The pursuit was kept up for four hours; and poor Lander, with only wet ammunition, and with no defensive weapons whatever, was exposed to the straggling fire, as well as the insulting mockery of his pursuers. The fugitives, however, outstripped their pursuers, and when they found the chase discontinued altogether, Lander stood up, _for the last time_, in the canoe; and, being seconded by his remaining associates, he waved his hat and gave a last cheer in sight of his adversaries. He then became sick and faint from loss of blood, and sank back exhausted in the arms of those who were nearest to him. Rallying shortly afterwards, the nature of his wound was communicated to him by Mr. Moore, a young surgeon from England, who had accompanied him up the river, viz., that the ball could not be extracted; it had worked its way into the left thigh, and Lander felt convinced that his career would soon be terminated. When the state of excitement to which his feelings had been wrought gave place to the languor which generally succeeds powerful excitement of any kind, the invalid's wound pained him exceedingly, and for several hours afterwards he endured, though with calmness, the most intense sufferings. From that time he could neither sit up nor turn on his couch; but while he was proceeding down the river in a manner so melancholy, and so very different from the mode in which he was ascending it only the day before, he could not help indulging in mournful reflections: he talked much of his wife, his child, his friends, his distant home, and his blighted expectations. It was a period of darkness, distress, and sorrow to him; but his natural cheerfulness soon regained its ascendency over his mind, and, freely forgiving all his enemies, he resigned himself into the hands of his Maker. At length, having succeeded in escaping down the stream, Lander reached Fernando Po on the 27th of January. After his arrival he was doing so well, that, on the very day previous to his death, which occurred on the 6th of February, 1834,[99] he took food with appetite, and no doubt was entertained of his recovery. But mortification of the wound suddenly set in, and all hope was abandoned. So rapid was his prostration, that he died soon after midnight; having given such directions respecting his affairs as the shortness of the last fatal warning permitted. While on his sick-bed, every needful and possible aid was afforded him. In the airiest room of Colonel Nicholl's residence, receiving the unremitting attention of that humane and gallant officer (the Governor of Fernando Po), with the best medical assistance, and the most soothing services, his pains were alleviated and his spirits were cheered. He was conscious of his approaching dissolution, talked with calmness to those around him, and anticipated the termination of his career with composure and with hope. His body was laid in the grave at the Clarence Cemetery amid the vivid regrets