"Gorgon," and on the 1st of February, in a lovely morning, the little cloud of smoke rising close to land, and afterward the white hull of a small paddle steamer making straight for the two ships outside. "As the vessel approached," says Dr. Stewart, "I could make out with a glass a firmly built man of about the middle height, standing on the port paddle-box, and directing the ship's course. He was not exactly dressed as a naval officer, but he wore that gold-laced cap which has since become so well known both at home and in Africa. This was Dr. Livingstone, and I said to his wife, 'There he is at last.' She looked brighter at this announcement than I had seen her do any day for seven months before." Through the help of the men of the "Gorgon," the sections of the "Lady Nyassa" were speedily put on board the "Pioneer," and on the 10th February the vessel steamed off for the mouth of the Ruo, to meet the Bishop. But its progress through the river was miserable. Says Dr. Stewart: "For ten days we were chiefly occupied in sailing or hauling the ship through sand-banks. The steamer was drawing between five and six feet of water, and though there were long reaches in the river with depth sufficient for a ship of larger draught, yet every now and then we found ourselves in shoal water of about three feet. No sooner was the boat got off one bank by might and main, and steady hauling on capstan and anchor laid out ahead, almost never astern, and we got a few miles of fair steering, than again we heard that sound, abhorred by all of us--a slight bump of the bow, and rush of sand along the ship's side, and we were again fast for a few hours, or a day or two, as the case might be." The "Pioneer" was overladen, and the plan had to be changed. It was resolved to put the "Lady Nyassa" together at Shupanga, and tow her up to the Rapids. "The detention," says Dr. Stewart, "was very trying to Dr. Livingstone, as it meant not a few weeks, but the loss of a year, inasmuch as by the time the ship was ready to be launched the river would be nearly at its lowest, and there would be no resource but to wait for the next rainy season. Yet, in the face of discouragement, he maintained his cheerfulness, and, after sunset, still enjoyed many an hour of prolonged talk about current events at home, about his old College days in Glasgow, and about many of those who were unknown men then, but have since made their mark in life in the different paths they have taken. Amongst others his old friend Mr. Young, of Kelly, or Sir Paraffin, as he used subsequently to call him, came in for a large share of the conversation."