DESCRIBES A MEEK MOTHER AND CROCODILE-SON. JOURNEY RESUMED AND STRANGE
TREATMENT OF THE KING OF THE WATERS.
Dawn was still struggling to assert itself in the far east and the
depths of the forest were still shrouded in almost midnight gloom, when
the strange band of outlaws emerged from their cave, and, led by
Ravonino, went forth to search for a safer dwelling-place in the still
more inaccessible fastnesses of the wilderness.
They had not much difficulty in finding a suitable spot, for the
particular region to which they had fled from persecution was
exceedingly wild and broken in form, and abounded with concealed caverns
having outlets in several directions, so that pursuit and discovery were
alike difficult.
We may not delay here, however, to tell of their wanderings. Like the
Christians of other lands and, more ancient times, they were hunted like
wild beasts, though their only crime was a desire to serve and worship
God according to the dictates of their consciences. It is the old
familiar story, and comment is needless to those who understand it--
"Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn."
There is only one other member of the party of whom we will make mention
just now, because she appears again somewhat prominently in our tale.
This was a little elderly female who seemed utterly destitute of the
very common human attribute of self-assertion, and in whose amiable,
almost comical, countenance, one expression seemed to overbear and
obliterate all others, namely that of gushing good-will to man and
beast! Those who did not know Reni-Mamba thought her an amiable
imbecile. Those who knew her well loved her with peculiar tenderness.
Her modesty and self-abnegation were not, so far as any one knew, the
result of principle. She was too unassertive to lay claim to principle!
We are not sure that she understood the meaning of principle.
Before Christianity in its doctrinal form reached her she had only one
source of discomfort in life, and that was, that in _everything_ she
failed! Failed to do as much as she wanted to do for other people;
failed to express herself always as affectionately as she felt; failed
to avoid giving slight occasions of offence, although she "never,
_never_ meant to do it!" In short she was, strange to say, a victim to
self-condemnation. When the Gospel of Jesus came to her, telling, as it
does, that "God is Love," that Christ came to sweep away for ever the
very sins that troubled her, and that His Holy Spirit would fight for
and _in_ her, so as to make her "more than conqueror," she caught it to
her heart as the very thing she needed.
She did not indeed condemn herself less--nay, she rather condemned
herself more than formerly--but the joy of being on the winning side, of
knowing that all sin was pardoned for His sake, of feeling assured of
progressive victory now and complete victory in the end, thoroughly
scattered her old troubles to the winds.
Her very name was characteristic. It is a common and curious custom in
Madagascar for parents sometimes to drop their own names and take the
name of their eldest child with the word _raini_, "father of," or
_reni_, "mother of," prefixed. Now this amiable little elderly woman
had been married young, and it so happened that her husband was away on
an expedition to the coast when the first and only son was born. One of
the first things that the child did after opening its black eyes on this
life was to open its uncommonly large mouth, with the intention, no
doubt, of howling. But circumstances apparently induced it to change
its mind, for it shut its mouth without howling.
The effect of the gape on the mother was to remind her of one class of
inhabitants of her native rivers--the crocodile--and cause her
laughingly to style the child her "young crocodile." The Malagasy word
for crocodile is _mamba_, and thus the child came by his name, with the
usual prefix, Ra-Mamba. After a time his mother became so proud of her
young crocodile that she dropped her own name entirely--congenially, as
it were, obliterated herself--and ever after was known as Reni-Mamba,
"mother of the crocodile."
At the time we write of, Mamba, (we will drop the "Ra"), was a stalwart
handsome youth of over twenty, with no resemblance whatever to his
namesake except a goodly-sized mouth and an amazing strength of
appetite.
Need we say that his mother's gushing powers were expended upon him with
the force of a Norwegian mill-race? It is gratifying to be able to add
that the crocodile was keenly responsive!
The father of little Mamba--Andrianivo--had returned to the capital soon
after his son's birth. He was a man in good position among the
aristocracy of the land, and occupied a post of trust in the Queen's
service. At that time the first great persecution of the Christians had
begun. It was known that Andrianivo favoured the Christians. On the
question being put to him, he frankly admitted that he was one of them.
He was therefore despoiled of all he possessed, and banished into
perpetual exile and slavery. He was sent in chains to a pestilential
part of the island, with the intention that toil and disease should end
his life. So secretly and promptly was he spirited away that no one
could tell the precise locality to which he had been banished. His
heart-broken wife and child were also sold, but were taken to a more
healthy region, where the child grew and became a stout boy; his little
mother, meanwhile, acting the part of a meek and faithful slave. She
would probably have lived and died in this condition had not her stout
son, when he grew up, resolved to become free. His mother had taught
him what she knew of the Christian religion. From Ravonino he learned
more, and heard of the escaped Christians who found a refuge in forests
and mountains. Finally he persuaded his mother to run away with him,
and thus it came about that we find them with the band of which Ravonino
was leader--Laihova being lieutenant of the band.
An occasion for the display of his affectionate nature was afforded to
Mamba on the morning we write of. Active as a kitten, though
middle-aged, Reni-Mamba was skipping from rock to rock in a very rugged
part of their route, when, her foot slipping, she fell and sprained her
ankle badly.
Mamba was close to her.
"Mother!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward and raising her carefully, "why
jump about like the squirrel? Are you hurt?"
"My son, help me to rise."
Gently the youth lifted her, and set her on her feet, whereupon she sank
down again with a little shriek, and looked up with an expression of
mingled humour and pain.
"My leg, I think, is broken!" said Reni. For the sake of brevity we
will drop the "Mamba."
"Surely not, mother; it has been too tough and strong to break ever
since I knew it."
Mamba spoke encouragingly; nevertheless, he examined the limb with
anxious care. Being ignorant of surgery his examination was not of much
use, but, fortunately, just then Mark Breezy, who had lingered behind to
gather some plants, arrived on the scene. He found the injury to be a
bad sprain, and did the best he could for the poor woman in the
circumstances.
"Now, we must carry her," he said to the guide, "for she won't be able
to walk for many days."
On this being translated, Mamba gathered his mother up as if she had
been a bundle of clothes, or a baby, and marched away with her.
"Stop, stop!" cried Ravonino, "you can't carry her more than a few miles
on such ground as I shall soon lead you over. We must arrange for her a
_filanzana_."
The guide here referred to the sort of palanquin used by travellers in a
country where there were no roads. It consisted of a shallow, oblong
basket, with light wooden framework, filled in with plaited strips of
sheepskin, and hung between two light poles or bamboos. As several such
machines were used by some of the party to carry their few household
necessaries, one of them was at once emptied and Reni put therein by her
affectionate son. Four stout young men put the ends of the poles on
their shoulders, and the party once more advanced, Mamba walking by the
side of the _filanzana_ to be ready to assist in cases of difficulty or
danger, and to relieve the bearers occasionally.
That afternoon they arrived at their new abode--a large, dry cavern--the
entrance to which was not only well concealed on the face of a cliff in
the heart of a dense jungle, but so difficult of access that a mere
handful of men might easily have maintained it against a host.
Here Ravonino made no further delay than was necessary to see the party
fairly settled. Then he left them, but not before receiving many an
earnest and affectionate message to friends and kindred of the fugitives
still at the capital, but who had, as yet, managed to elude the
vigilance and escape the malignity of Queen Ranavalona and her spies.
Some of the women even wept as they bade the guide farewell, saying that
they felt sure he would at last fall a victim to the relentless fury of
the Queen, and that they should see his face no more.
With these the guide gently remonstrated.
"Think you not," he said, "that God is as able to protect me in
Antananarivo as here in the wilderness? I go because I think that duty
calls me. I expect no miracle in my behalf. I will take all possible
precautions. Farewell."
Once more our three travellers found themselves advancing rapidly in
single file through the forest, with the guide in advance. Before the
sinking sun compelled them to encamp under the trees that night they had
put many miles between them and the hiding-place of the outlawed
Christians.
Next day, as they were about to resume their journey, Ravonino told them
that about noon they would come to a large river, on the other side of
which there was a village where they could spend the night, for the
people and their chief were friendly.
"Are they Christians?" asked Mark.
"No--at least the most of them are not, though there may be a few secret
converts among them; for this hot persecution at the capital has
scattered the Christians far and wide through the land, so that the
knowledge of the blessed Gospel spreads. Thus our God makes the wrath
of man to praise Him. The remainder of wrath He has promised to
restrain. If He wills it otherwise, are we not prepared to die at His
bidding? Many of our people have died already under the bloody reign of
Ranavalona the usurper. How many more shall perish, who can tell?"
"But how do it come about," asked Hockins, "that this here chief is
friendly?"
"Because I had occasion to render him good service at one time, and he
is grateful."
"Good! Das allers de right way," remarked Ebony, with an approving nod.
"W'en a man's grateful he's safe--you's sure ob 'im. Is dat de ribber
you refur to jes' now?"
He pointed to an opening among the trees ahead, through which the sheen
of water glittering in the sunlight could be seen.
Before the guide could reply a loud shout startled them, and next moment
they were surrounded by half-naked savages, who brandished their spears
threateningly.
Quick as lightning, according to a pre-arranged plan in case of sudden
attack, Mark, Hockins, and the negro stood back-to-back, facing in all
directions--the first with his gun advanced, the seaman pointing his
cutlass at the foe, and Ebony levelling a spear with which he had
provided himself, little would their courage have availed them, however,
if Ravonino had not been there, for a flight of spears would have ended
their resistance in a moment.
"Voalavo, your chief, is my friend," said the guide, calmly, without
putting himself in an attitude of defence, or showing the slightest
symptom of alarm. "Is Voalavo with you?"
"Voalavo comes," they replied, at once lowering their weapons and
pointing in the direction of the river, whence proceeded sounds as of
the lowing of cattle.
"We have been to visit our enemies," said one of the party, who, from
his tones and bearing, appeared to be a leader. "We have smitten them,
and we have brought away their cattle."
As he spoke another native was seen approaching. He was a large burly
jovial-looking man, somewhere about forty years of age, armed with a
spear and enveloped in the native _lamba_, a garment used much in the
same way as the Scottish plaid, which it resembled in form, though of
much lighter material. The ornamentation of this garment proclaimed the
wearer a person of distinction, and the evident satisfaction that beamed
on his broad jovial countenance when he recognised and greeted Ravonino
showed that it was Voalavo himself--the chief of the village they were
approaching.
"I'm sorry to see," said the guide, after the first few words of
salutation, "that my friend still delights in war and robbery."
"Don't be sorry, friend, don't be sorry," returned the chief with a
hearty laugh, as he gave the other a slap on the shoulder. "Sorrow does
no good. It only puts water in the eyes and makes them red. Look at
me--just returned from `war and robbery,' and as happy as a squirrel.
If a man does not delight in war and robbery, what is there in the world
to delight in? If _I_ am not sorry why should _you_ be? If you can't
help it--then laugh at it and try to enjoy your sorrow. That's the way
_I_ do. It suits me. I grow fat on it!"
He certainly did grow fat--if not on laughing at sorrow, certainly on
something else--and his followers, although respectfully silent, showed
by their smiling faces that they sympathised with their chief's
hilarious mood.
"But where did you fall in with the white men?" asked Voalavo, turning
suddenly towards Mark and Hockins, who stood listening with interest and
curiosity to the rapid flow of his unintelligible talk. "Such pale
flowers do not grow in _our_ forests!"
In a few words Ravonino explained the history of our adventurers as far
as he knew it, and the chief, on learning that they were his friend's
friends, bade them welcome, and shook hands heartily in the European
fashion--a mode of expressing friendship which had probably been learned
from the missionaries, who, after spending many years in Madagascar,
had, about the time we write of, been all banished from the island.
"Come now," cried the chief, "the rice will soon be ready--that won't
make you sorry, Ravonino, will it?--and we have yet to cross the river
with the cattle in the face of the hungry crocodiles--which won't make
_them_ sorry! Come."
Turning impulsively, in the brusque careless manner which characterised
him, Voalavo led the way to the banks of the river--a considerable
stream--where the cattle were assembled and guarded by a band of over a
hundred warriors.
"Cattle seem to be plentiful in these parts," said Mark to the guide as
they walked along.
"They are numerous everywhere in Madagascar. In truth a large part of
our exports to the Mauritius and elsewhere consists of cattle.--Look!
the chief was right when he said the crocodiles would not be sorry to
see the cattle crossing."
He pointed to a ripple on the water caused by the ugly snout of one of
the creatures referred to. It seemed by the activity of its movements
to be already anticipating a feast.
"Crocodiles," continued the guide, "are numerous in many of our lakes
and rivers, and dangerous too, though they are naturally timid, and can
be easily frightened away. I remember a curious instance of this kind
happening on the east coast, where a European trader was cleverly
imposed on--deceived, or, what you call--"
"Humbugged," suggested Hockins.
"Well, yes--humbugged! He was a big ignorant fellow, this trader;
strong and energetic enough, but full of conceit--thought he knew almost
everything, but in reality knew next to nothing, yet self-willed and
obstinate enough to--to--You know the sort of man?"
"Yes, yes; a stoopid cockscomb," said Hockins. "I know the breed well--
lots of 'em everywhere."
"Jus' so--a born idjit; go on, massa," said Ebony, who was always
charmed at the prospect of a story or anecdote.
"Well, this trader," continued the guide, "was on his way from
Antananarivo to the coast with cattle for exportation, and one day they
came to a place where they had to cross a narrow part of a lake. The
natives of that place advised him not to venture without trying the
effect of their _ody_, or charms, on the crocodiles. These they said,
and believed, would protect the cattle in crossing. But the trader
scouted the idea, and, laughing at their superstitions, gave orders to
drive the bullocks into the water. He quickly repented his obstinacy,
for no sooner were they in than the crocodiles seized nine of them and
dragged them down. `Oh! bring the ody--work the ody--quick!' cried the
anxious man, fearing lest all the cattle should be seized. The _ody_
was worked instantly, and to his astonishment, as well as the triumph of
the natives, the rest of the cattle crossed in safety. Even those that
had been nearly drowned escaped and passed over."
"But how was dat?" asked Ebony, with a perplexed air. "If de _ody_ was
nuffin', how could it do suffin'?"
"Simply enough," returned the guide. "The charm consisted merely in
noise. The natives, in canoes and on both sides of the lake, shouted
furiously and beat the water with branches of trees, so that the poor
crocodiles were scared away. See--there is something of the same sort
going to be performed just now."
Previous to this process, however, the chief Voalavo went through a
singular ceremony to propitiate the crocodiles. The Malagasy, like the
ancient Egyptians, regard the crocodile with superstitious veneration.
They esteem him the king of the waters, and to dispute his right to
reign would, they believe, expose them to his vengeance. Hence they
seldom kill crocodiles, and rather avoid whatever is likely to provoke
them. It is their custom, also, sometimes to make solemn speeches and
vows to the crocodiles when about to cross rivers.
Voalavo, who was unusually reckless, free-and-easy, and regardless in
ordinary affairs, was nevertheless remarkably superstitious. Before
giving orders to cross the river, therefore, he advanced to the water's
edge and mumbled incantations or made vows in a low tone for nearly
half-an-hour. Then, elevating his voice, so as to be heard across the
river, he continued, addressing the crocodiles:--
"Now, I pray you, good mamba, to do me no injury, and particularly to
spare my cattle, for you do not know what trouble I have had to get
them. No doubt you know how anxious I and my people are to eat them,
for you have much of the same desire; but I beseech you to exercise
self-denial. You don't know how pleasant that will make you feel!
Remember that I have never done your royal race any injury--never waged
war with you or killed you. On the contrary I have always held you in
the highest veneration. If you do not remember this, but forget it, I
and my whole race and all my relatives will declare war and fight
against you for ever more! So be good and do what I tell you!"
"Now, my men," he cried, turning round, "drive in the cattle, work the
_ody_, and make all the dogs bark!"
In the midst of an indescribable hubbub the herds were then driven into
the river, and the men--some in canoes and some on both banks--enacted
the very scene which Ravonino had described. In a few minutes the whole
herd was got over in safety.
Half-an-hour later and our travellers were seated in the chief's house
regaling themselves with beef-steaks and marrow-bones, chickens and
rice.