How I found Livingstone : $b Travels, adventures, and discoveres in Central Africa, including an account of four months' residence with Dr. LivingstoneStanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
History
How I found Livingstone : $b Travels, adventures, and discoveres in Central Africa, including an account of four months' residence with Dr. Livingstone
Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
Africa, Central -- Description and travel; Livingstone, David, 1813-1873
On the fourth day I despatched Shaw with two more soldiers, to see what
had become of Kingaru and the two Mabrukis. Towards night he returned
completely prostrated, with a violent attack of the mukunguru, or ague;
but bringing the missing soldiers, who were thus left to report for
themselves.
With most thankful hearts did we quit our camp, where so much anxiety
of mind and fretfulness had been suffered, not heeding a furious rain,
which, after drenching us all night, might have somewhat damped our
ardor for the march under other circumstances. The road for the first
mile led over reddish ground, and was drained by gentle slopes falling
east and west; but, leaving the cover of the friendly woods, on whose
eastern margin we had been delayed so long, we emerged into one of the
savannahs, whose soil during the rain is as soft as slush and tenacious
as thick mortar, where we were all threatened with the fate of the
famous Arkansas traveller, who had sunk so low in one of the many
quagmires in Arkansas county, that nothing but his tall "stove-pipe" hat
was left visible.
Shaw was sick, and the whole duty of driving the foundering caravan
devolved upon myself. The Wanyamwezi donkeys stuck in the mire as if
they were rooted to it. As fast as one was flogged from his stubborn
position, prone to the depths fell another, giving me a Sisyphean
labour, which was maddening trader pelting rain, assisted by such men
as Bombay and Uledi, who could not for a whole skin's sake stomach the
storm and mire. Two hours of such a task enabled me to drag my caravan
over a savannah one mile and a half broad; and barely had I finished
congratulating myself over my success before I was halted by a deep
ditch, which, filled with rain-water from the inundated savannahs, had
become a considerable stream, breast-deep, flowing swiftly into the
Makata. Donkeys had to be unloaded, led through a torrent, and loaded
again on the other bank--an operation which consumed a full hour.
Presently, after straggling through a wood clump, barring our progress
was another stream, swollen into a river. The bridge being swept away,
we were obliged to swim and float our baggage over, which delayed us
two hours more. Leaving this second river-bank, we splashed, waded,
occasionally half-swimming, and reeled through mire, water-dripping
grass and matama stalks, along the left bank of the Makata proper, until
farther progress was effectually prevented for that day by a deep bend
of the river, which we should be obliged to cross the next day.
Though but six miles were traversed during that miserable day, the march
occupied ten hours.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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