“Where is the God she prays to that he does not save her now?” whispered some. Others held their peace, but laid these things to heart.
While the poor creature was thus engaged, the two executioners, without warning, thrust their spears deep into her body. It was the custom of these men to plunge the spears into the loins of their victims on each side of the back-bone in such a position that they did not produce immediate death, but allowed the martyrs to tumble into the ditch and writhe there in agony for some time with the spears still sticking in them. Happily, in the case of Rasalama, the thrusts were—either intentionally or accidentally—more effective than usual. After a very brief struggle, her happy soul was set free to be “for ever with the Lord.”
In that ditch her poor mangled body was left to be devoured by the wild dogs that frequent all places in Madagascar where criminals suffer. See Note 2.
“Oh, God!” exclaimed Mark, unable to repress a groan. “Let us quit this accursed spot.”
“Stay, sir, stay,” whispered the sailor at his elbow, “you forget Mamba. More are comin’.”
More martyrs were indeed coming, as the singing of hymns proved.
Close on the heels of Rasalama, a band of nine other Christians were carried to the place of execution, each with his feet and hands tied together and slung on a pole, the ends of which were borne by two men. Straw had been stuffed into their mouths to prevent praying or singing, but several of them, managing to get rid of the straw, burst into the triumphal songs which had attracted the attention of our seaman.
Arrived at the ditch, the victims were asked if they would give up praying to Jesus. In every case the answer was a decided “No!” They were then thrust into the ditch, forced down on their knees, and made to bend forward. While this was being done, the shuddering friends of Mamba perceived that he was not among the martyrs. One by one each unfortunate was stabbed in the loins, close on either side of the back-bone, but not one was terrified into recanting, although by so doing he might have been restored at once to life and liberty. The truth of that word, “As thy days thy strength shall be,” was clearly and wonderfully proved in the case of these sufferers. After all had fallen, their heads were cut off and placed in a row on the edge of the ditch. Five of the nine belonged to one family.
One man who had been reserved to the last, for some reason or other that was net explained, was led to the brow of the precipice, and the same question was put to him that had been put to his fellow-martyrs. From the spot on which he stood he could look down into the awful gulf, a sheer descent of sixty feet first to a place where a ledge projected, and then, a further descent of still greater depth to the bottom, where the ground was covered with rocks and débris from the cliffs.
Unfaltering in courage and allegiance to the Master, his “No!” was distinct and decisive. Next moment he was hurled over. With terrific force he struck the ledge, and it must have been a lifeless body that was finally shattered on the plain below.