The day of parting came—March 14, 1872. Stanley was very depressed, believing that the parting was for ever. Livingstone went with him a little way and then bade him a hearty farewell, and while Stanley made haste towards the coast the Doctor turned back to Tabora and was again alone in the immense wilds of Africa. But he had still his faithful servants Susi and Chuma with him.
The Death of Livingstone
At Zanzibar Stanley was to engage a troop of stout, reliable porters and send them to Tabora, where Livingstone was to await their arrival. He had entrusted his journals, letters, and maps to Stanley's care, and that was fortunate, for when Stanley first arrived in England his narrative was doubted, and he was coldly received. Subsequently a revulsion of feeling set in, and it was generally recognised that he had performed a brilliant feat.
In due time the new supply of porters turned up at Tabora, fifty-seven men. They were excellent and trustworthy, and in a letter to Stanley, Livingstone says that he did not know how to thank him sufficiently for this new service. At the end of August the indefatigable Doctor set off on his last journey. He made for Tanganyika, and on New Year's Day, 1873, he was near Lake Bangweolo. It rained harder than ever, pouring down as if the flood-gates of heaven were opened. The caravan struggled slowly on through the wet, sometimes marching for hours through sheets of water, where only the eddies of the current distinguished the river from the adjoining swamps and flooded lands. The natives were unfriendly, refused to supply provisions, and led the strangers astray. Livingstone had never had such a difficult journey.
His plan was to go round the south of Lake Bangweolo to the Luapula, which flows out of the lake and runs to the Lualaba. Then he meant to follow the water in its course to the north, and ascertain its direction and destination.
But whichever way the mysterious river made its way to the ocean, the journey was long, and Livingstone's days were numbered. He had long been ill, and his condition was aggravated by the hardships of the journey. His body was worn out, and undermined by constant fever and insufficient nourishment. Yet he did not abandon hope of success and conscientiously wrote down his observations, and no Sunday passed without a service with his people.
Month after month he dragged himself along, but his strength was no longer what it had been. On April 21 he wrote with trembling hand only the words, "Tried to ride, but was forced to lie down and they carried me back to vil. exhausted." A comfortable litter was made, and Susi and Chuma were always with him. Livingstone asked the chief of the village for a guide for the next day, and the chief answered, "Stay as long as you wish, and when you want guides to Kalunganjovu's you shall have them."
The day after he was carried for two hours through marshy, grassy flats. During the next four days he was unable to write a line in his diary, but was carried by short stages from village to village along the southern shore of Lake Bangweolo. On April 27 he wrote in his diary, "Knocked up quite, and remain—recover—sent to buy milch goats. We are on the banks of the Molilamo." With these words his diary, which he had kept for thirty years, concluded. Milch goats were not to be had, but the chief of the place sent a present of food.
Four days later the journey was resumed. The chief provided canoes for crossing the Molilamo, a stream which flows into the lake. The invalid was transferred from the litter to a canoe, and ferried over the swollen stream. On the farther bank Susi went on in advance to the village of Chitambo to get a hut ready. The other men followed slowly with the litter. Time after time the sick man begged his men to put the litter down on the ground and let him rest. A drowsiness seemed to come over him which alarmed his servants. At a bend of the path he begged them to stop again, for he could go no farther. But after an hour they went on to the village. Leaning on their bows, the natives flocked round the litter on which lay the man whose fame and reputation had reached them in previous years. A hut was made ready, and a bed of grass and sticks was set up against the wall, while his boxes were deposited along the other walls, and a large chest served as a table. A fire was lighted outside the entrance, and the boy Majwara kept watch.
Early on April 20 the chief Chitambo came to pay a visit, but Livingstone was too weak to talk to him. The day passed, and at night the men sat round their fires and went to sleep when all was quiet. About eleven o'clock Susi was told to go to his master. Loud shouts were heard in the distance, and Livingstone asked Susi if it was their men who were making the noise. As the men were quiet in their huts, Susi replied, "I can hear from the cries that the people are scaring away a buffalo from their durra fields." A few minutes later he asked, "Is this the Luapula?" "No," answered Susi, "we are in Chitambo's village." Then again, "How many days is it to the Luapula?" "I think it is three days, master," answered Susi. Shortly after he murmured, "O dear, dear!" and dozed off again.