IN THE HEART OF AFRICA
In March 1866 Livingstone landed near the mouth of the Rovuma, and,
at the age of fifty-three, began the seven long years of hardship,
misery, and pain that wore him to his death. Thirty-six bearers came
with him, of whom thirteen were Sepoys from Bombay, and ten were
natives of Johanna. Livingstone was very anxious to find some beast
of burden which could stand the poison of the tsetse-fly; and for
this experiment he brought with him some camels, Indian buffaloes,
mules, donkeys, and a calf. Carrying stores was the great difficulty
in his travels, and a few hardy beasts of burden, instead of a number
of unruly knaves, would have saved him from the terrible want he
afterwards had to suffer.
It was not long before his troubles began. The Sepoys had charge of
the animals, and neglected them so shamefully that one by one the
poor creatures died. Livingstone found he could not trust one of the
thirteen out of his sight, and at last they grew so troublesome that
he sent them back to the sea. His next discovery was that the ten
natives from Johanna were rascals and thieves; and one of them, Musa,
who had worked in the _Lady Nyassa_, turned out the worst of the lot.
Moreover, the country had been ravaged by slavers, and food grew
scarcer and scarcer, till at length they lived mainly on maize and
the few pigeons and guinea-fowl shot by the way.
The signs of the slave trade were terrible. Here, as in the valley
of the Shiré, nothing seemed too brutal to be done. Even women were
tied to trees and left to starve, because they were too worn out to
trudge any longer.
Most of the slavers in this district were Arabs, and they did all
they could to make trouble for Livingstone. He reached Nyassa in
August, at a point half-way up its eastern shore, and here he wanted
to cross; but all the boats were in the hands of the slavers, and
Livingstone could get nothing to take him over.
Determined not to be beaten, he walked round the south end of the
lake, and, on crossing the Shiré, he came upon ground that he had
passed before. Old times and old friends came into his mind, and he
wondered sadly if all their labour had been wasted. He thought also
of his faithful Makololo, and longed to have them in the place of his
present bearers.
After passing round the south end of Lake Nyassa, he took a
north-westerly direction, and came to the village of a chief named
Marenga. Here they met an Arab slaver, who cunningly invented a
story in the hope of frightening Livingstone's bearers from going any
farther. He told Musa that a savage Mazitu chief was in front of
them, killing all who passed his borders, with great cruelty. Musa
believed this story, and refused to go onward. Livingstone tried to
convince the coward that there were no Mazitu in the district, but
all his efforts were useless. Musa and the other nine Johanna
natives deserted in a body; but the rest of the bearers, much to the
Arab's disappointment, remained faithful.
From Marenga's Livingstone pushed on towards Lake Tanganyika, and his
hardships daily grew greater. Owing to the slave trade, food was
scarce, and the natives had little to sell. For many days the
explorer lived on African maize, helped down with milk from some
goats he had brought for the purpose. The next misfortune was the
loss of his goats, and this left him to break and loosen his teeth on
the tough, hard maize, while he dreamed of delicious and savoury
dinners.
This want of food made him very weak, and, moreover, the toils of the
march were great. Often he had to wade through marshes up to the
waist; and after the burning day, with its clouds of flies, there
came the damp heat of night, with clouds of mosquitoes bringing fever
in their poisonous bite. All this was trouble enough, but worse
still happened.
[Illustration: Often he had to wade through marshes up to the waist.]
One day a native bearer, possibly bribed by a slaver, disappeared
with Livingstone's medicine-chest, and he was now left defenceless
against fever. Soon he became so ill that he sometimes lay
insensible on the ground; but still his pluck carried him through,
and at last, in April 1867, he reached Chitembé's village, on Lake
Tanganyika, where he found rest and better food.
Meanwhile, Musa and the other Johanna natives had gone back to
Zanzibar. They knew they would get no pay if their bad conduct was
found out, so they swore that Livingstone was dead, and therefore
they were obliged to return. Musa made up a clever story describing
how Livingstone had been attacked by natives, and had died fighting
bravely, while the faithful Johanna men, after escaping from the
fight, had returned at nightfall to bury their beloved master. Musa
repeated this lie so skilfully that every one believed him; and even
Dr. Kirk, who was now at Zanzibar, was taken in completely. The tale
was told at home in the papers, and all his countrymen were grieving
for his loss, when an Englishman, Edward Young, began to doubt the
story. Young had been on the _Lady Nyassa_ with Musa, and knew that
the rascal's word could never be trusted. He laughed at the idea of
a coward like Musa returning after a fight to bury any one, and he
found other faults in his story.
At last the Royal Geographical Society sent Young to Africa to find
out the truth. He went up the Shiré in a steel boat called the
_Search_, and his bearers carried her in pieces past the Murchison
Cataracts. Then, launching her again on the Upper Shiré, he made his
way by Lake Nyassa to Marenga's country. Here he found out the utter
falsehood of Musa's story, and learnt that Livingstone had been seen
alive on his way to Tanganyika.
Young now returned to England; and, though his news was mainly good,
yet many people were still very anxious about the explorer's safety.
In one way Musa had done his master a good turn without the least
intention. For so much had been said in the papers about
Livingstone, that people began to see how great was his work and how
noble his life.
All this time Livingstone knew nothing either of Musa's lies or of
Young's gallant search. While at Chitembé's village he heard of a
chain of lakes joined by a big river, and he started westward to find
them. Slave-raiding was going on all over the country that lay
before him; but in spite of this Livingstone discovered Lake Moero,
in November 1867, after suffering terribly from illness and want of
food. A beautiful river, called the Luapula, ran into the lake at
the south, and out again to the north. Down stream, to the
northward, the natives said the Luapula reached a long lake of many
islands; while up stream, to the southward, they said it came from a
large lake, called Bangweolo.
Livingstone decided to look for Bangweolo first. Setting out from
Moero in a southerly course, he came to the village of Kazembé, a
chief who punished his people by cutting off their hands and ears.
At Kazembé's he fell in with an Arab trader, Mohammed Bogharib, who
at once took a great liking to the explorer. Mohammed asked him to
dine, and Livingstone sat down on a mat to a feast of vermicelli and
oil, meal cakes and honey; and then, the first time for many months,
he warmed his heart with a bowl of good coffee and sugar.
From the accounts of the natives, Bangweolo was only ten days' march
from Kazembé's, but now Livingstone's bearers refused to go onward.
Five only remained faithful to the kindest master they ever had, and
with these the journey was begun. It was the same tale of hardship
and toil, want and suffering; and, since the theft of his
medicine-chest, there was nothing to soothe the fever or ease the
pain. Yet through all this his patient faith and quiet valour
carried him on, and, in July 1868, he came upon the beautiful Lake
Bangweolo. There were islands dotted about in it, and Livingstone
visited some of them in a native canoe; but, when he wanted to paddle
across the lake, his canoe-men refused. They were afraid of being
made slaves.
Indeed, the curse of slavery seemed everywhere in the land. On his
way to Bangweolo, Livingstone had passed some slaves trudging along
in their slave-sticks, yet singing as they went. Their only hope was
death; and they were looking forward with revengeful joy, because
they ignorantly believed their spirits could return and kill their
captors. The meaning of their chant was, "Oh, you send me to the
sea-coast, but my yoke is off in death; back I'll come to haunt and
kill you." Then, as a chorus, they hissed between their teeth in
bitter hatred the names of those who had robbed them of their freedom.
Livingstone now struggled back to Kazembé's, utterly worn out with
toil, hunger, and fever. Here he found Mohammed Bogharib on the
point of returning to Ujiji, and he gladly accepted the Arab's kind
offer of an escort thither. Ujiji stood upon the eastern shore of
Tanganyika, and also was on the main slave-route to Zanzibar. Before
leaving Zanzibar, in the February of 1866, Livingstone had arranged
with Dr. Kirk to send stores, medicine, letters, and newspapers to
await him at Ujiji, and now he looked forward to news of his
children, and relief from sickness and pain.
The journey was a terrible one; for Livingstone grew worse and worse,
till at last he grew dazed with fever and pain, and lost count of the
days. Mohammed saved his life by having him carried in a hammock
till they reached the west shore of Tanganyika, and took canoe to
Ujiji. The voyage of eighteen days, and the hope of his letters and
medicine, revived him greatly, and he landed at Ujiji with joy. But
the two men in charge of his stores had sold nearly all of them for
ivory and slaves, and his medicines and mails had been left at
Unyanyembé, thirteen days distant, while the road there was blocked
by a slave war.
It was now March 1869, and he had not seen a white man's face, or
heard of his children, for three years.