The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar

“We caught this man entering our village,” said one of the warriors, fiercely, to the guide; “we would have taken him to our chief, but he says that you are his friend—yet I think he lies.”

“He speaks the truth,” returned Ravonino, calmly. “He is my friend. Doubtless he has good reasons for coming here. Leave him with us, we will guard him till morning.”

The warriors at once released their prisoner and retired, while the man stepping forward into clearer light revealed the handsome countenance of Laihova.

“Sit down, my brother,” said Ravonino to the youth, in tones of unusual tenderness, “and let me know what brings you here so unexpectedly.”

“I come to offer my service,” replied the youth, with a modest air. “You have told me that you go to Antananarivo to rescue Rafaravavy. Your face is known to every one in the town. If you enter it, your death will be certain.”

“But I do not intend to enter it,” said Ravonino; “these my white friends will aid me.”

“The white men may be wise and brave, but they know not how to aid you, I am not so well-known in the town. I will venture into it and will show them where to go and what to do.”

The guide shook his head and was silent for some moments. He seemed uncertain how to act.

“What says Laihova?” asked Mark Breezy at this point, for the conversation having been conducted in the native tongue they as yet understood nothing.

The guide briefly explained, and then turned to the young man.

“But how can you think of leaving your friends in the cave, Laihova? They may require your strong arm; and my sister is—”

“It was my friends who advised me to leave them,” said the youth, quickly, “and Ra-Ruth bade me go. Besides, have we not entered into the Covenant of Blood?”

“Well, you may come with us. After all, Ra-Ruth is right.”

“What does he mean by the Covenant of Blood?” asked Mark when the guide explained what had just been said.

“It means that he and I are united by one of the closest ties that bind the men of this island. No doubt you will think it a strange alliance, nevertheless it is a true and a strong bond of brotherhood. It is meant to unite two people in sacred friendship, so that ever afterwards they feel bound to help and defend each other. When two persons agree to form this bond, a meeting is arranged for the performance of the ceremony and taking the vow. Some gunpowder and a ball are brought, with a little ginger, a spear, and two particular kinds of grass. A fowl is also used. Its head is nearly cut off, and it is left to bleed during the ceremony. Then a long vow of mutual friendship, assistance, and defence is pronounced. After this each man drinks a few drops of the other’s blood. To obtain it they make a small cut in the skin of the centre of the bosom, which they call ‘the mouth of the heart.’”

“And did you go through this ceremony with Laihova?” asked Mark.

“I did, many years ago, when we were little more than boys. He saved my life by jumping into a deep pool in a lake and rescuing me from the crocodiles. I had fallen in off the steep bank. I could not swim, and he could. After that we made the alliance of brotherhood. Laihova was not a Christian at that time. Since then God has made use of me to rescue him from a more awful death than that which threatened me. Laihova is grateful, and, knowing that I run much risk in going near the capital, has come, as you see, to help me.”

“Not a bad style of brotherhood that,” said Hockins, with a tremendous yawn. “Eh, Ebony? What d’ee think of you an’ me goin’ in for the same sort o’ thing?”

“P’r’aps,” answered Ebony, with a responsive yawn which threw that of Hockins quite into the shade, “p’r’aps black blood mightn’t agree wid your stummick. But I say, Massa Breezy, don’ you tink it a’most time we was goin’ to sleep?”

As the night was far spent—or, rather, the morning far advanced—by that time, the whole party willingly assented. Laihova was supplied with a separate mat, the embers of the wood-fire were drawn together, and they all lay down once more to make the most of what remained of the period of repose. But circumstances were against them.

True, being tired and healthy men, they dropped off at once with the facility of infants, and during a quarter of an hour or so, while the fire continued to emit an occasional flicker, all went well; but when the last vestige of flame died away, the rats again came out with bead-like eyes and cautious tread. Gradually they became bolder. Impunity never fails to encourage presumption. In short they soon began to hold a sort of carnival. The pots and pans became, as it were, musical, to the evident distress of the slumbering seaman—especially when the large grey rat fairly overturned a small rice-jar, which in its fall removed several props from other utensils and caused a serious clatter. Still the wearied men slept through it all, until the enemy took to scampering over their bodies. Then the enraged Ebony, being partially awakened, made a fierce grasp at one of the foe, and caught Hockins by the ear. Of course the result was a howl, and a sleepy request from Mark, to “Stop that noise!”

But even that incident failed to arouse them thoroughly, though it filled the rats with temporary horror, and caused them to flee.

The last word reminds us that there were others there that night, besides rats, to disturb the sleepers’ dreams—but we merely make a suggestive hint at that!

Soon the rats returned in greater force and more demonstrative hilarity than ever. They evidently went in for a game of hide-and-seek round and over the slumberers, causing the sleepy growls of John Hockins to resemble the fitful mutterings of distant thunder.

Thus they went on until the grey dawn of morning appeared. Then an extremely large cock, in the south-east corner of the hut, feeling that it had enjoyed a sufficiently good night’s rest, flapped its ungainly wings, stretched out its neck, and gave vent to a clarion-crow which—

“Brute!” exclaimed Hockins, not even giving us time to finish the sentence!

He said no other word, but seizing a piece of wood, sent it forth with such true and effective aim, that he cleared not only the cock, but all his wives off their perch, and sent them in cackling consternation out of the hut by the nearest hole in the wall.

After that the much-tried party slumbered in peace until the sun was high.

Chapter Nine.

A Jovial Chief, and New Experiences of Various Kinds

The friendly hospitality of the chief of this village was found to be likely to cause delay, for he would not hear of his visitors departing until they had been feasted and entertained with games and hunting.

As they were completely in his power there was nothing for it but to submit with the best grace possible, although Ravonino was naturally anxious to push on.

“You see it won’t do to look as if we were indifferent to his hospitality,” said the guide. “He would be greatly offended, for you must know that the Malagasy pride themselves on their hospitality. Come, we will go and have a look at the neighbouring woods while they are preparing breakfast for us, and I will tell you a story about the late King Radama.”

“Was that the good king you told us about who did so much for the missionaries, though he wasn’t a Christian himself?” asked Hockins, as they all passed through the enclosure of the village and entered the woods.

“Yes, the same,” replied the guide, “though whether he was a Christian or not I cannot tell. I judge no man. He made no profession of Christianity, but he was kind to the missionaries—very different from Ranavalona.”

“Das de oosurper, what you call ’er?” said Ebony.

“Just so,” returned the guide. “Well, as I was saying, our people are very hospitable. Everywhere, almost, throughout the country, when a traveller enters a village, a present is usually brought to him of rice, poultry, or fruit, or whatever they have on hand. You’ll find out that for yourselves as you go along—”

“A bery proper state ob tings,” remarked Ebony.

“And whatever house you come to,” continued Ravonino, “the owner will invite you politely to enter, and make you welcome. Of course there are greedy and surly people here and there, but these are an exception to the rule. Well, on one occasion King Radama heard of some people of that sort. You must know that our chiefs have always required that they should be entertained on the best the people could provide. It is an old custom. Well, Radama made a law that all the provisions and other kinds of property should belong to the people, but all the houses in the country should belong to the sovereign; and he ordered the inhabitants to furnish lodgings to his servants and soldiers wherever they went. In order to make sure that his orders were obeyed the King soon after went in disguise to a village some distance off, and towards evening entered a peasant’s house and asked to be taken in for the night.

“The heads of the family did not refuse, but rendered their hospitality in such a way as showed that he was not welcome. Next day he went to another house. There he was kindly welcomed, civilly treated, and the best they had in the house was set before him. In the morning when taking leave he made himself known, no less to the surprise than consternation of the family, and he left, assuring them that their hospitality should not be forgotten. The King kept his word, for he afterwards sent his officers to the village with a stern reproof to his first entertainer and a handsome present to the other.”

Just as the guide finished his anecdote a resplendent butterfly of enormous size rose from the bushes, and Mark, to whom it was quite a new specimen, bounded after it, but failed to effect a capture.

“Neber mind, massa,” said the sympathetic Ebony, “you’ll hab better luck nex’ time—p’r’aps!”

“Besides,” added the guide, “there are plenty more where that came from, for we have got into a good region for insects.”

“Seems to me,” said Hockins, “it’s a good region for everything. Look at that now,”—he pointed to an object in front of him. “I would say that was a spider if it warn’t as big as a bird, and hadn’t set up a fishin’-net for a web!”

Although not strictly correct, the seaman’s description had a foundation in truth, for some of the spiders of Madagascar are enormous, and their webs so thick that it requires a considerable effort to break them. Moreover they are said to be poisonous, and the bite of some even deadly.

The contemplation of those creatures, however, had to be cut short at that time, as they did not dare to risk keeping Voalavo waiting breakfast for them.

“We are going to stick pigs and hunt wild cattle,” said the jovial chief, with his mouth full of chicken and rice, when they arrived. “We will show the white men some fun.”

On this being translated Ebony hoped that the black man was included in the white, and Mark asked if the hunting-ground was far-off.

“A long way,” said the chief, “we shan’t reach it till night. But that’s no matter, for night is our time to hunt.”

He said this with a twinkle in his eye, for he saw well enough that his guests were impatient to be gone.