Still wending their way on, it seemed as if they would not complete their task, for again at a clearing the sick man entreated them to place him on the ground, and to let him stay where he was. Fortunately at this moment some of the outlying huts of the village came in sight, and they tried to rally him by telling him that he would quickly be in the house that the others had gone to build; but they were obliged, as it was, to allow him to remain for an hour in the native gardens outside the town.
On reaching their companions, it was found that the work was not quite finished, and it became necessary, therefore, to lay him under the broad eaves of a native hut till things were ready.
Chitambo’s village at this time was almost empty. When the crops are growing, it is the custom to erect little temporary houses in the fields, and the inhabitants, leaving their more substantial huts, pass the time in watching their crops, which are scarcely more safe by day than by night; thus it was that the men found plenty of room and shelter ready to their hand. Many of the people approached the spot where he lay whose praises had reached them in previous years, and in silent wonder they stood around him, resting on their bows. Slight drizzling showers were falling, and as soon as possible his house was made ready, and banked around with earth.
Inside, the bed was raised from the floor by sticks and grass, occupying a position across and near to the bay-shaped end of the hut; in the bay itself bales and boxes were deposited, one of the latter doing duty for a table, on which the medicine-chest and sundry other things were placed. A fire was lighted outside, nearly opposite the door, while the boy, Majwara, slept just within, to attend to his master’s wants in the night.
On April 30th, 1873, Chitambo came early to pay a visit of courtesy, and was shown into the Doctor’s presence; but the Doctor was obliged to send him away, telling him to come again on the morrow, when he hoped to have more strength to talk to him, and he was not again disturbed. In the afternoon he asked Susi to bring his watch to the bedside, and explained to him the position in which to hold his hand, that it might lie in the palm while he slowly turned the key.
So the hours stole on till night-fall. Some of the men silently took to their huts, while others, whose duty it was to keep watch, sat around the fires, all feeling that the end could not be far off. About 11 P.M., Susi, whose hut was close by, was told to go to his master. At the time there were loud shouts in the distance, and, on entering, Dr. Livingstone said, “Are our men making that noise?” “No,” replied Susi; “I can hear, from the cries, that the people are scaring away a buffalo from their dura fields.” A few minutes afterward he said, slowly, and evidently wandering, “Is this Luapula?” Susi told him they were in Chitambo’s village, near the Molilamo, when he was silent for a while. Again, speaking to Susi, in Suaheli this time, he said, “How many days is it to the Luapula?” “I think it is three days, master,” replied Susi.
SUSI AND CHUMA, THE FAST FRIENDS OF LIVINGSTONE.
A few seconds after, as if in great pain, he half sighed, half said, “Oh dear, dear!” and then dozed off again.
It was about an hour later that Susi heard Majwara again outside the door, “Bwana wants you, Susi.” The Doctor wished him to boil some water, and for this purpose he went to the fire outside, and soon returned with the copper kettle full. Calling him close, he asked him to bring his medicine-chest, and to hold the candle near him, for the man noticed he could hardly see. With great difficulty the Doctor selected the calomel, which he told him to place by his side; then, directing him to pour a little water into a cup, and to put another empty one by it, he said, in a low, feeble voice, “All right; you can go out now.” These were the last words he was ever heard to speak.