The villagers and their guests were still in the midst of the feast, and the arrack had not yet begun to stimulate1 their imaginations, so that the deeds of their ancestors—which formed the chief subject of conversation—were still being recounted with some regard to modesty2 and truth, when Voalavo said to the assemblage, with a beaming countenance3, that he had a treat in store for them.
“You are all fond of music,” he said. “Who does not know that the Malagasy are good singers? The songs you have already sung have delighted my ears, and the clapping of your hands has been in the best of time; but you shall soon have music such as the idols4 would enjoy, I have no doubt, when in a merry mood.”
The chief uttered the last sentence with an air of good-natured contempt, for he was what we may style an unbeliever in all gods—not an uncommon5 state of mind in men of superior intelligence when they think seriously of the debasing absurdities6 of idolatry.
“Now, my friend,” he said, turning to John Hockins, with an air and tone of command, “let them hear the little pipe on which you—you—tootle-ootle.”
Hockins had much ado to keep his gravity as he drew out the flageolet, and every eye was instantly fixed7 on him in glaring expectancy8.
It need hardly be said that the effect of the sweet instrument was very powerful, and it is probable that the party of admirers might have taxed the seaman’s powers of performance to the uttermost, if they had not been suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a tall wild-looking man, who was evidently in a state of tremendous excitement.
He wore the usual cloth round the loins, and the lamba, which was thrown like a Scottish chieftain’s plaid over his left shoulder—but these garments bore evidence of rough usage and hard travel. The man was not a stranger, for, as he suddenly stood panting vehemently9 in the midst of the party, with his long arms outstretched, Voalavo addressed him in tones of surprise.
“Razafil!” he exclaimed. “Glad are we to see the Bard10 of Imarina. Your coming is well-timed. We are feasting, and singing, and story-telling. Words from the poet will be welcome.”
Notwithstanding the friendly reception thus accorded to the Bard of Imarina, it was evident that the words were thrown away upon him, for he continued for some time to glare and pant while perspiration11 rolled down his face, and it became clear to every one that something was wrong with him. At last he spoke12 in a kind of low singing tone which harmonised with his appearance—
“Vain man! Observ’st thou not the dead?
The morning warmth from them has fled,
Though near, they meet fond friends no more.”
He paused and looked wildly yet tremblingly round, as if in search of some one, but took no notice of his friends, many of whom were present at the gathering15. Then he continued in the same strain—
“A gate of entrance to the tomb we see,
But a departure thence there ne’er shall be.
The living waves his signal high,
But where’s the loved one’s fond reply?
“Vain man! observ’st thou not the dead?
No more their homeward path they tread.
The freeman lost may ransom’d be,
By silver’s magic power set free;
But, once the deadly hand has laid them low,
No voice can move them, for they cease to know.
Regardless of our love they lie;
Unknown the friends that o’er them sigh;
Oh! where are those thus doom’d to die?”
Again the poor man paused, and gasped17 as if some terrible agony were rending18 his bosom19, yet no tear moistened his eyes, from which there seemed to gleam the wild light of insanity20. His appearance and words had sunk like a pall21 upon the festive22 party, but no one spoke or moved. It was as if they were spell-bound. Once more the poet spoke, and this time in tones of deepest pathos—
To be with Jesus they have fled,
They sang the praises of His name;
Now, joy unspeakable, they tread the shore
Whence ransom’d sinners shall depart no more.
Our trembling, riven hearts will cry—
‘Why, why were those thus doom’d to die?’”
The man ceased; his arms fell listlessly by his side, and his chin sank on his breast.
“I fear much,” whispered Ravonino to Mark, “that I understand but too well what he means.”
Without waiting for a reply the guide rose. Going up to Razafil he laid his hand gently on his arm, and said—
“My brother!”
The bard looked at him earnestly for a few seconds, then, grasped him by the wrist as with a grip of iron.
“Ravoninohitriniony,” he said, fiercely, “my little one is dead! She is gone! They took her—a mere27 child—they tortured her, but she would not yield. Hear what I say. You knew her well—the soft one; the tender one, who was always so pliable28, so unselfish, so easily led,—she would not yield! They led her to the place of execution; they tied her to a stake and kindled29 the fire about her beautiful limbs,—my little child, Raniva! I saw the skin upon her flesh blacken and crack and blaze. But she sang! sang loud and clear! I would have rushed into the fire to her but they held me back—four strong men held me! When she was consumed they led me away to the torture—but I burst from them—escaped—I know not how—I care not! for my little one is lost!—lost!—”
“Nay, Razafil—not lost!” said Ravonino, in a quiet but firm tone, for he saw the gleam increasing in the poor father’s eyes. “Did you not say just now that she is singing with joy unspeakable the praises of His name?”
The words were fitly spoken. The father’s agonised soul was quieted, but as quietness partly returned to him, a new expression appeared on his countenance.
“Listen,” he said, still holding the guide’s wrist in his powerful grasp. “I go to my poor wife. She is safe in the cave with Réni-Mamba—”
“Not in the cave you think of,” interrupted the guide, explaining the change of abode30 which had been recently made by the Christian31 fugitives33.
“No matter,” returned the bard, “I know all the caves, and can find the one she has gone to. But now I must warn you—warn all of you who are Christians34,” he added, with emphasis, looking round upon the natives, “if there be any such among you—that Queen Ranavalona has got one of her bad fits again. She has ordered that no one is to sing or pray to Jesus, or to read the Word of God, on pain of imprisonment35, death, or being sold into slavery. Many have been sold already, and some have died. Things would have been even worse, for the English missionary36 has left Antananarivo, but Prince Rakota remains37 our friend. Still, he cannot save every one. He could not save my Raniva! Now,” he added, turning to the guide abruptly38, as if anxious to keep his mind from dwelling39 on his terrible bereavement40, “you must go to Antananarivo with all haste if you would save Rafaravavy, for she is in great danger.”
The bard had touched a cord in Ravonino’s breast which vibrated sensitively.
“She has not confessed? She is not in prison?” he asked, quickly, with emotion which was too powerful to be entirely41 suppressed.
“As to confessing,” returned Razafil, “there is no need for her to do that, for it is well-known that she is a Christian; but the queen is fond of her and wishes to spare her. Nevertheless, she is so exceeding mad against us just now, that there is no saying when her forbearance may come to an end. If you would save Rafaravavy, you must get her out of the palace without delay.”
The guide did not reply for a few seconds. It was evident, from the knitted brows and the pallor of his countenance, that he was endeavouring to make up his mind to some course of action. Suddenly the frown passed from his brow, his countenance became perfectly42 calm, and his eyes closed.
“He is speaking with God,” whispered Laihova to one who sat near him.
Laihova may have been right. If so, the prayer was a very brief one, for the guide turned almost immediately to Voalavo and explained that in the circumstances it was absolutely necessary for him and his comrades to depart at once for the capital.
The chief, being a sympathetic as well as a hilarious43 soul, made no objection, but rather urged him to make haste.
Ravonino then turned to his white companions, who could, of course, only guess at the meaning of all that had been said, and explained to them the whole matter. They rose at once, and, having no preparations to make, professed44 to be ready to start there and then.
Now, while they were yet speaking, the festive party received another surprise, or alarm, which was even more exciting than the previous one.
A young man suddenly burst into the village with the announcement that a body of the Queen’s soldiers were close at hand. They had been sent off in pursuit of Razafil, with directions to scour45 the country, and bring in as many Christian fugitives as possible, and he—the young man—being a fast runner, had been sent in advance by some friends of the bard to warn him of his danger.
“I would not try to avoid them if I stood alone,” said Razafil, softly. “Should I shrink from dying for Jesus, after seeing my Raniva go to Him in a chariot of fire? But I stand not alone. My wife claims my support, and my little boy.”
While he was speaking, it was seen that a few of the hunters, as well as one or two inhabitants of the village, rose quietly and left the place. These were either professing46 or suspected Christians, who were anxious to make their escape from the danger that threatened.
After bidding Voalavo farewell, the guide and his friends left the village and struck into the woods. They were accompanied by the bard a short distance, until a point was reached where their routes diverged47, and here, after a few words of brotherly sympathy and counsel from Ravonino, the bereaved49 man went on his solitary50 way, and the others directed their course towards the capital.
“Poor man,” said Ebony, who looked over his shoulder with profound sorrow in his earnest eyes as long as the tall figure of the bard was in sight, “I’s most awrful sorry for ’im. Why don’t dey hang Randalvalona, or shot ’er?”
“History teaches that it’s not always so easy as one might think to get rid of objectionable queens in that way,” said Mark.
“Hm! I’d teach history suffin diff’rent if I had my way,” returned the negro.
“But surely the great men around her might have some sort o’ power to clap a stopper on ’er?” said Hockins.
“They have some power, but not much,” returned the guide, “for Ranavalona is a passionate51, self-willed, cruel woman; and when such a woman happens to be a despotic queen, nothing short of a revolution, or her death, can save the country. She usurped52 the throne in 1829, we have now reached 1857, so she has been reigning53 more than twenty-seven years, and a bitter reign54 it has been. There have been many persecutions of the Christians since it began. Hundreds have been slain56; thousands have been sold into slavery; many more have been banished57 to pestilential districts, where disease has laid them low. God grant that this mad fit may not be the forerunner58 of another burst of cruelty.”
“But do you really think,” said Mark, “that Rafaravavy is in great danger? Did not the bard say that she is a favourite with the queen?”
“That is some security, but not much, for Ranavalona is changeable as well as cruel. But my dear one is in the hands of God. No harm can come to her unless He permits. Nevertheless, our God works not by miracles but by means, therefore it is my business, having the opportunity given me, to hasten to her rescue.”
“And it is mine to help you,” said Mark, an impulse of youthful enthusiasm and sympathy swelling59 his heart as his mind suddenly reverted60 to the morning when he left England, and said his last good-bye to the fair one with the golden hair and the rosebud61 mouth and “such lovely blue eyes!”
“But how,” he continued, “shall we best aid you in this matter?”
“That question I cannot answer immediately. When we draw near to the capital and hear what is going on I shall be able to form a plan. What we have to do just now is to travel fast. You are strong stout62 men, all of you. Do you think you can walk fast and far with little rest or sleep, and without breaking down?”
“I think so,” answered Mark, modestly.
“I’s cock-sure ob it,” said Ebony, “if we’s allowed lots o’ grub.”
“I’m not quite so sure,” said Hockins; “you must remember I’ve only got sea-legs on—but I’ll try.”
And he did try, and so did the others; with such success, too, that before the sun set that evening they had penetrated63 into the very heart of the mountain range which runs through the centre of the island.
There had not been much conversation on the way, for hill-climbing all day at top-speed is not compatible with small talk. Besides, the obvious anxiety of Ravonino rendered his companions less inclined than usual to engage in desultory64 remarks. Nevertheless there were occasions—during momentary65 halts to recover breath, or when clear bubbling springs tempted66 them to drink—when the prolonged silence was broken.
“Putty stiff work dis hill-climbin’, massa,” said Ebony, during one of these brief halts, as he wiped the perspiration from his sable67 brow with the back of his hand. “Lucky I’s used to it.”
“Used to it?” repeated Mark.
“Yes. Di’n’t I tell you I was born an’ raised among de Andes in Sout’ Ameriky?”
“To be sure, I forgot that, but there must be a considerable difference between the two mountain ranges.”
“Das troo, massa, but de diff’rence don’t make much diff’rence to de legs. You see, wild rugged68 ground much de same wheder de mountains rise a few t’ousand foot, like dese, or poke13 der snow-topped heads troo de clouds right away up into de blue sky, like de Andes. Rugged ground is rugged ground, an’ hard on de legs all de same, an’ dis am rugged ’nuff even for ’Ockins!”
The negro opened his huge mouth in an amiable69 laugh at his companion, who had taken advantage of the brief halt to give a hearty70 rub to his colossal71 limbs.
“Rugged enough it is, no doubt,” said the sailor, gravely, “an’ it makes my sea-legs raither stiffish. But never you fear, Ebony; they’re tough, an’ will last as long as yours, anyhow.”
“You’s right, ’Ockins. Dey’ll last longer dan mine by eight or ten hinches—if not more.”
“Your jokes are small, Ebony, which is more than can be said for your mouth. Shut it, man, or some of us’ll go tumblin’ into it by accident.”
While these two were indulging their little pleasantries, the guide and his friend Laihova had gone to the top of a neighbouring bluff72 to consult as to the best route to adopt in the present troubled state of the country.
The view from the commanding height on which they stood was indeed marked by a rugged grandeur73 which might have done credit even to the giant Andes themselves, and offered a variety of routes, or rather obstructions74 to routes, which might well perplex men who were eager to cross country swiftly.
The point which they had reached, and much of the range they had crossed, was formed of basalt in various stages of decomposition75; but in the country before them, for several miles in advance, huge masses of granite76 and fragments of quartz77 indicated a change in the nature of the prevailing78 rock. The position of these masses, as well as their size, gave a wild Titanic79 aspect to much of the scenery.
Many enormous stones projected out of the ground at various angles. One of these stood out horizontally to the distance of between twenty and thirty feet, forming a cave under it, in which it was evident, from sundry80 suggestive appearances, that wayfarers81 were accustomed to lodge82. The neighbourhood of this cave formed one of the most romantic and picturesque83 scenes they had yet seen. It was a dark narrow vale, in many places not less than five hundred feet deep, with a considerable stream at the bottom, which brawled84 among detached and shattered rocks, or was partly lost to view in its meanderings among the beautiful green shrubs85 which clothed its banks. Various kinds of birds twittered among the bushes, and wherever water expanded in the form of pond or lakelet numerous waterfowl sported on the surface.
“A glorious prospect86!” exclaimed Mark, as he joined the guide and his friend, “and a splendid place, I should think, for fugitives from persecution55.”
He pointed87, as he spoke, to the scene on his right, where masses of rock varying from thirty to fifty feet in length projected from the side of the ravine. On the top of these rested other masses in a position that seemed to threaten destruction to all who ventured beneath them.
“The caves of this region,” said the guide, “have served to shelter the Christians many a time. It looks as if God had provided these blocks of granite for this very purpose, for the caverns88 which extend beneath them are dark and intricate, having many entrances, and being lighted in some places by openings between the blocks, while in other places they are profoundly dark and of unknown extent. See also, if you look at the stream below, they form a splendid bridge. At this distance they do not seem large, but some of these blocks are not less than a hundred feet long. This whole region is infested89 by robbers, but the recent act of the Queen in sending troops out to scour the country for fugitive32 Christians seems to have driven them away. But if they had been here we should have had little to fear, for robbers are not usually fond of attacking even small parties of men who are well able to defend themselves; besides, they do not injure the outlawed90 Christians much. Perhaps they have a sort of fellow-feeling for us!”
At this point Laihova spoke a few words to the guide in the native tongue. The latter nodded approval, and turning to Mark, said—
“We have been consulting about our route. There are two roads—one rugged, round-about, and safe, which would take us a longer time, however, to reach the capital than the other, which is the regular beaten path, through the villages. But this latter way lays us open to the danger of meeting with soldiers, and of my being captured along with my friend Laihova. There would be no danger to you and your friends, for you are strangers.”
“Ravonino,” said Mark, quickly, “do what is best for rescuing Rafaravavy. We have no will but yours. We will follow wherever you choose to lead.”
A quiet look of satisfaction played on the guide’s features as he turned to his friend.
“What says Laihova? The Englishmen are willing to do whatever we wish.”
“Let us go by the villages. Let us push on by night as well as by day,” said Laihova. “Time flies! Ranavalona is mad! Rafaravavy is in danger!”
It was finally arranged that, at this place, which was considerably91 to the south of Antananarivo, they should diverge48 to the right, so as to avoid certain points of danger, and arrive ultimately at the eastern side of the capital.
Having settled this point, the three men rejoined their comrades, who were still conversing92 amicably93 beside the spring. Thereafter they all descended94 into the valley by a steep and rugged pathway.
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1
stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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5
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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6
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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7
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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8
expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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13
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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14
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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pliable
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| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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39
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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40
bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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41
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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43
hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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44
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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45
scour
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| v.搜索；擦，洗，腹泻，冲刷 | |
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46
professing
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| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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47
diverged
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| 分开( diverge的过去式和过去分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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48
diverge
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| v.分叉，分歧，离题，使...岔开，使转向 | |
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49
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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50
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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51
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forerunner
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| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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rosebud
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| n.蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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obstructions
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| n.障碍物( obstruction的名词复数 )；阻碍物；阻碍；阻挠 | |
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decomposition
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| n. 分解, 腐烂, 崩溃 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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quartz
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| n.石英 | |
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prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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brawled
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| 打架，争吵( brawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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infested
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| adj.为患的，大批滋生的（常与with搭配）v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 )；遍布于 | |
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outlawed
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| 宣布…为不合法（outlaw的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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