"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.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A NARROW ESCAPE AND THREATENING CLOUDS.

Their progress after leaving the spot described in the last chapter was not so rapid as could have been desired by anxious men, for it was absolutely necessary to proceed with extreme caution.

Not only were the Queen's troops out in various directions, but many of her spies had been seen prowling about, like the evil one they served, seeking whom they could devour. Of this the travellers were made aware at the first villages they came to; and as Ravonino had formerly been well-known at the capital, it became necessary for him not only to disguise himself, but to keep as much as possible out of sight.

Disguising himself was not very difficult, owing to the fact that when he lived in Antananarivo he had, like his father, worn a bushy beard. This had made him a marked man, for the Malagasy, as a rule, have little beard, and what little they possess is usually pulled out by the roots. Since he became a fugitive the guide had shaved closely. This of itself went a long way to change his appearance; but when, in addition, he had modified the arrangement of his hair, and stained his face of a darker hue, he had made himself almost unrecognisable, even by his best friends. His chief difficulty was with his voice, which had a mellow sweetness in it that resisted modification. However, by keeping silence, or speaking low, he hoped to escape recognition until he should reach the vicinity of the capital, where he had friends who would gladly receive and conceal him, even at the risk of their lives.

As to the great object that lay nearest his heart, he hoped to manage that through his friend Laihova, without himself entering the capital.

Our travellers soon reached the inhabited part of the country, where, being surrounded by men and women going about, as well as journeying towards the Antananarivo market with provisions, etcetera, they ceased to attract much attention. Of course the Englishmen were subjects of curiosity—sometimes of inquiry,—but as Laihova reported that they were men who had been cast on the southern coast of the island, and whom he was guiding to the capital, suspicion was not aroused.

Laihova at this point became leader of the party, in order to enable the guide more easily to fall into the background; and he was all the more fitted for the position in that he had acquired a smattering of English from his friend Ravonino, and could both understand much of what was said to him and also make himself pretty well understood by his white friends.

This part of the journey was by no means without adventure, sometimes of a kind that filled them with anxiety.

One evening they approached a small hamlet, or group of cottages, where they learned, among other things, that two of the Queen's spies were at that moment in the neighbourhood, searching for two ladies of the Court who had fled because Ranavalona had threatened them with imprisonment.

"Are they young?" asked Ravonino, forgetting his caution in his anxiety.

"I know not," replied the man who had informed them of the fact. "I think some one told me they were not young—but I forget."

The guide said no more. He regretted having said so much, for the man glanced at him suspiciously.

Affecting an air of unconcern he turned away and bade his comrades follow.

"Come," he said, when out of ear-shot of the man, "we must pass through this village quickly, for we know not in what house the spies may have taken up their quarters."

"But, don' you tink," suggested Ebony, "dat we five could wallop any oder five men in de univarse, to say not'ing ob two spies?"

A grim smile was all the reply that the guide gave him, as he walked quickly along the path that led out of the hamlet.

"I have a friend," he said to Mark, "who lives in a solitary cottage half-a-mile further on. He is rich, and, I think, a Christian man—but secretly, for fear of the Queen. We will call at his house in passing."

As he spoke, they approached a large house by the roadside, the owner of which, a brown old gentleman, was enjoying himself with his wife and family in front of it.

"Is that your friend?" asked Mark.

"No; he lives in the house just beyond. We shall see it on clearing this group of trees."

The track which they were following led close past the large house above referred to, necessitating compliance with a custom of the country, which greatly surprised, and not a little amused, the Englishmen.

We have spoken of the residence as a house, because it belonged to one owner, but it would be more correct to call it a farm-steading, or a group of buildings. Except among the very poorest people, a Malagasy family has usually two or three houses in its enclosure—frequently more, for young married people often live beside their parents, and some houses are appropriated to slaves, while others are used as kitchens, etcetera, the whole being surrounded by a wall of clay. Where a house is near the public road they have usually a little square platform, called the fijerena, in an angle of the wall, or at the gate, with steps leading up to it. Here the family sits, when the work of the day is over, to watch—and, doubtless, to criticise—the passers-by; also to do the polite according to Malagasy ideas, for it must be told that these people are very courteous. Even the poorest have a natural dignity and ease of manner about them.

As our travellers approached the house they were observed with much interest by the brown old gentleman and his comfortable-looking wife, and his pretty little light-brown daughter, and a very uncomfortable-looking elderly female with her head tied up, who were all squatted on the fijerena.

When within hearing Laihova stopped, and said in the politest tone and manner possible—

"Will you allow me to pass, sir?"

"Pray proceed, sir," replied the old gentleman, with a gracious smile.

This interchange of civilities was entirely formal, and stood in the place of the Englishman's opening remarks on the weather, to which a Malagasy would as soon think of referring, in this connection, as he would to the hatching of crocodiles' eggs.

Then followed the conventional inquiry, "How are you? How is it with you?" which politenesses, in a number of variations unknown to Western speech, would have been continued, in ordinary circumstances, until the passers-by were beyond the range of hearing; but the appearance of the Englishmen induced the brown old gentleman on this occasion to beg the travellers to stop and accept his hospitality. This they declined to do, with many expressions of regret, on the ground that their business at the capital was urgent.

"It would have gratified me much," said the old gentleman, "to have entertained you. But you are all well, I hope?"

"Yes, we are very well," answered Laihova; "and how do you feel?"

"I feel as well as possible. And is it well with you?"

"It is well with us. But it does not seem to be well with the lady," returned Laihova, glancing at the uncomfortable female with her head tied up.

"No, it is not well with her. She has toothache on the north side of her head. Farewell," said the brown old gentleman, re-squatting on the fijerena, as the travellers moved on; "may you live," he shouted after them, when nearly out of ear-shot, "and reach old age."

Great was the amusement of our travellers at all this, especially when Ravonino explained about the toothache. "You must know," he said, "that almost all the houses in the central provinces of the island are built with their length running north and south, or nearly so, and the people use the points of the compass in describing the position of things. Thus, if they tell a slave to look for a thing in the house, they will say, Look in the north, south, east, or west corner, or side; and they apply this rule to the person also. I once heard the member of a mission from England told by his host that some rice was sticking to his moustache. The missionary wiped the wrong side. 'No,' said the host, 'it is on the southern side of your moustache.'"

"Do you know," said Mark Breezy, "that is not so strange to me as you might suppose; for I was once told by a friend who lived in the Scottish Highlands, that an old woman there actually said to her that she had toothache on the east side of her head!"

Further comment on this point was arrested by their coming suddenly in sight of the house where the guide's friend dwelt.

"You had better stay here at the edge of this wood, while I go forward alone," said the guide; "because although the man is kind, and has always professed to be my friend, I am not quite sure of him. It is well to be cautious. If I wave my hand to you, come up to the house, all will be well. If things don't seem favourable I will return to you—but keep close; don't show yourselves needlessly. You see, my friend is an officer of the palace. If friendly he can be very useful to us, if unfriendly he can be dangerous."

"But why run risk by going near him at all?" asked Mark.

"We must run risk when life and death are in the balance," replied the guide, shortly.

Concealed by the bushes, the travellers watched their companion as he went up to the house. Before he reached it a man opened the door and stepped out. Suddenly this man seemed to burst into a furious passion. He grasped Ravonino by the throat, almost threw him on his back, and, seizing a stick, began to belabour him violently, while two other men appeared at the door of the house, and, from their inordinate laughter, seemed fully to enjoy the scene.

"Hi!" exclaimed Ebony in shrill falsetto, as he jumped up in blazing wrath, intending to rush to the rescue, but Hockins grasped his woolly head and pulled him back.

"Obey orders, you black grampus! D'ee think he's a babby as can't take care of himself? Didn't he tell us to keep close?"

Great as had been the surprise of the watchers at this sudden and unprovoked assault, it was as nothing compared with their astonishment when they saw their guide fairly turn tail and run towards them, closely followed by the furious man, who continued to thrash him all the time.

As Ravonino drew near, the angry man seemed to have exhausted himself, for he fell behind, and finally stopped. The guide ran on at full speed until he reached the wood, but did not even then slacken his speed. As he ran past his friends, however, he exclaimed in a sharp, stern voice—

"Follow me!"

Laihova obeyed with the unquestioning readiness of a faithful hound. The others followed suit with the open eyes of perplexity and amazement!

Reaching a sequestered dell in a few minutes, Ravonino suddenly stopped and turned round with a calm air of satisfaction.

"Well, dis am de most awrful supprise I'se had since my mudder give me my fust wollopin'."

The expression on the negro's face rendered the remark needless.

"It was well done," said the guide, seating himself on the trunk of a fallen tree.

"A'most too well done!" returned Hockins, with a touch of sarcasm.

"Do you know," continued the guide gravely, "I've had a narrow escape? The two men you saw laughing at the door are the very men we have been trying to avoid,—the Queen's spies,—whom I have long known, and who would certainly have discovered me in spite of my shaved and stained face if we had come to talk to each other in the same room. Luckily my friend is smart as well as true. He knew my voice at once. To have talked with me, or warned me, or let me enter his house, would have been fatal. His only resource lay in thrashing me off his premises—as you have seen. How he will explain matters to the spies I know not, but I can trust him for that."

"Das most awrful clebber!" exclaimed Ebony, his every feature broadening with delight at the success of the ruse.

"But what are we to do now?" asked Mark.

"Wait till he comes here. He told me to wait."

"What! Told you?"

"Ay—you don't suppose he let his tongue lie idle while he was using his stick. Of course I was myself taken aback at first when he seized me by the throat, but two or three muttered words in the midst of his anger opened my eyes, and I ran at once. All the way as he ran after and belaboured me he was giving me important information in furious tones! The spies are only staying with him for a short rest. When they are gone he will come and find us here."

"He's a born actor," said Hockins.

"True—and he acted some of his blows heavier than I could have wished, in his anxiety to impress his information on me!" said the guide.

"What is his name?" asked Mark.

"Fisatra. He is named after a great chief who lived in this district not long ago.—But here he comes to speak for himself."

At that moment a tall, fine-looking man, of very dark complexion, and clad in the ample folds of a beautiful lamba, approached them. His whole countenance was wrinkled with the lines of fun, and his brilliant teeth glistened as he smilingly held out his hand to the Englishmen, and asked them to accept his hospitality.

As they passed into the house they saw two slave-girls pounding rice in a large wooden mortar, with two enormous wooden pestles, while the savoury steam that arose from some invisible kitchen served to put a finer edge on their already sharpened appetites.

When the mats were spread, and the feast was being enjoyed, Ravonino asked the host how he had got rid of the spies, and how he managed to explain his conduct without raising their suspicions.

"Nothing easier," said Fisatra, while his broad shoulders heaved with an inward chuckle. "You know that I used to be feared in the palace in days gone bye because of my violent nature, and the way in which I used to knock about the furniture and make the household slaves—sometimes the household troops—scurry when I was in a rage. Yet I'm sure you know very well, (he looked sheepishly innocent here), that I never was an angry man—at least not a cruel one. But that's all changed. I am one of your set now, though no one suspects it. Since I met Mr Ellis—"

"Is Mr Ellis here just now?" interrupted Ravonino, anxiously.

"Not now," answered Fisatra; "he departed some weeks ago, but I believe has not yet left the coast. And now there is no check on the Queen's violence. Well, as I was about to say, I took to the old habit in pretence, as you have seen, and when I returned from thrashing you I went storming through the house, kicking about the pots and pans, and foaming at the mouth in such a way that I not only stopped the spies laughing, but put them in fear of their lives."

Again the fun-wrinkles corrugated the visage of Fisatra, and his mighty shoulders heaved with internal explosions.

"After I had calmed down a bit," he continued, "the spies ventured to ask timidly if that was a great enemy that I had beaten. This set me into, a worse passion than ever. 'Enemy?' I shouted 'no—no—not an enemy—he—he's a—a—' but I got no further than that, for I didn't know what to say, and I wouldn't lie, so I took to foaming and stamping again! At last I said, 'Don't speak to me about him—excuse me, my friends; I can't stand it—and—and the rice is nearly ready. You must be hungry!' I said this with a look and tone as if another fit was coming on. They excused themselves. 'No,' they said, 'we are not hungry, and we have yet far to go this day before the sun descends. The Queen's orders will not wait.' And off they went, glad to get out of my way. Truly, if it is sinful to get in a rage, it is useful sometimes to act it! So now, my friends, eat—eat—while you have the chance, and fear not the return of the spies!"

"Tell me," said the guide, anxiously, "are you sure that Rafaravavy is still safe?"

"She is still safe—but no one knows how long that may be, for she is fearless, and utters the forbidden prayers even in the presence of the Queen. If it had not been for the love that Ranavalona bears her, she would have been tossed from the 'rock of hurling' long ago."

"Faithful, even unto death," said the guide, with a look and tone in which pathos and triumph were strangely blended.

"She has not yet been tried to that extent, but if she is, God will enable her to stand firm," said Fisatra, whose grave child-like sincerity, when talking of religious subjects, was not less impulsively honest and natural than were the outbursts of his fun when another humour stirred his feelings.

The "rock" to which he alluded was a frightful precipice at one side of the city from which criminals were usually hurled—a spot which is hallowed by the blood of many Christian martyrs who perished there during the long reign of that tyrant queen Ranavalona.

"Has then the queen forbidden the Christians to pray?" asked Ravonino.

"Have you not heard?—but of course you have not, being an outlaw and having only just returned. Recently a very bad fit has come over the Queen. You know that for some years past there have been a few French people living in Antananarivo, who by their knowledge and skill in mechanics and mercantile matters have made themselves useful to our government. These men lately tried to dethrone the Queen, on pretence of delivering the country from her cruelties, and establishing a 'French Protectorate.' They gained over some of our chief men, collected in one of their houses a large quantity of weapons and ammunition, and had even fixed the night when the palace was to be invaded, the Queen seized, and the Protectorate set up. Fortunately the plot came to my knowledge. I say fortunately, because a bad queen is better than a French Protectorate, for the first will die, but the latter might never end! Well, I at once informed the Queen, who had the conspirators seized and banished from the country for ever. Among them were a Roman Catholic lady and two Jesuits. The anger of the Queen was of course very great, and she has had, as I have said, a very bad fit against the Christians; for, as these unprincipled conspirators have the name though none of the reality of Christians, she naturally mixed us all up together—and I know not what the end will be, but I have much fear, because the Queen is very angry."

"Has she done nothing yet?" asked Ravonino.

"Nothing—except threaten and fume. But when the black cloud is overhead, and muttering thunder is heard, one knows too well what to expect—especially when one has been exposed to the storm in former years."

"The sun is shining behind the black cloud and it will break through when the Master wills," said Laihova, joining in the conversation for the first time that evening, and looking earnestly at his friend Ravonino, as if the words were meant for his ear alone—as indeed they were.

"Thanks, thanks, my friend, for the comforting words," said Ravonino, "and I take shame to myself that my faith is so weak."

"You will spend the night with me?" said their host to the guide.

"No, Fisatra, I dare not delay. Even now I may be too late. I will journey all night."

Ravonino rose quickly and prepared to go. The others followed his example, and soon the party was proceeding rapidly along the high-road towards the capital, under a cloudless sky and a galaxy of twinkling stars.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

ARRIVAL AT THE CAPITAL—QUEEN RANAVALONA'S TROUBLES AND PERPLEXITIES.

Towards sunrise on the following morning our travellers, on passing out of a rather dense piece of plantation which crowned the brow of a low hill, came in sight of the capital—Antananarivo. It was still in the far distance, with many a rice-field and garden between, but distinctly visible, for it occupies the summit and slopes of a considerable hill.

"Here, then, through the goodness of God, we have reached the end of our journey," said Ravonino, halting, "and I must remain behind, while you, my friends, push on to the city. Fain would I go with you, but that would ruin all, for I am a known and marked man. Laihova will now guide you, and tell you what to do. I have just one word for you at parting. Be peaceful, do not take offence. Interfere not with our customs. Use not the fist, and commit your way to God."

The guide looked so pointedly at Ebony while he spoke that that sable comrade could not help noticing it.

"What you looks so hard at me for, hey?" demanded the negro.

"Because you are somewhat hot-tempered and apt to get people into scrapes," answered Ravonino, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Me 'ot-tempered!" exclaimed Ebony, in surprise, with an appealing glance at his comrades. "I'd knock you down, Ravonino, for sayin' dat, only it would be like as if what you say's true! Ob all de niggers on 'art' I's de meekest, quietest—jest like a babby; why, my moder always said so, an' surely she ought to know!"

"No doubt she knew, whatever she said," observed Hockins, with a laugh.

"We will be careful," said Mark. "But are your people, then, so particular, that we should require this caution?"

"Well, they are not very different from other people," replied the guide, "and if things had been as usual I should have had no fear; but when Queen Ranavalona has one of her bad fits, there's no saying what she may do. Her banishing the Europeans is a bad sign. I would that I had not brought you here, but there is no help for it now. We have been seen by many people. The news will spread to the town, and if you did not soon appear you would be suspected as spies, and the country would be scoured in search of you. No, there is nothing for it now but a bold face and an honest purpose."

"Humph!" ejaculated Ebony, "you's a fine feller to talk 'bout bold faces an' honest purpusses, w'en you're goin' to steal a young ooman out ob de pallis, fro' under de bery nose ob do queen!"

"To help Rafaravavy to escape of her own free will is not theft," replied the guide, gravely. "When we are persecuted in one city Scripture advises us to flee to another."

"Das true, Ravonino. No offence meant. Gib us your flipper, old boy!"

Grasping the guide's hand, the negro shook it warmly, and at the same time vowed that he would be most "awrful careful," and that he would bring Rafaravavy to his feet, dead or alive, though he should have to fight the whole town single-handed to effect his object.

It was a Thursday evening when they stood thus conversing. They had kept count of the days because of the guide's quiet but firm determination to rest in camp on the Sabbath—a plan which, although they had no very strong principle on the subject, commended itself to the rest of the party because of the pleasant effect of the day's rest on both soul and body, for it afforded opportunity to have long and earnest talks with Ravonino about the former days of persecution, as well as quiet strolls, alone or in couples, and—it must be admitted— occasional slumbers in the cool shade of bush or tree!

"I have purposely contrived," said the guide, "that, by walking all night, you shall arrive early to-morrow—Friday—because it is market-day in the town, and you will be less noticed, as well as more amused by what you see, than if you were to arrive on any other day. Go, and God go with you! I shall be found in the cave that Laihova knows of. Farewell."

He turned, with a wave of his hand, as he spoke, and re-entered the bush, while the others, taking the most direct route to Antananarivo, descended into the open country. Soon they were involved in the crowds which were passing along all the roads leading to the city. The people were either taking their goods for sale or going to make purchases— mayhap to meet friends or kindred.

All night Laihova led his friends at a smart pace. Next day, as the first object of our travellers was to get into the town without attracting attention, they kept in the thick of the throng all the way up to the market-place. Of course the people nearest them took special note of the two Englishmen, and some were inquisitive, but, by telling the simple facts regarding their arrival in Madagascar, Laihova removed any unpleasant suspicions that might have arisen regarding them.

The crowds increased as they advanced, and the numbers were still further augmented, as well as diversified, by the Hova army, which they came upon exercising on a plain just below the city. Ascending the sides of the steep hill on which Antananarivo stands, they obtained a magnificent view of the animated scene, which conveyed the impression rather of a grand holiday than an ordinary market-day. This, no doubt, was largely owing to the operations of the soldiers, whose manoeuvres Hockins watched with a critical eye, for his father, having been a soldier, had made him intimately acquainted with the drill as practised in the British army at that period.

"Why, I do believe the fellers are speakin' English!" he said, in some surprise.

"Not wonder much, for Ingleesh drill'd um," said Laihova, who, since they parted from Ravonino, had begun to use his broken English to the best of his power. It must be said that that power was not great, even at the best.

He explained to his friends that Radama the First—that wise king who had been so fond of the English, and had done so much to aid the missionaries, abolish the slave-trade, and civilise his people—had, among other changes, remodelled his army after the British pattern, and had obtained the services of non-commissioned officers from the Mauritius to drill his troops. These organised them into divisions, brigades, regiments, companies, etcetera, and as they found no native words suitable to express military evolutions, they introduced their own English words of command, which have remained in use ever since.

By means of this army of Hova troops, and the flint-lock weapon known familiarly as 'Brown Bess,' Radama succeeded in subduing all the native chiefs of Madagascar, with only a few exceptions, and thus became the recognised king of an island considerably larger than Great Britain. Being an enlightened and well-disposed monarch, he made good use of the power thus acquired. It was only after his death in 1828 that a retrograde movement set in, as we have said, under the wicked Queen Ranavalona.

It is one of the misfortunes of our fallen condition that rectitude in any course, however good, cannot long be maintained—at least in reasonable perfection. The army which had enabled Radama to pursue on the whole a beneficent course, ere long began to make its creator know its power. Feeling his dependence on it, Radama adopted the unwise policy of increasing the military influence, and weakening that of the civil officials, the heads of the people, and other functionaries whose position was derived from ancient political arrangements. Public offices of honour and importance were given to military officers rather than to civilians, and this unfair exaltation of the military over the civilian class led, as it always does, to tyranny and injustice.

The system of service was in itself a gross form of injustice to the people, for, although the theory of service does not at first sight appear unjust, the practice of it was very much so. More than the half—perhaps nearly two-thirds—of the whole effective male population of the central province were enrolled either as officers or privates. These received no pay, except an occasional gift of a lamba, and about a week's rice during the year! The soldiers were indeed freed from money taxes in consideration of their service, but this was small compensation for the hardships that it entailed. Although the drills at ordinary times did not occur more frequently than for a day or two every fortnight, much time was taken up in passing to and from the exercises, especially in the case of those who lived at a distance, and thus found it almost impossible to cultivate their own rice-fields. Frequently, also, the officers would not allow the men to return home without a money bribe. In short, the private soldier was little better than a slave—in some cases worse—while the officers of the highest rank possessed unreasonable power.

Military rank was founded on a system which led to some absurdities. It was reckoned by numbers, commencing with one honour for the private, two honours for the corporal, three for the sergeant, and so on up to thirteen for a field-marshal of the higher rank—a few having sixteen honours! Those thus highly honoured were not numerous; but the number of officers of lower grade was much greater in proportion to privates, than in the British army. Indeed from a third to a fourth of the army was composed of officers, so that "ta Phairshon," with his excess of pipers over fighting men, would not have appeared very outrageous in the eyes of the Malagasy troops!

These officers had an eye to profitable business when not on service. It is stated by the missionaries that when engaged in building their churches and schools they sometimes found they had a field-marshal for a foreman, a colonel for mason or carpenter, a major for bricklayer, and so on! Above the thirteenth rank the numbers were very few, and of the sixteenth there were not above half-a-dozen.

Good, stout, courageous fellows were the men whom John Hockins and his comrades saw that day manoeuvring below them on the plain of Imahamasina; men who, although by no means comparable to European troops in precision of movement, understood their work nevertheless, and would have proved themselves formidable opponents to deal with in war. Laihova further informed them that the first man who organised the force was a Sergeant Brady, who began his work in the year 1816, carried it on for many years, and rose to the rank of major-general in the service of King Radama. After General Brady's death, the native officers continued the work on the same lines.

But in costume and appearance these soldiers were what is familiarly known as "a queer lot!" The uniform of the rank and file consisted of a tunic and trousers of white material, with a narrow-brimmed straw hat painted white, cross-belts and cartouche-box—by no means an unbecoming dress. But it was worn only at drills and reviews and state ceremonies. At other times, when on duty, soldiers went about almost naked, and the contrast of their dirty-white cross-belts with their brown breasts was curious, to say the least, while their straw hats and slovenly gait suggested anything but soldierly bearing.

The variety of dress indulged in, however, by the crowd of officers was outrageous as well as mirth-provoking.

"Why it seems to me," said Mark, "that every officer may put on what seemeth right in his own eyes! I see old regimental red coats and pantaloons; hats and shakos that must have been worn a hundred years ago. I even see what looks at this distance like naval uniforms and cocked hats, and no two of them seem to be dressed alike."

Mark looked inquiringly at Laihova as he spoke, but that dignified native merely smiled, and made a slight inclination of his head, as if to say, "Just so, that's the way we do it here!"

"Why do they let civilians mix wi' them?" asked Hockins, pointing to a particular part of the field.

"To keep 'em cibil, I s'pose," suggested Ebony.

"Where?" asked Laihova, with a puzzled look.

"There—don't you see 'em? Fellers all in black—with bell-toppers— beavers—chimney-pots on—I don't know what you call 'em here."

"Them be officers too," said Laihova.

And this was true, for the higher grades of officers usually appeared at drill in a full suit of black cloth, with the common black silk hat doing duty as a helmet, and contrasting oddly enough with the rough home-made scabbardless sword, which was carried naked in the hand.

On some occasions, as our travellers afterwards learned, these regiments turned out in every variety of costume, with coats, hats, vests, and trousers, of all colours and patterns—as if they had been got up by an extensive dealer in old clothes. This passion for variety even extended to the officers of the palace, with whom, however, the material was of the best as well as gayest—for they were all gorgeously clad in blue and scarlet cloth; and velvet, with gold and silver lace, embroidery, feathers, etcetera,—but what nation, even in the so-called civilised world, is free from barbarism in this respect?

One pair of eyes beheld this review on that Friday with something of fiendish satisfaction. These belonged to no less a personage than Queen Ranavalona herself. High up on the balcony of her palace she sat under the shade of a scarlet umbrella.

That very day she had had an angry interview with her Prime Minister, Rainiharo, in reference to her only child Prince Rakota, who was a young man of mild gentle disposition, as kind to the Christians as his mother was cruel and unjust. Indeed it was believed that he himself was among the Christians, for he dared openly to defend them before his mother, and often protected them secretly from her violence. Rainiharo, the Prime Minister, on the contrary, was their bitter foe, and in his interview with the Queen above mentioned, had ventured to accuse the prince of aiding in the protection of those who practised the proscribed religion.

The one redeeming point in the character of Ranavalona was her love for this son. When asked to punish the prince for his conduct, she would say in tones of tenderness that seldom issued from her lips, "Is he not my son—my only son?" Alas! she had little pity for the son or daughter of any one else, whether "only" or otherwise!

The dress of Ranavalona, as she sat in her balcony under her scarlet umbrella observing the troops, was gorgeous, but the greater part of it was hidden under the voluminous folds of the scarlet lamba of finest English broad-cloth, with which her person was enveloped. Here and there, however, portions of a rich silk dress of European manufacture could be seen, as well as various gold and silver rings, bracelets, chains, charms, and ornaments of ivory. Scarlet being the royal colour, only the Sovereign is entitled to wear the scarlet lamba or use the scarlet umbrella. The Queen's lamba was ornamented heavily with gold-lace. Her head was not much decorated, but her hair was anointed with that hideous horror of the sick-room, castor-oil! the odour of which, however, was disguised, or rather mixed, with a leaf which smelt like nutmeg.

"I will submit to this no longer," said the Queen, with a stern frown. "Have I not said it? Is the will of Ranavalona to be thwarted?"

This remark was, in the conversation above mentioned, made to the Prime Minister, a stern old man, dressed in a scarlet coat with huge gold epaulettes, and profusely braided with gold-lace, blue pantaloons, also gold-laced, and a magnificent brazen-sheathed sword. He stood at the Queen's elbow with a perplexed expression of countenance, being the bearer of news about the effect of which he felt uncertain. But Rainiharo was a bold man as well as a bad one.

"Your will, madam, is sure to be thwarted," he replied, "as long as you suffer Prince Rakota to act as he pleases. Your son is a Christian. He prays with the Christians and encourages them in this new doctrine. We are lost if your Majesty does not stop the prince in his strange self-willed ways."

"But," repeated the Queen, "he is my son—my only, my beloved son! Let him do what he pleases. If he wishes to be a Christian, let him—he is my beloved son!"

"But, madam," urged Rainiharo, who hated Rakota, "if your son resists your will what becomes of the Government? I know that Rakota—"

"Cease to speak to me of Rakota," interrupted the Queen, impatiently. "He is my son, I tell you. I love him. Let him alone—he will not disobey me."

"Prince Ramonja, it is said, has also joined the Christians," continued the minister, with a slightly cynical expression.

"Is this true?" demanded Ranavalona, fiercely, while she seemed to grind her teeth in wrath.

"I have reason to believe it."

"Let inquiry be made, and if it proves to be true," said the Queen, sternly, "let Ramonja be deprived of all his military honours, reduce him to the ranks, and fine him heavily."

"But he is your own nephew, madam," returned the Minister, simply, yet with a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"It matters not. It is of our mercy that he does not die, as many others have died before him. Let my orders be obeyed if Ramonja is guilty. Let him be a warning to others in the palace, for it has come to my ears that some of our courtiers are hankering after this religion that seems to have turned my people mad. Indeed it is said that some related to yourself are among them."

She looked pointedly at Rainiharo as she spoke, and the prime minister winced, for he had lately discovered that his own son was among the number of the "praying people." Recovering himself in a moment, however, he merely said that he was not aware of any of his kindred having fallen away from the customs of their ancestors.

"I hope not," returned the Queen, darkly, "for degradation and slavery, if not death, await them if they do. Go. Let a proclamation be made to-day in the market-place. Let my people and the army know that I have resolved to extinguish Christianity. Tell those officers who have become Christians, or have taken any part in religious teaching, that they shall lose their honours. They have transgressed my laws and deserve death, but through the supplications of the people of Imerina their lives are spared. But their honours, I say, shall be thrown into the river and carried over the cataract of Ifarahantsana, for they are trying to change the customs of our ancestors. Of some, half the honours shall be thrown into the river. Of others, one-third of their honours shall be thrown in, and some shall lose all their honours; the precise number shall be in proportion to their offences. Moreover," continued the angry woman, as she worked herself into a state of great wrath, "there must be no more praying; no more psalm-singing among my people; no more—"

She stopped suddenly and listened, while the veins in her neck and forehead seemed to swell almost to bursting, for at that moment the clear notes of a sweet female voice came from some distant part of the palace and broke softly on her ear. There was no mistaking the nature of the music, for the Queen had long been familiar with the music of the psalms, in which the "praying people" were wont to sing praise to the name of Jesus.

"Who sings?" she asked, with a fierce look at Rainiharo.

The prime minister again gave vent to a very slight touch of sarcasm as he replied, "I think it is Rafaravavy."

This time the queen noted the tone, and sharply ordered her minister to be gone and do her bidding.

Now, Rafaravavy was a lady of the palace, as we have said, and a great favourite with her royal mistress, but the queen's affection for the girl had been severely tested since the latter showed symptoms of a leaning towards the Christian religion. It is probable that Ranavalona would have cared little as to what her favourite thought about Christianity if she had only kept quiet, but Rafaravavy was one of those earnest straightforward souls who are prone to act in accordance with their conscientious beliefs without regard to consequences. She did not indeed go about endeavouring to proselytise the household, for she was naturally timid, soft-hearted, and meek, but she made no attempt to conceal her opinions and her sympathy with the persecuted Christians. She had even gone the length of interceding for them once or twice when she found her mistress in an amiable mood, but the explosion of wrath which resulted warned her not to presume again in that way.

For some time Ranavalona sat brooding over the mystery of that religion, which, notwithstanding all her power and cruelty, she had, after so many years of tyranny, been unable to suppress. Then she sent for Rafaravavy.

The girl, who in a few minutes entered her presence, was possessed of no ordinary beauty. Her delicate features and oval face were much lighter in complexion than those of the other ladies of the court, resembling rather those of a Spanish brunette than a Hova beauty. Her eyes were large, soft, and lustrous; her nose was straight and thin, and her mouth small, with an expression of habitual gravity which made her smile, when it came, all the more attractive. Little wonder that poor Ravonino had lost his heart to her, for, besides beauty of countenance, the girl was endowed with a sylph-like form, a sprightly disposition, and the sweet grace of humility.

"You have disobeyed me, Rafaravavy," said the Queen as she entered.

"Forgive me!" answered the girl in a low musical voice. "I did not think my song of praise would reach your ear. It was meant only for my God and Saviour."

"Is your God then deaf, that you must sing so loud?" asked the Queen, sharply.

"He is not deaf, blessed be His name!" exclaimed the maiden, with enthusiasm, "neither is His arm shortened that it cannot save. Oh! if you—"

"Stop!" cried the angry Queen, "you have presumed to talk to me thus too often. You deserve to die for singing psalms. Have you given up praying since I forbade it?"

There was that in the voice of Ranavalona which alarmed the girl, and caused her to tremble as she replied, with some hesitation, that she still prayed.

Instead of giving way to another burst of passion the Queen adopted a bantering tone, and said—

"Come, Rafaravavy, tell me what you pray for."

"I pray for the pardon of my sins."

"Is that all? Surely you pray for something more than that. Something nice that you want very much."

"Yes," continued the girl, becoming somewhat pale, yet praying silently for courage even while she spoke. "Yes, I pray for the pardon of—of your sins, and—"

"Go on! Why do you stop?"

"And that your eyes may be opened that you may 'see the King in His beauty,' and be drawn to Him by the cords of love, so that you may cease to persecute the Christians and learn to join with them in praising the name of Jesus who redeemed us from destruction, and is ready and willing to save us from our sins."

While Rafaravavy was speaking Ranavalona put her hand over her eyes. When the former ceased, she did not remove the hand, but said, in a tone which the poor girl could not quite understand—

"Go! Enough. Leave me!"

As Rafaravavy left the balcony, a prepossessing youth of delicate form and gentle mien emerged upon it by another door.

"Mother," he said, earnestly, "do, do give me leave to recall your proclamation. I have just heard of it from Rainiharo. Believe me, many of the nobles are not so good—I mean so guilty!—as you think. And the poor Christians—why should they not pray and sing? It is all that you have left to them, for they no longer dare to worship together in the churches."

"No, Rakota, I will not recall it. Your constant pleading worries me. It is enough to say that the people shall be examined—by the tangena ordeal if necessary—and they shall be punished according to their deserts. Is that all that you come here for, my son?"

It was evident from her tone that Ranavalona relented a little, though her words were firmly spoken.

"I came also to tell you," said the prince, "that the Europeans whom your spies brought news of some time ago have arrived. They are even now in the market-place. By my orders the guards have let them pass without question."

"Always interfering, Rakota!" said the Queen, angrily. "Why were they not seized and guarded till I should find time to speak with them?"

"Because, mother, that would scarcely be a civil way of receiving strangers."

"Strangers! Spies you should have said. Have you forgotten the ungrateful Frenchmen who so lately tried to overturn my government?"

"But these are not Frenchmen. They are English," said the prince, "and I will answer for them being good and true men."

"No doubt English are better than French—at least I hate them less; but they are all pale-faced liars and Christians, and none of them shall remain in my land. But how can you tell, boy, that they are good and true men? Have you had speech with them?"

"Not I," returned the prince. "I have only seen them as they entered the town, but that was enough. One glance satisfied me of their being true men. When the sun rises it needs not much wisdom to know that there is heat and light. An honest face is like the sun. You cannot fail to know it."

"Go, foolish boy. You are too confident. I will not tolerate Europeans. These men shall be arrested. Hence, and send hither an officer."

Finding that the Queen was not in a temper to be trifled with, Rakota wisely made no reply, but bowed and went his way. In delivering the message to the officer, however, he whispered such words to him as secured a little delay in the execution of the royal commands.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE PRIME MINISTER LAYS DEEP PLANS—SO DOES HIS NEPHEW—THE GREAT MARKET-PLACE—A FRIEND IN DEADLY PERIL, AND OUR THREE HEROES COME TO GRIEF.

Returning to his own quarters in the palace, and chafing to find that some one had informed the Queen about his son's defection, Rainiharo encountered a favourite nephew, named Soa, who had also, unknown to his uncle, given up idolatry, and, like Prince Ramonja, been led to embrace the Gospel through the instrumentality of Prince Rakota.

"Well met, Soa," said the premier, "I have a proclamation to make which will bring sorrow to the hearts of some of these hated Christians."

He paused a moment, as if in thought, and Soa, a fine-looking young man of pleasant countenance and agile frame, seemed about to reply, but checked himself.

"Now, my boy," resumed the old man, "I have a piece of work for you to do. You have heard of the arrival of the Englishmen?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Well, I have reason to believe that they have been led hither by that son of a thunderbolt, Ravoninohitriniony, and that he is even now in hiding in the neighbourhood. At the gate you will find one of our spies, who will conduct you to the cavern in which he lies concealed. Of course I could have him seized at once if I chose, but I have a deeper game to play, and want to make Ravoninohitriniony an unwitting instrument. It seems that more of the people in the palace are Christians than I knew of. It has come to my ears that some of these intend going stealthily to the cave to meet Ravoninohitriniony, for they are fond of this son of a wild-boar, and probably hope to have news by him of their banished kindred."

Lest it should be supposed that we are putting flippant expressions into the mouth of Rainiharo, we may explain that the Malagasy define an ungrateful man as the "son of a thunderbolt," and sometimes as the "offspring of a wild-boar," because—so they say—the young of the wild-boar, when running by the side of its dam, continually gets in advance and turns round to bite her. The ingratitude of which our friend Ravonino was supposed to be guilty, consisted in his having forsaken the idols of the country and renounced the favour of the Queen by becoming a Christian, preferring, like Moses, to suffer affliction with the banished people of God.

"No doubt," continued the premier, "they will be praying and psalm-singing. Now, knowing your detestation of these Christians, I have resolved to send you to their meeting as a Christian. You are wise enough to know how to act when among them. Take note of the men and women you see there, whether high or low; make out a list of them, and bring it to me. Death and chains shall be their portion, for I am fully more determined than the Queen is to stamp out this religion. Go, and do as I bid ye as quickly as you can."

For a few seconds the youth stood perplexed and irresolute. Then he said, suddenly, "Yes, uncle, I will go, according to your bidding, as a Christian!" and hastily left the room.

Meanwhile Mark Breezy and his companions, led by Laihova, followed the throng of country-folk to the market-place. They had passed the guard at the gate by means of that potent talisman, silver, before which few gates are permanently closed. If the party had sought to pass with any pomp or circumstance, or if they had carried merchandise along with them, they could not have passed so easily; but Laihova had only to bestow some bits of silver on the guard and the way was at once clear. They might have passed without it, however, had they known of Rakota's interference in their favour.

We speak of "bits" of silver advisedly, for the Malagasy take the simplest and most literal way of making small change; they clip their dollars into little pieces of various sizes, and therewith transact the business that in other lands is settled with pence. As these clippings are not very accurate, however, they weigh the pieces, and for this purpose every one carries about with him a tiny pair of scales in his waist-cloth. These dollars were all foreign coins, for the Malagasy at that time had, (and we believe still have), no native coinage. All silver that comes to their net is considered good fish. The standard coin is the Spanish dollar, but one will find every variety of European and American money in circulation among them. The method of clipping and weighing the small change might be thought somewhat cumbrous in European markets, for the dollar is cut up into eight sikajy, (each about sixpence); the sikajy into nine eranambatra, and each eranambatra into ten vary-venty, each of which last is about the weight of a plump grain of rice. Four weights, marked with a government stamp, are used in weighing the money. These weights are equal, respectively, to about a half-a-dollar, a quarter-dollar, sixpence, and fourpence. Other amounts are obtained by varying these in the opposite scales and adding grains of rice. But all this forms no difficulty in Madagascar. Like most Easterns the natives there dearly love to haggle and prolong a bargain—as our travellers found to their amusement that day; for not only were the principals vociferous in their disputatious, but the bystanders entered into the spirit of the thing and volunteered their opinions!

Profound was the interest of the white men in this market, and deep was the absorption of Ebony, for that amiable negro had a faculty of totally forgetting himself and absolutely projecting himself into the shoes of other people, thus identifying himself with their interests—a faculty which cost him many anxious, indignant, pathetic, and hilarious moments.

"Das a most 'straor'nary sight," he said, looking round with glistening eyes and expanded lips at the crowds of people who pressed along the road leading to Zoma, the great market-place.

"By the way they stare at you, Ebony," said Hockins, "they evidently think you something 'straor'nary!"

"Not at all, 'Ockins. You's wrong, as usual," retorted the negro. "Dey quite used to black mans, but I tink dis de fust time dat some ob dem hab saw a man wid a face like putty."

There was indeed some ground for the negro's remark, for the people crowded round our heroes and gazed at them with undisguised interest.

The market-place was well suited to give some idea of the various types of countenance among the different tribes from distant parts of the island, also for making acquaintance with the products of the country and the manufactures of the people. It was a sort of museum and centre of commerce combined, with all the varied incidents, comical, semi-tragic, and otherwise, for which markets in general are more or less famed.

Here were to be seen great heaps of earthenware of red clay—pans for cooking rice, water-jars, bottles, and dishes of all sorts, as well as English crockery, especially that with the old willow-pattern design! There were great varieties of straw hats, beautifully made of rice and other straw. Elsewhere might be seen iron-work of native manufacture, some of it displaying considerable taste and skilful workmanship. There were also beds, with well-turned posts, made of a wood like mahogany, and the mattresses for these were stuffed with down from a certain flower, which made soft and comfortable couches. Lambas of many kinds were also to be seen, from those of coarse rofia cloth to those of finer and more ornamental material—though the finest silk lambas and the more expensive European goods were not often exposed for sale there, but were to be had at the houses of the traders and manufacturers. One part of the market was devoted to wood for the rafters and framework of houses, another to the sale of vegetables and fruits—among which were sweet potatoes, manioc, beans, maize, peaches, bananas, mangoes, pine-apples, oranges, lemons, pumpkins, melons, grapes, Cape gooseberries, mulberries, guavas, pomegranates, and many others, besides bread-fruit and rice—which last is the staple food of the people.

"Oh! I say, 'Ockins," whispered Ebony at this point, "my mout's a-waterin'."

"Well, mine's somethin' in the same way," returned the seaman, "but we haven't a rap to buy with."

Whether Laihova overheard the whisper or not we cannot tell, but he stopped at that moment, purchased a large quantity of the tempting fruit, and handed it, without a word, to his friends, who received it with becoming gratitude.

"You's a trump, Hovey," said the negro, as he put a whole peach into his capacious mouth.

"Ditto," said Hockins, performing the same feat with a banana.

"Do I hear music?" said Mark Breezy.

"An' don't I smell rum?" remarked Hockins.

"An' doesn't I hear cackling?" inquired Ebony.

By way of answer to all three, Laihova turned round the corner of a stall, when the party reached a spot which was devoted to the sale of native rum, or "toaka"—a coarse fiery spirit made from sugar-cane, and sold at a very low price. Here a native musician was discovered twanging a native guitar, either as an accompaniment to the cackling of hundreds of fowls and the gobbling of innumerable turkeys, or as a desperate effort to beat these creatures at their own game of noise.

On inquiry Mark found that fowls were sold at from fourpence to eightpence a-piece; geese and turkeys from a shilling to eighteenpence. Also that beef and vegetables were proportionally cheap.

"It seems to me," remarked Hockins, as they moved slowly along, enjoying the fruit and the scene, "that this here island is a sort of paradise."

Before many minutes were over the seaman had reason to change his views considerably on this point, for their guide led them to a spot where the slave-market was held. The sights they witnessed there were such as filled the hearts of the white men with deep sorrow and indignation, while it drew tears from the eyes of the sympathetic negro. For the men and women and children were no mere criminals who might in some sense be deserving of their fate—though such there were also amongst them,—but many of the men were guilty of political offences only, and not a few, both of men and women, were martyrs, who, because they had left the faith of their fathers and become followers of Jesus Christ, were sold into temporary—in some cases perpetual—slavery, with their wives and families.

At sight of these unfortunates Laihova was evidently much affected, though he made strenuous efforts to conceal his feelings.

"You are grieved, I see," said Mark, in a tone of profound sympathy which touched his guide's heart.

"Grieved! Yes—verily," said Laihova, whose broken English was much interlarded with Scriptural words and expressions, "for does I not see my friends there? But com. They must not know me. It is danger. Com."

He led them quickly away from the slave-market, and as they walked along he explained that some of the poor slaves whom they had just seen thus publicly exposed for sale were among the nobles of the land—not only in regard to human rank, but in right of that patent which man can neither give nor take away,—an upright regenerated soul. He further explained, as best he could, that slaves in his land were derived from three or four different sources—namely, captives taken in war; persons condemned to slavery for crime, for political offences, and for religious opinions; people who had been sold for debt, and the descendants of all of these.

They had gradually quitted the market while thus engaged in conversation, and were ascending one of the steeper parts of the city, when their attention was attracted by a shouting not far-off.

Presently they observed a number of men and boys running in and out amongst the houses and the low walls which surrounded them, as if in chase of something. Soon a man was seen to dart along the road they were following. As he drew near they observed that he stumbled as he ran, yet forced the pace and panted violently—like one running for his life. A few moments more and the crowd was close at his heels, pelting him with stones and yelling like wild beasts. The fugitive turned up a narrow lane between high walls, close to where our party stood. He was closely followed by the crowd.

At this point some of the pursuers stopped as if from exhaustion.

"What has he done?" said Laihova to one of these.

"He has been stealing in the market by cutting a lamba."

It is the practice to carry money tied up in a corner of the lamba, and thieves, by cutting off this corner, sometimes manage to secure the money.

A great cry arose just then, and some of the pursuers came running back.

"He is down," said one. "He is dead!" said another.

Now our friend Hockins was one of those men who have at all times an irresistible tendency to take the part of the weak against the strong, without much regard to the cause of battle! He instantly, without a word, ran off at full speed to the rescue. Ebony ran after him from sympathy. Mark Breezy followed from the natural desire to keep by his comrades, and back them up, while Laihova followed—no doubt from good-fellowship!

They soon came upon the poor man, who was completely naked, bruised and bleeding, and surrounded by a crowd of youths, who were deliberately stoning him as if he were a dangerous animal or a mad dog.

With a roar like a lion Hockins went at them. He tripped up some half-dozen big boys, flattened still more the flat noses of some of the men, stretching them flat on their backs, and then, standing astride the fallen man, flourished his enormous fists, and invited the entire population of Antananarivo to "come on!"

The population refused the invitation and retired.

Ebony was not slow to follow suit, with this variation, that instead of roaring he yelled, and instead of bestriding the fallen man, he gave sudden chase hither and thither, with powerful effect, rendering the rout complete.

Meanwhile Mark attended to the injured man, who seemed to be dead. Turning him over on his back he discovered, to his inexpressible amazement, that he was no other than their old friend Mamba—the crocodile—whom they had left with his mother and the others in the cave many days before.

"How is it possible," he exclaimed, while dressing his wounds, "that he can have arrived at the same time with us, for we started before him and have travelled fast?"

Laihova explained that Mamba was one of the fleetest men in the island, and that he could easily have passed them though starting later than they did. But why he had come, and why he had passed instead of overtaking and travelling with them, he could not even guess.

As most of poor Mamba's wounds were bruises, and the few cuts were not deep, his four friends raised him and carried him quickly into a neighbouring house, the door of which was immediately shut. Laihova explained that it was the house of a personal friend of his own, who was also a Christian, but secretly, for fear of the Queen.

Here Mamba was sufficiently brought round by Mark's ministrations to be able to sit up and answer questions, but at first he seemed disinclined to speak, and then gave evasive replies.

"Why this secrecy, my friend?" asked Laihova, in the native language.

"If I could answer," said Mamba, "there would be no secrecy."

"True, and I would not pry into your secrets," returned Laihova, "but we would help you if we can."

"You cannot help me," returned Mamba, in a somewhat sad tone. "I have business in hand which requires haste. I have tried to keep clear of you to prevent delay, and to avoid mixing myself up in your dangers, for you are in danger here. I would not have come near the town at all, but I required to make a purchase in the market, and hoped to do so without being recognised. Unfortunately an old enemy saw me. He fell on the device of cutting off the corner of his own lamba, and then, raising the cry of thief, pretended that I had done it. I ran. You know my speed of foot. I trusted to that instead of trusting to my God. They surrounded me. You know the end."

While Mamba was yet speaking a loud knocking was heard at the door, and a stern voice demanded admittance.

On hearing it Mamba leaped from the couch on which he had been laid as if nothing were the matter with him. He glanced hastily round. The owner of the house seemed to divine his wishes, for he pointed to a small window which opened into what appeared to be a court at the back of the dwelling. The window was merely a square opening, which appeared scarcely wide enough to let a man's shoulders pass, but Mamba did not hesitate. To the amazement of Mark and his friends he took what is familiarly known as a "header" through the window—a la harlequin—and disappeared. To the still greater amazement of Mark and his friends, Laihova instantly followed suit, without a word of explanation! Indeed there was no time for that. A moment after the owner of the dwelling opened the door with a very submissive look and admitted a band of armed men.

The leader of the band, from his dress and bearing, was evidently a man of position. He carried in his hand a large spear highly ornamented with silver. This weapon—as Mark afterwards learned—was an official spear with the Queen's name engraven on it. The bearer of it, as well as the spear itself, was named "Tsitialainga," which means "Hater of Lies."

Turning to the owner of the house, the Hater of Lies sternly asked some questions of him; but as he spoke in the native tongue he was unintelligible to our travellers, whose spirits were not cheered by the scowling looks of the armed men. Whatever the question was, the answer appeared to be unsatisfactory, for the Hater of Lies immediately turned to his men, and pointing with the silver spear to the three strangers, gave them a command.

Instantly they sprang upon Mark and his companions, and seized them. Both Hockins and Ebony were for a moment paralysed by surprise; then, their impulsive souls being stirred by a sudden gush of indignation, they gathered themselves up for a mighty burst which would certainly have resulted in disaster of some sort if Mark had not recovered presence of mind in time.

"Submit!—submit!" he shouted in a loud voice of authority. Then, in a sharp but lower tone, "It is our only chance! Don't resist!"

With feelings of something like despair the two men obeyed. A few minutes more and they were bound, led through the streets surrounded by a guard, which alone protected them from death at the hands of the angry populace. Then they were cast into a dark prison, loaded with chains, and left to their reflections.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE SPIES AND THE SECRET MEETING—THE PRIME MINISTER FOILED BY THE PRINCE.

The sun was setting, the air was balmy, the face of nature was beautiful, the insects and birds were buzzing, humming, and chirping happily, as if there were no such things as care and sorrow in the wide world, when Soa, the prime minister's nephew, with his guide, approached the forest in which was the cavern where the persecuted Christians had arranged to hold their secret meeting.

"I am to go as a Christian!" thought Soa, as he walked on swiftly and in silence, "as a Christian hypocrite and spy!"

The young man's countenance relaxed into something like a smile as he thought thus; then it became solemnised as he offered the silent prayer, "Lord, enable me to do the work honestly and well."

The way was long, but the youth's limbs were strong and agile, so that night had not long overspread the land when he reached the end of his journey. The night was unusually dark—well adapted for deeds of secrecy and crime. If it had been lighter the two spies would have seen a number of men and women, and even children, hurrying along stealthily in the same direction with themselves. They observed only two or three of these, however, who chanced to fall in their way. They loomed up suddenly like spectres out of the surrounding darkness and as quickly melted into it again. Soa paid no attention to these apparitions, neither did he utter a word to his companion during the journey.

Most of the way he kept a pace or two in advance of his guide, but when they reached the more intricate and broken grounds of the forest, he fell behind and suffered the other to lead.

At last the path wound so much among broken rocks and over steep knolls that their progress became very slow—all the more so that the overshadowing trees rendered the darkness profound. Sometimes they had to clamber up steep places on hands and knees.

Suddenly they were arrested by what seemed to them a faint cry or wail. Listening intently, they perceived that the sounds were musical.

"The Christians are singing," said the spy in a tone which, low though it was, betrayed a touch of contempt. "They hold their meeting in a cave on the other side of this mound."

"Remain here, then, till I return to you," said Soa. "They know you to be a spy. They will not suppose that I have come in such a capacity."

The man gave vent to a slight laugh at the supposed joke and sat down, while the courtier advanced alone.

On the other side of the mound the sounds which had reached the listeners' ears as a wail, now swelled upon the young man as a well-known hymn, in which he had many times joined. A feeling of joy, almost amounting to triumph, filled his heart as he stood there listening. While he listened he observed several indistinct forms glide past him and enter the cave. He crept after them.

A strange sight met his eyes. The cave was so large and high that the single torch which burned in it merely lighted up a portion of the wall against which it was fixed. Even in the immediate neighbourhood of the torch things were more or less indistinct, while all else was shrouded in darkness profound. Here more than a hundred dusky figures were assembled—those furthest from the light melting, as it were, into the darkness, and leaving the imagination to people illimitable space with similar beings.

Soa slipped in, and sat down on a jutting rock near the entrance just as the hymn was closing. Few people observed him. Immediately after, an old man who sat nearest the light rose to pray. Beside him stood our friend Ravonino. On the other side sat a young man with a remarkably intelligent countenance.

With intense earnestness and great simplicity the old man prayed, in the name of Jesus, that the Holy Spirit might bless their meeting and deliver them from the power of their enemies. He also prayed with much emphasis that their enemies might be turned into Christian friends—at which petition a loud "Amen" arose from the worshippers.

"Now Totosy will speak," said the old man, after a brief pause, turning to the young man with the intelligent countenance. "Let the Word be brought forth."

"Stop!" cried a man, rising in the midst of the crowd, "it may not be safe to bring out the Word just now."

"Why not, my son?" asked the old man. "Are not all here to-night our friends?"

"I think not," returned the man. "As I came along I saw one of the Queen's spies, who is well-known to me. He was walking with the nephew of our deadly foe Rainiharo, and Soa himself sits there!"

He turned as he spoke, and pointed straight at Soa, who rose at once and advanced to the front.

"My friends," he said, in a gentle voice, "the last speaker is right. I am here, and I was led here by one of the Queen's spies. But the spy is not here. He awaits me outside. Let two of your young men guard the entrance of the cave so that our conference may not be overheard."

Two stalwart youths rose at once and hurried to the outside of this primitive meeting-house, where they mounted guard.

"I have been sent," continued Soa, "by my uncle, with orders to enter your meeting 'as a Christian,' take note of your names, and report them to him!"

There was a tendency on the part of some to shrink into the background on hearing this.

"Now," continued Soa, "I have come to obey only part of his orders. I have come, as a Christian, to warn you of the dangers that surround you. The Queen is exceeding mad against you. It will be your wisest course to refrain from meeting together just now, and rest content with worshipping in your own homes. But let not this distress you, my friends. The God whom we love is able to turn darkness into light and to make crooked things straight. Neither let it break up our meeting just now. We are safe at present. Let us get out the Word and enjoy the worship of our Saviour while we may."

There were murmurs of assent and satisfaction at the close of this brief address, and one of the young men, with grave—almost mysterious—looks, took up a small spade and went towards that part of the wall where Ravonino sat. The latter rose to let the young men get at a particular spot, which was marked on the wall with a small—almost imperceptible— red square. Here, after turning up a few spadefuls of earth, he struck upon a stone. Lifting it, he disclosed a hole about a foot square. The old man who presided at the meeting thrust his hands into this hole and gently lifted out a thick volume, which he laid reverently upon a flat rock that formed a sort of natural table in front of him.

This was "the Word" to which reference had been made—an old, much-soiled and worn Malagasy Bible, which had been buried there, so that, whatever might become of its Christian owners, it might escape being found and condemned to the flames, as so many of its fellows had been.

It was a curious Bible this, in more respects than one. In Madagascar the Bible was printed first in sections by the natives, under the superintendence of the missionaries; these sections got scattered, for teaching purposes, and various editions of different sizes were printed at different times. The original owner—if we may not call him fabricator—of the Bible, now referred to as having been dug up in the cave, must, in his desire to possess the Word of God complete, have been at considerable pains to secure every fragment and leaf that came in his way, and then had them all bound together. A clasp of leather and a European hook-and-eye fastened the edges. The different portions, of course, did not fit exactly, and some of the verses necessarily overlapped. Nevertheless, a nearly complete and substantial Bible was the result of his labours. See Note 1.

Taking up the treasured book with great care, the young man before mentioned by the name of Totosy opened it and selected a text. "Fear not, little flock, it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

From this he preached an admirable sermon, full of hope and consolation to men and women situated as his companions were at that time, and holding up Jesus not only as the deliverer of the world from sin but from fear of physical death. Strengthening of this sort, truly, was much-needed, for during the previous persecutions of 1837 and 1849 Queen Ranavalona had given terrible evidence of her fierce and relentless nature, so that Christians were now well aware of what they had to expect if another cruel fit came upon her.

The sermon finished, another hymn was sung, followed by a prayer, after which, before finally breaking up and dispersing, the worshippers collected in various groups; and exclamations of surprise, joy, and fervent thanksgiving were heard, now and again, when friends who had parted as enemies on account of religious differences unexpectedly met as brothers in the Lord.

It has ever been a result of persecution that the persecuted cause has made progress—naturally so, for trial and suffering winnow out the chaff and leave the good seed to flourish with increased vigour. Few false professors attended those midnight meetings, which were so full of joy and danger, and none of these ever got the length of Ranavalona's fiery stakes or the fearful "rock of hurling."

For fully a quarter of a century, (from 1836 to 1861), did the persecution of the native Christians last in Madagascar. During most of that dark period Queen Ranavalona the First endeavoured, by cruel prohibitive laws, torture, and death, to stamp out the love of Christ from her dominions. Through most of that period she tried to prevent her people from meeting for worship, praying to God in the name of Christ, or reading the Scriptures or any other Christian book, and those who disobeyed her did so at the risk of losing property, liberty, or life. Nevertheless, in spite of this, worship was kept up in secret—in secluded villages, in recesses of the forest, in caves, even in rice-holes; the Word was read, faithful natives preached, and Baptism and the Lord's Supper were continuously observed. Small portions of Scripture—even leaves—were carefully treasured and passed from hand to hand until "these calamities" were past; and now, at the present time, the Church in Madagascar is ten times stronger than ever it was before!

Of course active persecution was not maintained throughout the whole period of twenty-five years. The volcano smouldered at times. For brief periods it almost seemed as if about to become extinct, but at intervals it burst forth with renewed violence. At the time of which we write, (1857), there were mutterings of the volcano, and portents in the air which filled the persecuted ones, and those who loved them, with grave anxiety.

In a dark corner of the cavern Soa and Ravonino stood apart, after the service was over, and conversed in subdued tones.

"Do you think the lives of my comrades are in danger?" asked the latter, anxiously.

"It is difficult to answer that," replied Soa. "The Queen fears to offend the English by putting European subjects to death; but she is in a savage mood just now, and your friends have intermeddled with matters that they would have been wise to let alone. Banishment is more likely to be their fate, but that will be almost equal to death."

"How so?" asked Ravonino.

"Because Ranavalona will probably treat them as she treated the Europeans who lately tried to overthrow her government. She sent them down to the coast with orders to their conductors to keep them so long on the way—especially on the unhealthy fever-stricken parts of the route—that sickness might have time to kill them."