"Sunday, 19th.--Sick all Sunday and unable to move. Several of the people were ill too, so that I could do nothing but roll from side to side in my miserable little tent, in which, with all the shade we could give it, the thermometer stood upward of 90°."
But though little able to preach, Livingstone made the most of an apparatus which in some degree compensated his lack of speech--a magic-lantern which his friend, a former fellow-traveler, Mr. Murray, had given him. The pictures of Abraham offering up Isaac, and other Bible scenes, enabled him to convey important truths in a way that attracted the people. It was, he says, the only service he was ever asked to repeat. The only uncomfortable feeling it raised was on the part of those who stood on the side where the slides were drawn out. They were terrified lest the figures, as they passed along, should take possession of them, entering like spirits into their bodies!
The loneliness of feeling engendered by the absence of all human sympathy was trying. "Amidst all the beauty and loveliness with which I am surrounded, there is still a feeling of want in the soul,--as if something more were needed to bathe the soul in bliss than the sight of the perfection in working and goodness in planning of the great Father of our spirits. I need to be purified--fitted for the eternal, to which my soul stretches away, in ever returning longings. I need to be made more like my blessed Saviour, to serve my God with all my powers. Look upon me, Spirit of the living God, and supply all Thou seest lacking."
It was Livingstone's great joy to begin this long journey with a blessed act of humanity, boldly summoning a trader to release a body of captives, so that no fewer than eighteen souls were restored to freedom. As he proceeded he obtained but too plain evidence of the extent to which the slave traffic prevailed, uniformly finding that wherever slavers had been, the natives were more difficult to deal with and more exorbitant in their demands. Slaves in chains were sometimes met with--a sight which some of his men had never beheld before.
Livingstone's successful management of the natives constituted the crowning wonder of this journey. Usually the hearts of the chiefs were wonderfully turned to him, so that they not only allowed him to pass on, but supplied him with provisions. But there were some memorable occasions on which he and his company appeared to be doomed. When he passed through the Chiboque country, the provisions were absolutely spent; there was no resource but to kill a riding-ox, a part of which, according to custom, was sent to the chief. Next day was Sunday. After service the chief sent an impudent message demanding much more valuable presents. His people collected round Livingstone, brandishing their weapons, and one young man all but brought down his sword on his head. It seemed impossible to avoid a fight; yet Livingstone's management prevailed--the threatened storm passed away.
Some days after, in passing through a forest in the dominions of another chief, he and his people were in momentary expectation of an attack. They went to the chiefs village and spoke to the man himself; and here, on a Sunday, while ill of fever, Livingstone was able to effect a temporary settlement. The chief sent them some food; then yams, a goat, fowl, and meat. Livingstone gave him a shawl, and two bunches of beads, and he seemed pleased. During these exciting scenes he felt no fever; but when they were over the constant wettings made him experience a sore sense of sinking, and this Sunday was a day "of perfect uselessness." Monday came, and while Livingstone was as low as possible, the inexorable chief renewed his demands. "It was," he says, "a day of torture."
"After talking nearly the whole day we gave the old chief an ox, but he would not take it, but another. I was grieved exceedingly to find that our people had become quite disheartened, and all resolved to return home. All I can say has no effect. I can only look up to God to influence their minds, that the enterprise fail not, now that we have reached the very threshold of the Portuguese settlements. I am greatly distressed at this change, for what else can be done for this miserable land I do not see. It is shut. O Almighty God, help, help! and leave not this wretched people to the slave-dealer and Satan. The people have done well hitherto, I see God's good influence in it. Hope He has left only for a little season. No land needs the gospel more than this miserable portion. I hope I am not to be left to fail in introducing it."
On Wednesday morning, however, final arrangements were made, and the party passed on in peace. Ten days later, again on a Sunday, they were once more pestered by a great man demanding dues. Livingstone replied by simply defying him. He might kill him, but God would judge. And on the Monday they left peaceably, thankful for their deliverance, some of the men remarking, in view of it, that they were "children of Jesus," and Livingstone thanking God devoutly for his great mercy. Next day they were again stopped at the river Quango. The poor Makololo had parted in vain with their copper ornaments, and Livingstone with his razors, shirts, etc.; yet he had made up his mind (as he wrote to the Geographical Society afterward) to part with his blanket and coat to get a passage, when a young Portuguese sergeant, Cypriano de Abrao, made his appearance, and the party were allowed to pass.
There were many proofs that, though a poor set of fellows, Livingstone's own followers were animated with extraordinary regard for him. No wonder! They had seen how sincere he was in saying that he would die rather than give any of them up to captivity. And all his intercourse with them had been marked by similar proofs of his generosity and kindness. When the ox flung him into the river, about twenty of them made a simultaneous rush for his rescue, and their joy at his safety was very great.
Amid all that was discouraging in the present aspect of things, Livingstone could always look forward and rejoice in the good time coming: