they resist her will.”

“The idea is good,” said Mark, with animation, “so good that I would advise its being carried out immediately—even before another week passes.”

Rainiharo shook his head. “Impossible. There is to be a great bull-fight this week, and you know Ranavalona will allow nothing to interfere with that. Besides, it takes time to get up such an expedition as you suggest. However, I like the notion well. Go. I will think over it and see you again.”

The bull-fighting to which the Premier referred was a favourite amusement with this blood-thirsty woman, and the spectacle usually took place in the royal court-yard. Rainiharo was right when he said the Queen would not forego it, but she was so pleased with the plan of a royal progress through the country that she gave orders to make ready for it at once in an extensive scale.

“You will of course accompany me,” she said to Mark, when he was summoned to a subsequent audience, “I may be ill, or my bearers may fall and I may be injured.”

“Certainly,” he replied, “nothing would afford the Court Physician greater pleasure than to attend upon her Majesty on such an expedition. But I would ask a favour,” continued Mark. “May my black servant accompany me? He is very useful in assisting me with my medicines, and—”

“Yes, yes,” interrupted the Queen, “let him go with you by all means. He shall have bearers if you choose. And take yon other man also—with his music. I love his little pipe!”

In some excitement Mark went off to tell his comrades the news—which Hockins received with a grunt of satisfaction, and the negro with a burst of joy. Indeed the anxieties and worries they had recently experienced in the city, coupled with the tyranny and bloodshed which they witnessed, had so depressed the three friends that the mere idea of getting once again into the fresh free open plains and forests afforded them pleasure somewhat akin to that of the school-boy when he obtains an unexpected holiday.

Great was the excitement all over the country when the Queen’s intention was made known. The idea was not indeed a novelty. Malagasy sovereigns had been in the habit of making such progresses from time to time in former years. The wise King Radama the First frequently went on hunting expeditions with more or less of display. But knowing as they did, only too well, the cruel character of Ranavalona the First, the people feared that the desire to terrify and suppress had more to do with the event than pleasure or health.

At last, everything being complete, the Queen left the capital, and directed her course to the south-westward. Her enormous retinue consisted of the members of the Government, the principal military and civil officers and their wives, six thousand soldiers, and a host of slaves, bearers, and other attendants; the whole numbering about 40,000 souls.

Great preparations had been made for the journey in the way of providing large stores of rice, herds of cattle, and other provisions, but those who knew the difficulties of the proposed route, and the thinly populated character of the country, looked with considerable apprehension on the prospects of the journey. Some there were, no doubt, who regarded these prospects with a lively hope that the Queen might never more return to her capital!

Of course such a multitude travelled very slowly, as may well be believed when it is said that they had about 1500 palanquins in the host, for there was not a wheeled vehicle in Madagascar at that time. The soldiers were formed in five divisions; one carrying the tents, one the cooking apparatus and spears, and one the guns and sleeping-mats. The other two had always to be in readiness for any service required about the Queen. The camp was divided into four parts; the Queen being in the middle, in a blue tent, surrounded, wherever she halted for the night, by high palisades, and near to this was pitched a tent containing the idols of the royal family. The tent of the Prime Minister, with the Malagasy flag, was pitched to the north of that of the Queen. East, west, and south, were occupied by other high officers of State, and among the latter was the tent of our friends, Mark, Hockins, and Ebony.

“Now,” said the first of these, as he sat in the door of the tent one evening after supper, watching the rich glow of sunshine that flooded a wide stretch of beautiful country in front of him, “this would be perfect felicity if only we had freedom to move about at our own pleasure and hunt up the treasures in botany, entomology, etcetera, that are scattered around us.”

“True, Massa,” returned Ebony, “it would be perfik f’licity if we could forgit de poor Christ’ns in chains an’ pris’ns.”

“Right, Ebony, right. I am selfishly thinking only of myself at the present moment. But let us hope we may manage to do these poor Christians good before we leave the land.”

“I don’t think, myself, that we’ll get much fun out o’ this trip,” remarked Hockins. “You see the Queen’s too fond o’ your physickin’ and of my tootootlin’ to part with us even for a day at a time. If we was like Ebony, now, we might go where we liked an’ no one ud care.”

“Ob course not,” replied the negro, promptly, “peepil’s nebber anxious about whar wise men goes to; it’s on’y child’in an’ stoopid folk dey’s got to tink about. But why not ax de Queen, massa, for leabe ob absence to go a-huntin’?”

“Because she’d be sure to refuse,” said Mark. “No, I see no way out of this difficulty. We are too useful to be spared!”

But Mark was wrong. That very night he was sent for by the Prime Minister, and as he passed the Secretary’s tent he called him out to act as interpreter. On reaching the tent on the north side they found Rainiharo doubled up on his mat and groaning in agony.

“What’s wrong?” demanded the doctor.

“Everything!” replied the patient.

“Describe your feelings,” said the doctor.

“I’ve—I’ve got a red-hot stone,” groaned Rainiharo, “somewhere in my inwards! Thorny shrubs are revolving in my stomach! Young crocodiles are masticating my—oh!”

At this point his power of description failed; but that matters little, for, never having met with the disease before, we can neither describe it nor give it a name. The young doctor did not know it, but he knew exactly what to do, and did it. We cannot report what he did, but we can state the result, which was great relief in a few minutes and a perfect cure before morning! Most men are grateful under such circumstances—even the cruel Rainiharo was so.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, affectionately, next day.

A sudden inspiration seized the doctor, “Beg the Queen,” he said, “to let me and my two friends wander round the host all day, and every day, for a short time, and I will return to report myself each night.”

“For what purpose?” asked the Premier, in some surprise.

“To pluck plants and catch butterflies.”

“Is the young doctor anxious to renew his childhood?”

“Something of the sort, no doubt. But there is medicine in the plants, and—and—interest, if nothing else, in the butterflies.”

“Medicine in the plants” was a sufficient explanation to the Premier. What he said to the Queen we know not, but he quickly returned with the required permission, and Mark went to his couch that night in a state of what Ebony styled “perfik f’licity.”

Behold our trio, then, once more alone in the great forests of Madagascar—at least almost alone, for the Secretary was with them, for the double purpose of gaining instruction and seeing that the strangers did not lose themselves. As they were able to move about twice as fast as the host, they could wander around, here, there, and everywhere, or rest at pleasure without fear of being left behind.

Chapter Twenty Seven.In which a Happy Change for the Better is Disastrously Interrupted.One very sultry forenoon Mark and his party—while out botanising, entomologising, philosophising, etcetera, not far from but out of sight of the great procession—came to the brow of a hill and sat down to rest.Their appearance had become somewhat curious and brigand-like by that time, for their original garments having been worn-out were partially replaced by means of the scissors and needle of John Hockins—at least in the trousers department. That worthy seaman having, during his travels, torn his original trousers to shreds from the knee downwards, had procured some stout canvas in the capital and made for himself another pair. He was, like most sailors, expert at tailoring, and the result was so good that Mark and Ebony became envious. The seaman was obliging. He set to work and made a pair of nether garments for both. Mark wore his pair stuffed into the legs of a pair of Wellington boots procured from a trader. Ebony preferred to cut his off short, just below the knee, thus exposing to view those black boots supplied to negroes by Nature, which have the advantage of never wearing out. Hockins himself stuck to his navy shirt, but the others found striped cotton shirts sufficient. A native straw hat on Mark’s head and a silk scarf round his waist, with a cavalry pistol in it, enhanced the brigand-like aspect of his costume.This pistol was their only fire-arm, the gun having been broken beyond repair, but each carried a spear in one hand, a gauze butterfly-net in the other, and a basket, in lieu of a specimen-box, on his shoulder. Even the Secretary, entering into the spirit of the thing; carried a net and pursued the butterflies with the ardour of a boy.“Oh! massa,” exclaimed Ebony, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with a bunch of grass, “Idolub science!”“Indeed, why so?” asked Mark, sitting down on a bank opposite his friend.“Why, don’t you see, massa, it’s not comfortabil for a man what’s got any feelin’s to go troo de land huntin’ an’ killin’ cattle an’ oder brutes fornoting. You can’t eat more nor one hox—p’r’aps not dat. So w’en you’ve kill ’im an’ eaten so much as you can, dar’s no more fun, for what fun is dere in slaughterin’ hoxes fornoting? Den, if you goes arter bees an’ butterflies on’y for fun, w’y you git shamed ob yourself. On’y a chile do dat. But science, dat put ’im all right! Away you goes arter de bees and butterflies an’ tings like mad—ober de hills an’ far away—troo de woods, across de ribbers—sometimes into ’em!—crashin’ an’ smashin’ like de bull in de china-shop, wid de proud feelin’ bustin’ your buzzum dat you’re advancin’ de noble cause ob science—dat’s what you call ’im, ‘noble?’—yes. Well, den you come home done up, so pleasant like, an’ sot down an’ fix de critters up wid pins an’ gum an’ sitch-like, and arter dat you show ’em to your larned friends an’ call ’em awrful hard names, (sometimes dey seem likebadnames!) an’—oh! Idolub science! It’s wot I once heard a captin ob a ribber steamer in de States call a safety-balve wot lets off a deal o’ ’uman energy. He was a-sottin on his own safety-balve at de time, so he ought to have know’d suffin about it.”“I say, Ebony,” asked Hockins, “where did you pick up so much larnin’ about science—eh?”“I pick ’im in Texas—was ’sistant to a German nat’ralist dar for two year. Stuck to ’im like a limpit till he a-most busted hisself by tumblin’ into a swamp, smashin’ his spectacles, an’ ketchin’ fever, w’en he found hisself obleeged to go home to recroot—he called it—though what dat was I nebber rightly understood, unless it was drinkin’ brandy an’ water; for I noticed that w’en he said he needed to recroot, he allers had a good stiff pull at de brandy bottle.”Ebony’s discourse was here cut short by the sudden appearance of an enormous butterfly, which the excitable negro dashed after at a breakneck pace in the interests of science. The last glimpse they had of him, as he disappeared among the trees, was in a somewhat peculiar attitude, with his head down and his feet in the air!“That’s a sign he has missed him,” remarked Hockins, beginning to fill his pipe—the tobacco, not the musical, one! “I’ve always observed that when Ebony becomes desperate, and knows he can’t git hold of the thing he’s arter, he makes a reckless plunge, with a horrible yell, goes right down by the head, and disappears like a harpooned whale.”“True, but have you not also observed,” said Mark, “that like the whale he’s sure to come to the surface again—sooner or later—and generally with the object of pursuit in possession?”“I b’lieve you’re right, doctor,” said the seaman, emitting a prolonged puff of smoke.“Does he always go mad like that?” asked the Secretary, who was much amused.“Usually,” replied Mark, “but he is generally madder than that. He’s in comparatively low spirits to-day. Perhaps it is the heat that affects him. Whew! how hot it is! I think I shall take a bath in the first pool we come to.”“That would only make you hotter, sir,” said Hockins. “I’ve often tried it. At first, no doubt, when you gits into the water it cools you, but arter you come out you git hotter than before. Ahotbath is the thing to cool you comfortably.”“But we can’t get a hot bath here,” returned Mark.“You are wrong,” said the Secretary, “we have many natural hot springs in our land. There is one not far from here.”“How far?” asked Mark with some interest.“About two rice-cookings off.”To dispel the reader’s perplexity, we may explain at once that in Madagascar they measure distances by the time occupied in cooking a pot of rice. As that operation occupies about half-an-hour, the Secretary meant that the hot spring was distant about two half-hours—that is, between three and four miles off.“Let’s go an’ git into it at once,” suggested Hockins.“Better wait for Ebony,” said Mark. Then—to the Secretary—“Yours is a very interesting and wonderful country!”“It is, and I wonder not that European nations wish to get possession of it—but that shallneverbe.”Mark replied, “I hope not,” and regarded his friend with some surprise, for he had spoken with emphasis, and evidently strong feeling. “Have you fear that any of the nations wish to have your country?”“Yes, we have fear,” returned the Secretary, with an unwontedly stern look. “They have tried it before; perhaps they will try it again. But they will fail. Has not God given us the land? Has not He moved the hearts of Engleesh men to send to us the Bible? Has not his Holy Spirit inclined our hearts to receive that Word? Yes—it has come. It is planted. Itmustgrow. The European nations cannot hinder it. Ranavalona cannot stamp it out. False friends and open foes cannot crush it. The Word of God will civilise us. We will rise among the nations of the earth when the love of Jesus spreads among us—for that love cures every evil. It inclines as well as teaches us to deny self and do good. It is not possible for man to reach a higher point than that! Deny self! Do good! We are slow to learn, but it issureto come at last, for is it not written that ‘the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea’?”“I believe you are right,” said Mark, much impressed with this outburst and the earnest enthusiasm of his friend’s manner. “And,” he continued, “you have a noble country to work on—full of earth’s riches.”“You say noting but the truth,” answered the Secretary in a gratified tone. “Is not our island as big—or more big—as yours—nearly the same as France? And look around! We have thousands of cattle, tame and wild, with which even now we send large supplies to foreign markets, and fowls innumerable, both wild and tame. Our soil is rich and prolific. Are not our vegetables and fruits innumerable and abundant? Do not immense forests traverse our island in all directions, full of trees that are of value to man—trees fit for building his houses and ships and for making his beautiful furniture, as well as those that supply cocoa-nuts, and figs, and fruits, and gums, and dyes? And have we not the silkworm in plenty, and cotton-plants, and sugar-cane, and many spices, and the great food-supply of our people—rice, besides minerals which make nations rich, such as iron and gold? Yes, we have everything that is desirable and good for man. But we have a climate which does not suit the white man. Yetsomewhite men, like yourself, manage to live here. Is not this a voice, from God? He does not speak to us with the tongue of man, but He speaks with a still, small voice, as easy to understand. He has surrounded our island with unhealthy shores. Does not that tell the white man not to come here? Your London Missionary Society sent us the Bible. God bless them for that! They have done well. But they have done enough. We desire not the interference of England or France in our affairs. We do not want your divisions, your sects. We have the Word. God will do the rest. We want no white nations toprotectus. We want to be let alone to protect and develop ourselves, with the Bible for our guide and the Holy Spirit as our teacher. You Englishmen were savages once, and the Word of God came and raised you. You only continue to be great because the Bible keeps you still in the right path. What it has done for you it will do for us. All we ask for is to be let alone!”The Secretary had become quite excited on this theme, and there is no saying how much longer he might have gone on if Ebony had not returned, scratched, bruised, bleeding, panting and perspiring, but jubilant, with an enormous butterfly captive in his net, and the cause of science advanced.Having secured the specimen, they set off at once to visit the hot springs, after pricking a traveller’s tree with a spear and obtaining a refreshing draught of cool clear water therefrom.Fountains of mineral waters have been found in many, parts of Madagascar, and among them several which are called Rano-mafana, or “warm waters.” These vary both in temperature and medicinal properties. The spot when reached was found to be a small cavity in the rocks which was delightfully shaded by the leaves of the wild fig, and by a number of interwoven and overhanging bamboos. The branches of the fig-trees spread directly across the stream.Hastening to the fountain, Hockins thrust his hand in, but quickly pulled it out again, for the water was only a few degrees below the boiling-point.“Too hot to bathe in!” he said.“But not too hothere,” remarked Ebony, going to a pool a little further from the fountain-head, where the water had cooled somewhat. There the negro dropped his simple garments, and was soon rolling like a black porpoise in his warm bath. It was only large enough for one, but close to it was another small pool big enough for several men. There Mark and Hockins were soon disporting joyously, while the Secretary looked on and laughed. Evidently he did not in the circumstances deem warm water either a necessity or a luxury.That evening, after returning to camp, Mark was summoned to lay the result of his labours before the Queen, who was much interested in his collection of plants, and not a little amused with his collection of insects; for she could understand the use of the medicines which her Court Physician assured her could be extracted from the former, but could see no sense whatever in collecting winged and creeping things, merely to be stuck on pins and looked at and saddled with incomprehensible names! She did indeed except the gorgeous butterflies, and similar creatures, because these were pretty; but on the whole she felt disposed to regard her physician as rather childish in that particular taste.Very different was her opinion of John Hockins. So fond was she of the flageolet of that musical and stalwart tar that she sent for him almost every evening and made him pipe away to her until he almost fell asleep at his duty, so that at last he began to wish that flageolets had never been invented.“It’s nothin’ but blow, blow, blow, day arter day,” he growled as he returned to his tent one night and flung down the little instrument in disgust. “I wish it had bin blow’d up the time your big Roman candle busted, doctor.”“If it had been, your influence with the Queen would have been gone, John.”“Well, I dun-know, sir. Many a queer gale I’ve come through in time past, but this blow beats ’em all to sticks an’ whistles.”“Nebber mind, ’Ockins,” remarked Ebony, who was busy preparing supper at the time, “we’s habbin good times ob it just now. Plenty fun an’ lots ob science! Come—go at your wittles. We’ve hard work besides fun before us demorrow.”Ebony was a true prophet in regard to the hard work, but not as to the fun, of the morrow; for it so happened that two events occurred which threw a dark cloud over the expedition, for some, at least, in the royal procession, and induced the Queen to return to the capital sooner than she had intended.The first of these events was the discovery of a party of sixteen fugitives who were of suspicious character and unable to give account of themselves.They had been discovered by the Queen’s spies hidden in a rice-house. When brought before the officer who examined them, they were at first silent; when pressed, they spoke a little, but nothing of importance could be gathered from them. At last they seemed to make up their minds to acknowledge who they were, for one of them stood forth boldly and said—“Since you ask us again and again, we will tell you. We are not robbers or murderers. We are praying people. If this makes us guilty in the kingdom of the Queen, then, whatsoever she does, we must submit to suffer. We are ready to die for the name of the Lord Jesus.”“Is this, then,” asked the officer, “your final answer, whether for life or death?”“It is our final answer, whether for life or for death.”When this was reported to the Queen, all her anger was stirred up again. She ordered the captives to be chained and sent off at once to Antananarivo. Two of the band managed to escape that night, but the other fourteen were safely lodged in prison.The countenance of Ranavalona was now changed. She took no pleasure in Mark’s collections, and sent no more for the musical seaman. To make matters worse, there came in, on the following day, a report that some of her soldiers had captured a large band of fugitives in a distant part of the country, and were then marching them in chains to the capital. As this band was at the time approaching, the Queen gave orders to halt on an eminence that overlooked the path along which they had to travel, that she might see them.It was about noon when they drew near-worn, weary, and footsore. The Queen was so placed among the bushes that she could see the captives without being herself seen. Her chief officers stood near her. Mark and his companions had taken up a position much nearer to the forest path.First came a band of weary little ones, driven onwards like a flock of sheep, and apparently too much terrified by what they had undergone to make much noise, although most of them were weeping. Next came a group of women. These, like the children, were not bound, but the men, who walked in rear, were chained together—two and two. Soldiers guarded them on every side.“It is profoundly sad!” said Mark, in a deep sorrowful tone. “God help them!”“Massa,” whispered Ebony, “look dar! Sure I knows some ob—”He stopped and opened wide his eyes, for at that moment he recognised Rafaravavy and Ramatoa among the women. With something like a groan, Hockins turned a glance on his comrades and pointed to the men. They required no second glance to enlighten them, for there they plainly saw Ravonino heavily ironed by the neck to Laihova, and Razafil, the poet, chained to the chief, Voalavo. Many others whom they did not know were also there. These all trudged along with bowed heads and eyes on the ground, like men who, having gone through terrible mental and physical agony, have either become callous or resigned to their fate.As the Queen had given orders to her people to keep quiet and out of sight, the poor captives knew nothing of the host that gazed at them. Mark and his friends were so horrified that all power to move or speak failed them for a time. As for Ranavalona, she sat in rigid silence, like a bronze statue, with compressed lips and frowning brows, until they had passed. Then she gave orders to encamp where they stood, and retired in silence to her tent.

One very sultry forenoon Mark and his party—while out botanising, entomologising, philosophising, etcetera, not far from but out of sight of the great procession—came to the brow of a hill and sat down to rest.

Their appearance had become somewhat curious and brigand-like by that time, for their original garments having been worn-out were partially replaced by means of the scissors and needle of John Hockins—at least in the trousers department. That worthy seaman having, during his travels, torn his original trousers to shreds from the knee downwards, had procured some stout canvas in the capital and made for himself another pair. He was, like most sailors, expert at tailoring, and the result was so good that Mark and Ebony became envious. The seaman was obliging. He set to work and made a pair of nether garments for both. Mark wore his pair stuffed into the legs of a pair of Wellington boots procured from a trader. Ebony preferred to cut his off short, just below the knee, thus exposing to view those black boots supplied to negroes by Nature, which have the advantage of never wearing out. Hockins himself stuck to his navy shirt, but the others found striped cotton shirts sufficient. A native straw hat on Mark’s head and a silk scarf round his waist, with a cavalry pistol in it, enhanced the brigand-like aspect of his costume.

This pistol was their only fire-arm, the gun having been broken beyond repair, but each carried a spear in one hand, a gauze butterfly-net in the other, and a basket, in lieu of a specimen-box, on his shoulder. Even the Secretary, entering into the spirit of the thing; carried a net and pursued the butterflies with the ardour of a boy.

“Oh! massa,” exclaimed Ebony, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with a bunch of grass, “Idolub science!”

“Indeed, why so?” asked Mark, sitting down on a bank opposite his friend.

“Why, don’t you see, massa, it’s not comfortabil for a man what’s got any feelin’s to go troo de land huntin’ an’ killin’ cattle an’ oder brutes fornoting. You can’t eat more nor one hox—p’r’aps not dat. So w’en you’ve kill ’im an’ eaten so much as you can, dar’s no more fun, for what fun is dere in slaughterin’ hoxes fornoting? Den, if you goes arter bees an’ butterflies on’y for fun, w’y you git shamed ob yourself. On’y a chile do dat. But science, dat put ’im all right! Away you goes arter de bees and butterflies an’ tings like mad—ober de hills an’ far away—troo de woods, across de ribbers—sometimes into ’em!—crashin’ an’ smashin’ like de bull in de china-shop, wid de proud feelin’ bustin’ your buzzum dat you’re advancin’ de noble cause ob science—dat’s what you call ’im, ‘noble?’—yes. Well, den you come home done up, so pleasant like, an’ sot down an’ fix de critters up wid pins an’ gum an’ sitch-like, and arter dat you show ’em to your larned friends an’ call ’em awrful hard names, (sometimes dey seem likebadnames!) an’—oh! Idolub science! It’s wot I once heard a captin ob a ribber steamer in de States call a safety-balve wot lets off a deal o’ ’uman energy. He was a-sottin on his own safety-balve at de time, so he ought to have know’d suffin about it.”

“I say, Ebony,” asked Hockins, “where did you pick up so much larnin’ about science—eh?”

“I pick ’im in Texas—was ’sistant to a German nat’ralist dar for two year. Stuck to ’im like a limpit till he a-most busted hisself by tumblin’ into a swamp, smashin’ his spectacles, an’ ketchin’ fever, w’en he found hisself obleeged to go home to recroot—he called it—though what dat was I nebber rightly understood, unless it was drinkin’ brandy an’ water; for I noticed that w’en he said he needed to recroot, he allers had a good stiff pull at de brandy bottle.”

Ebony’s discourse was here cut short by the sudden appearance of an enormous butterfly, which the excitable negro dashed after at a breakneck pace in the interests of science. The last glimpse they had of him, as he disappeared among the trees, was in a somewhat peculiar attitude, with his head down and his feet in the air!

“That’s a sign he has missed him,” remarked Hockins, beginning to fill his pipe—the tobacco, not the musical, one! “I’ve always observed that when Ebony becomes desperate, and knows he can’t git hold of the thing he’s arter, he makes a reckless plunge, with a horrible yell, goes right down by the head, and disappears like a harpooned whale.”

“True, but have you not also observed,” said Mark, “that like the whale he’s sure to come to the surface again—sooner or later—and generally with the object of pursuit in possession?”

“I b’lieve you’re right, doctor,” said the seaman, emitting a prolonged puff of smoke.

“Does he always go mad like that?” asked the Secretary, who was much amused.

“Usually,” replied Mark, “but he is generally madder than that. He’s in comparatively low spirits to-day. Perhaps it is the heat that affects him. Whew! how hot it is! I think I shall take a bath in the first pool we come to.”

“That would only make you hotter, sir,” said Hockins. “I’ve often tried it. At first, no doubt, when you gits into the water it cools you, but arter you come out you git hotter than before. Ahotbath is the thing to cool you comfortably.”

“But we can’t get a hot bath here,” returned Mark.

“You are wrong,” said the Secretary, “we have many natural hot springs in our land. There is one not far from here.”

“How far?” asked Mark with some interest.

“About two rice-cookings off.”

To dispel the reader’s perplexity, we may explain at once that in Madagascar they measure distances by the time occupied in cooking a pot of rice. As that operation occupies about half-an-hour, the Secretary meant that the hot spring was distant about two half-hours—that is, between three and four miles off.

“Let’s go an’ git into it at once,” suggested Hockins.

“Better wait for Ebony,” said Mark. Then—to the Secretary—“Yours is a very interesting and wonderful country!”

“It is, and I wonder not that European nations wish to get possession of it—but that shallneverbe.”

Mark replied, “I hope not,” and regarded his friend with some surprise, for he had spoken with emphasis, and evidently strong feeling. “Have you fear that any of the nations wish to have your country?”

“Yes, we have fear,” returned the Secretary, with an unwontedly stern look. “They have tried it before; perhaps they will try it again. But they will fail. Has not God given us the land? Has not He moved the hearts of Engleesh men to send to us the Bible? Has not his Holy Spirit inclined our hearts to receive that Word? Yes—it has come. It is planted. Itmustgrow. The European nations cannot hinder it. Ranavalona cannot stamp it out. False friends and open foes cannot crush it. The Word of God will civilise us. We will rise among the nations of the earth when the love of Jesus spreads among us—for that love cures every evil. It inclines as well as teaches us to deny self and do good. It is not possible for man to reach a higher point than that! Deny self! Do good! We are slow to learn, but it issureto come at last, for is it not written that ‘the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea’?”

“I believe you are right,” said Mark, much impressed with this outburst and the earnest enthusiasm of his friend’s manner. “And,” he continued, “you have a noble country to work on—full of earth’s riches.”

“You say noting but the truth,” answered the Secretary in a gratified tone. “Is not our island as big—or more big—as yours—nearly the same as France? And look around! We have thousands of cattle, tame and wild, with which even now we send large supplies to foreign markets, and fowls innumerable, both wild and tame. Our soil is rich and prolific. Are not our vegetables and fruits innumerable and abundant? Do not immense forests traverse our island in all directions, full of trees that are of value to man—trees fit for building his houses and ships and for making his beautiful furniture, as well as those that supply cocoa-nuts, and figs, and fruits, and gums, and dyes? And have we not the silkworm in plenty, and cotton-plants, and sugar-cane, and many spices, and the great food-supply of our people—rice, besides minerals which make nations rich, such as iron and gold? Yes, we have everything that is desirable and good for man. But we have a climate which does not suit the white man. Yetsomewhite men, like yourself, manage to live here. Is not this a voice, from God? He does not speak to us with the tongue of man, but He speaks with a still, small voice, as easy to understand. He has surrounded our island with unhealthy shores. Does not that tell the white man not to come here? Your London Missionary Society sent us the Bible. God bless them for that! They have done well. But they have done enough. We desire not the interference of England or France in our affairs. We do not want your divisions, your sects. We have the Word. God will do the rest. We want no white nations toprotectus. We want to be let alone to protect and develop ourselves, with the Bible for our guide and the Holy Spirit as our teacher. You Englishmen were savages once, and the Word of God came and raised you. You only continue to be great because the Bible keeps you still in the right path. What it has done for you it will do for us. All we ask for is to be let alone!”

The Secretary had become quite excited on this theme, and there is no saying how much longer he might have gone on if Ebony had not returned, scratched, bruised, bleeding, panting and perspiring, but jubilant, with an enormous butterfly captive in his net, and the cause of science advanced.

Having secured the specimen, they set off at once to visit the hot springs, after pricking a traveller’s tree with a spear and obtaining a refreshing draught of cool clear water therefrom.

Fountains of mineral waters have been found in many, parts of Madagascar, and among them several which are called Rano-mafana, or “warm waters.” These vary both in temperature and medicinal properties. The spot when reached was found to be a small cavity in the rocks which was delightfully shaded by the leaves of the wild fig, and by a number of interwoven and overhanging bamboos. The branches of the fig-trees spread directly across the stream.

Hastening to the fountain, Hockins thrust his hand in, but quickly pulled it out again, for the water was only a few degrees below the boiling-point.

“Too hot to bathe in!” he said.

“But not too hothere,” remarked Ebony, going to a pool a little further from the fountain-head, where the water had cooled somewhat. There the negro dropped his simple garments, and was soon rolling like a black porpoise in his warm bath. It was only large enough for one, but close to it was another small pool big enough for several men. There Mark and Hockins were soon disporting joyously, while the Secretary looked on and laughed. Evidently he did not in the circumstances deem warm water either a necessity or a luxury.

That evening, after returning to camp, Mark was summoned to lay the result of his labours before the Queen, who was much interested in his collection of plants, and not a little amused with his collection of insects; for she could understand the use of the medicines which her Court Physician assured her could be extracted from the former, but could see no sense whatever in collecting winged and creeping things, merely to be stuck on pins and looked at and saddled with incomprehensible names! She did indeed except the gorgeous butterflies, and similar creatures, because these were pretty; but on the whole she felt disposed to regard her physician as rather childish in that particular taste.

Very different was her opinion of John Hockins. So fond was she of the flageolet of that musical and stalwart tar that she sent for him almost every evening and made him pipe away to her until he almost fell asleep at his duty, so that at last he began to wish that flageolets had never been invented.

“It’s nothin’ but blow, blow, blow, day arter day,” he growled as he returned to his tent one night and flung down the little instrument in disgust. “I wish it had bin blow’d up the time your big Roman candle busted, doctor.”

“If it had been, your influence with the Queen would have been gone, John.”

“Well, I dun-know, sir. Many a queer gale I’ve come through in time past, but this blow beats ’em all to sticks an’ whistles.”

“Nebber mind, ’Ockins,” remarked Ebony, who was busy preparing supper at the time, “we’s habbin good times ob it just now. Plenty fun an’ lots ob science! Come—go at your wittles. We’ve hard work besides fun before us demorrow.”

Ebony was a true prophet in regard to the hard work, but not as to the fun, of the morrow; for it so happened that two events occurred which threw a dark cloud over the expedition, for some, at least, in the royal procession, and induced the Queen to return to the capital sooner than she had intended.

The first of these events was the discovery of a party of sixteen fugitives who were of suspicious character and unable to give account of themselves.

They had been discovered by the Queen’s spies hidden in a rice-house. When brought before the officer who examined them, they were at first silent; when pressed, they spoke a little, but nothing of importance could be gathered from them. At last they seemed to make up their minds to acknowledge who they were, for one of them stood forth boldly and said—

“Since you ask us again and again, we will tell you. We are not robbers or murderers. We are praying people. If this makes us guilty in the kingdom of the Queen, then, whatsoever she does, we must submit to suffer. We are ready to die for the name of the Lord Jesus.”

“Is this, then,” asked the officer, “your final answer, whether for life or death?”

“It is our final answer, whether for life or for death.”

When this was reported to the Queen, all her anger was stirred up again. She ordered the captives to be chained and sent off at once to Antananarivo. Two of the band managed to escape that night, but the other fourteen were safely lodged in prison.

The countenance of Ranavalona was now changed. She took no pleasure in Mark’s collections, and sent no more for the musical seaman. To make matters worse, there came in, on the following day, a report that some of her soldiers had captured a large band of fugitives in a distant part of the country, and were then marching them in chains to the capital. As this band was at the time approaching, the Queen gave orders to halt on an eminence that overlooked the path along which they had to travel, that she might see them.

It was about noon when they drew near-worn, weary, and footsore. The Queen was so placed among the bushes that she could see the captives without being herself seen. Her chief officers stood near her. Mark and his companions had taken up a position much nearer to the forest path.

First came a band of weary little ones, driven onwards like a flock of sheep, and apparently too much terrified by what they had undergone to make much noise, although most of them were weeping. Next came a group of women. These, like the children, were not bound, but the men, who walked in rear, were chained together—two and two. Soldiers guarded them on every side.

“It is profoundly sad!” said Mark, in a deep sorrowful tone. “God help them!”

“Massa,” whispered Ebony, “look dar! Sure I knows some ob—”

He stopped and opened wide his eyes, for at that moment he recognised Rafaravavy and Ramatoa among the women. With something like a groan, Hockins turned a glance on his comrades and pointed to the men. They required no second glance to enlighten them, for there they plainly saw Ravonino heavily ironed by the neck to Laihova, and Razafil, the poet, chained to the chief, Voalavo. Many others whom they did not know were also there. These all trudged along with bowed heads and eyes on the ground, like men who, having gone through terrible mental and physical agony, have either become callous or resigned to their fate.

As the Queen had given orders to her people to keep quiet and out of sight, the poor captives knew nothing of the host that gazed at them. Mark and his friends were so horrified that all power to move or speak failed them for a time. As for Ranavalona, she sat in rigid silence, like a bronze statue, with compressed lips and frowning brows, until they had passed. Then she gave orders to encamp where they stood, and retired in silence to her tent.

Chapter Twenty Eight.In which Terrible but True Martyrdoms are Described.Matters had now reached a crisis. Although suffering from illness—partly brought on, or aggravated, by her unrestrained passions—the Queen gave orders next day for the host to turn homeward. Travelling more rapidly than she had yet done, she soon reached the capital.There the arrival of the captives and the news of what had occurred prepared them for the worst. And the worst was not long of coming. The very day following the Queen’s return, a great assembly, or Kabàry, of the whole people was called. None were exempted from the meeting. High and low, rich and poor, sick and healthy, were driven to the great place of assembly near the palace—literally driven, for officers were sent as usual to break into the houses of the people, when necessary, and force them to attend. And there was no way of escape, for at the time of the summons being sent out every outlet from the city was guarded by soldiers, and the cannon along the heights thundered a salute by way of striking terror into the hearts of the rebellious. Well did the poor people know what all this foreshadowed. One who was an eye-witness of the scene said, “there was a general howling and wailing, a rushing and running through the streets, as if the town had been attacked by a hostile army.” At last the great square of the city was crowded, as full as it could hold, with hundreds of thousands of people, who were overawed by the presence of a body of troops fifteen thousand strong as they awaited the announcement of the Queen’s pleasure.Mark Breezy was there, along with his comrades, on an elevated spot near to the place where the Queen’s messenger was to make the proclamation.“We are utterly helpless here,” said Mark in a low voice, as he gazed in pity on the groaning and swaying multitude. “The Queen’s countenance is changed to me. I feel sure that either we have been betrayed in the matter of Rafaravavy, or we are suspected. Indeed, if it were not that she is ill, and needs my aid, she would certainly banish us all from her dominions.”“I wish I was well out of ’em,” growled Hockins. “The country is well enough, no doubt, but a woman like that makes it a hell-upon-earth!”“Has you hear, massa, whar dey hab put Ravonino an’ our oder friends?” asked Ebony.“No, I did not dare to ask. And even if we knew we could do nothing!”The youth spoke bitterly, for he had become so much attached to their former guide, and the natives with whom they had sojourned and travelled, that he would have fought for them to the death if that could have availed them. Strong and active young men are apt to become bitter when they find that superabundant energy and physical force are in some circumstances utterly useless. To be compelled to stand by inactive and see injustice done—cruelty and death dealt out, while the blood boils, the nerves quiver, and the violated feelings revolt, is a sore trial to manhood! And such was the position of our three adventurers at that time.Presently the highest civil and military officers came forth, one of whom, in a loud sonorous voice, delivered the message of his terrible mistress.After a number of complimentary and adulatory phrases to the Queen herself, and many ceremonial bowings towards the palace, as if she actually heard him, the messenger spoke as follows—“I announce to you, O people, that I am not a Sovereign that deceives. I find that, in spite of my commands, many of my people revile the idols and treat divination as a trifle, and worship the Christians’ God, and pray, and baptize, and sing—which things I abhor. They are unlawful. I detest them, and they are not to be done, saith Ranavàlo-Manjàka. I will not suffer it. Those who dare to disobey my commands shall die. Now, I order that all who are guilty shall come in classes according to their offences, and accuse themselves of being baptized, of being members of the Church, of having taught slaves to read, and that all books shall be given up.”As on a previous occasion, many came forward at once and accused themselves, or gave up their Bibles and Testaments; but, as before, others concealed their treasures and held their tongue, although it was evident that on this occasion the Queen uttered no vain threat, but was terribly in earnest.The proclamation ended, the people dispersed, and Mark and his friends were returning to their quarters when they were arrested by a party of soldiers. As usual, their first impulse was to resist violently, but wisdom was given them in time, and they went quietly along. Of course Mark protested vehemently both in English and in broken Malagasy, but no attention whatever was paid to his words. They were led to a prison which they had not before seen. As they approached the door the sound of singing was heard. Another moment and they were thrust into the room whence the sounds issued, and the door was locked upon them.At first they could only see dimly, the place was so dark; but in a few seconds, their eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom, they could see that a number of other prisoners—both men and women—were seated round the walls singing a hymn. When the hymn ceased an exclamation from a familiar voice made them turn round, and there they saw their friend Ravonino seated on the floor with his back against the wall and chained to Laihova and to the floor. Beside him were several well-remembered natives, and on the opposite side of the room, also chained, were the women of the party, among whom were Ramatoa, Ra-Ruth, Rafaravavy, her maid Sarah, and the poor mother of Mamba.“Ravonino!” exclaimed Mark, in tones of profound sorrow, as he sat down beside his old guide, “I little thought to find you in such a strait.”“Even so, sir,” returned the man in a gentle voice, “for so it seems good in His eyes! But still less did I expect to find you in prison—for the way they thrust you in shows me that you are no mere visitor. I fear me, the cruel woman has found out how kind you were in helping me.”“But surely dar some hope for you! Dey nebber kill you all!” said the negro, waving his hand round as if to indicate the whole party.“No hope, no hope,” returned Ravonino, sadly, “Not even for you, Ebony, because you are only a black man. But they won’t killyou, sir, or Hockins. They know better than to risk the consequences of putting a British subject to death. For the rest of us—our doom is sealed.”“If the Lord wills it so,” remarked Laihova, quietly.“How do you know that the Lord wills it so?” demanded a voice fiercely, and a man who had hitherto sat still with his face buried in his hands looked up. It was the stout chief Voalavo, all whose fun of disposition seemed to have been turned to fury. “You all speak as if you were already dead men! Are we not alive? Have we not stout hearts and strong limbs? While life remains there is hope!”He leaped up as he spoke and began to wrench at his chain like a maddened tiger, until blood spurted from his wrists and the swollen veins stood out like cords from his neck and forehead. But iron proved tougher than flesh. He sank down, exhausted, with a deep groan—yet even in his agony of rage the strong man murmured as he fell, “Lord forgive me!”While the men conversed, and Ebony sought to soothe Voalavo, with whom he had strong sympathy most of the poor women opposite were seated in a state of quiet resignation. Some there were, however, who could not bring their minds to contemplate with calmness the horrible fate that they knew too well awaited them, while others seemed to forget themselves in their desire to comfort their companions. Among the timid ones was pretty little Ra-Ruth. Perhaps her vivid imagination enabled her to realise more powerfully the terrors of martyrdom. It may be that her delicately-strung nerves shrank more sensitively from the prospect, but in spite of her utmost efforts to be brave she trembled violently and was pale as death. Yet she did not murmur, she only laid her head on the sympathetic bosom of her queen-like friend Ramatoa, who seemed to her a miracle of strength and resignation.In a short time the door of the prison opened, and a party of armed men entered with Silver Spear, or Hater of Lies, at their head. An involuntary shudder ran through the group of captives as the man advanced and looked round.“Which is Razafil?” demanded Hater of Lies.The poet rose promptly. “Here I am,” he said, looking boldly at the officer. Then, glancing upwards, and in a voice of extreme tenderness, he said, “Now, my sweet Raniva, I will soon join you!”“Ramatoa—which is she?” said the officer, as his men removed the fetters from the poet and fastened his wrists with a cord.Ramatoa at once rose up. “I am ready,” she said, calmly. “Now, Ra-Ruth, the Master calls me. Fear not what man can do unto thee.”“Oh! no, no! do not go yet,” exclaimed Ra-Ruth in an agony of grief, as she clung to her friend. “The good Lord cannot mean this—oh! takeme! takeme! and let her stay!”The sentence ended in a low wail, for at the moment two soldiers forced the girls asunder, and Ra-Ruth sank upon the floor, while Ramatoa was led away.Poor Laihova had watched every movement of Ra-Ruth. It was, no doubt, the fiercest part of the fiery trial he had to undergo; and when the soldier grasped her arms to tear her from her friend he could restrain himself no longer. He sprang up and made a wild leap towards her, but the chain arrested him effectually, and three bayonets were quickly pointed at his breast. His head fell forward, and he sank down like one who had been shot.Meanwhile Hater of Lies selected Ra-Ruth and twelve others from the group of prisoners, but only the three whom we have mentioned are known to the reader. They were led into an outer room, where they were further pinioned. Some of them had their feet and hands tied together, so that, by thrusting a pole between the legs and arms of each, they could be suspended and carried by two men. Others were allowed to walk to the place of execution. The rage of Ranavalona, however, was so great on finding that the Christians would not submit to her that she had given orders to the soldiers to torture the martyrs with their spears as they marched along the road. This was done to all except Ramatoa and Ra-Ruth, as the blood-stained road bore witness. The comfort of being together was not allowed to the two ladies. They were placed in different parts of the procession.Mats were thrust into the mouths of the suspended victims to prevent them from speaking, but some of them managed to free their mouths and prayed aloud, while others sang hymns or addressed the crowd. Thus they passed along the road that led to the Place of Hurling Down.This was a tremendous precipice of granite, 150 feet high. Thither the multitude streamed—some influenced by hatred of the Christians, some by deep sympathy with them, but the majority, doubtless, prompted by mere excitement and curiosity. And there they crowded as near as they dared venture to the edge of the precipice and gazed into the awful gulf.Slowly the procession moved, as if to prolong the agony of the martyrs. Suddenly a young man pushed through the crowd, advanced to the side of Ramatoa, and grasped one of her hands, exclaiming in a loud voice, “Dearest! I will go with you and stay by you to the end.”For a moment the calm serenity that had settled on the girl’s fine countenance was disturbed.“Mamba!” she said, “this is not wise. You cannot save me. It is God’s will that I should now glorify the dear name of Jesus by laying down my life. But you are not yet condemned, and your mother needs your help.”“Full well do I know that,” returned the youth, fervently. “Were it not for my dear mother’s love and claim on me, I would now have gone with you to heaven. As it is, I will stay by you, dear one, to the end.”“Thank you, dear friend,” returned the girl, earnestly. “I think it will not be long till we meet where there are no more sufferings or tears.”Soon the procession reached the brow of the terrible cliff. Here the martyrs were ranged in such a way that, while they were cast over one by one, the rest could see their companions fall.The first to perish was the poet Razafil. After the Queen’s messenger had pronounced the sentence of each, the poor man was seized and thrown violently on the ground. A rope was then fastened round his waist, and he was asked if he would cease to pray in the name of Jesus.“Cease to pray to Jesus!” he exclaimed, while the fire of enthusiasm gleamed in his eyes—“to Jesus who saved my Raniva, and who holds out His blessed hands to me—even me—to take me to Himself?Never!”Razafil was instantly slung over the precipice, and held suspended there in the hope that the awful nature of his impending fate might cause his courage to fail, while the executioner knelt, knife in hand, ready to cut the rope.“Once more, and for the last time,” said the officer in command, “will you cease to pray?”The answer was an emphatic “No!”Next moment Razafil went shooting down headlong into the abyss. There was a projecting ledge of rock about fifty feet down the precipice. On this the body of the martyr struck, and, bounding off into space, reached the bottom with incredible violence, a shattered and mangled heap.With trembling hearts and straining gaze the other victims watched the descent. It seemed to be more than human nature could endure to voluntarily face such a fate when a word would deliver them. So thought many of the spectators, and they were right; mere human nature could not have endured it, but these Christians were strengthened in a way that the ungodly will neither believe nor understand. One by one they were led to the edge of the cliff, suspended over the edge, and had the testing-question put to them, and, one by one, the answer was a decisive “No!”But where was the tyrant Queen while this scene of butchery was being enacted? In her chamber in the palace—comparatively, yet not altogether, regardless of the matter.Her son Rakota stood beside her. Our friend the Secretary stood at the door.“Mother,” said the Prince, quietly, “they are being hurled down now—and little Ra-Ruth is among them.”The Queen looked up, startled. “No, no!” she said, hesitatingly. “Ra-Ruth must not—but—but—I must not seem to my people to be weak—yet I would save her.”Rakota gave a gentle nod to the Secretary, who instantly vanished. He reached the place of execution only just in time. The rope was already round the girl’s slender waist, and the testing-question had been put—but her timidity had flown, and was replaced by a calm, almost angelic, expression, as she gazed up to Heaven, clasped her hands, and, with a flush of enthusiasm, exclaimed—“No—Jesus—no, I willnevercease to worship Thee!”A murmur of mingled surprise and pity broke from the crowd. At that moment the Secretary came forward.“The Queen,” he said, “has sent me to ask you, Ra-Ruth, whether you will not worship our gods and save your life.”“No,” answered the girl, firmly. “I have been weak—a coward—but now God has sent me strength by His own Holy Spirit, and my fixed determination is to go this day with my dear brothers and sisters to Heaven.”“You are a fool! You aremad!” exclaimed an officer standing by, as he struck her on the head.“Yes, she ismad,” said the Secretary to the officer in command. “Send a messenger to tell the Queen that Ra-Ruth has lost her reason. Meanwhile, let her be taken away and guarded well till the Queen’s pleasure regarding her is known.”But although this poor girl was thus snatched from death at the last moment, no mercy was extended to the others. All were thrown over the cliff and dashed to pieces at that time except Ramatoa. When the question was put to her, last of all, she, as might have been expected, was not less firm in her reply than her companions; but, instead of being thrown over, she was informed that as it was not allowable to shed the blood of one of noble birth she was to be burnt alive!At this dreadful announcement she turned paler than before, but did not flinch. At the same moment poor Mamba lost control of himself. He sprang to her side, put an arm round her waist, and shouted—“This shall not be! I, too, am a praying man. Ye shall not touch her!”He glared fiercely round, and, for a moment, the soldiers did not dare to approach him, although he was totally unarmed. But they sprang on him from behind, and he was quickly overpowered by numbers. At the command of their officer, they tore him from Ramatoa, carried him to the cliff, and hurled him over. His head struck the ledge, and his brains were dashed out there. Next moment he lay dead among the rocks at the bottom.This awful sight Ramatoa was spared, for, at the same instant, they had dragged her away to the spot where a pile of wood had been prepared for herself. Four stakes were fixed in the midst of the pile, as three other Christian nobles were to be burnt along with her, one of whom was a lady. While Ramatoa watched the preparations for her death, her fellow-sufferers arrived—singing, as they walked, a hymn which begins with, “When our hearts are troubled,” and ends with, “Then remember us.” Ramatoa raised her voice and joined them. There was no wavering or shrinking from the fiery ordeal. When all was ready the martyrs quietly suffered themselves to be bound to the stakes, and, strange to say, when the flames roared around them, the song of praise still went on, and the voices of praise and prayer did not cease until they had culminated in glad shouts of praise and victory before the throne of God!We write facts just now, reader, not fiction! Men talk of the cruelty of devils! Assuredly there is not a devil in or out of hell who can sink to lower depths of cruelty than fallen man will sink to when left to the unrestrained influence of that hateful thing—sin—from which Jesus Christ came to deliver us, blessed beHisname!It is said that while these four martyrs were being fastened to the stakes, an immense triple-arched rainbow stretched across the heavens, one end of which appeared to rest upon them, and that rain fell in torrents. This so terrified many of the spectators, that they fled in consternation from the scene.But the cup of iniquity was not yet filled up. While the martyrs were still in the fire, and praying, “O Lord, receive our spirits, and lay not this sin to their charge,” a shouting yelling band arrived, dragging after them the corpses of the men and women who had perished at the Place of Hurling Down. These were tossed upon the pile to serve as fuel to the fire. The poor unrecognisable remains of Mamba were among them; and thus, even in their death, he and Ramatoa were not divided!At this time of terrible suffering and trial—as in the previous persecutions during the reign of this tyrant queen—hundreds of Christians willingly submitted to the loss of position, wealth, and liberty for the sake of Jesus, besides those who witnessed a good confession, and sealed their testimony with their blood. Thirty-seven native preachers, with their wives and families, were consigned to a life of slavery. More than a hundred men and women were flogged and sentenced to work in chains during their lives. Some were heavily fined, and many among the “great and noble” were stripped of honours and titles, reduced to the ranks, and forced to labour at the hardest and most menial occupation.Among these last was Prince Ramonja, who had been the means of sheltering, secreting, and saving many Christians. Fortunately Prince Rakota retained his influence over his mother, and his power to do good—a circumstance for which our three adventurers had ultimately reason to thank God, though, for a considerable time after that, they remained in prison, in company with their friends Ravonino, Voalavo, Laihova, and others.These last were not delivered from their chains, but lived in hourly expectation of being led out to execution. After Ra-Ruth’s removal, Laihova was at first overwhelmed with despair, but when a friendly jailor informed him of her having been spared under the supposition that she was insane, hope revived a little, though he could not help seeing that the prospect ahead was still very black.Another prisoner who was inconsolable was poor Reni-Mamba. From the time that she was told of her son’s fate she seemed to sink into a state of quiet imbecility, from which no efforts of her friends could rouse her. She did not murmur or complain. She simply sat silent and callous to everything around her. She, Rafaravavy, Sarah, and the other females, were removed to another prison, and for a long time their male friends could learn nothing as to their fate.“It is this prolonged uncertainty that’s so hard to bear,” remarked Ravonino to Mark one day, lifting his hands high above his head, and letting them fall, with the clanking chains, into his lap.“True, true,” replied the youth, shortly—for confinement was beginning to tell unfavourably on himself.“Das w’ere it is,” remarked Ebony, endeavouring to brighten up a little, but with only moderate success, “it’s sottin still an’ doin’ nuffin dat kills. What you tink, ’Ockins?”“Ay, ay,” assented the seaman; and as for a long time nothing more than “ay, ay,” had been got out of Hockins, Ebony relapsed into silence.Things had reached this lugubrious pass when an event occurred which materially affected the condition of the prisoners, and considerably altered the history of Madagascar.

Matters had now reached a crisis. Although suffering from illness—partly brought on, or aggravated, by her unrestrained passions—the Queen gave orders next day for the host to turn homeward. Travelling more rapidly than she had yet done, she soon reached the capital.

There the arrival of the captives and the news of what had occurred prepared them for the worst. And the worst was not long of coming. The very day following the Queen’s return, a great assembly, or Kabàry, of the whole people was called. None were exempted from the meeting. High and low, rich and poor, sick and healthy, were driven to the great place of assembly near the palace—literally driven, for officers were sent as usual to break into the houses of the people, when necessary, and force them to attend. And there was no way of escape, for at the time of the summons being sent out every outlet from the city was guarded by soldiers, and the cannon along the heights thundered a salute by way of striking terror into the hearts of the rebellious. Well did the poor people know what all this foreshadowed. One who was an eye-witness of the scene said, “there was a general howling and wailing, a rushing and running through the streets, as if the town had been attacked by a hostile army.” At last the great square of the city was crowded, as full as it could hold, with hundreds of thousands of people, who were overawed by the presence of a body of troops fifteen thousand strong as they awaited the announcement of the Queen’s pleasure.

Mark Breezy was there, along with his comrades, on an elevated spot near to the place where the Queen’s messenger was to make the proclamation.

“We are utterly helpless here,” said Mark in a low voice, as he gazed in pity on the groaning and swaying multitude. “The Queen’s countenance is changed to me. I feel sure that either we have been betrayed in the matter of Rafaravavy, or we are suspected. Indeed, if it were not that she is ill, and needs my aid, she would certainly banish us all from her dominions.”

“I wish I was well out of ’em,” growled Hockins. “The country is well enough, no doubt, but a woman like that makes it a hell-upon-earth!”

“Has you hear, massa, whar dey hab put Ravonino an’ our oder friends?” asked Ebony.

“No, I did not dare to ask. And even if we knew we could do nothing!”

The youth spoke bitterly, for he had become so much attached to their former guide, and the natives with whom they had sojourned and travelled, that he would have fought for them to the death if that could have availed them. Strong and active young men are apt to become bitter when they find that superabundant energy and physical force are in some circumstances utterly useless. To be compelled to stand by inactive and see injustice done—cruelty and death dealt out, while the blood boils, the nerves quiver, and the violated feelings revolt, is a sore trial to manhood! And such was the position of our three adventurers at that time.

Presently the highest civil and military officers came forth, one of whom, in a loud sonorous voice, delivered the message of his terrible mistress.

After a number of complimentary and adulatory phrases to the Queen herself, and many ceremonial bowings towards the palace, as if she actually heard him, the messenger spoke as follows—

“I announce to you, O people, that I am not a Sovereign that deceives. I find that, in spite of my commands, many of my people revile the idols and treat divination as a trifle, and worship the Christians’ God, and pray, and baptize, and sing—which things I abhor. They are unlawful. I detest them, and they are not to be done, saith Ranavàlo-Manjàka. I will not suffer it. Those who dare to disobey my commands shall die. Now, I order that all who are guilty shall come in classes according to their offences, and accuse themselves of being baptized, of being members of the Church, of having taught slaves to read, and that all books shall be given up.”

As on a previous occasion, many came forward at once and accused themselves, or gave up their Bibles and Testaments; but, as before, others concealed their treasures and held their tongue, although it was evident that on this occasion the Queen uttered no vain threat, but was terribly in earnest.

The proclamation ended, the people dispersed, and Mark and his friends were returning to their quarters when they were arrested by a party of soldiers. As usual, their first impulse was to resist violently, but wisdom was given them in time, and they went quietly along. Of course Mark protested vehemently both in English and in broken Malagasy, but no attention whatever was paid to his words. They were led to a prison which they had not before seen. As they approached the door the sound of singing was heard. Another moment and they were thrust into the room whence the sounds issued, and the door was locked upon them.

At first they could only see dimly, the place was so dark; but in a few seconds, their eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom, they could see that a number of other prisoners—both men and women—were seated round the walls singing a hymn. When the hymn ceased an exclamation from a familiar voice made them turn round, and there they saw their friend Ravonino seated on the floor with his back against the wall and chained to Laihova and to the floor. Beside him were several well-remembered natives, and on the opposite side of the room, also chained, were the women of the party, among whom were Ramatoa, Ra-Ruth, Rafaravavy, her maid Sarah, and the poor mother of Mamba.

“Ravonino!” exclaimed Mark, in tones of profound sorrow, as he sat down beside his old guide, “I little thought to find you in such a strait.”

“Even so, sir,” returned the man in a gentle voice, “for so it seems good in His eyes! But still less did I expect to find you in prison—for the way they thrust you in shows me that you are no mere visitor. I fear me, the cruel woman has found out how kind you were in helping me.”

“But surely dar some hope for you! Dey nebber kill you all!” said the negro, waving his hand round as if to indicate the whole party.

“No hope, no hope,” returned Ravonino, sadly, “Not even for you, Ebony, because you are only a black man. But they won’t killyou, sir, or Hockins. They know better than to risk the consequences of putting a British subject to death. For the rest of us—our doom is sealed.”

“If the Lord wills it so,” remarked Laihova, quietly.

“How do you know that the Lord wills it so?” demanded a voice fiercely, and a man who had hitherto sat still with his face buried in his hands looked up. It was the stout chief Voalavo, all whose fun of disposition seemed to have been turned to fury. “You all speak as if you were already dead men! Are we not alive? Have we not stout hearts and strong limbs? While life remains there is hope!”

He leaped up as he spoke and began to wrench at his chain like a maddened tiger, until blood spurted from his wrists and the swollen veins stood out like cords from his neck and forehead. But iron proved tougher than flesh. He sank down, exhausted, with a deep groan—yet even in his agony of rage the strong man murmured as he fell, “Lord forgive me!”

While the men conversed, and Ebony sought to soothe Voalavo, with whom he had strong sympathy most of the poor women opposite were seated in a state of quiet resignation. Some there were, however, who could not bring their minds to contemplate with calmness the horrible fate that they knew too well awaited them, while others seemed to forget themselves in their desire to comfort their companions. Among the timid ones was pretty little Ra-Ruth. Perhaps her vivid imagination enabled her to realise more powerfully the terrors of martyrdom. It may be that her delicately-strung nerves shrank more sensitively from the prospect, but in spite of her utmost efforts to be brave she trembled violently and was pale as death. Yet she did not murmur, she only laid her head on the sympathetic bosom of her queen-like friend Ramatoa, who seemed to her a miracle of strength and resignation.

In a short time the door of the prison opened, and a party of armed men entered with Silver Spear, or Hater of Lies, at their head. An involuntary shudder ran through the group of captives as the man advanced and looked round.

“Which is Razafil?” demanded Hater of Lies.

The poet rose promptly. “Here I am,” he said, looking boldly at the officer. Then, glancing upwards, and in a voice of extreme tenderness, he said, “Now, my sweet Raniva, I will soon join you!”

“Ramatoa—which is she?” said the officer, as his men removed the fetters from the poet and fastened his wrists with a cord.

Ramatoa at once rose up. “I am ready,” she said, calmly. “Now, Ra-Ruth, the Master calls me. Fear not what man can do unto thee.”

“Oh! no, no! do not go yet,” exclaimed Ra-Ruth in an agony of grief, as she clung to her friend. “The good Lord cannot mean this—oh! takeme! takeme! and let her stay!”

The sentence ended in a low wail, for at the moment two soldiers forced the girls asunder, and Ra-Ruth sank upon the floor, while Ramatoa was led away.

Poor Laihova had watched every movement of Ra-Ruth. It was, no doubt, the fiercest part of the fiery trial he had to undergo; and when the soldier grasped her arms to tear her from her friend he could restrain himself no longer. He sprang up and made a wild leap towards her, but the chain arrested him effectually, and three bayonets were quickly pointed at his breast. His head fell forward, and he sank down like one who had been shot.

Meanwhile Hater of Lies selected Ra-Ruth and twelve others from the group of prisoners, but only the three whom we have mentioned are known to the reader. They were led into an outer room, where they were further pinioned. Some of them had their feet and hands tied together, so that, by thrusting a pole between the legs and arms of each, they could be suspended and carried by two men. Others were allowed to walk to the place of execution. The rage of Ranavalona, however, was so great on finding that the Christians would not submit to her that she had given orders to the soldiers to torture the martyrs with their spears as they marched along the road. This was done to all except Ramatoa and Ra-Ruth, as the blood-stained road bore witness. The comfort of being together was not allowed to the two ladies. They were placed in different parts of the procession.

Mats were thrust into the mouths of the suspended victims to prevent them from speaking, but some of them managed to free their mouths and prayed aloud, while others sang hymns or addressed the crowd. Thus they passed along the road that led to the Place of Hurling Down.

This was a tremendous precipice of granite, 150 feet high. Thither the multitude streamed—some influenced by hatred of the Christians, some by deep sympathy with them, but the majority, doubtless, prompted by mere excitement and curiosity. And there they crowded as near as they dared venture to the edge of the precipice and gazed into the awful gulf.

Slowly the procession moved, as if to prolong the agony of the martyrs. Suddenly a young man pushed through the crowd, advanced to the side of Ramatoa, and grasped one of her hands, exclaiming in a loud voice, “Dearest! I will go with you and stay by you to the end.”

For a moment the calm serenity that had settled on the girl’s fine countenance was disturbed.

“Mamba!” she said, “this is not wise. You cannot save me. It is God’s will that I should now glorify the dear name of Jesus by laying down my life. But you are not yet condemned, and your mother needs your help.”

“Full well do I know that,” returned the youth, fervently. “Were it not for my dear mother’s love and claim on me, I would now have gone with you to heaven. As it is, I will stay by you, dear one, to the end.”

“Thank you, dear friend,” returned the girl, earnestly. “I think it will not be long till we meet where there are no more sufferings or tears.”

Soon the procession reached the brow of the terrible cliff. Here the martyrs were ranged in such a way that, while they were cast over one by one, the rest could see their companions fall.

The first to perish was the poet Razafil. After the Queen’s messenger had pronounced the sentence of each, the poor man was seized and thrown violently on the ground. A rope was then fastened round his waist, and he was asked if he would cease to pray in the name of Jesus.

“Cease to pray to Jesus!” he exclaimed, while the fire of enthusiasm gleamed in his eyes—“to Jesus who saved my Raniva, and who holds out His blessed hands to me—even me—to take me to Himself?Never!”

Razafil was instantly slung over the precipice, and held suspended there in the hope that the awful nature of his impending fate might cause his courage to fail, while the executioner knelt, knife in hand, ready to cut the rope.

“Once more, and for the last time,” said the officer in command, “will you cease to pray?”

The answer was an emphatic “No!”

Next moment Razafil went shooting down headlong into the abyss. There was a projecting ledge of rock about fifty feet down the precipice. On this the body of the martyr struck, and, bounding off into space, reached the bottom with incredible violence, a shattered and mangled heap.

With trembling hearts and straining gaze the other victims watched the descent. It seemed to be more than human nature could endure to voluntarily face such a fate when a word would deliver them. So thought many of the spectators, and they were right; mere human nature could not have endured it, but these Christians were strengthened in a way that the ungodly will neither believe nor understand. One by one they were led to the edge of the cliff, suspended over the edge, and had the testing-question put to them, and, one by one, the answer was a decisive “No!”

But where was the tyrant Queen while this scene of butchery was being enacted? In her chamber in the palace—comparatively, yet not altogether, regardless of the matter.

Her son Rakota stood beside her. Our friend the Secretary stood at the door.

“Mother,” said the Prince, quietly, “they are being hurled down now—and little Ra-Ruth is among them.”

The Queen looked up, startled. “No, no!” she said, hesitatingly. “Ra-Ruth must not—but—but—I must not seem to my people to be weak—yet I would save her.”

Rakota gave a gentle nod to the Secretary, who instantly vanished. He reached the place of execution only just in time. The rope was already round the girl’s slender waist, and the testing-question had been put—but her timidity had flown, and was replaced by a calm, almost angelic, expression, as she gazed up to Heaven, clasped her hands, and, with a flush of enthusiasm, exclaimed—

“No—Jesus—no, I willnevercease to worship Thee!”

A murmur of mingled surprise and pity broke from the crowd. At that moment the Secretary came forward.

“The Queen,” he said, “has sent me to ask you, Ra-Ruth, whether you will not worship our gods and save your life.”

“No,” answered the girl, firmly. “I have been weak—a coward—but now God has sent me strength by His own Holy Spirit, and my fixed determination is to go this day with my dear brothers and sisters to Heaven.”

“You are a fool! You aremad!” exclaimed an officer standing by, as he struck her on the head.

“Yes, she ismad,” said the Secretary to the officer in command. “Send a messenger to tell the Queen that Ra-Ruth has lost her reason. Meanwhile, let her be taken away and guarded well till the Queen’s pleasure regarding her is known.”

But although this poor girl was thus snatched from death at the last moment, no mercy was extended to the others. All were thrown over the cliff and dashed to pieces at that time except Ramatoa. When the question was put to her, last of all, she, as might have been expected, was not less firm in her reply than her companions; but, instead of being thrown over, she was informed that as it was not allowable to shed the blood of one of noble birth she was to be burnt alive!

At this dreadful announcement she turned paler than before, but did not flinch. At the same moment poor Mamba lost control of himself. He sprang to her side, put an arm round her waist, and shouted—

“This shall not be! I, too, am a praying man. Ye shall not touch her!”

He glared fiercely round, and, for a moment, the soldiers did not dare to approach him, although he was totally unarmed. But they sprang on him from behind, and he was quickly overpowered by numbers. At the command of their officer, they tore him from Ramatoa, carried him to the cliff, and hurled him over. His head struck the ledge, and his brains were dashed out there. Next moment he lay dead among the rocks at the bottom.

This awful sight Ramatoa was spared, for, at the same instant, they had dragged her away to the spot where a pile of wood had been prepared for herself. Four stakes were fixed in the midst of the pile, as three other Christian nobles were to be burnt along with her, one of whom was a lady. While Ramatoa watched the preparations for her death, her fellow-sufferers arrived—singing, as they walked, a hymn which begins with, “When our hearts are troubled,” and ends with, “Then remember us.” Ramatoa raised her voice and joined them. There was no wavering or shrinking from the fiery ordeal. When all was ready the martyrs quietly suffered themselves to be bound to the stakes, and, strange to say, when the flames roared around them, the song of praise still went on, and the voices of praise and prayer did not cease until they had culminated in glad shouts of praise and victory before the throne of God!

We write facts just now, reader, not fiction! Men talk of the cruelty of devils! Assuredly there is not a devil in or out of hell who can sink to lower depths of cruelty than fallen man will sink to when left to the unrestrained influence of that hateful thing—sin—from which Jesus Christ came to deliver us, blessed beHisname!

It is said that while these four martyrs were being fastened to the stakes, an immense triple-arched rainbow stretched across the heavens, one end of which appeared to rest upon them, and that rain fell in torrents. This so terrified many of the spectators, that they fled in consternation from the scene.

But the cup of iniquity was not yet filled up. While the martyrs were still in the fire, and praying, “O Lord, receive our spirits, and lay not this sin to their charge,” a shouting yelling band arrived, dragging after them the corpses of the men and women who had perished at the Place of Hurling Down. These were tossed upon the pile to serve as fuel to the fire. The poor unrecognisable remains of Mamba were among them; and thus, even in their death, he and Ramatoa were not divided!

At this time of terrible suffering and trial—as in the previous persecutions during the reign of this tyrant queen—hundreds of Christians willingly submitted to the loss of position, wealth, and liberty for the sake of Jesus, besides those who witnessed a good confession, and sealed their testimony with their blood. Thirty-seven native preachers, with their wives and families, were consigned to a life of slavery. More than a hundred men and women were flogged and sentenced to work in chains during their lives. Some were heavily fined, and many among the “great and noble” were stripped of honours and titles, reduced to the ranks, and forced to labour at the hardest and most menial occupation.

Among these last was Prince Ramonja, who had been the means of sheltering, secreting, and saving many Christians. Fortunately Prince Rakota retained his influence over his mother, and his power to do good—a circumstance for which our three adventurers had ultimately reason to thank God, though, for a considerable time after that, they remained in prison, in company with their friends Ravonino, Voalavo, Laihova, and others.

These last were not delivered from their chains, but lived in hourly expectation of being led out to execution. After Ra-Ruth’s removal, Laihova was at first overwhelmed with despair, but when a friendly jailor informed him of her having been spared under the supposition that she was insane, hope revived a little, though he could not help seeing that the prospect ahead was still very black.

Another prisoner who was inconsolable was poor Reni-Mamba. From the time that she was told of her son’s fate she seemed to sink into a state of quiet imbecility, from which no efforts of her friends could rouse her. She did not murmur or complain. She simply sat silent and callous to everything around her. She, Rafaravavy, Sarah, and the other females, were removed to another prison, and for a long time their male friends could learn nothing as to their fate.

“It is this prolonged uncertainty that’s so hard to bear,” remarked Ravonino to Mark one day, lifting his hands high above his head, and letting them fall, with the clanking chains, into his lap.

“True, true,” replied the youth, shortly—for confinement was beginning to tell unfavourably on himself.

“Das w’ere it is,” remarked Ebony, endeavouring to brighten up a little, but with only moderate success, “it’s sottin still an’ doin’ nuffin dat kills. What you tink, ’Ockins?”

“Ay, ay,” assented the seaman; and as for a long time nothing more than “ay, ay,” had been got out of Hockins, Ebony relapsed into silence.

Things had reached this lugubrious pass when an event occurred which materially affected the condition of the prisoners, and considerably altered the history of Madagascar.

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