← catalogue

The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar

by R. M. Ballantyne · English · Gutenberg #23263 · 554,686 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar

Author: R. M. Ballantyne

Illustrator: Pearson


        
Release date: October 31, 2007 [eBook #23263]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23263

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FUGITIVES: THE TYRANT QUEEN OF MADAGASCAR ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Fugitives, by R.M. Ballantyne.

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

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

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

________________________________________________________________________
THE FUGITIVES, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.



PREFACE.

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

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

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

R M Ballantyne.

Harrow-on-the-Hill, 1887.



CHAPTER ONE.

INTRODUCES THE CHIEF ACTORS AND A FEW MYSTERIES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi! here am a track."

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

A sort of groan escaped from the doctor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you hear that, Hockins?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER TWO.

HARKS BACK A LITTLE.

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

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

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

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

murmured Ebony, quoting an ancient ditty.

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

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

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

"Nuffin' ob de sort!  Look here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We will now return to our friends in the tree.



CHAPTER THREE.

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

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

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

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

"Agreed," said Hockins, stretching himself.

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

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

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

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

"I am equally destitute," said Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Or wid nuffin'," sighed Ebony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No use wassomiver," said Ebony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER FOUR.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A penny whistle!" exclaimed Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Antananarivo," suggested the outlaw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER FIVE.

THE OUTLAW'S FRIENDS.  THREATENED DANGER CURIOUSLY AVERTED.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do they hunt for?" asked Mark.

"Men and women."

"By which I suppose you mean rebels."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER SIX.

THE GUIDE BECOMES COMMUNICATIVE, AND TELLS OF TERRIBLE DOINGS.

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

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

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

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

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

Hockins nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here Mark Breezy took up the conversation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER SEVEN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mamba was close to her.

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

"My son, help me to rise."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With these the guide gently remonstrated.

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

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

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

"Are they Christians?" asked Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Humbugged," suggested Hockins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER EIGHT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hockins said nothing, being sound asleep.

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

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

"No, I didn't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER NINE.

A JOVIAL CHIEF, AND NEW EXPERIENCES OF VARIOUS KINDS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He is taking snuff."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you feel the want of it much?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guide turned on Mark an earnest, inquiring look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER TEN.

TELLS OF A GRAND HUNT AND OTHER THINGS.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not, massa?" asked Ebony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"In the earth," answered the guide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AN UNINVITED GUEST APPEARS WITH NEWS THAT DEMANDS INSTANT ACTION.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My brother!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think so," answered Mark, modestly.

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

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

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

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

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

"Used to it?" repeated Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A NARROW ESCAPE AND THREATENING CLOUDS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that your friend?" asked Mark.

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

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

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

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

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

"Will you allow me to pass, sir?"

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

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

Then followed the conventional inquiry, "How are you?  How is it with
you?" which politenesses, in a number of variations unknown to Western
speech, would have been continued, in ordinary circu

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/23263