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.

[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.

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.

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.

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.

_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.