The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar Part 10

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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 cutla.s.s 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 att.i.tude 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 fas.h.i.+on--a mode of expressing friends.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sembled 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 antic.i.p.ating 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 c.o.c.ks...o...b.." said Hockins. "I know the breed well-- lots of 'em everywhere."

"Jus' so--a born idjit; go on, ma.s.sa," 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 superst.i.tions, 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 pa.s.sed 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 superst.i.tious 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 superst.i.tious. 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.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A FRIEND APPEARS UNEXPECTEDLY, AND OUR TRAVELLERS SPEND A DISTURBED NIGHT.

Whatever ethereal persons may say to the contrary, there can be no doubt whatever that the consumption of food is an intellectual treat, inasmuch as it sets the body free from the cravings of appet.i.te, and by stimulating those nervous influences which convey vigour and vitality to the brain, not only becomes the direct cause of physical gratification, but induces that state of mind which is most favourable to the development of the interesting creations of fancy and the brilliant coruscations of imagination.

We might pursue this subject further did time and s.p.a.ce permit; but our objection to "skipping" is so great, that we shrink from giving the reader even a shadow of excuse for doing so. Moreover we dread the a.s.sault of the hypercritical reader, who will infallibly object that it is not "the consumption of food," but the resulting mental effect which is the "intellectual treat." As if we did not know that! "But," we would retort with scorn, "can any cause be separated from its effect without bringing about, so to speak, the condition of nonent.i.ty?"