The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar

by R. M. Ballantyne

“I believe you are right,” said Mark, much impressed with this outburst and the earnest enthusiasm of his friend’s manner. “And,” he continued, “you have a noble country to work on—full of earth’s riches.”

“You say noting but the truth,” answered the Secretary in a gratified tone. “Is not our island as big—or more big—as yours—nearly the same as France? And look around! We have thousands of cattle, tame and wild, with which even now we send large supplies to foreign markets, and fowls innumerable, both wild and tame. Our soil is rich and prolific. Are not our vegetables and fruits innumerable and abundant? Do not immense forests traverse our island in all directions, full of trees that are of value to man—trees fit for building his houses and ships and for making his beautiful furniture, as well as those that supply cocoa-nuts, and figs, and fruits, and gums, and dyes? And have we not the silkworm in plenty, and cotton-plants, and sugar-cane, and many spices, and the great food-supply of our people—rice, besides minerals which make nations rich, such as iron and gold? Yes, we have everything that is desirable and good for man. But we have a climate which does not suit the white man. Yet some white men, like yourself, manage to live here. Is not this a voice, from God? He does not speak to us with the tongue of man, but He speaks with a still, small voice, as easy to understand. He has surrounded our island with unhealthy shores. Does not that tell the white man not to come here? Your London Missionary Society sent us the Bible. God bless them for that! They have done well. But they have done enough. We desire not the interference of England or France in our affairs. We do not want your divisions, your sects. We have the Word. God will do the rest. We want no white nations to protect us. We want to be let alone to protect and develop ourselves, with the Bible for our guide and the Holy Spirit as our teacher. You Englishmen were savages once, and the Word of God came and raised you. You only continue to be great because the Bible keeps you still in the right path. What it has done for you it will do for us. All we ask for is to be let alone!”

The Secretary had become quite excited on this theme, and there is no saying how much longer he might have gone on if Ebony had not returned, scratched, bruised, bleeding, panting and perspiring, but jubilant, with an enormous butterfly captive in his net, and the cause of science advanced.

Having secured the specimen, they set off at once to visit the hot springs, after pricking a traveller’s tree with a spear and obtaining a refreshing draught of cool clear water therefrom.

Fountains of mineral waters have been found in many, parts of Madagascar, and among them several which are called Rano-mafana, or “warm waters.” These vary both in temperature and medicinal properties. The spot when reached was found to be a small cavity in the rocks which was delightfully shaded by the leaves of the wild fig, and by a number of interwoven and overhanging bamboos. The branches of the fig-trees spread directly across the stream.

Hastening to the fountain, Hockins thrust his hand in, but quickly pulled it out again, for the water was only a few degrees below the boiling-point.

“Too hot to bathe in!” he said.

“But not too hot here,” remarked Ebony, going to a pool a little further from the fountain-head, where the water had cooled somewhat. There the negro dropped his simple garments, and was soon rolling like a black porpoise in his warm bath. It was only large enough for one, but close to it was another small pool big enough for several men. There Mark and Hockins were soon disporting joyously, while the Secretary looked on and laughed. Evidently he did not in the circumstances deem warm water either a necessity or a luxury.

That evening, after returning to camp, Mark was summoned to lay the result of his labours before the Queen, who was much interested in his collection of plants, and not a little amused with his collection of insects; for she could understand the use of the medicines which her Court Physician assured her could be extracted from the former, but could see no sense whatever in collecting winged and creeping things, merely to be stuck on pins and looked at and saddled with incomprehensible names! She did indeed except the gorgeous butterflies, and similar creatures, because these were pretty; but on the whole she felt disposed to regard her physician as rather childish in that particular taste.

Very different was her opinion of John Hockins. So fond was she of the flageolet of that musical and stalwart tar that she sent for him almost every evening and made him pipe away to her until he almost fell asleep at his duty, so that at last he began to wish that flageolets had never been invented.