Part 8 (1/2)
The soldier seized the light and advanced quickly towards the opening.
Another minute and all must have been revealed. A feeling of despair took possession of Ravonino's breast and he gave vent to an involuntary sigh.
The sound reached the ear of the soldier with the torch and for a moment arrested him, but, thinking probably that the sound was in his imagination, he again advanced. The case was now desperate. Just then a gleam of light flashed into the mind of Hockins. Next moment, to the consternation of his comrades and the guide, a strain of the sweetest music floated softly in the air!
The soldiers stood still--spell-bound. It was not an unfamiliar air, for they had often heard the hated Christians sing it, but the sweet, liquid--we might almost say tiny--tones in which it was conveyed, were such as had never before reached their ears or even entered their imaginations. It was evident from their countenances that the soldiers were awe-stricken. The seaman noted this. He played only a few bars, and allowed the last notes of his flageolet to grow faint until they died away into absolute silence.
For a minute or two the soldiers stood rooted to the spot, gazing up into the roof of the cave as if expecting a renewal of the sounds. Then they looked solemnly at each other. Without uttering a word they turned slowly round, retreated on tip-toe as they came, and finally disappeared.
We need hardly say that the astonishment of the people in the cave at the mode of their deliverance from the threatened danger was intense.
When the torches were relighted the men and women a.s.sembled round Ravonino with looks little less solemn than those of the soldiers who had just taken their departure.
”Surely,” said the handsome young man whom we have already introduced, ”surely G.o.d has wrought a miracle and sent an angel's voice for our deliverance.”
”Not so, Laihova,” replied Ravonino, with a slight smile. ”We are too apt to count everything that we fail to understand a miracle. G.o.d has indeed sent the deliverance, but through a natural channel.”
”Yet we see not the channel, Ravoninohitriniony,” said Laihova's queen-like sister, Ramatoa.
”True, Ramatoa. Nevertheless I can show it to you. Come, Hockins,” he added in English, ”clear up the mystery to them.”
Thus bidden, our seaman at once drew forth the little instrument and began to play the hymn they had just been singing, with the air of which, as we have said, he chanced to be well acquainted.
It would be hard to say whether surprise or pleasure predominated in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of his audience. At last the latter feeling prevailed, and the whole a.s.sembly joined in singing the last verse of the hymn, which appropriately terminated in ”Praise ye the Lord.”
”But our retreat is no longer safe,” said Ravonino, when the last echo of their thanksgiving had died away. ”We must change our abode--and that without delay. Get ready. By the first light of morning I will lead you to a new home. These soldiers will not return, but they will tell what they have seen, and others less timorous will come here to search for us.”
Immediately the people set about collecting together and packing up what may be termed their household goods, leaving the guide and their visitors to enjoy supper and conversation in their own corner of the cave.
CHAPTER SIX.
THE GUIDE BECOMES COMMUNICATIVE, AND TELLS OF TERRIBLE DOINGS.
During the progress of supper, which consisted of cold dried meat and rice, the quartette seated on the ferns in the corner of the cave were unusually silent. Mark Breezy and Ravonino continued to eat for some time without speaking a word. Ebony, although earnestly absorbed in victuals, rolled his eyes about as he looked from time to time at his companions with unwonted solemnity, and John Hockins frowned at his food, and shook his s.h.a.ggy head with an air of dissatisfied perplexity.
”Ravonino,” at length said the last, looking up, and using his gra.s.s pocket-handkerchief, ”it seems to me, bein' a plain straight-for'ard sort o' seaman, that there's somethin' not exactly fair an' above-board in all them proceedin's. Of course it's not for me to say what a independent man should do or say; but don't you think that w'en a man like you professes to be honest, an' asks other men to trust him, he should at least explain _some_ o' the riddles that surround him? I'm a loyal man myself, an' I'll stand up for _my_ Queen an' country, no matter what may be the circ.u.mstances in w'ich I'm placed; so that w'en I sees another man admittin' that he's a outlaw, an' finds the soldiers of _his_ Queen a-huntin' all about the country arter him and his comrades-- seems to me there's a screw loose somewheres.”
”Dat's _my_ sent'ments zactly,” said the negro, with a decisive nod.
Mark took no notice of this speech, but silently continued his supper.
For a few moments the guide did not speak or look up. Then, laying down his knife and clasping his hands over one of his knees, he looked earnestly into the seaman's face.
”You tell me you are loyal,” he said.
Hockins nodded.
”If your queen,” continued Ravonino, ”were to tell you to give up the service of G.o.d and wors.h.i.+p idols, would you do it?”
”Cer'nly not,” replied the seaman, promptly, ”for she has no right to rule over my soul. My duty to the King of Kings stands before my duty to the Queen of England.”