Stanley's Adventures in the Wilds of Africa Part 9

"What could a man have exaggerated of these facts? What a budget of news it was to one who had emerged from the depths of the primeval forests of Manyuema! The reflection of the dazzling light of civilization was cast on him while Livingstone was thus listening in wonder to one of the most exciting pa.s.sages of history ever repeated. How the puny deeds of barbarism paled before these! Who could tell under what new phases of uneasy life Europe was laboring even then, while we two of her lonely children rehea.r.s.ed the tale of her late woes and glories? More worthily, perhaps, had the tongue of a lyric Demodocus recounted them; but in the absence of the poet, the newspaper correspondent performed his part as well and truthfully as he could.

"Not long after the Arabs had departed, a dishful of hot hashed-meat cakes was sent to us by Sayd bin Majid, and a curried chicken was received from Mohammed bin Sali, and Moeni Kheri sent a dishful of stewed goat meat and rice; and thus presents of food came in succession, and as fast as they were brought we set to. I had a healthy, stubborn digestion, the exercise I had taken had put it in prime order, but Livingstone--he had been complaining that he had no appet.i.te, that his stomach refused everything but a cup of tea now and then--he ate also--ate like a vigorous, hungry man; and as he vied with me in demolishing the pancakes, he kept repeating, 'You have brought me new life.'

"'Oh, by George,' I said, 'I have forgotten something. Hasten, Selim, and bring that bottle; you know which; and bring me the silver goblets.

I brought this bottle on purpose for this event, which I hoped would come to pa.s.s, though often it seemed useless to expect it.'

"Selim knew where the bottle was, and he soon returned with it--a bottle of Sillery champagne; and, handing the doctor a silver goblet brimful of the exhilarating wine, and pouring a small quant.i.ty into my own, I said: 'Dr. Livingstone, to your very good health, sir.'

"'And to yours,' he responded.

"And the champagne I had treasured for this happy meeting was drank with hearty good wishes to each other.

"But we kept on talking and talking, and prepared food was brought to us all that afternoon, and we kept on eating every time it was brought until I had eaten even to repletion, and the doctor was obliged to confess that he had eaten enough. Still, Halimah, the female cook of the doctor's establishment, was in a state of the greatest excitement. She had been protruding her head out of the cook-house, to make sure that there were really two white men sitting down in the veranda, when there used to be only one, who would not, because he could not, eat anything; and she had been considerably exercised in her mind over this fact. She was afraid the doctor did not properly appreciate her culinary abilities; but now she was amazed at the extraordinary quant.i.ty of food eaten, and she was in a state of delightful excitement. We could hear her tongue rolling off a tremendous volume of clatter to the wondering crowds who halted before the kitchen to hear the current of news with which she edified them. Poor, faithful soul. While we listen to the noise of her furious gossip, the doctor related her faithful services and the terrible anxiety she evinced when the guns first announced the arrival of another white man in Ujiji; how she had been flying about in a state of the utmost excitement, from the kitchen into his presence, and out again into the square, asking all sorts of questions; how she was in despair at the scantiness of the general larder and treasury of the strange household; how she was anxious to make up for their poverty by a grand appearance--to make up a sort of Barmecide feast to welcome the white man.

"'Why,' said she, 'is he not one of us? Does he not bring plenty of cloth and beads? Talk about the Arabs! Who are they, that they should be compared to white men? Arabs, indeed!'

"The doctor and I conversed upon many things, especially upon his own immediate troubles, and his disappointment upon his arrival at Ujiji when told that all his goods had been sold, and he was reduced to poverty. He had but twenty cloths or so left of the stock he had deposited with the man called sheriff, the half-caste, drunken tailor, who was sent by the British consul in charge of the goods. Besides which he had been suffering from an attack of the dysentery, and his condition was most deplorable. He was but little improved on this day, though he had eaten well, and already began to feel stronger and better.

"This day, like all others, though big with happiness to me, at last, was fading away. We, sitting with our faces looking to the east, as Livingstone had been sitting for days preceding my arrival, noted the dark shadow which crept up above the grove of palms beyond the village, and above the rampart of mountains which we had crossed that day, now looming through the fast-approaching darkness; and we listened, with our hearts full of grat.i.tude to the great Giver of Good and Dispenser of all Happiness to the sonorous thunder of the surf of the Tanganika, and to the chorus which the night insects sang. Hours pa.s.sed, and we were still sitting there with our minds busy upon the day's remarkable events, when I remembered that the venerable traveler had not yet read his letters.

"'Doctor,' I said, 'you had better read your letters. I will not keep you up any longer.'

"'Yes,' he answered, 'it is getting late, and I will go and read my friends' letters. Good-night, and G.o.d bless you.'

"'Good-night, my dear doctor, and let me hope, your news will be such as you desire.'"

Since the creation of the world there never has occurred such another interview. The feelings of Stanley that night, in the heart of Africa, can only be imagined. The strain had ended, the doubt and suspense were over--_he had found Livingstone!_ he had succeeded; his most extravagant dreams had been realized; his wildest ambition was satisfied, and from that hour the adventurer, the newspaper correspondent, took his place among the great explorers of the world. But it was no stroke of luck,--it was the fitting reward of great risks and great endeavor.

CHAPTER IX.

STANLEY'S HOMEWARD MARCH.

Rest and repose were now enjoyed to the full by Stanley. His long struggles, his doubts and fears, his painful anxiety were over, and the end toward which he had strained with such unflagging resolution, the most disheartening circ.u.mstances, and which at times seemed to recede the more as he pressed forward, was at last reached. The sweet repose, the calm satisfaction and enjoyment which always come with the consciousness of complete success, now filled his heart, and he felt as none can feel but he who has at last won a long and doubtful battle. It was complete rest, the entire fruition of his hopes; and as he sat down there in the heart of Africa, beside Livingstone, he was doubtless for at least the first few days, the happiest man on the globe, and well he deserved to be. The goal was won, the prize secured, and for the time being his utmost desires were satisfied. Why should he not be happy?

His intercourse with Livingstone for the next four months will be marked by him as the brightest portion of his eventful life. Independent of all he had undergone to find this remarkable man, the man himself enlisted all his sympathies and awakened his most extravagant admiration and purest love, and a more charming picture can hardly be conceived than these two men, walking at sunset along the beach of the wild and lonely lake of Tanganika, talking over the strange scenes and objects of their strange, new world, or recalling home and friends far away amid all the comforts and luxuries of civilization. The man whom Stanley had at last found was almost as new and startling a revelation to him as the country in which he had found him. Simple, earnest, unselfish--nay, unambitious, so far as personal fame was concerned, borne up in all his sufferings and trials by one great and n.o.ble purpose, and conquering even savage hate by the power of goodness alone, he was an object of the profoundest interest. And no greater eulogium on the innate goodness and n.o.bleness of Stanley's nature could be given than he unconsciously bestowed on himself by the deep attachment, nay, almost adoration, he expresses for this lonely, quiet, good man. He fastens to him at once, and casting off old prejudices and rejecting all former criticisms of his character, he impulsively becomes his champion, and crowns him the prince of men.

The talk between them at their first meeting in this far-off land, was long and pleasant, and when the good-night was given, it was with strange feelings that Stanley turned into his allotted sleeping place in a regular bed. After all the toils and almost unnatural excitement of the day, he soon sank into profound slumber. The next morning he awoke with a start, and looked about him for a moment in a dazed way. He was not on the ground, but in a bed; a roof, not a tent, was above him, while not a sound broke the stillness save the steady, monotonous roar of the surf beating on the sh.o.r.e. As he lay and listened, strange thoughts and varied emotions chased each other in rapid succession through his heart. At length he arose and dressed himself, intending before breakfast to take a stroll along the sh.o.r.e of the lake. But the doctor was up before him and met him with a cordial "Good-morning," and the hope that he had rested well.

Livingstone had sat up late reading the news that Stanley had brought him from the outside world, from which he had heard nothing for years.

"Sit down," said the venerable man, "you have brought me good and bad news," and then he repeated, first of all, the tidings he had received from his children.

In the excitement of the day before, the doctor had forgotten to inquire of Stanley the object of his coming, or where he was going, and the latter now said: "Doctor, you are probably wondering why I came here."

"It is true," was the reply, "I have been wondering."

That wonder was increased when Stanley said: "I came after you, nothing else."

"After me!" exclaimed the now utterly bewildered man.

"Yes," said Stanley, "after you. I suppose you have heard of the New York _Herald_?"

"Yes," said the doctor.

"Well, Mr. Bennett, son of the proprietor, sent me, at his own expense, to find you."

Poor Livingstone could hardly comprehend the fact that an American, and a stranger, should expend $25,000 to find him, a solitary Englishman.

Stanley lived now some four months in the closest intimacy with Livingstone. Removed from all the formalities of civilized life--the only two in that far-off land who could converse in the English language, and who were of the same lineage and faith--their relations of necessity became very intimate. All restraint was thrown off, and this n.o.ble man poured into the astonished ears of Stanley all he had thought, prayed for, endured and suffered for the last long five years. It was a new revelation to his hearer. It opened up a new world; gave him a new and loftier conception of what human nature is capable of attaining, and he says: "I had gone over battle-fields, witnessed revolutions, civil wars, rebellions, emeutes and ma.s.sacres; stood close to the condemned murderer to record his last struggles and last sighs; but never had I been called to record anything that moved me so much as this man's woes and sufferings, his privations and disappointments, which were now poured into my ear. Verily did I begin to believe that 'the G.o.ds above us do with just eyes survey the affairs of men.' I began to recognize the hand of an overruling Providence."

After resting for a week, during which time Stanley became thoroughly acquainted with Livingstone and learned to respect and love him more and more, the former asked the doctor if he would not like to explore the north end of the Tanganika Lake and among other things, settle the question whether the Rusizi River flowed _into_ or _out_ of the lake.

The doctor gladly consented, and they set off in a canoe manned by sixteen rowers. The weather was fine, the scenery charming, and it seemed like floating through a fairyland. Day after day they kept on--landing at night on the picturesque sh.o.r.es, undisturbed, except in one or two instances, by the natives. The luxuriant banks were lined with villages, filled with an indolent, contented people. With no wants except food to eat, and the lake full of fish, they had nothing to stimulate them to activity or effort of any kind.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VILLAGE ON TANGANIKA LAKE]

Islands came and went, mountains rose and faded on the horizon, and it was one long holiday to our two explorers. As the rowers bent steadily to their oars and the canoe glided softly through the rippling waters, they spent the time in admiring the beautiful scenery that kept changing like a kaleidoscope, or talking of home and friends and the hopes and prospects of the future. A hippopotamus would now and then startle them by his loud snort, as he suddenly lifted his head near the boat to breathe, wild fowl skittered away as they approached, a sweet fragrance came down from the hill-sides, and the tropical sky bent soft and blue above them. The conventionalities of life were far away and all was calm and peaceful, and seemed to Stanley more like a dream than a reality. They were thus voyaging along the coast twenty-eight days, during which time they had traversed over three hundred miles of water.

But at last the time came for Stanley to turn his footsteps homeward. He tried in vain to prevail on Livingstone to go home with him, but the latter, though anxious to see his children, resolutely refused, saying that he must finish his work. He, however, concluded to accompany Stanley as far as Unyanyembe, to meet the stores which had been forwarded to that place for him from Zanzibar. On the 27th of December, therefore, they set out by a new route. Nothing occurred in the long journey of special interest, except the shooting of a zebra or a buffalo, the meeting of a herd of elephants or giraffes, or a lion. It was a tedious and toilsome journey, during which Stanley suffered from attacks of fever, and Livingstone from lacerated feet. They were fifty-three days on the march, but at last Unyanyembe was reached.

Stanley once more took possession of his old quarters. Here both found letters and papers from home, brought by a recent caravan, and once more they seemed put in communication with the outside world. Being well-housed and provided with everything they needed, they felt thoroughly comfortable.

The doctor's boxes were first broken open, and between the number of poor articles they contained and the absence of good ones which had been abstracted on the way, they proved something of a disappointment.

Stanley then overhauled his own stores, of which there were seventy-four loads, the most valuable of which he intended to turn over to Livingstone. These also had been tampered with; still many luxuries remained, and they determined to have their Christmas dinner over again.

Stanley arranged the bill of fare, and it turned out grandly. But now he saw that he must begin to prepare for his return to the coast, and so he left Livingstone to write up his journal and to finish the letters he was to send home. In overhauling the stores and making up the packages he should need on his return route, he was able to select and turn over to the doctor two thousand seven hundred and eighty-eight yards of cloth, nine hundred and ninety-two pounds of a.s.sorted beads, three hundred and fifty pounds of bra.s.s wire, besides bed, canvas boat, carpenters' tools, rifles, revolvers, ammunition, cooking utensils and various other articles of use, making in all about forty loads. These, with the doctor's personal stores, made Livingstone quite a rich man for Central Africa--in fact, he had a four years' supply.

At length the letters were all written, the loads strapped, and the next day fixed for Stanley to turn his face homeward and Livingstone his to the heart of Africa. At night the natives gave a great dance as a farewell compliment, and a wild, weird dance it was. Bombay wore a water-bucket on his head, while each carried or wore something grotesque or dangerous. The first was a war dance, and when it ended, a second and different one was started, accompanied by a chorus or song chanted in a slow, mournful tone, of which the burden was "Oh-oh-oh, the white man is going home."

That night as Stanley lay and pondered on the morrow, when he should see the "good man" for the last time, he was filled with the keenest sorrow.

He had grown to love him like a father; and to see him turn back alone to the savage life he must encounter in his great work, seemed like giving him over to death.

It was a sad breakfast to which the two sat down next morning. But it was over at last and the parting hour came.

"Doctor," said Stanley, "I will leave two men with you for a couple of days, lest you may have forgotten something, and will wait for them at Tura; and now we must part--there is no help for it--good-bye."

"Oh," replied Livingstone, "I am coming with you a little way; I must see you off on the road;" and the two walked on side by side, their hearts burdened with grief.

At last Stanley said: "Now, my dear doctor, the best friends must part, you have come far enough, let me beg of you to turn back."

Livingstone stopped and, seizing Stanley's hand, said: "I am grateful to you for what you have done for me. G.o.d guide you safe home and bless you, my friend."

"And may G.o.d bring you safe back to us all, my friend," replied Stanley, with a voice choked with emotion. "_Farewell._"

They wrung each other's hands in silence for a minute, and then Stanley turned away to hide his tears, murmuring: "Good-bye, doctor; dear friend, good-bye."

He would not have been the man he is, not to have been overcome at this parting; alas, to be, as it proved, a final parting, so far as concerns meeting again in this life. But this was not all--the doctor's faithful servants would not be forgotten, and rushing forward, they seized Stanley's hands and kissed them for their good master's sake. The stern and almost tyrannical man, that neither danger nor suffering could move, completely broke down under this last demonstration and could recover himself only by giving the sharp order, MARCH! and he almost drove his men before him, and soon a turn in the path shut out Livingstone's form forever. Yes, forever, so far as the living, speaking man is concerned, but shut out _never_ from Stanley's life. That one man fixed his destiny for this world, and who knows but for the eternal ages? No wonder that he said, long after, "My eyes grow dim at the remembrance of that parting. For four months and four days I lived with him in the same house, or in the same boat, or in the same tent, and I never found a fault in him. I am a man of a quick temper, and often without sufficient cause, I dare say, have broken ties of friendship; but with Livingstone I never had cause of resentment, but each day's life with him added to my admiration of him."