The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar Part 25

"I come--break chains," said the former.

He pointed to the chains which bound our travellers. They were quickly removed by two under-jailors and their chief.

"Now--com vis me."

To the surprise of the Interpreter, Mark Breezy crossed his arms over his breast, and firmly said--"No!" Swiftly understanding his motive, our seaman and Ebony followed suit with an equally emphatic, "No!"

The Interpreter looked at them in puzzled surprise.

"See," said Mark, pointing to the tortured man in the corner, "we refuse to move a step till that poor fellow's chains are eased off."

For a moment the Interpreter's look of surprise increased; then an indescribable smile lit up his swarthy features as he turned to the jailor and spoke a few words. The man went immediately to the curled-up wretch in the corner and relaxed his chains so that he was enabled to give vent to a great sigh of relief. Hockins and Ebony uttered sighs of sympathy almost as loud, and Mark, turning to the Interpreter, said, with some emotion, "Thank you! G.o.d bless you! Now we will follow."

Note 1. The fetters here described may be seen in the Museum of the London Missionary Society in Blomfield Street, London, along with an interesting collection of Malagasy relics.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

MAMBA IS SUCCOURED BY ONE OF THE "ANCIENT SOOT," AND FULFILS HIS MYSTERIOUS MISSION.

When Laihova and Mamba took the reckless "headers" which we have described in a former chapter, they tumbled into a court-yard which was used as a sort of workshop. Fortunately for them the owner of the house was not a man of orderly habits. He was rather addicted to let rubbish lie till stern necessity forced him to clear it away. Hence he left heaps of dust, shavings, and other things to acc.u.mulate in heaps. One such heap happened to lie directly under the window, through which the adventurous men plunged, so that, to their immense satisfaction, and even surprise, they came down soft and arose unhurt.

Instantly they slipped into an outhouse, and there held hurried converse in low tones.

"What will you do now?" asked Laihova.

"I will remain where I am till night-fall, for I dare not show myself all bruised like this. When it is dark I will slip out and continue my journey to the coast."

"To Tamatave?" asked Laihova, naming the chief seaport on the eastern side of Madagascar.

"Yes, to Tamatave."

"Do you go there to trade?"

"No. I go on important business."

It was evident that, whatever his business might be, Mamba, for reasons best known to himself, resolved to keep his own counsel. Seeing this, his friend said--

"Well, I go to the eastward also, for Ravoninohitriniony awaits me there; but I fear that our English friends will be thrown into prison."

"Do you think so?" asked Mamba, anxiously. "If you think I can be helpful I will give up my important business and remain with you."

"You cannot help us much, I think. Perhaps your presence may be a danger instead of a help. Besides, I have friends here who have power.

And have we not G.o.d to direct us in all things? No, brother, as your business is important, go."

Mamba was evidently much relieved by this reply, and his friend saw clearly that he had intended to make a great personal sacrifice when he offered to remain.

"But now I must myself go forth without delay," continued Laihova. "I am not well-known here, and, once clear of this house, can walk openly and without much risk out of the city. Whatever befalls the Englishmen, Ravoninohitriniony and I will help and pray for them."

Another minute and he was gone. Pa.s.sing the gates without arousing suspicion, he was soon walking rapidly towards the forest in which his friend Ravonino lay concealed.

Meanwhile, Mamba hid himself behind some bags of grain in the outhouse until night-fall, when he sallied boldly forth and made his way to the house of a friend, who, although not a Christian, was too fond of him to refuse him shelter.

This friend was a man of rank and ancient family. The soot hung in long strings from his roof-tree. He was one of "the ancient soot!"

The houses in the city are usually without ceiling--open to the ridge-pole, though there is sometimes an upper chamber occupying part of the s.p.a.ce, which is reached by a ladder. There are no chimneys, therefore, and smoke from the wood and gra.s.s fires settles upon the rafters in great quant.i.ties inside. As it is never cleared away, the soot of course acc.u.mulates in course of time and hangs down in long pendants. So far from considering this objectionable, the Malagasy have come to regard it with pride; for, as each man owns his own house, the great acc.u.mulations of soot have come to be regarded as evidence of the family having occupied the dwelling from ancient times. Hence the "old families" are sometimes complimented by the sovereign, in proclamations, by being styled "the ancient soot!"

The particular Ancient Soot who accorded hospitality that night to Mamba was much surprised, but very glad, to see him. "Have you arrived?" he asked, with a good deal of ceremonial gesticulation.

"I have arrived," answered Mamba.

"Safely and well, I hope."

"Safely and well," replied Mamba--ceremonially of course, for in reality he had barely arrived with life, and certainly not with a sound skin.

"Come in, then," said the Ancient Soot. "And how are you? I hope it is well with you. Behold, spread a mat for him, there, one of you. And is it well with you?"

"Well indeed," said Mamba once again, falsely but ceremonially.

"May you live to grow old!" resumed Soot. "And you have arrived safely?

Come in. Where are you going?"

"I'm going yonder--westward," replied Mamba, with charming conventional vagueness, as he sat down on the mat.

"But it appears to me," said Ancient Soot, pa.s.sing from the region of compliment into that of fact, and looking somewhat closely at his friend, "it seems to me that you have been hurt."

Mamba now explained the exact state of the case, said that he required a good long rest, after that a hearty meal, then a lamba and a little money, for he had been despoiled of everything he had possessed by the furious crowd that so nearly killed him.

His kind host was quite ready to a.s.sist him in every way. In a few minutes he was sound asleep in a little chamber on the rafters, where he could rest without much risk of disturbance or discovery.

All next day he remained in hiding. When it began to grow dusk his host walked with him through the streets and through the gates, thus rendering his pa.s.sage less likely to be observed--for this particular Ancient Soot was well-known in the town.

"I will turn now. What go you to the coast for?" asked his friend, when about to part.

"You would laugh at me if I told you," said Mamba.

"Then tell me not," returned his friend, with much delicacy of feeling, "for I would be sorry to laugh at my friend."

Thus they parted. Ancient Soot returned to the home of his forefathers, and Mamba walked smartly along the road that leads to the seaport of Tamatave.

He spent that night in the residence of a friend; the next in the hut of a government wood-cutter.

Felling timber, as might be supposed, was, and still is, an important branch of industry in Madagascar. Forests of varied extent abound in different parts of the country, and an immense belt of forest of two or three days' journey in width covers the interior of the island. These forests yield abundance of timber of different colour and texture, and of various degrees of hardness and durability.

The wood-cutter, an old man, was busy splitting a large tree into planks by means of wedges when our traveller came up. This wasteful method of obtaining planks is still practised by some natives of the South Sea Islands. Formerly the Malagasy never thought of obtaining more than two planks out of a single tree, however large the tree might be. They merely split the tree down the middle, and then chopped away the outside of each half until it was reduced to the thickness required. The advent of the English missionaries, however, in the early part of this century, introduced light in regard to the things of time as well as those of eternity-among other things, the pit-saw, which has taught the natives to "gather up the fragments so that nothing be lost." Thick planks are still however sometimes procured in the old fashion.