We need scarcely say that Mark Breezy did not allow this little contretemps to interfere with his plans.
“You’ll have to work all night, both of you—that’s your punishment for disobeying orders—and without the solace of a pipe too,” said Mark, when order was somewhat restored and work resumed. “The garden party, you know, is fixed for to-morrow, and it’s as much as our heads are worth to disappoint the Queen of her expected amusements. Time, tide, and Ranavalona the First wait for no man! I’ve got to go out for an hour or so. When I return I’ll show you how to make stars and crackers and red rain, etcetera.”
“But I say, Doctor,” asked Hockins, looking up from his work, “where are the cases to hold all this here stuff?”
“Time enough for that when we want ’em. I’ve got some fellows at work on small ones, and there’s a big one that will open the Madagaskite eyes if there’s virtue in saltpetre. It’s made of—ah! here it comes,” he added, as the door opened and two natives carried in a piece of cast-iron pipe about six feet long and four inches in diameter.
“The pistol-barrel of a giant,” exclaimed the seaman.
“A young cannon!” said Ebony. “W’y, massa, you gwine to make a Roman candle ob dat?”
He turned for an answer, but Mark had hastily quitted the house.
Encountering the Secretary in the court-yard, he took his arm and said, “I want your help.”
“Well, you shall have it. But you are so mys—mys—what is it—sterious about your leetil plans, that I fear my help is not useful.”
“Oh! yes, it is, I want you to get me a paper from—I don’t know who—the proper officer, whoever he is, authorising me to take a gang of convicts—four will do—to work for me.”