A Book of Discovery Part 39

It was a red-letter day in his life. "I went down," he says, "to take a good look at the Lualaba here. It is a mighty river at least three thousand yards broad and always deep. The banks are steep; the current is about two miles an hour away to the north." Livingstone was gazing at the second-largest river in the world--the Congo. But he thought it was the Nile, and confidently relates how it overflows all its banks annually as the Nile does.

At Nyangwe, a Manyuema village, Livingstone stayed for four months.

The natives were dreadful cannibals. He saw one day a man with ten human jaw-bones hung by a string over his shoulder, the owners of which he had killed and eaten. Another day a terrible ma.s.sacre took place, arising from a squabble over a fowl, in which some four hundred perished.

The Arabs too disgusted him with their slave-raiding, and he decided that he could no longer travel under their protection. So on 20th July 1871 he started back for Ujiji, and after a journey of seven hundred miles, accomplished in three months, he arrived, reduced to a skeleton, only to find that the rascal who had charge of his stores had stolen the whole and made away.

But when health and spirit were failing, help was at hand. The meeting of Stanley and Livingstone on the sh.o.r.es of the Lake Tanganyika is one of the most thrilling episodes in the annals of discovery. Let them tell their own story: "When my spirits were at their lowest ebb,"

says Livingstone, "one morning Susi came running at the top of his speed and gasped out, 'An Englishman! I see him!' and off he darted to meet him. The American flag at the head of a caravan told of the nationality of the stranger. Bales of goods, baths of tin, huge kettles, and cooking-pots made me think, 'This must be a luxurious traveller and not one at his wits' end, like me.'"

It was Henry Morton Stanley, the travelling correspondent of the _New York Herald_, sent at an expense of more than 4000 pounds to obtain accurate information about Dr. Livingstone if living, and if dead to bring home his bones.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIVINGSTONE AT WORK ON HIS JOURNAL. From a sketch by H. M. Stanley.]

And now Stanley takes up the story. He has entered Ujiji and heard from the faithful Susi that the explorer yet lives. Pus.h.i.+ng back the crowds of natives, Stanley advanced down "a living avenue of people"

till he came to where "the white man with the long grey beard was standing."

"As I advanced slowly towards him," says Stanley, "I noticed he was pale, looked worried, wore a bluish cap with a faded gold band round it, had on a red-sleeved waistcoat and a pair of grey tweed trousers.

I walked deliberately to him, took off my hat, and said, 'Dr.

Livingstone, I presume?'

"'Yes,' said he, with a kind smile, lifting his cap slightly.

"Then we both grasp hands and I say aloud, 'I thank G.o.d, Doctor, I have been permitted to see you.'

"'You have brought me new life--new life,' murmured the tired explorer," and for the next few days it was enough for the two Englishmen to sit on the mud verandah of Livingstone's house, talking.

Livingstone soon grew better, and November found the two explorers surveying the river flowing from the north of Tanganyika and deciding that it was not the Nile.

Stanley now did his best to persuade Livingstone to return home with him to recruit his shattered health before finis.h.i.+ng his work of exploration. But the explorer, tired and out of health though he was, utterly refused. He must complete the exploration of the sources of the Nile before he sought that peace and comfort at home for which he must have yearned.

So the two men parted--Stanley to carry Livingstone's news of the discovery of the Congo back to Europe, Livingstone to end his days on the lonely sh.o.r.es of Lake Bangweolo, leaving the long-sought mystery of the Nile sources yet unsolved.

On 25th August 1872 he started on his last journey. He had a well-equipped expedition sent up by Stanley from the coast, including sixty men, donkeys, and cows. He embarked on his fresh journey with all his old eagerness and enthusiasm, but a few days' travel showed him how utterly unfit he was for any more hards.h.i.+ps. He suffered from intense and growing weakness, which increased day by day. He managed somehow to ride his donkey, but in November his donkey died and he struggled along on foot. Descending into marshy regions north of Lake Bangweolo, the journey became really terrible. The rainy season was at its height, the land was an endless swamp, and starvation threatened the expedition. To add to the misery of the party, there were swarms of mosquitoes, poisonous spiders, and stinging ants by the way. Still, amid all the misery and suffering, the explorer made his way on through the dreary autumn months. Christmas came and went; the new year of 1873 dawned. He could not stop. April found him only just alive, carried by his faithful servants. Then comes the last entry in his diary, 27th April: "Knocked up quite. We are on the banks of R. Molilamo."

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIVINGSTONE ENTERING THE HUT AT ILALA ON THE NIGHT THAT HE DIED. From Livingstone's _Last Journals_, by permission of Mr. John Murray.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LAST ENTRIES IN LIVINGSTONE'S DIARY.]

They laid him at last in a native hut, and here one night he died alone.

They found him in the early morning, just kneeling by the side of the rough bed, his body stretched forward, his head buried in his hands upon the pillow. The negroes buried his heart on the spot where he died in the village of Ilala on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Bangweolo under the shadow of a great tree in the still forest. Then they wrapped his body in a cylinder of bark wound round in a piece of old sailcloth, lashed it to a pole, and a little band of negroes, including Susi and Chuma, set out to carry their dead master to the coast. For hundreds of miles they tramped with their precious burden, till they reached the sea and could give it safely to his fellow-countrymen, who conveyed it to England to be laid with other great men in Westminster Abbey.

"He needs no epitaph to guard a name Which men shall praise while worthy work is done.

He lived and died for good, be that his fame.

Let marble crumble: this is living-stone."

[Ill.u.s.tration: SUSI, LIVINGSTONE'S SERVANT. From a sketch by H. M.

Stanley.]

CHAPTER LXVIII

THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT

The death of Livingstone, the faithfulness of his native servants in carrying his body and journals across hundreds of miles of wild country to the coast, his discovery of the great river in the heart of Africa, and the great service in Westminster Abbey roused public interest in the Dark Continent and the unfinished work of the great explorer.

"Never had such an outburst of missionary zeal been known, never did the cause of geographical exploration receive such an impetus."

The dramatic meeting between Livingstone and Stanley on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Tanganyika in 1871 had impressed the public in England and America, and an expedition was now planned by the proprietors of two great newspapers, the _London Daily Telegraph_ and the _New York Herald_. Stanley was chosen to command it. And perhaps there is hardly a better-known book of modern travels than _Through the Dark Continent_, in which he has related all his adventures and discoveries with regard to the Congo. Leaving England in August 1874 with three Englishmen and a large boat in eight sections, the _Lady Alice_, for the navigation of lake and river, the little exploring party reached Zanzibar a few weeks later and started on their great inland journey.

The way to Victoria Nyanza lay through what is now known as German East Africa. They reached Ugogo safely and turned to the north-west, entering an immense and silent bush-field, where no food was obtainable. On the eighth day five people died of starvation and the rest of the expedition was only saved by the purchase of some grain from a distant village. But four more died and twenty-eight miles under a hot sun prostrated one of the white men, who died a few days later.

Thus they entered Ituru, "a land of naked people, whose hills drained into a marsh, whence issue the southernmost waters of the Nile."

Here they were surrounded by angry savages on whom they had to fire, and from whose country they were glad to escape.

On 27th February 1875, after tramping for one hundred and three days, they arrived at their destination. One of the white men who was striding forward suddenly waved his hat, and with a beaming face shouted out, "I have seen the lake, sir; it is grand."

Here, indeed, was the Victoria Nyanza, "which a dazzling sun transformed into silver," discovered by Speke sixteen years before, and supposed to be the source of the Nile. The men struck up a song of triumph--

"Sing, O friends, sing; the journey is ended.

Sing aloud, O friends; sing to the great Nyanza.

Sing all, sing loud, O friends, sing to the great sea; Give your last look to the lands behind, and then turn to the sea.

Lift up your heads, O men, and gaze around.

Try if you can to see its end.

See, it stretches moons away, This great, sweet, fresh-water sea."

"I thought," says Stanley, "there could be no better way of settling, once and for ever, the vexed question, than by circ.u.mnavigating the lake."

So the _Lady Alice_ was launched, and from the sh.o.r.es of Speke Gulf, as he named the southern end, the explorer set forth, leaving the two remaining Englishmen in charge of the camp.

"The sky is gloomy," writes Stanley, "the rocks are bare and rugged, the land silent and lonely. The rowing of the people is that of men who think they are bound to certain death; their hearts are full of misgivings as slowly we move through the dull dead waters." The waters were not dead for long. A gale rose up and the lake became wild beyond description. "The waves hissed as we tore along, the crew collapsed and crouched into the bottom of the boat, expecting the end of the wild venture, but the _Lady Alice_ bounded forward like a wild courser and we floated into a bay, still as a pond."

So they coasted along the sh.o.r.es of the lake. Their guide told them it would take years to sail round their sea, that on the sh.o.r.es dwelt people with long tails, who preferred to feed on human beings rather than cattle or goats. But, undaunted, the explorer sailed on, across the Napoleon Channel, through which flowed the superfluous waters of the lake rus.h.i.+ng northward as the Victoria Nile. "On the western side of the Channel is Uganda, dominated by an Emperor who is supreme over about three millions of people. He soon heard of my presence on the lake and dispatched a flotilla to meet me. His mother had dreamed the night before that she had seen a boat sailing, sailing like a fish-eagle over the Nyanza. In the stern of the boat was a white man gazing wistfully towards Uganda."

On reaching the port a crowd of soldiers, "arrayed in crimson and black and snowy white," were drawn up to receive him. "As we neared the beach, volleys of musketry burst out from the long lines. Numerous kettles and bra.s.s drums sounded a noisy welcome, flags and banners waved, and the people gave a great shout."

[Ill.u.s.tration: STANLEY AND HIS MEN MARCHING THROUGH UNYORO. From a sketch, by Stanley, in _Through the Dark Continent_.]

Such was Stanley's welcome to M'tesa's wonderful kingdom of Uganda, described by Speke sixteen years before. The twelve days spent at the court of this monarch impressed Stanley deeply. Specially was the king interested in Christianity, and the English explorer told the story of the Creation and the birth of the Messiah to this intelligent pagan and his courtiers. "Ten days after we left the genial court, I came upon the scene of a tragedy. We were coasting the eastern side of a large island, having been thirty-six hours without food, looking for a port where we could put in and purchase provisions. Natives followed our movements, poising their spears, stringing their bows, picking out the best rocks for their slings. We were thirteen souls, they between three and four hundred. Seeing the boat advance, they smiled, entered the water, and held out inviting hands. The crew shot the boat towards the natives; their hands closed on her firmly, they ran with her to the sh.o.r.e and dragged her high and dry about twenty yards from the lake. Then ensued a scene of rampant wildness and hideous ferocity of action beyond description. The boat was surrounded by a forest of spears and two hundred demons contended for the first blow. I sprang up to kill and be killed, a revolver in each hand, but as I rose to my feet the utter hopelessness of our situation was revealed to me."

To make a long story short, the natives seized the oars, and, thinking the boat was now in their power, they retired to make their plans.

Meanwhile Stanley commanded his crew to tear the bottom boards up for paddles, and, pus.h.i.+ng the boat hastily into the water, they paddled away, their commander firing the while with his elephant rifle and explosive bullets. They were saved.

On 6th May the circ.u.mnavigation was finished and the _Lady Alice_ was being dragged ash.o.r.e in Speke Gulf with shouts of welcome and the waving of many flags. But sad news awaited him. He could see but one of his white companions.

"Where is Barker?" he asked Frank Poc.o.c.k.

"He died twelve days ago," was the melancholy answer.

Stanley now took his whole expedition to Uganda, and after spending some months with the King he pa.s.sed on to Lake Tanganyika, crossing to Ujiji, where he arrived in May 1876. Here five years before he had found Livingstone.