The detentions experienced in 1867 were long and wearisome, and Livingstone disliked them because he was never well when doing nothing. His light reading must have been pretty well exhausted; even Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, which accompanied him in these wanderings, and which we have no doubt he read throughout, must have got wearisome sometimes. He occupied himself in writing letters, in the hope that somehow or sometime he might find an opportunity of despatching them. He took the rainfall carefully during the year, and lunars and other observations, when the sky permitted. He had intended to make his observations more perfect on this journey than on any previous one, but alas for his difficulties and disappointments! A letter to Sir Thomas Maclear and Mr. Mann, his assistant, gives a pitiful account of these: "I came this journey with a determination to observe very carefully all your hints as to occupations and observations, east and west, north and south, but I have been so worried by lazy, deceitful Sepoys, and thievish Johanna men, and indifferent instruments, that I fear the results are very poor." He goes on to say that some of his instruments were defective, and others went out of order, and that his time-taker, one of his people, had no conscience, and could not be trusted. The records of his observations, notwithstanding, indicate much care and pains. In April, he had been very unwell, taking fits of total insensibility, but as he had not said anything of this to his people at home, it was to be kept a secret.
His Journal for 1867 ends with a statement of the poverty of his food, and the weakness to which he was reduced. He had hardly anything to eat but the coarsest grain of the country, and no tea, coffee, or sugar. An Arab trader, Mohamad Bogharib, who arrived at Casembe's about the same time, presented him with a meal of vermicelli, oil, and honey, and had some coffee and sugar; Livingstone had had none since he left Nyassa.
The Journal for 1868 begins with a prayer that if he should die that year, he might be prepared for it. The year was spent in the same region, and was signalized by the discovery of Lake Bemba, or, as it may more properly be called, Lake Bangweolo, Early in the year he heard accounts of what interested him greatly--certain underground houses in Rua, ranging along a mountain side for twenty miles. In some cases the doorways were level with the country adjacent; in others, ladders were used to climb up to them; inside they were said to be very large, and not the work of men, but of God. He became eagerly desirous to visit these mysterious dwellings.
Circumstances turning out more favorable to his going to Lake Bangweolo, Dr. Livingstone put off his journey to Ujiji, on which his men had been counting, and much against the advice of Mohamad, his trader friend and companion, determined first to see the lake of which he had heard so much. The consequence was a rebellion among his men. With the exception of five, they refused to go with him. They had been considerably demoralized by contact with the Arab trader and his slave-gang. Dr. Livingstone took this rebellion with wonderful placidity, for in his own mind he could not greatly blame them. It was no wonder they were tired of the everlasting tramping, for he was sick of it himself. He reaped the fruit of his mildness by the men coming back to him, on his return from the lake, and offering their services. It cannot be said of him that he was not disposed to make any allowance for human weakness. When recording a fault, and how he dealt with it, he often adds, "consciousness of my own defects makes me lenient." "I also have my weaknesses."
The way to the lake was marked by fresh and lamentable tokens of the sufferings of slaves. "24th June.--Six men-slaves were singing as if they did not feel the weight and degradation of the slave-sticks. I asked the cause of their mirth, and was told that they rejoiced at the idea of 'coming back after death, and haunting and killing those who had sold them,' Some of the words I had to inquire about; for instance, the meaning of the words, 'to haunt and kill by spirit power,' then it was, 'Oh, you sent me off to Manga (sea-coast), but the yoke is off when I die, and back I shall come to haunt and to kill you.' Then all joined in the chorus, which was the name of each vendor. It told not of fun, but of the bitterness and tears of such as were oppressed; and on the side of the oppressors there was power. There be higher than they!"
His discovery of Lake Bangweolo is recorded as quietly as if it had been a mill-pond: "On the 18th July, I walked a little way out, and saw the shores of the lake for the first time, thankful that I had come safely hither." The lake had several inhabited islands, which Dr. Livingstone visited, to the great wonder of the natives, who crowded around him in multitudes, never having seen such a curiosity as a white man before. In the middle of the lake the canoe-men whom he had hired to carry him across refused to proceed further, under the influence of some fear, real or pretended, and he was obliged to submit. But the most interesting, though not the most pleasant, thing about the lake, was the ooze or sponge which occurred frequently on its banks. The spongy places were slightly depressed valleys, without trees or bushes, with grass a foot or fifteen inches high; they were usually from two to ten miles long, and from a quarter of a mile to a mile broad. In the course of thirty geographical miles, he crossed twenty-nine, and that, too, at the end of the fourth month of the dry season. It was necessary for him to strip the lower part of his person before fording them, and then the leeches pounced on him, and in a moment had secured such a grip, that even twisting them round the fingers failed to tear them off.
It was Dr. Livingstone's impression at this time that in discovering Lake Bangweolo, with the sponges that fed it, he had made another discovery--that these marshy places might be the real sources of the three great rivers, the Nile, the Congo, and the Zambesi. A link, however, was yet wanting to prove his theory. It had yet to be shown that the waters that flowed from Lake Bangweolo into Lake Moero, and thence northward by the river Lualaba, were connected with the Nile system. Dr. Livingstone was strongly inclined to believe that this connection existed; but toward the close of his life he had more doubts of it, although it was left to others to establish conclusively that the Lualaba was the Congo, and sent no branch to the Nile.
On leaving Lake Bangweolo, detention occurred again as it had occurred before. The country was very disturbed and very miserable, and Dr. Livingstone was in great straits and want. Yet with a grim humor he tells how, when lying in an open shed, with all his men around him, he dreamed of having apartments at Mivart's Hotel. It was after much delay that he found himself at last, under the escort of a slave-party, on the way to Ujiji. Mr. Waller has graphically described the situation. "At last he makes a start on the 11th of December, 1868, with the Arabs, who are bound eastward for Ujiji. It is a motley group, composed of Mohamad and his friends, a gang of Unyamwezi hangers-on, and strings of wretched slaves yoked together in their heavy slave-sticks. Some carry ivory, others copper, or food for the march, while hope and fear, misery and villainy, may be read off on the various faces that pass in line out of this country, like a serpent dragging its accursed folds away from the victim it has paralyzed with its fangs."
New Year's Day, 1869, found Livingstone laboring under a worse attack of illness than any he had ever had before. For ten weeks to come his situation was as painful as can be conceived. A continual cough, night and day, the most distressing weakness, inability to walk, yet the necessity of moving on, or rather of being moved on, in a kind of litter arranged by Mohamad Bogharib,--where, with his face poorly protected from the sun, he was jolted up and down and sideways, without medicine or food for an invalid,--made the situation sufficiently trying. His prayer was that he might hold out to Ujiji, where he expected to find medicines and stores, with the rest and shelter so necessary in his circumstances. So ill was he, that he lost count of the days of the week and the month. "I saw myself lying dead in the way to Ujiji, and all the letters I expected there--useless. When I think of my children, the lines ring through my head perpetually:
"'I shall look into your faces,
And listen to what you say;
And be often very near you
When you think I'm far away.'"