The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar

“Strike off his fetters,” she said, and gave the signal to her bearers to move on.

“Ay,” said Mark to the Secretary in an authoritative tone, “and also strike off the fetters of the other three!”

“You’ve got cheek for anything a’most, doctor,” said the amazed and amused seaman, as they fell into the procession, and followed the Queen to the pleasure-garden.

Here extensive preparations had been made for spending the day in games and festivities that far exceeded anything of the sort ever before attempted in that land. For Mark Breezy had not only an ingenious mind to devise, but an organising spirit to make use of the services of others in carrying out his plans.

When the guests were scattered about the grounds, after a good breakfast, enjoying the delightful shade of the trees, tempting the gold-fish in the lake with crumbs of food, and loitering among the by-paths, the young doctor made himself almost ubiquitous. Acting the double part of manager of the games and amusements, and private conspirator, he set an army of palace officials in motion, whom he pledged to secrecy, and led each to suppose that he was the prime mover in some plot that was to astonish and delight the Queen, in all which he was ably assisted by the Secretary. When he had thus stirred up, as it were, an air of mystery and expectation, he led the Secretary, Hockins, and Ebony, to a retired spot, and, bidding them sit down, gave them a brief address.

“You see,” he said, “the time has now come for me to explain to you more fully the plans and plots with which I have been engaged for some time past. And in doing so I would impress upon you, Mr Secretary, that I am placing my life in your hands; but I do so without fear, believing that you are a Christian and will not betray me.”

Mark paused and looked full at the Secretary, who said, “But you must remember that I can do nothing that will be disloyal to the Queen.”

“If you were persecuted by the Queen and threatened with death, would you consider it allowable to fly to the forests?”

“Yes—the Word of the Lord recommends that.”

“Would you consider it right to assist a fellow-Christian to fly?”

“Truly I would!”

“Well then, you will assist me this night, for I have spoken to Rafaravavy. My Malagasy words are few, but love does not require many words! She has agreed to fly with Ravonino—”

“Have you seen Ravonino lately?” asked Hockins.

“No—I have not seen him lately.”

“How, then, do you know he will be ready?”

“Because,” said Mark, with a peculiar look, “I have been smitten with his complaint, and know that it runs the same course and exhibits the same phases in most men. Let a young fellow see his intended bride treated with cruelty, and you may be sure that, no matter what difficulties may be in the way, he will hasten at the very first opportunity to meet and carry off the sweet little fairy in spite of—”

“Das me an’ my black darlin’, zactly—same zif you bin dar an’ sawd us do it!” exclaimed Ebony, with beaming interest.

“Just so,” resumed Mark. “However, I have not left things altogether to chance. Although I did not see Ravonino lately, I saw him not very long ago, and gave him to understand that when some unusual festivities were going on in this garden he was to be ready at the old spot for whatever might happen! Now, here is my little plan. You know I’ve been drilling fifty picked natives for some time in that big shed at the back of the cliff on the north side o’ the city. I picked them for intelligence as well as strength and activity. Well, I have taught them a wild war-dance. It cost me no little trouble and many sleepless nights to invent it, but I’ve managed it, and hope to show the Queen and Court what can be done by a little organisation. These fifty are first of all to glide quietly among the trees, each man to a particular spot and hang on the branches fifty earthen saucers full of grease, with wicks in them. At a given signal they are to light these instantaneously and retire. At another signal they are to rush upon the open space in front of the garden-house, and there engage in a sham fight. While thus engaged, men who have been taught will set fire to the mildest of our fireworks. When these are about to go out I will myself light the big Roman candle—”

“De young cannon, massa?”

“Yes, the young cannon, and that will keep things going for a considerable time. Now, it is when the fight of the fifty begins and engrosses the attention of every one that I will myself take Rafaravavy out from among the ladies and lead her to the rendezvous. You will all stand by—to lend a hand if need be—at the south-east corner of the garden-house, that I may know exactly where to find you. My hope and expectation is that by keeping things going as long as possible our friends Ravonino and Rafaravavy will get a good start. After the flight of the latter is found out, nothing more can be done for them.”

“Do they go all alone?” asked Hockins.

“No, Laihova goes with them; and Mamba, who knows the secret meeting-places of the Christians, will, I have no doubt, soon find out which way they have gone. Anyhow they will all certainly make for the cave in Betsilio-land where so many of their friends are. May God speed them! Meanwhile we must keep the Queen amused with races, wrestling, and such-like; and when she begins to get wearied with mere eating and talking, I want you, Hockins, to go in for a wrestling-match with Ebony by way of varying the entertainment, and showing them what Englishmen and niggers can do.”

“Wery good,” said the seaman, with a sedate smile, “if that’s to be the fun, you better make your will, Ebony, for I’ll break your back.”

“All right,” retorted Ebony, with a grin, “an’ I tink you’ll be wise to make your last dyin’ speech afore we begin, for I’ll bust you!”

The various plans which we have here sketched were carried out with such brilliant success that the Queen did not weary at all, and darkness began to descend on the scene before the day seemed to have half run its course. At this point Mark hastened to the south-east corner of the garden-house, where he found the other conspirators faithfully at their post.

“Have you the flageolet with you?” he asked, hastily.

“In course I has. Never goes nowheres without it,” said the seaman, drawing the little instrument from his breast-pocket.

“Go then, make your bow to the Queen, and give her a tune. You know she’s quite in love with your pipe—or yourself—and has been asking me about it already. She’s in the verandah just now, and they are lighting the torches there.”

With the silent obedience of a man-of-war’s man, Hockins went off, and, without prelude, began. Dead silence was the instant result, for the small bird-like pipe seemed to charm the very soul of every one who heard it. We know not whether it was accident or a spice of humour in the seaman, but the tune he played was “Jock o’ Hazeldean!” And as Mark hurried off to see that his fifty men were in readiness, he gave vent to a slight laugh as he thought of the lines:

“She’s ower the border and awa’    Wi’ Jock o’ Hazeldean!”

To the surprise of the audience, no sooner had the last notes of the air died away than the performer thrust the pipe into his pocket, threw off his coat, and in a loud voice challenged the best man in Madagascar to wrestle with him. As the challenge was given in English of course no native responded. Even if it had been given in choice Malagasy we question whether any brown man there would have ventured a hug with the huge sailor. But no sooner had the challenge passed his lips than Ebony sprang forward, flung off not only his coat but his vest and shirt, and embraced his white opponent in a grip of iron.

At that opportune moment the signal was given to the fifty men, who applied their lights, and, as if by magic, the entire scene was illuminated by a blaze of intense light that almost rivalled that of the sun itself!

A tremendous “oo!—oo!—oo!” of applause burst from the astonished company, who, having had their attention fixed on the wrestlers, did not observe how the sudden illumination had been effected.

Truly the proceedings of Hockins and Ebony would have surprised even more finished wrestlers than those of Madagascar, for the two men had entered into a sly compact not only to exert their strength to the uttermost, but to give way, each at certain points or moments, when by so doing the appearance of what they styled a “back-breaker” and a “buster” might be achieved in an effective manner. It was a marvellous exhibition. Ebony glared and gasped! Hockins growled and frowned! Nothing short of a tussle between Achilles and Hercules could have equalled it. The Court, from the Queen downwards, was awe-stricken, eye-strained, open-mouthed, and breathless, but Mark felt that it was time to cut it short. Giving a preconcerted signal, he caused both men to fall down side by side as if exhausted but not conquered. Then he gave another signal. A moment after, fire-wheels and Roman candles began to play, and the fifty warriors rushed upon the scene, brandishing muskets and yelling like fiends.

Hastening, according to orders, to the south-east corner of the garden-house, Hockins and Ebony found the Director-General awaiting them.

“I cannot delay to fire the big candle,” he said quickly.

“De young cannon!” panted Ebony.

“Yes, yes. You must fire it for me in about ten minutes or so, when the warriors seem to be getting knocked up. Follow me, Hockins, and keep close.”

Another minute and Rafaravavy, who was standing near the Queen’s chair, felt a touch on her arm. She looked round with a start, for, like every one else, she had been fascinated and quite engrossed by the scene before her.

A glance and motion of the hand from Mark sufficed. She glided gently backwards and reached the other side of the house unobserved. Here Mark grasped her hand and Hockins followed. They walked at first, but began to run on gaining the shrubbery, which was rendered doubly dark by contrast with the glare behind them.

In a couple of minutes they reached the thicket where the previous meeting had taken place. The over-arching foliage deepened the darkness so that it was impossible to distinguish features. A form was dimly seen, but it was only by the sound of the voice that they knew it to be Ravonino.

Few words were uttered. Every instant was precious.

“Farewell, dear friend,” said Ravonino, grasping Mark’s hand, “God grant that we may meet again in better times! Laihova waits for me beyond the garden—”

He stopped abruptly, seized Rafaravavy’s hand and glided with her noiselessly into the thicket, for at that moment another figure was seen to approach them. From his unusual size they knew him to be one of Ranavalona’s chief executioners. He was a cool-headed and suspicious man, a sort of natural detective, who always had his wits about him. Having observed several people gliding through the shrubbery he had quitted the sports and followed. To have been recognised by this official would have been fatal—at least to those plotters who did not take to flight. Hockins, who was prompt to conceive and act when danger pressed, at once stepped forward and gave the man of blood a right-hander on the top of the nose which instantly Romanised that feature and laid its owner on his back insensible.

At the same moment—as if the blow had been the touching of a secret spring—the whole garden was lighted up with a magnificent red glare, and they knew that Ebony had done his part and lighted the giant candle. The red glare lasted long enough to reveal the fact that Ravonino and Rafaravavy were gone, and that the man at their feet was indeed the executioner whom they had guessed him to be. Leaving him there they ran quickly back to the scene of festivities, hoping that their absence had not been observed. Before they had gone half-a-dozen steps there was an explosion like that of a big gun, a bomb went high into the air, and burst in a magnificent constellation of brilliant stars, mingled with fiery rain. The “oo!—oo!—oo!” cheers became vociferous at this, and were, if possible, still more enthusiastic when the red fire changed to a beautiful blue.

“Splendid!” exclaimed Mark, much satisfied with the result of his recent labours, “and it will keep going on for a considerable time yet.”

As he spoke there was a crash like the loudest thunder, and a momentary glare as of the brightest noon-light, which was followed by intense darkness, while the garden was shaken as if by an earthquake. Loud cries and shrieks were accompanied by the falling of a shower of dust and small stones. Evidently there had been a catastrophe, and the quaking conspirators hastened to the spot, half expecting to find the Queen and Court of Madagascar blown to atoms.

“The whole consarn’s busted up!” exclaimed Hockins, on coming in sight of the garden-house.

The seaman’s explanation was the true one. Owing to some inexplicable mistake in the loading of the monster Roman candle, fire had communicated somehow with the lowest charge, which was a good strong one, intended to propel a glorious mass of ingenious contrivances into the air and end the matter with an effective bang. As it turned out, the bang was ten times more effective, for it not only blew out the entire charge but burst the cast-iron case, and upturned tons of earth in which Mark had taken the precaution to bury the thing up to its neck.

At first the Queen, like her people, had got a severe fright; but, seeing that no one seemed to be hurt, she controlled her feelings, under the impression, no doubt, that the explosion was part of the programme.

“Have you got your whistle, Hockins?” asked Mark, quickly, as he ran forward.

“Ay, sir—always here, ready for action!”

“Come, then, play up when I give the word—something quieting. Hold on! Let’s do it sedately.”

By this time they had got within the circle of torchlight. Reducing their run to a smart walk the two friends advanced, as Mark had suggested, sedately, in front of the Queen, while the Secretary rejoined the circle of courtiers unperceived.

As they advanced they encountered Ebony with an unused Roman candle in each hand, and an expression of horror on his black face.

“Oh! massa—” he began.

“Hush! never mind! Follow me!” said Mark, in a peremptory whisper.

Another moment and the sweet tones of the flageolet silenced the noise of the excited throng, as Hockins stood before the Queen and played one of the sweetest of Scottish songs.

Mark placed Ebony behind his comrade, made him hold up the Roman candles, quietly lighted them both, and retired. Thus Hockins, much to his own surprise, found himself, in the midst of spouting fire, producing the melodious notes of “Afton Water!”

When the little candles exploded, our Director-General advanced to the royal chair and expressed a hope that the performances had given satisfaction.

This the Secretary—ever-ready in time of need—translated, and returned the answer that the Queen was charmed, after which the proceedings terminated, and Ranavalona returned to her palace to dream, no doubt, of fireworks and music instead of martyrdoms.

So engrossed was the whole Court with the exciting and singular events of the day that no one noticed the absence of Rafaravavy, and, happily, the Queen did not happen to require her attendance that night.

Even those who were in closest proximity to the fugitive’s own room were so taken up with what they had seen that they either did not think of her, or supposed that fatigue had induced her to retire early.

Thus it came to pass that when her flight was discovered on the following day, Rafaravavy, carried by strong and willing bearers, and guarded by her devoted Ravonino and his faithful friend Laihova, was being swiftly borne over mountain and plain to the forest stronghold in Betsilio-land.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Flight and Pursuit of Ravonino and Rafaravavy

The fury of the Queen when she heard of the flight of Rafaravavy was terrible, for this was the second of her favourite ladies-in-waiting who had become Christians and deserted her Court in fear of their lives—Ra-Ruth, the fair little sister of Ravonino, having been the first.

Fortunately Ranavalona did not think of connecting the flight of Rafaravavy with the recent entertainments, so that suspicion did not attach to Mark and his friends. Neither did the executioner with the Romanised nose suspect them, for in the profound darkness he had not been able to see who it was that knocked the senses out of him; and when afterwards he was told of the explosion that had occurred, he came to the conclusion, (and told his friends), that a big stone, hurled into the air at that time, had descended on his head and felled him. Whether the “friends” believed this or not we cannot say, but certain it is that they covertly rejoiced in the accident, for naturally the man of blood was no favourite!

As might be supposed, soldiers were at once despatched all over the country in search of the fugitive; and the Queen, relapsing into one of her dark fits of cruelty, began to persecute the Christians more severely than ever. Still, Mark Breezy strove to influence her towards mercy, and in some measure restrained her.

Meanwhile Ravonino and his party pushed on in hot haste towards their place of refuge in the wild forest.

The dangers to which they were exposed and the risks they ran on this adventurous journey were too numerous to be related in detail. We can only touch on a few of them here.

Laihova, it may be mentioned in passing, failed to join them, certainly not from want of will, but because the place where he had concealed himself was discovered while he lay awaiting the signal to join his friends. Two female relations who knew of his hiding-place were caught, convicted, if we may so put it, of Christianity! and put to the torture. Although true-hearted, these poor girls were so agonised by suffering and terror that, in a moment of weakness, they disclosed the secret. But even among prison authorities there were found followers of Jesus—secretly, however, for fear of the tyrant Queen—and one of these sent a swift messenger to Laihova to warn him. Had the youth been an ordinary man the warning would have been too late, for close on the heels of the messenger came the soldiers with his death-warrant. But Laihova was gifted with cool courage and unusual speed of foot. Trust, also, in the certainty of God’s blessing, whether life or death should be his portion, filled him with that spirit of enthusiastic energy which goes so far, in all circumstances of life, to ensure success. He soon distanced his pursuers, left them out of sight behind, and, finally, found refuge with a Christian friend, who hid him over an oven in his house when he had reached the last stage of exhaustion from hard running, and could not have advanced further without rest. The soldiers came up and searched the house while he was asleep, but happily did not observe the oven! They remained there, however, over the night, and thus rendered it impossible for Laihova to join his friends at that time.

Ravonino could not, of course, afford to delay. Knowing also that his young friend was well able to take care of himself, and that his soul’s anchor was the Lord, he felt comparatively little anxiety in starting without him.

To let Rafaravavy have female companionship on the hazardous journey, her lover induced a Christian girl who had been named Sarah to accompany them. This faithful creature was the means of saving their lives more than once by giving timely warning of approaching danger.

The first place to which the fugitives directed their steps was a village about fifty miles from the capital, where dwelt a Christian who, with his wife, offered them hospitality and protection. This man had sent a noble message to the persecuted ones in the city. It ran thus:—

“Let all the Christians who are compelled to run away for their lives come to me. I will take care of them. As long as I am safe they are safe, and as long as I have food they shall share it.”

Not an hour’s rest was taken until the house of their friend was reached. Of course they were received with open arms. Food was placed before them, and mats were spread in a safe place on which they might rest. But neither food nor repose would the fugitives take until they had joined the Christian family in thanking God for their escape and in singing His praise.

“Sing the hymn of dear Ramanisa,” said Ravonino as he seated himself at the side of Rafaravavy, after arranging her mat.

The host smiled as he turned over the leaves of a Malagasy hymn-book. “All the fugitives like that hymn,” he said.

“Do you wonder?” returned his guest. “Before the last great persecution he was one of our most faithful preachers of the Gospel, and when trouble came he always forgot himself in his eager desire to help and comfort others. Many a time has he guided and strengthened the Lord’s people when they have been compelled to fly,—to travel weary and footsore by night, to wander in the dark forests, and hide in the gloomy caves. Wherever he went there was sunshine, because his heart was very full of the love of Jesus; and when he was led out to be speared, was he not faithful to the last? Perhaps we may be permitted to sing his own hymn along with him some day before the throne. No wonder that we love the words of Ramanisa. They called him Josiah when he was baptized, but he was Ramanisa when the Lord called him, and I think that is the name that is written in the Book of Life.”

The hymn composed by this good native, which these Christians began to sing—and which is incorporated, as we have said, in the Malagasy hymn-book,—is still, and will doubtless continue to be, a great favourite with the Christians of Madagascar. The following is a translation of three of the verses.5

“Loud to the Lord your voices raise,Extol His name, exalt His praise;Publish the wonders of His handO’er all the earth, in every land.“Oh! God, our God, to Thee we cry,Jesus, the Saviour, be Thou nigh;Oh! sacred Spirit, hear our prayer,And save the afflicted from despair.“Scarce can we find a place of rest,Save dens and caves, with hunger press’d;Yet Thy compassion is our bliss,Pilgrims amidst a wilderness.”

Poor Rafaravavy had full proof of the truth embodied in these lines, both as to the affliction and the bliss, before many days were over. The soldiers being strong hardy men, burdened only with their arms, and with little clothing, pushed after the three fugitives with so much vigour that they arrived at the place where the latter had rested on the second day of their flight. While soldiers were thus close to them the utmost caution and close concealment were necessary. They remained where they were, therefore, and every morning, before dawn, Ravonino stole out to a neighbouring mountain with Rafaravavy and her maid. There they lay hid among the craggy rocks until night-fall, when they returned to their friend’s house.

But soon this place of concealment became known to the persecuting prime minister, Rainiharo, who directed the soldiers to search the mountain before going to the village. This they did, but did not find the fugitives, for, as it was cold that morning, they had agreed to run the risk of remaining in the house!

Failing to find those they sought for in the mountain, the soldiers entered the village and approached the house where they lay unperceived by human eye, and it seemed as if at last Rafaravavy’s doom was sealed. Other eyes, however,—very black and sharp ones—observed the enemy, and the owners of these eyes—a flock of crows—rose in alarm at their approach.

“Oh!” exclaimed the handmaiden, Sarah, “the crows are at the rice I spread out to dry!” and out she ran to rescue it. One glimpse of the soldiers was enough. Sarah was equal to the occasion. Without even a backward glance she gave warning to those in the house, but cleverly continued her raid upon the crows, laughingly asking the men when she passed them, “if they had come there to search for run-away Christians!”

“This way,” whispered the host to his two guests when the warning reached him. Leading them to an inner room he made them creep under a bed and covered them with a mat. As for the chair-bearers and their burden, such adjuncts to Malagasy travel were too numerous and common in the land to attract much attention. Fortunately the soldiers were hungry, and, being eager for food, did not search the house with care, but during their stay of an hour poor Rafaravavy heard all they said respecting her and the orders that had been issued for her arrest and death. At the same time Ravonino became aware that his presence in the neighbourhood was known, though his complicity in the abduction of his companion in distress, he fancied, had not been suspected.