But there were more surprises in store for that singular meeting. After the sermon the preacher announced that two marriages were about to be solemnised by him in the simplest manner possible. “My friends,” he said, “one of the bridegrooms is only half a Malagasy, the other half of him is English. He objects to ceremony, and his friend, the other man to be married, objects to everything that he objects to, and agrees to everything that he agrees to, which is a very satisfactory state of mind in a friend; so they are to be married together.”
Immediately after this speech Ravonino led forward Rafaravavy, and Laihova advanced with Ra-Ruth, and these two couples were then and there united in matrimony. Radama the Second, and Prince Ramonja, who had been recalled and reinstated with the Secretary, and Soa, and other courtiers, graced the wedding with their presence.
From this time, Radama the Second—or Rakota, as we still prefer to call him—began systematically to undo the mischief which his wicked mother had done. He began to build a college; he re-opened the schools throughout the country which had been closed in the previous reign, and acted on principles of civil and religions liberty and universal free trade, while the London Missionary Society—which had sent out the first Protestant Missionaries in 1818-20—were invited to resume their beneficent labours in the island—an invitation which, of course, they gladly accepted, and at once despatched the veteran Mr Ellis, and other missionaries, to the re-opened field. See Note 1.
But all this, and much more historical matter of great interest, we must leave untouched, in order that we may wind up the record of our heroes’ fortunes, or misfortunes; as the reader pleases to consider them.
The events which we have described occurred in such rapid succession that our trio—Mark, Hockins, and Ebony—had scarce found breathing-time to consider what they should do, now that they were free to do as they pleased.
“Go home, ob course,” said Ebony, when the question was mooted. “Ain’t my black darlin’ awaitin’ ob me dar?”
“I incline to the same course,” said Mark, “for my—well, I won’t say who, is awaiting me there also.”
“Unless she’s falled in lub wid some one else, tinkin’ you was dead, massa, you know,” suggested Ebony.
“Ditto, says I,” answered Hockins, when appealed to, “for, to the best o’ my belief, my old ooman is awaitin’ for me, too, over there—he pointed to England with the stem of his pipe—to say nothin’ o’ three thumpin’ boys an’ a gal—also an old gran’-mother an’ a maiden aunt, etceterer—all awaitin’ with great patience, I have no manner o’ doubt.”
“But how’s we to git dar? Das de question; as Hamblit said to his moder’s ghost.”