“I pity the Queen of Madagascar if that’s her only food,” said Hughes, rolling a cigarette.
“Oh, there is plenty other. If you choose to take a shot-gun to-morrow you will find pintado, pigeons, parrots, ducks and geese abundant, only beware of the caiman, for the rivers literally swarm with them. There are plenty of fowls, and singularly enough one of the objects of veneration is a white cock. In the mythology of the country there exists a great giant powerful for evil, called ‘Denafil,’ and all white cocks are sacred to him.”
“You seem to know the country, senhor?” asked the noble.
“I passed nearly twelve months there,” replied the missionary.
“And promised to give us a history of your life among the Hovas. What better time than the present? That cabin is stifling, and I am sure none of us wish to go below,” said Isabel, in her silvery and persuasive tones, Dom Maxara being engaged with his cigarette, and Hughes in wishing the starlight was even brighter than it actually was, for the folds of the mantilla looked dim and indistinct under the feeble light.
The missionary was silent for a few minutes as if recalling his recollections.
“I cannot say I will fulfil my promise with pleasure, but I will fulfil it,” he replied. “I have already mentioned whence we sailed and how we reached this bay. The first night we landed we encamped on the banks of this very river, which is called the ‘Onglaki,’ the vessel that brought us sailing for Tamatavé. We were four missionaries under the guidance of one of our brethren, who had lately come from England, and who was named Willis.
“He had been in the island before, and, as we afterwards found, his object was partly political. The queen, by her terrible cruelties, had alienated the love of her subjects, and her son, Prince Rakolo, had allied himself with a Frenchman named Lambert, who had gone to France to solicit protection and assistance in his efforts to dethrone the queen.
“The Christian religion was once spread throughout the land; but now it is almost extinct, and the few Europeans left lead a life nearly, if not quite, as dissolute as the natives. Our chief’s object was to divulge and counteract the policy of the French and of Prince Rakolo; ours was to establish a mission among the Hovas at Tamanarivo. The country is rich, abounding with game of many kinds, and free from noxious animals; we journeyed along good roads towards the capital, sojourning in many villages, and carrying out our work as best we could. It is a beautiful country,” continued the Missionary; “the low lands produce a tree called by the Malgache Bavinala, with bunches of long leaves looking like a lady’s fan. This tree is very useful, for of its wood houses, plates, spoons are made; of its fibres, cloth, and a kind of linen; while its seeds give oil, and its sap when the tree is tapped produces a pleasant drink. The sagontin, or sago-tree, abounds on the plains; sandal wood and ebony are plentiful; but the tree which struck me most was the ravensara, the nuts and leaves of which perfume the air around, and from which a delicious scent is distilled. Oxen, fowls, and sheep abound; rice is cultivated, and the sugar-cane grows wild.”
“And the people?” asked Isabel.