And now for an hour and a half we had to pass through dense forest

by a narrow footpath, where no _filanjàna_ (palanquin) could be

carried (at least with its owner seated on it). Up and down, down

and up, stooping under fallen trees, or climbing over them, soon

getting wet through with the dripping leaves on either hand, and

the mud and water underfoot—we had little time to observe anything

around us, lest a tree root or a slippery place should trip us up. At

two-fifteen we came to an open clearing, and thought our difficulties

were over, but presently we plunged into denser forest than ever,

and up and down rougher paths. Notwithstanding the danger of looking

about, it was impossible to avoid admiring the luxuriance of the

vegetation. Many of the trees were enormously high, and so buttressed

round their trunks that they were of great girth at the ground. The

tree-ferns seemed especially large, with an unusual number of fronds;

and the creeper bamboo festooned the large trees with its delicate

pinnate leaves.

[Sidenote: A DEEP GORGE]

It soon became evident that we were descending, and that pretty

rapidly. For a considerable distance we had a stream on our left

hand, which roared and foamed over a succession of rapids, going to

the south-east; and every now and then we caught glimpses of the

opening in the woods made by the stream, presenting lovely bits of

forest scenery in real tropical luxuriance. The sun shone out for a

few minutes, but presently it clouded over, and heavy rain came on.

The increasing roar of waters told of an unusually large fall, and in

a few minutes we came down an opening where we could see the greater

part of it, a large body of water rushing down a smooth slope of rock

about a hundred feet deep, and at an angle of forty-five degrees.

Three or four times we had to cross the stream, on rocks in and out

of the water, with a powerful current sweeping around and over them.

We found after a while that we had come down to the side of a deep

gorge in the hills which rose hundreds of feet on each side of it,

and down which the stream descended rapidly by a series of grand

cascades to the lower and more open country which we could see at

intervals through openings in the woods.

At half-past four we emerged from the forest and came down by a steep

slippery path through bush and jungle. And now there opened before

us one of the grandest scenes that can be imagined. The valley, down

which we had come, opened out into a tremendous hollow or bay, three

or four miles across, and more than twice as long, running into the

higher level of the country from which we had descended. The hills,

or, rather, edges of the upper plateau, rise steeply all round this

great bay, covered with wood to their summits, which are from two

thousand to three thousand feet above the lower country. Between

these bold headlands we could count four or five waterfalls, two

of them falling in a long riband of foam several hundred feet down

perpendicular faces of rock. Between the opening points of this great

valley, three or four miles apart, could be seen a comparatively

level undulating country, with patches of wood and the windings of

the river Màtitànana. On a green hill to the north side of the valley

was a group of houses, which we were glad to hear was Ivòhitròsa,

our destination. This hill we found was seven hundred feet above the

stream at its foot, but it looked small compared with the towering

heights around it. At last we reached the bottom of the valley,

crossed the stream, and presently commenced the steep ascent to the

village. It was quite dark before we reached it, muddy, wet and tired

out; we had been eight hours on the way, and five and a half on foot

over extremely rough and fatiguing paths. The native chief and his

people had overtaken us in the forest and went on first to prepare a

house for us.

[Sidenote: A STRIKING PICTURE]

We found that the best dwelling in the village was ready, and a

bright fire blazing on the hearth. It was with some difficulty that

we got all our baggage arranged inside, for, although the largest

house available, it was rather smaller than our tent, and nearly a

quarter of it was occupied by the hearth and the space around it. At

one side of the fire were sitting four young women, the daughters of

the chief. A glance at these young ladies showed us that we had come

into the territory of a tribe different from any we had yet seen.

They were lightly clothed in a fine mat wrapped round their waists,

but were highly ornamented on their heads, necks, and arms. A fillet

of small white beads, an inch or so wide, was round their heads,

fastened by a circular metal plate on their foreheads. From their

necks hung several necklaces of long oval white beads and smaller

red ones. On their wrists they had silver rings, and a sort of broad

bracelet of small black, white, and red beads; and on every finger

and on each thumb were rings of brass wire. In the glancing firelight

they certainly made a striking picture of barbaric ornamentations;

and notwithstanding their dark skins and numerous odd little tails

of hair, some of them were comely enough. We had soon to ask them to

retire in order to stow away our packages and get some tea ready.

The house was raised a foot or so from the ground, the inside lined

with mats, and so was a pleasant change from our damp lodgings of the

previous evening.

[Sidenote: RICE-HOUSES]

Next morning, on opening our window, we had before us, two or three

miles across the great basin or valley, three waterfalls, one

descending in a long white line and almost lost in spray before it

reaches the bottom. The sunlight revealed all the beauties of the

scene around us, and made us long for the power to transfer to canvas

or paper its chief outlines. Were such a neighbourhood as this in

an accessible part of any European country, it would rapidly become

famous for its scenery. We found the village of Ivòhitròsa to consist

of twelve houses only, enclosed within a _ròva_ of pointed stakes;

but besides these are several rice-houses or _tràno àmbo_ (“high

houses”) mounted on posts five or six feet above the ground, each

post having a circular wooden ring just under the flooring rafters,

and projecting eight or nine inches, so as to prevent the rats

ascending and helping themselves to rice. I sincerely wished last

night that the dwelling-houses had a similar arrangement, for the

rats had a most jovial night of it in our lodgings, being doubtless

astonished at the number and variety of the packages just arrived.

The house we are in, as well as others in the village, has carved

horns at the gables, not the crossed straight timbers so called in

Hova houses, but curved like bullocks’ horns. The people appear to

have no slaves here, for the daughters of the chief, in all their

ornaments, are pounding rice, four at one mortar.

At this part of the island the high interior plateau seems to descend

by _one_ great step to the coast plains, and not by _two_, as it does

farther north; for our aneroid told us that we came down twenty-five

hundred feet yesterday, and that the stream at the foot of this hill

is only five hundred or six hundred feet above sea-level. And the two

lines of forest one crosses farther on are here united into one.

The men and many of the women wear a rather high round skull-cap made

of fine plait; the women wear little except a mat sewn together at

the ends, so as to form a kind of sack, and fastened by a cord round

the waist, and only occasionally pulled up high enough to cover the

bosom. Those who are nursing infants have also a small figured mat

about eighteen inches square on their backs and suspended by a cord

from the neck; this is called _lòndo_, and is used to protect the

child from the sun or rain, as it lies in a fold of the mat above the

girdle. Some of the men wear a mat as a _làmba_, and only a few have

_làmbas_ of coarse _rofìa_ or hemp cloth. The people here blacken

their teeth with a root, which gives them an unpleasant appearance

as they open their mouths; not all the teeth, however, are thus

disfigured, but chiefly those at the back, leaving the front ones

white; in some cases the lower teeth are alternately black and white.

The morning of one of our four days at Ivòhitròsa was employed in

trying to get a good view of the largest of the waterfalls which pour

down into the large valley already mentioned. Mounting a spur of the

main hills, we had a good view of this chief fall up a deep gorge to

the south, and so opening into the main valley as not to be visible

from the village. This is certainly a most magnificent fall of water.

The valley ends in a semicircular wall of rock crowned by forest, and

over this pours at one leap the river Màtitànana. Knowing the heights

of some of the neighbouring hills, we judged that the fall could not

be less than from five hundred to six hundred feet in depth, and from

the foot rises a continual cloud of spray, like smoke, with a roar

which reverberates up the rocky sides of the valley; even from two or

three miles’ distance, which was as near as we could get, it was a

very grand sight.

[Sidenote: MALAGASY RASPBERRIES]

While on this little excursion we had a feast of another kind. On

our way home we came across a large cluster of bushes full of wild

raspberries. This fruit is common on the borders of the forest, but

we never before saw it in such quantities, or of so large a size, or

of so sweet a taste. The Malagasy raspberry is a beautiful scarlet

fruit, larger than the European kind; and while perhaps not quite

equal in flavour to those grown in England, is by no means to be

despised; and we were able on that day to enjoy it to our heart’s

content.

[Illustration: A GROUP OF TANÀLA GIRLS IN FULL DRESS]

[Illustration: TANÀLA GIRLS SINGING AND CLAPPING HANDS]

During our stay at Ivòhitròsa we were surprised and delighted with

the brightness and intelligence of many of the native boys. Although

the dialectic differences of the Tanàla speech are many as compared

with the Hova form of Malagasy, we obtained a large vocabulary from

them as well as names of the forest birds and animals, and also those

of trees and fruits. And as these forests and their vicinity are

the home of several of the lemurs which have not yet been noticed

in these pages, I will here give some particulars of four or five

species.

The ring-tailed lemur (_Lemur catta_) is perhaps the best known

of all the lemuridæ, from its handsomely marked tail, which is

ringed with black and white bands, thus clearly distinguishing

it from all the other species of the sub-order. And while almost

every other lemur is arboreal, this species lives among the rocks,

over which they can easily travel, but can be only followed with

great difficulty. The palms of their hands are long, smooth and

leather-like, and so enable these animals to find a firm footing on

the slippery wet rocks. The thumbs on the hinder hands are very much

smaller than those of the forest-inhabiting lemurs, as they do not

need them for grasping the branches of trees. Their winter food is

chiefly the fruit of the prickly pear; while in summer they subsist

chiefly on wild figs and bananas. This species bears a sea voyage

fairly well, so that they are often seen in Mauritius and Réunion,

and even more distant places.

Another species of lemur, which inhabits the south-eastern forests,

is the broad-nosed gentle lemur (_Hapalemur simus_). This animal

is found among the bamboos, and it appears to subsist in a great

measure on the young shoots of that plant. For biting and mincing up

the stalks its teeth seem admirably adapted, as they are nearly all

serrated cutting teeth, and are arranged so as mutually to intersect.

It eats almost all the day long, and has a curious dislike of fruit.

It is furnished with a remarkably broad pad on each of the hinder

thumbs, so that it is able to grasp firmly even the smallest surfaces.

[Sidenote: MOUSE-LEMURS]

Perhaps the most beautiful and interesting—as well as the

smallest—lemuriæ animals inhabiting Madagascar belong to the group

called Cheirogale, or mouse-lemurs, of which there are seven species.

As their name implies, they are very small, the dwarf species

(_Cheirogaleus minor_) being only four inches long, with a tail of

six inches. This pretty little animal is remarkable also for its

large and very resplendent eyes, for the eye admits so much light

at dusk that quite an unusual brilliancy is produced. The brown

mouse-lemur (_Cheirogaleus major_) is larger than the last-named

species, being seven or eight inches long. Most, if not all, of the

species live in the highest trees, and make a globular nest of twigs

and leaves; they all appear to be nocturnal animals, as one might

suppose from the structure of their eyes. The smallest, or dwarf,

species, is said to be very shy and wild, very quarrelsome and fights

very fiercely. Some of these little animals, if not all of them, have

a time of summer sleep; and the tail, which is grossly fat at the

beginning of that period, becomes excessively thin at its close, its

fat being slowly absorbed to maintain vitality. The two (or three)

species of mouse-lemur here noticed inhabit the south-eastern forest

region; others appear to be confined to the north-western woods.

[26] A writer in a defunct newspaper, _The Madagascar Times_, of 10th

August 1889, describes in so true and graphic a fashion the old style

of Malagasy _filanjàna_ bearers, in the following rhymes, that I

think they are well worth preserving in these pages:—

Bearing their burdens cheerily, laughing the livelong day,

Pacing o’er dale and mountain, wending their toilsome way;

Puffing and panting, up hills steeply slanting,

Skilfully bearing the _filanjàna_ canting,

Grumbling not at the sun’s scorching ray.

Wading through swamp and brooklet, splashing their course along,

Bounding through plain and forest, thinking the track not long.

Chattering and pattering, with tongue ever clattering,

Joyous if of it the Vazàha has a smattering;

Growling not at the rain’s stinging thong.

Pacing with even footsteps, never losing time,

Changing places racing, like the measured beat of rhyme.

Lifting and shifting, but never desisting,

Always each other with pleasure assisting;

Happy through all the toiling daytime.

Tramping with wondrous vigour, moving with easy grace,

Pausing not in their journey, dashing as in a race;

Smiling and wiling, for a present beguiling,

Ever joke-cracking, if the Vazàha is not riling—

Such is the life of our native _mpilànja_,

This is the marvellous way that they keep up the pace!

_Note._—“Vazàha” is the native word for Europeans; _mpilànja_ means a

_filanjàna_ bearer.

[Sidenote: ORNAMENTAL PATTERNS]

[27] My friend, Mr G. A. Shaw, who was connected for several

years with the Bétsiléo Mission, made a number of “rubbings” of

this peculiar ornamentation. On exhibiting many of these at the

Folk-lore Society, when I read a paper on this subject, one of the

members expressed a strong opinion that these patterns must have had

originally some religious signification; and another member remarked

that the patterns closely resembled those on articles from the

Nicobar Islands.

[28] The word “Tanàla,” which simply means “forest dwellers” (_àla_

= forest), is a name loosely given to a number of tribes of the

south-east, who inhabit the wooded regions and the adjacent country.

All, however, have their proper tribal names and divisions.

CHAPTER XIX

IVÒHITRÒSA

Our Sunday at Ivòhitròsa was such a novel and interesting one that

I shall depart for once from my rule of omitting in these chapters

mention of our religious work. It was a wet morning, so that it was

after eleven o’clock before the rain ceased and we could call the

people together. A good many had come up from the country round

on the previous day to see us, and we collected them on a long

and pretty level piece of rock which forms one side of the little

square around which the houses are built. When all had assembled,

there must have been nearly three hundred present, including our own

men, who grouped themselves near us. It was certainly the strangest

congregation we had ever addressed, for the men had their weapons,

while the women looked very heathenish. Some few had put some slight

covering over the upper part of their bodies, but most were just as

they ordinarily appeared, some with hair and necks dripping with

castor oil, and with their conspicuous bead ornaments on head, neck,

and arms. One could not but feel deeply moved to see these poor

ignorant folks, the great majority of them joining for the first

time in Christian worship, and hearing for the first time the news

of salvation. And remembering our own ignorance of much of their

language, the utter strangeness of the message we brought, and the

darkness of their minds, we could not but feel how little we could

in one brief service do to quicken their apprehension of things

spiritual and eternal. We had some of our most hearty lively hymns

and tunes, our men assisting us well in the singing; after Mr Street

had spoken to the people from a part of the Sermon on the Mount, I

also addressed them, trying in as simple a manner as was possible to

tell them what we had come for, what that “glad tidings” was which we

taught them. On account of the rain, work in the afternoon had to be

confined to what could be done in our tent, which was crammed full,

and in our house.[29]

That there was great need for enlightenment may be seen from what we

heard from the people themselves—viz. that there are (or were) eight

unlucky days in every month, and that children born on those days

were killed by their being held with their faces immersed in water

in the winnowing-fan. So that on an average, more than a quarter of

the children born were destroyed! The Tanàla names for the months

are all different from those used in Imèrina; they have no names for

the weekdays, and indeed no division of time by sevens, but the days

throughout each month (lunar) are known by twelve names, some applied

to two days and others to three days consecutively, and these day

names are nearly all identical with the Hova names for the months.

Each of the days throughout the month has its _fàdy_, or food which

must not be eaten when travelling on that day.

After our four days’ stay at Ivòhitròsa, we managed to get on our

way towards the coast, not, however, without having considerable

difficulty with our bearers, who were afraid of any new and hitherto

untried route, for we were the first Europeans to travel in this

direction. By tact and firmness we managed to secure our point; and

on the Thursday afternoon we came down to the river Màtitànana, which

is at this point a very fine broad stream, with a rapid and deep

current. It flows here through a nearly straight valley for four or

five miles in a southerly direction, with low bamboo-covered hills on

either side, and its channel much broken by rocky islands. To cross

this stream, about a hundred yards wide at this place, no canoes were

available, but there was a bamboo raft called a _zàhitra_.

[Sidenote: THE ZÀHITRA]

Of all the rude, primitive and ramshackle contrivances ever invented

for water carriage, commend me to a _zàhitra_. This one consisted

of about thirty or forty pieces of bamboo, from ten to twelve feet

long, lashed together by bands of some tough creeper or _vàhy_, which

said bamboos were constantly slipping out of their places and needed

trimming at every trip, and the fastenings had to be refixed. The

_zàhitra_ would take only two boxes and one man at a trip, besides

the captain of the raft, and when loaded was from a third to a half

of it under water. The civilisation of the people about here seemed

to have not yet produced a paddle; a split bamboo supplied (very

imperfectly) the place of one. Owing to the strong current and the

feeble navigating appliances available, not more than about four

trips over and back again could be made in an hour. And so there on

the bank we sat from a little after two o’clock until nearly six,

watching the ferrying over of our baggage, and then of our bearers.

At sunset a good number of our men were still on the wrong side of

the water, and so, as there was no possibility of getting them all

over that day, and neither Mr S. nor I relished the prospect of a

voyage on a _zàhitra_ in the dark, we crossed at a little after

sunset. We made a safe passage, but got considerably wet during its

progress; Mr S. took an involuntary foot-bath, and I a sitz-bath. The

rest of our men returned to a village overlooking the river, while

we went a little way up the woods and, finding a level spot, pitched

the tent there, our bearers who had crossed occupying two or three

woodcutters’ huts which were fortunately close at hand.

[Sidenote: A VILLAGE BELLE]

During the three or four hours’ waiting on the river bank we had a

good opportunity of observing the people from the village just above,

who came down to watch our passage over the water. Amongst them

was a girl whose appearance was so striking that I must attempt a

description of her. She was a comely lassie, although a dark-skinned

one, and was so ornamented as to be conspicuous among her companions

even at some distance. Round her head she had the same fillet of

white beads with a metal plate in the front which we had observed at

Ivòhitròsa, but from it depended a row of small beads like drops.

On each side of her temples hung a long ornament of hair and beads

reaching below her chin, several beads hung from her ears, and a

number of white and oblong beads were worked into her hair at the

back. Round her neck she had six strings of large beads, and another

passing over one shoulder and under the arm. On each wrist were

three or four silver bracelets, while on every finger and thumb

were several coils of brass wire. Her clothing was a piece of bark

cloth fastened just above the hips, over a skirt of fine mat, and

on each toe was a brass ring. Thus “from top to toe” she was got up

regardless of expense; she was probably the daughter of the chief;

anyhow, she was evidently the village belle, and seemed well aware of

the fact.

[Illustration: TANÀLA SPEARMEN

Note the wooden shields covered with bullock’s hide, and the charm on

a man’s breast. They are very expert spearmen]

Our route towards the sea was now over a comparatively level country,

but not without many steep ascents and descents, and generally

following the valley of the Màtitànana. As I took with me a good

theodolite, I was able to make a running survey of a large portion of

our journey, and to map, for the first time, that river valley. The

path was often hidden by long grass which was much higher than our

heads, the bearers’ feet being frequently hurt by the sharp prickly

grass called _tsèvoka_. We had beautiful views of the river, and the

foliage became most luxuriant; the valleys were full of the elegant

traveller’s tree, while in front of us whole hills were covered with

the lovely light green of the bamboo, with its graceful curving head

and fine pinnate leaves at every joint.

A very prominent feature in the vegetation of many places we passed

through was the _longòzy_, a plant which seemed frequently to

prevent anything else from growing (_Amomum angustifolium_). It has

a rod-like stem, rising sometimes from twelve to fourteen feet high,

with leaves a foot or more long, growing alternately on each side

the stem. At the base grow the fruits in a bright, smooth, scarlet

husk, two or three inches long, enclosing a white silky-looking

pulp containing a number of purplish-black seeds, the cardamom of

commerce. The pulp has a pleasant acid taste, but if one of the seeds

is broken a pungent burning sensation is experienced at the back of

the mouth.

[Sidenote: TANÀLA HOUSES]

The better kind of houses in these Tanàla villages have the walls

made of bamboo flattened and plaited together, while the poorer ones

are of the leaves of the traveller’s tree. Every house is roofed

with the latter material; in many of them the gable projects at

the ridge twice as much as at the eaves, so as to make a kind of

pent at each end. The gable timbers are frequently cut into a very

exact resemblance to ox horns. In most of the villages money seems

of little use to the people; they value beads or calico much more.

Every woman and girl, and many of the men and boys, are decorated

with beads, and these seem an important part of their property. Their

religion seems to consist chiefly of charms; charms against guns,

fever, crocodiles, etc. We purchased for a little cloth a charm

against gun-shot; this consisted of three hollow tin receptacles

resembling crocodiles’ teeth, joined together and filled with what

looks like coarsely cut tobacco. The former owner tells us that this

charm has such virtue that a musket ball is turned aside from the

fortunate wearer. Many of the people carry shields, which are made

of a circular piece of tough wood, about eighteen inches in diameter

and covered with undressed bullocks’ hide. A handle is cut out of the

solid wood at the back. The women in this Màtitànana valley carry

a broad knife or chopper stuck in their girdles, and resembling in

shape a butcher’s cleaver, with a short round handle; this is used

for cutting up manioc and other roots.

[Sidenote: A JUNGLE OF BAMBOO]

At one point on our route we passed through a dense jungle of bamboo,

requiring a bright look-out on the part of the bearers—and the borne

as well—to avoid damage from the sharp-edged stumps underfoot, and

the stems and tendrils overhead. But the effect of the numberless

thickly set, smooth, jointed stems, like slender columns below, and

the feathery canopy of delicate green above, was both curious and

beautiful. At one little stream we passed some fine specimens of

the _hòfa_, a screw-pine or pandanus, with the aerial roots in a

cone-shaped mass, rising five or six feet above the ground. A very

common tree about here is one with clusters of large leaves like

those of a horse-chestnut, and with a hard mottled green fruit as big

as a lemon, from which gum is made.

In a small open space among the trees we passed by almost the only

sign we had yet seen of anything like religious observances in the

Tanàla country. This was an upright stake in the ground with a

number of bamboos arranged round it, forming a cone-shaped erection;

in front of this several stones were fixed. At this rude altar the

heads of cattle, fowls, etc., are thrown as expiatory offerings; and

here also the people come to pray for blessings which they desire,

especially for children. We also passed on another day a long flat

stone supported by several smaller ones, forming a sort of altar, and

used for the same kind of offerings as those just described.

Following in the main the course of the river Màtitànana, we had

frequently to cross its tributaries, and found we were advancing in

civilisation as we proceeded. First, we had a single _zàhitra_ to

ferry us over; then two _zàhitra_ and a small canoe; then we got

good-sized canoes. A little after leaving the ferry we passed through

a large clump of immense banana-trees. They were at least forty

feet high, and with their smooth green stems—almost trunks—and grand

broad leaves, and great clusters of fruit, presented a magnificent

appearance. The fruit is called _òntsy_; these are about a foot long

and a couple of inches thick, and so a single one makes a fair meal.

[Sidenote: CROCODILES]

For several miles the river makes a great bend to the north, and

on following its banks again we saw crocodiles for the first time

on this journey. These were basking in the sunshine, perfectly

motionless, on a group of rocks just showing above the water. At

the distance we were I should not have noticed them but for my men

pointing them out; but with the glass every scale could be seen, and

very unpleasant-looking creatures they are in their slimy length,

with serrated back and tail, and rather small heads. Near them were

several large wading-birds, some white and others dark brown, and

called _àrondòvy_ (_i.e._ “protector of the enemy”). These birds

are constant attendants on the crocodiles, performing some service

for them; and where the birds are seen, the reptiles are never far

distant. We afterwards noticed that near all the villages on the

river banks a small space in the water was enclosed with stakes, so

that the women and children coming to draw water could do so without

fear of being seized by a crocodile, or swept off into the stream by

his tail.

From a remote period the Malagasy have been accustomed to resort to

ordeals for the detection of crime, and the ordeal by the _tangèna_

poison has already been referred to in these pages (see Chapter

III.). But among the Tanàla tribes an ordeal of another kind was

commonly employed to find out a guilty person; for anyone suspected

of wrong-doing was taken to the bank of the Màtitànana, or one of its

tributaries, where crocodiles abound. The people having assembled, a

man stood near the accused, and striking the water thrice, addressed

a long speech to the reptiles, adjuring them to punish the guilty,

but to spare the innocent. The accused was then made to swim across

the river and back again; and if he successfully accomplished this,

and was not hurt by the crocodiles, he was considered innocent, and

his accuser was fined four oxen. If, on the contrary, he was seized

and killed, he was supposed to have justly merited his fate. This

ordeal was termed _tangèm-voày_ (_voày_ = crocodile).

[Illustration: COIFFURES

Various styles of hairdressing among the Hova Malagasy women. The

upper figure on the right is in mourning with her hair dishevelled]

[Sidenote: HAIRDRESSING]

As we proceeded nearer the coast, we found by the style of

hairdressing among the women that we had come into the territory

of a different tribe to that amongst whom we had been travelling.

Many of the young women had a singular but somewhat elegant style of

coiffure. It was done thus: the hair was plaited in very fine braids,

and then twisted into thin flat circular coils of from two to two

and a half inches in diameter; these were symmetrically arranged,

one overlapping the other, in two rows, the upper one completely

encircling the head from the forehead to the back of the neck, and

the other ending below the ears. These young girls really looked

well, for they had the appearance of being well dressed. The women

here were more fully clothed than those of the Tanàla; the skirt of

fine mat is worn here, but there is more of it, and hemp cloth seems

in more common use.

The country became flatter, undulating, but with no prominent rising

grounds. The vegetation also was quite different from what we had

become accustomed to during the last four days. There were no more

bamboos, hardly any traveller’s trees, but large numbers of single

trees or small clumps of them. These were chiefly the _adàbo_, a

species of _Ficus_, a tree with massive smooth trunk and light brown

bark; they have a much more rounded and shapely outline than the

forest trees, and give the scenery quite an English appearance. But

the presence of an occasional fan-palm or cocoanut-palm lifting their

tall plumes aloft soon dispelled the illusion. The villages, too,

became numerous, and many of them are built five or six together—that

is, in lines of as many, only a short distance between them.

[Illustration: A FOREST RIVER

Immense arums (vìha) are in the foreground, and reflections of

Travellers’ trees are seen in the water]

We had a curious congregation on the Sunday at one of the two

villages where we spoke to the people, of whom a good many collected

together. But as heavy showers came on, most of our auditors were

standing under the elevated rice-houses (_tràno àmbo_), as we also

were. Still we were able to speak a few earnest words to them. Almost

in the midst of our speaking, the old chief of the village came up to

give us—a bottle of rum! and a fowl. The former of these presents,

as well as others of the same kind, were, as soon as darkness set

in, carried outside, and poured on the ground as the best way of

disposing of their contents. We were glad to find that the Taimòro,

among whom we had now come, did not, like the Tanàla, kill children

born on unlucky days, but by some ceremonies and offerings avert

the evils supposed to be connected with them.

[Sidenote: GREAT ARUMS]

A week’s journey from Ivòhitròsa brought us to a Hova military post

again—viz. to the town of Ambòhipèno, which is only a few miles

from the mouth of the Màtitànana river, and is the central one of

a line of three villages. Here we had a hospitable reception from

the governor and his officers, as well as from the congregation

and its pastor. Although the sea was still some miles distant, we

could distinctly hear the roar of the surf some time before reaching

Ambòhipèno. On a voyage to the seaside, which we made the day after

our arrival, we had a fine large canoe which had more sharply pointed

stem and stern than in those seen in Imèrina. We were struck by the

great arums (_vìha_) growing in thick masses along the banks in the

water. These were from twelve to fifteen feet high, with thick fleshy

stems and leaf-stalks, lily-like leaves, between two and three feet

long, and magnificent white flowers, with a scarlet pistil. The fruit

is occasionally used by the natives as an article of food. We picked

up some good shells (_Turritellæ_, _Cypræa_, etc.) on the seashore,

as well as corals, seaweed and sponges. Like almost every river on

the east coast, the mouth is closed by a sand bar, until the rains

of the wet season fill the river so full that the bar is broken for

a few weeks, and then the south-east winds and currents close it up

again.

The greater part of two days were spent at Ambòhipèno in services and

school examinations, which latter were especially interesting and

satisfactory. We were amused by the decoration of the pulpit in the

native church, which was rather extraordinary. It was a high box-like

affair, part of the front being occupied by a picture of a European

ship, the other part by a church with a tall tower and spire; while

over these was a text (in Malagasy), “Says the owner of this house,

Fear”; although it would be difficult to find the passage in this

exact form. These objects, together with birds perched on trees, made

a curious mixture of subjects for pulpit decoration.

[Sidenote: BUTTERFLIES]

In the narrow lanes near the village we passed great numbers and many

varieties of butterflies in a few minutes’ ride. Judging from what

we saw, an entomologist would find a rich harvest in the Taimòro

country. Dr Vinson, a French naturalist who came up to the capital

in 1862, says: “The habits of the lepidoptera are much affected in

Madagascar by atmospheric changes. In the misty mornings everything

sleeps or hides itself under the damp foliage, but as soon as the sun

shines out, the forest, the footpath, the beds of the torrents, are

peopled with bright-coloured and light-flying butterflies. They give

themselves up to all kinds of frolic with a wanton joy; they court,

they pursue, they fly, interlacing and eddying in their flight in

the air like the brilliant flakes of a coloured snow.” In travelling

up through this eastern forest a few years later, but in the hotter

season of the year, I was struck by the number and variety of the

butterflies which crossed our path. There was the rather common one

of greyish-green with dark markings, the blackish-brown one with

two large blue spots, the widely distributed warm brown one with

black-edged wings, the pure white one, the white with orange edges,

the white with black edges, the white with small black spots near the

edge of the wings, the small yellow species, the small buff one, the

white with crimped edges, the minute brown and blue, and many others.

In damp places, a cloud of the smaller yellow and buff kinds may be

often seen sipping the moisture.

While staying near the forest I was several times struck by the

curious formation of the wings of one of the smaller species

of butterfly. The insect in question is of plain inconspicuous

colouring, chiefly shades of brown, and when at rest sits with the

wings erect. The noticeable point is that there are several strongly

marked and dark-tinted processes from the hinder part of the wings,

which resemble the head, eyes and antennæ of a butterfly, so that

when at rest it is very difficult to say which is the head and which

is the tail of the insect. The tail markings and points are so much

more strongly emphasised than the actual head and antennæ, that it

is only when the wings slightly open that one is undeceived. Mimicry

of one insect by another, and mimicry of leaves, grass, etc., by

insects, are of course well-known facts, but I do not remember to

have seen any similar instances noticed of resemblance between the

different parts of the same insect; but may not the reason of this

mimicry of the head by the tail be of some service in directing the

attention of birds and other enemies to the less vital part of the

butterfly’s structure? It is evident that the hinder portion of the

wings might be snapped at and broken off, and yet no serious injury

be done to the vital parts of the insect. However this may be, the

point appears to me to be worth noting down as a curious fact.

[Sidenote: ARAB INFLUENCE]

Talking with the people in the evening, we found we were in one of

the districts where the Arab influence must have been very strong in

former times. They are called Zafin Ibrahim (descendants of Abraham),

and told us they were connected with the Jews. There is no doubt,

however, that the Arabs had anciently an important settlement here,

and to some extent taught the use of Arabic letters and literature;

but being isolated from their fellow-countrymen and co-religionists,

they gradually became absorbed in the native population. It is

probable that many of the chiefs of the south-east tribes are of

Arab descent, and so are often lighter in colour than the mass of

the people. An intelligent young man gave me a paper containing

all the Arabic characters and many of the syllabic sounds, with

their equivalents in Malagasy. He had, about six years previously,

copied out for M. A. Grandidier, who was then exploring the coasts

of Madagascar, a number of extracts from native Arabic books of

prayers, genealogies, and sorcery. This young man’s father, then

dead, was one of the _ombiàsy_ or diviners, and his books of charms

and incantations, being supposed to be connected with idolatry,

were destroyed at the time of the burning of the idols in 1869. A

few years after our journey, two of the Bétsiléo missionaries, when

making an evangelistic tour among the south-east tribes, obtained

some pages of manuscript from this neighbourhood. These were

apparently written in Arabic; and on being submitted to an expert

in that language, were pronounced to be extracts from the Koran,

evidently copied by someone who did not know Arabic, and so were

full of errors; these quotations were no doubt used as charms and

invocations. (I may here notice that, very recently, copies of the

Malagasy scriptures have been boiled by the native diviners, and the

water sold as a very powerful charm!)

[Sidenote: SEA-BIRDS]

Being near the sea, we had opportunities of seeing many birds which

are oceanic in their distribution, among which are the frigate-birds

(one species), and the tropic-birds (two species). The former are

true pirates, living almost in dependence upon other fishing birds,

whom they force, when these are weaker than themselves, to give

up the fish they have taken. But they do also fish for themselves,

darting down upon the surface of the water. The white tropic-bird

is also an expert fisher, plunging sometimes to a great depth after

its prey. They remain all night on their nest, leaving it at sunrise

to fish in the open sea. After heavy storms the frigate-bird is

occasionally seen quite in the interior, being apparently driven

inwards by the violence of the wind.

Of the sea-birds proper, there are about a score kinds frequenting

the coasts of Madagascar, including those widely spread and

powerful-winged species belonging to the terns, the noddies, the

gulls, and the petrels. Very little, however, has been noted here as

to their habits, and they probably differ little, if anything, from

their fellows which are found all over the world. One of the terns

comes up into the interior, and has been shot in Imèrina, and so

also has one of the gulls; another is common on the Alaotra lake in

Antsihànaka.

[29] I am glad to say that our visit was a means of calling attention

to the needs of the forest tribes; and that evangelists have been

stationed for many years past among these people, who are becoming

enlightened and Christianised.

CHAPTER XX

AMONG THE SOUTH-EASTERN PEOPLES

From the Hova military post at Ambòhipèno, my companion and I made

our way southwards, or rather first to the south-west, intending to

visit the congregations at the three or four other important places

in this district, as well as some of those in their vicinity. This

part of Madagascar is a comparatively level or undulating country,

extending for many miles between the forest-covered mountains and

highlands to the west, and the ocean to the east, and only about

three hundred to four hundred feet above sea-level. The native

inhabitants were conquered—often with much cruelty and treachery—by

the Hova, about fifty years previous to the date of our visit, but

the cruelties of the wars carried on by the armies of Radàma I. and

Rànavàlona I. were not forgotten. Over large districts, all the male

population whose heads were above the armpits of the soldiers were

ruthlessly shot down or speared, and the women and children taken as

slaves, so that a large proportion of the slave population of Imèrina

were descended from the tribes in these south-eastern districts.

Since then, the people quietly submitted to the superior power; but

these military posts were still maintained with governors, officers,

and a small force of soldiers; and at most of them there was a

considerable display of military authority, the gates being guarded,

and the drum beaten at regular times every morning and evening. With

one notable exception, we were everywhere received with the greatest

kindness and respect. Abundant presents of food for us and our men

were brought wherever we stopped; every facility was given us to

speak to the people, and we were helped in every way to prosecute our

journey.

The country between Ambòhipèno and Màhamànina was varied by low

hills in all directions, and patches of wood, the traveller’s tree

appearing in great numbers. The fruit of this beautiful tree was seen

very conspicuously, forming three or four clusters of sheaths, about

a dozen in each, much resembling the horns of a short-horned ox.

These project from between the leaf-stalks, two in full bloom, and

the other two generally dying off, or shedding the seeds, or rather

the seed-pods. These are oval in shape, about two inches long, and

yellow in colour, something like very large dates. These, when ripe,

open and show each pod dividing into three parts, each of which is

double, thus containing six rows of seeds about the size of a small

bean. But what seems very curious is, that each seed is wrapped in

a covering exactly like a small piece of blue silk with scalloped

edges. I could not get these, however, without some difficulty from

the ants, which swarmed all over trunk, leaf-stalks, and leaves, and

resented vigorously any intrusion into their domains.

[Sidenote: A LARGE GOVERNMENT HOUSE]

At Màhamànina we found old friends in the governor and his wife. The

_làpa_ or government house was the largest and finest house I had

ever seen in Madagascar, except the chief palace in the capital.

It was three storeys high, entirely of timber, with stout verandah

posts and very high-pitched roof; and everything here, gateways,

guard-houses and stockades, was of the most substantial character,

and made of fine massive timbers. After two days’ stay we proceeded

farther south, and at the village where we encamped for the night we

noticed a new style of coiffure among the women. Some of them had

their hair done in two rows of little balls, while behind the head

there was a piece of hollow wood ornamented with brass-headed nails

and fastened into the hair. In this they kept their needles and other

small property. Beads also were a good deal worn, and they had the

_lòndo_ or square mat on the back. At one village the young women

wear round the breast a broad band of neatly woven straw, ornamented

with a variety of patterns in different colours. It was rather

difficult to understand the talk of the people; the nasal _n_, the

peculiar intonation, and the pronouns and adverbs being all different

from the Hova forms, made their conversation a puzzle to us. Some, if

not all the people here, are a Sàkalàva colony from the west of the

island.

[Sidenote: EVIDENCE OF VOLCANIC ACTION]

We came the next day to a very boggy and difficult rice-valley.

Hereabouts the people make their _vàlam-parìhy_, or low earthen banks

between the rice-fields, with a foundation of small stakes stuck in

the ground, apparently to hold the earth together, as it seems less

tenacious and binding than that in Imèrina. When a good deal of the

earth has been washed away, it may easily be imagined that it is not

a pleasant thing walking along these banks. During the afternoon we

passed for some time over a slightly hollow tract thickly covered

with rounded lumps of dark brown rock resembling slag or scoria, and

full of holes like those produced by air-bubbles when the mass was in

a state of fusion. These were of all sizes, from a yard or two to an

inch in diameter, while the ground was covered with rounded pebbles

of the same material, of the size of small beans. This must surely

have been the bed of some ancient stream, long since diverted into

other channels by subsequent elevation of the surface. But whence was

this volcanic substance derived? For many miles westward there seems

no broken or rugged surface, nor anything to indicate subterranean

disturbance. Probably the great isolated mountain of Ivòhibé, which

we have seen for several days far away to the west, is an extinct

volcano, like so many hills farther north; and the ancient stream

has at some remote period cut through a dyke of lava and brought the

rolled and rounded fragments down its bed.

Walking about in the brilliant moonlight after our evening meal,

in a short time there was quite a crowd gathered together to watch

the extraordinary spectacle of two foreigners walking backwards and

forwards for no discoverable earthly purpose. After a little while we

stopped and began to talk to them, telling them of the old, but to

them perfectly new, story of the glad tidings, and of that “faithful

saying” which was worthy of their, and of all men’s, “acceptation.”

Travelling again towards the shore, we passed for some time through

country which was like a beautiful shrubbery, with low trees,

amongst which the _vòavòntaka_, with its perfectly globular green

or yellow fruit, the size of a large orange, was very plentiful and

conspicuous. There was also a tree, the _karàbo_, having enormous

pods with seeds like beans, but from two to three inches in diameter.

We passed fresh evidence of volcanic action in ancient streams of

lava, with sand and dust from some long extinct crater. Stopping at

sunset at a village called Màhavèlona, we found it, notwithstanding

its promising name (“causing to live”), the filthiest spot we had

seen in all our journey, quite worthy of the name given by a friend

to a place he stopped at, of “the well-dunged village.” We could

find no space where the tent could be pitched, and so began to look

for a house. There was one in the centre of the village that looked

of fair size, but the difficulty was, how to get to it, for it

was surrounded for a considerable distance by a slough of mud and

cow-dung that took our men nearly up to their knees. Happily there

were a few stout planks lying near, and with these we made a causeway

over the bog.

[Sidenote: THE TRAVELLER’S TREE]

The following day, while waiting in the belt of wood bordering the

shore, we had an opportunity of testing the accuracy of accounts

given of the water procurable from the traveller’s tree, about which,

although backed by the authority of Mr Ellis, and an illustration in

his “Three Visits to Madagascar,” I had always felt rather sceptical,

as somewhat of “a traveller’s tale.” In fact I had never before seen

the tree where plenty of good water was not to be had; but here

there was none for several miles except the stagnant, brackish and

offensive water of the lagoon. (Even my friend, Baron, says that the

tree is always found where good water is procurable.) But we found

that on piercing with a spear or a pointed stick the lower part of

one of the leaf-stalks, where they all clasp one over the other, a

small stream of water spurted out, from which one could drink to the

full of good, cool, and sweet water. If one of the outer leaf-stalks

was forcibly pulled down, a quantity of water gushed out, so that we

afterwards filled a vessel with as much as we needed. On examining a

section of one of the stalks, a hollow channel about half-an-inch in

diameter is seen running all down the inner side of the stalk from

the base of the leaf. The large cool surface of the leaves appears

to collect the water condensed from the atmosphere, and this is

conducted by the little channel downward to the base. The leaf-stalks

are all full of cells and of water, like those of the banana. After

three hours’ walking along the shore in the heavy sand, with a

hot sun overhead, we were grateful to be able to draw from these

numberless vegetable springs, and we thanked God for the traveller’s

tree; we felt that its name was no misnomer. We afterwards found in

a village not far away that small water-pots were placed in a hollow

cut at the base of the leaves, so as to collect water for drinking

and household use.

[Illustration: TREE FERNS IN THE FOREST]

[Illustration: TRAVELLERS’ TREES

In some places they are quite a feature of the landscape]

[Sidenote: AN UNEXPECTED PROHIBITION]

After five days’ journey from Màhamànina we reached a village

near Vangàindràno, another of the large Hova posts, and about three

hours’ ride from the sea. But here we met with a new and unexpected

experience, for we were prevented by the governor from going farther,

and in fact, all our men made prisoners and detained in the fort

for a couple of days, until we had agreed that we would not attempt

to travel farther southwards. He alleged that he was acting under

orders from the native government to allow no travelling south of the

Mànanàra river. Whether this was the truth or not, we never clearly

ascertained, nor any reason for such prohibition; but his whole

action was in such striking contrast to the courtesy with which we

were received everywhere else that it was difficult to believe he was

not exceeding his instructions, certainly in the harsh way in which

they were carried out. We had been repeatedly assured that there were

no difficulties in travelling along the coast and that the country

was perfectly tranquil, and that we could easily reach Fort Dauphine

in a week. However, there was no help for it; we had to abandon our

hope of seeing the congregations and people, as well as the country,

to the south, and on 11th July we turned northwards, “homeward

bound.” On one of the nights when we were thus stopped on our way,

we saw what is not at all a common sight—namely, a very well-defined

and distinct lunar rainbow. It looked pale and watery, however, quite

a ghost of the rainbow produced by sunlight. During many years’

residence in Madagascar, I have only seen one on two other occasions.

On the sides of the lagoons and marshes may be found the curious

pitcher-plant (_Nepenthes_). It is a shrub, about four feet high,

and its jug-shaped pitchers, four or five inches in length, contain

abundant water and numerous insects. The pitcher with its cover are

most remarkable modifications of the petiole or leaf-stalk; and this

plant, with a number of others, reverses the usual order of nature,

and instead of forming food for animals, secures animal life, in

the shape of insects, for its own nourishment. A French writer has,

not inaptly, compared the pitcher of _Nepenthes_ to the bowl of a

German meerschaum pipe; and Mr Scott Elliott says: “I found the

pitchers to be usually from a third to half full of the decomposing

remains of insects. In almost every pitcher there were live worms,

apparently living on the remains. Among the insects I found thirteen

species of beetle, ten species of butterfly or moth, seven species of

hemiptera (aphides, water-beetles, etc.); four species of hymenoptera

(bees, wasps, ants, etc.), of which one was a sand-wasp, nearly an

inch long; twelve species of diptera (mosquitoes, flies, etc.), two

grasshoppers, two dragonflies, and one spider.” The water contained

in the pitchers apparently contains some acid or other solvent, by

which the insects are slowly digested by the plant; and from the

above account it will be seen what a great variety of insect life is

entrapped, including even the largest and strongest insects.

[Sidenote: A SUGAR-CANE PRESS]

On one of the afternoons when we were detained near Vangàindràno,

hearing a sugar-cane press at work at one end of the village, we went

to look at it in operation. Like many others we saw on this coast,

it consisted of a long hollowed-out trough, one end being left solid

for a foot or two, thus forming a slightly convex surface, with a

channel cut on either side for the expressed juice to run into the

trough. Over this and across it was a rounded tree trunk, seven or

eight feet long, with three short handles fixed into it; this is

turned backwards and forwards over small pieces of cane placed on

the convex surface, the juice being expressed by the mere weight of

the round trunk. The freshly expressed juice makes a pleasant drink;

after a day or two it begins to ferment, and is then much like fresh

cider; but it rapidly becomes too heady and intoxicating. A good deal

of _tòaka_ (rum) is made, and is a cause of much evil among the coast

tribes; but the people here appear not to understand the manufacture

of sugar. Their still is as rude a contrivance as their press; an

earthen pot to boil the juice, and a piece of iron piping fixed

through a vessel of cold water so as to condense the steam which

forms the spirit.

The people in this part of the country, who are called Taisàka, all

wear mats, as do the Tanàla and the Taimòro. To fasten the mat sack

about their waists, they use a girdle of bark cloth. Some of this

cloth (called _fànto_) is made by stripping off the bark of certain

trees, so that the whole comes off in one piece, forming a kind of

long bag, but open at each end. Another kind is made in a sheet of

about six feet long by four wide. It is prepared by being hammered

for a considerable time with a wooden mallet, the face of which is

cut in cross lines. This is chiefly women’s work. Very few of the

people had any garment made of woven cloth, indeed they seem to have

little, if any, knowledge of spinning or weaving. On the other hand,

they are clever in straw-work and in manufacturing mats and baskets.

[Sidenote: TAISÀKA HOUSES]

Their houses are very small, made of a slight framework and filled in

with the midrib of the leaves of the traveller’s tree in the same way

that the _zozòro_ (papyrus) is used in Imèrina, and looking almost

exactly like _zozòro_. These leaf-stalks, which are called _falàfa_,

are fixed together on long fine twigs so as to make a kind of stiff

mat, the triangular stems easily fitting in alternately. These mats

are the ordinary mattress, and are used in various other ways. One

of them forms the door on either side of the house, being shifted to

one side or another as required, and is kept from falling by sliding

within a pole hung from the framework. The flooring, which is always

raised above the ground, is made of the bark of the traveller’s tree,

pressed flat so as to form a rough kind of boarding; while the thatch

of every house is the leaves of the same tree, which forms a neat and

fairly durable covering. Here also, as among the other coast tribes

which we have seen, the traveller’s tree might be called with equal

or greater propriety, “the builder’s tree.” The hearth is at one end

of the house, in the centre, with a strong square framework above it,

having two or three rows of shelves. The _tràno àmbo_, or elevated

house for storing rice, seems common to every tribe we have visited

since leaving the Bétsiléo province. The villages here are arranged

in groups of from two to half-a-dozen in a line, and with only a

small space between each group.

The rice-fields in this flat swampy district have a very different

appearance to those in Imèrina or Bétsiléo; they are like immense

pits, in some places dug out to some depth in the sides of the low

elevations. The people do not transplant their rice, as do those

of the central provinces, but reap it where it has been sown. We

continually came across traces of volcanic action; ancient streams of

lava, conical-shaped hills and, on the coast, reefs of basalt rock,

gradually being broken up by the action of the waves. All this showed

that the great groups of extinct volcanoes in the central provinces

had their counterpart in these southern regions of the island.

Another interesting fact was, that we found unmistakable signs also

of Secondary rocks here on the coast, in stratified sandstone tilted

up at a very high angle.

[Sidenote: A MILITARY ESCORT]

A day and a half’s journey from Vangàindràno brought us to another

Hova military post, a town called Ankàrana, which is situated on

a ridge about four hundred feet above the general level of the

surrounding country, forming a striking feature in the landscape.

Ascending a slippery and steep road in the red clay, I found myself

at one o’clock on the top of the ridge and close to the stockaded

_ròva_, or Hova fort, a much larger place than I had expected to

see, as hardly anything of the town could be seen from below. Mr

Street, being ill with fever, had gone on before, while I brought up

the rear. Coming to the gate of the stockade, my men were about to

take me in at once, but the people near requested me to stop, as the

officers were coming out to escort me in. This I rather unwillingly

did, as a very heavy shower came on just then. Presently the rolling

of drums announced their approach. First came a file of soldiers,

then a number of officers, then the lieutenant-governor in palanquin,

and then the governor in ditto, a little active old man in regimental

red coat and cocked hat. They all came forward and shook hands, and

evidently it was intended that the queen should be saluted and polite

speeches made; but the rain pelted down so furiously just then that

they thought better of it, and we made our way through the double

stockade into the Hova town with its lines of houses, and then into

an inner stockade enclosing the government house and flagstaff and

several large houses. We took shelter under the raised verandah of

one of these, while a dozen unfortunate individuals, soldiers and

petty officers, had to stand out in the pouring rain and “present

arms,” “support arms,” etc., and then, of course, came inquiries

after the queen and the great people at their capital.

The governor then led me into the temporary _làpa_, a large

rough-looking room, where was a table spread with dishes, plates,

etc. He apologised for there being no meal ready for us, as our

coming was unexpected, but wine and biscuits were brought and we

drank the queen’s health, and they drank ours, a flourish of music

and drums following each toast. This extreme politeness, so soon

after the marked discourtesy shown us at Vangàindràno, astonished

and amused me not a little. I was gravely consulted as to whether

the royal flag might not be hauled down, as the day was so wet; I

accordingly graciously signified my approval of their doing so. As

soon as possible, I intimated that I would like to go and see my

friend and companion. The governor leading the way, I was taken to a

house at the far end of the enclosure, where I found Mr Street in bed

and very unwell. But the house was large and dry, a fire was burning

on the hearth, and we were glad to get our wet things dried. Several

of our men were also ill with fever, so I had my hands pretty full

with dispensing medicine and nursing. Besides this, numerous callers

had to be talked with and presents received.

[Sidenote: A NOISY DINNER]

A good part of the following day was occupied in conversation with

the native pastors, examining the school, teaching, singing, etc.

But soon after four o’clock in the afternoon the sound of music and

drumming in the courtyard told us that the time was approaching for

the feast they were going to give us, and presently the governor and

all his people came to fetch us. My companion was unable to go, but

I was led by the hand and had to receive all the honours. In the

open central space all the military force of the town, about five

and twenty soldiers, was drawn up, and the royal flag was flying. On

one side the ladies, the wives and daughters of the officers, were

arranged, dressed in their best; on the other side were row after

row of pots with fires under them, where the feast was being cooked.

There was a terrible din of drumming and music going on. After a

prayer, salutes, speech-making, including a long flourish of our

honour, and presentation of another immense heap of provisions, I

was again taken by the hand, and led into the government house for

the repast. I should add that the governor also gave us ten dollars

for _vàtsy_ (food by the way), counting them into my hand in English

numbers.

[Sidenote: A LONG MENU]

The dinner was, I think, the longest, and certainly _was_ the

noisiest, entertainment at which I have ever assisted. About a score

of the officers were at the table, and seven of the ladies. After

a long grace from the pastor, dinner was brought in, and consisted

of the following courses:—1st, curry; 2nd, goose; 3rd, roast pork;

4th, pigeons and water-fowls; 5th, chicken cutlets and poached eggs;

6th, beef sausages; 7th, boiled tongue; 8th, sardines; 9th, pigs’

trotters; 10th, fried bananas; 11th, pancakes; 12th, manioc; 13th,

dried bananas; and last, when I thought everything must have been

served, came hunches of roast beef! All this was finished up with

coffee. By taking a constantly diminishing quantity of each dish I

managed to appear to do justice to them all. Claret went about very

freely, and at length some much stronger liquor; and the healths of

the Queen, “Our friends the two Foreigners,” then those of the Prime

Minister, Chief Secretary, and Chief Judge, were all drunk twice

over, the Governor’s coming last; all followed by musical (and drum)

honours. As already remarked, it was the noisiest affair of the kind

at which I have ever been present. There was a big drum just outside

in the verandah, as well as two small ones, besides clarionets and

fiddles, and these were in full play almost all the time. Then the

room was filled by a crowd of servants and aides-de-camp, and the

shouting of everybody to everybody, from the governor downwards, was

deafening. The old gentleman directed everything and everyone, filled

up everybody’s glass, and, in fact, filled up his own more often than

was quite good for him, so that he became a little incoherent in the

last toasts he proposed; so that I was glad when the finishing one

arrived, and I could take my leave after nearly two hours’ sitting.

But I was not to leave quietly; again I was taken by the hand, the

big drum being hammered at in front of us all the way, and, followed

by a posse of officers and ladies, was escorted home by the governor.

My invalid friend could well have dispensed with the big drum;

however, being a little better, he and I managed to say a few earnest

words to them about “the praying”; after which they took their leave.

I had afterwards to pay quite a round of visits to our men who were

poorly, some with fever, others lame, with feet hurt with thorns,

stumbling, etc.

[Sidenote: A MELANCHOLY PARTING]

It was fine on the following morning, and as my companion’s fever

had left him, although he was still very weak, we determined to get

off; but first, there were more visits to be paid, and more presents

to be received. Mr Street left first at half-past nine, but I waited

until all the baggage was off, and then went to wish our old friend

the governor good-bye. But I was not to get away so easily; I was

again taken into the chief house, the claret was brought out, and

the Queen’s health and our own drunk with military honours. Then I

turned to say _Velòma_; but no, the vigorous old gentleman was going

to escort me out of town, and his wives were to accompany us. But

some time elapsed in seeking bearers for them, during which I had to

go to the lieutenant-governor’s and drink coffee. On returning to

the courtyard I found the governor putting a couple of bottles of

claret and another of rum into his palanquin, as well as glasses and

cups. Sufficient bearers could not be procured for the ladies, so we

wished them good-bye, and set off in the following order:—Soldiers,

musicians, with drums, clarionet, and violin; “_ny havantsika ny

Vazàha_” (our foreign friend); the lieutenant-governor; the governor;

aides-de-camp, soldiers. And so escorted, with the drums, etc., in

full play, we marched out of the town. I had supposed that as soon as

we were fairly at the foot of the hill the governor would take his

leave, but he went on and on for an hour until we came to a rapid

stream, the Mànantsìmba. Here we halted; the claret was poured out

for more health-drinking, with musical honours; and then the whole of

the governor’s men were ordered to take me safely across the river,

which they did. From the opposite bank I bowed and shouted my last

adieux, and so parted from one of the jolliest old gentlemen I have

ever met with in my travels. It struck me as irresistibly comic that,

as soon as we had fairly started on our way from the river bank, the

musicians struck up a most melancholy strain. As my men said, the

governor appeared to be low-spirited at parting with us.

I must add a word or two more about this “fine old _Malagasy_

gentleman, all of the olden time.” It appeared that he had been

governor at Ankàrana for more than twenty years, and before then was

lieutenant-governor at Mànanjàra. We were somewhat shocked to find

that each of the three buxom ladies who accompanied him about was his

wife, and further, that he had another as well, whom we did not see.

The pastor told us that he had been admonished as to the impropriety

of his conduct in this respect, but he had been unable as yet to make

up his mind which of them to put away, and which to keep, out of the

four. He seemed quite a little king in the district he commanded,

and our servants told us that he was a most courageous old fellow,

delighted to hear of there being any enemies to be met with anywhere,

and going off to fight them with the greatest alacrity. Yesterday,

when the feast was being cooked, he sat in the courtyard, gun in

hand, shooting first a fowl, then a pigeon, and then a pig, all of

which, in addition to what was already preparing, he ordered to be

instantly cooked with the rest. They also say that he is very rich,

owning five hundred cattle and two hundred slaves, and that he is

always most hospitable to all strangers. Certainly we found him to be

so. Besides the abundant kindness he showed us at Ankàrana, he sent

with us an escort and guides, twelve soldiers, two officers, and a

drummer, besides as many baggage bearers as we required to replace

the men who were ill.

We were interested to find that many of our bearers met with

relatives in these coast provinces. The mothers of several of them

were brought up from these parts as slaves, when children, in

Radàma’s cruel wars. The most remarkable circumstance was that our

cook discovered that one of the governor’s wives at Ankàrana was his

mother’s sister. And at the same place another of our men found that

the chief people of the Taisàka village were his mother’s brothers.

[Sidenote: PRIMITIVE DISHES AND SPOONS]

Our lodging on the evening of the day we left Ankàrana was in another

sample of the “well-dunged village,” although we procured a tolerably

good house in it. While taking lunch in one of the other villages,

we noticed the primitive dishes and spoons used by the people. The

former consist of the strong tough leaf of the pandanus-tree, which

is doubled over at one end so as to retain rice or liquid. The

spoons are pieces of the leaf of the traveller’s tree, folded up so

as easily to carry food to the mouth. This pandanus has a fruit,

yellow in colour, and something in shape and size like a pineapple

without its tuft of leaves. When dry it is brown in colour, and each

hexagonal division when separated from the rest is like a tough

wooden peg, and utterly uneatable.

[Sidenote: A FUNERAL MEMORIAL]

Outside a village called Iàboràno I noticed the first appearance of

anything like a funeral memorial we have seen since leaving Bétsiléo.

This consisted of four poles placed in a line, the two outer ones

higher than the others, and the inner ones pointed in a peculiar

fashion. These serve the same purpose as the upright stones called

_tsàngam-bàto_ in Imèrina. All through the Tanàla country and along

this south-eastern coast we have seen no graves or memorials of the

dead. I was told that each village has a large pit in, or on the

borders of, the forest, where the dead are thrown and are not covered

with earth. The corpses are wrapped in coarse matting made of rush.

CHAPTER XXI

THE SOUTH-EASTERN PEOPLES

On the Saturday afternoon we reached Ambàhy, a large village not far

from the sea, with a _ladoàna_ or custom-house. Here a detachment of

military awaited our arrival—viz. _four_ officers and _two_ soldiers,

but outside and inside the stockade rather more than the usual amount

of tedious ceremony was gone through, which was, however, amusing as

well, from the absurd costume of many of the performers.

On the Sunday, as my companion was still unwell, I took the services

entirely. The church was in the village on the other side of the

water, and in going over to service I had a sail for the first time

in a native-made _built boat_. These boats are here called _sàry_,

and are about thirty feet long by eight feet beam, and easily carry

fifty people. I examined with interest the construction of the

craft, for the planks, about eight inches broad, were _tied_, not

nailed together, by twisted cord of _anìvona_ palm fibre, one of the

toughest known vegetable substances, the holes being plugged with

hard wood. The seat boards came right through the sides, so as to

stiffen the whole, for there were no ribs or framework. The seams

were caulked with strips of bamboo, loops of which also formed the

rowlocks for large oars of European shape. The ends of the boat

curved upwards considerably, and from its appearance it seemed likely

to stand a heavy sea with perfect safety. These boats are made for

going out to the shipping, for no dug-out canoe could live in the

great waves constantly rolling along these shores.

From Ambàhy northwards there stretches a coral reef at a mile or

two’s distance from the beach, a white line of surf constantly

breaking over it. Along this part of the coast the vegetation of

pandanus is varied by a number of the tall graceful _filào_-trees

(casuarina), so common south of Tamatave. It was dusk before all

the baggage and our men were ferried over a small river, and as I

was the last I had a most unpleasant hour and a half in the dark,

floundering about in rice-fields and water, for our guides lost their

way, so that I thought we should have to take shelter under some bush

for the night. But at last we reached a good-sized village; two of

our men, however, got hopelessly astray and had to lie out all night

in the open. In the dark we several times thought we saw a lantern

coming to our aid, but it was only the beautiful little fireflies

dancing up and down in the bushes, a “will-o’-the-wisp” which

deceived us again and again. These flies do not give a continuous

light, but one which—like some lighthouses—is quenched every second

or two, the interval of darkness being longer than the time when the

light is visible.[30]

[Sidenote: CANOE CHANTS]

We were delayed on our journey one day by having to return and

search for a man who had been missing for a day or more. Leaving our

stopping-place before six in the morning, I took sixteen men, who

were divided into three parties to go in different directions. We did

not find him, but discovered where he was, and left him in charge

of some Hova officers to be sent on after us. I had two voyages

over the Màtitànana that day; the morning’s sail was delightful,

the water smooth as a mirror, and with a very large canoe and eight

or ten paddles we moved rapidly over the glassy surface. My men

began and sustained for some time several of their musical and

often amusing canoe chants, in which one man keeps up a recitative,

usually an improvised strain, often bringing in circumstances

recently happening, while the rest chime in with a chorus at regular

intervals, a favourite one being, “_E, misy và?_” (“Oh, is there

any?”). This question refers to various good things they hope to get

at the end of the day’s journey, such as plenty of rice, beef, sweet

potatoes, etc., these articles of food being mentioned one after

another by the leader of the song. A little delicate flattery of

their employer, the Englishman they are rowing, is often introduced,

and praises of his hoped-for generosity in providing these luxuries

for them, something in this style:

E, misy và? Oh, is there any?

E, misy rè! Oh yes, there’s some!

E, ny vorontsiloza, zalàhy, è! Oh, the turkeys, lads, oh!

E, misy rè! Oh yes, there’s some!

E, ny gisy matavy, zalàhy, è! Oh, the plump-looking geese, lads, oh!

E, misy ré! Oh yes, there’s some!

E, ny akoho manatody, zalàhy, é! Oh, the egg-laying fowls, lads, oh!

E, misy ré! Oh yes, there’s some!

E, ny vazaha be vola, zalàhy, é Oh, the very rich foreigner, lads, oh!

E, misy ré! Oh yes, here he is!

and so on, _ad libitum_.

In another song sung by men on this voyage, the chorus was, _Mandàny

vàtsy, Toamasina malaza é!_—_i.e._ “Consumes provisions for the way,

famous Tamatave O!”—while the recitative brought in all the different

villages on the journey from Tamatave to the capital, ending with

Avàra-dròva, the northern entrance to the palace yard. Our return

voyage was a rough one; there was a considerable swell, for the sea

breeze had set in very strongly, as is generally the case in the

afternoon along the east coast; and had I not had an unusually large

and good canoe, I dared not have ventured across the broad expanse of

water near the mouth of the river.

[Illustration: A MALAGASY ORCHID (Angræcum Superbum)

The blooms are pure white, waxlike flowers]

[Sidenote: MAGNIFICENT ORCHIDS]

While waiting for the canoe that afternoon I was delighted to see

the profusion of orchids along the shore. I had, of course, often

admired these on the trunks and branches of trees on the coast; but,

here, the magnificent _Angræcum superbum_ was growing by hundreds

on the ground, on good-sized bushes, which occurred in scores, the

large waxy-white flowers all in full bloom. It was worth a fatiguing

journey to see such a wealth of floral beauty. Here I may notice

that another fine orchid, the _Angræcum sesquipedale_, is also to be

seen in flower in the months of June and July on this eastern coast.

It is not so numerous in blooms as the other species, but its large

pure white flowers shine out like stars against the dark trunks of

the trees on which it grows. As its specific name signifies, its

remarkable spur or nectary is nearly a foot and a half long, pointing

to an insect with a very long sucking tube in order to reach the

honey stored there. There are several other species of _Angræcum_

found in Madagascar, but with smaller flowers than the two just

named. As Mr Baron remarks, “Whatever else may escape the notice of

the traveller, the _A. superbum_ forms far too striking an ornament

to be passed by unheeded.” And I think the same might almost be said

of the _sesquipedale_; of this latter Mr Baron says that it generally

chooses trees which overhang the rivers or lagoons as its habitat.

I have, however, noticed it at some distance from water.

Farther north along this coast there is a large proportion of trees

of considerable size, in addition to the pandanus and more shrubby

vegetation seen farther south. The latter also attain a much greater

height in the struggle to get up to the light amongst the crowd of

other trees. In one spot for some distance there was no undergrowth,

but “a pillared shade” of the slender trunks of the pandanus,

while high overhead their graceful crowns of long saw-edged leaves

made a canopy impervious to the sun. Among the larger trees one

called _atàfa_ (_Terminalia catappa_) is prominent; in these the

branches strike directly at right angles from the trunk and then

spread away horizontally for a considerable distance. The leaves

are spatula-shaped and from eight to ten inches long, and a large

proportion of them are always a ruddy brown or scarlet, giving a

blaze of colour. The tree is called also the “Indian almond,” and the

kernel of the fruit is edible. While waiting for a canoe, we walked

two or three hundred yards towards the outlet of a small river, and

were startled by a crocodile only a few feet in front of us, rousing

himself from his nap in the setting sunshine, and waddling off into

the river.

About seventy miles north of the Màtitànana river we came to an

extensive lagoon stretching northward for several miles. This

appeared to be the first—from the south—of that remarkable series

bordering the shore and extending with but few breaks nearly to

Tamatave, a distance of two hundred and sixty miles (see Chapter

III.). Along the northern side of this lagoon are masses of lava

rock, some of it in enormous blocks.

[Sidenote: THE TAIMÒRO TRIBE]

We found here that we had reached another centre of population, an

important settlement of the Taimòro tribe; the principal chief, a

very fine tall man, came to see us, and was extremely polite and

kind. We were amused to see his daughters, two nice little girls,

attended by all the other children of the village, who were going

through the peculiar monotonous native singing with clapping of

hands; while these two girls moved together slowly backwards and

forwards, and with a slow movement of their feet, and a graceful

movement of the hands, performed a native dance. They were strikingly

different from the other children in their dress, having scarlet

caps, with a long veil behind of coloured print, jackets of figured

stuff and a skirt of scarlet or a broad girdle of the same colour.

Afterwards they were mounted on the shoulders of two stout girls, who

went through the same performance with their feet, while the little

girls moved their hands and arms.

At a village where we stayed it was the custom that no bird or animal

could be killed for food except by someone belonging to the family of

the native king. This agrees with what is stated by Drury and other

early writers on Madagascar as to the customs of many tribes in the

south-west of the island.

[Sidenote: AN OBJECT OF WONDER]

On 22nd and 23rd July, Saturday and Sunday, we had two long and very

fatiguing journeys, the more so as our maps were of the vaguest

description, and we could get no accurate information as to distances

or villages; rice for our bearers was not at all easy to procure, and

when crossing rivers, a single canoe for fifty men and a quantity of

baggage often delayed us very seriously. On the Saturday morning we

met a wheeled vehicle, the first I had ever seen in Madagascar—viz. a

cart drawn by yoked oxen; this excited much wonder among our men. We

had to cross rivers or wide lagoons five times that day, so that late

in the afternoon we still saw no stopping-place. But as we understood

that there was a small village two or three hours farther on, and

that the road was along the shore, we thought we could not miss it

even if it was late. So we went along the sands; the sun set, and it

grew dark, but there was no sign of any village; then the path turned

inland among the bush, where we went on feeling our way for some

time. But at last we got hopelessly adrift in the dense vegetation

and total darkness. There was no help for it but to retrace our

steps to the shore, which we did, not without great difficulty. It

seemed highly probable that we should have to spend the night under

the trees, without food, fire, or light, as our baggage had gone

on ahead. Continually we mistook the light of the fireflies for a

lantern coming to our assistance; but still going on we saw at last

a light ahead, steadier and redder than that of the fireflies. Then

we lost it, but going on again we at length came up to the embers of

a fire lighted on the sand. Opposite was a path leading up to four

little huts, where most of our men had arrived, and where we got

better accommodation than the woods would have afforded, although

the huts were mere rough sheds of traveller’s tree leaves. It was

fortunate for us that we reached them, for heavy rain came directly

and continued all night. There was no rice to be bought; so our men

had to go supperless to bed, and we had very little to eat ourselves.

Some dozen or more of the men slept with us in our hut, as thick as

they could lie, and the other places were as full.

[Illustration: MALAGASY MEN DANCING

This consists of graceful movements of hands, body, and feet. Men and

women never dance together]

The following day, Sunday, was a disappointing one, for we quite

thought in the morning that we were only two or three hours’ journey,

at most, from Màsindràno, where we hoped to meet with a good

congregation. But we had to travel for hour after hour, delayed in

crossing the lagoons in a vain search for food, and in other ways, so

that it was sunset before we crossed the Mànanjàra river, and after

dark before we at last reached the town. However, here we met with

the kindest welcome, had good houses put at our disposal, and there

was abundance of food for us all.

[Sidenote: WHALES]

On the following day we left the seashore, along which, first going

southwards and afterwards northwards, we had travelled for so many

days. And here I may remark that dolphins are often seen in the

Madagascar seas, especially the small species called _Delphinus

pas_, which is frequently seen leaping, plunging and swimming with

astonishing swiftness and in large shoals. These animals love to

pursue the flying-fish, and in this chase they display extraordinary

dexterity. Two species of whale also frequent the seas round

Madagascar, but they are chiefly seen on the western side of the

island. The huge form of the cachelot or sperm-whale, with its

remarkably square head, looking as if it had been cut off right

across, especially when it turns to dive, as I have seen it, seems

to have impressed the imagination of the Malagasy, because when an

earthquake occurs they say, _Mivàdika ny tròzona_—_i.e._ “The whales

are turning over.”

After leaving the east coast we sailed up the broad river Mànanjàra,

stopping a night at another Hova military post, a large village

called Itsìatòsika. Here again we had great kindness shown to us by

the most polite and gentlemanly set of Hova officers we had ever

met. For the first day and a half our route lay chiefly up the

valley of the river, over undulating country; but during the next

two and half days we had to travel to the north-west, through the

belt of dense forest covering the lines of mountain which are the

successive steps into the bare interior highland. Through this rugged

country, travelling was very difficult, and the steep ascents very

fatiguing. As we got up a thousand feet, there was line after line

of hill and mountain, all covered with forest, as far as the eye

could reach, to the north and south and west. Besides the ordinary

forest trees, there were great numbers of the graceful palm called

_Anìvona_, which, in the struggle for light and heat, here grows to a

great height. As we have seen in speaking of the old style of timber

houses, this palm was made much use of in their construction. There

were magnificent and extensive views from the higher ground; and

conspicuous for a whole day’s journey was a lofty perpendicular cliff

of bright red rock, rising sheer up many hundreds of feet from the

valley below.

[Sidenote: A HEATHENISH FUNERAL]

A little before reaching the summit of one ridge we heard a good

deal of noise and shouting ahead of us, and supposed that the Tanàla

were dragging an unusually large piece of timber. On getting nearer,

we found fifty or sixty people, men and women, and a number of men

carrying something, which, coming closer to them, we found was a

child’s coffin, made of a piece of the trunk of a tree hollowed out,

and with a rough cover of wood fastened on with bands of a strong

creeper. This was being carried with a barbarous kind of chant,

but without the slightest sign of mourning on the part of anyone.

It was the most heathenish kind of funeral we had ever seen. Among

these forest people funerals are called _fàndrorìtam-pàty_ (_lit._

“stretching out of the corpse”), and it seems that the coffin is

pulled about first in one direction and then in another by the

different parties of those following it; and it is finally thrown

into some hollow in the woods. It was a saddening sight.

We found that we had come again among our old friends, the Tanàla,

for in their mats and undressed appearance, and their use of bark

cloth, the women in the villages were just like those we had seen

from Ivòhitròsa downwards.

Our second day in the forest brought us to a height of fourteen

hundred and fifty feet above the sea; and, notwithstanding our

fatigue from having to walk continually for several hours, we

were charmed again with the luxuriance of the vegetation. The

anìvona-palms shot up their slender columns, banded with lines of

white on dark green to heights of eighty to a hundred feet, and the

traveller’s trees were as lofty, in the fierce competition for life.

The tree-ferns spread out their graceful fronds over the streams; and

the _Vaquois pandanus_ carried its large clusters of serrated leaves

high overhead to get up to the light. In some places the woods were

very dense, and there was a green twilight as we passed along the

narrow path amongst the crowd of tall trunks. We were struck by the

intense silence of the forest; there was no sound of animal life, and

no voice of bird, or beast, or insect broke the oppressive stillness.

For six hours and a half we hardly saw a house except isolated

woodcutters’ huts; and we were glad at last to see the sparkling

waters of the Mànanjàra in front of us, and to find a village of

twenty houses on its banks.

[Sidenote: THE CICADA]

Although in the cold season, which was the time of our journey, the

woods were very silent, they are not so at all times of the year,

and among the sounds of the forest we must not omit one which, once

heard, can never be forgotten—viz. the extremely shrill piercing note

of the _Jorèry_, a cicada, which makes the woods ring again with its

stridulous reverberations. If it should happen that two or three

of these little creatures are giving out their sound together, the

jarring, ringing noise becomes almost painful to the ear; and it is

difficult to believe that such a loud noise can be produced from the

friction of the wing-cases of such a comparatively small insect, for

it does not exceed an inch and a half in length.

On rainy nights a stridulous sound, but far less loud than that

produced by the jorèry, is heard in and near the forest, and is

produced by a large species of earthworm called _Kànkandoròka_. It

somewhat resembles the noise of a rattle, and is far from unpleasant

to the ear.

[Sidenote: THE SILENCE OF THE WOOD]

Yet it would be a mistake to suppose that these comparatively silent

woods are destitute of animal life, and the stillness is largely

attributable to the peculiar character of the Madagascar fauna.

Many of the lemurs are nocturnal animals and are therefore not seen

or heard in the daytime. Then again, the twenty-four species of

centetidæ are burrowing animals, and so do not often appear in the

open. And it is much the same with the sixteen species of rats and

mice, which live in the woods and on their borders. In confirmation

of the above remarks as to the animal life of the forest, it may be

stated that in the latter part of the year 1894, and the beginning of

1895, Dr Forsyth Major, the eminent naturalist and palæontologist,

lived for several months collecting in the woods not very far from

the route we followed about eighteen years previously; and his

specimens of recent mammals amounted to no fewer than sixteen hundred

specimens, which added _twenty species_ to those previously known.

These were chiefly in the tenrecs and the rats, but also included

a new species of lemur. Some of these forms were exceptionally

interesting, one being aquatic and web-footed; and others showed

transitions from a hairy to a spiny condition in closely allied

animals, suggesting that the prickly state had been gradually

attained for purposes of defence. Several of the centetidæ, of the

genus _Oryzorictes_, feed largely on rice, as their generic name

denotes, and do much damage to the crops. This is equally true of

the indigenous rats and mice. We have seen how the forest and coast

Malagasy protect their rice stores by elevated houses, with special

precautions against these little marauders.

It should be added that Dr Major’s unprecedentedly large collections

would probably have been larger still but for the disturbed state

of the country at that time. It was during the early months of the

French invasion and subsequent conquest of Madagascar, when the

feeling against all Europeans was very strong; so that again and

again Dr Major was in considerable danger of his life. Besides adding

so largely to our knowledge of the living fauna of the island, he

made large collections of the sub-fossil fauna, in collections of the

remains of the extinct æpyornis, hippopotami, tortoises, crocodiles,

and other animals, finding bones of several of the smaller mammals

which he afterwards discovered to be still living.

[Illustration: A WOMAN OF THE ANTÀNKÀRANA TRIBE N.W. MADAGASCAR

She is in full gala costume]

[Illustration: WOMAN OF ANTANÒSY TRIBE, S.E. MADAGASCAR

She is got up in all her finery]

[Sidenote: BIRD LIFE IN MADAGASCAR]

With regard to the silence of the wood just spoken of, and the

apparent dearth of animal life, it must be remembered that, in

addition to the character of the mammalian fauna above-mentioned,

our journey was made in the cold season, when all life is much less

in evidence. As we have seen in the chapters VIII. and IX.,

speaking of the forest, it is by no means destitute of bird life

during the warm months of the year. And yet I have never been able

satisfactorily to account for the _comparative_ fewness of birds in

Madagascar, notwithstanding the number of species. It can hardly

be from want of appropriate food, for the great variety of trees

and shrubs must surely supply sufficient in the way of fruits and

berries and seeds, to say nothing of caterpillars, and insects in

various stages of development. My friend, Mr Cory, an enthusiastic

naturalist and sportsman, wrote to me: “I think the want of bird life

in Madagascar is very marked when compared with England, and I was

much struck with this on my first arrival. I have been in the forest

at all times of the year; and although there _are_ a good many birds

in summer, yet if you try bird’s-nesting here, you will soon find out

how few and far between the nests are.” I have sometimes thought that

these facts may be partly explained by the rather large proportion of

rapacious birds in Madagascar to the general air-fauna—twenty-two,

as compared with two hundred and ten species known to inhabit the

island; for, leaving out the twenty-eight species of oceanic birds,

we have nearly a seventh of the birds belonging to rapacious kinds,

a proportion which would be still greater if we reckon, as we might

well do, several of the eight species of shrikes as rapacious. As we

shall see in the next chapter, there appear to be a far larger number

of birds on the western side of the island than are found in the

eastern forests.

With regard to the paucity of insect life in the forest, I think it

has been clearly shown by eminent naturalists like Dr Wallace and

the late Mr Bates, that _dense_ wood is not favourable to such life;

but that in open spaces in the forest, where sunshine can penetrate,

and where there is also water, there is where you may hope to find

butterflies, moths, and various handsome flies, bees and wasps; while

patches of cleared forest and felled trees are the most favourable

hunting-grounds for the numerous species of beetle and also of ants.

In travelling from the east coast to Imèrina seventeen years later

than this journey, on a route about eighty miles north of that

described in this chapter, we found numerous butterflies, a dozen

species at least, in some localities; and the voice of birds was

heard all along the road, the noisy call of the _Kankàfotra_ cuckoo,

_kow-kow, kow-kow_, constantly repeated; the mellow flute-like call

of another cuckoo, the _Tolòho_, whose notes we heard all the way

from Màhanòro; the chirp and whistle of the _Railòvy_, or king-crow,

as well as the incessant twitter of many smaller birds. Then came

frequently the wailing notes of the lemurs high up among the trees.

This, however, was in November, when the hot season was advancing.

[Sidenote: PROTECTIVE COLOURING]

In our walks in the forest from the Ankèramadìnika Sanatorium

(Chapters VIII. and IX.), we saw, it will be remembered, many cases

of protective colouring. As we are again in the eastern forests, the

following instances may also be noted. There is found in these woods

a curious walking-stick mantis, about eight inches long and a quarter

of an inch thick. It is exactly the colour of a dried branchlet or

twig, with joints distinctly articulated like the nodes of many

plants. The tail (if the end of the creature may be thus called) is

rather more than an inch long, and is a hollow, canoe-shaped trough,

somewhat resembling part of the bark torn off a twig. The legs are

alate and spiny. At about two inches from the head are the wings and

wing-sheaths, the latter being somewhat like obovate stipules about

half-an-inch long, and the former marked with black and yellow and

about an inch and a half long. When the wings are closed, it would

take a very keen eye to discover the creature, as the part of the

wing when closed is of the same colour as the rest of the body. The

legs can be brought together lengthwise in front, and so appear to

form a continuous part of the twig, especially as the femurs are

hollowed out to form a socket for the head.

Another singular creature, a kind of springtail, known as

_Tsikòndry_, is found on the branches of certain trees. The tail,

which is about half-an-inch long—a little longer than the body of

the insect—is a remarkable and curious appendage. This tail consists

of a tuft of white threads, somewhat divided and fluffy at the tip,

and which, at the pleasure of the insect, can be raised or lowered

or spread out, the threads radiating in a circle from the root. This

tail is so exactly like a lichen in appearance as thoroughly to

deceive the eye. Unless a branch on which a number of these tsikòndry

are seated is accidentally shaken, causing them to spring off, they

would be passed by as lichens. The leap or spring is effected by a

jerk of the tail.

[Sidenote: PREVOST’S BROADBILL]

I have already pointed out somewhere in this book that Madagascar

is a kind of museum of several forms of animal life found nowhere

else in the world; for among mammals there are some of the lemuridæ,

especially the aye-aye; also some of the centetidæ; among the

insects, the uranid butterfly; while there are several birds, which

are isolated, having no near relation, so that new genera, and even

new families, have had to be formed for their classification. Among

these latter, and inhabiting the eastern forests, is Prevost’s

broadbill (_Euryceros prevosti_). The zoological affinities of

this remarkable bird were for long a puzzle to ornithologists; but

it is so different from the wood-swallows, starlings and shrikes,

which groups are nearest to it, that the French naturalists have

formed a special family (_Eurycerotidæ_) for this solitary genus

and species. This bird is remarkable for a beak formed like a very

capacious helmet, strongly compressed and swelled towards the base,

which advances to just as far as the eyes; and its very convex

edge is terminated by a sharp hook. This extraordinary form of the

beak is seen best in the skeleton, in which the beak is seen to

be considerably larger than the skull. The bird is as large as a

starling, velvety black in colour, with a saddle-shaped patch of

light brown on the back. The large beak is steely-blue in colour, and

pearly, like the inside of an oyster shell. Such specialised birds—as

well as the other peculiar forms of life—speak of high antiquity and

of the long isolation of their habitat from continental influences.

Four or five days of hard travelling brought us to Ambòhimànga,

_an-àla_, so called to distinguish it from the old Hova capital of

the same name, north of Antanànarìvo. As on many previous occasions,

we had long delays in crossing rivers, from the fewness and smallness

of the canoes available. We were detained for three hours crossing

the Mànanjàra, which, although so far from the sea, was still a wide

river, with a powerful current and full of rapids and rocks. We had

time to notice and examine carefully a graceful plant which covered

the stones in the water; this looked like a fern—but is not one—from

one to two feet long and with very thick and fleshy stem and fronds.

On examining one of these, I found it to be the home of a variety

of minute animals; some of them caterpillars, which were burrowing

into the stalk; others, small green creatures like caddis-worms, but

with a transparent shell; others, minute leeches; others like the

fresh-water hydra; with several other kinds, all finding house and

provision on one frond in the rushing waters.

[Sidenote: A TANÀLA CHIEFTAINESS]

This “forest Ambòhimànga” was the home of Ihòvana, the Tanàla

chieftainess of the tribe of the surrounding district, who, with

her husband, was most kind and friendly, and I believe a sincere

Christian. She was a remarkably stout old lady, getting grey, and

a woman of considerable ability and force of character. On special

occasions, when the Malagasy nobles and tributary chiefs were

summoned up to the capital, Ihòvana would appear in the public

assembly, and with _làmba_ girded round her and spear in hand, would

give assurances of loyalty and obedience to Queen Rànavàlona, and say

“she was not a woman, but a man,” and would fight, if need be, at the

head of her people in defence of their sovereign.

The situation of this place is exceedingly pleasant, on a hill about

two hundred feet above the river flowing to the east and north.

Around it are hills covered with bamboo, while to the lines of hill,

the edges of the upper plateau are dark with forest. Here we and our

bearers were glad to rest for a couple of days, including a Sunday,

during which we were glad to find that these northern Tanàla, through

Christian teaching and Ihòvana’s influence, had made wonderful

advances compared with those farther south. There was a congregation

of about three hundred, a school of about as many children, and nine

village congregations connected with the central church here.

On the Monday morning, on leaving Ambòhimànga, we had to cross the

river at the foot of the hill, and this made the _thirtieth_ time

we had to be ferried across a river with all our men and property,

and glad we were that it was the last. A description of our water

conveyances would include bamboo rafts, canoes great and small,

especially the latter, canoes with one end rotted away or broken off,

and stuffed with clay, and craft so small that they seemed rather

fitted for children’s playthings than for business. The forest became

thinner as we travelled to the north-west, and this was due to the

custom of the Tanàla, who cut down the woods and sow the rice in

the ashes of the trees which have been burnt; for the people do not

plant much in one place, but remove their village to another spot

after getting a crop or two. This morning we lost the traveller’s

tree, which does not grow at heights much above two thousand feet

above the sea; and in the afternoon we also lost sight of the

graceful bamboo.

The following morning brought us to steep ascents of nine hundred and

fifty feet, of four hundred and twenty, and then of six hundred feet

successively, the last bringing us to Ivòhitràmbo (lofty town), well

named, for it has a most elevated situation and higher than a good

deal of the interior table-land to the west. I had noticed all the

previous afternoon that on the very summit of the highest ground to

the north was a lofty cone of rock. Perched upon this like an eagle’s

nest was part of the village, the rest of the houses being a hundred

and forty feet lower. The summit was forty-seven hundred and fifty

feet above the sea; we were now on the high land of the interior and

had come up twenty-four hundred and fifty feet since we breakfasted.

As may be supposed, the view was most extensive; the plains of

North Bétsiléo were not far distant, and soon we came to the long

bare rolling downs of the central provinces. Uninteresting as these

generally appear after four or five months without rain, they looked

home-like, and the keen air seemed bracing and invigorating. We

began to see rice-fields again and the scattered round _vàla_ of the

Bétsiléo. We had got into the country of a different tribe of people,

with different houses, speech and customs. At the village where we

stopped for the night was a good timber house, with elaborately

carved central pillars, and we began to see again the carved memorial

posts, which had so much interested us on our journey south.

[Sidenote: PECULIAR TOMBS]

We noticed again the peculiar tombs of the Bétsiléo; these, which

consist of a large square of stones, are not, as in Imèrina, the real

burial-places; for the actual tomb is often twenty feet below the

ground, a stone chamber, to which access is gained by a long inclined

passage opening out at a distance of eighty or a hundred feet from

the tomb.

And now, as we reached the oft-trodden route between Antanànarìvo and

Fianàrantsòa, this record may come to a close. We arrived safely at

the capital on 5th August, having been away nearly eleven weeks, and

having travelled by palanquin, on foot, and in canoes, more than

nine hundred miles.

[Sidenote: FIREFLIES]

[30] These fireflies are not seen in the interior except in two or

three localities, where portions of the original forest still cover

the mountains on which old towns were built. I have seen them at

Vòhilèna, a hill about fifteen hundred feet high, near the valley of

the Mànanàra river, in North Imèrina.

CHAPTER XXII

TO SÀKALÀVA LAND AND THE NORTH-WEST

As the contents of former chapters in this book show, I was able

on various occasions during the first few years of residence in

Madagascar to make journeys in different directions: from the east

coast to the interior; from Imèrina to Antsihànaka; from Imèrina

again to Bétsiléo and from thence to the south-east, visiting the

Tanàla, the Taimòro, and other tribes in that part of the island, not

to mention shorter journeys in the central province itself, to Itàsy

and other places. But the north-west of the country and the districts

occupied by the Sàkalàva people were still unknown to me, so I was

glad when in 1877 there came the opportunity of traversing this

portion of the great island.

For a long time past Tamatave had been—as it still is—the most

frequented port of Madagascar, but the western ports, from their

proximity to South Africa, were sure to increase in importance. Not

very long before the above-mentioned date, the British India Steam

Navigation Company had begun a service of steamers from Aden to

Mozambique, touching at Mojangà, on the north-west coast, both on

the outward and the return journeys. This appeared to give Europeans

living here a good opportunity of reaching England, avoiding the

unpleasant experience of the “bullocker” (see Chapter II.), between

Tamatave and Port Louis, and taking a mail steamer direct from

Madagascar. As we were leaving this country for Europe in September

1877, we determined to take this new route, which, although a little

longer than that by Tamatave, was far less difficult, besides being

partly by canoes, and the last day or two by a dhow, thus giving

a pleasant variety to the journey. Our party consisted of seven,

including my wife and self and three children—Willie, aged six; May,

aged three, and a baby girl of ten months—Frank Briggs, about the

same age as our boy, whom we were taking home (his father joined us a

day or two later), and my former fellow-traveller, Mr Louis Street.

I ought also to include a Mozambique nurse, one of those African

slaves recently set free, in accordance with an agreement made

between the English and the Malagasy governments.

We left Antanànarìvo on Thursday afternoon, 13th September, a large

number of our missionary friends accompanying us for a distance out

of the city, in fact as far as the banks of the Ikòpa, along which

our route lay for several miles. Here one could not but be again

impressed with the importance of these river banks in preserving the

rice-fields from being flooded, and by the good work done by the old

kings of Imèrina in embanking the river and thus turning marsh and

bog into fruitful fields. Stopping at the L.M.S. mission station

of Ambòhidratrìmo for the first night of our journey, we reached

the station of Fihàonana in Vònizòngo on the second day, putting up

at the manse, although the minister (Rev. T. T. Matthews) and his

family were away from home. A short half-day’s ride brought us to a

third mission station, that at Fierènana, where we had a Sunday’s

rest before setting out on the unknown and principal portion of our

journey. We stayed in the house which, a year or two before then,

I had marked out for our friends, and recalled how I had taught

Mrs Stribling to lay bricks, to bond together the corners of the

walls, to manage the chimney breasts, etc., so that she became quite

proficient and was able to teach the native workmen bricklaying,

which was then to them an unknown art.

[Sidenote: ATTRACTIONS OF A MARKET]

On Monday morning we fairly started on our journey away from mission

stations and Europeans. Two hours’ ride brought us to a large market

where hundreds of people were assembled. We were set down and, before

we knew what our men were about, were left almost without a bearer,

it being too great a temptation for our fellows not to go into the

thick of a market; and it was some little time before we could get

hold of them to carry us into the village near the place. All this

day’s journey was up a long wide valley enclosed by lines of hills,

which gradually approached as we proceeded; and our evening halt

was in a village covered with a layer of finely powdered cow-dung,

although the village chapel, our usual inn on such journeys, provided

a fairly comfortable resting-place for the night.

Outside this village the following morning we passed a shoe—or

rather sandal—market, with scores of pairs of rough bullock-hide

sandals for sale. I noticed also that everyone we passed carried a

pair fastened to his or her burdens. Although we had to go up and,

of course, down again, a long ascent, the route was less difficult

and fatiguing than are those we often traversed in Imèrina, and far

less so than the roads to the eastern coast through the forest. The

increasing temperature told us that we were getting to a lower level;

indeed all the western side of Madagascar is hotter than the eastern

side, as it is deprived of the cool south-east trade-wind from the

Indian Ocean. At the village where we stopped for the night, all the

dwelling-houses were made of the gigantic bamboo-like grass called

_bàraràta_, although the school church which served us for a lodging

was of clay. The place had a double entrance gateway, one of them

being a low narrow tunnel; and like most of these villages had a

great quantity of cattle brought into it, for security every evening.

In consequence, the whole place was covered with a foot or two of

manure; and it was here that our friend, Mr Grainge, stopping for the

night the previous year, had an experience which I will give in his

own words.

[Sidenote: AN UNSAVOURY CAMPING PLACE]

“On entering,” he says, “we raised a considerable amount of dust

and general astonishment; for wishing to pitch our tent inside

the village, we set a few of our men to sweep away the filth from

the cleanest spot we could select. You may guess the result. I

first tried to get to the windward of the horrible cloud, but not

being able to find that desirable quarter, as there happened to

be no wind at the time, I sent a man to fetch water and then ran

away until the atmosphere cleared. I had better have stopped, for,

running through the first hole in the entrenchment of the village,

I heard a cry of ‘_Omby ó!_’ (‘The cattle!’), and saw the head of

an ox, closely followed by his tail, coming through the gap. As the

people evidently expected to see me run, I stood my ground with

true British pig-headedness and waited in the narrow ditch for the

big beast to pass; but this one was closely followed by another,

and that by a third—the whole of the herds were coming in for the

night, and the fosse was soon as full of oxen as of dust. There was

no escape; grunting, puffing, blowing, and bellowing, in they came,

and with nothing but bare hands to smack them, I was hustled and

jostled, bumped and butted, pushed and driven about, until, after

three-quarters of an hour, I came out in company with the last

calf, choked with dust, streaming with perspiration, and inwardly

vowing that the very next time I heard the cry of ‘_Omby ó!_’ I

would run for it, however undignified it might appear.”

As we were walking about just before sunset, they brought us a

chameleon, here called _taròndro_ (_Dicranosaura bifurca_), about

nine inches long and as much more in length of tail; it was dark

brownish-grey in colour, with a white line along the sides, and the

head and back serrated like a saw. The nose of the male has two

compressed long horns covered with large scales. As we have already

seen, Madagascar contains a considerable number of these reptiles,

especially of species with remarkable processes on the head.

[Sidenote: AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT]

After arranging for the night, we congratulated ourselves on our

comfortable lodgings, but there was a drawback in the number of

openings to the outer air, two doorways and three windows, but all

destitute of doors or shutters. Mats, rugs, waterproof sheeting and

pillows were, however, fixed up; but soon after the wind rose until

it blew quite a gale; it was like being in a ship at sea, and it

blew so violently as to tear away the coverings from the nails. For

an hour or two paterfamilias’ chief occupation was to go round the

place and fix nail after nail, until I think at least a hundred long

tin tacks, as well as a number of two-inch nails, had been driven

in, besides propping up palanquins against the openings. Often it

came in such tremendous gusts that I feared everything would be torn

away, and lay for some time apprehensive of what might happen next.

However, it moderated towards morning, and, happily, there were no

mosquitoes.

We had not got far on our way the following day before making

acquaintance with the _mòkafòhy_, an insect about half the size of a

housefly, but with wings less divergent. They have a large proboscis

and give a distinct prick, sometimes drawing blood, and with

after-irritating effects like mosquito bites. They are more sluggish

than mosquitoes and so can be more easily killed, and with a small

whisk of leaves it is not very difficult to ward them off. The road

was still along a valley with precipitous hills on our left, and

perpendicular faces of rock. All along were clumps of adàbo-trees,

making the scenery much like an English park. We noticed a large

number of earthen mounds, often two and a half feet high; these were

the nests of a large ant, which, like those we met on the eastern

side of the island, is said to kill a serpent which makes its home in

the lower part of the ant-hill. The native travellers often use these

mounds as a fireplace for cooking their rice, by knocking off the

top, scooping out the centre, and making a hole near the bottom for

draught.

The route continued to be very easy travelling, with gentle ascents

and one long one, following generally river valleys; and in the

afternoon along a river bank for some distance, with pretty scenery

of pandanus, adàbo, dracæna and other trees growing in clumps. This

last-named tree, called _hàsina_ by the Malagasy, is believed to be

a favourite with the Vazìmba, the supposed aboriginal inhabitants

of the island, and was consequently planted where their graves are

and where their spirits are thought to dwell in order to secure

their good will. The leaves, which are sword-shaped, grow in large

clusters, so that the tree makes a beautiful variety amongst other

foliage.

[Sidenote: A DESERT]

We stopped on Wednesday night at a large village called Màngasoàvina,

and the next morning passed along the eastern base of Andrìba, a

lofty and very peculiarly shaped mountain, which had been prominent

before us during the preceding day. It appeared to have a large flat

top, and in outline resembled the stump of an immense tree left in

the earth, its northern face being a stupendous perpendicular mass

of rock. (Here I may remark, in parenthesis, that this Andrìba was

expected, in the French war of 1895, to have presented the most

formidable obstacle to the advance of an invading force and, in the

hands of European troops, would certainly have done so.) In the

afternoon we entered on the part called in Malagasy, _èfitra_, or

desert, but which simply means an uninhabited region, and seemed to

promise to be the most pleasant part of the whole route. A long deep

gorge which we entered was beautiful with luxuriant vegetation, and

in one of the lateral valleys I soon perceived the traveller’s tree,

a sure sign that we were now from two thousand to three thousand feet

lower than Imèrina. Every hollow was filled with trees; the hills

became lower, and the vegetation more distinctly tropical, with

graceful palms and other trees common on the eastern coast; as well

as species of ficus, ròtra (_Eugenia sp._), hibiscus, tamarind and

_rofìa_ palms; and the mango, escaped from cultivation, often attains

the dimensions of a very large tree.

[Sidenote: A PICTURESQUE SCENE]

Early on Thursday afternoon we came down to a river, called

Màrokalòy, where our bearers wished us to encamp, but we feared both

mosquitoes and consequent malaria in such a situation, and ascended

a low hill about a hundred and fifty feet above the river. Here we

pitched our tents, and after arranging for the night sat down to

our evening meal round a mat in the bright moonlight. It was a very

picturesque scene: the brilliant moon and the four chief planets

shining resplendently; our group of men near the tents lighted up by

the ruddy glare of the cooking fires; while down below, the greater

body of our men had encamped and had a score or two of fires blazing

under the dark shade of fine large trees. The night was so warm that

there was no inconvenience sitting out of doors, while in the tents

it soon grew so hot that we were glad to keep out of them as long as

possible. But what surprised us most was the almost entire absence of

mosquitoes; for there was no garden in Imèrina where one could sit

for five minutes at such an hour without being soon informed of the

presence of these tiny pests. It must, however, be added that for

an hour or two before sunset, and for a little after it also, the

_mòkafòhy_ were extremely numerous and annoying. They persecuted us

incessantly while encamping, but happily, unlike their namesakes,[31]

they retire at dark. By a merciful dispensation of providence they

do not bite at night. After our _al fresco_ meal, Mr Street and I

descended to the river and enjoyed a delicious bathe.

The following morning we were up early, but the _mòkafòhy_ were up

before us and made it a misery to do anything immediately we emerged

from the tent. Getting breakfast was therefore disposed of in a

very short space of time, for mouth, nostrils, and eyes got full of

these detestable little flies; one could not eat, and we hurried the

children into their palanquins and got off as fast as was possible.

The name of this pretty valley (Màrokalòy = “Many _alòy_”) ought to

have warned us, as _alòy_ is the proper name of the insect, and this

place seems to be their head-quarters. The scenery and the route

continued to be as pleasant and as easy as before; every hollow was

filled with vegetation of a tropical character, and streams of bright

water crossed our path every few hundred yards.

[Sidenote: ABUNDANT BIRD LIFE]

Bird life seems much more abundant on this western side of the

island than on the east. Black parrots exist in great numbers and

may be heard screeching all the day long. But perhaps the birds

which are more numerous still are the small green and white parakeet

(_Sàrivàzo_), which fly about from tree to tree in large flocks,

all ceaselessly chirping during their rapid flight. My friend, Mr

Baron, says: “A flock of them settling on a bare tree gives it the

appearance of being covered with foliage. On one or two occasions

what we thought were the leaves of trees suddenly disappeared,

leaving the branches entirely bare. The ‘leaves’ turned out to be

parakeets.” Guinea-fowl, in flocks of six to a dozen, are also

abundant. The handsome long-tailed green _Tsìkirìoka_ (the Madagascar

bee-eater) is found here, and builds its nest in holes in sand-banks;

some of these run in a horizontal direction for above a yard. A

very pretty hoopoe (_Tàkodàra_) may occasionally be seen, a bird

which is extremely active and graceful in its movements. It gives

forth five or six very weird notes, as it sits on a tree during the

night. A species of sand-grouse, called _Gàdragàdraka_, a bird of a

beautiful fawn-colour, much like a pigeon in general appearance, may

often be heard. Like many other native bird names, this name is very

expressive of its chuckling. Many of the birds found in the central

parts of the island exist also here, while there are also others

peculiar to this western region.

Part of our fifth and the whole of our sixth and last day’s land

journey was taken at no great distance from the Ikòpa river; and I

began to wonder where the western forest-belt was; for, as we have

seen, we had passed through no such masses of dense forest as must

be crossed anywhere on the eastern side of the island when one comes

up to the interior of Madagascar. The fact seems to be that there is

no such continuous wooded region on the western side. There is, in

many places, a considerable amount of country covered with forest,

but these are not connected, and a great deal of the surface has

scattered clumps of trees. In the same way also, there are nothing

like the difficult ascents and deep gorges to be crossed on this

route such as are described in Chapters IV. and V. The descent

to the level western plains is gradual; so that a railway to the

north-west ports, along the valleys of the Ikòpa and Bétsibòka

rivers, would, although longer, present very much less engineering

difficulty than that from Tamatave to the capital.

[Sidenote: A DIFFICULT PROBLEM]

On Saturday morning we came to the bank of the Ikòpa, which river

is at some points half-a-mile or more wide, but then at its lowest

level, being apparently very shallow, but so interrupted everywhere

with shelves of rock that it would be difficult for even a small

canoe to make its way far. There were numerous islands, covered with

bamboo, bàraràta, _rofìa_-palms and other vegetation. From a low hill

we had a view over an immense expanse of flat country on the western

side of the river. Only here and there was the level broken by a

line of hills of small elevation. After leaving the Ikòpa we found

ourselves in a very different kind of country from any we had yet

passed through, a succession of low hills or mamelons of dry sandy

gravel, with hardly any vegetation, and looking as if no rain had

fallen upon it for years. In the afternoon I noticed that a large

number of granite boulders were strewn over the country, and could

hardly doubt that these, from their rounded forms, but especially

from the absence, as far as I could see, of any such rock _in situ_,

must by some means or other have been transported from the granitic

region of the interior far to the eastward. Must this not have been

glacier or iceberg action? Although it is difficult to understand

such agency in the tropics.

Ten years after making the journey, my friend, Mr Baron, in

travelling across the island towards the north-west coast, but about

a hundred and twenty miles farther north, came across isolated

rocks, which were quite different in composition from anything near

them. Of these he said: “I could think of no agent to account for

their occurrence but that of glacial action. They seemed to me to be

perched blocks, as there was no hill near from which they could have

fallen, nor any rock of the kind _in situ_.” I was interested to find

that an expert in Madagascar geology like Mr Baron had come to the

same conclusion as myself with regard to these granite boulders.

Early in the afternoon we arrived at Mèvatanàna, the most important

place in this part of the country, with about a hundred houses; it

had, however, been quite recently burnt down, but was in process of

rebuilding. The houses seemed rather larger than those in Imèrina,

made of round-pole framework, filled in with _bàraràta_ stems, the

roofs of _rofìa_-palm leaf-stalks and thatched with grass. We secured

a new house, not quite finished; and as this was very like a large

birdcage, besides having no doors in the three doorways, we put up

the tent on one side, piled up our heavy luggage against another of

the doorways, and hung a rug over the third, so as to make ourselves

less of a public spectacle.

We were glad of the Sunday’s rest after our week of continuous

travelling, and that we had _not_ “to shift our moving tent” that

morning, but could let beds and baggage, boxes and bottles, and pots

and pans rest in peace. We had large and attentive congregations in

the native church morning and afternoon, Mr Briggs and I taking the

services. Our dwelling, although perfect as regards ventilation,

was certainly not cool, and we all were suffering somewhat from the

mosquito bites on the journey. We were as much stared at by the

“natives” as if we had been a kind of wild animal, a wondering, if

not admiring, crowd unpleasantly blocking up the one doorway left

open—in fact, we formed an apparently popular exhibition, open,

Sundays not excepted, for a limited period only.

[Sidenote: OUR CANOES]

We were astir very early on the Monday morning, for there was a large

amount of work to be got through before we could start on our canoe

voyage. We got away from the town before seven, and half-an-hour’s

ride brought us down to the river, where we found six large canoes,

four of which were being loaded with our luggage. When everything

had been arranged, we had to pay all our men, only about ten going

through with us to Mojangà; and a few others had to be engaged in

addition to row the canoes and help in various ways. About nine

o’clock we got away and began our four days’ voyage down the Ikòpa.

It was a pleasant change from the jolting of the palanquin to the

smooth gliding of the canoe. These vessels were about forty feet

long; and the one in which we went was three feet six inches beam,

and two feet six inches deep, and had three paddlers, besides one

at the stern to steer; as we were going down with the current, more

men were not necessary. Two of the palanquins with their hoods were

placed in our canoe, for wife, nurse and little girls, while the

little boys, in their palanquin, went in another one with Mr Street

and Mr Briggs.

[Sidenote: CROCODILES]

The shores of the river are exceedingly pretty, although there was

nothing grand or striking. They are flat, but beautifully wooded, the

great _bàraràta_ grass, with its light grey feathery head of flowers,

giving quite a character to the scenery. Islands are numerous, some

being mere sand-banks, but many covered with trees and bush. We soon

made acquaintance with the crocodiles, for there was one basking in

the sunshine on a sand-bank just opposite our starting-place. We saw

a good many of them during the day, although not as many as other

travellers have observed, perhaps from twenty to thirty, and some

of them quite near enough to be seen very distinctly. Most of them

were light grey in colour, but others slaty, and others again spotted

with black; they varied in length from seven or eight to fourteen or

fifteen feet. The head is small, and the back and tail serrated like

a great pit-saw. They were generally lying with the jaws wide open,

and sometimes were near enough to be splashed by the paddles as we

passed them. The heat on the river was much less than when travelling

on the land, or at Mèvatanàna; a delightful breeze blew against us

all day, and we enjoyed the change immensely.

The banks of the river, which was from half to three-quarters of a

mile wide, were only a few feet above the water, and from them flew

numbers of birds. Among these were many with which we were familiar

in the interior—the pure white lesser egret, varieties of heron,

purple kingfishers, wild ducks and wild geese, and many others. The

_Railòvy_ or fork-tailed shrike is one of the most widely distributed

birds of the island, and is very active and an excellent singer.

Perched on a dead branch, it keeps up a constant noise, its strong

voice giving forth several notes, which very much resemble that of an

organ. In the spots frequented by a large number of these shrikes,

each one reserves to itself a hunting-ground, in which according

to M. Pollen, he tolerates the presence of no other birds, even of

his own kind, not excepting those stronger than himself. It is dark

bluish-green in colour, with a long tail, forked at the extremity.

These western woods are fairly full of singing birds, especially in

the hot season, which was coming on at the time of our journey.

Among these are three species of fly-catcher, one of which is

called the “changeable,” from the remarkable changes of colour it

undergoes according to its age and sex. The female bird is entirely

of reddish-brown, except the cap and nape, which are dark green.

The young male has during the first month the same livery as the

female, but its plumage soon changes to a beautiful maroon red; then

very soon the two middle tail feathers become greatly lengthened,

the quills being black with a white fringe; the wing coverts become

partly black and partly white; and the feathers of the head change to

dark green, with brilliant metallic reflections. At the breeding-time

the back and throat take the same tints as the head, and the belly

and breast become white.

[Sidenote: TAMARIND-TREES]

We stopped for lunch at a low rising ground, a few feet above the

water, at a grove of _Madìro_ or tamarind-trees, and under one

of these we spread our meal. It was a magnificent tree, shapely

and rounded in outline like a great oak or chestnut, the branches

spreading over a circle of a hundred feet in diameter and touching

the ground. The foliage was then rather thin, the leaves being

minute, like those of a mimosa, and the ground was strewed with them,

as well as with the pods of the fruit. Most of these were dry and

worthless, but we got many fresh enough to eat, and their acid dark

red pulp was very refreshing. Mr Baron believes the tamarind-tree to

be truly indigenous to Madagascar, but only in the western region,

which he thinks forms its original home. The seeds were, and probably

still are, employed in the _sikìdy_, or divination; and a decoction

from the leaves as a medicine.