Turning to the Secretary who had introduced the party, Ranavalona spoke to him a few words. When she had finished, the Secretary turned to Mark, whom he at once recognised as the chief and spokesman of the trio.
“Queen Ranavalona bid me ask where you comes from,” he said.
To which Mark replied that they came from England, that they were all English subjects, though one was an African by descent.
“I have heard,” continued the Queen, through her interpreter, “that you have been shipwrecked, that one of your number is a Maker of Medicine, and that you helped one of my people—even saved his life—soon after your arrival in my country. Is that so?”
Mark explained that they had not been shipwrecked, but had been left on shore, and obliged to fly from the natives of the coast; that he was indeed a maker of medicine, though his training had not been quite completed when he left England, and that he had rendered a trifling service to an unfortunate man who had slipped in climbing a cliff, but he could hardly be said to have saved the man’s life.
While he was speaking, Mark observed that his friend Ravèlo stood close to the Queen’s chair, in front of a group of officers, from which circumstance he concluded that he must be a man of some note, and that it was he who had procured the deliverance of himself and his friends from prison.
“Tell the young Maker of Medicine,” said the Queen, in a loud voice, so that all the Court might hear, “that Europeans have behaved very ill here of late, so ill that they had to be banished from my country; for I, Ranavalona, permit no one, whether his face be black, brown, or white, to meddle with my government. They fancied, I suppose, that because I am a woman I am weak and ignorant, and unable to rule! They have now found their mistake, and Christians shall not again be permitted to dwell in my country. But I am Ranavalona, and I will do what I please. If I choose to make an exception I will do it. If any one thinks to oppose my will he shall die. The man whose life was saved by this young Maker of Medicine is my son Rakota—my beloved son. Is it not so?”
The Queen looked round as she spoke, and the man whom we have hitherto styled Ravèlo bent his head and replied, “It is so,” whereupon there were murmurs of surprise and approval among the courtiers.
“Now,” continued the Queen, “as I am grateful, and as I want a physician at Court just now, I appoint this young Maker of Medicine to that post, and I appoint his black companion to be his servant. Do you all hear that?”
All the courtiers made murmurs of assent.