CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
IN PRISON--EFFECTS OF A FIRST SIGHT OF TORTURE.
A new day had begun, cattle were lowing on the distant plain, and birdswere chirping their matutinal songs in bush and tree when Mark Breezy,John Hockins, and James Ginger--_alias_ Ebony--awoke from their uneasyrest on the prison floor and sat up with their backs against the wall.Their chains rattled sharply as they did so.
"Well now," said Hockins, gasping forth his morning yawn in spite ofcircumstances, "I've many a time read and heard it of other folk, but Inever did think I should live to hear my own chains rattle."
"Right you are, 'Ockins; ob course I's got de same sentiments zactly,"said the negro, lifting up his strong arm and ruefully surveying theheavy iron links of native manufacture that descended from his wrist.
Mark only sighed. It was the first time he had ever been restrained,even by bolt or bar, much less by manacles, and the effect on his youngmind was at first overwhelming.
Bright though the sun was outside, very little of its light found apassage through the chinks of their all but windowless prison-house, sothat they could scarcely see the size or character of the place. Butthis mattered little. They were too much crushed by their misfortune tocare. For some time they sat without speaking, each feeling quiteincapable of uttering a word of cheer to his fellows.
The silence was suddenly but softly broken by the sound of song. Itseemed to come from a very dark corner of the prison, in which nothingcould be seen. To the startled prisoners it sounded like heavenlymusic--and indeed such it was, for in that corner sat two Christiancaptives who were spending the first minutes of the new day in singingpraise to God.
The three comrades listened with rapt attention, for although the wordswere unintelligible, with the exception of the name of Jesus, the airwas quite familiar, being one of those in which English-speakingChristians are wont to sing praise all the world over.
When the hymn ceased one of the voices was raised in a reverent andcontinuous tone, which was obviously the voice of prayer.
Just as the petition was concluded the sun found a loop-hole in theprison, and poured a flood of light into it which partly illumined thedark corner, and revealed two men seated on the ground with their backsagainst the wall. They were fine-looking men, nearly naked, and joinedtogether by means of a ponderous piece of iron above two feet long, witha heavy ring at either end which encircled their necks. The rings wereso thick that their ends must have been forced together withsledge-hammer and anvil after being put round the men's necks, and thenoverlapped and riveted. Thus it became impossible to free them fromtheir fetters except by the slow and laborious process of cutting themthrough with a file. Several old and healed-up sores on the necks andcollar-bones of both men indicated that they and their harsh couplingshad been acquainted for a long time, and one or two inflamed spots toldall too clearly that they had not yet become quite reconciled. _SeeNote 1_.
"Now isn't that awful," said John Hockins in a low voice with a sort ofchoke in it, "to think that these poor fellows--wi' that horrible thingthat can't be much under thirty pounds weight on their necks, an' thatmust ha' bin there for months if not for years--are singin' an' prayin'to the Almighty, an' here am I, John Hockins, with little or nothin' tocomplain of as yet, haven't given so much as a thought to--"
The choke got the better of our sailor at this point, and he becamesuddenly silent.
"Das so!" burst in Ebony, with extreme energy. "I's wid you dere! Itell you what it is, 'Ockins, dem brown niggers is true Kistians, an' wewhite folks is nuffin but hipperkrits."
"I hope we're not quite so bad as _that_, Ebony," said Mark, with a sadsmile. "Nevertheless, Hockins is right--we are far behind these poorfellows in submission and gratitude to our Maker."
While he spoke the heavy door of the prison opened, and a jailor enteredwith two large basins of boiled rice. The largest he put on the groundbefore our three travellers, the other in front of the coupled men, andthen retired without a word.
"Well, thank God for this, anyhow," said Mark, taking up one of thethree spoons which lay on the rice and going to work with a will.
"Just so," responded the seaman. "I'm thankful too, and quite ready forgrub."
"Curious ting, 'Ockins," remarked Ebony, "dat your happytite an' mineseems to be allers in de same state--sharp!"
The seaman's appetite was indeed so sharp that he did not vouchsafe areply. The prisoners in the dark corner seemed much in the samecondition, but their anxiety to begin did not prevent their shuttingtheir eyes for a few seconds and obviously asking a blessing on theirmeal. Hockins observed the act, and there passed over his soul anotherwave of self-condemnation, which was indicated by a deprecatory shake ofhis rugged head.
Observing it, Ebony paused a moment and said--
"You's an awrful sinner, 'Ockins!"
"True, Ebony."
"Das jist what I is too. Quite as bad as you. P'r'aps wuss!"
"I shouldn't wonder if you are," rejoined the seaman, recovering hisspirits somewhat under the stimulating influence of rice. The recoverywas not, however, sufficient to induce further conversation at the time,for they continued after that to eat in silence.
They had scarcely finished when the jailor returned to remove the dish,which he did without word or ceremony, and so quickly that Ebony had tomake a sudden scoop at the last mouthful; he secured it, filled hismouth with it, and then flung the spoon at the retiring jailor.
"That was not wise," said Mark, smiling in spite of himself at thetremendous pout of indignation on the negro's face; "the man has us inhis power, and may make us very uncomfortable if we insult him."
"Das true, massa," said Ebony, in sudden penitence, "but if dere's onething I can't stand, it's havin' my wittles took away afore I'm done wid'em."
"You'll have to larn to stand it, boy," said Hockins, "else you'll haveyour life took away, which'll be wuss."
The probability of this latter event occurring was so great that itchecked the rise of spirits which the rice had caused to set in.
"What d'ee think they'll do to us, sir?" asked the sailor, in a tonewhich showed that he looked up to the young doctor for counsel indifficulty. The feeling that, in virtue of his education and training,he ought to be in some sort an example and guide to his comrades inmisfortune, did much to make Mark shake off his despondency and pluck upheart.
"God knows, Hockins, what they will do," he said. "If they were a morecivilised people we might expect to be let off easily for so slight anoffence as rescuing a supposed criminal, but you remember that Ravoninoonce said, when telling us stories round the camp-fire, thatinterference with what they call the course of justice is considered avery serious offence. Besides, the Queen being in a very bad mood justnow, and we being Christians, it is likely we shall be peculiarlyoffensive to her. I fear that banishment is the least we may count on."
"It's a hard case to be punished for bein' Christians, when we hardlydeserve the name. I can't help wonderin'," said the seaman, "that Loveyshould have bolted as he did an' left us in the lurch. He might atleast have taken his risk along with us. Anyhow, he could have spoke upfor us, knowin' both lingos. Of course it was nat'ral that, poor Mambashould look after number one, seem that he was in no way beholden to us;but Lovey was our guide, an' pledged to stand by us."
"I can't help thinking," said Mark, "that you do injustice to Laihova.He is not the man to forsake a comrade in distress."
"That was my own opinion," returned the sailor, "till I seed him go slapthrough yon port-hole like a harlequin."
"P'r'aps he tink he kin do us more service w'en free dan as a prisoner,"suggested Ebony.
"There's somethin' in that," returned Hockins, lifting his hand tostroke his beard, as was his wont when thoughtful. He lifted it,however, with some difficulty, owing to the heavy chain.
They were still engaged in conversation about their prospects when theprison-door again opened, and two men were ushered in. Both wore whitel
ambas over their other garments. One was tall and very dark. Theother was comparatively slender, and not so tall as his companion. Fora moment the strangers stood contemplating the prisoners, and Mark'sattention was riveted on the smaller man, for he felt that his somewhatlight-coloured and pleasant features were not unfamiliar to him, thoughhe could not call to mind where or when he had seen him. Suddenly itflashed across him that this was the very man to whose assistance he hadgone, and whose wounds he had bound up, soon after his arrival in theisland.
With a smile of recognition, Mark rose and extended his hand as far ashis chain permitted. The young native stepped forward, grasped thehand, and pressed it warmly. Then he looked round at his tallcompanion, and spoke to him in his own tongue, whereupon the tall manadvanced a step, and said in remarkably bad English--
"You save me frind life one taime ago. Ver' good--him now _you_ save."
"Thank him for that promise," said Mark, greatly relieved to find atleast one friend among the natives in his hour of need.
"But," continued the Interpreter, "you muss not nottice me frind nowhar.Unerstand?"
"Oh yes, I think I do," returned Mark, with an intelligent look. "Isuppose he does not wish people to think that he is helping or favouringus?"
"That's him! you's got it!" replied the Interpreter, quite pleasedapparently with his success in the use of English.
"My!" murmured Ebony to Hockins in an undertone, "if I couldn't spokebetter English dan dat I'd swaller my tongue!"
"Well--good-boy," said the Interpreter, holding out his hand, which Markgrasped and shook smilingly, as he replied, "Thank you, I'm glad youthink I'm a good-boy."
"No, no--not that!" exclaimed the Interpreter, "good _day_, not good_boy_; good-night, good morning! We goes out, me an' me frind. Him'sname Ravelo."
Again Ravelo shook hands with Mark, despite the rattling chain, noddedpleasantly to him, after the English fashion, and took his departurewith his tall friend.
"Well now, I do think," remarked Hockins, when the door had closedbehind them, "that Rav--Rave-what's-his-name might have took notice ofme too as an old friend that helped to do him service."
"Hm! he seemed to forgit _me_ altogidder," remarked the negro,pathetically. "Dere's nuffin so bad as ingratitood--'cept lockjaw: dasa little wuss."
"What d'ee mean by lockjaw bein' wuss?" demanded Hockins.
"W'y, don't you see? Ingratitood don't _feel_ `thankee,' w'ereaslockjaw not on'y don't feel but don't even _say_ `thankee.'"
A sudden tumult outside the prison here interrupted them. Evidently acrowd approached. In a few minutes it halted before the door, which wasflung open, and four prisoners were thrust in, followed by severalstrong guards and the execrations of the crowd. The door was smartlyslammed in the faces of the yelling people, and the guards proceeded tochain the prisoners.
They were all young men, and Mark Breezy and his friends had no doubt,from their gentle expression and upright bearing, that they were notcriminals but condemned Christians.
Three of them were quickly chained to the wall, but the third was thrownon his back, and a complex chain was put on his neck and limbs, in sucha way that, when drawn tight, it forced his body into a position thatmust have caused him severe pain. No word or cry escaped him, however,only an irrepressible groan when he was thrust into a corner and left inthat state of torture.
The horror of Mark and his comrades on seeing this done in cold bloodcannot be described. To hear or read of torture is bad enough, but tosee it actually applied is immeasurably worse--to note the glance ofterror and to hear the slight sound of the wrenched joints and stretchedsinews, followed by the deep groan and the upward glare of agony!
With a bursting cry of rage, Hockins, forgetting his situation, sprangtowards the torturers, was checked by his fetters, and fell with a heavyclang and clatter on the floor. Even the cruel guards started aside inmomentary alarm, and then with a contemptuous laugh passed out.
Hockins had barely recovered his footing, and managed to restrain hisfeelings a little, when the door was again opened and the Interpreterre-entered with the jailor.
"I come--break chains," said the former.
He pointed to the chains which bound our travellers. They were quicklyremoved by two under-jailors and their chief.
"Now--com vis me."
To the surprise of the Interpreter, Mark Breezy crossed his arms overhis breast, and firmly said--"No!" Swiftly understanding his motive,our seaman and Ebony followed suit with an equally emphatic, "No!"
The Interpreter looked at them in puzzled surprise.
"See," said Mark, pointing to the tortured man in the corner, "we refuseto move a step till that poor fellow's chains are eased off."
For a moment the Interpreter's look of surprise increased; then anindescribable smile lit up his swarthy features as he turned to thejailor and spoke a few words. The man went immediately to the curled-upwretch in the corner and relaxed his chains so that he was enabled togive vent to a great sigh of relief. Hockins and Ebony uttered sighs ofsympathy almost as loud, and Mark, turning to the Interpreter, said,with some emotion, "Thank you! God bless you! Now we will follow."
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Note 1. The fetters here described may be seen in the Museum of theLondon Missionary Society in Blomfield Street, London, along with aninteresting collection of Malagasy relics.