“Oh! no, no!” he exclaimed, in a tone of agony, “I am not innocent. I am guilty! guilty! very wicked! I have denied Thee, dear Lord, by my looks, though not with my lips! Forgive me, O God!” Then, turning quickly to the officers of justice, “Here—put on the chains again. I am a praying man! I love the Lord Jesus. He will save you as well as me if you will come to Him!”
As this was spoken in the native language our Englishmen did not understand it, but they had little difficulty in guessing the drift of it when they saw the officers replace the chains and lead Mamba back to prison, where the last words the jailor heard as he left him were, “Mother, mother! Ramatoa! I shall never more see your dear faces in this life—never more!”
But in this Mamba was mistaken, as the sequel will show.
Meanwhile Mark hurried back to the palace and told Rakota what had occurred. The Prince was not surprised. He had mingled much with the Christians, and knew well the spirit by which they were animated. He went at once to the Queen, who was enraged at first by his persistent pleading, vowed that Mamba should die, and gave orders to that effect. But on reconsidering the matter she commuted the sentence into life-long slavery in long chains.
There is usually but brief delay between a sentence and its execution in Madagascar. The very next day heavy chains were riveted on Mamba. These, at one end, were attached to an iron collar round his neck, at the other end to iron rings round his ankles. What sailors would call the slack of these heavy fetters was gathered up in one of the wearer’s hands, and thus carried while he moved about at work.
The poor fellow was first set to work on a piece of road-mending just outside the city gate, with several others—martyrs and criminals—in similar condemnation. And here Mark and his companions met him unexpectedly before they were aware that the fearful punishment had begun.
At the time poor Mamba was toiling with pick and shovel. His heart was almost broken. Death he could have faced without flinching, but to be a life-long slave in galling chains, with the possibility even of seeing his mother and Ramatoa, without being permitted to go near or speak to them, was almost more than he could bear. A deep groan burst from his overcharged breast as he cried, “Oh Lord Jesus, enable me to bear it!”
It was just then that Ebony observed him and uttered a falsetto cry of astonishment.
The Secretary, who was conducting Mark and Hockins on a visit to one of the suburban places of resort, stopped and looked round.
“Dars Mamba, massa!” cried Ebony.