As might be supposed, the unexpected appearance of the outlaw, as well
as his sudden departure, tended somewhat to interfere with the sleep
which he had wished the travellers at parting, and the night was far
advanced before they grew tired of wondering who he could be,
speculating as to where he came from, and commenting on his personal
appearance. In short, at the close of their discourse, they came to the
conclusion which was well embodied in the remark of Ebony, when he said,
"It's my opinion, founded on obsarvashun, dat if we was to talk an tink
de whole night long we would come no nearer de troot, so I'll turn in."
He did turn in accordingly, and, after exhausting the regions of
conjecture, the powers of speculation, and the realms of fancy, Mark and
Hockins followed his example.
One consequence of their mental dissipation was that they slept rather
beyond the hour of day-break, and the first thing that recalled the two
white men to consciousness was the voice of their black comrade
exclaiming:--
"Ho! hi! hallo! I smells a smell!"
They lifted their three heads simultaneously and beheld the outlaw
sitting calmly beside the fire roasting steaks.
For the first time the mysterious stranger smiled--and it was a
peculiarly sweet half-grave sort of attractive smile, as far removed
from the fiendish grin of the stage bandit as night is from day.
"I knew you would be hungry, and guessed you would be sleepy," he said,
in a deep musical voice, "so I have prepared breakfast. Are you ready?"
"Ready!" repeated Hockins, rising with a mighty yawn, and stretching
himself, as was his wont; "I just think we are. Leastwise _I_ am. Good
luck to 'ee Mister Outlaw, what have 'ee got there?"
"Beef, marrow-bones, and rice," replied the man. "You may call me
Samuel if you like. It was my father's first name, but I'm best known
among my friends as Ravoninohitriniony."
"Well, that _is_ a jaw-breaker!" exclaimed Hockins, with a laugh, as
they all sat down to breakfast. "Ra-vo--what did 'ee say?"
"Better not try it till arter breakfast," suggested Ebony.
"Couldn't we shorten it a bit?" said Mark, beginning to consult a
marrow-bone. "What say you to the first half--Ravonino?"
"As you please," replied the outlaw, who was already too much absorbed
with steaks to look up.
"Not a bad notion," said Hockins. "Sam'l Ravonino--I've heerd wuss;
anyhow it's better than the entire complication--eh, Ebony?"
"Mush better," assented the negro; "dere's no use wotsomediver for de
hitri--hitri-folderol-ony bit of it. Now, 'Ockins, fair play wid de
marrow-bones. Hand me anoder."
"Is it far, Mr Ravonino," asked Mark, "from here to the capital--to
Antananarivo?"
"You cleared 'im that time, Doctor!" murmured Hockins, wiping his mouth
with a bunch of grass which he carried as a substitute for a
pocket-handkerchief.
"Yes, it is a long way," said the outlaw; "many days' journey over
mountain and plain."
"And are you going to guide us all the way there?"
"No, not all the way. You forget I am an outlaw. It would cost me my
life if I were to appear in Antananarivo."
Mark was on the point of asking why, but, remembering the rebuff of the
previous night, forbore to put questions relative to his new friend's
personal affairs. Indeed he soon found that it was useless to do so,
for whenever he approached the subject Ravonino became so abstracted and
deaf that no reply could be drawn from him. As if to compensate for
this, however, the man was exceedingly communicative in regard to all
other subjects, and there was a quiet urbanity in his manner which
rendered his conversation exceedingly attractive. Moreover, to the
surprise of Mark, this mysterious stranger gave evidence of a
considerable amount of education. He also gratified Hockins by his
evident delight in the flageolet, and his appreciation of nautical
stories and "lingo," while he quite won the heart of Ebony by treating
him with the same deference which he accorded to his companions. In
short each of our travellers congratulated himself not a little on this
pleasant acquisition to the party--the only drawback to their
satisfaction being their inability to reconcile the existence of such
good qualities with the condition of an outlaw!
"However," remarked Hockins, after a long talk with his comrades on this
subject when Ravonino was absent, "it's none of our business what he's
bin an' done to other people. What we've got to do with is the way he
behaves to _us_, d'ee see?"
"He's a trump," said Ebony, with a nod of decision.
"I agree with you," said Mark; "and I only wish he was a little more
communicative about himself. However, we must take him as we find him,
and try to win his confidence."
During the whole of that first day their guide conducted them through
such intricate and evidently unfrequented parts of the forest that their
advance was comparatively slow and toilsome, but, being young and strong
and well-fed, they did not mind that. In fact Mark Breezy enjoyed it,
for the wilder and more tangled the scenery was through which they
forced their way, the more did it accord with the feelings of romance
which filled him, and the thought, too, of being guided through the
woods by an outlaw tended rather to increase his satisfaction.
"Are all the roads in your island as bad as these?" he asked, after
plumping up to the knees in a quagmire, out of which he scrambled with
difficulty.
"No, many of them are worse and some better," answered the guide; "but I
keep away from them, because the Queen's soldiers and spies are hunting
about the land just now."
"Oho!" thought Mark, "I begin to see; you are a rebel." Then, aloud,
"Your country, then, is governed by a queen?"
"Misgoverned," returned Ravonino in a tone of bitterness, which,
however, he evidently tried to restrain.
Fearing to tread again on forbidden ground, Mark forbore to put
questions about the guide's objections to his queen, but simply asked
her name, and if she had reigned long.
"Her name," said Ravonino, "is Ranavalona. She has reigned for
twenty-seven years--twenty-seven long and weary years! I was a little
boy when she usurped the throne. Now my sun has reached its meridian,
yet she is still there, a blight upon the land. But God knows what is
best. He cannot err."
This was the first reference that Ravonino had made to the Creator, and
Mark was about to push his inquiries further, when a confused sound of
voices was heard not far in advance of them.
Ravonino, who had been walking with an easy nonchalant air ahead of the
party, on a very narrow footpath, suddenly stopped to listen with a look
of anxiety. A moment later and he entered the bush that fringed the
path and overhung it.
"Come," he said in a low voice, "follow me, close!"
Without a word of explanation he strode into the dense undergrowth,
through which he went with the agility of a panther and the sinuosity of
a serpent. The others, being, as we have said, very active and strong,
kept close at his heels, though not without difficulty. Coming at last
to a place where the shrubbery was so intertwined that it was impossible
to see more than a yard or two in advance, they suddenly found
themselves stopped by a sheer precipice. Only for a few seconds,
however, was their progress arrested, while their guide turned to
explain.
"There is another and an easier way to the place I am making for, but it
is much longer and more exposed. I take for granted that you have
strong arms and steady heads, but if not, speak out, for I would not
lead you into danger."
"Lead on," said Mark, promptly, "wherever you go, we will follow."
With something like an amused twinkle of the eye, Ravonino began to
climb up the face of the precipice, holding on to roots and rope-like
creepers like a monkey.
"If this here sort o' cordage was only a bit more taut I wouldn't mind
it so much," growled Hockins, as he lost his footing at one place, and
swung off the face of the precipice,--holding on to a stout creeper,
however, with seaman-like grip and coolness. He quickly caught hold of
another creeper, and drew himself again into comparative safety. A
minute later and they all stood on a ledge, high up on the face of the
cliff, and close to what appeared to be the mouth of a cavern.
"Look there," said their guide, pushing aside the bushes which overhung
the cliff in all directions.
They looked, and through the opening beheld a band of men moving in
single file along the track they had just left. They were most of them
nearly naked, with only short calico breeches which did not quite reach
to their knees, but all had muskets on their shoulders and cross-belts
on their dark bodies, one of which belts sustained apparently a
cartridge-box, the other a bayonet. Their own thick hair was all the
cap they wore, excepting two or three men of superior rank, who wore
cloths wrapped in turban fashion on their heads, and a voluminous
plaid-like garment on their shoulders. These carried swords instead of
muskets.
"The soldiers of the Queen," said Ravonino, in answer to Mark Breezy's
look. "They are out hunting."
"What do they hunt for?" asked Mark.
"Men and women."
"By which I suppose you mean rebels."
"No, they are not rebels; they are the queen's most loyal subjects!"
"But loyal subjects do not usually fly from their rulers," objected
Mark.
"True, but loyal subjects sometimes fly from tyranny," returned the
guide. "Come, I will introduce you to some fugitives from tyranny."
He turned as he spoke and led the way into the cave before mentioned.
Profound darkness did not prevent his advancing with a firm unhesitating
step. As he led Mark by the hand, Hockins and Ebony held on to him and
to each other, and had no difficulty in following. Presently they came
to a wooden obstruction which proved to be a door. Voices in
conversation were heard on the other side of it. A knock from the guide
produced sudden silence. Another knock drew from those within an
exclamation of surprise, and next moment the heavy door swung open on
creaking hinges.
"Yes, it _is_ Ravoninohitriniony! I knew his knock. He is come!"
exclaimed a girlish voice, as a pair of arms were seen dimly to encircle
the guide's neck.
Of course the girl spoke in the native tongue, which was quite
incomprehensible to our travellers, but if we are to enlighten our
readers we must needs translate as we go along.
"My sister, Ra-Ruth," said the guide, presenting her to his new friends.
"She was a lady in the palace of the queen once. Now she is an outlaw,
like myself--has fled from tyranny, and, perhaps, death. All in this
cave are in the same case--fugitives from our tyrant queen."
They reached the interior of the place as he spoke, and Ravonino,
pointing to a bundle of dried ferns, bade his companions rest there
until he had explained some private matters to the people.
Nothing loth--for they were all somewhat fatigued by their recent
exertions--our travellers flung themselves on what proved to be a
luxurious couch, and observed what went on around them.
Truly it was a strange scene, romantic enough even to satisfy the
longings of Mark Breezy!
The cavern itself was a curious one, being in the form of a vast hall,
with three smaller chambers opening out of it. The central hall seemed
to have no roof, for although brightly lighted by several torches fixed
to its rugged walls the upper part was lost in profound obscurity.
This strange abode was peopled by a considerable number of men and
women--natives of the island--who from the variety in their costume,
features, and complexion, evidently belonged to different tribes. Some
were strong, tall, and rather harsh-featured, others were more slender
in build and with refined countenances. A few were almost black, others
of a light olive colour, and several made that approach to whiteness of
skin which in England is known as brunette. All were more or less
characterised by that quiet gentleness and gravity of demeanour which
one is accustomed to associate with humbly borne misfortune.
It was evident from the appearance of the large chamber that its
inhabitants were associated in groups or families, spaces being marked
off by an arrangement of logs and household goods, etcetera, as if to
indicate the habitation of each group, and, from certain indications in
the smaller chambers, it was equally evident that these had been
apportioned as the sleeping-places of the females. A larger space at
the end of the cave, opposite to that on which Mark and his comrades
reclined, seemed to be a general meeting-place.
To this spot it was that Ravonino went, leading his little sister
Ra-Ruth by the hand, and followed by all the inmates of the place, who
were eager to know what news he had brought. That the news was the
reverse of good soon became evident, from the bowed heads and frequent
sighs with which it was received.
Of course our travellers could make no use of their ears, but they made
the best use of their eyes, and were deeply interested in the
expressions and actions of the various members of the group who
successively spoke after the guide had told his story. Poor little
Ra-Ruth, whose age might have been about seventeen, was not one of the
speakers. She was evidently a timid as well as a pretty little
creature, for she clung to and nestled against her stout brother's arm
while he was speaking, and hid her face now and then in the masses of
her luxuriant brown hair.
Close to her sat a young woman whose appearance and manner formed a
striking contrast. She was much darker in complexion, but her features
were of classical beauty and her air calm and self-possessed. When she
had occasion to speak, she arose, displaying a tall elegantly-formed
figure, which moved with queen-like dignity while she gesticulated with
graceful animation, and frequently pointed upwards as if appealing to.
God. When she was speaking Ra-Ruth's timidity seemed to vanish, for she
shook back her hair, and fixed her eyes on the other's face with a gaze
that told of ardent love as well as admiration.
The next who spoke was a young man, who in face and figure so strongly
resembled the last speaker, that it was impossible to resist the
conclusion that they were brother and sister. There was the same tall
commanding figure, of course on a larger scale, the same noble cast of
feature and the same dignified mien. But in the man, more than in the
woman, there was an air of gentle modesty which contrasted well with his
powerful frame. He did not gesticulate much in speaking, and, judging
from the brevity of his speech, he had not much to say, but what he said
was listened to with profound respect by all.
After this youth, several others took part in the debate. Then they all
stood up, and, to the surprise of their visitors, began to sing--very
sweetly--an old familiar hymn!
"It minds me o' home," whispered Hockins, scarce able to restrain the
tears that filled his eyes.
The hymn was nearly finished, when a rushing sound and a subdued cry
were heard to issue from a dark passage, the mouth of which was close to
the couch of our travellers. The singing ceased instantly. Next moment
a man rushed into the chamber with labouring breath and flashing eyes.
Springing towards Ravonino, he spoke several words eagerly, at the same
time pointing in the direction of the passage just referred to.
"Lights out and silence!" cried the guide, authoritatively, in the
native tongue.
Another moment and the cave was in total darkness, and a silence so
profound reigned there that the three visitors could hardly persuade
themselves the whole affair was not a strange dream. The voice of
Ravonino, however, soon dispelled that idea.
"Be still!" whispered the guide, laying his hand on Mark's shoulder.
"Our foes have discovered our retreat."
"There's a lot of stout fellows here," returned Mark, also in a whisper.
"We will help you if you have to fight."
"We may not fight," replied Ravonino softly. "If it be God's will, we
must die. Hush! They come."
Once more total silence prevailed in the cavern, and the sound of
distant voices could be heard. In a few minutes a tiny light was seen
at the end of the dark passage. It gradually increased in size,
revealing a soldier who bore a torch. He advanced on tip-toe, and with
slightly scared looks, into an outer cavern which formed a sort of
vestibule to the large inner cave.
The soldier was brave, no doubt, and would have faced an army in the
field, but he was extremely superstitious, and advanced with a
palpitating heart, the torch held high above his head, and eyes glancing
nervously from side to side. A crowd of comrades, similarly affected
more or less, followed the torch-bearer and pushed him on.
"Nothing here," said the leading man, of course in Malagasy.
"Let us be gone, then," said one of his comrades.
"No," observed a third, who seemed bolder than the rest, "perhaps there
is another cave beyond," (pointing to the dark passage, through which,
though unseen, Mark and his companions with the guide were gazing
anxiously at their foes). "Give me the torch."
The soldier seized the light and advanced quickly towards the opening.
Another minute and all must have been revealed. A feeling of despair
took possession of Ravonino's breast and he gave vent to an involuntary
sigh.
The sound reached the ear of the soldier with the torch and for a moment
arrested him, but, thinking probably that the sound was in his
imagination, he again advanced. The case was now desperate. Just then
a gleam of light flashed into the mind of Hockins. Next moment, to the
consternation of his comrades and the guide, a strain of the sweetest
music floated softly in the air!
The soldiers stood still--spell-bound. It was not an unfamiliar air,
for they had often heard the hated Christians sing it, but the sweet,
liquid--we might almost say tiny--tones in which it was conveyed, were
such as had never before reached their ears or even entered their
imaginations. It was evident from their countenances that the soldiers
were awe-stricken. The seaman noted this. He played only a few bars,
and allowed the last notes of his flageolet to grow faint until they
died away into absolute silence.
For a minute or two the soldiers stood rooted to the spot, gazing up
into the roof of the cave as if expecting a renewal of the sounds. Then
they looked solemnly at each other. Without uttering a word they turned
slowly round, retreated on tip-toe as they came, and finally
disappeared.
We need hardly say that the astonishment of the people in the cave at
the mode of their deliverance from the threatened danger was intense.
When the torches were relighted the men and women assembled round
Ravonino with looks little less solemn than those of the soldiers who
had just taken their departure.
"Surely," said the handsome young man whom we have already introduced,
"surely God has wrought a miracle and sent an angel's voice for our
deliverance."
"Not so, Laihova," replied Ravonino, with a slight smile. "We are too
apt to count everything that we fail to understand a miracle. God has
indeed sent the deliverance, but through a natural channel."
"Yet we see not the channel, Ravoninohitriniony," said Laihova's
queen-like sister, Ramatoa.
"True, Ramatoa. Nevertheless I can show it to you. Come, Hockins," he
added in English, "clear up the mystery to them."
Thus bidden, our seaman at once drew forth the little instrument and
began to play the hymn they had just been singing, with the air of
which, as we have said, he chanced to be well acquainted.
It would be hard to say whether surprise or pleasure predominated in the
breasts of his audience. At last the latter feeling prevailed, and the
whole assembly joined in singing the last verse of the hymn, which
appropriately terminated in "Praise ye the Lord."
"But our retreat is no longer safe," said Ravonino, when the last echo
of their thanksgiving had died away. "We must change our abode--and
that without delay. Get ready. By the first light of morning I will
lead you to a new home. These soldiers will not return, but they will
tell what they have seen, and others less timorous will come here to
search for us."
Immediately the people set about collecting together and packing up what
may be termed their household goods, leaving the guide and their
visitors to enjoy supper and conversation in their own corner of the
cave.