Chapter XVIII

ARRIVAL AT KABINDA.--WEST AFRICAN MERCHANTS.--DEATH AMONG THE WANGWANA.--ILLNESS AMONG THE PEOPLE OF THE EXPEDITION.--STANLEY'S ANXIETY FOR HIS FOLLOWERS.--THEIR FAILING HEALTH.--ENCOURAGING THEM WITH WORDS AND KIND TREATMENT.--THE BANE OF IDLENESS.--LEAVING KABINDA.--SAN PAULO DE LOANDA.--KINDNESS OF THE PORTUGUESE OFFICIALS.--H. B. MAJESTY'S SHIP _INDUSTRY_.--CARRIED TO THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.--THE WANGWANA SEE A "FIRE-CARRIAGE."--TO NATAL AND ZANZIBAR.--RECEPTION.--DISBANDING THE EXPEDITION.--AFFECTING SCENES.--STANLEY'S TRIBUTE TO HIS FOLLOWERS.

"After steaming northward from the mouth of the Congo for a few
hours, we entered the fine bay of Kabinda, on the southern shores
of which the native town of that name in the country of Ngoyo is
situate. On the southern point of the bay stands a third factory of
the enterprising firm of Messrs. Hatton & Cookson, under the
immediate charge of their principal agent, Mr. John Phillips. A
glance at the annexed photograph will sufficiently show the
prosperous appearance of the establishment, and the comfortable
houses that have been constructed. The expedition received a
cordial welcome from Messrs. Phillips, Wills, Price, and Jones, and
I was housed in a cottage surrounded by gardens and overlooking
the glorious sea, while the people were located in a large shed
fronting the bay.

(_From a Photograph by Mr. Phillips._)]

"The next morning when I proceeded to greet the people, I
discovered that one of the Wangwana had died at sunrise; and when I
examined the condition of the other sufferers it became apparent
that there was to be yet no rest for me, and that, to save life, I
should have to be assiduous and watchful. But for this, I should
have surrendered myself to the joys of life, without a thought for
myself or for others, and no doubt I should have suffered in the
same degree as the Wangwana from the effects of the sudden
relaxation from care, trouble, or necessity for further effort.
There were also other claims on my energies: I had to write my
despatches to the journals, and to re-establish those bonds of
friendship and sympathetic communion that had been severed by the
lapse of dark years and long months of silence. My poor people,
however, had no such incentives to rouse themselves from the stupor
of indifference, as fatal to them as the cold to a benighted man in
a snowy wilderness. Housed together in a comfortable, barrack-like
building, with every convenience provided for them, and supplied
with food, raiment, fuel, water, and an excess of luxuries, nothing
remained for them to do; and the consequence was, that the abrupt
dead-stop to all action and movement overwhelmed them, and plunged
them into a state of torpid brooding from which it was difficult to
arouse them.

"The words of the poet--

"'What's won is done: Joy's soul lies in the doing--'

"or, as Longfellow has it--

"'The reward is in the doing,
And the rapture of pursuing
Is the prize'--

"recurred to me, as explaining why it was that the people
abandoned themselves to the dangerous melancholy created by
inactivity. I was charmed by it myself; the senses were fast
relapsing into a drowsy state, that appeared to be akin to the
drowsiness of delirium. No novel or romance interested me, though
Mr. Phillips's cottage possessed a complete library of fiction and
light reading. Dickens seemed rubbish, and the finest poems flat.
Frequently, even at meals, I found myself subsiding into sleep,
though I struggled against it heroically; wine had no charm for
me; conversation fatigued me. Yet the love of society, and what
was due to my friendly hosts, acted as a wholesome restraint and a
healthy stimulant; but what had the poor, untutored black
strangers, whose homes were on the east side of the continent, to
rouse them and to stimulate them into life?

(_From a Photograph by Mr. Phillips, of Kabinda._)]

"'Do you wish to see Zanzibar, boys?' I asked.

"'Ah, it is far. Nay, speak not, master. We shall never see it,'
they replied.

"'But you will die if you go on in this way. Wake up--shake
yourselves--show yourselves to be men.'

"'Can a man contend with God? Who fears death? Let us die
undisturbed, and be at rest forever,' they answered.

"Brave, faithful, loyal souls! They were, poor fellows,
surrendering themselves to the benumbing influences of a
listlessness and fatal indifference to life! Four of them died in
consequence of this strange malady at Loanda, three more on board
H.M.S. _Industry_, and one woman breathed her last the day after
we arrived at Zanzibar. But in their sad death they had one
consolation, in the words which they kept constantly repeating to
themselves:

"'We have brought our master to the great sea, and he has seen his
white brothers, La il Allah, il Allah! There is no God but God!'
they said--and died.

"It is not without an overwhelming sense of grief, a choking in
the throat, and swimming eyes, that I write of those days, for my
memory is still busy with the worth and virtues of the dead. In a
thousand fields of incident, adventure, and bitter trials they had
proved their stanch heroism and their fortitude; they had lived
and endured nobly. I remember the enthusiasm with which they
responded to my appeals; I remember their bold bearing during the
darkest days; I remember the Spartan pluck, the indomitable
courage with which they suffered in the days of our adversity.
Their voices again loyally answer me, and again I hear them
address each other upon the necessity of standing by the 'master.'
Their boat-song, which contained sentiments similar to the
following--

"'The pale-faced stranger, lonely here,
In cities afar, where his name is dear,
Your Arab truth and strength shall show;
He trusts in us, row, Arabs, row--

"despite all the sounds which now surround me, still charms my
listening ear.

"The expedition, after a stay of eight days at Kabinda, was kindly
taken on board the Portuguese gunboat _Taméga_, Commander José
Marquez, to San Paulo de Loanda. The Portuguese officers
distinguished themselves by a superb banquet, and an exhibition of
extraordinary courtesy towards myself, and great sympathy towards
my followers. Two gentlemen, Major Serpa Pinto and Senhor José
Avelino Fernandez, who were on board, extended their hospitalities
so far as to persuade me to accompany them to their residence in
the capital of Angola. To house the one hundred and fourteen
Wangwana who accompanied me was a great task on the liberality of
these gentlemen, but the Portuguese Governor-General of Angola
nobly released them and myself from all obligations, and all the
expenses incurred by us from the 21st of August to the 27th of
September were borne by the colony. One of the first acts of
Governor-General Albuquerque was to despatch his aide-de-camp with
offers of assistance, money, and a gunboat to convey me to Lisbon,
which received, as it deserved, my warmest thanks. The Portuguese
commodore gave a banquet to the Portuguese explorers. Major Serpa
Pinto, Commander Brito Capello, and Lieutenant Roberto Ivens, who
were about setting out for the exploration of the Kunené or Noursé
River, as far as Bihé, thence to Lake Nyassa and Mozambique, and
upon the festive occasion they honored me. The Board of Works at
Loanda also banqueted us royally; as also did Mr. Michael Tobin,
the banker, while Mr. Hubert Newton was unceasing in his
hospitalities.

"The government hospital at Luanda was open to the sick strangers;
Doctor Lopez and his assistants daily visited the sick-ward of
our residence, and a trained nurse was detailed to attend the
suffering. Pure Samaritanism animated the enthusiastic Senhor
Capello, and free, unselfish charity inspired my friend Avelino
Fernandez to watch and tend the ailing, desponding, and exhausted
travellers.

"Nor must the English officers of the Royal Navy be forgotten for
their chivalrous kindness. When I was wondering whether I should
be compelled to lead the Wangwana across the continent to their
homes, they solved my doubts and anxieties by offering the
expedition a passage to Cape Town in H.M.S. _Industry_. The offer
of the Portuguese governor-general to convey me in a gunboat to
Lisbon, and the regular arrivals of the Portuguese mail steamers,
were very tempting, but the condition of my followers was such
that I found it impossible to leave them.

"The cordial civilities that were accorded to us at Loanda were
succeeded by equally courteous treatment on board the _Industry_.
Her officers, Captain Dyer, Assistant-Surgeon William Brown, and
Paymaster Edwin Sandys, assisted me to the utmost of their ability
in alleviating the sufferings of the sick and reviving the vigor
of the desponding. But the accomplished surgeon found his patients
most difficult cases. The flame of life flickered and spluttered,
and to fan it into brightness required in most of the cases
patience and tact more than medicine. Yet there was a little
improvement in them, though they were still heavy-eyed.

"Upon arriving at Simon's Bay, Cape of Good Hope, on the 21st of
October, I was agreeably surprised by a most genial letter, signed
by Commodore Francis William Sullivan, who invited me to the
Admiralty House as his guest, and from whom during the entire
period of our stay at the Cape we met with the most hearty
courtesy and hospitality. He had also made preparations for
transporting the expedition to Zanzibar, when a telegram from the
Lords of the British Admiralty was received, authorizing him to
provide for the transmission of my followers to their homes, an
act of gracious kindness for which I have recorded elsewhere my
most sincere thanks.

"Had we been able to accept all the invitations that were showered
upon us by the kind-hearted colonists of South Africa, from Cape
Town to Natal, it is possible we might still be enjoying our
holiday at that remote end of Africa, but her Majesty's ship could
not be delayed for our pleasure and gratification. But during the
time she was refitting, the authorities of Cape Town and
Stellenbosch, through the influence of Lady Frere, Commodore
Sullivan, and Captain Mills, Colonial Secretary, exerted
themselves so zealously to gratify and honor us, that I attribute
a large share of the recovery in health of my followers to the
cordial and unmistakable heartiness of the hospitalities they
there enjoyed. Here the Wangwana saw for the first time the
'fire-carriage,' and, accompanied by Commodore Sullivan, the Dean
of Cape Town, and several of the leading residents of the Cape,
the expedition was whirled to Stellenbosch at the rate of thirty
miles an hour, which, of all the wonders they had viewed, seemed
to them the most signal example of the wonderful enterprise and
superior intelligence of the European.

"I ought not to omit describing a little episode that occurred
soon after our arrival in Simon's Bay. For the first three days
after landing at Simon's Town, blustering gales prevented me from
returning to the ship. The people thereupon became anxious, and
wondered whether this distant port was to terminate my connection
with them. On returning to the ship, therefore, I found them even
more melancholy than when I had left them. I asked the reason.

"'You will return to Ulyah' (Europe), 'of course, now.'

"'Why?'

"'Oh, do we not see that you have met your friends, and all these
days we have felt that you will shortly leave us?'

"'Who told you so?' I asked, smiling at the bitterness visible in
their faces.

"'Our hearts; and they are very heavy.'

"'Ah! and would it please you if I accompanied you to Zanzibar?'

"'Why should you ask, master? Are you not our father?'

"'Well, it takes a long time to teach you to rely upon the promise
of your father. I have told you, over and over again, that nothing
shall cause me to break my promise to you that I would take you
home. You have been true to me, and I shall be true to you. If we
can get no ship to take us, I will walk the entire distance with
you until I can show you to your friends at Zanzibar.'

"'Now we are grateful, master.'

"I observed no sad faces after this day, and Captain Dyer and his
officers noticed how they visibly improved and brightened up from
this time.

"On the 6th of November H.M.S. _Industry_ was equipped and ready
for her voyage to Zanzibar. On the twelfth of the month she
dropped anchor in the harbor of Natal to coal, and fourteen days
after her departure from Natal the palmy island of Zanzibar rose
into sight, and in the afternoon we were bearing straight for
port.

"As I looked on the Wangwana, and saw the pleasure which now
filled every soul, I felt myself amply rewarded for sacrificing
several months to see them home. The sick had, all but one,
recovered, and they had improved so much in appearance that few,
ignorant of what they had been, could have supposed that these
were the living skeletons that had reeled from sheer weakness
through Boma.

"The only patient who had baffled our endeavors to restore her to
health was the woman Muscati, unfortunate Safeni's wife. Singular
to relate, she lived to be embraced by her father, and the next
morning died in his arms, surrounded by her relatives and friends.
But all the others were blessed with redundant health--robust,
bright, and happy.

"And now the well-known bays and inlets, and spicy shores and
red-tinted bluffs of Mbwenni enraptured them. Again they saw what
they had often despaired of seeing: the rising ridge of Wilezu, at
the foot of which they knew were their homes and their tiny
gardens; the well-known features of Shangani and Melindi; the tall
square mass of the sultan's palace. Each outline, each house, from
the Sandy Point to their own Ngambu, each well-remembered bold
swell of land, with its glories of palm and mango-tree, was to
them replete with associations of bygone times.

"The captain did not detain them on board. The boats were all
lowered at once, and they crowded the gangway and ladder. I
watched the first boat-load.

"To those on the beach it was a surprise to see so many
white-shirted, turbaned men making for shore from an English
man-of-war. Were they slaves--or what? No; slaves they could not
be, for they were too well dressed. Yet what could they be?

"The boat-keel kissed the beach, and the impatient fellows leaped
out and upward, and danced in ecstasy on the sands of their
island; they then kneeled down, bowed their faces to the dear
soil, and cried out, with emotion, their thanks to Allah! To the
full they now taste the sweetness of the return home. The glad
tidings ring out along the beach, 'It is Bwana Stanley's
expedition that has returned.'

"Then came bounding towards them their friends, acquaintances,
countrymen, asking ever so many questions, all burning to know all
about it. Where had they been? How came they to be on board the
man-of-war? What had they seen? Who was dead? Where is So-and-so?
You have gone beyond Nyangwé to the other sea? Mashallah!

"The boats come and go.

"More of the returned braves land, jump and frisk about, shake
hands, embrace firmly and closely; they literally _leap_ into each
other's arms, and there are many wet eyes there, for some terrible
tales are told of death, disaster, and woe by the most voluble of
the narrators, who seem to think it incumbent on them to tell all
the news at once. The minor details, which are a thousand and a
thousand, shall be told to-morrow and the next day, and the next,
and for days and years to come.

"The ship was soon emptied of her strange passengers. Captain
Sullivan, of the _London_, came on board, and congratulated me on
my safe arrival, and then I went on shore to my friend Mr.
Augustus Sparhawk's house. We will pass over whatever may have
transpired among the reunited friends, relatives, acquaintances,
etc., but I will give substantially what Mabruki, a stout,
bright-eyed lad, the Nestor of the youths during the expedition,
related of his experiences the next day.

"'Well, Mabruki, tell me, did you see your mother?' Mabruki,
knowing I have a lively curiosity to know all about the meeting,
because he had been sometimes inclined to despair of seeing poor
old 'mamma' again, relaxes the severe tightness of his face, and
out of his eyes there gushes such a flood of light as shows him to
be brimful of happiness, and he hastens to answer, with a slight
bob of the head,

"'Yes, master.'

"'Is she quite well? How does she look? What did she say when she
saw her son such a great strong lad? Come, tell me all about it.'

"'I will tell you--but ah! she is old now. She did not know me at
first, because I burst open the door of our house, and I was one
of the foremost to land, and I ran all the way from the boat to
the house. She was sitting talking with a friend. When the door
opened she cried out, "Who?"

"'"Mi-mi, ma-ma. It is I, mother. It is I--Mabruki, mother. It is
I, returned from the continent."

"'"What! Mabruki, my son!"

"'"Verily it is I, mother."

"'She could scarcely believe I had returned, for she had heard no
news. But soon all the women round about gathered together near
the door, while the house was full to hear the news; and they were
all crying and laughing and talking so fast, which they kept up
far into the night. She is very proud of me, master. When the
dinner was ready over twenty sat down to share with us. "Oh!" they
all said, "you are a man indeed, now that you have been farther
than any Arab has ever been."'

"Four days of grace I permitted myself to procure the thousands of
rupees required to pay off the people for their services. Messages
had also been sent to the relatives of the dead, requesting them
to appear at Mr. Sparhawk's, prepared to make their claims good by
the mouths of three witnesses.

"On the fifth morning the people--men, women, and children--of the
Anglo-American Expedition, attended by hundreds of friends, who
crowded the street and the capacious rooms of the Bertram Agency,
began to receive their well-earned dues.

"The women, thirteen in number, who had borne the fatigues of the
long, long journey, who had transformed the stern camp in the
depths of the wilds into something resembling a village in their
own island, who had encouraged their husbands to continue in their
fidelity despite all adversity, were all rewarded.

"The children of the chiefs who had accompanied us from Zanzibar
to the Atlantic, and who, by their childish, careless prattle, had
often soothed me in mid-Africa, and had often caused me to forget
my responsibilities for the time, were not forgotten. Neither
were the tiny infants--ushered into the world amid the dismal and
tragic scenes of the cataract lands, and who, with their eyes wide
open with wonder, now crowed and crooned at the gathering of happy
men and elated women about them--omitted in this final account and
reckoning.

"The second pay-day was devoted to hearing the claims for wages
due to the faithful dead. Poor faithful souls! With an ardor and a
fidelity unexpected, and an immeasurable confidence, they had
followed me to the very death. True, negro nature had often
asserted itself, but it was after all but human nature. They had
never boasted that they were heroes, but they exhibited truly
heroic stuff while coping with the varied terrors of the hitherto
untrodden and apparently endless wilds of broad Africa.

1. Wife of Murabo.
2. Wife of Robert.
3. Wife of Mana Koko.
4. Half-caste of Ganbaragara, whom Wadi Rehani married.
5. Zaidi's wife.
6. Wife of Wadi Baraka.
7. Wife of Manwa Sera.
8. Wife of Chowpereh.
9. Wife of Muini Pembé.
10. Wife of Muscati.
11. Wife of Chiwonda.
12. Wife of Mufta.

THE WOMEN OF THE EXPEDITION.]

"The female relatives filed in. With each name of the dead, old
griefs were remembered. The poignant sorrow I felt--as the fallen
were named after each successive conflict in those dark days never
to be forgotten by me--was revived. Sad and subdued were the faces
of those I saw; as sad and subdued as my own feelings. With such
sympathies between us we soon arrived at a satisfactory
understanding. Each woman was paid without much explanation
required--one witness was sufficient. There were men, however, who
were put to great shifts. They appeared to have no identity. None
of my own people would vouch for the relationship; no respectable
man knew them. Several claimed money upon the ground that they
were acquaintances; that they had been slaves under one master,
and had become freemen together on their master's death. Parents
and brothers were not difficult to identify. The settlement of the
claims lasted five days, and then--the Anglo-American Expedition
was no more.

"On the 13th of December the British India Steam Navigation
Company's steamer _Pachumba_ sailed from Zanzibar for Aden, on
board which Mr. William Mackinnon had ordered a state-room for me.
My followers through Africa had all left their homes early, that
they might be certain to arrive in time to witness my departure.
They were there now, every one of them arrayed in the picturesque
dress of their countrymen. The fulness of the snowy dishdasheh and
the amplitude of the turban gave a certain dignity to their forms,
and each sported a light cane. Upon inquiring I ascertained that
several had already purchased handsome little properties--houses
and gardens--with their wages, proving that the long journey had
brought, with its pains and rough experience, a good deal of
thrift and wisdom.

"When I was about to step into the boat, the brave, faithful
fellows rushed before me and shot the boat into the sea, and then
lifted me up on their heads and carried me through the surf into
the boat.

"We shook hands twenty times twenty, I think, and then at last the
boat started.

"I saw them consult together, and presently saw them run down the
beach and seize a great twenty-ton lighter, which they soon manned
and rowed after me. They followed me thus to the steamer, and a
deputation of them came on board, headed by the famous Uledi, the
coxswain; Kachéché, the chief detective; Robert, my indispensable
factotum; Zaidi, the chief, and Wadi Rehani, the storekeeper, to
inform me that they still considered me as their master, and that
they would not leave Zanzibar until they received a letter from me
announcing my safe arrival in my own country. I had, they said,
taken them round all Africa to bring them back to their homes, and
they must know that I had reached my own land before they would go
to seek new adventures on the continent, and--simple, generous
souls!--that if I wanted their help to reach my country they would
help me!

"They were sweet and sad moments, those of parting. What a long,
long and true friendship was here sundered! Through what strange
vicissitudes of life had they not followed me! What wild and
varied scenes had we not seen together! What a noble fidelity
these untutored souls had exhibited! The chiefs were those who had
followed me to Ujiji in 1871; they had been witnesses of the joy
of Livingstone at the sight of me; they were the men to whom I
intrusted the safeguard of Livingstone on his last and fatal
journey, who had mourned by his corpse at Muilala, and borne the
illustrious dead to the Indian Ocean.

"And in a flood of sudden recollection, all the stormy period here
ended rushed in upon my mind; the whole panorama of danger and
tempest through which these gallant fellows had so stanchly stood
by me--these gallant fellows now parting from me. Rapidly, as in
some apocalyptic vision, every scene of strife with man and nature
through which these poor men and women had borne me company, and
solaced me by the simple sympathy of common suffering, came
hurrying across my memory; for each face before me was associated
with some adventure or some peril, reminded me of some triumph or
of some loss. What a wild, weird retrospect it was, that mind's
flash over the troubled past! So like a troublous dream!

"And for years and years to come, in many homes in Zanzibar, will
be told the great story of our journey, and the actors in it will
be heroes among their kith and kin. For me, too, they are heroes,
these poor, ignorant children of Africa; for, from the first
deadly struggle in savage Ituru to the last staggering rush into
Embomma, they had rallied to my voice like veterans, and in the
hour of need they had never failed me. And thus, aided by their
willing hands and by their loyal hearts, the expedition had been
successful, and the three great problems of the Dark Continent's
geography had been fairly solved."

Fred paused and closed the book. The young gentleman's voice was husky; in fact it had been so at several points in his reading, and there were tears in his eyes as a natural accompaniment of the huskiness. He had been compelled to stop two or three times while reading Mr. Stanley's letter appealing "to any gentleman who speaks English at Embomma" to send relief to his starving companions, and also when he read the account of the arrival of the caravan with provisions for the suffering, dying people. Fred's auditors were equally affected by this touching narrative, and not one of them ventured to utter a word for fear he should break down before completing a single sentence. For two or three minutes no one moved or spoke. Finally Doctor Bronson made a remark that "broke the ice," and the formalities of the occasion came to an end.

"That story of the suffering and relief in the last days of the journey through the Dark Continent always brings tears to my eyes," said the Doctor, as the party separated. "In Paris, in 1878, I was at a dinner party at which Stanley was the principal guest. He was then fresh from Africa, and when pressed to tell us something of his experience there he gave the story which you have just heard. When he repeated the contents of his letter, which he did from memory, and told of the prompt and generous response to his appeal, every cheek at that table was wet, and every one of the twenty or more men that composed the party pronounced it the most affecting story he had ever heard."

And with this little incident the members of the _Eider_ Geographical Society adjourned to the open air.