How I Found Livingstone by Henry M. Stanley (read after .txt) 📖

to the fountain region,

but these things were not to be, any more than many other

impulsive wishes, and despite the intensified emotions which filled

both of us, save by silent tears, and a tremulous parting word,

we did not betray our stoicism of manhood and race.

 

I assumed a gruff voice, and ordered the Expedition to march,

and I resolutely turned my face toward the eastern sky. But ever

and anon my eyes would seek that deserted figure of an old man in

grey clothes, who with bended head and slow steps was returning to

his solitude, the very picture of melancholy, and each time I saw

him—as the plain was wide and clear of obstructions—I felt my

eyes stream, and my heart swell with a vague, indefinable feeling

of foreboding and sorrow.

 

I thought of his lonely figure sitting day after day on the

burzani of his house, by which all caravans from the coast would

have to pass, and of the many, many times he would ask the

new-comers whether they had passed any men coming along the road

for him, and I thought as each day passed, and his stores and

letters had not arrived how be would grieve at the lengthening

delay. I then felt strong again, as I felt that so long as I

should be doing service for Livingstone, I was not quite parted

from him, and by doing the work effectively and speedily the

bond of friendship between us would be strengthened. Such

thoughts spurred me to the resolution to march so quickly for

the coast, that Arabs in after time should marvel at the speed

with which the white man’s caravan travelled from Unyanyembe

to Zanzibar.

 

I took one more look at him; he was standing near the gate of

Kwikuru with his servants near him. I waved a handkerchief to him,

as a final token of farewell, and he responded to it by lifting

his cap. It was the last opportunity, for we soon surmounted the

crest of a land-wave, and began the descent into the depression on

the other side, and I NEVER saw him more.

 

God grant, dear reader, that if ever you take to travelling in

Central Africa, you find as good and true a man, for your

companion, as I found in noble David Livingstone. For four months

and four days he and I occupied the same house, or, the same tent,

and I never had one feeling of resentment against him, nor did he

show any against me, and the longer I lived with him the more did

my admiration and reverence for him increase.

 

What were Livingstone’s thoughts during the time which elapsed

between my departure for the coast, and the arrival of his

supplies, may be gathered from a letter which he wrote on the 2nd

of July to Mr. John F. Webb, American Consul at Zanzibar.

 

I have been waiting up here like Simeon Stylites on his pillar,

and counting every day, and conjecturing each step taken by our

friend towards the coast, wishing and praying that no sickness

might lay him up, no accident befall him, and no unlooked-for

combinations of circumstances render his kind intentions vain

or fruitless. Mr. Stanley had got over the tendency to the

continued form of fever which is the most dangerous, and was

troubled only with the intermittent form, which is comparatively

safe, or I would not have allowed him, but would have accompanied

him to Zanzibar. I did not tell himself so; nor did I say what I

thought, that he really did a very plucky thing in going through

the Mirambo war in spite of the remonstrances of all the Arabs,

and from Ujiji guiding me back to Unyanyembe. The war, as it

is called, is still going on. The danger lay not so much in

the actual fighting as in the universal lawlessness the war

engendered.

 

I am not going to inflict on the reader a repetition of our march

back, except to record certain incidents which occurred to us as we

journeyed to the coast.

 

March 17th.—We came to the Kwalah River. The first rain of the

Masika season fell on this day; I shall be mildewed before I reach

the coast. Last year’s Masika began at Bagamoyo, March 23rd, and

ended 30th April.

 

The next day I halted the Expedition at Western Tura, on the

Unyamwezi frontier, and on the 20th arrived at Eastern Tura; when,

soon after, we heard a loud report of a gun, and Susi and Hamoydah,

the Doctor’s servants, with Uredi, and another of my men, appeared

with a letter for “Sir Thomas MacLear, Observatory, Cape of Good

Hope,” and one for myself, which read as follows:

 

Kwihara, March 15, 1872.

 

Dear Stanley,

 

If you can telegraph on your arrival in London, be particular,

please, to say how Sir Roderick is. You put the matter exactly

yesterday, when you said that I was “not yet satisfied about the

Sources; but as soon as I shall be satisfied, I shall return and

give satisfactory reasons fit for other people.” This is just as

it stands.

 

I wish I could give you a better word than the Scotch one to “put

a stout heart to a stey brae”—(a steep ascent)—for you will do

that; and I am thankful that, before going away, the fever had

changed into the intermittent, or safe form. I would not have

let you go, but with great concern, had you still been troubled

with the continued type. I feel comfortable in commending you

to the guardianship of the good Lord and Father of all.

 

I am gratefully yours,

 

David Livingstone.

 

I have worked as hard as I could copying observations made in one

line of march from Kabuire, back again to Cazembe, and on to Lake

Baugweolo, and am quite tired out. My large figures fill six

sheets of foolscap, and many a day will elapse ere I take to

copying again. I did my duty when ill at Ujiji in 1869, and am

not to blame, though they grope a little in the dark at home.

Some Arab letters have come, and I forward them to you.

 

D. L.

 

March 16, 1872.

 

P.S.—I have written a note this morning to Mr. Murray,

50, Albemarle Street, the publisher, to help you, if necessary,

in sending the Journal by book post, or otherwise, to Agnes.

If you call on him you will find him a frank gentleman. A pleasant

journey to you.

 

David Livingstone.

 

To Henry M. Stanley, Esq.,

Wherever he may be found.

 

Several Wangwana arrived at Tura to join our returning Expedition,

as they were afraid to pass through Ugogo by themselves; others

were reported coming; but as all were sufficiently warned at

Unyanyembe that the departure of the caravan would take place

positively on the 14th, I was not disposed to wait longer.

 

As we were leaving Tura, on the 21st, Susi and Hamoydah were sent

back to the Doctor, with last words from me, while we continued our

march to Nghwhalah River.

 

Two days afterwards we arrived before the village of Ngaraisa,

into which the head of the caravan attempted to enter but the

angry Wakimbu forcibly ejected them.

 

On the 24th, we encamped in the jungle, in what is called the

“tongoni,” or clearing.

 

This region was at one period in a most flourishing state; the

soil is exceedingly fertile; the timber is large, and would be

valuable near the coast; and, what is highly appreciated in

Africa, there is an abundance of water. We camped near a smooth,

broad hump of syenite, at one end of which rose, upright and grand,

a massive square rock, which towered above several small trees in

the vicinity; at the other end stood up another singular rock,

which was loosened at the base.

 

The members of the Expedition made use of the great sheet of rock

to grind their grain; a common proceeding in these lands where

villages are not near, or when the people are hostile.

 

On the 27th of March we entered Kiwyeh. At dawn, when leaving

Mdaburu River, the solemn warning had been given that we were

about entering Ugogo; and as we left Kaniyaga village, with

trumpet-like blasts of the guide’s horn, we filed into the depths

of an expanse of rustling Indian corn. The ears were ripe enough

for parching and roasting, and thus was one anxiety dispelled

by its appearance; for generally, in early March, caravans

suffer from famine, which overtakes both natives and strangers.

 

We soon entered the gum-tree districts, and we knew we were in

Ugogo. The forests of this country are chiefly composed of the

gum and thorn species—mimosa and tamarisk, with often a variety

of wild fruit trees. The grapes were plentiful, though they were

not quite ripe; and there was also a round, reddish fruit with the

sweetness of the Sultana grape, with leaves like a gooseberry-bush.

There was another about the size of an apricot, which was

excessively bitter.

 

Emerging from the entangled thorn jungle, the extensive settlements

of Kiwyeh came into view; and to the east of the chief’s village

we found a camping place under the shade of a group of colossal

baobab.

 

We had barely encamped when we heard the booming, bellowing war

horns sounding everywhere, and we espied messengers darting swiftly

in every direction giving the alarm of war. When first informed

that the horns were calling the people to arm themselves, and

prepare for war, I half suspected that an attack was about to be

made on the Expedition; but the words “Urugu, warugu” (thief!

thieves!)—bandied about, declared the cause. Mukondoku, the chief

of the populous district two days to the northeast, where we

experienced some excitement when westward-bound, was marching to

attack the young Mtemi, Kiwyeh, and Kiwyeh’s soldiers were called

to the fight. The men rushed to their villages, and in a short

time we saw them arrayed in full fighting costume. Feathers of the

ostrich and the eagle waved over their fronts, or the mane of the

zebra surrounded their heads; their knees and ankles were hung

with little bells; joho robes floated behind, from their necks;

spears, assegais, knob-sticks, and bows were flourished over their

heads, or held in their right hands, as if ready for hurling. On

each flank of a large body which issued from the principal village,

and which came at a uniform swinging double-quick, the ankle and

knee bells all chiming in admirable unison, were a cloud of

skirmishers, consisting of the most enthusiastic, who exercised

themselves in mimic war as they sped along. Column after column,

companies, and groups from every village hurried on past our camp

until, probably, there were nearly a thousand soldiers gone to the

war. This scene gave me a better idea than anything else of the

weakness of even the largest caravans which travelled between

Zanzibar and Unyanyembe.

 

At night the warriors returned from the forest; the alarm proved

to be without foundation. At first it was generally reported that

the invaders were Wahehe, or the Wadirigo, as that tribe are

scornfully called from their thieving propensities. The Wahehe

frequently make a foray upon the fat cattle of Ugogo. They travel

from their own country in the south-east, and advance through the

jungle, and when about to approach the herds, stoop down, covering

their bodies with their shields of bull-hide. Having arrived

between the cattle and the herdsmen, they suddenly rise up and

begin to switch the cattle heartily, and, having started them off

into the jungle in the care of men already detailed for the work,

they turn about, and plant their shields before them, to fight

the aroused shepherds.

 

On the 30th we arrived at Khonze,