Their appearance created great alarm as they approached the village, the king and his people supposing them to be Rugruga, the followers of Mirambo, but, discovering their mistake, they welcomed them cordially.
On the 10th of November, just two hundred and thirty-six days after leaving Bagomoyo, and fifty-one since they set out from Unyanyembe, surmounting a hill, Tanganyika is seen before them. Six hours’ march will bring them to its shores.
On they push, the air fresh and cool—a glorious morning. The “stars and stripes” float out in the breeze; repeated volleys are fired. The village is reached. The faithful Chumah and Susi, Dr Livingstone’s old followers, rush out to see who the stranger is, and in a short time Stanley is rewarded for all the dangers and hardships he has gone through by meeting the long-looked-for traveller face to face.
His own book must give the description of the meeting; it is not the least graphic portion of his deeply interesting work.
At the time, when reduced almost to death’s door by sickness and disappointment, the assistance thus brought to Dr Livingstone was of inestimable worth. What might have been his fate had he not been relieved, it is impossible to say. The society of his new friend, the letters from home, the well-cooked meal which the doctor was able to enjoy, and the champagne quaffed out of silver goblets, and brought carefully those hundreds of miles for that especial object, had a wonderfully exhilarating influence.
Some days were spent at Ujiji, during which the doctor continued to regain health and strength. Future plans were discussed, and his previous adventures described. The longer the intercourse Stanley enjoyed with Livingstone, the more he rose in his estimation.
He formed, indeed, a high estimate of his character, though, he fully believed, a just one.
“Dr Livingstone,” he says, “is about sixty years old. His hair has a brownish colour, but here and there streaked with grey lines over the temples. His beard and moustache are very grey. His eyes, which are hazel, are remarkably bright: he has a sight keen as a hawk’s. His frame is a little over the ordinary height; when walking, he has a firm but heavy tread, like that of an over-worked or fatigued man. I never observed any spleen or misanthropy about him. He has a fund of quiet humour, which he exhibits at all times when he is among friends. During the four months I was with him I noticed him every evening making most careful notes. His maps evince great care and industry. He is sensitive on the point of being doubted or criticised. His gentleness never forsakes him, his hopefulness never deserts him; no harassing anxiety or distraction of mind, though separated from home and kindred, can make him complain. He thinks all will come out right at last, he has such faith in the goodness of Providence. Another thing which especially attracted my attention was his wonderfully retentive memory. His religion is not of the theoretical kind, but it is constant, earnest, sincere, practical; it is neither demonstrative nor loud, but manifests itself in a quiet, practical way, and is always at work. In him religion exhibits its loveliest features; it governs his conduct not only towards his servants, but towards the natives. I observed that universal respect was paid to him; even the Mahommedans never passed his house without calling to pay their compliments, and to say: ‘The blessing of God rest on you!’ Every Sunday morning he gathers his little flock around him, and reads prayers and a chapter from the Bible in a natural, unaffected, and sincere tone, and afterwards delivers a short address in the Kisawahili language, about the subject read to them, which is listened to with evident interest and attention.
“His consistent energy is native to him and his race. He is a very fine example of the perseverance, doggedness, and tenacity which characterises the Anglo-Saxon spirit. His ability to withstand the climate is due not only to the happy constitution with which he was born, but to the strictly temperate life he has ever led.
“It is a principle with him to do well what he undertakes to do, and, in the consciousness that he is doing it, despite the yearning for his home, which is sometimes overpowering, he finds to a certain extent contentment, if not happiness.