 CHAPTER XV. PART III. I am not going to inflict on the reader a repetition of our march back, except to record certain incidents which occurred to us as we journeyed to the coast. March 17. We came to the Koala River. The first rain of the Mesica season fell on this day. I shall be mildewed before I reach the coast. Next year's Mesica began at Bugamayo, March 23, and ended the thirtieth of April. The next day I halted the expedition at Western Tura on the Unyamwezi Frontier, and on the twentieth arrived at Eastern Tura, when, soon after we heard a loud report of a gun, and Susie and Homoida, the doctor's servants, with Eureti and another of my men, appeared with a letter for Sir Thomas McLeer, Observatory, Cape of Good Hope, and one for myself which read as follows, Quihara, March 15, 1872. Dear Stanley, if you can telegraph on your arrival in London, be particular, please, to say how Sir Rodrick is. You put the matter exactly yesterday when you said that I was not yet satisfied about the sources, but as soon as I shall be satisfied I shall return and give satisfactory reasons fit for other people. This is just as it stands. I wish I could give you a better word than the scotch one to put a stout heart to a stave ray, a steep ascent, for you will do that, and I am thankful that, before going away, the fever had changed into the intermittent or safe form. I would not have let you go, but with great concern had you still been troubled with the continued type. I feel comfortable in commending you to the guardianship of the Good Lord and Father of all. I am gratefully yours, David Livingston. I have worked as hard as I could copying observations made in one line of the march from Cabir, back again to Kazembe, and on to Lake Baguelo, and I am quite tired out. My large figures feel six sheets of full-scap, and many a day will elapse ere I take to copying again. I did my duty when ill at Eugigie in 1869, and am not to blame, though they grope a little in the dark at home. Some Arab blooders have come, and I forward them to you, D.L. March 16, 1872. P.S. I have written a note this morning to Mr. Murray, Fifty, Abel Morrow Street, the publisher, to help you if necessary, in sending the journal by Bookpost or otherwise to Agnes. If you call on him, you will find him a frank gentleman. A pleasant journey to you, David Livingston. To Henry M. Stanley Esquire, wherever he may be found. Several Wangwana arrived at Turred to join our returning expedition, as they were afraid to pass through Eugogo by themselves. Others were reported coming, but as all were sufficiently warned at Unyanyembe that the departure of the caravan would take place positively on the fourteenth, I was not disposed to wait longer. As we were leaving Turra on the twenty-first, Susie and Hamoida were sent back to the doctor, with last words for me while we continued our march to the Nuengualo River. Two days afterwards we arrived before the villages of Nguresa, into which the head of the caravan attempted to enter, but the angry Wakimbu forcibly ejected them. On the twenty-fourth we encamped in the jungle in what is called the Tongoni or clearing. This region was, at one period, in a most flourishing state. The soil is exceedingly fertile, the timber is large, and would be valuable near the coast. And what is highly appreciated in Africa there is an abundance of water. We camped near a smooth, broad hump of Sinait, at one end of which rose, upright and grand, a massive square rock, which towered above several small trees in the vicinity, at the other end stood up another singular rock, which was loosened at the base. The members of the expedition made use of the great sheet of rock to grind their grain, a common proceeding in these lands where villages are not near, or when the people are hostile. On the twenty-seventh of March we entered Kyuya. At dawn, when leaving the Badaburu River, the solemn warning had been given that we were about to enter Yugogo. And as we left Kanayaga village, with trumpet-like blasts of the guide's horn, we filed into the depths of an expanse of wrestling Indian corn. The ears were ripe enough for parching and roasting, and thus was one anxiety dispelled by its appearance. For generally in early March caravans suffer from famine, which overtakes both natives and strangers. We soon entered the gum-tree districts, and we knew we were in Yugogo. The forests of this country are chiefly composed of the gum and thorn-spices, mimosa and tamarisk, with often a variety of wild fruit-trees. The grapes were plentiful, though they were not quite ripe, and there was also a round, reddish fruit with the sweetness of the sultana grape, with leaves like a gooseberry bush. There was another about the size of an apricot, which was excessively bitter. Emerging from the tangled thorn jungle, the extensive settlements of Kyuya came into view, and to the east of the chief's village we found a camping-place under the shade of a group of colossal boabaab. We had barely encamped when we heard the booming, bellowing war-horns sounding everywhere, and we aspired messengers darting swiftly in every direction giving the alarm of war. When first informed that the horns were calling the people to arm themselves and prepare for war, I half suspected that an attack was about to be made on the expedition. But the words Yuguru, Waguru, Thief, Thieves, bandied about, declared the cause. Makandoku, the chief of the populous district two days to the northeast, where we experienced some excitement when westward bound, was marching to attack the young meteme, Kyuya, and Kyuya's soldiers were called to the fight. The men rushed to their villages, and in short time we saw them arrayed in full fighting costume. Feathers of the ostrich and the eagle waved over their fronts, or the mane of the zebras surrounded their heads. Their knees and ankles were hung with little bells, jojo robes floated behind from their necks, spears, asegais, knobsticks, and bows were flourished over their heads, or held in their right hands as if ready for hurling. On each flank of a large body which issued from the principal village, and which came at a uniform swinging double-quick, the ankle and knee-bells all chiming in admirable unison were a cloud of skirmishers, consisting of the most enthusiastic who exercised themselves in mimic wars they sped along. Column after column, companies and groups from every village hurried on past our camp until probably there were nearly a thousand soldiers gone to the war. This scene gave me a better idea than anything else of the weakness of even the largest caravans which traveled between Zanzibar and Unyanyembe. At night the warriors returned from the forest. The alarm proved to be without foundation. At first it was generally reported that the invaders were Wahehe, or the Wadi-Rigo, as that tribe are scornfully called from their thieving propensities. The Wahehe frequently make a foray upon the fat cattle of Ugo-Gogo. They travel from their own country in the southeast, and advance through the jungle, and when about to approach the herds, they shoot down, covering their bodies with their shields of bull-hide. Having arrived between the cattle and the herdsmen, they suddenly rise up and begin to switch the cattle heartily, and having started them off into the jungle in the care of the men already detailed for the work, they turn about and plant their shields before them to fight the aroused shepherds. On the thirtieth we arrived at Kohns, which is remarkable for the mighty globes of foliage which the giant sycamores and boabaubs put forth above the plain. The chief of Kohns boasts of four Thames, out of which he could muster in the aggregate fifty armed men. Yet this fellow, instigated by the Wanyamwezi residence, prepared to resist our advance, because I only sent him three Doty, twelve yards of cloth, as hunger. We were halted, wading the return of a few friendly Wagogo travelers who had joined us, and who were asked to assist Bombay in the negotiation of the tribute, when the Wagogo returned to us at breathless speed, and shouted out to me, Why do you halt here? Do you wish to die? These pagans will not take the tribute, but they boast that they will eat up all your cloth. The renegade Wanyamwezi, who had married into Wagogo families, were always our bane in this country. As the chief of Kohns came up I ordered the men to load their guns, and I loaded my own ostentatiously in his presence, and then strode up to him and asked if he had come to take the cloth by force, or if he were going to accept quietly what I would give him. As the Wanyamwezi who caused this show of hostilities was beginning to speak, I caught him by the throat and threatened to make his nose flatter if he attempted to speak again in my presence, and to shoot him first if we should be forced to fight. The rascal was then pushed away into the rear. The chief, who was highly amused with this proceeding, laughed loudly at the disconfiture of the parasite, and in a short time he and I had settled the tribute to our mutual satisfaction, and we parted great friends. The expedition arrived at Sansa that night. On the thirty-first we came to Kanyenye to the great Matemi, Magombas whose son and heir is Matandu Magonda. As we passed by the tembe of the great sultan, the Masagira, or chief-counselor, a pleasant gray-haired man, was at work making a thorn fence around a patch of young corn. He greeted the caravan with a sonorous yambo, and putting himself at its head he led the way to our camp. When introduced to me he was very cordial in his manner. He was offered a kiddie stool, and began to talk very affably. He remembered my predecessors, Burton, Speck, and Grant very well, declared me to be much younger than any of them, and recollecting that one of the white men used to drink asses milk, Burton, offered to procure me some. The way I drank it seemed to give him very great satisfaction. His son, Yunemapukera, was a tall man of thirty or thereabouts, and he conceived a great friendship for me, and promised that the tribute should be very light, and that he would send the man to show me the way to Myemi, which was a village on the frontier of Kanyenye, by which I would be enabled to avoid the rapacious Kisawa, who was in the habit of enforcing large tribute from caravans. With the aid of Yunemapukera and his father, we contrived to be molested very lightly, for we only paid ten dhoti, while Burton was compelled to pay sixty dhoti, or two hundred and forty yards of cloth. On the first of April, rising early, we reached Myemi after a four hours march, then plunged into the jungle, and about two p.m. arrived at a large zewa, or pond, situate in the middle of a jungle, and on the next day at ten a.m. reached the fields of Mapanga. We were passing the village of Mapanga to a resting place beyond the village, where we might breakfast and settle the humga, when a lad rushed forward to meet us and asked us where we were going. Having received a reply that we were going to a camping place, he hastened on ahead, and presently we heard him talking to some men in a field on our right. In the meantime we had found a comfortable, shady place, and had come to a halt. The men were reclining on the ground, or standing up near their respective loaves. Bombay was about opening a bale, when we heard a great rush of men, and loud shouts, and, immediately after, out rushed from the jungle, nearby, a body of forty or fifty armed men, who held their spears above their heads, or were about to draw their bows, with a chief at their head, all uttering such howls of rage as only savages can, which sounded like a long-drawn hot h, h, uh, uh, which meant unmistakably you will, will you, know you will not, at once determined, defiant, and menacing. I had suspected that the voices I heard boated no good to us, and I had accordingly prepared my weapons and cartridges. Verily, what a fine chance for adventure this was! One spear flung at us, or one shot fired into this miniatory mob of savages, and the opposing bands had been plunged into a fatal conflict. There would have been no order of battle, no pomp of war, but a murderous strife, a quick firing of breech-loaders and volleys from flint-locked muskets, mixed with the flying of spears and twanging of bows, the cowardly running away at once, pursued by yelping savages, and who knows how it all would have terminated. Forty spears against forty guns, but how many guns would not have decamped? Perhaps all, and I should have been left with my boy gun-bearers to have my jugular deliberately severed, or to be decapitated, leaving my head to adorn a tall pole in the center of a Quigogo village, like poor Monsieur Mazane's at Digla Mojara in Uzaremo. Happy end of an expedition, and the doctor's journal lost forever, the fruits of six years' labor. But in this land it will not do to fight unless driven to the very last extremity. No belligerent mongo part can be successful in Yugogo unless he has a sufficient force of men with him. With five hundred Europeans one could traverse Africa from north to south by tact, and the moral effect that such a force would inspire. Very little fighting would be required. Without rising from the bale on which I was seated, I requested the curagozo to demand an explanation of their furious hubbub and threatening aspect, if they were coming to rob us. No, said the chief, we do not want to stop the road or to rob you, but we want the tribute. But don't you see us halted, and the bale opened to send it to you? We have come so far from your village that after the tribute is settled we can proceed on our way, as the day is yet young. The chief burst into a loud laugh, and was joined by ourselves. He evidently felt ashamed of his conduct, for he voluntarily offered the explanation, that as he and his men were cutting wood to make a new fence for his village, a lad came up to him and said that a caravan of wongwana were passing through the country without stopping to explain who they were. We were very soon good friends. He begged of me to make rain for him, as his crops were suffering and no rain had fallen for months. I told him that the white people were very great and clever people, much superior to the Arabs, yet we could not make rain. Though very much disappointed he did not doubt my statement, and after receiving his hunga, which was very light, he permitted us to go on our way, and even accompanied us some distance to show us the road. At three p.m. we entered a thorny jungle, and by five p.m. we had arrived at Mahalata, a district lorded over by the chief Nyam Zaga. A Magogo, of whom I made a friend, proved very staunch. He belonged to Maloa, a country to the south-south east and south of Kulabi, and was active in promoting my interest by settling the tribute, with the assistance of Bombay, for me. When on the next day we passed through Kulabi on our way to Muvumi, and the Magogo were about to stop us for the hanga, he took upon himself the task of relieving us from further toll, by stating we were from Magogo or Kenyeni. The chief simply nodded his head and we passed on. It seems that the Magogo do not exact blackmail of those caravans who intend only to trade in their own country, or have no intention of passing beyond their own frontier. Leaving Kulabi we traversed a naked red Lomie plain, over which the wind from the heights of Yusagara, now rising a bluish black jumble of mountains on our front, howled most fearfully. With clear, keen incisive force the terrible blasts seemed to penetrate through and through our bodies, as though we were but filmy gauze. Manfully batting against this mildly pepo, storm, we passed through Makamoaza, and crossing a broad sandy bed of stream we entered the territory of Muvumi, the last tribute-leving chief of Yugogo. The fourth of April, after sending Bombay and my friendly Magogo with eight dhoti, or thirty-two yards of cloth, as a farewell tribute to the sultan, we struck off through the jungle, and in five hours we were on the borders of the wilderness of Muranga Makali, the hard, bitter, or brackish water. From our camp I dispatched three men to Zanzibar with letters to the American consul, and telegraphic dispatches for the herald, with a request to the consul that he would send the men back with a small case or two containing such luxuries as hungry, worn out, and mildewed men would appreciate. The three messengers were charged not to halt for anything, rain or no rain, river or inundation, as if, if they did not hurry up, we should catch them before they reached the coast. With a fervent inshallah bana, they departed. On the fifth, with a loud vigorous cheery hurrah, we plunged into the depths of the wilderness, which, with its eternal silence and solitude, was far preferable to the jarring inharmonious discord of the villages of the Wogogo. For nine hours we held on our way, starting with noisy shouts the fierce rhinoceros, the timid quagga, and the herds of antelopes which crowd the jungles of this broad Selina. On the seventh, amid a pelting rain, we entered Mopuapua, where my scotch assistant, Farquhar, died. We had performed the extraordinary march of three hundred and thirty-eight English miles from the fourteenth of March to the seventh of April, or within twenty-four days, inclusive of halts, which was a little over fourteen miles a day. Locali, the chief of Mopuapua, with whom I left Farquhar, gave the following account of the death of the latter. The white man seemed to be improving after you left him, until the fifth day, when attempting to rise and walk out of his tent, he fell back. From that minute he got worse and worse, and in the afternoon he died, like one going to sleep. His legs and abdomen had swollen considerably, and something I think broke within him when he fell, for he cried out like a man who was very much hurt, and his servant said, the master says he is dying. We had him carried out under a large tree, and after covering him with leaves there left him. His servant took possession of his things, his rifle, clothes, and jacket, and moved off to the tembe of Aminumweze, near Qisokwa, where he lived for three months, when he also died. Before he died he sold his master's rifle to an Arab going to Unyanyembe for ten dhoti, forty yards of cloth. That is all I know about it. He subsequently showed me the hollow into which the dead body of Farquhar was thrown, but I could not find a vestige of his bones, though we looked sharply about that we might make a decent grave for them. Before we left Unyanyembe fifty men were employed, two days carrying rocks, with which I built up a solid, enduring pile around Shah's grave, eight feet long and five feet broad, which Dr. Livingston said would last hundreds of years as the grave of the first white man who died in Unyanyemweze. But though we could not discover any remains of the unfortunate Farquhar, we collected a large quantity of stones and managed to raise a mound near the banks of the stream to commemorate the spot where his body was laid. It was not until we had entered the valley of the Mukundakwa river that we experienced anything like privation or hardship from the Masika. Here the torrents thundered and roared, the river was a mighty brown flood sweeping downward with an almost resistless flow. The banks were brim full, and broad mullas were full of water, and the fields were inundated, and still the rain came surging down in a shower that warned us of what we might expect during our transit of the sea-coast region. Still we urged our steps onward like men to whom every moment was precious, as if a deluge was overtaking us. Three times we crossed this awful flood at the fords by means of ropes tied to trees from bank to bank, and arrived at Kedetamare on the eleventh, a most miserable, most woe-begone set of human beings, and camped on a hill opposite Mount Kibwe, which rose on the right of the river, one of the tallest peaks of the range. CHAPTER XV. PART IV. OF HOW I FOUND LIVINGSTON. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. HOW I FOUND LIVINGSTON. TRAVELS, ADVENTURES, AND DISCOVERIES IN CENTRAL AFRICA. INCLUDING FOUR MONTHS' RESIDENTS WITH DR. LIVINGSTON. BY SIR. HENRY M. STANLEY. CHAPTER XV. PART IV. HOMEWARD BOUND. LIVINGSTON'S LAST WORDS. THE FINAL FAIR WELL. On the twelfth of April, after six hours of the weariest march I had ever undergone, we arrived at the mouth of the Makandakwa Pass, which, out of the river, debouches into the plain of Makara. We knew that it was an unusual season for the condition of the country, though bad enough the year before, was nothing compared to this year. Close to the edge of the foaming, angry flood lay our route, dipping down frequently into deep ditches wherein we found ourselves sometimes up to the waste in water, and sometimes up to the throat. Great necessity impelled us onward, lest we might have to camp at one of these villages until the end of the monsoon rains. So we kept on, over marshy bottoms, up to the knees and mire, under jungly tunnels dripping with wet, then into slows, armpit deep. Every channel seemed filled to overflowing, yet down the rain poured, beating the surface of the river into yellowish foam, pelting us until we were almost breathless. Half a day's battling against such difficulties brought us, after crossing the river, once again to the dismal village of Mavuni. We passed the night fighting swarms of black and voracious mosquitoes, and in heroic endeavors to win repose and sleep, in which we were partly successful, owing to the utter weariness of our bodies. On the thirteenth we struck out of the village of Mavumi. It had rained the whole night, and the morning brought no cessation. Mile after mile we traversed, over fields covered by the inundation, until we came to a branch riverside once again, where the river was narrow and too deep to forward in the middle. We proceeded to cut a tree down, and so contrived that it should fall right across the stream. Over this fallen tree the men, bestriding it, cautiously moved before them their bales and boxes. But one young fellow, Rojab, through overseal or in utter madness, took up the doctor's box which contained his letters and journal of his discoveries on his head, and started into the river. I had been the first to arrive on the opposite bank in order to superintend the crossing. When I caught sight of this man walking in the river with the most precious box of all on his head, suddenly he fell into a deep hole, and the man and box went almost out of sight, while I was in an agony at the fate which threatened the dispatches. Fortunately he recovered himself and stood up, while I shouted to him, with a loaded revolver pointed at his head, Look out, drop that box, and I'll shoot you. All the men halted in their work while they gazed at their comrade who was thus imperiled by bullet and flood. The man himself seemed to regard the pistol with the greatest awe, and after a few desperate efforts succeeded in getting the box safely ashore. As the articles within were not damaged, Rojab escaped punishment, with a caution not to touch the box again on any account, and it was transferred to the keeping of the sure-footed and perfect Pagasi, Maganga. From this stream in about an hour we came to the main river, but one look at its wild waters was enough. We worked hard to construct a raft, but after cutting down four trees and lashing the green logs together and pushing them into the whirling current, we saw them sink like lead. We then tied together all the strong rope in our possession and made a line one hundred and eighty feet long, with one end of which tied to his body Chopra was sent across to lash it to a tree. He was carried far down the stream, but being an excellent swimmer he succeeded in his attempt. The bales were lashed around the middle, and, heaved into the stream, were dragged through the river to the opposite bank, as well as the tent, and such things as could not be injured much by the water. Several of the men, as well as myself, were also dragged through the water, each of the boys being attended by the best swimmers. But when it came to the letter boxes and valuables we could suggest no means to take them over. Two camps were accordingly made, one on each side of the stream, one on the bank which I had just left occupying an anthill of considerable height, while my party had to content itself with a flat, myry march. An embankment of soil nearly a foot high was thrown up in a circle thirty feet in diameter, in the center of which my tent was pitched, and around it booths were erected. It was an extraordinary and novel position that we found ourselves in. Within twenty feet of our camp was a rising river, with flat low banks, above us was a gloomy weeping sky surrounding us on three sides was an immense forest, on whose branches we heard the constant pattering rain. Beneath our feet was a great depth of mud, black and loathsome. Add to these the thought that the river might overflow and sweep us to utter destruction. In the morning the river was still rising, and an inevitable doom seemed to hang over us. There was yet time to act, to bring over the people with the most valuable effects of the expedition, as I considered Dr. Livingston's journal and letters, and my own papers, of far greater value than anything else. While looking at the awful river an idea struck me that I might possibly carry the boxes across, one at a time, by cutting two slender poles and tying cross-sticks to them, making a kind of hand-barrow on which a box might rest when lashed to it. Two men swimming across at the same time holding onto the rope, with the ends of the poles resting on the men's shoulders I thought would be enabled to convey over a seventy-pound box with ease. In a short time one of these was made, and six couples of the strongest swimmers were prepared, and stimulated with a rousing glass of stiff grog each man, with a promise of cloth to each, also if they succeeded in getting everything ashore undamaged by the water. When I saw with what ease they dragged themselves across the barrow on their shoulders I wondered that I had not thought of the plan before. Within an hour of the first couple had gone over the whole expedition was safe on the eastern bank, and at once breaking camp we marched north through the swampy forest, which in some places was covered with four feet of water. Seven hours constant splashing brought us to Rehenko, after experiencing several queer accidents. We were now on the verge only of the inundated plain of the Makata which, even with the last year's rain, was too horrible to think of undertaking again in cold blood. We were encamped ten days on a hill near Rehenko, or until the twenty-fifth, when the rain having entirely ceased we resolved to attempt the crossing of the Makata. The bales of cloth had all been distributed as presents to the men for their work, except a small quantity which I retained for the food of my own mess. But we should have waited a month longer, for the inundation had not abated four inches. However, after we once struggled up to our necks and water it was useless to turn back. For two marches of eight hours each we plunged through slush, mire, deep sloughs, water up to our necks, and muddy cataclysms, swam across Nellas, waded across gullies, and near sunset of the second day arrived on the banks of the Makata River. My people are not likely to forget that night. Not one of them was able to sleep until it was long past midnight because of the clouds of mosquitoes, which threatened to eat us all up. When the horn sounded for the march of another day, there was not one dissentient amongst them. It was five a.m. when we began the crossing of the Makata River, but beyond it for six miles stretched one long lake, the waters of which flowed gently towards the Whammy. This was the confluence of the streams. Four rivers were here gathered into one. The natives of Kigango warned us not to attempt it, as the water was over our heads, but I had only to give a hint to the men, and we set on our way. Then the water, we were getting quite amphibious, was better than the horrible filth and piles of decaying vegetation which were swept against the Boma of the village. We were soon up to our armpits, then the water swallowed to the knee, then we stepped up to the neck and waded on tiptoes, supporting the children above the water, and the same experiences occurred as those which we suffered the day before, until we were halted on the edge of the little Makata, which raced along at the rate of eight knots an hour. But it was only fifty yards wide, and beyond it rose a high bank and dry parklands which extended as far as Simbo. We had no other option than to swim, but it was a slow operation, the current was so swift and strong. Activity and zeal, high rewards, presence of money, backed by the lively feeling that we were nearing home worked wonders, and in a couple of hours we were beyond the Makata. Cheery and hopeful, we sped along the dry, smooth path that now lay before us, with the ardour and vivacity of heroes, and the ease and power of veterans. We rolled three ordinary marches into one that day, and long before night arrived at Simbo. On the twenty-ninth we crossed the Ungringary, and as we came to the Simba Mweni, the lion city of Yusugaha. Lo! What a change! The flooded river had swept the entire front wall of the strongly walled city away, and about fifty houses had been destroyed by the torrent. Because of warra-guru on the slopes of the Yuruguru Mountains, Macumbacu Range had also suffered disastrously. If one-fourth of the reports we heard were true, at least a hundred people must have perished. The sultana had fled, and the stronghold of Cabango was no more. A deep canal that he had caused to be excavated when alive, to bring a branch of the Ungringary to his city, which was his glory and boast, proved the ruin of Simba Mweni. After the destruction of the place the river had formed a new bed, about three-hundred yards from the city. But what astonished us most were the masses of debris which seems to be piled everywhere, and the great numbers of trees that were prostrate, and they all seemed to lie in the same direction, as if a strong wind had come from the southwest. The aspect of the Ungringary Valley was completely changed, from a paradise it was converted into a howling waste. We continued our march until we reached Alagala, and it was evident as we advanced that an unusual storm had passed over the land, for the trees in some places seemed to lie in swaths. A most fatiguing and long march brought us to Musudi, on the eastern bank of the Ungringary, but before long we reached it we realized that a terrific destruction of human life and property had occurred. The extent and nature of the calamity may be imagined when I state that nearly one-hundred villages, according to Musudi's report, were swept away. Musudi, the Dewan, says that the inhabitants had gone to rest as usual, as they had done ever since he had settled in the valley twenty-five years ago, when in the middle of the night they heard a roar like many thunders, which roped them up to the fact that death was at work in the shape of an enormous volume of water, that like a wall came down, tearing the tallest trees with it, carrying away scores of villages at one fell, sure-swoop, into utter destruction. The scene six days after the event, when the river has subsided into its normal breadth and depth during the monsoons, is simply awful. Wherever we look we find something very suggestive of the devastation that has visited the country. Fields of corn are covered with many feet of sand and debris. The sandy bed the river has deserted is about a mile wide, and there are but three villages standing of all that I noticed when en route to Yunyanyambi. When I asked Musudi where the people had gone to, he replied, God has taken most of them, but some have gone to Udo. The surest blow ever struck at the tribe of the Wakame was indeed given by the hand of God, and to use the words of the Dewan, God's power is wonderful, and who can resist him? I again resort to my diary and extract the following. Passing Musua we traveled hurriedly through the jungle which saw such hard work with us when going to Yunyanyambi. What dreadful odors and indescribable loathing this jungle produces. It is so dense that a tiger could not crawl through it. It is so impenetrable that an elephant could not force his way. Were a bottle full of concentrated miasma, such as we inhale herein, collected, what a deadly poison, instantaneous in its action, undescribable in its properties would it be? I think it would act quicker than chloroform, be as fatal as pristic acid. Horrors upon horrors are in it. Boas above our heads, snakes and scorpions under our feet. Land crabs, terrapins, and iguanas move about in our vicinity. Malaria is in the air we breathe. The road is infested with hot water ants, which bite our legs until we dance and squirm about like madmen. Yet somehow we are fortunate enough to escape annihilation, and many another traveller might also. Yet here in Varity are the ten plagues of Egypt through which a traveller in these regions must run the gauntlet. One plague of boas, two red ants or hot water, three scorpions, four thorns and spear cacti, five numerous impediments, six black mud knee deep, seven suffocation from the density of the jungle, eight stench, nine thorns in the road, ten miasma. May 1st, King Garuhara. We heard news of a great storm having raged at Zanzibar, which has destroyed every house and every ship, so the story runs, and the same destruction has visited Bagamayo and Winde, they say. But I am by this time pretty well acquainted with the exaggerative tendency of the African. It is possible that serious loss has been sustained, from the evidence of the effects of the storm in the interior. I hear also that there are white men at Bagamayo who are about starting into the country to look after me. Who would look after me? I cannot imagine. I think they must have some confused idea of my expedition, though how they came to know that I was looking for any man I cannot conceive, because I never told a soul until I reached Unyanyembe. May 2nd, Rosako. I had barely arrived at the village before the three men I dispatched from Mavuni, Ugogo, entered, bringing with them from the generous American consul a few bottles of champagne, a few pots of jam, and two boxes of Boston crackers. These were most welcome after my terrible experiences in the Makata Valley. Inside one of these boxes, carefully put up by the council, were four numbers of the herald, one of which contained my correspondence from Unyanyembe, wherein were some curious typographical errors, especially in figures and African names. I suppose my writing was wretched, owing to my weakness. In another are several extracts from various newspapers in which I learned that many editors regard the expedition into Africa as a myth. Alas, it has been a terrible, earnest fact with me, nothing but hard, conscientious work, privation, sickness, and almost death. Eighteen men have paid the forfeit of their lives in the undertaking. It certainly is not a myth. The death of my two white assistants, they, poor fellows, found their fate in the inhospitable regions of the interior. One of my letters received from Zanzibar by my messenger states that there is an expedition at Bagamoyo called the Livingston Search and Relief expedition. What will the leaders of it do now? Livingston has found, and relieved, already. Livingston says he requires nothing more. It is a misfortune that they did not start earlier. Then they might with propriety proceed and be welcomed. May 4th. Arrived at King Ware's Ferry, but we were unable to attract the attention of the canoe paddler. Between our camp and Bagamoyo we have an inundated plane that is at least four miles broad. The ferrying of our expedition across this broad watery waste will occupy considerable time. May 5th. King Ware, the canoe proprietor, came about eleven a.m. from his village at Gungungi, beyond the watery plain. By his movements I am feigned to believe him to be a descendant of some dusky king log, for I have never seen in all this land the attributes and peculiarities of that royal personage so faithfully illustrated as in King Ware. He brought two canoes with him, short, cranky things in which only twelve of us could embark at a time. It was three o'clock in the afternoon before we arrived at Gungungi village. May 6th. After impressing King Ware with the urgent necessity of quick action on his part, with the promise of an extra five-dollar gold piece, I had the satisfaction to behold the last man reach my camp at three-thirty p.m. An hour later, and we are en route, at a pace that I never saw equaled at any time by my caravan. Every man's feelings are intensified, for there is an animated, nay, headlong impetuosity about their movements that indicates but too well what is going on in their minds. Only my own are a faithful indents to their feelings, and I do not feel a wit too proud to acknowledge the great joy that possesses me. I feel proud to think that I have been successful, but honestly I do not feel so elated at the hope that to-morrow I shall sit before a table bound to us with the good things of this life. How I will glory in the hams, and potatoes, and good bread! What a deplorable state of mind, is it not? Ah, my friend, wait till you are reduced to a skeleton by gaunt famine and coarse, loathsome food, until you have waited a Makata swamp and marched five hundred and twenty-five miles in thirty-five days, through weather such as we have had. Then you will think such pa-boula food fit for gods. Happy are we that, after completing our mission, after the hurry and worry of the march, after the anxiety and vexations suffered from fratious tribes, after tramping for the last fifteen days through Meyer and Stygian Marsh, we near Bula's peace and rest. Can we do otherwise than express our happiness by firing away gunpowder until our horns are emptied, then shout our hara's until we are horse-than with the hearty, soul-inspiring yambos, greet every mother's son fresh from the seat? Not so. Think the one Guana soldiers, and I so sympathize with them that I permit them to act their maddest without censure. At sunset we enter the town of Bagamoyo. More pilgrims come to town where the words heard in Bula. The white man has come to town where the words we heard in Bagamoyo. And we shall cross the water to-morrow to Danzabar, and shall enter the Golden Gate. We shall see nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing that is offensive to the stomach any more. The Kirangosi blows his horn and gives forth blasts potential as estoffos, as the natives and Arabs throng about us. And that bright flag whose stars have waved over the waters of the Great Lake in Central Africa, which promised relief to the harassed Livingston when in distress at Ujiji, returns to the sea once again, torn it is true but not dishonored, tattered but not disgraced. As we reach the middle of the town I saw on the steps of a large white house a white man, in flannels and helmets similar to that I wore. I thought myself rather akin to white men in general, and I walked up to him. He advanced towards me and we shook hands, did everything but embrace. Won't you walk in? said he. Thanks. What will you have to drink? Beer? Stout? Brandy? Ah, by George, I congratulate you on your splendid success! said he, impetuously. I knew him immediately. He was an Englishman. He was Lieutenant William Hen, R.N., chief of the Livingston Search and Relief Expedition, about to be dispatched by the Royal Geographical Society to find and relieve Livingston. The former chief, as the expedition was at first organized, was Lieutenant Llewellyn S. Dawson, who, as soon as he heard from my men that I had found Livingston, had crossed over to Zanzibar and, after consultation with Dr. John Kirk, had resigned. He had now nothing further to do with it, the command having formally devolved on Lieutenant Hen. A Mr. Charles New, also, missionary from Mombasa, had joined the expedition, but he had resigned, too. So now they were left but Lieutenant Hen and Mr. Oswald Livingston, second son of the doctor. Is Mr. Oswald Livingston here? I asked, with considerable surprise. Yes, he will be here directly. What are you going to do now? I asked. I don't think it will be worth my while to go now. You have taken the wind out of our sails completely. If you have relieved him, I don't see the use of my going. Do you? Well, it depends. You know your own order is best. If you have come only to find and relieve him, I can tell you truly he has found and relieved, and that he wants nothing more than a few canned meats and some other little things which I dare say you have not got. I have his list in his own handwriting with me. But his son must go anyhow, and I can get men easily enough for him. Well, if he is relieved, it is of no use my going. At this time walked in a slight, young, gentlemanly man with a light complexion, light hair, dark, lustrous eyes who was introduced to me as Mr. Oswald Livingston. The introduction was hardly necessary, for in his features there was much of what were the specialities of his father. There was an air of quiet resolution about him in the greeting which he gave me he exhibited a rather reticent character, but I attributed that to a receptive nature, which augured well for the future. I was telling Lieutenant Hen that, whether he goes or not, you must go to your father, Mr. Livingston. Oh, I mean to go. Yes, that's right. I will furnish you with men and what stores your father needs. My men will take you to Unyan Yembe without any difficulty. They know the road well, and that is a great advantage. They know how to deal with the Negro chiefs, and you will have no need to trouble your head about them but march. The great thing that is required is speed. Your father will be waiting for the things. I will march them fast enough, if that is all. Oh, they will be going up light, and they can easily make long marches. It was settled then. Hen made up his mind that, as the doctor had been relieved, he was not wanted, but before formally residing he intended to consult with Dr. Kirk, and for that purpose he would cross over to Zanzibar the next day with the hair-old expedition. At two a.m. I retired to sleep on a comfortable bed. There was a great smell of newness about certain articles in the bedroom, such as haversacks, knapsacks, portmanteaus, leather gun cases, etc. Evidently the new expedition had some crudities about it, but a journey into the interior would soon have lessened the stock of superfluities, which all new men at first load themselves with. Ah, what a sigh of relief was that I gave as I threw myself on my bed at the thought of, thank God my marching was ended. CHAPTER XVI. OF HOW I FOUND LIVINGSTON. HOW I FOUND LIVINGSTON. TRAVELS, ADVENTURES, AND DISCOVERIES IN CENTRAL APRICA, INCLUDING FOUR MONTHS RESIDENCE WITH DR. LIVINGSTON. BY SIR. HENRY M. STANLEY. CHAPTER XVI. VALIDICTORY. AT FIVE P.M. ON THE SEVENTH OF MAY, 1872, THE DAO, WHICH CONVADE MY EXPEDITION BACK TO ZANZIBAR, ARRIVED IN THE HARBOR, AND THE MEN DELIDED TO FIND THEMSELVES ONCE MORE SO NEAR THEIR HOMES, FIRED VOLLEE AFTER VOLLEE. THE AMERICAN FLAG WAS HOISTED UP, AND WE SOON SAW THE HOUSE ROOVES AND WARVES LIND WITH SPECTATORS, MANY OF WHOM ARE EUROPEANS WITH GLASSES LEVELED AT US. WE DREW A SHORE SLOWLY, BUT A BOAT PUTTING OFF TO TAKE US TO LAND, WE STEPPED INTO IT, AND I WAS SOON IN THE PRESENCE OF MY FRIEND THE CONSUL, WHO HARDLY WELCOMEED ME BACK TO ZANZIBAR, AND SOON AFTER WAS INTRODUCE TO THE REVERENT CHARLES NEW, WHO WAS BUT A DAY OR TWO PREVIOUS TO MY ARRIVAL, AN IMPORTANT MEMBER OF THE ENGLISH SEARCH EXPEDITION. A small, slight man in appearance, who, though he looked weekly, had a fund of energy or nervousness in him which was almost too great for such a body. He also heartily congratulated me. After a bounteous dinner, to which I did justice in a manner that astonished my new friends, Lieutenant Dawson called to see me and said, Mr. Stanley, let me congratulate you, sir. Lieutenant Dawson then went on to state how he envied me my success, how I had taken the wind out of his sails, a nautical phrase similar to that used by Lieutenant Hen, how, when he heard from my men that Dr. Livingston had been found, he at once crossed over from Begumayo to Zanzibar, and after a short talk with Dr. Kirk, at once resigned. But do you not think, Mr. Dawson, you have been rather too hasty in tendering your resignation, from the mere verbal report of my men? Perhaps, said he, but I heard that Mr. Webb had received a letter from you, and that you and Livingston had discovered that the Ruzizi ran into the lake, that you had the doctor's letters and dispatches with you. Yes, but you acquired all this information from my men. You have seen nothing yourself. You have therefore resigned before you had personal evidence of the fact. Well, Dr. Livingston is relieved and found, as Mr. Hen tells me, is he not? Yes, that is true enough. He is well supplied. He only requires a few little luxuries, which I am going to send him by an expedition of fifty freemen. Dr. Livingston is found and relieved, most certainly, and I have all the letters and dispatches which he could possibly send to his friends. But don't you think I did perfectly right? Hardly, though perhaps it would come to the same thing in the end. Any more cloth and beads than he has already would be an encumbrance. Still, you have your orders from the Royal Geographical Society. I have not seen those yet, and I am not prepared to judge what your best course would have been. But I think you did wrong in resigning before you saw me, for then you would have had, probably, a legitimate excuse for resigning. I should have held on to the expedition until I had consulted with those who sent me. Though in such an event as this the order would perhaps be to come home. As it has turned out, though, don't you think I did right? Most certainly it would be useless for you to go search for and relieve Livingston now because he has already been sought, found, and relieved. But perhaps you had other orders. Only if I went into the country was thy then to direct my attention to exploration. But the primary object having been forstalled by you I am compelled to return home. The Admiralty granted me leave of absence only for the search and never said anything about exploration. That evening I dispatched a boy over to the English consulate with letters from the great traveller for Dr. Kirk and Mr. Oswell Livingston. I was warmly greeted by the American and German residents who could not have shown warmer feelings than if Dr. Livingston had been a near and dear relative of their own. Captain H. A. Frazier and Dr. James Christie were also loud in their praises. It seems that both of these gentlemen had attempted to dispatch a private expedition to the relief of their countrymen, but through some means in it failed. They had contributed the sum of five hundred dollars to effect this laudable object, but the man to whom they had entrusted its command had been engaged by another for a different purpose at a higher sum. But instead of feeling annoyed that I had performed what they had intended to do, they were among my most enthusiastic admirers. The next day I received a call from Dr. Kirk, who warmly congratulated me upon my success. Bishop Tozer also came and thanked me for the service I had rendered to Dr. Livingston On this day I also discharged my men and re-engaged twenty of them to return to the great master. Bombay, though in the interior he had scorned the idea of money rewards, and though he had systematically in my greatest need endeavored to baffle me in every way, received besides his pay a present of fifty dollars, and each man according to his merits from twenty to fifty dollars. This was a day to bury all animosities and condone all offenses. They, poor people, had only acted according to their nature, and I remembered that from Eugigi to the coast they had all behaved admirably. I saw I was terribly emaciated and changed when I presented myself before a full-length mirror. All confirmed my opinion that I was much older in my appearance and that my hair had become gray. Captain Frazier had said, when I hailed him, you have the advantage of me, sir, and until I mentioned my name he did not know me. Even then he jacosely remarked that he believed it was another titchpin affair. I was so different that identity was almost lost even during the short period of thirteen months, that is, from March twenty-third, eighteen-seventy-one, to May seventh, eighteen-seventy-two. Lieutenant Hen the morning after my arrival formally resigned, and the expedition was from this time in the hands of Mr. Oswell Livingston, who made up his mind to sell the stores retaining such as would be useful to his father. After disbanding my exhibition I set about preparing another, according to Dr. Livingston's request. What the English expedition lacked I purchased out of the money advanced by Mr. Oswell Livingston. The guns, fifty in number, were also furnished out of the stores of the English expedition by him, and so were the ammunitions, the Honga cloth for the tribute to the Wagogo, and the cloth for provisioning the force. Mr. Livingston worked hard in the interest of his father and assisted me to the utmost of his ability. He delivered over to me to be packed up nautical almanacs for eighteen-seventy-two, eighteen-seventy-three, eighteen-seventy-four, also a chronometer which formerly belonged to Dr. Livingston. All these things, besides a journal, envelopes, notebooks, writing paper, medicines, canned fruits and fish, a little wine, some tea, cutlery and tableware, newspapers, and private letters and dispatches were packed up in airtight ten boxes, as well as one hundred pounds of fine American flour, and some boxes of soda biscuits. Until the nineteenth of May it was understood that Mr. Oswell Livingston would take charge of the caravan to his father. But about this date he changed his mind, and surprised me with a note stating he had decided not to go to Unyanyembe for reasons he thought just and sufficient. Under these circumstances my duty was to follow out the instructions of Dr. Livingston in procuring a good and efficient leader to take charge of the caravan as far as Unyanyembe. In a few hours I succeeded in obtaining an Arab highly recommended from Sheik HaShid, whom I engaged at an advance of one hundred dollars. The young Arab, though not remarkably bright, seemed honest and able, but I left his further employment after reaching Unyanyembe to Dr. Livingston, who would be able to decide then whether he was quite trustworthy. The next day I collected the men of the new Livingston expedition together, and as it was dangerous to allow them to wander about the city I locked them up in a courtyard and fed them there until every soul, fifty-seven in number, answered to their names. In the meantime, through the American consul's assistance, I obtained the services of Jihari, the chief drago-man of the American consulate, who was charged with the conduct of the party across the inundated plain of the King Ghani, and who was enjoined on no account to return until the expedition had started on its march from the western bank of the King Ghani River. Mr. Oswell Livingston generously paid him a dooser for the promise of doing his work thoroughly. A dow having been brought to anchor before the American consulate, I then addressed my old companions, saying, You are now about to return to Unyanyembe, to the great master. You know him. You know he is a good man and has a kind heart. He is different from me. He will not beat you as I have done. But you know I have rewarded you all, how I have made you all rich in cloth and money. You know how, when you behaved yourselves well, I was your friend. I gave you plenty to eat and plenty to wear. When you were sick, I looked after you. If I was so good to you, the great master will be much more so. He has a pleasant voice and speaks kind. When did you ever see him lift his hand against an offender? When you were wicked, he did not speak to you in anger. He spoke to you in tones of sorrow. Now will you promise me that you will follow him, do what he tells you, obey him in all things, and not desert him? We will, we will, my master, they all cried fervently. Then there is one thing more. I want to shake hands with you all before you go, and we part forever. And they all rushed up at once, and a vigorous shake was interchanged with each man. Now let every man take up his load. In a short time I marched them out into the street and to the beach, and saw them all on board and the canvas hoisted and the dow speeding westward on her way to Bagamoyo. I felt strange and lonely somehow. My dark friends, who had traveled over so many hundreds of miles, and shared so many dangers with me, were gone, and I was left behind. How many of their friendly faces shall I see again? On the twenty-ninth the steamer Africa, belonging to the German consulate, was chartered by a party of five of us, and we departed from Zanzibar to Seychelles, with the wishes of almost all the European residents on the island. We arrived at Seychelles on the ninth of June, about twelve hours after the French mail had departed for Aden. As there is only monthly communication between Mahé, Seychelles, and Aden, we were compelled to remain on the island of Mahé one month. My life in Mahé is among the most agreeable things connected with my return from Africa. I found my companions estimable gentlemen and true Christians. Mr. Livingston exhibited many amiable traits of character, and proved himself to be a studious, thoughtful, earnest man. When at last the French steamer came from Mauritius, there was not one of our party who did not regret leaving the beautiful island, and the hospitable British officers who were stationed there. The civil commissioner, Mr. Hales Franklin, and Dr. Brooks did their utmost to welcome the wanderer, and I take this opportunity to acknowledge the many civilities I personally received from them. At Aden, the passengers from the south were transferred on board the French mail steamer, the Mekong, en route from China to Marseille. At the latter port I was received with open arms by Dr. Hosmer and the representatives of the Daily Telegraph, and was then told how many men regarded the results of the expedition, but it was not until I arrived in England that I realized it. Mr. Bennett, who had originated and sustained the enterprise, now crowned it by one of the most generous acts that could be conceived. I had promised Dr. Livingston that twenty-four hours after I saw his letters to Mr. Bennett, published in the London journals, I would post his letters to his family and friends in England. In order to permit me to keep my plighted word, and in order that there might be no delay in the delivery of his family letters, Mr. Bennett's agent telegraphed to New York the hair-old letters I had received from Dr. Livingston at an expense of nearly two thousand pounds. And now, dear reader, the time has come for you and I depart. Let us hope that it is not final. A traveler finds himself compelled to repeat the regretful parting words often. During the career recorded in the foregoing book, I have bidden many farewells to the Wagogo with their fierce effrontery, to Mianvou, whose blackmailing once so affected me, to the Wavinza, whose noisy clatter promised to provoke dire hostilities, to the inhospitable Rorundi, to the Arab slave traders and half-case, to all fevers remittant and intermittent, to the sloughs and swamps of Makata, to the brackish waters and howling wastes, to my own dusky friends and lovers, and to the hero-traveller and Christian gentleman, David Livingston. It is with kindliest wishes to all who have followed my footsteps on these pages that I repeat once more farewell. How I found Livingston travels, adventures and discoveries in Central Africa, including four months residence with Dr. Livingston by Sir Henry M. Stanley, concluding chapter. The following correspondence, and especially the last letter, which was accompanied by a beautiful and valuable gold snuff box set with brilliance, will be treasured by me as among the pleasantest results of my undertaking. HMS For an office, August the first. Sir, I am directed by Earl Granville to acknowledge the recept of a packet containing letters and dispatches from Dr. Livingston, which you are good enough to deliver to her Majesty's ambassador at Paris for transmission to this department, and I am to convey to you his lordship's thanks for taking charge of these interesting documents. I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant and field, Henry M. Stanley, Squire, New York Herald Bureau, 46, Fleet Street, London. London, August the second. Henry M. Stanley, Squire, has handed me today the diary of Dr. Livingston, my father, sealed and signed by my father, with instructions written on the outside, signed by my father, for the care of which and for all his actions concerning and to my father, our very best thanks out you. We have not the slightest reason to doubt that this is my father's journal, and I certify that the letters he has brought home are my father's letters and no others. Tom S. Livingston. August the second, 1872. Sir, I was not aware until you mentioned it that there was any doubt as to the authenticity of Dr. Livingston's dispatches, which you delivered to Lord Lyons on the 31st of July, but in consequence of what you said, I have inquired into the matter, and I find that Mr. Hammond, the undersecretary of the Foreign Office, and Mr. Wilde, the head of the consular and slave trade department, have not the slightest doubt as to the genuineness of the papers which have been received from Lord Lyons and which are being printed. I cannot omit this opportunity of expressing to you my admiration of the qualities which have enabled you to achieve the object of your mission, and to attain a result which has been hailed with so much enthusiasm both in the United States and in this country. I am Sir, your obedient, Granville, Henry Stanley Esquire. Foreign Office, August the 27th. Sir, I have great satisfaction in conveying to you by command of the Queen Her Majesty's high appreciation of the prudence and seal which you have displayed in opening a communication with Dr. Livingston and relieving Her Majesty from the anxiety which, in common with her subjects, she had felt in regard to the fate of that distinguished traveller. The Queen desires me to express her thanks for the service you have thus rendered. Together with Her Majesty's congratulations on your having so successfully carried on the mission which you fearlessly undertook. Her Majesty also desires me to request your acceptance of the memorial which accompanies this letter. I am Sir, your most obedient humble servant, Granville, and of the concluding chapter and of how I found Livingston by Sir Henry M. Stanley.