The Fugitives, Robert Michael Ballantyne [e reader manga txt] 📗

with the bloody remains and the bleaching bones of other martyrs who had preceded her.

The crowd, who had followed the procession with imprecations against the Christians, now ceased to shout.

"Will you allow me a short time to pray?" asked Rasalama of the executioners.

Her request being granted, she kneeled on the rocky ground, clasped her hands, and raised to Heaven a look of calm trustfulness, as she held communion for the last time on earth with her Redeemer.

"Where is the God she prays to that he does not save her now?" whispered some. Others held their peace, but laid these things to heart.

While the poor creature was thus engaged, the two executioners, without warning, thrust their spears deep into her body. It was the custom of these men to plunge the spears into the loins of their victims on each side of the back-bone in such a position that they did not produce immediate death, but allowed the martyrs to tumble into the ditch and writhe there in agony for some time with the spears still sticking in them. Happily, in the case of Rasalama, the thrusts were--either intentionally or accidentally--more effective than usual. After a very brief struggle, her happy soul was set free to be "for ever with the Lord."

In that ditch her poor mangled body was left to be devoured by the wild dogs that frequent all places in Madagascar where criminals suffer. _See Note 2_.

"Oh, God!" exclaimed Mark, unable to repress a groan. "Let us quit this accursed spot."

"Stay, sir, stay," whispered the sailor at his elbow, "you forget Mamba. More are comin'."

More martyrs were indeed coming, as the singing of hymns proved.

Close on the heels of Rasalama, a band of nine other Christians were carried to the place of execution, each with his feet and hands tied together and slung on a pole, the ends of which were borne by two men. Straw had been stuffed into their mouths to prevent praying or singing, but several of them, managing to get rid of the straw, burst into the triumphal songs which had attracted the attention of our seaman.

Arrived at the ditch, the victims were asked if they would give up praying to Jesus. In every case the answer was a decided "No!" They were then thrust into the ditch, forced down on their knees, and made to bend forward. While this was being done, the shuddering friends of Mamba perceived that he was not among the martyrs. One by one each unfortunate was stabbed in the loins, close on either side of the back-bone, but not one was terrified into recanting, although by so doing he might have been restored at once to life and liberty. The truth of that word, "As thy days thy strength shall be," was clearly and wonderfully proved in the case of these sufferers. After all had fallen, their heads were cut off and placed in a row on the edge of the ditch. Five of the nine belonged to one family.

One man who had been reserved to the last, for some reason or other that was net explained, was led to the brow of the precipice, and the same question was put to him that had been put to his fellow-martyrs. From the spot on which he stood he could look down into the awful gulf, a sheer descent of sixty feet first to a place where a ledge projected, and then, a further descent of still greater depth to the bottom, where the ground was covered with rocks and debris from the cliffs.

Unfaltering in courage and allegiance to the Master, his "No!" was distinct and decisive. Next moment he was hurled over. With terrific force he struck the ledge, and it must have been a lifeless body that was finally shattered on the plain below.

As the people immediately began to disperse after this, Mark and his friends hastened sway from the place with an overwhelming sense of horror upon them, but thankful as well as relieved to know that their friend Mamba was not yet among the martyrs.

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Note 1. Rasalama was in truth the first martyr of Madagascar. She was slain in the year 1837. We have only transposed the date. Her story is given, without variation worthy of mention, from authentic records.

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Note 2. Close to the spot where the heroic Rasalama knelt to pray and die, a large Memorial Church now stands, the spire of which forms a conspicuous object in every distant view of the city.


CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.


MAMBA, SUBJECTED TO THE ORDEAL OF THE "TANGENA," ESCAPES, BUT AFTERWARDS ACCUSES HIMSELF AND IS CONDEMNED.

If not yet among the martyrs, it was soon evident that Mamba stood a good chance of being among them before long--and that the mother of whom he was so fond, and for the gratification of whose spiritual longings he had risked so much, would probably never receive the Gospel of Peace from his hands.

While in prison under accusation of being a believer in the religion of the white man, he had debated much with himself as to what was his duty in the present distress. Was he bound to confess Christ and take the consequence--which, of course, he knew to be death? To deny Him was out of the question. He at once dismissed that idea as untenable. But was there no other mode of escape? Did not the Word itself advise that when persecuted in one city he was not only entitled but advised to escape to another? "But how am I to escape? Oh God, guide me!" he cried, lifting his clasped hands as he converted the question into a prayer.

The rattling of his chains seemed to bid him dismiss all hope, but he did not lose faith. He continued to pray and meditate. And the longer he meditated the more anxiously did he long to be back in the cave beside his Reni--his humble-minded loving little mother--and beside-- yes, he made no attempt to conceal it from himself--beside the beautiful queen-like sister of Laihova. The more he meditated, however, the more hopeless did his case seem to become. To lie he would not--not even to gain Ramatoa. To die he would _rather_ not! To escape he could not!

At last he hit upon an idea. He would refuse to answer. He would take refuge in absolute silence!

As might have been expected, this course of policy did not avail him much. When it was found that he would not say whether he was a Christian or not, it was resolved that the matter should be settled by an appeal to the ordeal of the Tangena.

This used to be a common and much-practised ordeal in Madagascar in days but recently past. It consisted in the administration of poison. Other ordeals existed in the island--such as passing a red-hot iron over the tongue, or plunging the naked arm into a large pot of boiling water and picking out a pebble thrown therein for the purpose of trial. Alas for both innocent and guilty subjected to either trial! But the ordeal most universally in favour was that of the Tangena.

The Tangena is in fact a poisonous nut about the size of a chestnut which derives its name from the tree that bears it. If taken in small doses it acts as an emetic; if in large doses it kills. Many pages would be required to give a full and particular account of all the Malagasy superstitions connected with the ordeal. Let it suffice to say, roughly, that previous to the poison being administered the accused person is obliged to swallow whole, or rather bolt, three pieces of the skin of a fowl, about the size of a dollar. Then the decoction of Tangena in rice-water is administered. If given strong it kills, and the unfortunate is held to have been guilty. If not too strong, and the sufferer be able to bear it, vomiting is the result, and the three pieces of skin are eagerly looked for. The finding of the pieces proves the accused to be innocent. The not finding of them proves him guilty, and at once, if he be a free man, he is killed, if a slave he is sold, and got rid of in some distant market. There was a very complex system of combined profit and superstition surrounding the whole affair which it is difficult as well as useless thoroughly to understand, but which it is easy to see afforded clever scoundrels the means of persecuting, defrauding, or killing any whom they chanced to dislike, or who stood in their way. Of course it was very easy to make the potion strong enough to kill, or to dilute it with rice-water until it became almost harmless.

Now, when Mark Breezy heard that Mamba was condemned to swallow the Tangena he went straight to his friend Rakota.

"Prince Rakota," he said, earnestly, "if your expressions of gratitude to me are sincere you will save the life of this man."

"I will try," returned the Prince, "but the Queen is very angry just now!"

When the Prince pleaded for the man's life Ranavalona asked of what he was accused.

"Of praying to the Christians' God."

"Does he admit the charge?" demanded the Queen sternly.

"No--I believe not."

"Then, let the Tangena decide. It always speaks the truth. Our ancestors thought so, and I will not change the customs of our ancestors!" said this outrageously conservative queen.

Rakota, however, was a determined man and not easily foiled. Going privately to those who had the management of the matter, he made use of those mysterious arguments with which princes manage to attain their ends, and afterwards told Mark the result, which was, according to Hockins, that, "Mamba's grog was to be well-watered!" As Mark could do nothing more for his friend he went with his companions to see the result.

There was another man, accused of stealing, who was to be tested at the same time. He was a strong sturdy pugnacious-looking man.

A good deal of ceremonial of course preceded the ordeal. Among other things the poison had to be tested on two fowls. It killed them both and was deemed too strong. Being diluted it was tried on two other fowls, and killed neither. It was therefore considered rather weak. At last, having been reduced to the exact strength which killed one fowl and only sickened the other, the potion was administered to the reputed thief, after a long prayer or invocation. For two hours there was no result, but at the end of that time the pains began, and increased with much violence, yet the man maintained his innocence. His agonies were soon extreme. Amidst his torture he solicited medicine, but this was refused. His bowels, he said, were writhing as if in knots. His groans were awful. His eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets. His countenance assumed a ghastly hue, and his entire frame was convulsed with torture. Then he vomited violently, and, fortunately for him, the three pieces of skin which he had swallowed made their appearance. He was at once pronounced innocent and set free.

Poor