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The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar Part 18

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Reaching a sequestered dell in a few minutes, Ravonino suddenly stopped and turned round with a calm air of satisfaction.

"Well, dis am de most awrful supprise I'se had since my mudder give me my fust wollopin'."

The expression on the negro's face rendered the remark needless.

"It was well done," said the guide, seating himself on the trunk of a fallen tree.

"A'most too well done!" returned Hockins, with a touch of sarcasm.



"Do you know," continued the guide gravely, "I've had a narrow escape?

The two men you saw laughing at the door are the very men we have been trying to avoid,--the Queen's spies,--whom I have long known, and who would certainly have discovered me in spite of my shaved and stained face if we had come to talk to each other in the same room. Luckily my friend is smart as well as true. He knew my voice at once. To have talked with me, or warned me, or let me enter his house, would have been fatal. His only resource lay in thras.h.i.+ng me off his premises--as you have seen. How he will explain matters to the spies I know not, but I can trust him for that."

"Das most awrful clebber!" exclaimed Ebony, his every feature broadening with delight at the success of the ruse.

"But what are we to do now?" asked Mark.

"Wait till he comes here. He told me to wait."

"What! Told you?"

"Ay--you don't suppose he let his tongue lie idle while he was using his stick. Of course I was myself taken aback at first when he seized me by the throat, but two or three muttered words in the midst of his anger opened my eyes, and I ran at once. All the way as he ran after and belaboured me he was giving me important information in furious tones!

The spies are only staying with him for a short rest. When they are gone he will come and find us here."

"He's a born actor," said Hockins.

"True--and he acted some of his blows heavier than I could have wished, in his anxiety to impress his information on me!" said the guide.

"What is his name?" asked Mark.

"Fisatra. He is named after a great chief who lived in this district not long ago.--But here he comes to speak for himself."

At that moment a tall, fine-looking man, of very dark complexion, and clad in the ample folds of a beautiful lamba, approached them. His whole countenance was wrinkled with the lines of fun, and his brilliant teeth glistened as he smilingly held out his hand to the Englishmen, and asked them to accept his hospitality.

As they pa.s.sed into the house they saw two slave-girls pounding rice in a large wooden mortar, with two enormous wooden pestles, while the savoury steam that arose from some invisible kitchen served to put a finer edge on their already sharpened appet.i.tes.

When the mats were spread, and the feast was being enjoyed, Ravonino asked the host how he had got rid of the spies, and how he managed to explain his conduct without raising their suspicions.

"Nothing easier," said Fisatra, while his broad shoulders heaved with an inward chuckle. "You know that I used to be feared in the palace in days gone bye because of my violent nature, and the way in which I used to knock about the furniture and make the household slaves--sometimes the household troops--scurry when I was in a rage. Yet I'm sure you know very well, (he looked sheepishly innocent here), that I never was an angry man--at least not a cruel one. But that's all changed. I am one of _your_ set now, though no one suspects it. Since I met Mr Ellis--"

"Is Mr Ellis here just now?" interrupted Ravonino, anxiously.

"Not now," answered Fisatra; "he departed some weeks ago, but I believe has not yet left the coast. And now there is no check on the Queen's violence. Well, as I was about to say, I took to the old habit in pretence, as you have seen, and when I returned from thras.h.i.+ng you I went storming through the house, kicking about the pots and pans, and foaming at the mouth in such a way that I not only stopped the spies laughing, but put them in fear of their lives."

Again the fun-wrinkles corrugated the visage of Fisatra, and his mighty shoulders heaved with internal explosions.

"After I had calmed down a bit," he continued, "the spies ventured to ask timidly if that was a great enemy that I had beaten. This set me into, a worse pa.s.sion than ever. `Enemy?' I shouted `no--no--not an enemy--he--he's a--a--' but I got no further than that, for I didn't know what to say, and I wouldn't lie, so I took to foaming and stamping again! At last I said, `Don't speak to me about him--excuse me, my friends; I can't stand it--and--and the rice is nearly ready. You must be hungry!' I said this with a look and tone as if another fit was coming on. They excused themselves. `No,' they said, `we are not hungry, and we have yet far to go this day before the sun descends. The Queen's orders will not wait.' And off they went, glad to get out of my way. Truly, if it is sinful to get in a rage, it is useful sometimes to act it! So now, my friends, eat--eat--while you have the chance, and fear not the return of the spies!"

"Tell me," said the guide, anxiously, "are you sure that Rafaravavy is still safe?"

"She is still safe--but no one knows how long that may be, for she is fearless, and utters the forbidden prayers even in the presence of the Queen. If it had not been for the love that Ranavalona bears her, she would have been tossed from the `rock of hurling' long ago."

"Faithful, even unto death," said the guide, with a look and tone in which pathos and triumph were strangely blended.

"She has not yet been tried to that extent, but if she is, G.o.d will enable her to stand firm," said Fisatra, whose grave child-like sincerity, when talking of religious subjects, was not less impulsively honest and natural than were the outbursts of his fun when another humour stirred his feelings.

The "rock" to which he alluded was a frightful precipice at one side of the city from which criminals were usually hurled--a spot which is hallowed by the blood of many Christian martyrs who perished there during the long reign of that tyrant queen Ranavalona.

"Has then the queen forbidden the Christians to pray?" asked Ravonino.

"Have you not heard?--but of course you have not, being an outlaw and having only just returned. Recently a very bad fit has come over the Queen. You know that for some years past there have been a few French people living in Antananarivo, who by their knowledge and skill in mechanics and mercantile matters have made themselves useful to our government. These men lately tried to dethrone the Queen, on pretence of delivering the country from her cruelties, and establis.h.i.+ng a `French Protectorate.' They gained over some of our chief men, collected in one of their houses a large quant.i.ty of weapons and ammunition, and had even fixed the night when the palace was to be invaded, the Queen seized, and the Protectorate set up. Fortunately the plot came to my knowledge. I say fortunately, because a bad queen is better than a French Protectorate, for the first will die, but the latter might never end!

Well, I at once informed the Queen, who had the conspirators seized and banished from the country for ever. Among them were a Roman Catholic lady and two Jesuits. The anger of the Queen was of course very great, and she has had, as I have said, a very bad fit against the Christians; for, as these unprincipled conspirators have the name though none of the reality of Christians, she naturally mixed us all up together--and I know not what the end will be, but I have much fear, because the Queen is very angry."

"Has she done nothing yet?" asked Ravonino.

"Nothing--except threaten and fume. But when the black cloud is overhead, and muttering thunder is heard, one knows too well what to expect--especially when one has been exposed to the storm in former years."

"The sun is s.h.i.+ning behind the black cloud and it will break through when the Master wills," said Laihova, joining in the conversation for the first time that evening, and looking earnestly at his friend Ravonino, as if the words were meant for his ear alone--as indeed they were.

"Thanks, thanks, my friend, for the comforting words," said Ravonino, "and I take shame to myself that my faith is so weak."

"You will spend the night with me?" said their host to the guide.

"No, Fisatra, I dare not delay. Even now I may be too late. I will journey all night."

Ravonino rose quickly and prepared to go. The others followed his example, and soon the party was proceeding rapidly along the high-road towards the capital, under a cloudless sky and a galaxy of twinkling stars.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

ARRIVAL AT THE CAPITAL--QUEEN RANAVALONA'S TROUBLES AND PERPLEXITIES.

Towards sunrise on the following morning our travellers, on pa.s.sing out of a rather dense piece of plantation which crowned the brow of a low hill, came in sight of the capital--Antananarivo. It was still in the far distance, with many a rice-field and garden between, but distinctly visible, for it occupies the summit and slopes of a considerable hill.

"Here, then, through the goodness of G.o.d, we have reached the end of our journey," said Ravonino, halting, "and I must remain behind, while you, my friends, push on to the city. Fain would I go with you, but that would ruin all, for I am a known and marked man. Laihova will now guide you, and tell you what to do. I have just one word for you at parting.

Be peaceful, do not take offence. Interfere not with our customs. Use not the fist, and commit your way to G.o.d."

The guide looked so pointedly at Ebony while he spoke that that sable comrade could not help noticing it.

"What you looks so hard at me for, hey?" demanded the negro.

"Because you are somewhat hot-tempered and apt to get people into sc.r.a.pes," answered Ravonino, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

"_Me_ 'ot-tempered!" exclaimed Ebony, in surprise, with an appealing glance at his comrades. "I'd knock you down, Ravonino, for sayin' dat, only it would be like as if what you say's true! Ob all de n.i.g.g.e.rs on 'art' I's de meekest, quietest--jest like a babby; why, my moder always said so, an' surely _she_ ought to know!"

"No doubt she knew, whatever she said," observed Hockins, with a laugh.

"We will be careful," said Mark. "But are your people, then, so particular, that we should require this caution?"

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The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar Part 18 summary

You're reading The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): R. M. Ballantyne. Already has 496 views.

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