His countenance fell; the man looked the picture of mingled astonishment and misery, while with a deep-drawn sigh—half sob—(almost too much for my gravity) he said: ‘I have no shilling, sir.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘I can’t draw your tooth,’ and with that I put my forceps in my pocket. ‘But how is that, sir?’ he asked, ‘you never charged a shilling for drawing a tooth before.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I never dreamt of doing so; but then, formerly, the bond of union between us was friendship. You carried me, I paid you proper wages; and if you had toothache, and wanted a tooth drawn, I drew it for nothing. If ill, or your wife or children were ill, I did my best for you, and gave you medicines free; but you are dissatisfied with that bond, you wish the bond between us to be a mere matter of money. Well, just as you like. I have no wish to force my friendship upon you, or upon any one else; but if it is to be money on one side, it must be money on the other. It cannot be friendship on one side, and money on the other; it must be friendship right through, or money right through. You have a perfect right to put any price you please upon your services. If you put four shillings a day on them, when I want them I will pay for them; but when you want mine, you must pay for them, and you may find that to be rather expensive.’
A twinge of the toothache taking him at the moment, he twisted his face and seemed to writhe in agony; when able to speak he turned to me and said in the most pathetic tones: ‘Oh, sir, let’s return to friendship—and draw my tooth!’ Whereupon we returned to friendship, and I drew his tooth, having the most profuse thanks for my trouble, after which he went away, looking the picture of relief and happiness.
On his return to the village, he met with some of his fellow bearers, to whom he said: ‘It won’t do to fall out with the white man.’ ‘Why?’ they asked. ‘If he won’t pay us a shilling a day we won’t carry him.’ ‘How will you do,’ he asked, ‘if you happen to have toothache, as I had, and want your tooth drawn?’ ‘We shall go to him,’ they said, ‘and have our teeth drawn.’ ‘But,’ he said, ‘it is a shilling a tooth, if you are not on friendly terms with him, as he only draws the teeth of his friends for nothing.’
Next morning, on my going out into the yard, I found, to my astonishment, my bearers hanging about looking very sheepish. Saluting them, I asked after their health, and how they had been since we parted. One of them plucked up courage to ask when I was going out into the district again. I replied that I could not tell, but as soon as they came to their senses again I would be glad to go. The man said: ‘Please, sir, don’t mention that again!’ upon which I said, ‘Come to-morrow morning, then.’ They came, and we never had any more trouble with them.
When we left on furlough the same men, and a dozen of others, carried my wife, our children, and myself to the coast, some 300 miles away from their own homes! They were among the last with whom I shook hands as I stepped into the boat. They were a lot of fine fellows, who carried me thousands of miles, did many a good day’s work for me, and many a kindness; but they had just gone a little stupid for the time, and needed to be shown their folly, and how their principles cut both ways, and then they came to their senses again.
Once, while I was away up in the capital, my wife slipped and fell from top to bottom of the stairs. She was lifted by the servants, carried upstairs, and laid on her bed. About midnight she felt as if she was about to be ill, and, in her then delicate condition, she feared what the consequences might be if she really took ill while by herself, and so sent to the village to inform Razàka of her state, and ask him to send to the capital to call me home. He sent off two men at midnight for me. When the news reached me in the capital, I called my bearers, told them what had happened, how Madama was, and that we must start off home at once. They said, ‘We can’t reach Fìhàonana to-night, sir, with only eight bearers. ‘Well,’ I answered, ‘get other four, or even other eight; but we must get to Fìhàonana by dark.’ We started with sixteen bearers, ran the whole forty miles, and did the journey in seven hours! Twelve of the bearers broke down, and had to be left at villages on the way, to come on next day, and the four bearers who carried me in were Fìhàonana men. I gave all double pay and a present, and these four an extra present. It was the quickest journey I had ever taken, and yet it was the longest; for I feared what awaited me at the end—possibly a dead wife and child. Through God’s goodness I found her better than she was when she sent for me. She had lain where she had been placed for thirty-two hours, which probably saved her.
We went up to the capital in January, 1874, to attend the meetings of the Imèrina district committee and a missionary conference, held during that month. It was not until the second week of February that we were able to start home again to our own station, and on that journey we had an exciting experience, which might have had a very tragic ending. It was the middle of the rainy season, when the rivers and streams were flooded. This made the journey with young children a trying one; but all went well, until we reached the banks of the Ànjamòka, a small and usually a shallow river, about seven miles from our own home. There had been very heavy rains during the night previous, and we found the river swollen to ten times its ordinary size. The bearers refused to attempt the crossing. They said they would be drowned if they did, as the current was so strong. After waiting on the banks of the river for about an hour discussing the subject, and trying to persuade the men to make the attempt, I felt compelled at last to assume a different tone, and tell them that the river had to be forded.
We had neither stretchers nor bedclothes, and we were not prepared to spend the night, within sight of our own home, on mats on the floor of a filthy Malagasy hut full of vermin. As there was no canoe to be had, there was nothing for it but to ford the river. My firm tone had the desired effect, and the men rose and prepared to cross. Four of the tallest of them took up my wife’s palanquin, with her and the baby, and holding it high over their heads, entered the river. Four of their companions entered the river along with them, two swimming on the lower side of the palanquin, and two on the upper side, holding on to the poles with one hand while they swam with the other to keep the bearers from being carried away by the current. My heart was beating fast as I saw them enter the rushing stream; but it almost stood still when I saw the heads of the bearers disappear in the foaming river. I thought I was to see my wife and child drowned before my eyes. Fortunately my wife could not see what was happening. The brave fellows, when they found how deep the river was, had set their teeth, shut their eyes, and marched right on, having to take two or three steps in the bed of the stream, with their heads under water; but holding the palanquin at the utmost stretch of their arms above their heads. The weight of my wife and baby in the palanquin, and the hold which their four companions had of it, helped to keep them steady; but it was a most heroic feat.
It was with a sense of ineffable relief that I saw in a moment their heads reappear above the water; but it seemed an age. They soon clambered up the opposite bank, and the precious burden was safe. The bearers then gave vent to their pent-up feeling by laughter and shouting, returned for the other two children, their nurse, and then myself.
Having forded the river once, they were quite prepared to do it fifty times if necessary. After we had all been brought safely over, the men started again laughing, dancing, and fairly yelling for joy. ‘What a set of cowards we are,’ they said, ‘if it had not been for the white man, we should never have attempted fording the river.’ I thought within myself, if you only knew it, the said white man would never have asked you to make the attempt, if he had had any idea of the risk that you would have to run. It would have been far wiser, however uncomfortable, to have waited for another hour, or even two, on the banks of the river. However, we reached home just at dark, and had soon forgotten the perils and discomforts of our journey.