How I Found Livingstone - Henry M. Stanley (best ereader for comics txt) 📗
- Author: Henry M. Stanley
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what I considered my own especial business; but I restrained
myself, though I told them, in a loud voice, that I did not choose
to be interfered with, unless they wished to quarrel with me.
“No, no, bana,” they all exclaimed; “we do not wish to quarrel
with you. In the name of God! go on your way in peace.”
“Fare you well, then,” said I, shaking hands with them.
“Farewell, master, farewell. We wish you, we are sure, all
success, and God be with you, and guide you!”
“March!”
A parting salute was fired; the flags were raised up by the
guides, each pagazi rushed for his load, and in a short time,
with songs and shouts, the head of the Expedition had filed
round the western end of my tembe along the road to Ugunda.
“Now, Mr. Shaw, I am waiting, sir. Mount your donkey, if you
cannot walk.”
“Please, Mr. Stanley, I am afraid I cannot go.”
Why?”
“I don’t know, I am sure. I feel very weak.”
“So am I weak. It was but late last night, as you know, that the
fever left me. Don’t back out before these Arabs; remember you
are a white man. Here, Selim, Mabruki, Bombay, help Mr. Shaw on
his donkey, and walk by him.”
“Oh, bana, bans,” said the Arabs, “don’t take him. Do you not see
he is sick? “
” You keep away; nothing will prevent me from taking him. He
shall go.”
“Go on, Bombay.”
The last of my party had gone. The tembe, so lately a busy
scene, had already assumed a naked, desolate appearance.
I turned towards the Arabs, lifted my hat, and said again,
“Farewell,” then faced about for the south, followed by my
four young gunbearers, Selim, Kalulu, Majwara, and Belali.
After half an hour’s march the scenery became more animated.
Shaw began to be amused. Bombay had forgotten our quarrel,
and assured me, if I could pass Mirambo’s country, I should
“catch the Tanganika;” Mabruki Burton also believed we should.
Selim was glad to leave Unyanyembe, where he had suffered so much
from fever; and there was a something in the bold aspect of the
hills which cropped upward—above fair valleys, that enlivened
and encouraged me to proceed.
In an hour and a half, we arrived at our camp in the Kinyamwezi
village of Mkwenkwe, the birthplace—of our famous chanter Maganga.
My tent was pitched, the goods were stored in one of the tembes;
but one-half the men had returned to Kwihara, to take one more
embrace of their wives and concubines.
Towards night I was attacked once again with the intermittent
fever. Before morning it had departed, leaving me terribly
prostrated with weakness. I had heard the men conversing with each
other over their camp-fires upon the probable prospects of the next
day. It was a question with them whether I should continue the
march. Mostly all were of opinion that, since the master was
sick, there would be no march. A superlative obstinacy, however,
impelled me on, merely to spite their supine souls; but when I
sallied out of my tent to call them to get ready, I found that
at least twenty were missing; and Livingstone’s letter-carrier,
“Kaif-Halek”—or, How-do-ye-do?—had not arrived with Dr.
Livingstone’s letter-bag.
Selecting twenty of the strongest and faithfulest men I despatched
them back to Unyanyembe in search of the missing men; and Selim
was sent to Sheikh bin Nasib to borrow, or buy, a long slave-chain.
Towards night my twenty detectives returned with nine of the
missing men. The Wajiji had deserted in a body, and they could
not be found. Selim also returned with a strong chain, capable of
imprisoning within the collars attached to it at least ten men.
Kaif-Halek also appeared with the letter-bag which he was to convey
to Livingstone under my escort. The men were then addressed, and
the slave-chain exhibited to them. I told them that I was the
first white man who had taken a slave-chain with him on his travels;
but, as they were all so frightened of accompanying me, I was obliged
to make use of it, as it was the only means of keeping them together.
The good need never fear being chained by me—only the deserters,
the thieves, who received their hire and presents, guns and
ammunition, and then ran away.
I would not put any one this time in chains; but whoever
deserted after this day, I should halt, and not continue the march
till I found him, after which he should march to Ujiji with the
slave-chain round his neck. “Do you hear?”—“Yes,” was the
answer. “Do you understand?”—” Yes.”
We broke up camp at 6 P.M., and took the road for Inesuka, at which
place we arrived at 8 P.M.
When we were about commencing the march the next morning, it was
discovered that two more had deserted. Baraka and Bombay were at
once despatched to Unyanyembe to bring back the two missing
men—Asmani and Kingaru—with orders not to return without them.
This was the third time that the latter had deserted, as the reader
may remember. While the pursuit was being effected we halted at
the village of Inesuka, more for the sake of Shaw than any one
else.
In the evening the incorrigible deserters were brought back, and,
as I had threatened, were well flogged and chained, to secure them
against further temptation. Bombay and Baraka had a picturesque
story to relate of the capture; and, as I was in an exceedingly
good humour, their services were rewarded with a fine cloth each.
On the following morning another carrier had absconded, taking with
him his hire of fifteen new cloths and a gun but to halt anywhere
near Unyanyembe any longer was a danger that could be avoided only
by travelling without stoppages towards the southern jungle-lands.
It will be remembered I had in my train the redoubtable Abdul
Kader, the tailor, he who had started from Bagamoyo with such
bright anticipations of the wealth of ivory to be obtained in the
great interior of Africa. On this morning, daunted by the reports
of the dangers ahead, Abdul Kader craved to be discharged. He
vowed he was sick, and unable to proceed any further. As I was
pretty well tired of him, I paid him off in cloth, and permitted
him to go.
About half way to Kasegera Mabruk Saleem was suddenly taken sick.
I treated him with a grain of calomel, and a couple of ounces of
brandy. As he was unable to walk, I furnished him with a donkey.
Another man named Zaidi was ill with a rheumatic fever; and Shaw
tumbled twice off the animal he was riding, and required an
infinite amount of coaxing to mount again. Verily, my expedition
was pursued by adverse fortunes, and it seemed as if the Fates had
determined upon our return. It really appeared as if everything
was going to wreck and ruin. If I were only fifteen days from
Unyanyembe, thought I, I should be saved!
Kasegera was a scene of rejoicing the afternoon and evening of our
arrival. Absentees had just returned from the coast, and the
youths were brave in their gaudy bedizenment, their new barsatis,
their soharis, and long cloths of bright new kaniki, with which
they had adorned themselves behind some bush before they had
suddenly appeared dressed in all this finery. The women “Hi-hi’ed”
like maenads, and the “Lu-lu-lu’ing” was loud, frequent, and
fervent the whole of that afternoon. Sylphlike damsels looked up
to the youthful heroes with intensest admiration on their
features; old women coddled and fondled them; staff-using,
stooping-backed patriarchs blessed them. This is fame in Unyamwezi!
All the fortunate youths had to use their tongues until the wee
hours of next morning had arrived, relating all the wonders they
had seen near the Great Sea, and in the “Unguja,” the island of
Zanzibar; of how they saw great white men’s ships, and numbers of
white men, of their perils and trials during their journey through
the land of the fierce Wagogo, and divers other facts, with which
the reader and I are by this time well acquainted.
On the 24th we struck camp, and marched through a forest of imbiti
wood in a S.S.W. direction, and in about three hours came to Kigandu.
On arriving before this village, which is governed by a daughter
of Mkasiwa, we were informed we could not enter unless we paid
toll. As we would not pay toll, we were compelled to camp in a
ruined, rat-infested boma, situated a mile to the left of Kigandu,
being well scolded by the cowardly natives for deserting Mkasiwa
in his hour of extremity. We were accused of running away from
the war.
Almost on the threshold of our camp Shaw, in endeavouring to
dismount, lost his stirrups, and fell prone on his face. The
foolish fellow actually, laid on the ground in the hot sun a
full hour; and when I coldly asked him if he did not feel
rather uncomfortable, he sat up, and wept like a child.
“Do you wish to go back, Mr. Shaw?”
“If you please. I do not believe I can go any farther; and
if you would only be kind enough, I should like to return very
much.”
“Well, Mr. Shaw, I have come to the conclusion that it is best,
you should return. My patience is worn out. I have endeavoured
faithfully to lift you above these petty miseries which you
nourish so devotedly. You are simply suffering from hypochondria.
You imagine yourself sick, and nothing, evidently, will persuade
you that you are not. Mark my words—to return to Unyanyembe,
is to DIE! Should you happen to fall sick in Kwihara who knows
how to administer medicine to you? Supposing you are delirious,
how can any of the soldiers know what you want, or what is
beneficial and necessary for you? Once again, I repeat, if you
return, you DIE!”
“Ah, dear me; I wish I had never ventured to come! I thought
life in Africa was so different from this. I would rather go
back if you will permit me.”
The next day was a halt, and arrangements were made for the
transportation of Shaw back to Kwihara. A strong litter was made,
and four stout pagazis were hired at Kigandu to carry him. Bread
was baked, a canteen was filled with cold tea, and a leg of a kid
was roasted for his sustenance while on the road.
The night before we parted we spent together. Shaw played some
tunes on an accordion which I had purchased for him at Zanzibar;
but, though it was only a miserable ten-dollar affair, I thought
the homely tunes evoked from the instrument that night were divine
melodies. The last tune played before retiring was “Home, sweet
Home.”
The morning of the 27th we were all up early: There was considerable
vis in our movements. A long, long march lay before us that day;
but then I was to leave behind all the sick and ailing. Only
those who were healthy, and could march fast and long, were to
accompany me. Mabruk Saleem I left in charge of a native doctor,
who was to medicate him for a gift of cloth which I gave him in
advance.
The horn sounded to get ready. Shaw was lifted in his litter on
the shoulders of his carriers. My men formed two ranks; the
flags were lifted; and between these two living rows, and under
those bright streamers, which were to float over the waters of
the Tanganika before he should see them again, Shaw was borne
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