m the cabin, the smell of the Portuguese
tobacco floated on the air, and the coffee-cups lay here and there. The
sound of the bell forward, as a seaman rising struck four bells, came
ringing over the waters. Drawing her mantilla over her, and speaking
languidly and slowly, as if the dreamy influence of the tropical night
affected her, Isabel broke the silence, just as the last tone of the
bell quivered over the sea.

"We hear none of the noises of the African plain here; all seems still
and calm."

"There are no lions or noxious animals in the island," replied the
missionary. "Oxen of great size are plentiful, wild asses, and sheep
with enormous tails; goats, and wild boar, too, are numerous. The sloth
exists here, and I have made many a good meal on a species of bat, of
which there are plenty and very good. Hedgehogs, too, and locusts are a
usual dish."

"I pity the Queen of Madagascar if that's her only food," said Hughes,
rolling a cigarette.

"Oh, there is plenty other. If you choose to take a shot-gun to-morrow
you will find pintado, pigeons, parrots, ducks and geese abundant, only
beware of the caiman, for the rivers literally swarm with them. There
are plenty of fowls, and singularly enough one of the objects of
veneration is a white cock. In the mythology of the country there
exists a great giant powerful for evil, called `Denafil,' and all white
cocks are sacred to him."

"You seem to know the country, senhor?" asked the noble.

"I passed nearly twelve months there," replied the missionary.

"And promised to give us a history of your life among the Hovas. What
better time than the present? That cabin is stifling, and I am sure
none of us wish to go below," said Isabel, in her silvery and persuasive
tones, Dom Maxara being engaged with his cigarette, and Hughes in
wishing the starlight was even brighter than it actually was, for the
folds of the mantilla looked dim and indistinct under the feeble light.

The missionary was silent for a few minutes as if recalling his
recollections.

"I cannot say I will fulfil my promise with pleasure, but I will fulfil
it," he replied. "I have already mentioned whence we sailed and how we
reached this bay. The first night we landed we encamped on the banks of
this very river, which is called the `Onglaki,' the vessel that brought
us sailing for Tamatave. We were four missionaries under the guidance
of one of our brethren, who had lately come from England