CHAPTER XVII.

FURTHER DETAILS OF THE DEATH OF LIVINGSTONE.

The Last Night -- Expires in the Act of Praying -- Council of the Men

-- Noble Conduct of Chitambo -- The Preparation of the Corpse -- Honor

Shown to Dr. Livingstone -- Interment of the Heart at Chitambo’s --

Homeward March from Ilala -- Illness of all the Men -- Deaths -- The

Luapulu -- Reach Tanganyika -- Leave the Lake -- Cross the

Lambalamfipa Range -- Immense Herds of Game -- News of East Coast

Search Expedition -- Confirmation of News -- Avant-Couriers sent

Forward to Unyanyembe -- Chuma Meets Lieut. Cameron -- Sad Death of

Dr. Dillon -- The Body Effectually Concealed -- Arrival on the Coast.

[We shall now refer to 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 22d to the 27th of April he had not strength

to write down anything but the several dates. Fortunately, Susi and

Chuma 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._--Tried to ride, but was forced to lie down, and they

carried me back to vil. exhausted.

[Illustration: FAC-SIMILE OF THE LAST ENTRIES IN DR. LIVINGSTONE’S

NOTE-BOOK.]

[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 Chuma threw down his gun, and ran to stop the men

on ahead. When he got back, the Doctor said, “Chuma, 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 Muanzambamba

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.”]

_22d April._--Carried on kitanda over Buga southwest two and a

quarter.[8]

[8] Two hours and a quarter in a south-westerly direction.

[Instead of rallying, his strength was becoming less and less; and in

order to carry him, his servants 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 frame-work was covered with grass, and a blanket laid on it. Slung

from a pole, and born between two strong men, it made a tolerable

palanquin, and on this the exhausted traveler 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 while the

sun’s rays were fended off from the sick man. The start was deferred

this morning until the dew was off the heads of the long grass

sufficiently to insure 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 two hours and a quarter, having traveled southwest from the

last point. Here another hut was built. 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!”]

_23d April._--(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._--(No entry except the date.)

[But one hour’s march was accomplished to-day, and again they halted

among some huts. His great prostration made progress exceedingly

painful, and frequently, when it was necessary to stop the bearers of

the kitanda, Chuma had to support the Doctor from falling.]

_25th April._--(No entry except the date.)

[In an hour’s course southwest they arrived at a village in which they

found a few people. While 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 travelers, 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 among the swamps and inundated districts around the Lake.

Whenever an expedition was organized to go to the coast, or in any other

direction travelers 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._--(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.

While 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, _April 27th, 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: Salimane, Amisi, Hamsani, and Laede,

accompanied by a guide, were sent off to endeavor, if possible, to buy

some milch goats on the upper part of the Molilamo. (The name Molilamo

is allowed to stand, but in Dr. Livingstone’s map we find it Lulimala,

and the men confirm this pronunciation.) 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._--Men were now dispatched 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 _April 29th_, 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, while 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.

A good deal of care was required for 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, Livingstone

had always been able to sit in the various canoes they had used, 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 Chuma, 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 time 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 Molilamo. 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. Chuma,

one of his bearers on these, the last weary miles the great traveler 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 farther 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 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 around him, resting on their bows. Slight drizzling showers

were falling, and as soon as possible his house was made ready, and

banked around with earth.

Inside, the bed was raised from the floor by sticks and grass, occupying

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, while the

boy, Majwara, slept just within, to attend to his master’s wants in the

night.

On _April 30th, 1873_, Chitambo came early to pay a visit of courtesy,

and was shown into the Doctor’s presence; but the Doctor 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 while he slowly turned the key.

So the hours stole on till night-fall. Some of the men silently took to

their huts, while others, whose duty it was to keep watch, sat around

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 afterward he said, slowly, and

evidently wandering, “Is this Luapula?” Susi told him they were in

Chitambo’s village, near the Molilamo, when he was silent for a

while. Again, speaking to Susi, in Suaheli this time, he said, “How

many days is it to the Luapula?” “I think it is three days, master,”

replied Susi.

[Illustration: SUSI AND CHUMA, THE FAST FRIENDS OF LIVINGSTONE.]

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.” The Doctor 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 the Doctor 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 Chuma, Chowpere, Matthew, and

Muanuasere, and the six men went immediately to the hut.

Passing inside, they looked toward the bed. Dr. Livingstone was not

lying on it, but appeared to be engaged in prayer, and they

instinctively drew backward 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 accuracy 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 farthest 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 first, 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 among the peculiar features of death by malarial

poisoning.

In eight deaths on the Zambesi and Shire districts, not a single parting

word or direction in any instance was uttered. 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. The great loss of blood may have had a bearing on the case. He

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 while suffering so severely. 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. 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.

He hoped to recover as he had so often done before; and this in a

measure accounts for the absence of anything like a dying statement. It

may be that at the last a flash of conviction for a moment lighted 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 risen

to 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 forward

of the frame unstrung by pain, for the Traveler’s perfect rest had come.

Before daylight the men were quietly told in each hut what had happened,

and that they were to assemble. Susi and Chuma wished every body to be

present while 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 had arranged that his

traveling 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 dispatches in various stages were likewise inclosed, 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 all 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 almost 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 a half, and in other

chest his hat, one watch, and two small boxes of measuring instrments,

and in each box there was one. One compass, three other kind of

measuring instruments. Four other kind of measuring instruments. And

in another chest three 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 of 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 Chuma 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 realized 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 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 on 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. Such occurrences are

looked on as most serious offences, and the men regarded their position

with no small apprehension.

[Illustration: THE VILLAGE IN WHICH DR. LIVINGSTONE’S BODY WAS

PREPARED.]

Calling the whole party together, Susi and Chuma 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 traveling

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 Chuma 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 must 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 dispatched with axes to cut wood, while others

went to collect grass. Chuma 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 among 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 Chuma, 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 traveled, 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 travelers 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.

_2d 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 honors

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, while 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, while 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, Safene, while 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

while 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 May 3d, a special mourner arrived. He came with the

anklets which are worn on these occasions, composed of rows of hollow

seed-vessels filled with rattling pebbles, and in low, monotonous chant

sang, while he danced, what, translated into English, would read:

“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 traveler were soon afterward taken

to the place prepared. Over the heads of Farijala and Carras, Susi,

Chuma, and Muanuasere held a thick blanket as a kind of screen, under

which the men performed their duties. Tofike 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 inclosure.

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,[9] while Farijala pointed to the state of the lungs,

which they described as dried up, and covered with black-and-white

patches.

[9] 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.

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

then read the English Church Burial Service, in the presence of all. The

body was then left fully exposed to the sun. No other means were taken

to preserve it, beyond placing some brandy in the mouth and some in 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. 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, tolerably dried, was wrapped round in some calico,

the legs being bent inward 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

sail-cloth 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 travelers that a white man

had been at this village.

THE homeward march was then begun. Throughout its length we shall

content ourselves with giving the approximate number of days occupied in

traveling and halting. Although the memories of both men are

excellent--standing the severest test by the light of Dr. Livingstone’s

journals, or “set on” at any passage of his travels--still they kept no

precise record of the time spent at villages where they were detained by

sickness, and so the exactness of a diary can no longer be sustained.

They found, on the first day’s journey, that some other precautions were

necessary to enable the bearers of the mournful burden to keep to their

task. Sending to Chitambo’s village, they brought thence the cask of tar

which they had deposited with the chief, and gave a thick coating to the

canvas outside. This answered all purposes; they left the remainder at

the next village, with orders to send it back to headquarters, and then

continued their course through Ilala, led by their guides in the

direction of the Luapulu.

A moment’s inspection of the map will explain the line of country

traversed. Susi and Chuma had traveled with Dr. Livingstone in the

neighborhood of the northwest shores of Bangweolo in previous years. The

last fatal road from the north might be struck by a march in a due

northeast direction, if they could but hold out so far without any

serious misfortune; but, in order to do this, they must first strike

northward so as to reach the Luapulu, and then crossing it at some part

not necessarily far from its exit from the lake, they could at once lay

their course for the south end of Tanganyika.

There were, however, serious indications among them. First one and then

the other dropped out of the file, and by the time they reached a town

belonging to Chitambo’s brother--and on the third day only since they

set out--half their number were sick. It was impossible to go on. A few

hours more, and all seemed affected. The symptoms were intense pain in

the limbs and face, great prostration, and, in the bad cases, inability

to move. The men attributed it to the continual wading through water

before the Doctor’s death. They think that illness had been waiting for

some further slight provocation, and that the day’s previous tramp,

which was almost entirely through plashy bougas, or swamps, turned the

scale against them.

Susi was suffering very much. The disease settled in one leg, and then

quickly shifted to the other. Songolo nearly died. Kaniki and Behati,

two of the women, expired in a few days, and all looked at its worst.

It took them a good month to rally sufficiently to resume their

journey.

Fortunately, in this interval, the rains entirely ceased, and the

natives day by day brought an abundance of food to the sick men. From

them they heard that the districts they were now in were notoriously

unhealthy, and that many an Arab had fallen out from the caravan march,

to leave his bones in these wastes. One day five of the party made an

excursion to the westward, and on their return reported a large deep

river flowing into the Luapula on the left bank. Unfortunately no notice

was taken of its name, for it would be of considerable geographical

interest.

At last they were ready to start again, and came to one of the border

villages in Ilala the same night; but the next day several fell ill for

the second time, Susi being quite unable to move.

Muanamazungu, at whose place these relapses occurred, was fully aware of

everything that had taken place at Chitambo’s, and showed the men the

greatest kindness. Not a day passed without his bringing them some

present or other, but there was a great disinclination among the people

to listen to any details connected with Dr. Livingstone’s death. Some

return for their kindness was made by Farijala shooting three buffaloes

near the town; meat and good-will go together all over Africa, and the

liberal sportsman scores points at many a turn. A cow was purchased here

for some brass bracelets and calico, and on the twentieth day all were

sufficiently strong on their legs to push forward.

The broad waters of the long-looked for Luapula soon appeared in sight.

Putting themselves under a guide, they were conducted to the village of

Chisalamalama, who willingly offered them canoes for the passage across

the next day.[10]

[10] The men consider it five days’ march “only carrying a gun” from

the Molilamo to the bank of the Luapula--this in rough reckoning, at

the rate of native traveling, would give a distance of say one hundred

and twenty to one hundred and fifty miles.

As one listens to the report that the men give of this mighty river, he

instinctively bends his eyes on a dark burden laid in the canoe! How

ardently would he have scanned it whose body thus passes across these

waters, and whose spirit, in its last hours’ sojourn in this world,

wandered in thought and imagination to its stream!

It would seem that the Luapula at this point is double the width of the

Zambesi at Shupanga. This gives a breadth of fully four miles. A man

could not be seen on the opposite bank; trees looked small; a gun could

be heard, but no shouting would ever reach a person across the

river--such is the description given by those who were well able to

compare the Luapula with the Zambesi. Taking to the canoes, they were

able to use the “m’phondo,” or punting-pole, for a distance through

reeds, then came clear, deep water for some four hundred yards, again a

broad, reedy expanse, followed by another deep part, succeeded in turn

by another current not so broad as those previously paddled across, and

then, as on the starting side, gradually shoaling water, abounding in

reeds. Two islands lay just above the crossing-place. Using pole and

paddle alternately, the passage took them fully two hours across this

enormous torrent, which carries off the waters of Bangweolo toward the

north.

A sad mishap befell the donkey the first night of camping beyond the

Luapula, and this faithful and sorely-tried servant was doomed to end

his career at this spot!

According to custom, a special stable was built for him close to the

men. In the middle of the night a great disturbance, coupled with the

shouting of Amoda, aroused the camp. The men rushed out, and found the

stable broken down, and the donkey gone. Snatching some logs, they set

fire to the grass, as it was pitch dark, and by the light saw a lion

close to the body of the poor animal, which was quite dead. Those who

had caught up their guns on the first alarm fired a volley, and the lion

made off. It was evident that the donkey had been seized by the nose,

and instantly killed. At daylight the spoor showed that the guns had

taken effect. The lion’s blood lay in a broad track (for he was

apparently injured in the back, and could only drag himself along); but

the foot-prints of a second lion were too plain to make it advisable to

track him far in the thick cover he had reached, and so the search was

abandoned. The body of the donkey was left behind; but two canoes

remained near the village, and it is most probable that it went to make

a feast at Chisalamalama’s.

Travelling through incessant swamp and water, they were fain to make

their next stopping-place in a spot where an enormous ant-hill spread

itself out--a small island in the waters. A fire was lighted, and by

employing hoes, most of them dug something like a form to sleep in on

the hard earth.

Thankful to leave such a place, their guide led them next day to the

village of Kawinga, whom they describe as a tall man, of singularly

light color, and the owner of a gun, a unique weapon in these parts, but

one already made useless by wear and tear. The next village, N’kossu’s,

was much more important. The people, called Kawende, formerly owned

plenty of cattle, but now they are reduced; the Banyamwezi have put them

under the harrow, and but few herds remain. It is a somewhat singular

fact that the hump quite disappears in the lake breed; the cows would

pass for respectable short-horns.

A present was made to the caravan of a cow; but it seems that the rule,

“First catch your hare,” is in full force in N’kossu’s pastures. The

animals are exceedingly wild, and a hunt has to be set on foot whenever

beef is wanted; it was so in this case. Safene and Muanuasere, with

their guns, essayed to settle the difficulty. The latter, an old hunter,

was not likely to do much harm; but Safene, firing wildly at the cow,

hit one of the villagers, and smashed the bone of the poor fellow’s

thigh. Although it was clearly an accident, such things do not readily

settle themselves down on this assumption in Africa. The chief, however,

behaved very well. He told them a fine would have to be paid on the

return of the wounded man’s father, and it had better be handed to him,

for by law the blame would fall on him, as the entertainer of the man

who had brought about the injury. He admitted that he had ordered all

his people to stand clear of the spot where the disaster occurred, but

he supposed that in this instance his orders had not been heard. They

had not sufficient goods in any case to respond to the demand. The

process adopted to set the broken limb is a sample of native surgery

which must not be passed over.

First of all, a hole was dug, say two feet deep and four in length, in

such a manner that the patient could sit in it with his legs out before

him. A large leaf was then bound round the fractured thigh, and earth

thrown in so that the patient was buried up to the chest. The next act

was to cover the earth which lay over the man’s legs with a thick layer

of mud; then plenty of sticks and grass were collected, and a fire

lighted on the top directly over the fracture. To prevent the smoke

smothering the sufferer, they held a tall mat as a screen before his

face, and the operation went on. After some time the heat reached the

limbs under-ground. Bellowing with fear, and covered with perspiration,

the man implored them to let him out. The authorities concluding that he

had been under treatment a sufficient time, quickly burrowed down and

lifted him from the hole. He was now held perfectly fast, while two

strong men stretched the wounded limb with all their might! Splints duly

prepared were afterward bound round it, and we must hope that in due

time benefit accrued; but as the ball had passed through the limb, we

must have our doubts on the subject. The villagers told Chuma that after

the Banyamwezi engagements they constantly treated bad gunshot-wounds in

this way with perfect success.

Leaving N’kossu’s they rested one night at another village belonging to

him, and then made for the territory of the Wa Ussi. Here they met with

a surly welcome, and were told they must pass on. No doubt the

intelligence that they were carrying their master’s body had a great

deal to do with it, for the news seemed to spread with the greatest

rapidity in all directions. Three times they camped in the forest, and,

for a wonder, began to find some dry ground. The path lay in the direct

line of Chawende’s town, parallel to the north shore of the lake, and at

no great distance from it.

Some time previously a solitary Unyamwesi had attached himself to the

party at Chitankooi’s, where he had been left sick by a passing caravan

of traders; this man now assured them the country before them was well

known to him.

Approaching Chawende’s, according to native etiquette, Amoda and Sabouri

went on in front to inform the chief, and to ask leave to enter his

town. As they did not come back, Muanuasere and Chuma set off after

them, to ascertain the reason of the delay. No better success seemed to

attend this second venture; so, shouldering their burdens, all went

forward in the track of the four messengers.

In the mean time Chuma and Muanuasere met Amoda and Sabouri coming back

toward them with five men. They reported that they had entered the town,

but found it a very large stockaded place; moreover, two other villages

of equal size were close to it. Much pombe-drinking was going on. On

approaching the chief, Amoda had rested his gun against the principal

hut innocently enough. Chawende’s son, drunk and quarrelsome, made this

a cause of offence, and, swaggering up, he insolently asked them how

they dared to do such a thing. Chawende interfered, and for the moment

prevented further trouble; in fact, he himself seems to have been

inclined to grant the favor which was asked; however, there was danger

brewing, and the men retired.

When the main body met them returning, tired with their fruitless

errand, a consultation took place. Wood there was none. To scatter about

and find materials with which to build shelter for the night would only

offer a great temptation to these drunken, excited people to plunder the

baggage. It was resolved to make for the town.

When they reached the gate of the stockade they were flatly refused

admittance, those inside telling them to go down to the river and camp

on the bank. They replied that this was impossible; that they were

tired, it was very late, and nothing could be found there to give them

shelter. Meeting with no different answer, Safene said, “Why stand

talking to them? let us get in somehow or other;” and, suiting the

action to the word, they pushed the men back who stood in the gateway.

Safene got through, and Muanuasere climbed over the top of the stockade,

followed by Chuma, who instantly opened the gate wide and let his

companions through. Hostilities might still have been averted had better

counsel prevailed.

The men began to look about for huts in which to deposit their things,

when the same drunken fellow drew a bow and fired at Muanuasere. The man

called out to the others to seize him, which was done in an instant. A

loud cry now burst forth that the chief’s son was in danger, and one of

the people hurling a spear, wounded Sabouri slightly in the thigh; this

was the signal for a general scrimmage.

Chawende’s men fled from the town; the drums beat the assembly in all

directions, and an immense number flocked to the spot from the two

neighboring villages, armed with their bows, arrows, and spears. An

assault instantly began from the outside. N’chise was shot with an arrow

in the shoulder through the palisade, and N’taru in the finger. Things

were becoming desperate. Putting the body of Dr. Livingstone and all

their goods and chattels in one hut, they charged out of the town, and

fired on the assailants, killing two and wounding several others.

Fearing that they would only gather together in the other remaining

villages and renew the attack at night, the men carried these quickly

one by one, and subsequently burned six others, which were built on the

same side of the river; then crossing over, they fired on the canoes

which were speeding toward the deep water of Bangweolo, through the

channel of the Lopopussi, with disastrous results to the fugitive

people.

Returning to the town, all was made safe for the night. By the fortunes

of war, sheep, goats, fowls, and an immense quantity of food fell into

their hands, and they remained for a week to recruit. Once or twice they

found men approaching at night to throw fire on the roofs of the huts

from outside; but, with this exception, they were not interfered with.

On the last day but one, a man approached and called to them, at the top

of his voice, not to set fire to the chief’s town (it was his that they

occupied); for the bad son had brought all this upon them; he added that

the old man had been overruled, and they were sorry enough for his bad

conduct.

Listening to the account given of this occurrence, one cannot but lament

the loss of life, and the whole circumstances of the fight. While, on

the one hand, we may imagine that the loss of a cool, conciliatory,

brave leader was here felt in a grave degree, we must also see that it

was known far and wide that this very loss was now a great weakness to

his followers. There is no surer sign of mischief in Africa than these

trumpery charges of bewitching houses by placing things on them; some

such overstrained accusation is generally set in the front rank when

other difficulties are to come; drunkenness is pretty much the same

thing in all parts of the world, and gathers misery around it as easily

in an African village as in an English city. Had the cortege submitted

to extortion and insult, they felt that their night by the river would

have been a precarious one, even if they had been in a humor to sleep in

a swamp when a town was at hand. These things gave occasion to them to

resort to force. The desperate nature of their whole enterprise in

starting for Zanzibar perhaps had accumulated its own stock of

determination, and now it found vent under evil provocation. If there is

room for any other feeling than regret, it lies in the fact that, on

mature consideration and in sober moments, the people who suffered cast

the real blame on the right shoulders.

For the next three days after leaving Chawende’s, they were still in the

same inundated fringe of bouga which surrounds the Lake, and on each

occasion had to camp at night-fall wherever a resting place could be

found in the jungle, reaching Chama’s village on the fourth day. A delay

of forty-eight hours was necessary, as Susi’s wife fell ill; and for the

next few marches she was carried in a kitanda. They met an Unyamwezi man

here, who had come from Kumba-kumba’s town in the Wa Ussi district. He

related to them how on two occasions the Wanyamwezi had tried to carry

Chawende’s town by assault, but had been repulsed both times. It would

seem that, with the strong footing these invaders have in the country,

armed as they are besides with the much-dreaded guns, it can only be a

matter of time before the whole rule, such as it is, passes into the

hands of the new-comers.

The next night was spent in the open air, before coming to the scattered

huts of Ngumbu’s, where a motley group of stragglers, for the most part

Wabisa, were busy felling the trees and clearing the land for

cultivation. However, the little community gave them a welcome, in spite

of the wide-spread report of the fighting at Chawende’s and dancing and

drumming were kept up till morning.

One more night was passed in the plain, and they reached a tributary of

the Lopopussi River, called the M’Pamba; it is a considerable stream,

and takes one up to the chest in crossing. They now drew near to

Chiwaie’s town, which they describe as a very strong place, fortified

with a stockade and ditch. Shortly before reaching it some villagers

tried to pick a quarrel with them for carrying flags. It was their

invariable custom to make the drummer-boy, Majwara, march at their head,

while the union-jack and the red colors of Zanzibar were carried in a

foremost place in the line. Fortunately a chief of some importance came

up and stopped the discussion, or there might have been more mischief,

for the men were in no temper to lower their flag, knowing their own

strength pretty well by this time. Making their settlement close to

Chiwaie’s, they met with much kindness, and were visited by crowds of

the inhabitants.

Three days’ journey brought them to Chiwaie’s uncle’s village; sleeping

two nights in the jungle, they made Chungu’s, and in another day’s march

found themselves, to their great delight, at Kapesha’s. They knew their

road from this point, for on the southern route with Dr. Livingstone

they had stopped here, and could therefore take up the path that leads

to Tanganyika. Hitherto their course had been easterly, with a little

northing; but now they turned their backs to the lake, which they had

held on the right hand since crossing the Luapula, and struck almost

north.

From Kapesha’s to Lake Bangweolo is a three days’ march, as the crow

flies, for a man carrying a burden. They saw a large quantity of iron

and copper wire being made here by a party of Unyamwezi. The process is

as follows: A heavy piece of iron, with a funnel-shaped hole in it, is

firmly fixed in the fork of a tree. A fine rod is then thrust into it,

and a line attached to the first few inches which can be coaxed through.

A number of men haul on this line, singing and dancing in tune, and thus

it is drawn through the first drill; it is subsequently passed through

others to render it still finer, and excellent wire is the result.

Leaving Kapesha, they went through many of the villages already

enumerated in Dr. Livingstone’s diary. Chama’s people came to see them

as they passed by him, and, after some mutterings and growlings, Kasonga

gave them leave to buy food at his town. Beaching Chama’s headquarters,

they camped outside, and received a civil message, telling them to

convey his orders to the people on the banks of the Kalongwese, that the

travelers must be ferried safely across. They found great fear and

misery prevailing in the neighborhood, from the constant raids made by

Kumba-kumba’s men.

Leaving the Kalongwese behind them, they made for M’sama’s son’s town,

meeting four men on the way who were going from Kumba-kumba to Chama to

beat up recruits for an attack on the Katanga people. The request was

sure to be met with alarm and refusal, but it served very well to act

the part taken by the wolf in the fable. A grievance would immediately

be made of it, and Chama “eaten up” in due course for daring to gainsay

the stronger man. Such is too frequently the course of native

oppression. At last Kumba-kumba’s town came in sight. Already the large

district of Itawa has tacitly allowed itself to be put under the harrow

by this ruffianly Zanzibar Arab. Black-mail is levied in all directions,

and the petty chiefs, although really under tribute to Nsama, are

sagacious enough to keep in with the powers that be. Kumba-kumba showed

the men a storehouse full of elephants’ tusks. A small detachment was

sent off to try and gain tidings of one of the Nassick boys, who had

mysteriously disappeared a day or two previously on the march. At the

time no great apprehensions were felt, but as he did not turn up, the

grass was set on fire in order that he might see the smoke if he had

wandered, and guns were fired. Some think he purposely went off rather

than carry a load any further; while others fear he may have been

killed. Certain it is that after a five days’ search in all directions

no tidings could be gained either here or at Chama’s, and nothing more

was heard of him.

Numbers of slaves were collected here. On one occasion they saw five

gangs bound neck to neck by chains, and working in the gardens outside

the towns.

The talk was still about the break-up of Casembe’s power, for it will be

recollected that Kumba-kumba and Pemba-motu had killed him a short time

before; but by far the most interesting news that reached them was that

a party of Englishmen, headed by Dr. Livingstone’s son, on their way to

relieve his father, had been seen at Bagamoio some months previously.

The chief showed them every kindness during their five days’ rest, and

was most anxious that no mishap should by any chance occur to their

principal charge. He warned them to beware of hyenas, at night more

especially, as the quarter in which they had camped had no stockade

around it as yet.

Marching was now much easier, and the men quickly found they had crossed

the water-shed. The Lovu ran in front of them on its way to Tanganyika.

The Kalongwese, we have seen, flows to Lake Moero in the opposite

direction. More to their purpose it was, perhaps, to find the terror of

Kumba-kumba dying away as they traveled in a northeasterly direction,

and came among the Mwambi. As yet no invasion had taken place. A young

chief, Chungu, did all he could for them, for when the Doctor explored

these regions before, Chungu had been much impressed with him; and now,

throwing off all the native superstition, he looked on the arrival of

the dead body as a cause of real sorrow.

Asoumani had some luck in hunting, and a fine buffalo was killed near

the town. According to native game laws (which in some respects are

exceedingly strict in Africa), Chungu had a right to a fore-leg--had it

been an elephant, the tusk next the ground would have been his, past

all doubt--in this instance, however, the men sent in a plea that theirs

was no ordinary case, and that hunger had laws of its own; they begged

to be allowed to keep the whole carcass, and Chungu not only listened to

their story, but willingly waived his claim to the chief’s share.

It is to be hoped that these sons of Tafuna, the head and father of the

Amambwi a lungu, may hold their own. They seem a superior race, and this

man is described as a worthy leader. His brothers, Kasonso, Chitimbwa,

Sombe, and their sister Mombo, are all notorious for their reverence for

Tafuna. In their villages an abundance of colored homespun cloth speaks

for their industry; while from the numbers of dogs and elephant-spears

no further testimony is needed to show that the character they bear as

great hunters is well deserved.

The steep descent to the lake now lay before them, and they came to

Kasakalawe’s. Here it was that the Doctor had passed weary months of

illness on his first approach to Tanganyika in previous years. The

village contained hut few of its old inhabitants, but those few received

them hospitably enough, and mourned the loss of him who had been so well

appreciated when alive. So they journeyed on day by day till the

southern end of the lake was rounded.

The previous experience of the difficult route along the heights

bordering on Tanganyika made them determine to give the lake a wide

berth this time, and for this purpose they held well to the eastward,

passing a number of small deserted villages, in one of which they camped

nearly every night. It was necessary to go through the Fipa country, but

they learned from one man and another that the chief, Kafoofi, was very

anxious that the body should not be brought near to his town; indeed, a

guide was purposely thrown in their way who led them past by a

considerable detour. Kafoofi stands well with the coast Arabs. One,

Ngombesassi by name, was at the time living with him, accompanied by his

retinue of slaves. He had collected a very large quantity of ivory

further in the interior, but dared not approach nearer at present to

Unyanyembe with it, to risk the chance of meeting one of Mirambo’s

hordes.

This road across the plains seems incomparably the best. No difficulty

whatever was experienced, and one cannot but lament the toil and

weariness which Dr. Livingstone endured while holding a course close to

Tanganyika; although one must bear in mind that by no other means at the

time could he complete his survey of this great inland sea, or acquaint

us with its harbors, its bays, and the rivers which find their way into

it on the east. These are details which will prove of value when small

vessels come to navigate it in the future.

The chief feature after leaving this point was a three days’ march over

Lambalamfipa, an abrupt mountain range, which crosses the country east

and west, and attains, it would seem, an altitude of some four thousand

feet. Looking down on the plain from its highest passes a vast lake

appears to stretch away in front toward the north, but an descending

this resolves itself into a glittering plain, for the most part covered

with saline incrustations. The path lay directly across this. The

difficulties they anticipated had no real existence, for small villages

were found, and water was not scarce, although brackish. The first

demand for toll was made near here, but the headman allowed them to pass

for fourteen strings of beads. Susi says that this plain literally

swarms with herds of game of all kinds; giraffe and zebra were

particularly abundant, and lions reveled in such good quarters. The

settlements they came to belonged chiefly to elephant hunters. Farijala

and Muanuasere did well with the buffalo, and plenty of beef came into

camp.

They gained some particulars concerning a salt-water lake on their

right, at no very considerable distance. It was reported to them to be

smaller than Tanganyika, and goes by the name Bahari ya Muarooli--the

sea of Muarooli--for such is the name of the paramount chief who lives

on its shore, and, if we mistake not, the very Merere, or his successor,

about whom Dr. Livingstone from time to time showed such interest. They

now approached the Likwa River, which flows to this inland sea; they

describe it as a stream running breast-high, with brackish water; little

satisfaction was got by drinking from it.

Just as they came to the Likwa, a long string of men was seen on the

opposite side filing down to the water, and being uncertain of their

intentions, precautions were quickly taken to insure the safety of the

baggage. Dividing themselves into three parties, the first detachment

went across to meet the strangers, carrying the Arab flag in front.

Chuma headed another band at a little distance in the rear of these,

while Susi and a few more crouched in the jungle, with the body

concealed in a roughly-made hut. Their fears, however, were needless; it

turned out to be a caravan bound for Fipa to hunt elephants and buy

ivory and slaves. The new arrivals told them that they had come straight

through Unyanyembe from Bagamoio, on the coast, and that the Doctor’s

death had already been reported there by natives of Fipa.

[Illustration: HIPPOPOTAMUS IN HIS LAIR.]

With no small satisfaction the men learned from the outwardbound caravan

that the previous story was a true one, and they were assured that Dr.

Livingstone’s son, with two Englishmen and a quantity of goods, had

already reached Unyanyembe.

The country here showed all the appearance of a salt-pan; indeed, a

quantity of very good salt was collected by one of the men, who thought

he could turn an honest bunch of beads with it at Unyanyembe.

Petty tolls were levied on them. Kampama’s deputy required four dotis,

and an additional tax of six was paid to the chief of the Kanongo when

his town was reached.

The Lungwa River bowls away here toward Tanganyika. It is a quick,

tumbling stream, leaping among the rocks and boulders, and in its deeper

pools it affords cool delight to schools of hippopotami. The men, who

had hardly tasted good water since crossing Lambalamfipa, are loud in

its praise. Muanuasere improved relations with the people at the next

town by opportunely killing another buffalo, and all took a three days’

rest. Yet another caravan met them, bound likewise for the interior, and

adding further particulars about the Englishmen at Unyanyembe. This

quickened the pace till they found at one stage they were melting two

days of the previous outward journey into one.

Arriving at Baula, Jacob Wainwright, the scribe of the party, was

commissioned to write an account of the distressing circumstances of the

Doctor’s death, and Chuma, taking three men with him, pressed on to

deliver it to the English party in person. The rest of the cortege

followed them through the jungle to Chilunda’s village. On the outskirts

they came across a number of Wagogo hunting elephants with dogs and

spears; but although they were well treated by them, and received

presents of honey and food, they thought it better to keep these men in

ignorance of the charge.

The Manyara River was crossed, on its way to Tanganyika, before they got

to Chikooloo. Leaving this village behind them, they advanced to the

Ugunda district, now ruled by Kalimangombi, the son of Mbereke, the

former chief, and so on to Kasekera, which, it will be remembered, is

not far from Unyanyembe.

[Illustration: THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT.]

_20th October, 1873._--We will here run on ahead with Chuma on his way

to communicate with the new arrivals. He reached the Arab settlement

without let or hinderance. Lieutenant Cameron was quickly put in

possession of the main facts of Dr. Livingstone’s death by reading

Jacob’s letter, and Chuma was questioned concerning it in the presence

of Dr. Dillon and Lieutenant Murphy. It was a disappointment to find

that the reported arrival of Mr. Oswell Livingstone was entirely

erroneous; but Lieutenant Cameron showed the wayworn men every kindness.

Chuma rested one day before setting out to relieve his comrades, to whom

he had arranged to make his way as soon as possible. Lieutenant Cameron

expressed a fear that it would not be safe for him to carry the cloth he

was willing to furnish them with, if he had not a stronger convoy, as he

himself had suffered too sorely from terrified bearers on his way

thither; but the young fellows were pretty well acquainted with native

marauders by this time, and set off without apprehension.

And now the greater part of their task is over. The weather-beaten

company wind their way into the old well-known settlement of Kwihara. A

host of Arabs and their attendant slaves meet them, as they sorrowfully

take their charge to the same tembe in which the “weary waiting” was

endured before, and then they submit to the systematic questioning which

the native traveler is so well able to sustain.

News in abundance was offered in return. The porters of the Livingstone

East Coast Aid Expedition had plenty to relate to the porters sent by

Mr. Stanley. Mirambo’s war dragged on its length, and matters had

changed very little since they were there before, either for better or

for worse. They found the English officers extremely short of goods; but

Lieutenant Cameron, no doubt with the object of his expedition full in

view, very properly felt it a first duty to relieve the wants of the

party that had performed this herculean feat of bringing the body of

the traveler he had been sent to relieve, together with every article

belonging to him at the time of his death, as far as this main road to

the coast.

In talking to the men about their intentions, Lieutenant Cameron had

serious doubts whether the risk of taking the body of Dr. Livingstone

through the Ugogo country ought to be run. It very naturally occurred to

him that Dr. Livingstone might have felt a wish during life to be buried

in the same land in which the remains of his wife lay--it will be

remembered that the grave of Mrs. Livingstone is at Shupanga, on the

Zambesi. All this was put before the men; but they steadily adhered to

their first conviction, that it was right, at all risks, to attempt to

bear their master home, and therefore they were no longer urged to bury

him at Kwihara.

To the new-comers it was of great interest to examine the boxes which

the men had conveyed from Bangweolo. As we have seen, they had carefully

packed up everything at Chitambo’s--books, instruments, clothes, and all

which would bear special interest in time to come, from having been

associated with Livingstone in his last hours.

It cannot be conceded for a moment that these poor fellows would have

been right in forbidding this examination, when we consider the relative

position in which natives and English officers must always stand to each

other; but it is a source of regret to relate that the chief part of

Livingstone’s instruments were taken out of the packages and

appropriated for future purposes. The instruments with which all his

observations had been made throughout a series of discoveries extending

over seven years--aneroid barometers, compasses, thermometers, the

sextant, and other things--have gone on a new series of travels, to

incur innumerable risks of loss, while one only of his thermometers

comes to hand.

We could well have wished these instruments safe in England with the

small remnant of Livingstone’s personal property, which was allowed to

be shipped from Zanzibar.

The Doctor had deposited four bales of cloth as a reserve stock with the

Arabs, and these were immediately forthcoming for the march down.

Lieutenant Cameron gave the men to understand that it was agreed

Lieutenant Murphy should return to Zanzibar, and asked that if they

could attach his party to their march; if so, the men who acted as

carriers should receive six dollars a man for their services. This was

agreed to. Susi had arranged that they should avoid the main path of the

Wagogo; inasmuch as, if difficulty was to be encountered anywhere, it

would arise among these lawless, pugnacious people.

By making a ten days’ detour at “Jua Singa,” and traveling by a path

well known to one of their party, through the jungle of Poli ya vengi,

they hoped to keep out of harm’s way, and to be able to make the cloth

hold out with which they were supplied. At length the start was

effected, and Dr. Dillon likewise quitted the expedition, to return to

the coast. It was necessary to stop, after the first day’s march, for a

long halt; for one of the women was unable to travel, they found, and

progress was delayed till she could resume the journey. There seem to

have been some serious misunderstanding between the leaders of Dr.

Livingstone’s party and Lieutenant Murphy soon after setting out, which

turned mainly on the subject of beginning of the day’s march. The

former, trained in the old discipline of their master, laid stress on

the necessity of very early rising, to avoid the heat of the day, and

perhaps pointed out more bluntly than pleasantly, that if the Englishmen

wanted to improve their health, they had better do so too. However, to a

certain extent, difficulty was avoided by the two companies pleasing

themselves.

Making an early start, the body was carried to Kasekera by Susi’s party,

where, from an evident disinclination to receive it into the village, an

encampment was made outside. A consultation now became necessary. There

was no disguising the fact that if they kept along the main road

intelligence would precede them concerning that in which they were

engaged, stirring up certain hostility, and jeopardizing the most

precious charge they had. A plan was quickly hit upon. Unobserved, the

men removed the corpse of the deceased explorer from the package in

which it had hitherto been conveyed, and buried the bark case in the hut

in the thicket around the village in which they had placed it. The

object now was to throw the villagers off their guard, by making believe

that they had relinquished the attempt to carry the body to Zanzibar.

They feigned that they had abandoned their task, having changed their

minds, and that it must be sent back to Unyanyembe, to be buried there.

In the mean time the corpse of necessity had to be concealed in the

smallest space possible, if they were actually to convey it secretly for

the future; this was quickly managed.

Susi and Chuma went into the wood and stripped off a fresh length of

bark from an n’gombe-tree; in this the remains conveniently prepared as

to length, were placed, the whole being surrounded with calico in such a

manner as to appear like an ordinary traveling bale, which was then

deposited with the rest of the goods. They next proceeded to gather a

fagot of mapira-stalks, cutting them in lengths of six feet or so, and

swathing them round with cloth, to imitate a dead body about to be

buried. This done, a paper, folded as to represent a letter, was duly

placed in a cleft stick, according to the native letter-carrier’s

custom, and six trustworthy men were told off ostensibly to go with the

corpse to Unyanyembe. With due solemnity the men set out. The villagers

were only too thankful to see it, and no one suspected the ruse. It was

near sundown. The bearers of the package held on their way till fairly

beyond all chance of detection, and then began to dispose of their load.

The mapira-sticks were thrown, one by one, far away into the jungle, and

when all were disposed of, the wrappings were cunningly got rid of in

the same way. Going further on, first one man, and then another sprung

clear from the path into the long grass, to leave no trace of footsteps,

and the whole party returned by different ways to their companions, who

had been anxiously awaiting them during the night. No one could detect

the real nature of the ordinary-looking bale, which henceforth was

guarded with no relaxed vigilance, and eventually disclosed the bark

coffin and wrappings containing Dr. Livingstone’s body, on the arrival

at Bagamoio. And now, devoid of fear, the people of Kasekera asked them

all to come and take up their quarters in the town--a privilege which

was denied them so long as it was known that they had the remains of the

dead with them.

But a dreadful event was about to recall to their minds how many fall

victims to African disease.

Dr. Dillon now came on to Kasekera, suffering much from dysentery; a few

hours more, and he shot himself in his tent with a rifle. The malaria

imbibed during their stay at Unyanyembe laid upon him the severest form

of fever, accompanied by delirum, under which he at length succumbed in

one of its violent paroxysms. His remains are interred at Kasekera.

We must follow Susi’s troop through a not altogether eventless journey

to the sea. Some days afterward, as they wended their way through a

rocky place, a little girl in their train, named Losi, met her death in

a shocking way. It appears that the poor child was carrying a water-jar

on her head in the file of people, when an enormous snake dashed across

the path, deliberately struck her in the thigh, and made for a hole in

the jungle close at hand. This work of a moment was sufficient, for the

poor girl fell mortally wounded. She was carried forward, and all means

at hand were applied, but in less than ten minutes the last symptom

(foaming at the mouth) set in, and she ceased to breathe.

Here is a well-authenticated instance which goes far to prove the truth

of an assertion made to travelers in many parts of Africa. The natives

protest that one species of snake will deliberately chase and overtake

his victim with lightning speed, and so dreadfully dangerous is it, both

from the activity of its poison and its vicious propensities, that it is

perilous to approach its quarters. Most singular to relate, an Arab

came to some of the men after their arrival at Zanzibar, and told them

that he had just come by the Unyanyembe road, and that, while passing

the identical spot where this disaster occurred, one of the men was

attacked by the same snake, with precisely the same results; in fact,

when looking for a place in which to bury him they saw the grave of

Losi, and the two lie side by side.

This snake was doubtless a mamba; it is much to be desired that

specimens should be procured for purposes of comparison. In Southern

Africa so great is the dread it inspires that the Kaffirs will break up

a kraal and forsake the place, if a mamba takes up his quarters in the

vicinity, and, from what we have seen above, with no undue caution.

Susi, to whom this snake is known in the Shupanga tongue as “bubu,”

describes it as about twelve feet long, dark in color, of a dirty blue

under the belly, with red markings, like the wattles of a cock, on the

head. The Arabs go so far as to say that it is known to oppose the

passage of a caravan at times. Twisting its tail around a branch, it

will strike one man after another in the head with fatal certainty.

Their remedy is to fill a pot with boiling water, which is put on the

head and carried under the tree. The snake dashes his head into this,

and is killed; the story is given for what it is worth.

It would seem that at Ujiji the natives, as in other places, can not

bear to have snakes killed. “Chatu,” a species of python, is common,

and, from being highly favored, becomes so tame as to enter houses at

night. A little meal is placed on the stool, which the uncanny visitor

laps up, and then takes its departure; the men significantly say they

never saw it with their own eyes. Another species utters a cry, much

like the crowing of a young cock; this is well authenticated. Yet

another black variety has a spine like a black-thorn at the end of the

tail, and its bite is extremely deadly.

At the same time it must be added that, considering the enormous number

of reptiles in Africa, it rarely occurs that any one is bitten, and a

few months’ residence suffices to dispel the dread which most travelers

feel at the outset.

_February, 1874._--No further incident occurred worthy of special

notice. At last the coast-town of Bagamoio came in sight, and before

many hours were over, a British cruiser conveyed the acting consul,

Captain Prideaux, from Zanzibar to the spot which the cortege had

reached. Arrangements were quickly made for transporting the remains of

Dr. Livingstone to the island, some thirty miles distant, and then it

became perhaps rather too painfully plain to the men that their task was

finished.

One word on a subject which will commend itself to most before we close

this eventful history.

We saw what a train of Indian sepoys, Johanna men, Nassick boys, and

Shupanga canoe-men accompanied Dr. Livingstone when he started from

Zanzibar in 1866 to enter upon his last discoveries; of all these, five

only could answer to the roll-call as they handed over the dead body of

their leader to his countrymen on the shore whither they had returned,

and this after eight years’ desperate service.

Once more we repeat the names of these men. Susi and James Chuma have

been sufficiently prominent throughout--hardly so, perhaps, has Amoda,

their comrade ever since the Zambesi days of 1864; then we have Abram

and Mabruki, each with service to show from the time he left the Nassick

College with the Doctor in 1865. Nor must we forget Ntoaeka and Halima,

the two native girls of whom we have heard such a good character; they

cast in their lot with the wanderers in Manyuema. It does seem strange

to hear the men say that no sooner did they arrive at their journey’s

end than they were so far frowned out of notice, that not so much as a

passage to the island was offered them when their burden was borne away.

We must hope that it is not too late--even for the sake of

consistency--to put it on record that _whoever_ assisted Livingstone,

whether white or black, has not been overlooked. Surely those with whom

he spent his last years must not pass away into Africa again unrewarded,

and be lost to sight.

Yes, a very great deal is owing to these five men, and we say it

emphatically. If the world has had gratified a reasonable wish in

learning all that concerns the last days on earth of a truly noble man

and his wonderful enterprise, the means of doing so could never have

been placed at our disposal but for the ready willingness which made

Susi and Chuma determine, if possible, to render an account to some of

those whom they had known as their master’s old companions. If the

geographer finds before him new facts, new discoveries, new theories, as

Livingstone alone could record them, it is right and proper that he

should feel the part these men have played in furnishing him with such

valuable matter. For we repeat that nothing but such leadership and

staunchness as that which organized the march home from Ilala, and

distinguished it throughout, could have brought Livingstone’s bones to

England, or his last notes and maps to the outer world. To none does the

feat seem so marvelous as to those who know Africa, and the difficulties

which must have beset both the first and the last in the enterprise.

Thus in his death, not less than in his life, David Livingstone bore

testimony to that good-will and kindliness which exists in the heart of

the African.

[Illustration]