How I Found Livingstone Part 39

Leaving Kulabi, we traversed a naked, red, loamy plain, over which the wind from the heights of Usagara, now rising a bluish-black jumble of mountains in our front, howled most fearfully. With clear, keen, incisive force, the terrible blasts seemed to penetrate through an through our bodies, as though we were but filmy gauze. Manfully battling against this mighty "peppo"--storm--we pa.s.sed through Mukamwa's, and crossing a broad sandy bed of a stream, we entered the territory of Mvumi, the last tribute-levying chief of Ugogo.

The 4th of April, after sending Bombay and my friendly Mgogo with eight doti, 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 "Marenga Mkali"--the "hard," bitter or brackish, water.

From our camp I despatched three men to Zanzibar with letters to the American Consul, and telegraphic despatches 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 they did not hurry up we should catch them before they reached the coast. With a fervent "Inshallah, bana," they departed.

On the 5th, 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 Wagogo. 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 salina. On the 7th, amid a pelting rain, we entered Mpwapwa, where my Scotch a.s.sistant, Farquhar, died. We had performed the extraordinary march of 338 English statute miles from the 14th of March to the 7th of April, or within twenty-four days, inclusive of halts, which was a little over fourteen miles a day.

Leukole, the chief of Mpwapwa, 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, while 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 blanket, and moved off to the tembe of a Mnyamwezi, near Kisokweh, 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 doti (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 Shaw's grave eight feet long and five feet broad, which Dr. Livingstone said would last hundreds of years, as the grave of the first white man who died in Unyamwezi. But though we could not discover any remains of the unfortunate Farquhar, we collected a large quant.i.ty 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 Mukondokwa 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 brimful, and broad nullahs 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 Kadetamare on the 11th, 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.

On the 12th of April, after six hours of the weariest march I had ever undergone, we arrived at the mouth of the Mukondokwa Pa.s.s, out of which the river debouches into the Plain of Makata. We knew that it was an unusual season, for the condition of the country, though bad enough the year before, was as 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 waist in water, and sometimes up to the throat. Urgent 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 in mire, under jungly tunnels dripping with wet, then into sloughs arm-pit 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 Mvumi.

We pa.s.sed the night fighting swarms of black and voracious mosquitoes, and in heroic endeavours to win repose in sleep, in which we were partly successful, owing to the utter weariness of our bodies.

On the 13th we struck out of the village of Mvumi. 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 river-side once again, where the river was narrow, and too deep to ford 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 over-zeal, or in sheer 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 despatches.

Fortunately, he recovered himself and stood up, while I shouted to him, with a loaded revolver pointed at his head, "Look out! Drop that bog, and I'll shoot you."

All the men halted in their work while they gazed at their comrade who was thus imperilled 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 ash.o.r.e. As the articles within were not damaged, Rojab escaped punishment, with a caution not to touch the bog again on any account, and it was transferred to the keeping of the sure-footed and perfect pagazi, 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 180 feet long, with one end of which tied round his body, Chowpereh 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 we 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; the one on the bank which I had just left occupying an ant-hill of considerable height; while my party had to content itself with a flat, miry marsh. An embankment of soil, nearly a foot high, was thrown up in a circle thirty feet in diameter, in the centre 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.

Livingstone'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 on to the rope, with the ends of the poles resting on the men's shoulders, I thought, would be enabled to convey over a 70 lb. 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 gla.s.s of stiff grog each man, with a promise of cloth to each also if they succeeded in getting everything ash.o.r.e 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 entire 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 Rehenneko, 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 Rehenneko, or until the 25th, 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 quant.i.ty 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 in water it was use less 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 nullahs, 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; and when the horn sounded for the march of another day, there was not one dissentient amongst them.

It was 5 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 Wami. This was the confluence of the streams: four rivers were here gathered into one. The natives of Kigongo 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. Even 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 shallowed to the knee, then we stepped up to the neck, and waded on tiptoe, 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 park-lands which extended as far as Simbo. We had no other option than to swim it; but it was a slow operation, the current was so swift and strong. Activity and zeal, high rewards, presents 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 ardor 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 29th we crossed the Ungerengeri, and as we came to Simbamwenni-the "Lion City" of Useguhha--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. Villages of Waruguru, on the slopes of the Uruguru Mountains--Mkambaku 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 Kimbengo was no more! A deep ca.n.a.l that he had caused to be excavated when alive, to bring a branch of the Ungerengeri near his city--which was his glory and boast--proved the ruin of Simbamwenni. After the destruction of the place the river had formed a new bed, about 300 yards from the city. But what astonished us most were the ma.s.ses of debris which seemed 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 south-west. The aspect of the Ungerengeri valley was completely changed--from a Paradise it was converted into a howling waste.

We continued our march until we reached Ulagalla, and it was evident, as we advanced, that an unusual storm had pa.s.sed over the land, for the trees in some places seemed to lie in swathes.

A most fatiguing and long march brought us to Mussoudi, on the eastern bank of the Ungerengeri; but long before 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 Mussoudi's report, were swept away.

Mussoudi, the Diwan, 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 woke 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 Unyanyembe. When I asked Mussoudi where the people had gone to, he replied, "G.o.d has taken most of them, but some have gone to Udoe."

The surest blow ever struck at the tribe of the Wakami was indeed given by the hand of G.o.d; and, to use the words of the Diwan, "G.o.d's power is wonderful, and who can resist Him!"

I again resort to my Diary, and extract the following:

April 30th.--Pa.s.sing Msuwa, we travelled hurriedly through the jungle which saw such hard work with us when going to Unyanyembe. 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 bottleful of concentrated miasma, such as we inhale herein, collected, what a deadly poison, instantaneous in its action, undiscoverable in its properties, would it be! I think it would act quicker than chloroform, be as fatal as prussic 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.w.a.ter" 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 verity, are the ten plagues of Egypt, through which a traveller in these regions must run the gauntlet:

1. Plague of boas. | 7. Suffocation from the 2. Red ants, or "hot-water." | density of the jungle. 3 Scorpions. | 8. Stench.

4. Thorns and spear cacti. | 9. Thorns in the road. 5. Numerous impediments. | 10. Miasma. 6 Black mud knee-deep. |

May 1st. Kingaru Hera.--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 Bagamoyo and Whinde, 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 evidences of the effects of the storm in the interior. I hear, also, that there are white men at Bagamoyo, 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 despatched from Mvumi, 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 Consul, 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 learn 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 a.s.sistants; they, poor fellows, found their fate in the inhospitable regions of the interior.

One of my letters received from Zanzibar by my messengers states that there is an expedition at Bagamoyo called the "Livingstone Search and Relief Expedition." What will the leaders of it do now? Livingstone is found and relieved already. Livingstone 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 Kingwere's Ferry, but we were unable to attract the attention of the canoe paddler. Between our camp and Bagamoyo we have an inundated plain that is at least four miles broad. The ferrying of our Expedition across this broad watery waste will occupy considerable time.

May 5th.--Kingwere, the canoe proprietor, came about 11 A.M. from his village at Gongoni, beyond the watery plain. By his movements I am fain 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 ill.u.s.trated as in Kingwere. He brought two canoes with him, short, cranky things, in which only twelve of us could embark at a time. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon before we arrived at Gongoni village.

May 6th.--After impressing Kingwere with the urgent necessity of quick action on his part, with a promise of an extra five-dollar gold piece, I had the satisfaction to behold the last man reach my camp at 3.30 p.m.

An hour later, and we are en route, at a pace that I never saw equalled 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. Surely, my own are a faithful index to their feelings; and I do not feel a whit 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 that as at the hope that to-morrow I shall sit before a table bounteous 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 coa.r.s.e, loathsome food--until you have waded a Makata swamp, and marched 525 miles in thirty-five days through such weather as we have had--then you will think such pabula, food fit for G.o.ds!

Happy are we that,--after completing our mission, after the hurry and worry of the march, after the anxiety and vexation suffered from fractious tribes, after tramping for the last fifteen days through mire and Stygian marsh,--we near Beulah's peace and rest! Can we do otherwise than express our happiness by firing away gunpowder until our horns are emptied--than shout our "hurrahs" until we are hoa.r.s.e--than, with the hearty, soul-inspiring "Yambos," greet every mother's son fresh from the sea? Not so, think the w.a.n.gwana 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,"

were the words heard in Beulah. "The white man has come to town," were the words we heard in Bagamoyo. And we shall cross the water tomorrow to Zanzibar, and shall enter the golden gate; we shall see nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing that is offensive to the stomach any more!

The kirangozi blows his horn, and gives forth blasts potential as Astolpho's, as the natives and Arabs throng around us. And that bright flag, whose stars have waved over the waters of the great lake in Central Africa, which promised relief to the hara.s.sed Livingstone when in distress at Ujiji, returns to the sea once again--torn, it is true, but not dishonoured--tattered, but not disgraced.

As we reached the middle of the town, I saw on the steps of a large white house a white man, in flannels and helmet 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.