MAMBA IS SUCCOURED BY ONE OF THE "ANCIENT SOOT," AND FULFILS HIS
MYSTERIOUS MISSION.
When Laihova and Mamba took the reckless "headers" which we have
described in a former chapter, they tumbled into a court-yard which was
used as a sort of workshop. Fortunately for them the owner of the house
was not a man of orderly habits. He was rather addicted to let rubbish
lie till stern necessity forced him to clear it away. Hence he left
heaps of dust, shavings, and other things to accumulate in heaps. One
such heap happened to lie directly under the window, through which the
adventurous men plunged, so that, to their immense satisfaction, and
even surprise, they came down soft and arose unhurt.
Instantly they slipped into an outhouse, and there held hurried converse
in low tones.
"What will you do now?" asked Laihova.
"I will remain where I am till night-fall, for I dare not show myself
all bruised like this. When it is dark I will slip out and continue my
journey to the coast."
"To Tamatave?" asked Laihova, naming the chief seaport on the eastern
side of Madagascar.
"Yes, to Tamatave."
"Do you go there to trade?"
"No. I go on important business."
It was evident that, whatever his business might be, Mamba, for reasons
best known to himself, resolved to keep his own counsel. Seeing this,
his friend said--
"Well, I go to the eastward also, for Ravoninohitriniony awaits me
there; but I fear that our English friends will be thrown into prison."
"Do you think so?" asked Mamba, anxiously. "If you think I can be
helpful I will give up my important business and remain with you."
"You cannot help us much, I think. Perhaps your presence may be a
danger instead of a help. Besides, I have friends here who have power.
And have we not God to direct us in all things? No, brother, as your
business is important, go."
Mamba was evidently much relieved by this reply, and his friend saw
clearly that he had intended to make a great personal sacrifice when he
offered to remain.
"But now I must myself go forth without delay," continued Laihova. "I
am not well-known here, and, once clear of this house, can walk openly
and without much risk out of the city. Whatever befalls the Englishmen,
Ravoninohitriniony and I will help and pray for them."
Another minute and he was gone. Passing the gates without arousing
suspicion, he was soon walking rapidly towards the forest in which his
friend Ravonino lay concealed.
Meanwhile, Mamba hid himself behind some bags of grain in the outhouse
until night-fall, when he sallied boldly forth and made his way to the
house of a friend, who, although not a Christian, was too fond of him to
refuse him shelter.
This friend was a man of rank and ancient family. The soot hung in long
strings from his roof-tree. He was one of "the ancient soot!"
The houses in the city are usually without ceiling--open to the
ridge-pole, though there is sometimes an upper chamber occupying part of
the space, which is reached by a ladder. There are no chimneys,
therefore, and smoke from the wood and grass fires settles upon the
rafters in great quantities inside. As it is never cleared away, the
soot of course accumulates in course of time and hangs down in long
pendants. So far from considering this objectionable, the Malagasy have
come to regard it with pride; for, as each man owns his own house, the
great accumulations of soot have come to be regarded as evidence of the
family having occupied the dwelling from ancient times. Hence the "old
families" are sometimes complimented by the sovereign, in proclamations,
by being styled "the ancient soot!"
The particular Ancient Soot who accorded hospitality that night to Mamba
was much surprised, but very glad, to see him. "Have you arrived?" he
asked, with a good deal of ceremonial gesticulation.
"I have arrived," answered Mamba.
"Safely and well, I hope."
"Safely and well," replied Mamba--ceremonially of course, for in reality
he had barely arrived with life, and certainly not with a sound skin.
"Come in, then," said the Ancient Soot. "And how are you? I hope it is
well with you. Behold, spread a mat for him, there, one of you. And is
it well with you?"
"Well indeed," said Mamba once again, falsely but ceremonially.
"May you live to grow old!" resumed Soot. "And you have arrived safely?
Come in. Where are you going?"
"I'm going yonder--westward," replied Mamba, with charming conventional
vagueness, as he sat down on the mat.
"But it appears to me," said Ancient Soot, passing from the region of
compliment into that of fact, and looking somewhat closely at his
friend, "it seems to me that you have been hurt."
Mamba now explained the exact state of the case, said that he required a
good long rest, after that a hearty meal, then a lamba and a little
money, for he had been despoiled of everything he had possessed by the
furious crowd that so nearly killed him.
His kind host was quite ready to assist him in every way. In a few
minutes he was sound asleep in a little chamber on the rafters, where he
could rest without much risk of disturbance or discovery.
All next day he remained in hiding. When it began to grow dusk his host
walked with him through the streets and through the gates, thus
rendering his passage less likely to be observed--for this particular
Ancient Soot was well-known in the town.
"I will turn now. What go you to the coast for?" asked his friend, when
about to part.
"You would laugh at me if I told you," said Mamba.
"Then tell me not," returned his friend, with much delicacy of feeling,
"for I would be sorry to laugh at my friend."
Thus they parted. Ancient Soot returned to the home of his forefathers,
and Mamba walked smartly along the road that leads to the seaport of
Tamatave.
He spent that night in the residence of a friend; the next in the hut of
a government wood-cutter.
Felling timber, as might be supposed, was, and still is, an important
branch of industry in Madagascar. Forests of varied extent abound in
different parts of the country, and an immense belt of forest of two or
three days' journey in width covers the interior of the island. These
forests yield abundance of timber of different colour and texture, and
of various degrees of hardness and durability.
The wood-cutter, an old man, was busy splitting a large tree into planks
by means of wedges when our traveller came up. This wasteful method of
obtaining planks is still practised by some natives of the South Sea
Islands. Formerly the Malagasy never thought of obtaining more than two
planks out of a single tree, however large the tree might be. They
merely split the tree down the middle, and then chopped away the outside
of each half until it was reduced to the thickness required. The advent
of the English missionaries, however, in the early part of this century,
introduced light in regard to the things of time as well as those of
eternity-among other things, the pit-saw, which has taught the natives
to "gather up the fragments so that nothing be lost." Thick planks are
still however sometimes procured in the old fashion.
The wood-cutter belonged to "The Seven Hundred" which constituted the
government corps. The members of this corps felled timber for the use
of the sovereign. They also dragged it to the capital, for oxen were
never employed as beasts of burden or trained to the yoke. The whole
population around the capital was liable to be employed on this
timber-hauling work--and indeed on any government work--without
remuneration and for any length of time! After the usual exhaustive
questions and replies as to health, etcetera, the old man conducted his
visitor to his hut and set food before him. He was a solitary old
fellow, but imbued with that virtue of hospitality which is inculcated
so much among the people.
Having replied to the wood-cutter's first inquiry that he was "going
yonder," Mamba now saw fit to explain that "yonder" meant Tamatave.
"I want to see the great Missionary Ellis before he leaves the country."
The wood-cutter shook his head. "You are too late, I fear. He passed
down to the coast some weeks ago. The Queen has ordered him to depart.
She is mad against all the praying people."
"Are _you_ one of the praying people?" asked Mamba, with direct
simplicity.
"Yes, and I know that _you_ are," answered the wood-cutter with a smile.
"How know you that?"
"Did I not see your lips move and your eyes look up when you approached
me on arriving?"
"True, I prayed to Jesus," said Mamba, "that I might be made use of to
help you, or you to help me."
"Then your prayer is doubly answered," returned the old man, "for we can
each help the other. I can give you food and lodging. You can carry a
message to Tamatave for me."
"That is well. I shall be glad to help you. What is your message?"
"It is a message to the missionary, Ellis, if you find him still there;
but even if he is gone you will find a praying one who can help me.
Long have I prayed to the lord that he would send one of his people here
to take my message. Some came who looked like praying people, but I was
afraid to ask them, and perhaps they were afraid to speak; for, as you
know, the Queen's spies are abroad everywhere now, and if they find one
whom they suspect of praying to Jesus they seize him and drag him away
to the ordeal of `tangena'--perhaps to torture and death. But now you
have come, and my prayer is answered. `He is faithful who has
promised.' Look here."
The old man went to a corner of the hut, and returned with two soiled
pieces of paper in his hand.
Sitting down, he spread them carefully on his knees. Mamba recognised
them at once as being two leaves out of a Malagasy Bible. Soiled, worn,
and slightly torn they were, from long and frequent use, but still
readable. On one of them was the twenty-third Psalm, which the old
wood-cutter began to read with slow and intense interest.
"Is it not grand," he said, looking up at his young guest with a flush
of joy in his care-worn old face, "to think that after this weary
wood-cutting is over we shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever?
No more toiling and hauling and splitting; above all, no more sin--
nothing but praise and work for Him. And how hard I could work for
Him!"
"Strange!" said Mamba, while the old man gazed at the two soiled leaves
as if lost in meditation, "strange that you should show this to me. I
have come--but tell me," he said, breaking off abruptly, "what do you
wish me to do?"
"This," said the old man, pointing to the leaves, as though he had not
heard the question, "is all that I possess of the Word of God. Ah! well
do I remember the time--many years past now--when I had the whole Bible.
It was such a happy time then--when good King Radama reigned, and the
missionaries had schools and churches and meetings--when we prayed and
sang to our heart's content, and the Bible was printed, by the wonderful
machines brought by the white men, in our own language, and we learned
to read it. I was young then, and strong; but I don't think my heart
was so warm as it is now! Learning to read was hard--hard; but the Lord
made me able, and when I got a Bible all to myself I thought there was
nothing more to wish for. But the good Radama died, and Ranavalona sits
upon his throne. You know she has burned many Bibles. Mine was found
and burned, but she did not suspect me. I suppose I am too poor and
worthless for her to care about! Perhaps we did not think enough of the
happy times when we had them! A brother gave me these two leaves. They
are all that I have left now."
Again the old man paused, and the younger forbore to interrupt his
thoughts. Presently he looked up, and continued, "When the missionary
Ellis was on his way to the coast I met him and asked for a Bible. He
had not a spare one to give me. He was very sorry, but said if I could
find any one going to Tamatave who would carry a Bible back to me, he
would send one. Now you have come. Will you see the great missionary,
or, if he is away, find one of the other men of God, and fetch me a
Bible?"
There was a trembling earnestness in the old wood-cutter's voice which
showed how eager he was about the answer. Mamba readily promised, and
then, after singing and praying together, these like-minded men retired
to rest.
Next morning Mamba pursued his way eastward with rapid step, for he was
anxious--yet with a glad heart, for he was hopeful. Many things of
interest were presented to his gaze, but though he observed them well he
did not suffer them to turn him aside for a moment from his purpose--
which was to reach Tamatave in the shortest possible time, so as to meet
and converse with the missionary before he should quit the island.
Mamba was of an inquiring disposition. In ordinary circumstances he
would have paused frequently to rest and meditate and pray. He would
have turned aside to examine anything peculiar in his track, or even to
watch the operations of a spider, or the gambols of a butterfly; but now
he had "business" on hand, and set his face like a flint to transact it.
The distance from the capital to Tamatave was nearly two hundred miles.
There were dangers in the way. As we have said, the Queen's spies were
everywhere. Mamba's wounds and bruises were still sufficiently obvious
to attract attention and rouse curiosity, if not suspicion.
At one part of the journey he came upon some criminals in long chains
which extended from their necks to their ankles. They were doing work
on the roads under a guard. He would fain have conversed with these
men, but, fearing to be questioned, turned aside into the shelter of a
plantation and passed stealthily by.
At another place he came to a ferry where, when he was about to enter
the boat, two men stepped in before him whom he knew to be government
officers and suspected to be spies. To have drawn suddenly back without
apparent reason would have proclaimed a guilty conscience. To go
forward was to lay himself open to question and suspicion, for he had
prepared no tissue of falsehoods for the occasion. There was no time
for thought, only for prayer. He committed his soul to God as he
entered the boat, and then began to converse with the boatman in as easy
and natural a tone of voice as he could assume. Having to face the
boatman for this purpose enabled him to turn his back upon the
government officers. Scarce knowing what he said in the perturbation of
his spirit, his first question was rather absurd--
"Did you ever upset in crossing here?" he asked.
"Of course not!" replied the boatman, with a look of offended dignity.
"Ha! then," continued Mamba, who quickly recovered his equanimity, "then
you don't know what it is to feel the teeth of a crocodile?"
"No, I don't, and hope I never shall. Did you?"
"Oh yes," returned Mamba, "I have felt them."
This was true; for it happened that when he was a little boy, his mother
had taken him down to the side of a river where she had some washing to
do, and while she was not looking the urchin waded in, and a crocodile
made a snap at him. Fortunately it failed to catch him, but its sharp
teeth grazed his thigh, and left a mark which he never afterwards lost.
"Where did that happen?" asked the boatman, when the other had briefly
stated the fact--for the passage was too short to permit of a story
being told.
"In the Betsilio country."
"That's a long way off."
"Yes, a long way. I left my old mother there. I'm going to Tamatave to
buy her a present. Now, my friend," said Mamba, in a bantering tone, as
the boat ran into the opposite bank, "take care never to upset your
boat, because crocodile teeth are wonderfully sharp!"
Mamba had the satisfaction of hearing the two officers chuckle at his
little joke, and the boatman growl indignantly, as he leaped ashore and
sedately strode away with a sigh of relief and thankfulness for having
made what he deemed a narrow escape.
The road to Tamatave was by no means lonely, for, being the highway from
the seaport to the capital, there was constant traffic both of
travellers and of merchandise. There were also great droves of cattle
making their way to the coast--for a large part of the wealth of the
chiefs and nobles of the land consists of cattle, which are exported to
the islands of Bourbon and Mauritius, and disposed of to the shipping
that come there for supplies.
At last Mamba reached Tamatave, footsore, worn, and weary, and went
straight to the house of friend--a native of wealth and importance in
the town, and one whom he knew to be a Christian. From him he learned,
to his great joy, that Mr Ellis had not yet left the place, and that he
hoped to be permitted still to remain there for some time.
It was dark when Mamba arrived, and rather late; but he was too anxious
to transact his "business" to wait till morning. Having ascertained
where the missionary lived, he went there direct, and was ushered into
his sitting-room.
"You wish to converse with me," said Mr Ellis, in a kind voice, and in
the native tongue, as he placed a chair for his visitor--who, however,
preferred to stand.
"Yes, I come from very far away--from the Betsilio country. My mother
dwells there, and she is a praying one--a follower of Jesus. She loves
the Word of God. I heard that you had brought the Bible to us from your
own land--printed in our language, and so I have come to ask you for a
Bible."
"Have you come all that long journey to procure the Word of God?" asked
the missionary, much interested.
"Yes--that is my business," replied Mamba.
Although Mr Ellis liked the look of his visitor, and was strongly
disposed to believe him, he had too much knowledge of the native
character to place immediate confidence in him. Besides, the man being
a stranger to him, and possibly one of the government spies, he feared
to comply at once with his request, lest he should hasten his own
banishment from the island. He replied, therefore, with caution.
"I cannot give you what you want to-night," he said, "but you may call
on me again to-morrow, and I will speak with you."
This answer did not at all satisfy the eager heart of the poor fellow
who had travelled so far and risked so much. His countenance showed the
state of his feelings so strongly that the sympathetic missionary laid
his hand kindly on his shoulder, bade him cheer up, and asked for his
name as well as the name of some one in Tamatave who knew him.
"Now then, Mamba," he said, as they were about to part, "don't be cast
down. Come here to see me to-morrow. Come early."
Comforted a little--more by the missionary's look and tone than by his
words,--Mamba took his departure.
Meanwhile Mr Ellis made inquiries, visited the friend to whom he had
been referred, and found that not only was Mamba a good and true man,
but that many of his family "feared the Lord greatly."
When, therefore, his anxious visitor returned very early the following
morning, he was ready for him.
"I am assured that you are a Christian, Mamba," he said, "as well as
many of your kindred."
"Yes, I love the Lord, and so do many of my kinsmen. But my family is
large and scattered."
"Have any of them got the Scriptures?"
"They have seen and heard them," returned Mamba, "but all that we
possess are a few pages of the words of David. These belong to the
whole family. We send them from one to another, and each, after keeping
them for a time, passes them on, until they have been read by all. They
are in my hands just now."
"Have you them with you?" asked the missionary. Mamba did not reply at
once. He seemed unwilling to answer, but at last confessed that he had.
"Will you not show them to me? Surely you can trust me, brother!"
Mamba at length made up his mind. Thrusting his hand deep into his
bosom, he drew a parcel from the folds of his lamba. This he slowly and
carefully opened. One piece of cloth after another being unrolled,
there appeared at length a few leaves of the Book of Psalms, which he
cautiously handed to Mr Ellis.
Though it was evident that the greatest care had been taken of that
much-prized portion of Scripture, the soiled appearance of the leaves,
worn edges, and other marks of frequent use--like the two leaves owned
by the wood-cutter--showed how much they had been read.
Even Mamba's anxiety was allayed by the tender way in which the
missionary handled his treasure, and the interest in it that he
displayed.
"Now, my friend," said Mr Ellis, still holding the tattered leaves,
which Mamba seemed anxious to get back, "if you will give me these few
words of David, I will give you _all_ his words; and I will give you,
besides, the words of Jesus, and of John, and Paul and Peter. See--here
they are."
Saying which, he handed to his visitor a copy of the New Testament and
Psalms, in Malagasy, bound together.
But Mamba did not leap at this gift as might have been expected. Either
it seemed to him to be too good news to be true, or he was of a
sceptical turn of mind. At all events he was not satisfied until he had
sat down with the missionary and assured himself that every verse in his
ragged treasure was contained in the presented volume, and a great deal
more besides. Then he let the old treasure go, and joyfully accepted
the new, which, he said, he was going to carry back to his mother who
greatly longed for it.
Before retiring with it, however, he mentioned his friend the
wood-cutter, whom Mr Ellis remembered well, and gladly gave another
Testament to be taken back to him. Then, uttering expressions of
fervent gratitude, Mamba left the house.
In the course of that day the missionary inquired after his visitor,
wishing to have further converse with him, but the Christians of
Tamatave told him that Mamba had started off, almost immediately after
quitting him, on his long return journey to Betsilio-land--doubtless
"rejoicing as one that findeth great spoil."
Dust was not allowed to accumulate on the Bibles of Madagascar in those
days!