Livingstone found Loanda a very decayed town, but he did not fail to win
many friendships. Mr. Gabriel, the one Englishman in the place, was
overwhelmingly kind, and the Roman Catholic bishop scarcely less so.
English men-of-war were in the harbour also, keeping both eyes open for
slave ships, and Livingstone was able to take his men on board and show
them the cannon with which England “was going to destroy the slave
trade.” He himself recovered only very slowly from his condition of
absolute emaciation, and in August had a severe relapse, which left him
a mere skeleton. Everybody was kind to him, physicking him, and
nourishing him, and, what was most of all valuable in his depression,
providing him with lively and interesting company. He fell in with
their plans for him very gratefully, but on one point he was adamant.
They had wished to persuade him to go home and rest. The British
captains offered him a passage to St. Helena. When this failed they
urged him to take the mail-packet, the “Forerunner,” by which all his
own precious diaries, and letters, and scientific papers, with maps and
so forth, were to be sent. Despite his weakness it was not in him to be
idle, and he had laboriously accomplished the writing of this big budget
of despatches in time for the mail-boat. On April 23rd, 1852, he had
told his wife that he would rejoin her in two years. It was now August,
1854, and his heart cried out for wife and children. But one thing stood
in the way. He had promised his twenty-seven “boys” to take them back to
their own country; and they were there in Loanda on the faith of
Livingstone’s word. It did not consist with his sense of honour to leave
them at Loanda, while he went home for a holiday, and he refused all
the tempting offers. The reward of honourable men does not always come
as it came to him. The “Forerunner” went down with all hands but one,
and he escaped an almost certain fate because he kept his promise. But,
alas! all his precious papers, the fruit of so much labour, were
destroyed; and he had to take up the drudgery of doing everything over
again. It was the form of toil most irksome to him; but he just turned
to and did it. It was his way.
Fortunately he had not gone far on the homeward track when this news
reached him, and there was no lack of hospitality. He was making a
circuit round about Loanda to visit some of the more noted Portuguese
settlements and estates, always with an eye to the better cultivation of
the country and the interest of inland trade. The re-writing of his
papers involved long and tedious delay, and there was more trouble
through fever among his men. The year of 1855 dawned before he left a
hospitable Portuguese home, and struck out along the old trail. It is
worth while to remember here that whereas the expedition travelled from
Linyanti to Loanda in six and a half months, it took twice that time to
return. It was September, 1855, before they saw Linyanti again.
The homeward journey was not devoid of incident and excitement. The
passage through the Chiboque territory was once again troublesome. Just
when Livingstone was most anxious to be himself, he fell a victim to
rheumatic fever. For eight days he lay in his tent, tossing and groaning
with pain; and it was twenty days before he began to recover, and the
old ambition to be on the march came back to him. His men objected, for
he was too weak to move; and at the physical crisis a quarrel broke out
between his men and some of the Chiboques. A blow was struck, for which
ample compensation was paid; but with the leader on his back the
importunities of the tribesmen increased, and matters became
threatening. When a forward move was made, an organised attack on the
baggage took place, and shots were even fired, though nobody was hurt.
It was then that Livingstone snatched up his six-barrelled revolver and
“staggered along the path” till most opportunely he encountered the
hostile chief. “The sight of the six barrels gaping into his stomach and
my own ghastly visage looking daggers at his face seemed to produce an
instant revolution in his martial feelings.” He suddenly became the most
peaceable man in all Africa, and protested his goodwill. Livingstone
advised a practical illustration of this, and bade him go home. The
Chief explained that he would do so, only he was afraid of being shot in
the back! “If I wanted to kill you,” rejoined Livingstone, “I could
shoot you in the face as well.” One of his men, afraid for Livingstone’s
own safety, advised him not to give the Chief a chance of shooting him
in the back, whereupon Livingstone retorted, “Tell him to observe that I
am not afraid of him,” and mounting his ox rode away triumphantly.
Plodding steadily onward, they arrived on the 8th June at a spot famous
for one of Livingstone’s most notable geographical discoveries, which
he afterwards learned was actual confirmation of Sir Roderick
Murchison’s theory, which the latter had worked out in his own arm-chair
as the only one that would satisfy what was known of the African river
systems, and the geological formation. Livingstone had just forded a
wide river called the Lotembwa, only three feet deep, and had failed to
remark in which direction it was flowing. He believed it to be the same
river that flowed south from Lake Dilolo, but a Chief pointed out to him
that this was not so, for the former river flowed north into the Kasai,
one of the main tributaries of the Congo. The latter flowed south into
the Zambesi. Livingstone now realised that he was “standing on the
central ridge that divided these two systems”; and what amazed him most
was that these vast river systems had their rise, not in a chain of
lofty mountains, but on flat plains not more than 4,000 feet above the
sea.
The expedition now made slow and peaceful progress along their former
route, being welcomed everywhere by their old friends with
demonstrations of joy and astonishment. They distributed presents to all
who had prospered them on their way, and left none but friendly memories
behind them. When at the end of July they reached Libonta their progress
became a triumphal procession. His men arrayed themselves in white
European clothing, swaggered like soldiers, and called themselves his
“braves.” During the time of service they sat with their guns over their
shoulders. “You have opened a path for us,” said the people, “and we
shall have sleep.” The ovations continued all down the Barotse valley.
There were no drawbacks, except that many of the men found that during
their absence some of their wives had sought and found other husbands.
Livingstone advised them to console themselves with those that remained.
“Even so, you have as many as I have,” he reminded them. At Linyanti
Livingstone found his waggon and belongings perfectly safe; and some
stores, and a letter a year old, from Dr. and Mrs. Moffat. Sekeletu’s
gratification knew no bounds. A grand new uniform had been sent him as
a present from the coast, and when he wore it to church on Sunday it
produced a greater impression than the sermon. It is worth remarking
that Sekeletu at once began to set on foot a trade in ivory with the
Portuguese at the coast, in fulfilment of Livingstone’s policy.
For eight weeks Livingstone remained at Linyanti. He found plenty to
occupy him. He was once again the guide, philosopher, and friend to all
the tribe. He had doctoring to do, and operations to perform. He found
personal interviews on religious subjects more satisfactory than the
public services, and he was now, as ever, supremely anxious that these
people should owe their souls to his ministry. He had letters to write,
and journals to transcribe, and new observations to make. He had all the
odd jobs to do that had accumulated during his absence. He found
Sekeletu a willing pupil in his ideas on commerce, and on the removal of
the tribe to the healthier and wealthier Barotse valley. Especially he
had to think out the problem of his next great adventure to the East
Coast. His inclination decidedly was to trace the course of the Zambesi
to Quilimane and the sea. But against this was to be set the fact that
it had an evil reputation for the savagery of some of the tribes along
the banks. Certain Arabs whom he had met had strongly counselled him to
strike up country to the North-East and make for Zanzibar by the south
of Lake Tanganyika. The tribes were reported to be peaceable, and the
villages and food supplies plentiful. If he decided to explore the
Zambesi, the problem of the north or south shore was an important one.
The north shore was reported to be very rocky and broken, and
consequently specially difficult for transport.
Either shore was likely to be dangerous to the oxen on account of tsetse
fly. All these considerations had to be weighed, and the final decision
was to risk the dangers of the tribes along the Zambesi, and to take the
north shore, because on Livingstone’s map Tette, the farthest inland
station of the Portuguese, was marked as being on the north of the
river. This turned out to be untrue. Having settled his course he made
his preparations. Sekeletu proved himself a most magnificent ally.
Livingstone’s new escort was composed of a hundred and twenty men, with
ten slaughter oxen and three of the best riding oxen. He was provided
with stores of food, and given tribute rights over all tribes subject to
Sekeletu. When we consider that Livingstone had no one to finance him,
and that the success of his travels depended on the goodwill of native
chiefs like Sekeletu, we begin to understand the unique influence which
he exercised over the native mind. Those who knew him never failed him
at a pinch; they never deserted him in his need; they lent their best
aid to carry through his enterprises; and gave him every tangible proof
that can be given from one man to another of confidence, honour and
love.
Perhaps before we set out on this new journey, we may quote from
Livingstone himself two passages illustrative of the secret of his
influence. In the first he says, “No one ever gains much influence in
this country without purity and uprightness. The acts of a stranger are
keenly scrutinised by both old and young, and seldom is the judgment
pronounced even by a heathen unfair or uncharitable. I have heard women
speaking in admiration of a white man because he was pure, and never was
guilty of any secret immorality. Had he been, they would have known it,
and, untutored heathen though they be, would have despised him in
consequence.” This illustrates Livingstone’s favourite doctrine that it
is the missionary’s life that is the most powerful sermon. That his
teaching was partially understood may be gathered from the story of
Mamire, Sekeletu’s stepfather, who on coming to say good-bye, used words
like these: “You are now going among people who cannot be trusted,
because we have used them badly, but you go with a different message
from any they ever heard before, and Jesus will be with you, and help
you, though among enemies.” It was a gracious and discerning God-speed.
The route selected led Livingstone across what we know to-day as
Rhodesia, and which would have been much more appropriately named
Livingstonia. It passed to the north of the land inhabited by the
formidable and dreaded Matabele. The tribes bordering on the Makololo
country had no reason to love their oppressive neighbours; and this fact
had inspired the fears expressed in Mamire’s words. It was on the 3rd of
November, 1855, that the final departure from Linyanti was made; and
Sekeletu accompanied the expedition along the first stage. He took the
opportunity of showing Livingstone an extraordinary kindness, for the
journey began in a terrific tropical thunderstorm. Livingstone’s
clothing had gone on, and there was nothing for it but to sleep on the
cold ground. Sekeletu, however, took his own blanket and wrapped it
about the missionary, lying himself uncovered through the chill night.
“I was much affected,” writes Livingstone, “by this little act of
genuine kindness. If such men must perish by the advance of
civilisation, as certain races of animals do before others, it is a
pity.”
It was no great distance to the famous falls, the rumour of which had
often reached Livingstone, and which he was the first white man to
visit. The falls were originally called Shongwe. Sebituane used to ask
Livingstone whether in his own country he had “smoke that sounds,”
referring to the pillars of vapour, and the far-carrying roar of the
river as it plunged into the chasm beneath. Sliding down the river in
their canoes, they came to within half a mile of the falls, when some of
the natives who were expert in the management of the rapids transferred
Livingstone to a lighter canoe, and with practised dexterity guided it
to the central island--the “Goat Island” of the Zambesi Falls--“on the
edge of the lip over which the water rolls.” This adventure can only be
made when the river is low, but it was successfully accomplished, and
Livingstone was able to gaze down into the fissure into which the great
river plunges and apparently disappears. Then he saw that “a stream of a
thousand yards broad leaped down a hundred feet, and then became
suddenly compressed into a space of fifteen or twenty yards.” He spent
many hours contemplating its beauties, noting all its fascinations, and
pondering the scientific problem of its origin. He then permitted
himself the only act of nationalism--“personal vanity” he used to call
it--that he ever indulged in. He changed the native name to that of the
Victoria Falls in honour of the great White Queen; and returning to the
island next day with Sekeletu he carved his initials and the date on a
tree, and planted “about a hundred peach and apricot stones and a
quantity of coffee-seeds,” with the remark that “were there no
hippopotami, he had no doubt this would be the parent of all the gardens
which may yet be in this new country.”
Sekeletu now returned home, having provided a company of 114 men to
carry the tusks to the coast, and the expedition set forth in a
northward direction. Many wars had decimated the country, but there were
ample evidences of the savagery of the people. He found one old chief
living in a house surrounded with human skulls, much like Giant Pope’s
cave in the “Pilgrim’s Progress.” Many of the skulls were of mere
children, slain by the chief’s father “to show his fierceness.” The
Batoka tribe could be recognised because of their custom of knocking out
the upper front teeth at the age of puberty, which gave them an uncouth
appearance and a hideous laugh. He found them “very degraded” and much
addicted to smoking “the mutokwana,” a pernicious weed which causes a
species of frenzy, and which is often resorted to before battle as the
native form of “Dutch courage.”
On the 4th of December they had a foretaste of coming peril, in the
person of a howling dervish, who came at Livingstone with his lips
covered with foam, and with a small battle-axe in his hand. “I felt it
would be a sorry way to leave the world, to get my head chopped by a mad
savage”--but he would show no fear, and by and by the paroxysm of frenzy
passed away. Later on, they heard the tribesmen exulting over them.
“God has apportioned them to us,” they cried. Still there was no
outbreak, and the expedition moved on unmolested. The country was now
seen to be swarming with inhabitants. They had no notion of any invasion
of their territory that did not mean conquest and plunder; but when the
villagers listened to Christ’s promise of “Peace on earth, goodwill to
men,” they expressed satisfaction. “Give us rest and sleep,” they
pleaded. The chief Monze, further on, was urgent that a white man should
come and live among his people, and his sister seconded him, exclaiming
that it would be joy “to sleep without dreaming of anyone pursuing one
with a spear.” Livingstone must have felt like Dante with the vision of
the Inferno before his eyes.
They travelled on through a healthy and beautiful region, where
Livingstone could indulge to the full his love of natural beauties, and
study the habits of the wonderful beasts and birds. They kept well to
the north of the Zambesi; and the first organised hostility awaited
them at the confluence of the Zambesi and the Loangwa. There is no more
striking or characteristic story than this in the whole of Livingstones
biography. The chief Mburuma had shown many signs of treachery, and had
roused the countryside against the expedition. It seemed almost certain
that the passage of the Loangwa would be contested. The people were
collecting in large numbers, and remained in obstinate suspicion at a
distance from the camp. Livingstone’s own reflections are to be gathered
from the entries in his Journal. On January 14th--for 1856 has come--he
writes, “Thank God for His great mercies this far. How soon I may be
called before Him, my righteous Judge, I know not.... On Thy word I
lean. The cause is Thine. See, O Lord, how the heathens rise up against
me as they did against Thy Son.” Then comes a very characteristic
sentence: “It seems a pity that the facts about the two healthy
longitudinal regions should not be known in Christendom. Thy will be
done.”
Later on in the evening the signs are even more ominous. “Felt much
turmoil of spirit in view of having all my plans for the welfare of this
great region and teeming population knocked on the head by savages
to-morrow. But Jesus came and said, ‘All power is given to Me in Heaven
and on earth. Go ye therefore and teach all nations ... and lo! I am
with you always, even unto the end of the world.’ It is the word of a
Gentleman of the most sacred and strictest honour and there is an end
on’t. I will not cross furtively by night as I intended. It would appear
as flight, and should such a man as I flee? Nay, verily, I shall take
observations for longitude and latitude to-night, though they may be the
last. I feel quite calm now, thank God.” The next day he superintended
the crossing of the river, under the ægis of natives armed to the teeth,
reserving for himself the post of honour, the last man in the last
canoe. He stepped in, pushed off, thanked the astonished savages, and
wished them peace. Then “passing through the midst of them, he went his
way.” They had never seen an enemy like this. New perils arose in the
country of the powerful chief Mpende; and again Livingstone had little
hope of avoiding a skirmish. But he succeeds in explaining that he is an
Englishman, and shows them his white skin. “No,” said they, “we never
saw skin so white as that. You must be one of the tribe that loves the
black men.” He accepted the compliment, and when later he needed a canoe
to take a sick man across the river, Mpende, exclaimed, “this white man
is truly one of our friends. See how he lets me know his afflictions.”
He was now on the south side of the river, and the natives were
peaceful. The 2nd of March saw the expedition within eight miles of
Tette, and Portuguese officers came forward to help and welcome him. He
succeeded in making arrangements for his Makololo to be cared for until
his return, for he could now descend the river by boat to Quilimane.
Nothing but death, he told them, would prevent his return. The leader of
his escort, however, Sekwebu, he had resolved to take to England with
him. The result was tragic. The extraordinary experience of a sea
voyage unhinged his reason; and when Mauritius was reached, he sprang
overboard and was lost. On December 12th, 1856, David Livingstone
reached Dover, having narrowly escaped shipwreck off the Bay of Tunis,
and having crossed the Continent from Marseilles to Calais. He had
girdled Africa from West to East. He was universally recognised as the
greatest of explorers. Well might Dr. Moffat write to him, “the honours
awaiting you at home would be enough to make a score of light heads
dizzy.... You have succeeded beyond the most sanguine expectation in
laying open a world of immortal beings, all needing the Gospel, and at a
time, now that war is over, when people may exert their energies on an
object compared with which that which has occupied the master minds of
Europe, and expended so much money, and shed so much blood, is but a
phantom.” Livingstone’s own simple words are the best conclusion of this
chapter: “None has cause for more abundant gratitude to his fellow-men
and to his Maker than I have; and may God grant that the effect on my
mind be such that I may be more humbly devoted to the service of the
Author of all our mercies.”