In which Mark carries out his Plans successfully, and powerfully astonishes himself as well as every one else.  
It was a brilliant lovely morning when the guests began to wend their way to the suburban residence of Anosy, where Ranavalona was to hold her garden party.
 
The people were very gay, somewhat excited, and very chatty, for they were aware that the young English doctor had prepared something new and surprising for the Queen’s special benefit.
 
Just before the earliest of these guests, however, had set off to the garden, our three heroes had passed down to that part of the road where the four slaves were already at work with pick and shovel and clanking chain.
 
It was a little after sunrise when Mark went up to the guard to relieve him.
 
“Take care,” said the guard, when about to leave, “that you keep the slaves well out of the way when the Queen passes. All the others in the neighbourhood have been taken off long ago. I was beginning to be afraid you would not come in time.”
 
“I understand,” said Mark, who knew enough of the language, (and also of the situation), to follow the drift of his meaning.
 
The guard thereupon turned, shouldered his musket, and went off, apparently well pleased at the unexpected relief from duty.
 
While this little incident was occurring three of the slaves were looking on with a slight expression of surprise in their sad faces. The fourth, Mamba, was standing in a dejected attitude before Hockins and Ebony, holding a pick in one hand and his heavy chain in the other.
 
“Oh! man, I am sorry to see you like this,” said Hockins, extending his brawny hand, “an’ I does wish I could set you free—but you know I’m as helpless as a babby in this matter.”
 
Mamba dropped the pick and grasped the strong hand, but did not look up. His heart was too full. He did not understand the seaman’s words, but he understood the tone. If he had looked up he would have seen that the tears were hopping over Ebony’s cheeks in spite of the powerful efforts of that sympathetic soul to control them, and that he was unable to speak because of a lump in his throat.
 
“Das most awrful!” he exclaimed at last. “Oh, Mamby, I’d fight for you like a wild-cat wid the cholera if that would do you any good, but it would be ob no use.”
 
Just then Mark came forward. “Quick, follow me,” he said, leading the way to a thick clump of bushes behind a wall that bordered the road. Here, quite concealed, yet able to peep through the leafy screen, he ordered his party to sit down on a heap of stones and await orders. He then went to the top of a mound that lay immediately behind them. From this he could see the road winding along for about two or three hundred yards.
 
Descending to his comrades he sat down beside them.
 
“You look anxious, doctor,” remarked the seaman.
 
“I am anxious,” returned Mark, “I am on the point of making a great venture, and the results may be serious. But we are in God’s hands;” then, turning to Mamba, who looked at him with much curiosity and a gleam of hope on his intelligent face, “I have hope of success and have prayed for it.”
 
Mamba, whose knowledge of English was very slight, shook his head and looked puzzled.
 
“Have you forgotten, Mamba, the law of your land—that the criminal who looks upon the Queen is from that moment entitled to claim freedom? Ranavalona is to pass along this road in less than half-an-hour.”
 
Of course Mark said this in remarkably bad Malagasy, but Mamba understood. A gleam of intelligence shot into his swarthy visage, and his chest began to heave with strong emotion as he glared rather than gazed at the speaker. Not less surprised were Hockins and Ebony when Mark explained, for although they had indeed heard about the law in question they had forgotten it. After recovering the first shock, Mamba turned quickly and pointed to his three comrades in suffering.
 
“Yes, yes—I understand,” said Mark, “I shall set them free at the same time. Why not? The risk will not be increased.”
 
“A reg’lar jail-delivery!” murmured Hockins, as he drew in a long breath.
 
“Hush! they come!” cried Mark, crouching so as the more effectually to conceal himself, in which act he was quickly imitated by the others.
 
According to promise, Ranavalona had set out from her palace that morning without her wonted display and ceremonial, with only a few of her courtiers and a handful of troops around her. She did not, however, omit the scarlet umbrella of state, and it was this brilliant object which had attracted Mark’s attention.
 
When the procession had approached close to the place of concealment, Mark whispered “Now!” and ran to the top of the mound before referred to. The four slaves followed him. The summit gained they turned, lifted up their arms and chains, looked upon the Queen, and gave vent to the “oo!—oo!—oo!” which stands to the Malagasy in the place of a cheer. Recognising the importance of the event, Hockins and Ebony, unable to restrain themselves, gave vent to a hearty British hurrah!
 
At this interruption, the bearers of the royal palanquin or chair halted, the soldiers brought their muskets to the “ready,” and a dark frown overspread the features of the Queen.
 
Before the storm could burst, however, Mark descended the mound, went to the side of the chair, knelt on one knee, and exclaimed—
 
“Forgive, madam—forgive me!”
 
“This, then, is your doing,” replied the Queen, sternly, through the Secretary, who was at her side.
 
“It is, madam. I am guilty. If punishment must descend, I alone should bear it.”
 
There was something so modest, yet so fearless, in the youth’s tone and bearing, that the Queen’s brows relaxed a little.
 
“But why did you dare to interfere with my laws?” demanded Ranavalona, still angrily.
 
“I did not venture to interfere, madam,” returned Mark, humbly, “I did but use one law to neutralise another. One of these slaves is my friend. I think he would be very useful in helping me to-night with my magic fires!”
 
There was so much of cool presumption in thus quietly changing the subject, with such charming modesty of demeanour, too, that the Queen burst into a hearty laugh.
 
“Strike off his fetters,” she said, and gave the signal to her bearers to move on.
 
“Ay,” said Mark to the Secretary in an authoritative tone, “and also strike off the fetters of the other three!”
 
“You’ve got cheek for anything a’most, doctor,” said the amazed and amused seaman, as they fell into the procession, and followed the Queen to the pleasure-garden.
 
Here extensive preparations had been made for spending the day in games and festivities that far exceeded anything of the sort ever before attempted in that land. For Mark Breezy had not only an ingenious mind to devise, but an organising spirit to make use of the services of others in carrying out his plans.
 
When the guests were scattered about the grounds, after a good breakfast, enjoying the delightful shade of the trees, tempting the gold-fish in the lake with crumbs of food, and loitering among the by-paths, the young doctor made himself almost ubiquitous. Acting the double part of manager of the games and amusements, and private conspirator, he set an army of palace officials in motion, whom he pledged to secrecy, and led each to suppose that he was the prime mover in some plot that was to astonish and delight the Queen, in all which he was ably assisted by the Secretary. When he had thus stirred up, as it were, an air of mystery and expectation, he led the Secretary, Hockins, and Ebony, to a retired spot, and, bidding them sit down, gave them a brief address.
 
“You see,” he said, “the time has now come for me to explain to you more fully the plans and plots with which I have been engaged for some time past. And in doing so I would impress upon you, Mr Secretary, that I am placing my life in your hands; but I do so without fear, believing that you are a Christian and will not betray me.”
 
Mark paused and looked full at the Secretary, who said, “But you must remember that I can do nothing that will be disloyal to the Queen.”
 
“If you were persecuted by the Queen and threatened with death, would you consider it allowable to fly to the forests?”
 
“Yes—the Word of the Lord recommends that.”
 
“Would you consider it right to assist a fellow-Christian to fly?”
 
“Truly I would!”
 
“Well then, you will assist me this night, for I have spoken to Rafaravavy. My Malagasy words are few, but love does not require many words! She has agreed to fly with Ravonino—”
 
“Have you seen Ravonino lately?” asked Hockins.
 
“No—I have not seen him lately.”
 
“How, then, do you know he will be ready?”
 
“Because,” said Mark, with a peculiar look, “I have been smitten with his complaint, and know that it runs the same course and exhibits the same phases in most men. Let a young fellow see his intended bride treated with cruelty, and you may be sure that, no matter what difficulties may be in the way, he will hasten at the very first opportunity to meet and carry off the sweet little fairy in spite of—”
 
“Das me an’ my black darlin’, zactly—same zif you bin dar an’ sawd us do it!” exclaimed Ebony, with beaming interest.
 
“Just so,” resumed Mark. “However, I have not left things altogether to chance. Although I did not see Ravonino lately, I saw him not very long ago, and gave him to understand that when some unusual festivities were going on in this garden he was to be ready at the old spot for whatever might happen! Now, here is my little plan. You know I’ve been drilling fifty picked natives for some time in that big shed at the back of the cliff on the north side o’ the city. I picked them for intelligence as well as strength and activity. Well, I have taught them a wild war-dance. It cost me no little trouble and many sleepless nights to invent it, but I’ve managed it, and hope to show the Queen and Court what can be done by a little organisation. These fifty are first of all to glide quietly among the trees, each man to a particular spot and hang on the branches fifty earthen saucers full of grease, with wicks in them. At a given signal they are to light these instantaneously and retire. At another signal they are to rush upon the open space in front of the garden-house, and there engage in a sham fight. While thus engaged, men who have been taught will set fire to the mildest of our fireworks. When these are about to go out I will myself light the big Roman candle—”
 
“De young cannon, massa?”
 
“Yes, the young cannon, and that will keep things going for a considerable time. Now, it is when the fight of the fifty begins and engrosses the attention of every one that I will myself take Rafaravavy out from among the ladies and lead her to the rendezvous. You will all stand by—to lend a hand if need be—at the south-east corner of the garden-house, that I may know exactly where to find you. My hope and expectation is that by keeping things............