Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar
Chapter Twenty One.
Mamba, Subjected to the Ordeal of the “Tangena,” escapes, but afterwards accuses himself and is Condemned
If not yet among the martyrs, it was soon evident that Mamba stood a good chance of being among them before long—and that the mother of whom he was so fond, and for the gratification of whose spiritual longings he had risked so much, would probably never receive the Gospel of Peace from his hands.
While in prison under accusation of being a believer in the religion of the white man, he had debated much with himself as to what was his duty in the present distress. Was he bound to confess Christ and take the consequence—which, of course, he knew to be death? To deny Him was out of the question. He at once dismissed that idea as untenable. But was there no other mode of escape? Did not the Word itself advise that when persecuted in one city he was not only entitled but advised to escape to another? “But how am I to escape? Oh God, guide me!” he cried, lifting his clasped hands as he converted the question into a prayer.
The rattling of his chains seemed to bid him dismiss all hope, but he did not lose faith. He continued to pray and meditate. And the longer he meditated the more anxiously did he long to be back in the cave beside his Reni—his humble-minded loving little mother—and beside—yes, he made no attempt to conceal it from himself—beside the beautiful queen-like sister of Laihova. The more he meditated, however, the more hopeless did his case seem to become. To lie he would not—not even to gain Ramatoa. To die he would rather not! To escape he could not!
At last he hit upon an idea. He would refuse to answer. He would take refuge in absolute silence!
As might have been expected, this course of policy did not avail him much. When it was found that he would not say whether he was a Christian or not, it was resolved that the matter should be settled by an appeal to the ordeal of the Tangena.
This used to be a common and much-practised ordeal in Madagascar in days but recently past. It consisted in the administration of poison. Other ordeals existed in the island—such as passing a red-hot iron over the tongue, or plunging the naked arm into a large pot of boiling water and picking out a pebble thrown therein for the purpose of trial. Alas for both innocent and guilty subjected to either trial! But the ordeal most universally in favour was that of the Tangena.
The Tangena is in fact a poisonous nut about the size of a chestnut which derives its name from the tree that bears it. If taken in small doses it acts as an emetic; if in large doses it kills. Many pages would be required to give a full and particular account of all the Malagasy superstitions connected with the ordeal. Let it suffice to say, roughly, that previous to the poison being administered the accused person is obliged to swallow whole, or rather bolt, three pieces of the skin of a fowl, about the size of a dollar. Then the decoction of Tangena in rice-water is administered. If given strong it kills, and the unfortunate is held to have been guilty. If not too strong, and the sufferer be able to bear it, vomiting is the result, and the three pieces of skin are eagerly looked for. The finding of the pieces proves the accused to be innocent. The not finding of them proves him guilty, and at once, if he be a free man, he is killed, if a slave he is sold, and got rid of in some distant market. There was a very complex system of combined profit and superstition surrounding the whole affair which it is difficult as well as useless thoroughly to understand, but which it is easy to see afforded clever scoundrels the means of persecuting, defrauding, or killing any whom they chanced to dislike, or who stood in their way. Of course it was very easy to make the potion strong enough to kill, or to dilute it with rice-water until it became almost harmless.
Now, when Mark Breezy heard that Mamba was condemned to swallow the Tangena he went straight to his friend Rakota.
“Prince Rakota,” he said, earnestly, “if your expressions of gratitude to me are sincere you will save the life of this man.”
“I will try,” returned the Prince, “but the Queen is very angry just now!”
When the Prince pleaded for the man’s life Ranavalona asked of what he was accused.
“Of praying to the Christians’ God.”
“Does he admit the charge?” demanded the Queen sternly.
“No—I believe not.”
“Then, let the Tangena decide. It always speaks the truth. Our ancestors thought so, and I will not change the customs of our ancestors!” said this outrageously conservative queen.
Rakota, however, was a determined man and not easily foiled. Going privately to those who had the management of the matter, he made use of those mysterious arguments with which princes manage to attain their ends, and afterwards told Mark the result, which was, according to Hockins, that, “Mamba’s grog was to be well-watered!” As Mark could do nothing more for his friend he went with his companions to see the result.
There was another man, accused of stealing, who was to be tested at the same time. He was a strong sturdy pugnacious-looking man.
A good deal of ceremonial of course preceded the ordeal. Among other things the poison had to be tested on two fowls. It killed them both and was deemed too strong. Being diluted it was tried on two other fowls, and killed neither. It was therefore considered rather weak. At last, having been reduced to the exact strength which killed one fowl and only sickened the other, the potion was administered to the reputed thief, after a long prayer or invocation. For two hours there was no result, but at the end of that time the pains began, and increased with much violence, yet the man maintained his innocence. His agonies were soon extreme. Amidst his torture he solicited medicine, but this was refused. His bowels, he said, were writhing as if in knots. His groans were awful. His eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets. His countenance assumed a ghastly hue, and his entire frame was convulsed with torture. Then he vomited violently, and, fortunately for him, the three pieces of skin which he had swallowed made their appearance. He was at once pronounced innocent and set free.
Poor Mamba had to witness all this before his own turn came. Once more he was questioned, but continued dumb. Then he was made to swallow his three pieces of skin and to drink the Tangena.
The state of mind of his friends as they watched him after what they had just seen may be conceived but cannot be described. In Mamba’s case the poison acted differently. Being well diluted, its effects, although severe, were not to be compared with those experienced by the first sufferer. Still they were bad enough, and vomiting commenced much sooner. To the great satisfaction of his friends the three pieces of skin were ejected, and Mamba, being pronounced innocent, had his fetters removed and was set free.
But when Mark hastened to congratulate him, what was his surprise to see the poor fellow clasp his hands and raise them to Heaven, while an expression of pain—very different from that resulting from physical suffering—convulsed his features.
“Oh! no, no!” he exclaimed, in a tone of agony, “I am not innocent. I am guilty! guilty! very wicked! I have denied Thee, dear Lord, by my looks, though not with my lips! Forgive me, O God!” Then, turning quickly to the officers of justice, “Here—put on the chains again. I am a praying man! I love the Lord Jesus. He will save you as well as me if you will come to Him!”
As this was spoken in the native language our Englishmen did not understand it, but they had little difficulty in guessing the drift of it when they saw the officers replace the chains and lead Mamba back to prison, where the last words the jailor heard as he left him were, “Mother, mother! Ramatoa! I shall never more see your dear faces in this life—never more!”
But in this Mamba was mistaken, as the sequel will show.
Meanwhile Mark hurried back to the palace and told Rakota what had occurred. The Prince was not surprised. He had mingled much with the Christians, and knew well the spirit by which they were animated. He went at once to the Queen, who was enraged at first by his persistent pleading, vowed that Mamba should die, and gave orders to that effect. But on reconsidering the matter she commuted the sentence into life-long slavery in long chains.
There is usually but brief delay between a sentence and its execution in Madagascar. The very next day heavy chains were riveted on Mamba. These, at one end, were attached to an iron collar round his neck, at the other end to iron rings round his ankles. What sailors would call the slack of these heavy fetters was gathered up in one of the wearer’s hands, and thus carried while he moved about at work.
The poor fellow was first set to work on a piece of road-mending just outside the city gate, with several others—martyrs and criminals—in similar condemnation. And here Mark and his companions met him unexpectedly before they were aware that the fearful punishment had begun.
At the time poor Mamba was toiling with pick and shovel. His heart was almost broken. Death he could have faced without flinching, but to be a life-long slave in galling chains, with the possibility even of seeing his mother and Ramatoa, without being permitted to go near or speak to them, was almost more than he could bear. A deep groan burst from his overcharged breast as he cried, “Oh Lord Jesus, enable me to bear it!”
It was just then that Ebony observed him and uttered a falsetto cry of astonishment.
The Secretary, who was conducting Mark and Hockins on a visit to one of the suburban places of resort, stopped and looked round.
“Dars Mamba, massa!” cried Ebony.
Mark ran to him at once, but was stopped by the guard. A few words from the Secretary, however, sufficed, and Mark was allowed to speak to the slave, which he did through the Secretary.
Despair was in Mamba’s every tone and look, for the crushing calamity was too recent and too tremendous to be borne with equanimity at first. Yet through it all there ran, as it were, a tiny silver thread of hope.
“For is it not true,” he said, “that ‘with God all things are possible?’”
“My friend,” said Mark in reply, and with a burst of enthusiasm, “I will save you somehow! Keep a good heart.”
Mamba smiled faintly, yet gratefully, as he shook his head, gathered up the superfluous links of his chain, and resumed his toil.
“How will you save him?” asked the Secretary, with a peculiar half-amused look, as they walked away.
“I know not,” answered Mark. “But we have a proverb, ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ and I have a determined will to save my poor friend from this slavery. I will not cease to try—as we say in England, ‘I will leave no stone unturned,’—till I have accomplished this thing. Moreover I will not cease to pray for this end. Mamba’s trust in God puts me to shame. Up to this time I have only recognised by name that Saviour whom this man worships. God helping me, I will henceforth follow the Lord!”
To the surprise of the young man the Secretary turned suddenly on him and grasped his hand, and said in a low voice, as he looked cautiously round—“It gives me joy to hear you speak so. I too am a follower of Jesus. I tell you this because I know, now, that you will not betray me. There are many of us in the palace besides Prince Rakota, but we dare not speak out, for the Queen is very angry, as you know. Hush! Tell it not even to our companions. Little birds have ears. If the Queen suspects any of us, in her present state of mind, she will either ruin or kill us.”
“I have heard something of this,” said Mark, “from the friend who guided us to the capital—”
“I know,” interrupted the Secretary, with an intelligent nod. “It was Ravoninohitriniony. He is well-known to us. He loves Rafaravavy, and is now in the neighbourhood of the capital, hoping to induce her to fly with him to the forests. You are surprised, but you would not be so if you knew the number of spies that Ranavalona has out everywhere.”
“Has my friend Ravonino,” (we call him so for brevity), “been seen in—in—I mean near the city lately?” asked Mark, anxiously.
“Not in the city, certainly,” returned the Secretary. “Bold and daring though he is, he would scarcely venture that; but he has been seen and heard of more than once lately.”
Mark felt relieved. It was evident the Secretary neither knew of nor suspected the fact that Ravonino had actually attended the garden party and met Rafaravavy almost under the Queen’s eyes! Remembering, however, that the Prime Minister had sent Soa to pretend to be a Christian, in order that he might discover the secrets of the Christians, and not having yet had much experience of the Secretary’s character, he resolved to be very cautious in his reference to Ravonino,—indeed to any one with whom he had to do. Acting on this resolve he changed the subject by asking questions about the extensive rice-grounds around the capital.
The Secretary was of a communicative disposition, and evidently fond of airing his English. He willingly followed in conversation wherever the young doctor chose to lead, and gave him and his friends a great deal of interesting information as to the manners and customs of the Malagasy people—their habits, beliefs, and laws.
Among the latter he spoke of a curious fact in regard to criminals which gave Mark a sudden inspiration! Hockins afterwards styled it a “wrinkle.” Ebony called it a “dodge.” But, whatever might be said on that head, it had the effect of very materially altering the conditions of some of the personages of this tale, as the following chapters will show.
Chapter Twenty Two.
The Court Physician prescribes for the Queen—A Blow-up, and Mysterious Preparations for Tremendous Surprises
About this time the anger of Queen Ranavalona against the Christians was so great that she made herself quite ill, and more than once had to send for her Court Physician, Mark Breezy, to prescribe for her.
Our youthful medico understood her complaint, which was a simple one. He prescribed much exercise, change of air, and amusement, so as to distract her mind from the cares of State and the evil passions to which she was giving way. He hoped thus to serve the Christians indirectly, for he saw clearly that the mere mention of their existence made her ill. Some slight administrations of physic, also, coupled with judicious alterations of diet, put her Majesty in a state of such excellent health and spirits that she began to entertain quite a warm regard for her Court Physician, and congratulated herself not a little on the good fortune which had sent him to the capital.
Thus Mark was enabled to disperse, for a time, the dark cloud which had been lowering over the land—not, however, in time to prevent many Christians from being slain, and some even of the officers and ladies of the palace from being degraded, their honours taken from them, and themselves and children sold as slaves.
Among the ladies, Rafaravavy had a narrow escape. For a time her life seemed to hang by a hair, for she was rebellious as well as fearless, and would sing her favourite hymns in spite of orders to the contrary! Love prevailed, however, as in the case of Prince Rakota, and she was tolerated as a sort of spoilt child.
Being a favourite, Mark of course became a man of power in the capital. This fact would have raised him a host of enemies had it not been for the kindness of his disposition and the urbanity of his manners. When a strapping powerful young fellow treats every one with respectful deference, keeps in the background, and neither by word nor look asserts himself, but, on the contrary, seems to entertain kindly thoughts about every one, it argues such an absence of selfishness that most people are irresistibly attracted to him. Thus, unwittingly, he escaped jealousy and enmity in a palace where both were rife, and, holding in his hands as he did the power to alleviate many of the “ills that flesh is heir to,” he secured a good deal of warm friendship.
Being also an ingenious youth, he devised many little plans for amusing Ranavalona and preventing her mind from dwelling on dangerous memories. Among other things, he induced her to go in for a series of garden parties, and encouraged the people to practise their national games at these gatherings in a systematic way.
What all this was ultimately to lead to he did not know—indeed at first he had no particular end in view save the great one of preventing the Queen from ordering any more of the horrible scenes of bloodshed which he and his friends had so recently witnessed. But as time ran on his ideas became more definite and concentrated. It occurred to him that Ravonino would inevitably venture to attend the garden parties in the hope of again meeting Rafaravavy, and now that the Secretary had avowed himself on the side of the Christians, he felt that through him he might influence her to agree to her lover’s proposal.
Then his plan to effect the rescue of Mamba was gradually matured.
“Ebony,” he exclaimed, suddenly, one afternoon when sitting at his table preparing some villainous compound for the Queen, “go down to the laboratory, boy, and fetch me some gunpowder, sulphur, saltpetre, and charcoal.”
Mark’s laboratory, by the way, contained not only the medicines which chanced to be in the capital at that time, but also a vast collection of miscellaneous articles and substances which, in the opinion of palace officials, could be classed, however remotely, with “doctor’s stuffs.”
“Them stuffs,” remarked Hockins, who sat luxuriously in an arm-chair smoking a short pipe—for he had unfortunately obtained tobacco since arriving at the capital!—“Them stuffs are apt to cause surprisin’ effects w’en properly mixed.”
“Just so. That is my reason for sending for them. I shall create some surprising effects if my old cunning in pyrotechny has not forsaken me. When I was a school-boy, you must know, I was fond of dabbling in fireworks, and it strikes me that I could compound some things that would charm the Queen and astonish the natives.”
“Massa,” asked Ebony, powerful surprise expressed in his sable visage, while Mark spooned large quantities of the ingredients referred to into an earthenware dish, “is dem powders to be took inside arter bein’ well shooken, or rubbed outside?”
“Whichever way you please, Ebony. Would you like to try?”
“No thankee, massa.”
“Now, then, look here,” said Mark, making some pencil notes on a sheet of paper, after arranging several plates in a row. “You and Hockins set to work and mix these in the exact proportions set down on this paper. I’d do it myself, but I’m due at the palace, and you know the Queen does not like to be kept waiting. Stick to the paper, exactly, and here you have an egg-cup, a table-spoon, and a tea-spoon to measure with. Put your pipe out, I advise you, Hockins, before beginning. If Rainiharo should call, tell him he will find me with the Queen. I don’t like that Prime Minister. He’s a prime rascal, I think, and eggs the Queen on when she would probably let things drop. He’s always brooding and pondering, too, as if hatching mischief.”
“If that’s a sign of hatching mischief,” said Hockins, with a short laugh, “the same thing may be said of yourself, doctor, for you’ve done little but brood and ponder for more nor a week past.”
“True, I have been plotting; but many a man plots much without much resulting.”
Hurrying away, Mark found the Secretary waiting for him to act as interpreter, for the Queen understood little or no English.
After the preliminary ceremonial salutations, the young doctor asked if her Majesty would honour the gardens with her presence the following day, hold a grand reception, and make arrangements to remain in Anosy till after dark.
Yes, the Queen was quite ready to do so, but why did her Court Physician make such a proposal? Had he some new surprise in store for her?
“I have,” answered Mark. “In my country we make very grand displays with fire. But I have various little surprises and plots in store, which cannot be properly wrought out unless Ranavalona will consent to go to the gardens privately—that is to say, without public announcement, for that has much to do with the success of my scheme.”
“It shall be done, though it is against my custom,” said the Queen, with a good-natured nod, for she had begun to regard her young physician as an eccentric creature who needed and deserved encouragement in his amusing and harmless fancies.
Immediately after the audience, Mark and his sympathetic interpreter, the Secretary, obtained an interview with Rafaravavy. The doctor began abruptly.
“I am well acquainted with your lover, dear young lady.” At this she pouted a little, blushed terribly, and drew her pretty figure to its full height—which was not great! “And,” continued Mark, “I have been very deeply indebted to him.”
Rafaravavy relaxed a little, and fixed her fine dark eyes on the youth searchingly, but said nothing.
“Now I know,” Mark went on, pretending not to observe the maiden’s varying moods, “that my friend loves you so profoundly—so deeply—that he will risk his life to see you, and if he is caught, you are well aware that in the present state of the Queen’s mind the result would be his death—almost certainly, and perhaps you would die along with him. Therefore, if you get an opportunity soon you should agree to fly with him.”
During the first part of this speech the young girl’s face glowed with evident pleasure, but the last part was unfortunate. It did not suit the temper of one who was brave as she was beautiful.
“I know not, sir,” she said, with flashing eyes, while the little figure drew up again, “what English girls may think or do, but Malagasy women are not afraid to die with those whom they love. Your advice may be kindly meant, but I doubt if it is wise. Besides, I am a servant of my Queen, and owe allegiance to her.”
“Your Queen, mademoiselle, is a servant of the devil,” said Mark, whose indignation was severely stirred. “And, Rafaravavy, do you not profess to be a servant of the Christians’ God—the Almighty? Does not the Book state that it is impossible to serve two masters?”
“Come, come!” cried the Secretary, in a sharp tone, after translating this faithfully, “it is time to go. Follow me!”
Mark’s surprise at this abrupt termination of the interview was great, but as Rafaravavy retired hastily, he had no resource but to follow his friend.
“Why so sharp?” he asked, as they passed along the corridor.
“Because you have said enough,” returned the Secretary, with a quiet smile. “You may understand your own women, no doubt, but not the Malagasy girls as well as I do. When a man has said enough to a woman he should stop and let it simmer. All the rest that he would say she will say to herself—and say it much better, too! But tell me, when do you think Ravoninohitriniony will meet Rafaravavy?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that a true lover is sure to manage a meeting soon—and somehow.”
He was glad to be able to make this indefinite reply; for although he trusted the Secretary, and would have revealed his own affairs fully to him, he felt that he had no right to reveal the affairs of his friend to any one.
Before they reached the palace-yard a loud report was heard. The palace shook as with an earthquake. Loud cries of soldiery were heard without, and Mark’s heart sank with an undefinable dread.
To account for this report we must go back a little. When Hockins and Ebony were left, as we have seen, to mix their “powders,” the former, being a reckless man, forgot to put his pipe out, and Ebony being a careless man, (as regarded himself), did not observe the omission. The consequence was that the seaman kept on puffing and emitting sage reflections to his admiring friend while they mixed their compounds in concert.
“Hand me the powder, Ebony.”
“Das good—ha! ha! das awrful good,” cried the negro, referring to the latest sage reflection—as he pushed across the powder canister, which was a large one.
At that inauspicious moment a spark fell from the pipe! Next moment the door was burst open, the window blown out, Hockins was laid fiat on his back, while Ebony went head-over-heels upon the floor!
Slowly and with a dazed look the seaman raised himself on one elbow and looked round.
“Any—anything of ye left, boy?” he asked, quietly.
“I—I’s not kite sure, ’Ockins,” replied the negro, slowly passing his hand down one of his legs without rising from the floor. “’Ow does it feel wid you?”
“All right, I think,” replied the seaman, rising and presenting a remarkable exhibition of singed beard and frizzled locks, “no bones broke, anyhow.”
At that instant Mark rushed into the smoke-filled room in consternation, followed by the Secretary and a number of soldiers who formed the guard of the palace, and great was their surprise, as well as their satisfaction, to find that the two men had received no damage worth mentioning.
“Well, I am thankful,” exclaimed Mark, beginning to pick up the débris of plates and furniture.
“So am I,” remarked the sailor, “thankful to think that I’ve got it over at last—so easy too!”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“I means, doctor, that I’ve gone the whole round o’ human possibilities now—leastwise I think so—and am alive to tell it! I’ve bin shot, an’ stabbed, an’ drownded—all but—an’ now I’ve bin blow’d up!”
“So’s I, ’Ockins, so you needn’t boast,” remarked Ebony, as he tenderly felt the place where his wool ought to have been, but where only a few irregularly-shaped patches of scrub remained.
We need scarcely say that Mark Breezy did not allow this little contretemps to interfere with his plans.
“You’ll have to work all night, both of you—that’s your punishment for disobeying orders—and without the solace of a pipe too,” said Mark, when order was somewhat restored and work resumed. “The garden party, you know, is fixed for to-morrow, and it’s as much as our heads are worth to disappoint the Queen of her expected amusements. Time, tide, and Ranavalona the First wait for no man! I’ve got to go out for an hour or so. When I return I’ll show you how to make stars and crackers and red rain, etcetera.”
“But I say, Doctor,” asked Hockins, looking up from his work, “where are the cases to hold all this here stuff?”
“Time enough for that when we want ’em. I’ve got some fellows at work on small ones, and there’s a big one that will open the Madagaskite eyes if there’s virtue in saltpetre. It’s made of—ah! here it comes,” he added, as the door opened and two natives carried in a piece of cast-iron pipe about six feet long and four inches in diameter.
“The pistol-barrel of a giant,” exclaimed the seaman.
“A young cannon!” said Ebony. “W’y, massa, you gwine to make a Roman candle ob dat?”
He turned for an answer, but Mark had hastily quitted the house.
Encountering the Secretary in the court-yard, he took his arm and said, “I want your help.”
“Well, you shall have it. But you are so mys—mys—what is it—sterious about your leetil plans, that I fear my help is not useful.”
“Oh! yes, it is, I want you to get me a paper from—I don’t know who—the proper officer, whoever he is, authorising me to take a gang of convicts—four will do—to work for me.”
“Good, you shall have it,” returned the Secretary, with a laugh. “I see you are going to give us big surprises to-morrow.”
“You are right, I am,” said Mark, as the Secretary left him to execute his mission.
Armed with an order, Mark left the palace and hurried through the steep narrow streets of the town, until he reached a piece of road that was being mended by four slaves in long chains. That morning Mark had observed that his friend the crocodile was one of the four. Passing close enough to attract the attention of the poor fellow, he whispered, without stopping, “Mamba, expect me to-morrow.”
This he had said in the native tongue, having by that time acquired a few sentences, of which he made the best and most frequent use possible.
Going to the guard of these slaves, he presented his paper, and said that he should come personally for them early in the morning. Then he returned to the laboratory and assisted his comrades to load the firework cases with various kinds of “fire,” stars, golden rain, etcetera. The young cannon especially was loaded, with a succession of surprises, to the very muzzle, before midnight.
“Suppose he bust!” suggested Ebony, with a solemn visage. “De Queen ob Madigascur be blow’d into middle ob nixt week—hey?”
“I shall take precautions against that, Ebony. In the first place, I’ll have it buried in the earth up to the muzzle, and, in the second place, I’ll not place it too near her Majesty.”
When all was prepared the wearied triumvirate retired to rest, each to dream of the subjects that lay nearest his heart and imagination at the moment. Hockins dreamed of tobacco-pipes and explosions; Mark dreamed of freed slaves, thunder-struck queens, eloping lovers and terrible consequences; and Ebony dreamed of incomprehensible situations, crashing thunderbolts, and unimaginable coruscations of resplendent fire!
