The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar by R. M. Ballantyne (top books to read txt) 📖

two spies would have seen a number of men and women, and even children, hurrying along stealthily in the same direction with themselves. They observed only two or three of these, however, who chanced to fall in their way. They loomed up suddenly like spectres out of the surrounding darkness and as quickly melted into it again. Soa paid no attention to these apparitions, neither did he utter a word to his companion during the journey.

Most of the way he kept a pace or two in advance of his guide, but when they reached the more intricate and broken grounds of the forest, he fell behind and suffered the other to lead.

At last the path wound so much among broken rocks and over steep knolls that their progress became very slow—all the more so that the overshadowing trees rendered the darkness profound. Sometimes they had to clamber up steep places on hands and knees.

Suddenly they were arrested by what seemed to them a faint cry or wail. Listening intently, they perceived that the sounds were musical.

“The Christians are singing,” said the spy in a tone which, low though it was, betrayed a touch of contempt. “They hold their meeting in a cave on the other side of this mound.”

“Remain here, then, till I return to you,” said Soa. “They know you to be a spy. They will not suppose that I have come in such a capacity.”

The man gave vent to a slight laugh at the supposed joke and sat down, while the courtier advanced alone.

On the other side of the mound the sounds which had reached the listeners’ ears as a wail now swelled upon the young man as a well-known hymn in which he had many times joined. A feeling of joy, almost amounting to triumph, filled his heart as he stood there listening. While he listened he observed several indistinct forms glide past him and enter the cave. He crept after them.

A strange sight met his eyes. The cave was so large and high that the single torch which burned in it merely lighted up a portion of the wall against which it was fixed. Even in the immediate neighbourhood of the torch things were more or less indistinct, while all else was shrouded in darkness profound. Here more than a hundred dusky figures were assembled—those furthest from the light melting, as it were, into the darkness, and leaving the imagination to people illimitable space with similar beings.

Soa slipped in, and sat down on a jutting rock near the entrance just as the hymn was closing. Few people observed him. Immediately after, an old man who sat nearest the light rose to pray. Beside him stood our friend Ravonino. On the other side sat a young man with a remarkably intelligent countenance.

With intense earnestness and great simplicity the old man prayed, in the name of Jesus, that the Holy Spirit might bless their meeting and deliver them from the power of their enemies. He also prayed with much emphasis that their enemies might be turned into Christian friends—at which petition a loud “Amen” arose from the worshippers.

“Now Totosy will speak,” said the old man, after a brief pause, turning to the young man with the intelligent countenance. “Let the Word be brought forth.”

“Stop!” cried a man, rising in the midst of the crowd, “it may not be safe to bring out the Word just now.”

“Why not, my son?” asked the old man. “Are not all here to-night our friends?”

“I think not,” returned the man. “As I came along I saw one of the Queen’s spies, who is well-known to me. He was walking with the nephew of our deadly foe Rainiharo, and Soa himself sits there!”

He turned as he spoke, and pointed straight at Soa, who rose at once and advanced to the front.

“My friends,” he said, in a gentle voice, “the last speaker is right. I am here, and I was led here by one of the Queen’s spies. But the spy is not here. He awaits me outside. Let two of your young men guard the entrance of the cave so that our conference may not be overheard.”

Two stalwart youths rose at once and hurried to the outside of this primitive meeting-house, where they mounted guard.

“I have been sent,” continued Soa, “by my uncle, with orders to enter your meeting ‘as a Christian,’ take note of your names, and report them to him!”

There was a tendency on the part of some to shrink into the background on hearing this.

“Now,” continued Soa, “I have come to obey only part of his orders. I have come, as a Christian, to warn you of the dangers that surround you. The Queen is exceeding mad against you. It will be your wisest course to refrain from meeting together just now, and rest content with worshipping in your own homes. But let not this distress you, my friends. The God whom we love is able to turn darkness into light and to make crooked things straight. Neither let it break up our meeting just now. We are safe at present. Let us get out the Word and enjoy the worship of our Saviour while we may.”

There were murmurs of assent and satisfaction at the close of this brief address, and one of the young men, with grave—almost mysterious—looks, took up a small spade and went towards that part of the wall where Ravonino sat. The latter rose to let the young men get at a particular spot, which was marked on the wall with a small—almost imperceptible—red square. Here, after turning up a few spadefuls of earth, he struck upon a stone. Lifting it, he disclosed a hole about a foot square. The old man who presided at the meeting thrust his hands into this hole and gently lifted out a thick volume, which he laid reverently upon a flat rock that formed a sort of natural table in front of him.

This was “the Word” to which reference had been made—an old, much-soiled and worn Malagasy Bible, which had been buried there, so that, whatever might become of its Christian owners, it might escape being found and condemned to the flames, as so many of its fellows had been.

It was a curious Bible this, in more respects than one. In Madagascar the Bible was printed first in sections by the natives, under the superintendence of the missionaries; these sections got scattered, for teaching purposes, and various editions of different sizes were printed at different times. The original owner—if we may not call him fabricator—of the Bible, now referred to as having been dug up in the cave, must, in his desire to possess the Word of God complete, have been at considerable pains to secure every fragment and leaf that came in his way, and then had them all bound together. A clasp of leather and a European hook-and-eye fastened the edges. The different portions, of course, did not fit exactly, and some of the verses necessarily overlapped. Nevertheless, a nearly complete and substantial Bible was the result of his labours. See Note 1.

Taking up the treasured book with great care, the young man before mentioned by the name of Totosy opened it and selected a text. “Fear not, little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

From this he preached an admirable sermon, full of hope and consolation to men and women situated as his companions were at that time, and holding up Jesus not only as the deliverer of the world from sin but from fear of physical death. Strengthening of this sort, truly, was much-needed, for during the previous persecutions of 1837 and 1849 Queen Ranavalona had given terrible evidence of her fierce and relentless nature, so that Christians were now well aware of what they had to expect if another cruel fit came upon her.

The sermon finished, another hymn was sung, followed by a prayer, after which, before finally breaking up and dispersing, the worshippers collected in various groups; and exclamations of surprise, joy, and fervent thanksgiving were heard, now and again, when friends who had parted as enemies on account of religious differences unexpectedly met as brothers in the Lord.

It has ever been a result of persecution that the persecuted cause has made progress—naturally so, for trial and suffering winnow out the chaff and leave the good seed to flourish with increased vigour. Few false professors attended those midnight meetings, which were so full of joy and danger, and none of these ever got the length of Ranavalona’s fiery stakes or the fearful “rock of hurling.”

For fully a quarter of a century, (from 1836 to 1861), did the persecution of the native Christians last in Madagascar. During most of that dark period Queen Ranavalona the First endeavoured, by cruel prohibitive laws, torture, and death, to stamp out the love of Christ from her dominions. Through most of that period she tried to prevent her people from meeting for worship, praying to God in the name of Christ, or reading the Scriptures or any other Christian book, and those who disobeyed her did so at the risk of losing property, liberty, or life. Nevertheless, in spite of this, worship was kept up in secret—in secluded villages, in recesses of the forest, in caves, even in rice-holes; the Word was read, faithful natives preached, and Baptism and the Lord’s Supper were continuously observed. Small portions of Scripture—even leaves—were carefully treasured and passed from hand to hand until “these calamities” were past; and now, at the present time, the Church in Madagascar is ten times stronger than ever it was before!

Of course active persecution was not maintained throughout the whole period of twenty-five years. The volcano smouldered at times. For brief periods it almost seemed as if about to become extinct, but at intervals it burst forth with renewed violence. At the time of which we write, (1857), there were mutterings of the volcano, and portents in the air which filled the persecuted ones, and those who loved them, with grave anxiety.

In a dark corner of the cavern Soa and Ravonino stood apart, after the service was over, and conversed in subdued tones.

“Do you think the lives of my comrades are in danger?” asked the latter, anxiously.

“It is difficult to answer that,” replied Soa. “The Queen fears to offend the English by putting European subjects to death; but she is in a savage mood just now, and your friends have intermeddled with matters that they would have been wise to let alone. Banishment is more likely to be their fate, but that will be almost equal to death.”

“How so?” asked Ravonino.

“Because Ranavalona will probably treat them as she treated the Europeans who lately tried to overthrow her government. She sent them down to the coast with orders to their conductors to keep them so long on the way—especially on the unhealthy fever-stricken parts of the route—that sickness might have time to kill them.”

“And was the plan successful?”

“Not quite, for the white people turned out to be tough. They managed to get away from our island alive, but in a state of health, I believe, that will very likely prevent them from ever wishing to return!”

“I have much love for these men,” said Ravonino, after a pause. “You have influence with Rainiharo. Can you not befriend them?”

“I shall have little influence now with my uncle,” returned Soa, sadly, “for I am a Christian, and he will soon discover that. But I will help them if I can—for your sake.”

“And Rafaravavy,” said Ravonino, in a lower voice, “do you think she can be induced to fly? If she were brought to me here, I should have little difficulty in taking her to a place of safety.”

“The difficulties in your way are greater than you suppose,” said Soa. “The Queen’s spies and soldiers are out all over the land. Even now, were it not that I am your friend and brother in Jesus, you