Dr. Livingstone rapidly sinking. Last entries in his diary. Susi
and Chumah's additional details. Great agony in his last
illness. Carried across rivers and through flood. Inquiries for
the Hill of the Four Rivers. Kalunganjovu's kindness. Crosses
the Mohlamo into the district of Ilala in great pain. Arrives at
Chitambo's village. Chitambo comes to visit the dying traveller.
The last night. Livingstone expires in the act of praying. The
account of what the men saw. Remarks on his death. Council of
the men. Leaders selected. The chief discovers that his guest is
dead. Noble conduct of Chitambo. A separate village built by the
men wherein to prepare the body for transport. The preparation
of the corpse. Honour shown by the natives to Dr. Livingstone.
Additional remarks on the cause of death. Interment of the heart
at Chitambo's in Ilala of the Wabisa. An inscription and
memorial sign-posts left to denote spot.
[We have now arrived at the last words written in Dr. Livingstone's
diary: a copy of the two pages in his pocket-book which contains them is,
by the help of photography, set before the reader. It is evident that he
was unable to do more than make the shortest memoranda, and to mark on
the map which he was making the streams which enter the Lake as he
crossed them. From the _22nd_ to the _27th_ April he had not strength to
write down anything but the several dates. Fortunately Susi and Chumah
give a very clear and circumstantial account of every incident which
occurred on these days, and we shall therefore add what they say, after
each of the Doctor's entries. He writes:--]
_21st April, 1873._--Tried to ride, but was forced to lie down, and they
carried me back to vil. exhausted.
[The men explain this entry thus:--This morning the Doctor tried if he
were strong enough to ride on the donkey, but he had only gone a short
distance when he fell to the ground utterly exhausted and faint. Susi
immediately undid his belt and pistol, and picked up his cap which had
dropped off, while Chumah threw down his gun and ran to stop the men on
ahead. When he got back the Doctor said, "Chumah, I have lost so much
blood, there is no more strength left in my legs: you must carry me." He
was then assisted gently to his shoulders, and, holding the man's head
to steady himself, was borne back to the village and placed in the hut
he had so recently left. It was necessary to let the Chief Muanazawamba
know what had happened, and for this purpose Dr. Livingstone despatched
a messenger. He was directed to ask him to supply a guide for the next
day, as he trusted then to have recovered so far as to be able to march:
the answer was, "Stay as long as you wish, and when you want guides to
Kalunganjovu's you shall have them."]
_22nd April, 1873._--Carried on kitanda over Buga S.W. 2-1/4.[33]
[His servants say that instead of rallying, they saw that his strength
was becoming less and less, and in order to carry him they made a
kitanda of wood, consisting of two side pieces of seven feet in length,
crossed with rails three feet long, and about four inches apart, the
whole lashed strongly together. This framework was covered with grass,
and a blanket laid on it. Slung from a pole, and borne between two
strong men, it made a tolerable palanquin, and on this the exhausted
traveller was conveyed to the next village through a flooded grass
plain. To render the kitanda more comfortable another blanket was
suspended across the pole, so as to hang down on either side, and allow
the air to pass under whilst the sun's rays were fended off fromthe
sick man. The start was deferred this morning until the dew was off the
heads of the long grass sufficiently to ensure his being kept tolerably
dry.
The excruciating pains of his dysenteric malady caused him the greatest
exhaustion as they marched, and they were glad enough to reach another
village in 2-1/4 hours, having travelled S.W. from the last point. Here
another hut was built. The name of the halting-place is not remembered
by the men, for the villagers fled at their approach; indeed the noise
made by the drums sounding the alarm had been caught by the Doctor some
time before, and he exclaimed with thankfulness on hearing it, "Ah, now
we are near!" Throughout this day the following men acted as bearers of
the kitanda: Chowpéré, Songolo, Chumah, and Adiamberi. Sowféré, too,
joined in at one time.]
_23rd April, 1873._--(No entry except the date.)
[They advanced another hour and a half through the same expanse of
flooded treeless waste, passing numbers of small fish-weirs set in such
a manner as to catch the fish on their way back to the Lake, but seeing
nothing of the owners, who had either hidden themselves or taken to
flight on the approach of the caravan. Another village afforded them a
night's shelter, but it seems not to be known by any particular name.]
_24th April, 1873._--(No entry except the date.)
[But one hour's march was accomplished to-day, and again they halted
amongst some huts--place unknown. His great prostration made progress
exceedingly painful, and frequently when it was necessary to stop the
bearers of the kitanda, Chumah had to support the Doctor from falling.]
_25th April, 1873._--(No entry except the date.)
[In an hour's course S.W. they arrived at a village in which they found
a few people. Whilst his servants were busy completing the hut for the
night's encampment, the Doctor, who was lying in a shady place on the
kitanda, ordered them to fetch one of the villagers. The chief of the
place had disappeared, but the rest of his people seemed quite at their
ease, and drew near to hear what was going to be said. They were asked
whether they knew of a hill on which four rivers took their rise. The
spokesman answered that they had no knowledge of it; they themselves,
said he, were not travellers, and all those who used to go on trading
expeditions were now dead. In former years Malenga's town, Kutchinyama,
was the assembling place of the Wabisa traders, but these had been swept
off by the Mazitu. Such as survived had to exist as best they could
amongst the swamps and inundated districts around the Lake. Whenever an
expedition was organised to go to the coast, or in any other direction,
travellers met at Malenga's town to talk over the route to be taken:
then would have been the time, said they, to get information about every
part. Dr. Livingstone was here obliged to dismiss them, and explained
that he was too ill to continue talking, but he begged them to bring as
much food as they could for sale to Kalunganjovu's.]
_26th April, 1873._--(No entry except the date.)
[They proceeded as far as Kalunganjovu's town, the chief himself coming
to meet them on the way dressed in Arab costume and wearing a red fez.
Whilst waiting here Susi was instructed to count over the bags of beads,
and, on reporting that twelve still remained in stock, Dr. Livingstone
told him to buy two large tusks if an opportunity occurred, as he might
run short of goods by the time they got to Ujiji, and could then
exchange them with the Arabs there for cloth, to spend on their way to
Zanzibar.]
To-day, the _27th April, 1873,_ he seems to have been almost dying. No
entry at all was made in his diary after that which follows, and it must
have taxed him to the utmost to write:--
"Knocked up quite, and remain--recover--sent to buy milch goats. We are
on the banks of the Molilamo."
They are the last words that David Livingstone wrote.
From this point we have to trust entirely to the narrative of the men.
They explain the above sentence as follows: Salimané, Amisi, Hamsani,
and Laedé, accompanied by a guide, were sent off to endeavour if
possible to buy some milch goats on the upper part of the Molilamo.[34]
They could not, however, succeed; it was always the same story--the
Mazitu had taken everything. The chief, nevertheless, sent a substantial
present of a kid and three baskets of ground-nuts, and the people were
willing enough to exchange food for beads. Thinking he could eat some
Mapira corn pounded up with ground-nuts, the Doctor gave instructions to
the two women M'sozi and M'toweka, to prepare it for him, but he was not
able to take it when they brought it to him.
_28th April, 1873._--Men were now despatched in an opposite direction,
that is to visit the villages on the right bank of the Molilamo as it
flows to the Lake; unfortunately they met with no better result, and
returned empty handed.
On the _29th April_, Kalunganjovu and most of his people came early to
the village. The chief wished to assist his guest to the utmost, and
stated that as he could not be sure that a sufficient number of canoes
would be forthcoming unless he took charge of matters himself, he should
accompany the caravan to the crossing place, which was about an hour's
march from the spot. "Everything should be done for his friend," he
said.
They were ready to set out. On Susi's going to the hut, Dr. Livingstone
told him that he was quite unable to walk to the door to reach the
kitanda, and he wished the men to break down one side of the little
house, as the entrance was too narrow to admit it, and in this manner to
bring it to him where he was: this was done, and he was gently placed
upon it, and borne out of the village.
Their course was in the direction of the stream, and they followed it
till they came to a reach where the current was uninterrupted by the
numerous little islands which stood partly in the river and partly in
the flood on the upper waters. Kalunganjovu was seated on a knoll, and
actively superintended the embarkation, whilst Dr. Livingstone told his
bearers to take him to a tree at a little distance off, that he might
rest in the shade till most of the men were on the other side. A good
deal of care was required, for the river, by no means a large one in
ordinary times, spread its waters in all directions, so that a false
step, or a stumble in any unseen hole, would have drenched the invalid
and the bed also on which he was carried.
The passage occupied some time, and then came the difficult task of
conveying the Doctor across, for the canoes were not wide enough to
allow the kitanda to be deposited in the bottom of either of them.
Hitherto, no matter how weak, Livingstone had always been able to sit in
the various canoes they had used on like occasions, but now he had no
power to do so. Taking his bed off the kitanda, they laid it in the
bottom of the strongest canoe, and tried to lift him; but he could not
bear the pain of a hand being passed under his back. Beckoning to
Chumah, in a faint voice he asked him to stoop down over him as low as
possible, so that he might clasp his hands together behind his head,
directing him at the same how to avoid putting any pressure on the
lumbar region of the back; in this way he was deposited in the bottom of
the canoe, and quickly ferried across the Mulilamo by Chowpéré, Susi,
Farijala, and Chumah. The same precautions were used on the other side:
the kitanda was brought close to the canoe, so as to prevent any
unnecessary pain in disembarking.
Susi now hurried on ahead to reach Chitambo's village, and superintend
the building of another house. For the first mile or two they had to
carry the Doctor through swamps and plashes, glad to reach something
like a dry plain at last.
It would seem that his strength was here at its very lowest ebb. Chumah,
one of his bearers on these the last weary miles the great traveller was
destined to accomplish, says that they were every now and then implored
to stop and place their burden on the ground. So great were the pangs of
his disease during this day that he could make no attempt to stand, and
if lifted for a few yards a drowsiness came over him, which alarmed them
all excessively. This was specially the case at one spot where a tree
stood in the path. Here one of his attendants was called to him, and, on
stooping down, he found him unable to speak from faintness. They
replaced him in the kitanda, and made the best of their way on the
journey. Some distance further on great thirst oppressed him; he asked
them if they had any water, but, unfortunately for once, not a drop was
to be procured. Hastening on for fear of getting too far separated from
the party in advance, to their great comfort they now saw Farijala
approaching with some which Susi had thoughtfully sent off from
Chitambo's village.
Still wending their way on, it seemed as if they would not complete
their task, for again at a clearing the sick man entreated them to place
him on the ground, and to let him stay where he was. Fortunately at this
moment some of the outlying huts of the village came in sight, and they
tried to rally him by telling him that he would quickly be in the house
that the others had gone on to build, but they were obliged as it was to
allow him to remain for an hour in the native gardens outside the town.
On reaching their companions it was found that the work was not quite
finished, and it became necessary therefore to lay him under the broad
eaves of a native hut till things were ready.
Chitambo's village at this time was almost empty. When the crops are
growing it is the custom to erect little temporary houses in the fields,
and the inhabitants, leaving their more substantial huts, pass the time
in watching their crops, which are scarcely more safe by day than by
night; thus it was that the men found plenty of room and shelter ready
to their hand. Many of the people approached the spot where he lay whose
praises had reached them in previous years, and in silent wonder they
stood round him resting on their bows. Slight drizzling showers were
falling, and as soon as possible his house was made ready and banked
round with earth.
Inside it, the bed was raised from the floor by sticks and grass,
occuping a position across and near to the bay-shaped end of the hut: in
the bay itself bales and boxes were deposited, one of the latter doing
duty for a table, on which the medicine chest and sundry other things
were placed. A fire was lighted outside, nearly opposite the door,
whilst the boy Majwara slept just within to attend to his master's wants
in the night.
On the _30th April, 1873,_ Chitambo came early to pay a visit of
courtesy, and was shown into the Doctor's presence, but he was obliged
to send him away, telling him to come again on the morrow, when he hoped
to have more strength to talk to him, and he was not again disturbed. In
the afternoon he asked Susi to bring his watch to the bedside, and
explained to him the position in which to hold his hand, that it might
lie in the palm whilst he slowly turned the key.
So the hours stole on till nightfall. The men silently took to their
huts, whilst others, whose duty it was to keep watch, sat round the
fires, all feeling that the end could not be far off. About 11 P.M.
Susi, whose hut was close by, was told to go to his master. At the time
there were loud shouts in the distance, and, on entering, Dr.
Livingstone said, "Are our men making that noise?" "No," replied Susi;
"I can hear from the cries that the people are scaring away a buffalo
from their dura fields." A few minutes afterwards he said slowly, and
evidently wandering, "Is this the Luapula?" Susi told him they were in
Chitambo's village, near the Mulilamo, when he was silent for a while.
Again, speaking to Susi, in Suaheli this time, he said, "Sikun'gapi
kuenda Luapula?" (How many days is it to the Luapula?)
"Na zani zikutatu, Bwana" (I think it is three days, master), replied
Susi.
A few seconds after, as if in great pain, he half sighed, half said, "Oh
dear, dear!" and then dozed off again.
It was about an hour later that Susi heard Majwara again outside the
door, "Bwana wants you, Susi." On reaching the bed the Doctor told him
he wished him to boil some water, and for this purpose he went to the
fire outside, and soon returned with the copper kettle full. Calling him
close, he asked him to bring his medicine-chest and to hold the candle
near him, for the man noticed he could hardly see. With great difficulty
Dr. Livingstone selected the calomel, which he told him to place by his
side; then, directing him to pour a little water into a cup, and to put
another empty one by it, he said in a low feeble voice, "All right; you
can go out now." These were the last words he was ever heard to speak.
It must have been about 4 A.M. when Susi heard Majwara's step once
more. "Come to Bwana, I am afraid; I don't know if he is alive." The
lad's evident alarm made Susi run to arouse Chumah, Chowperé, Matthew,
and Muanyaséré, and the six men went immediately to the hut.
Passing inside they looked towards the bed. Dr. Livingstone was not
lying on it, but appeared to be engaged in prayer, and they
instinctively drew backwards for the instant. Pointing to him, Majwara
said, "When I lay down he was just as he is now, and it is because I
find that he does not move that I fear he is dead." They asked the lad
how long he had slept? Majwara said he could not tell, but he was sure
that it was some considerable time: the men drew nearer.
A candle stuck by its own wax to the top of the box, shed a light
sufficient for them to see his form. Dr. Livingstone was kneeling by the
side of his bed, his body stretched forward, his head buried in his
hands upon the pillow. For a minute they watched him: he did not stir,
there was no sign of breathing; then one of them, Matthew, advanced
softly to him and placed his hands to his cheeks. It was sufficient;
life had been extinct some time, and the body was almost cold:
Livingstone was dead.
His sad-hearted servants raised him tenderly up, and laid him full
length on the bed, then, carefully covering him, they went out into the
damp night air to consult together. It was not long before the cocks
crew, and it is from this circumstance--coupled with the fact that Susi
spoke to him some time shortly before midnight--that we are able to
state with tolerable certainty that he expired early on the 1st of May.
It has been thought best to give the narrative of these closing hours as
nearly as possible in the words of the two men who attended him
constantly, both here and in the many illnesses of like character which
he endured in his last six years' wanderings; in fact from the first
moment of the news arriving in England, it was felt to be indispensable
that they should come home to state what occurred.
* * * * *
The men have much to consider as they cower around the watch-fire, and
little time for deliberation. They are at their furthest point from home
and their leader has fallen at their head; we shall see presently how
they faced their difficulties.
* * * * *
Several inquiries will naturally arise on reading this distressing
history; the foremost, perhaps, will be with regard to the entire
absence of everything like a parting word to those immediately about
him, or a farewell line to his family and friends at home. It must be
very evident to the reader that Livingstone entertained very grave
forebodings about his health during the last two years of his life, but
it is not clear that he realized the near approach of death when his
malady suddenly passed into a more dangerous stage.
It may be said, "Why did he not take some precautions or give some
strict injunctions to his men to preserve his note-books and maps, at
all hazards, in the event of his decease? Did not his great ruling
passion suggest some such precaution?"
Fair questions, but, reader, you have all--every word written, spoken,
or implied.
Is there, then, no explanation? Yes; we think past experience affords
it, and it is offered to you by one who remembers moreover how
Livingstone himself used to point out to him in Africa the peculiar
features of death by malarial poisoning.
In full recollection of eight deaths in the Zambesi and Shiré districts,
not a single parting word or direction in any instance can be recalled.
Neither hope nor courage give way as death approaches. In most cases a
comatose state of exhaustion supervenes, which, if it be not quickly
arrested by active measures, passes into complete insensibility: this is
almost invariably the closing scene.
In Dr. Livingstone's case we find some departure from the ordinary
symptoms.[35] He, as we have seen by the entry of the 18th April was
alive to the conviction that malarial poison is the basis of every
disorder in Tropical Africa, and he did not doubt but that he was fully
under its influence whilst suffering so severely. As we have said, a man
of less endurance in all probability would have perished in the first
week of the terrible approach to the Lake, through the flooded country
and under the continual downpour that he describes. It tried every
constitution, saturated every man with fever poison, and destroyed
several, as we shall see a little further on. The greater vitality in
his iron system very likely staved off for a few days the last state of
coma to which we refer, but there is quite sufficient to show us that
only a thin margin lay between the heavy drowsiness of the last few days
before reaching Chitambo's and the final and usual symptom that brings
on unconsciousness and inability to speak.
On more closely questioning the men one only elicits that they imagine
he hoped to recover as he had so often done before, and if this really
was the case it will in a measure account for the absence of anything
like a dying statement, but still they speak again and again of his
drowsiness, which in itself would take away all ability to realize
vividly the seriousness of the situation. It may be that at the last a
flash of conviction for a moment lit up the mind--if so, what greater
consolation can those have who mourn his loss, than the account that the
men give of what they saw when they entered the hut?
Livingstone had not merely turned himself, he had risento pray; he
still rested on his knees, his hands were clasped under his head: when
they approached him he seemed to live. He had not fallen to right or
left when he rendered up his spirit to God. Death required no change of
limb or position; there was merely the gentle settling forwards of the
frame unstrung by pain, for the Traveller's perfect rest had come. Will
not time show that the men were scarcely wrong when they thought "he yet
speaketh"--aye, perhaps far more clearly to us than he could have done
by word or pen or any other means!
Is it, then, presumptuous to think that the long-used fervent prayer of
the wanderer sped forth once more--that the constant supplication became
more perfect in weakness, and that from his "loneliness" David
Livingstone, with a dying effort, yet again besought Him for whom He
laboured to break down the oppression and woe of the land?
* * * * *
Before daylight the men were quietly told in each hut what had happened,
and that they were to assemble. Coming together as soon as it was light
enough to see, Susi and Chumah said that they wished everybody to be
present whilst the boxes were opened, so that in case money or valuables
were in them, all might be responsible. Jacob Wainwright (who could
write, they knew) was asked to make some notes which should serve as an
inventory, and then the boxes were brought out from the hut.
Before he left England in 1865, Dr. Livingstone arranged that his
travelling equipment should be as compact as possible. An old friend
gave him some exceedingly well-made tin-boxes, two of which lasted out
the whole of his travels. In these his papers and instruments were safe
from wet and from white ants, which have to be guarded against more than
anything else. Besides the articles mentioned below, a number of letters
and despatches in various stages were likewise enclosed, and one can
never sufficiently extol the good feeling which after his death
invested all these writings with something like a sacred care in the
estimation of his men. It was the Doctor's custom to carry a small
metallic note-book in his pocket: a quantity of these have come to hand
filled from end to end, and as the men preserved every one that they
found, we have a daily entry to fall back upon. Nor was less care shown
for his rifles, sextants, his Bible and Church-service, and the medicine
chest.
Jacob's entry is as follows, and it was thoughtfully made at the back
end of the same note-book that was in use by the Doctor when he died. It
runs as follows:--
"11 o'clock night, 28th April.
"In the chest was found about a shilling and half, and in other chest
his hat, 1 watch, and 2 small boxes of measuring instrument, and in each
box there was one. 1 compass, 3 other kind of measuring instrument. 4
other kind of measuring instrument. And in other chest 3 drachmas and
half half scrople."
A word is necessary concerning the first part of this. It will be
observed that Dr. Livingstone made his last note on the 27th April.
Jacob, referring to it as the only indication of the day of the month,
and fancying, moreover, that it was written on the _preceding day,_
wrote down "28th April." Had he observed that the few words opposite the
27th in the pocket-book related to the stay at Kalunganjovu's village,
and not to any portion of the time at Chitambo's, the error would have
been avoided. Again, with respect to the time. It was about 11 o'clock
P.M. when Susi last saw his master alive, and therefore this time is
noted, but both he and Chumah feel quite sure, from what Majwara said,
that death did not take place till some hours after.
It was not without some alarm that the men realised their more
immediate difficulties: none could see better than they what
complications might arise in an hour.
They knew the superstitious horror connected with the dead to be
prevalent in the tribes around them, for the departed spirits of men are
universally believed to have vengeance and mischief at heart as their
ruling idea in the land beyond the grave. All rites turn on this belief.
The religion of the African is a weary attempt to propitiate those who
show themselves to be still able to haunt and destroy, as war comes or
an accident happens.
On this account it is not to be wondered at that chief and people make
common cause against those who wander through their territory, and have
the misfortune to lose one of their party by death. Who is to tell the
consequences? Such occurrences are looked on as most serious offences,
and the men regarded their position with no small apprehension.
Calling the whole party together, Susi and Chumah placed the state of
affairs before them, and asked what should be done. They received a
reply from those whom Mr. Stanley had engaged for Dr. Livingstone, which
was hearty and unanimous. "You," said they, "are old men in travelling
and in hardships; you must act as our chiefs, and we will promise to
obey whatever you order us to do." From this moment we may look on Susi
and Chumah as the Captains of the caravan. To their knowledge of the
country, of the tribes through which they were to pass, but, above all,
to the sense of discipline and cohesion which was maintained throughout,
their safe return to Zanzibar at the head of their men must, under God's
good guidance, be mainly attributed.
All agreed that Chitambo ought to be kept in ignorance of Dr.
Livingstone's decease, or otherwise a fine so heavy would be inflicted
upon them as compensation for damage done that their means would be
crippled, and they could hardly expect to pay their way to the coast. It
was decided that, come what might, the body _must be borne to Zanzibar._
It was also arranged to take it secretly, if possible, to a hut at some
distance off, where the necessary preparations could be carried out, and
for this purpose some men were now despatched with axes to cut wood,
whilst others went to collect grass. Chumah set off to see Chitambo, and
said that they wanted to build a place outside the village, if he would
allow it, for they did not like living amongst the huts. His consent was
willingly given.
Later on in the day two of the men went to the people to buy food, and
divulged the secret: the chief was at once informed of what had
happened, and started for the spot on which the new buildings were being
set up. Appealing to Chumah, he said, "Why did you not tell me the
truth? I know that your master died last night. You were afraid to let
me know, but do not fear any longer. I, too, have travelled, and more
than once have been to Bwani (the Coast), before the country on the road
was destroyed by the Mazitu. I know that you have no bad motives in
coming to our land, and death often happens to travellers in their
journeys." Reassured by this speech, they told him of their intention to
prepare the body and to take it with them. He, however, said it would be
far better to bury it there, for they were undertaking an impossible
task; but they held to their resolution. The corpse was conveyed to the
new hut the same day on the kitanda carefully covered with cloth and a
blanket.
_2nd May, 1873._--The next morning Susi paid a visit to Chitambo, making
him a handsome present and receiving in return a kind welcome. It is
only right to add, that the men speak on all occasions with gratitude of
Chitambo's conduct throughout, and say that he is a fine generous
fellow. Following out his suggestion, it was agreed that all honours
should be shown to the dead, and the customary mourning was arranged
forthwith.
At the proper time, Chitambo, leading his people, and accompanied by his
wives, came to the new settlement. He was clad in a broad red cloth,
which covered the shoulders, whilst the wrapping of native cotton cloth,
worn round the waist, fell as low as his ankles. All carried bows,
arrows, and spears, but no guns were seen. Two drummers joined in the
loud wailing lamentation, which so indelibly impresses itself on the
memories of people who have heard it in the East, whilst the band of
servants fired volley after volley in the air, according to the strict
rule of Portuguese and Arabs on such occasions.
As yet nothing had been done to the corpse.
A separate hut was now built, about ninety feet from the principal one.
It was constructed in such a manner that it should be open to the air at
the top, and sufficiently strong to defy the attempts of any wild beast
to break through it. Firmly driven boughs and saplings were planted side
by side and bound together, so as to make a regular stockade. Close to
this building the men constructed their huts, and, finally, the whole
settlement had another high stockade carried completely around it.
Arrangements were made the same day to treat the corpse on the following
morning. One of the men, Saféné, whilst in Kalunganjovu's district,
bought a large quantity of salt: this was purchased of him for sixteen
strings of beads, there was besides some brandy in the Doctor's stores,
and with these few materials they hoped to succeed in their object.
Farijala was appointed to the necessary task. He had picked up some
knowledge of the method pursued in making _post-mortem_ examinations,
whilst a servant to a doctor at Zanzibar, and at his request, Carras,
one of the Nassick boys, was told off to assist him. Previous to this,
however, early on the 3rd May, a special mourner arrived. He came with
the anklets which are worn on these occasions, composed of rows of
hollow seed-vessels, fitted with rattling pebbles, and in low monotonous
chant sang, whilst he danced, as follows:
Lélo kwa Engérésé,
Muana sisi oa konda:
Tu kamb' tamb' Engérésé.
which translated is--
To-day the Englishman is dead,
Who has different hair from ours:
Come round to see the Englishman.
His task over, the mourner and his son, who accompanied him in the
ceremony, retired with a suitable present of beads.
The emaciated remains of the deceased traveller were soon afterwards
taken to the place prepared. Over the heads of Farijala and
Carras--Susi, Chumah, and Muanyaséré held a thick blanket as a kind of
screen, under which the men performed their duties. Tofiké and John
Wainwright were present. Jacob Wainwright had been asked to bring his
Prayer Book with him, and stood apart against the wall of the enclosure.
In reading about the lingering sufferings of Dr. Livingstone as
described by himself, and subsequently by these faithful fellows, one is
quite prepared to understand their explanation, and to see why it was
possible to defer these operations so long after death: they say that
his frame was little more than skin and bone. Through an incision
carefully made, the viscera were removed, and a quantity of salt was
placed in the trunk. All noticed one very significant circumstance in
the autopsy. A clot of coagulated blood, as large as a man's hand, lay
in the left side,[36] whilst Farijalapointed to the state of the lungs,
which they describe as dried up, and covered with black and white
patches.
The heart, with the other parts removed, were placed in a tin box, which
had formerly contained flour, and decently and reverently buried in a
hole dug some four feet deep on the spot where they stood. Jacob was
then asked to read the Burial Service, which he did in the presence of
all. The body was left to be fully exposed to the sun. No other means
were taken to preserve it, beyond placing some brandy in the mouth and
some on the hair; nor can one imagine for an instant that any other
process would have been available either for Europeans or natives,
considering the rude appliances at their disposal. The men kept watch
day and night to see that no harm came to their sacred charge. Their
huts surrounded the building, and had force been used to enter its
strongly-barred door, the whole camp would have turned out in a moment.
Once a day the position of the body was changed, but at no other time
was any one allowed to approach it.
No molestation of any kind took place during the fourteen days'
exposure. At the end of this period preparations were made for retracing
their steps. The corpse, by this time tolerably dried, was wrapped round
in some calico, the leg being bent inwards at the knees to shorten the
package. The next thing was to plan something in which to carry it, and,
in the absence of planking or tools, an admirable substitute was found
by stripping from a Myonga tree enough of the bark in one piece to form
a cylinder, and in it their master was laid. Over this case a piece of
sailcloth was sewn, and the whole package was lashed securely to a pole,
so as to be carried by two men.
Jacob Wainwright was asked to carve an inscription on the large Mvula
tree which stands by the place where the body rested, stating the name
of Dr. Livingstone and the date of his death, and, before leaving, the
men gave strict injunctions to Chitambo to keep the grass cleared away,
so as to save it from the bush-fires which annually sweep over the
country and destroy so many trees. Besides this, they erected close to
the spot two high thick posts, with an equally strong cross-piece, like
a lintel and door-posts in form, which they painted thoroughly with the
tar that was intended for the boat: this sign they think will remain for
a long time from the solidity of the timber. Before parting with
Chitambo, they gave him a large tin biscuit-box and some newspapers,
which would serve as evidence to all future travellers that a white man
had been at his village.
The chief promised to do all he could to keep both the tree and the
timber sign-posts from being touched, but added, that he hoped the
English would not be long in coming to see him, because there was always
the risk of an invasion of Mazitu, when he would have to fly, and the
tree might be cut down for a canoe by some one, and then all trace would
be lost. All was now ready for starting.
FOOTNOTES:
[33] Two hours and a quarter in a south-westerly direction.
[34] The name Molilamo is allowed to stand, but in Dr. Livingstone's
Map we find it Lulimala, and the men confirm, this pronunciation.--ED.
[35] The great loss of blood may have had a bearing on the case.
[36] It has been suggested by one who attended Dr. Livingstone
professionally in several dangerous illnesses in Africa, that the
ultimate cause of death was acute splenitis.--ED.