The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar

“Oh yes,” returned Mamba, “I have felt them.”

This was true; for it happened that when he was a little boy, his mother had taken him down to the side of a river where she had some washing to do, and while she was not looking the urchin waded in, and a crocodile made a snap at him. Fortunately it failed to catch him, but its sharp teeth grazed his thigh, and left a mark which he never afterwards lost.

“Where did that happen?” asked the boatman, when the other had briefly stated the fact—for the passage was too short to permit of a story being told.

“In the Betsilio country.”

“That’s a long way off.”

“Yes, a long way. I left my old mother there. I’m going to Tamatave to buy her a present. Now, my friend,” said Mamba, in a bantering tone, as the boat ran into the opposite bank, “take care never to upset your boat, because crocodile teeth are wonderfully sharp!”

Mamba had the satisfaction of hearing the two officers chuckle at his little joke, and the boatman growl indignantly, as he leaped ashore and sedately strode away with a sigh of relief and thankfulness for having made what he deemed a narrow escape.

The road to Tamatave was by no means lonely, for, being the highway from the seaport to the capital, there was constant traffic both of travellers and of merchandise. There were also great droves of cattle making their way to the coast—for a large part of the wealth of the chiefs and nobles of the land consists of cattle, which are exported to the islands of Bourbon and Mauritius, and disposed of to the shipping that come there for supplies.

At last Mamba reached Tamatave, footsore, worn, and weary, and went straight to the house of friend—a native of wealth and importance in the town, and one whom he knew to be a Christian. From him he learned, to his great joy, that Mr Ellis had not yet left the place, and that he hoped to be permitted still to remain there for some time.

It was dark when Mamba arrived, and rather late; but he was too anxious to transact his “business” to wait till morning. Having ascertained where the missionary lived, he went there direct, and was ushered into his sitting-room.

“You wish to converse with me,” said Mr Ellis, in a kind voice, and in the native tongue, as he placed a chair for his visitor—who, however, preferred to stand.

“Yes, I come from very far away—from the Betsilio country. My mother dwells there, and she is a praying one—a follower of Jesus. She loves the Word of God. I heard that you had brought the Bible to us from your own land—printed in our language, and so I have come to ask you for a Bible.”

“Have you come all that long journey to procure the Word of God?” asked the missionary, much interested.

“Yes—that is my business,” replied Mamba.

Although Mr Ellis liked the look of his visitor, and was strongly disposed to believe him, he had too much knowledge of the native character to place immediate confidence in him. Besides, the man being a stranger to him, and possibly one of the government spies, he feared to comply at once with his request, lest he should hasten his own banishment from the island. He replied, therefore, with caution.

“I cannot give you what you want to-night,” he said, “but you may call on me again to-morrow, and I will speak with you.”

This answer did not at all satisfy the eager heart of the poor fellow who had travelled so far and risked so much. His countenance showed the state of his feelings so strongly that the sympathetic missionary laid his hand kindly on his shoulder, bade him cheer up, and asked for his name as well as the name of some one in Tamatave who knew him.

“Now then, Mamba,” he said, as they were about to part, “don’t be cast down. Come here to see me to-morrow. Come early.”

Comforted a little—more by the missionary’s look and tone than by his words,—Mamba took his departure.

Meanwhile Mr Ellis made inquiries, visited the friend to whom he had been referred, and found that not only was Mamba a good and true man, but that many of his family “feared the Lord greatly.”

When, therefore, his anxious visitor returned very early the following morning, he was ready for him.

“I am assured that you are a Christian, Mamba,” he said, “as well as many of your kindred.”

“Yes, I love the Lord, and so do many of my kinsmen. But my family is large and scattered.”

“Have any of them got the Scriptures?”

“They have seen and heard them,” returned Mamba, “but all that we possess are a few pages of the words of David. These belong to the whole family. We send them from one to another, and each, after keeping them for a time, passes them on, until they have been read by all. They are in my hands just now.”

“Have you them with you?” asked the missionary. Mamba did not reply at once. He seemed unwilling to answer, but at last confessed that he had.

“Will you not show them to me? Surely you can trust me, brother!”

Mamba at length made up his mind. Thrusting his hand deep into his bosom, he drew a parcel from the folds of his lamba. This he slowly and carefully opened. One piece of cloth after another being unrolled, there appeared at length a few leaves of the Book of Psalms, which he cautiously handed to Mr Ellis.

Though it was evident that the greatest care had been taken of that much-prized portion of Scripture, the soiled appearance of the leaves, worn edges, and other marks of frequent use—like the two leaves owned by the wood-cutter—showed how much they had been read.

Even Mamba’s anxiety was allayed by the tender way in which the missionary handled his treasure, and the interest in it that he displayed.

“Now, my friend,” said Mr Ellis, still holding the tattered leaves, which Mamba seemed anxious to get back, “if you will give me these few words of David, I will give you all his words; and I will give you, besides, the words of Jesus, and of John, and Paul and Peter. See—here they are.”

Saying which, he handed to his visitor a copy of the New Testament and Psalms, in Malagasy, bound together.

But Mamba did not leap at this gift as might have been expected. Either it seemed to him to be too good news to be true, or he was of a sceptical turn of mind. At all events he was not satisfied until he had sat down with the missionary and assured himself that every verse in his ragged treasure was contained in the presented volume, and a great deal more besides. Then he let the old treasure go, and joyfully accepted the new, which, he said, he was going to carry back to his mother who greatly longed for it.

Before retiring with it, however, he mentioned his friend the wood-cutter, whom Mr Ellis remembered well, and gladly gave another Testament to be taken back to him. Then, uttering expressions of fervent gratitude, Mamba left the house.

In the course of that day the missionary inquired after his visitor, wishing to have further converse with him, but the Christians of Tamatave told him that Mamba had started off, almost immediately after quitting him, on his long return journey to Betsilio-land—doubtless “rejoicing as one that findeth great spoil.”

Dust was not allowed to accumulate on the Bibles of Madagascar in those days!

Chapter Eighteen.

Unexpected Deliverance and Several Surprises

At the time when Mamba started away on his expedition to Tamatave, Ravonino, as we have said, lay concealed in the forest, anxiously awaiting news from the town. At last the news came—the two white men and the negro had got involved in a row, and were in prison!

So said Laihova on entering the cave and seating himself, weary, worn, and dispirited, on a ledge of rock beside his friend, to whom he related all that had befallen.

“Give not way to despondency,” said Ravonino, though he could not smooth the lines of anxiety from his own brow. “Does not the Lord reign? Let the earth rejoice! No evil can befall unless permitted, and then it will surely work for good. Let us now consider what is to be done. But first, we will pray.”

In the gloom of the cavern the two men went down on their knees, and, in very brief but earnest sentences, made known their wants to their Creator.

“It is useless to remain here idle,” said the guide, as they resumed their seat on the ledge.

“It is useless to go into the town,” returned Laihova. “I am known now as one of those who aided Mamba to escape.”

“But I am not known—at least not in my present guise,” said Ravonino. “Have you seen Rafaravavy?”

“No; I tell you we had not been long in the town when this mischance befell.”

“Did not Mamba tell you why he has undertaken so long a journey?”

“He did not, but I can guess,” answered Laihova, with a slight smile. “The night before we left our friends in the cave in Betsilio-land I heard his mother urging him to accompany us to the capital and fetch her, if possible, a copy of the Word of God. She was joined in her persuasions by my sister Ramatoa, and you know he loves Ramatoa. I have no doubt that the two overcame his objections.”

“Do you know why he objected?” asked Ravonino.

“He said that he was afraid to quit his mother and the others at a time when she might sorely need his protection, but other motives may have influenced him.”