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."
The caravan marched wearily back, meeting with nothing eventful till it entered the Ugogo territory, where, owing to a misunderstanding on the part of the natives, who got it into their heads that Stanley meant to pass them without paying the accustomed tribute, a fight seemed inevitable. Had it occurred, it is doubtful whether he or Livingstone's papers would ever have been heard of again. But Stanley had seemed from his infancy a child of destiny, and escaped here, as everywhere, by the skin of his teeth. It was a constant succession of toilsome, painful marches, even when the natives were friendly, while there was often a scarcity of provisions. To secure these he, at last, when on the borders of the wilderness of Marenga Mkali, dispatched three men to Zanzibar, with a request to the consul there to send them back with provisions. These messengers were told not to halt for anything—rain, rivers or inundations—but push right on. "Then," says Stanley, "with a loud, vigorous 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 assistant, Farquhar, had died."
In twenty-nine days they had marched three hundred and thirty-eight miles. Twelve miles a day, including stoppages and delays, was in such a country rapid marching—nay, almost unparalleled; but Stanley had turned his face homeward and could stand no African dilly-dallying on the way. We cannot go into the details of this homeward march,—to-day startled by a thousand warriors, streaming along the war-path,—to-morrow on the brink of a collision with the natives, the end of which no one could foresee, but the caravan pressed on until they came to the neighborhood of the terrible Makata swamps, that Stanley had occasion so well to remember. Heavy rains had set in, swelling all the streams and inundating the plains, so that the marching was floundering through interminable stretches of water. Now swimming turbulent rivers—now camping in the midst of pestiferous swamps, and all the time drenched by the rain, that fell in torrents—they struggled on until, at last, they came to the dreaded Makata swamp itself. The sight that met them here was appalling, but there was no retreat, and for long hours they toiled slowly through, sometimes up to their necks in water, sometimes swimming, and where it was shallow sinking in deep mire. They thus fought their way on, and at last, weary, worn and half-starved, came to the Makata River. But no sooner were they over this, than a lake six miles wide stretched before them. The natives warned him against attempting to cross it; but nothing could stop him now, and they all plunged in.
He says: "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, until we were halted on the edge of the Little Makata, which raced along at the rate of eight knots an hour." Fierce and rapid as it was, there was no course left but to swim it, and swim it they did. For a whole week they had been wading and swimming and floundering through water, till it seemed impossible that any one could survive such exposure, but, at last they came to dry ground and to the famous walled city of the Sultana Limbamwanni, which we described in his upward journey. But the heavy rains that had inundated the whole country, had so swollen the river, near the banks on which it was situated, that the water had carried away the entire front wall of the town, and some fifty houses with it. The sultana had fled and her stronghold had disappeared. All along the route was seen the devastating power of the flood as it swept over the country, carrying away a hundred villages in its course. The fields were covered with débris of sand and mud, and what was a paradise when he went in was now a desert. With the subsidence of the water the atmosphere became impregnated with miasma, and the whole land seemed filled with snakes, scorpions, iguanas and ants, while clouds of mosquitoes darkened the air till life became almost intolerable. At last, on May 2d, after forty-seven days of incessant marching, and almost continual suffering, they reached Rosako, where, a few minutes after, the three men he had sent forward arrived, bringing with them a few boxes of jam, two of Boston crackers, and some bottles of champagne; and most welcome they were after the terrible journey through the Makata Valley. The last great obstacle (a ferry of four miles across a watery plain) being surmounted, the caravan approached Bagomayo, and in their jubilant excitement announced its arrival by the firing of guns and blowing of horns, and with shouting hurrahs till they were hoarse. The sun was just sinking behind the distant forests, from which they had emerged and which were filled with such terrible associations, when they entered the town, and sniffed with delight the fresh sea-breeze that came softly stealing inland. The putrid air of the swamps, the poisonous miasma that enveloped the entire country, were left far behind with want and famine, and no wonder the heart was elated and their bounding joy found expression in exultant shouts.
Happy in having once more reached civilization; happy in the thought of his triumphant success; and still more happy in the joy that he believed the good news he brought would give to others, Stanley's heart was overflowing with kindness to all, and the world seemed bright to him. But, in a moment it was all dashed on opening the papers at Zanzibar. Scarcely one had a kind word for him; on the contrary, he found nothing but suspicion, jealousy and detraction, and even charges of fabricating the whole story of having found Livingstone. He was stunned at this undeserved cruel reception of his declaration, and the faith in the goodness of human nature, with which Livingstone had inspired him, seemed about to give way before this evidence of its meanness and littleness. He could not comprehend how his simple, truthful, unostentatious story could awaken such unkind feelings, such baseless slanders. It was a cruel blow to receive, after all that he had endured and suffered. No wonder he wrote bitter words of the kid-glove geographers, who criticized him, and the press that jeered at him. But he has had his revenge, for he has triumphed over them all.
He immediately set to work to organize a caravan to send off to Livingstone the things he had promised, and then started for home.