The villagers and their guests were still in the midst of the feast, and
the arrack had not yet begun to stimulate their imaginations, so that
the deeds of their ancestors--which formed the chief subject of
conversation--were still being recounted with some regard to modesty and
truth, when Voalavo said to the assemblage, with a beaming countenance,
that he had a treat in store for them.
"You are all fond of music," he said. "Who does not know that the
Malagasy are good singers? The songs you have already sung have
delighted my ears, and the clapping of your hands has been in the best
of time; but you shall soon have music such as the idols would enjoy, I
have no doubt, when in a merry mood."
The chief uttered the last sentence with an air of good-natured
contempt, for he was what we may style an unbeliever in all gods--not an
uncommon state of mind in men of superior intelligence when they think
seriously of the debasing absurdities of idolatry.
"Now, my friend," he said, turning to John Hockins, with an air and tone
of command, "let them hear the little pipe on which you--you--
tootle-ootle."
Hockins had much ado to keep his gravity as he drew out the flageolet,
and every eye was instantly fixed on him in glaring expectancy.
It need hardly be said that the effect of the sweet instrument was very
powerful, and it is probable that the party of admirers might have taxed
the seaman's powers of performance to the uttermost, if they had not
been suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a tall wild-looking man,
who was evidently in a state of tremendous excitement.
He wore the usual cloth round the loins, and the _lamba_, which was
thrown like a Scottish chieftain's plaid over his left shoulder--but
these garments bore evidence of rough usage and hard travel. The man
was not a stranger, for, as he suddenly stood panting vehemently in the
midst of the party, with his long arms outstretched, Voalavo addressed
him in tones of surprise.
"Razafil!" he exclaimed. "Glad are we to see the Bard of Imarina. Your
coming is well-timed. We are feasting, and singing, and story-telling.
Words from the poet will be welcome."
Notwithstanding the friendly reception thus accorded to the Bard of
Imarina, it was evident that the words were thrown away upon him, for he
continued for some time to glare and pant while perspiration rolled down
his face, and it became clear to every one that something was wrong with
him. At last he spoke in a kind of low singing tone which harmonised
with his appearance--
"Vain man! Observ'st thou not the dead?
The morning warmth from them has fled,
Their mid-day joy and toil are o'er,
Though near, they meet fond friends no more."
He paused and looked wildly yet tremblingly round, as if in search of
some one, but took no notice of his friends, many of whom were present
at the gathering. Then he continued in the same strain--
"A gate of entrance to the tomb we see,
But a departure thence there ne'er shall be.
The living waves his signal high,
But where's the loved one's fond reply?
Ah! where are those thus doomed to die?
"Vain man! observ'st thou not the dead?
No more their homeward path they tread.
The freeman lost may ransom'd be,
By silver's magic power set free;
But, once the deadly hand has laid them low,
No voice can move them, for they cease to know.
Regardless of our love they lie;
Unknown the friends that o'er them sigh;
Oh! where are those thus doom'd to die?"
Again the poor man paused, and gasped as if some terrible agony were
rending his bosom, yet no tear moistened his eyes, from which there
seemed to gleam the wild light of insanity. His appearance and words
had sunk like a pall upon the festive party, but no one spoke or moved.
It was as if they were spell-bound. Once more the poet spoke, and this
time in tones of deepest pathos--
"Vain man! why groan ye for the dead?
To be with Jesus they have fled,
With shattered limbs--'mid scorching flame,
They sang the praises of His name;
Now, joy unspeakable, they tread the shore
Whence ransom'd sinners shall depart no more.
But ah! while mangled corpses lie,
Our trembling, riven hearts _will_ cry--
`Why, why were those thus doom'd to die?'"
The man ceased; his arms fell listlessly by his side, and his chin sank
on his breast.
"I fear much," whispered Ravonino to Mark, "that I understand but too
well what he means."
Without waiting for a reply the guide rose. Going up to Razafil he laid
his hand gently on his arm, and said--
"My brother!"
The bard looked at him earnestly for a few seconds, then, grasped him by
the wrist as with a grip of iron.
"Ravoninohitriniony," he said, fiercely, "my little one is dead! She is
gone! They took her--a mere child--they tortured her, but she would not
yield. Hear what I say. You knew her well--the soft one; the tender
one, who was always so pliable, so unselfish, so easily led,--she _would
not_ yield! They led her to the place of execution; they tied her to a
stake and kindled the fire about her beautiful limbs,--my little child,
Raniva! I saw the skin upon her flesh blacken and crack and blaze. But
she sang! sang loud and clear! I would have rushed into the fire to her
but they held me back--four strong men held me! When she was consumed
they led me away to the torture--but I burst from them--escaped--I know
not how--I care not! for my little one is lost!--lost!--"
"Nay, Razafil--not lost!" said Ravonino, in a quiet but firm tone, for
he saw the gleam increasing in the poor father's eyes. "Did you not say
just now that she is singing with joy unspeakable the praises of His
name?"
The words were fitly spoken. The father's agonised soul was quieted,
but as quietness partly returned to him, a new expression appeared on
his countenance.
"Listen," he said, still holding the guide's wrist in his powerful
grasp. "I go to my poor wife. She is safe in the cave with
Reni-Mamba--"
"Not in the cave you think of," interrupted the guide, explaining the
change of abode which had been recently made by the Christian fugitives.
"No matter," returned the bard, "I know all the caves, and can find the
one she has gone to. But now I must warn you--warn all of you who are
Christians," he added, with emphasis, looking round upon the natives,
"if there be any such among you--that Queen Ranavalona has got one of
her bad fits again. She has ordered that no one is to sing or pray to
Jesus, or to read the Word of God, on pain of imprisonment, death, or
being sold into slavery. Many have been sold already, and some have
died. Things would have been even worse, for the English missionary has
left Antananarivo, but Prince Rakota remains our friend. Still, he
cannot save every one. He could not save my Raniva! Now," he added,
turning to the guide abruptly, as if anxious to keep his mind from
dwelling on his terrible bereavement, "you must go to Antananarivo with
all haste if you would save Rafaravavy, for she is in great danger."
The bard had touched a cord in Ravonino's breast which vibrated
sensitively.
"She has not confessed? She is not in prison?" he asked, quickly, with
emotion which was too powerful to be entirely suppressed.
"As to confessing," returned Razafil, "there is no need for her to do
that, for it is well-known that she is a Christian; but the queen is
fond of her and wishes to spare her. Nevertheless, she is so exceeding
mad against us just now, that there is no saying when her forbearance
may come to an end. If you would save Rafaravavy, you must get her out
of the palace without delay."
The guide did not reply for a few seconds. It was evident, from the
knitted brows and the pallor of his countenance, that he was
endeavouring to make up his mind to some course of action. Suddenly the
frown passed from his brow, his countenance became perfectly calm, and
his eyes closed.
"He is speaking with God," whispered Laihova to one who sat near him.
Laihova may have been right. If so, the prayer was a very brief one,
for the guide turned almost immediately to Voalavo and explained that in
the circumstances it was absolutely necessary for him and his comrades
to depart at once for the capital.
The chief, being a sympathetic as well as a hilarious soul, made no
objection, but rather urged him to make haste.
Ravonino then turned to his white companions, who could, of course, only
guess at the meaning of all that had been said, and explained to them
the whole matter. They rose at once, and, having no preparations to
make, professed to be ready to start there and then.
Now, while they were yet speaking, the festive party received another
surprise, or alarm, which was even more exciting than the previous one.
A young man suddenly burst into the village with the announcement that a
body of the Queen's soldiers were close at hand. They had been sent off
in pursuit of Razafil, with directions to scour the country, and bring
in as many Christian fugitives as possible, and he--the young man--being
a fast runner, had been sent in advance by some friends of the bard to
warn him of his danger.
"I would not try to avoid them if I stood alone," said Razafil, softly.
"Should _I_ shrink from dying for Jesus, after seeing my Raniva go to
Him in a chariot of fire? But I stand not alone. My wife claims my
support, and my little boy."
While he was speaking, it was seen that a few of the hunters, as well as
one or two inhabitants of the village, rose quietly and left the place.
These were either professing or suspected Christians, who were anxious
to make their escape from the danger that threatened.
After bidding Voalavo farewell, the guide and his friends left the
village and struck into the woods. They were accompanied by the bard a
short distance, until a point was reached where their routes diverged,
and here, after a few words of brotherly sympathy and counsel from
Ravonino, the bereaved man went on his solitary way, and the others
directed their course towards the capital.
"Poor man," said Ebony, who looked over his shoulder with profound
sorrow in his earnest eyes as long as the tall figure of the bard was in
sight, "I's most awrful sorry for 'im. Why don't dey hang Randalvalona,
or shot 'er?"
"History teaches that it's not always so easy as one might think to get
rid of objectionable queens in that way," said Mark.
"Hm! I'd teach history suffin diff'rent if I had my way," returned the
negro.
"But surely the great men around her might have some sort o' power to
clap a stopper on 'er?" said Hockins.
"They have some power, but not much," returned the guide, "for
Ranavalona is a passionate, self-willed, cruel woman; and when such a
woman happens to be a despotic queen, nothing short of a revolution, or
her death, can save the country. She usurped the throne in 1829, we
have now reached 1857, so she has been reigning more than twenty-seven
years, and a bitter reign it has been. There have been many
persecutions of the Christians since it began. Hundreds have been
slain; thousands have been sold into slavery; many more have been
banished to pestilential districts, where disease has laid them low.
God grant that this mad fit may not be the forerunner of another burst
of cruelty."
"But do you really think," said Mark, "that Rafaravavy is in great
danger? Did not the bard say that she is a favourite with the queen?"
"That is some security, but not much, for Ranavalona is changeable as
well as cruel. But my dear one is in the hands of God. No harm can
come to her unless He permits. Nevertheless, our God works not by
miracles but by means, therefore it is my business, having the
opportunity given me, to hasten to her rescue."
"And it is mine to help you," said Mark, an impulse of youthful
enthusiasm and sympathy swelling his heart as his mind suddenly reverted
to the morning when he left England, and said his last good-bye to the
fair one with the golden hair and the rosebud mouth and "such lovely
blue eyes!"
"But how," he continued, "shall we best aid you in this matter?"
"That question I cannot answer immediately. When we draw near to the
capital and hear what is going on I shall be able to form a plan. What
we have to do just now is to travel fast. You are strong stout men, all
of you. Do you think you can walk fast and far with little rest or
sleep, and without breaking down?"
"I think so," answered Mark, modestly.
"I's cock-sure ob it," said Ebony, "if we's allowed lots o' grub."
"I'm not quite so sure," said Hockins; "you must remember I've only got
sea-legs on--but I'll try."
And he did try, and so did the others; with such success, too, that
before the sun set that evening they had penetrated into the very heart
of the mountain range which runs through the centre of the island.
There had not been much conversation on the way, for hill-climbing all
day at top-speed is not compatible with small talk. Besides, the
obvious anxiety of Ravonino rendered his companions less inclined than
usual to engage in desultory remarks. Nevertheless there were
occasions--during momentary halts to recover breath, or when clear
bubbling springs tempted them to drink--when the prolonged silence was
broken.
"Putty stiff work dis hill-climbin', massa," said Ebony, during one of
these brief halts, as he wiped the perspiration from his sable brow with
the back of his hand. "Lucky I's used to it."
"Used to it?" repeated Mark.
"Yes. Di'n't I tell you I was born an' raised among de Andes in Sout'
Ameriky?"
"To be sure, I forgot that, but there must be a considerable difference
between the two mountain ranges."
"Das troo, massa, but de diff'rence don't make much diff'rence to de
legs. You see, wild rugged ground much de same wheder de mountains rise
a few t'ousand foot, like dese, or poke der snow-topped heads troo de
clouds right away up into de blue sky, like de Andes. Rugged ground is
rugged ground, an' hard on de legs all de same, an' dis am rugged 'nuff
even for 'Ockins!"
The negro opened his huge mouth in an amiable laugh at his companion,
who had taken advantage of the brief halt to give a hearty rub to his
colossal limbs.
"Rugged enough it is, no doubt," said the sailor, gravely, "an' it makes
my sea-legs raither stiffish. But never you fear, Ebony; they're tough,
an' will last as long as yours, anyhow."
"You's right, 'Ockins. Dey'll last _longer_ dan mine by eight or ten
hinches--if not more."
"Your jokes are small, Ebony, which is more than can be said for your
mouth. Shut it, man, or some of us'll go tumblin' into it by accident."
While these two were indulging their little pleasantries, the guide and
his friend Laihova had gone to the top of a neighbouring bluff to
consult as to the best route to adopt in the present troubled state of
the country.
The view from the commanding height on which they stood was indeed
marked by a rugged grandeur which might have done credit even to the
giant Andes themselves, and offered a variety of routes, or rather
obstructions to routes, which might well perplex men who were eager to
cross country swiftly.
The point which they had reached, and much of the range they had
crossed, was formed of basalt in various stages of decomposition; but in
the country before them, for several miles in advance, huge masses of
granite and fragments of quartz indicated a change in the nature of the
prevailing rock. The position of these masses, as well as their size,
gave a wild Titanic aspect to much of the scenery.
Many enormous stones projected out of the ground at various angles. One
of these stood out horizontally to the distance of between twenty and
thirty feet, forming a cave under it, in which it was evident, from
sundry suggestive appearances, that wayfarers were accustomed to lodge.
The neighbourhood of this cave formed one of the most romantic and
picturesque scenes they had yet seen. It was a dark narrow vale, in
many places not less than five hundred feet deep, with a considerable
stream at the bottom, which brawled among detached and shattered rocks,
or was partly lost to view in its meanderings among the beautiful green
shrubs which clothed its banks. Various kinds of birds twittered among
the bushes, and wherever water expanded in the form of pond or lakelet
numerous waterfowl sported on the surface.
"A glorious prospect!" exclaimed Mark, as he joined the guide and his
friend, "and a splendid place, I should think, for fugitives from
persecution."
He pointed, as he spoke, to the scene on his right, where masses of rock
varying from thirty to fifty feet in length projected from the side of
the ravine. On the top of these rested other masses in a position that
seemed to threaten destruction to all who ventured beneath them.
"The caves of this region," said the guide, "have served to shelter the
Christians many a time. It looks as if God had provided these blocks of
granite for this very purpose, for the caverns which extend beneath them
are dark and intricate, having many entrances, and being lighted in some
places by openings between the blocks, while in other places they are
profoundly dark and of unknown extent. See also, if you look at the
stream below, they form a splendid bridge. At this distance they do not
seem large, but some of these blocks are not less than a hundred feet
long. This whole region is infested by robbers, but the recent act of
the Queen in sending troops out to scour the country for fugitive
Christians seems to have driven them away. But if they had been here we
should have had little to fear, for robbers are not usually fond of
attacking even small parties of men who are well able to defend
themselves; besides, they do not injure the outlawed Christians much.
Perhaps they have a sort of fellow-feeling for us!"
At this point Laihova spoke a few words to the guide in the native
tongue. The latter nodded approval, and turning to Mark, said--
"We have been consulting about our route. There are two roads--one
rugged, round-about, and safe, which would take us a longer time,
however, to reach the capital than the other, which is the regular
beaten path, through the villages. But this latter way lays us open to
the danger of meeting with soldiers, and of my being captured along with
my friend Laihova. There would be no danger to you and your friends,
for you are strangers."
"Ravonino," said Mark, quickly, "do what is best for rescuing
Rafaravavy. We have no will but yours. We will follow wherever you
choose to lead."
A quiet look of satisfaction played on the guide's features as he turned
to his friend.
"What says Laihova? The Englishmen are willing to do whatever we wish."
"Let us go by the villages. Let us push on by night as well as by day,"
said Laihova. "Time flies! Ranavalona is mad! Rafaravavy is in
danger!"
It was finally arranged that, at this place, which was considerably to
the south of Antananarivo, they should diverge to the right, so as to
avoid certain points of danger, and arrive ultimately at the eastern
side of the capital.
Having settled this point, the three men rejoined their comrades, who
were still conversing amicably beside the spring. Thereafter they all
descended into the valley by a steep and rugged pathway.