come, and if he comes within range of an American rifle, I shall see
what virtue lies in American lead.
August 23rd. - We have passed a very anxious day in the valley of
Kwihara. Our eyes were constantly directed towards unfortunate Tabora.
It has been said that three tembes only have stood the brunt of the
attack. Abid bin Suliman's house has been destroyed, and over two
hundred tusks of ivory that belonged to him have become the property of
the African Bonaparte. My tembe is in as efficient a state of defence as
its style and means of defence will allow. Rifle-pits surround the house
outside, and all native huts that obstructed the view have been torn
down, and all trees and shrubs which might serve as a shelter for any
one of the enemy have been cut. Provisions and water enough for six days
have been brought. I have ammunition enough to last two weeks. The walls
are three feet thick, and there are apartments within apartments, so
that a desperate body of men could fight until the last room had been
The Arabs, my neighbours, endeavour to seem brave, but it is evident
they are about despairing; I have heard it rumoured that the Arabs of
Kwihara, if Tabora is taken, will start en masse for the coast, and give
the country up to Mirambo. If such are their intentions, and they are
really carried into effect, I shall be in a pretty mess. However, if
they do leave me, Mirambo will not reap any benefit from my stores,
nor from Livingstone's either, for I shall burn the whole house, and
everything in it.
August 24th. - The American flag is still waving above my house, and the
Arabs are still in Unyanyembe.
About 10 A.M., a messenger came from Tabora, asking us if we were not
going to assist them against Mirambo. I felt very much like going out to
help them; but after debating long upon the pros and cons of it, - asking
myself, Was it prudent? Ought I to go? What will become of the people
if I were killed? Will they not desert me again? What was the fate of
Khamis bin Abdullah? - I sent word that I would not go; that they ought
to feel perfectly at home in their tembes against such a force as
Mirambo had, that I should be glad if they could induce him to come to
Kwihara, in which case I would try and pick him off.
They say that Mirambo, and his principal officer, carry umbrellas over
their heads, that he himself has long hair like a Mnyamwezi pagazi, and
a beard. If he comes, all the men carrying umbrellas will have bullets
rained on them in the hope that one lucky bullet may hit him. According
to popular ideas, I should make a silver bullet, but I have no silver
with me. I might make a gold one.
About, noon I went over to see Sheikh bin Nasib, leaving about 100 men
inside the house to guard it while I was absent. This old fellow is
quite a philosopher in his way. I should call him a professor of minor
philosophy. He is generally so sententious - fond of aphorisms, and a
very deliberate character. I was astonished to find him so despairing.
His aphorisms have deserted him, his philosophy has not been able to
stand against disaster. He listened to me, more like a moribund, than
one possessing all the means of defence and offence.
I loaded his two-pounder with ball, and grape, and small slugs of iron,
and advised him not to fire it until Mirambo's people were at his gates.
About 4 p.m. I heard that Mirambo had deported himself to Kazima, a
place north-west of Tabora a couple of miles.
August 26th. - The Arabs sallied out this morning to attack Kazima, but
refrained, because Mirambo asked for a day's grace, to eat the beef he
had stolen from them. He has asked them impudently to come to-morrow
morning, at which time he says he will give them plenty of fighting.
Kwihara is once more restored to a peaceful aspect, and fugitives no
longer throng its narrow limits in fear and despair.
August 27th. - Mirambo retreated during the night; and when the Arabs
went in force to attack his village of Kazima, they found it vacant.
The Arabs hold councils of war now-a-days - battle meetings, of which
they seem to be very fond, but extremely slow to act upon. They were
about to make friends with the northern Watuta, but Mirambo was ahead of
them. They had talked of invading Mirambo's territory the second time,
but Mirambo invaded Unyanyembe with fire and sword, bringing death to
many a household, and he has slain the noblest of them all.
The Arabs spend their hours in talking and arguing, while the Ujiji
and Karagwah roads are more firmly closed than ever. Indeed many of
the influential Arabs are talking of returning to Zanzibar; saying,
"Unyanyembe is ruined."
Meanwhile, with poor success, however, perceiving the impossibility of
procuring Wanyamwezi pagazis, I am hiring the Wangwana renegades living
in Unyanyembe to proceed with me to Ujiji, at treble prices. Each man is
offered 30 doti, ordinary hire of a carrier being only from 5 to 10 doti
to Ujiji. I want fifty men. I intend to leave about sixty or seventy
loads here under charge of a guard. I shall leave all personal baggage
behind, except one small portmanteau.
August 28th. - No news to-day of Mirambo. Shaw is getting strong again.
Sheikh bin Nasib called on me to-day, but, except on minor philosophy,
he had nothing to say.
I have determined, after a study of the country, to lead a flying
caravan to Ujiji, by a southern road through northern Ukonongo
and Ukawendi. Sheikh bin Nasib has been informed to-night of this
August 29th. - Shaw got up to-day for a little work. Alas! all my
fine-spun plans of proceeding by boat over the Victoria N'Yanza, thence
down the Nile, have been totally demolished, I fear, through this war
with Mirambo - this black Bonaparte. Two months have been wasted here
already. The Arabs take such a long time to come to a conclusion. Advice
is plentiful, and words are as numerous as the blades of grass in our
valley; all that is wanting indecision. The Arabs' hope and stay is
dead - Khamis bin Abdullah is no more. Where are the other warriors
of whom the Wangwana and Wanyamwezi bards sing? Where is mighty
Kisesa - great Abdullah bin Nasib? Where is Sayd, the son of Majid?
Kisesa is in Zanzibar, and Sayd, the son of Majid, is in Ujiji, as yet
ignorant that his son has fallen in the forest of Wilyankuru.
Shaw is improving fast. I am unsuccessful as yet in procuring soldiers.
I almost despair of ever being able to move from here. It is such a
drowsy, sleepy, slow, dreaming country. Arabs, Wangwana, Wanyamwezi, are
all alike - all careless how time flies. Their to-morrow means sometimes
within a month. To me it is simply maddening.
August 30th. - Shaw will not work. I cannot get him to stir himself. I
have petted him and coaxed him; I have even cooked little luxuries
for him myself. And, while I am straining every nerve to get ready for
Ujiji, Shaw is satisfied with looking on listlessly. What a change from
the ready-handed bold man he was at Zanzibar!
I sat down by his side to-day with my palm and needle in order to
encourage him, and to-day, for the first time, I told him of the real
nature of my mission. I told him that I did not care about the geography
of the country half as much as I cared about FINDING LIVINGSTONE! I told
him, for the first time, "Now, my dear Shaw, you think probably that I
have been sent here to find the depth of the Tanganika. Not a bit of
it, man; I was told to find Livingstone. It is to find Livingstone I am
here. It is to find Livingstone I am going. Don't you see, old fellow,
the importance of the mission; don't you see what reward you will get
from Mr. Bennett, if you will help me? I am sure, if ever you come to
New York, you will never be in want of a fifty-dollar bill. So shake
yourself; jump about; look lively. Say you will not die; that is half
the battle. Snap your fingers at the fever. I will guarantee the fever
won't kill you. I have medicine enough for a regiment here!"
His eyes lit up a little, but the light that shone in them shortly
faded, and died. I was quite disheartened. I made some strong punch, to
put fire in his veins, that I might see life in him. I put sugar, and
eggs, and seasoned it with lemon and spice. "Drink, Shaw," said I, "and
forget your infirmities. You are not sick, dear fellow; it is only ennui
you are feeling. Look at Selim there. Now, I will bet any amount, that
he will not die; that I will carry him home safe to his friends! I will
carry you home also, if you will, let me!"
September 1st: - According to Thani bin Abdullah whom I visited to-day,
at his tembe in Maroro, Mirambo lost two hundred men in the attack upon
Tabora, while the Arabs' losses were, five Arabs, thirteen freemen and
eight slaves, besides three tembes, and over one hundred small huts
burned, two hundred and eighty ivory tusks, and sixty cows and bullocks
September 3rd. - Received a packet of letters and newspapers from Capt.
Webb, at Zanzibar. What a good thing it is that one's friends, even in
far America, think of the absent one in Africa! They tell me, that no
one dreams of my being in Africa yet!
I applied to Sheikh bin Nasib to-day to permit Livingstone's caravan to
go under my charge to Ujiji, but he would not listen to it. He says he
feels certain I am going to my death.
September 4th. - Shaw is quite well to-day, he says. Selim is down with
the fever. My force is gradually increasing, though some of my old
soldiers are falling off. Umgareza is blind; Baruti has the small-pox
very badly; Sadala has the intermittent.
September 5th. - Baruti died this morning. He was one of my best
soldiers; and was one of those men who accompanied Speke to Egypt.
Baruti is number seven of those who have died since leaving Zanzibar.
To-day my ears have been poisoned with the reports of the Arabs, about
the state of the country I am about to travel through. "The roads are
bad; they are all stopped; the Ruga-Ruga are out in the forests; the
Wakonongo are coming from the south to help Mirambo; the Washensi are
at war, one tribe against another." My men are getting dispirited, they
have imbibed the fears of the Arabs and the Wanyamwezi. Bombay begins
to feel that I had better go back to the coast, and try again some other
We buried Baruti under the shade of the banyan-tree, a few yards west
of my tembe. The grave was made four and a half feet deep and three
feet wide. At the bottom on one side a narrow trench was excavated,
into which the body was rolled on his side, with his face turned
towards Mecca. The body was dressed in a doti and a half of new American
sheeting. After it was placed properly in its narrow bed, a sloping
roof of sticks, covered over with matting and old canvas, was made, to
prevent the earth from falling over the body. The grave was then filled,
the soldiers laughing merrily. On the top of the grave was planted a
small shrub, and into a small hole made with the hand, was poured water
lest he might feel thirsty - they said - on his way to Paradise; water was
then sprinkled all ever the grave, and the gourd broken. This ceremony
being ended, the men recited the Arabic Fat-hah, after which they left
the grave of their dead comrade to think no more of him.
September 7th. - An Arab named Mohammed presented me to-day with a little
boy-slave, called "Ndugu M'hali" (my brother's wealth). As I did not
like the name, I called the chiefs of my caravan together, and asked
them to give him a better name. One suggested "Simba" (a lion), another
said he thought "Ngombe" (a cow) would suit the boy-child, another
thought he ought to be called "Mirambo," which raised a loud laugh.
Bombay thought "Bombay Mdogo" would suit my black-skinned infant very
well. Ulimengo, however, after looking at his quick eyes, and noting his
celerity of movement, pronounced the name Ka-lu-la as the best for him,
"because," said he, "just look at his eyes, so bright look at his form,
so slim! watch his movements, how quick! Yes, Kalulu is his name." "Yes,
bana," said the others, "let it be Kalulu."
"Kalulu" is a Kisawahili term for the young of the blue-buck
"Well, then," said I, water being brought in a huge tin pan, Selim, who
was willing to stand godfather, holding him over the water, "let his
name henceforth be Kalulu, and let no man take it from him," and thus it
was that the little black boy of Mohammed's came to be called Kalulu.
The Expedition is increasing in numbers.
We had quite an alarm before dark. Much firing was heard at Tabora,
which led us to anticipate an attack on Kwihara. It turned out, however,
to be a salute fired in honour of the arrival of Sultan Kitambi to pay a
visit to Mkasiwa, Sultan of Unyanyembe.
September 8th. - Towards night Sheikh bin Nasib received a letter from
an Arab at Mfuto, reporting that an attack was made on that place by
Mirambo and his Watuta allies. It also warned him to bid the people of
Kwihara hold themselves in readiness, because if Mirambo succeeded in
storming Mfuto, he would march direct on Kwihara.
September 9th. - Mirambo was defeated with severe loss yesterday, in his
attack upon Mfuto. He was successful in an assault he made upon a
small Wanyamwezi village, but when he attempted to storm Mfuto, he
was repulsed with severe loss, losing three of his principal men. Upon
withdrawing his forces from the attack, the inhabitants sallied out, and
followed him to the forest of Umanda, where he was again utterly routed,
himself ingloriously flying from the field.
The heads of his chief men slain in the attack were brought to Kwikuru,
the boma of Mkasiwa.
September 14th. - The Arab boy Selim is delirious from constant fever.
Shaw is sick again. These two occupy most of my time. I am turned into a
regular nurse, for I have no one to assist me in attending upon them. If
I try to instruct Abdul Kader in the art of being useful, his head is so
befogged with the villainous fumes of Unyamwezi tobacco, that he wanders
bewildered about, breaking dishes, and upsetting cooked dainties, until
I get so exasperated that my peace of mind is broken completely for
a full hour. If I ask Ferajji, my now formally constituted cook, to
assist, his thick wooden head fails to receive an idea, and I am thus
obliged to play the part of chef de cuisine.
September 15th. - The third month of my residence in Unyanyembe is almost
finished, and I am still here, but I hope to be gone before the 23rd
All last night, until nine A.M. this morning, my soldiers danced and
sang to the names of their dead comrades, whose bones now bleach in the
forests of Wilyankuru. Two or three huge pots of pombe failed to satisfy
the raging thirst which the vigorous exercise they were engaged in,
created. So, early this morning, I was called upon to contribute a
shukka for another potful of the potent liquor.
To-day I was busy selecting the loads for each soldier and pagazi. In
order to lighten their labor as much as possible, I reduced each load
from 70 lbs. to 50 lbs., by which I hope to be enabled to make some long
marches. I have been able to engage ten pagazis during the last two or
I have two or three men still very sick, and it is almost useless to
expect that they will be able to carry anything, but I am in hopes that
other men may be engaged to take their places before the actual day of
departure, which now seems to be drawing near rapidly.
September 16th. - We have almost finished our work - on the fifth day from
this - God willing - we shall march. I engaged two more pagazis besides
two guides, named Asmani and Mabruki. If vastness of the human form
could terrify any one, certainly Asmani's appearance is well calculated
to produce that effect. He stands considerably over six feet without
shoes, and has shoulders broad enough for two ordinary men.
To-morrow I mean to give the people a farewell feast, to celebrate our
departure from this forbidding and unhappy country.
September 17th. - The banquet is ended. I slaughtered two bullocks, and
had a barbacue; three sheep, two goats, and fifteen chickens, 120 lbs.
of rice, twenty large loaves of bread made of Indian corn-flour, one
hundred eggs, 10 lbs. of butter, and five gallons of sweet-milk, were
the contents of which the banquet was formed. The men invited their
friends and neighbours, and about one hundred women and children partook
After the banquet was ended, the pombe, or native beer, was brought
in in five gallon pots, and the people commenced their dance, which
continues even now as I write.
September 19th. - I had a slight attack of fever to-day, which has
postponed our departure. Selim and Shaw are both recovered.
About 8 P.M. Sheik bin Nasib came to me imploring me not to go away
to-morrow, because I was so sick. Thani Sakhburi suggested to me that I
might stay another month. In answer, I told them that white men are not
accustomed to break their words. I had said I would go, and I intended
Sheikh bin Nasib gave up all hope of inducing me to remain another day,
and he has gone away, with a promise to write to Seyd Burghash to tell
him how obstinate I am; and that I am determined to be killed. This was
a parting shot.
About 10 P.M. the fever had gone. All were asleep in the tembe but
myself, and an unutterable loneliness came on me as I reflected on my
position, and my intentions, and felt the utter lack of sympathy with me
in all around. It requires more nerve than I possess, to dispel all the
dark presentiments that come upon the mind. But probably what I call
presentiments are simply the impress on the mind of the warnings which
these false-hearted Arabs have repeated so often. This melancholy and
loneliness I feel, may probably have their origin from the same cause.
The single candle, which barely lights up the dark shade that fills the
corners of my room, is but a poor incentive to cheerfulness. I feel as
though I were imprisoned between stone walls. But why should I feel
as if baited by these stupid, slow-witted Arabs and their warnings and
croakings? I fancy a suspicion haunts my mind, as I write, that there
lies some motive behind all this. I wonder if these Arabs tell me
all these things to keep me here, in the hope that I might be induced
another time to assist them in their war with Mirambo! If they think
so, they are much mistaken, for I have taken a solemn, enduring oath,
an oath to be kept while the least hope of life remains in me, not to
be tempted to break the resolution I have formed, never to give up the
search, until I find Livingstone alive, or find his dead body; and never
to return home without the strongest possible proofs that he is alive,
or that he is dead. No living man, or living men, shall stop me, only
death can prevent me. But death - not even this; I shall not die, I will
not die, I cannot die! And something tells me, I do not know what it
is - perhaps it is the ever-living hopefulness of my own nature, perhaps
it is the natural presumption born out of an abundant and glowing
vitality, or the outcome of an overweening confidence in oneself - anyhow
and everyhow, something tells me to-night I shall find him, and - write
it larger - FIND HIM! FIND HIM! Even the words are inspiring. I feel more
happy. Have I uttered a prayer? I shall sleep calmly to-night.
I have felt myself compelled to copy out of my Diary the above notes,
as they explain, written as they are on the spot, the vicissitudes of my
"Life at Unyanyembe." To me they appear to explain far better than any
amount of descriptive writing, even of the most graphic, the nature
of the life I led. There they are, unexaggerated, in their literality,
precisely as I conceived them at the time they happened. They speak of
fevers without number to myself and men, they relate our dangers, and
little joys, our annoyances and our pleasures, as they occurred.
CHAPTER X. - TO MRERA, UKONONGO.
Departure from Unyanyembe. - The expedition reorganized. -
Bombay. - Mr. Shaw returns sick to Unyanyembe. - A noble
forest.-The fever described. - Happiness of the camp. - A
park-land. - Herds of game and noble sport. - A mutiny. -
Punishment of the ringleaders. Elephants. - Arrival at Mrera
The 20th of September had arrived. This was the day I had decided to cut
loose from those who tormented me with their doubts, their fears, and
beliefs, and commence the march to Ujiji by a southern route. I was very
weak from the fever that had attacked me the day before, and it was a
most injudicious act to commence a march under such circumstances. But I
had boasted to Sheikh bin Nasib that a white man never breaks his word,
and my reputation as a white man would have been ruined had I stayed
behind, or postponed the march, in consequence of feebleness.
I mustered the entire caravan outside the tembe, our flags and streamers
were unfurled, the men had their loads resting on the walls, there was
considerable shouting, and laughing, and negroidal fanfaronnade. The
Arabs had collected from curiosity's sake to see us off - all except
Sheikh bin Nasib, whom I had offended by my asinine opposition to his
wishes. The old Sheikh took to his bed, but sent his son to bear me a
last morsel of Philosophic sentimentality, which I was to treasure up as
the last words of the patriarchal Sheikh, the son of Nasib, the son of
Ali, the son of Sayf. Poor Sheikh! if thou hadst only known what was at
the bottom of this stubbornness - this ass-like determination to proceed
the wrong way - what wouldst thou then have said, 0 Sheikh? But the
Sheikh comforted himself with the thought that I might know what I was
about better than he did, which is most likely, only neither he nor any
other Arab will ever know exactly the motive that induced me to march at
all westward - when the road to the east was ever so much easier.
My braves whom I had enlisted for a rapid march somewhere, out of
Unyanyembe, were named as follows: -
1. John William Shaw, London, England.
2. Selim Heshmy, Arab.
3. Seedy Mbarak Mombay, Zanzibar.
4. Mabruki Spoke, ditto.
5. Ulimengo, ditto
6. Ambari, ditto.
7. Uledi, ditto.
8. Asmani, ditto.
9. Sarmean, ditto.
10. Kamna, ditto.
11. Zaidi, ditto.
12. Khamisi, ditto.
13. Chowpereh, Bagamoyo.
14. Kingaru, ditto.
15. Belali, ditto.
16. Ferous, Unyanyembe.
17. Rojab, Bagamoyo.
18. Mabruk Unyanyembe, Unyanyembe.
19. Mtamani, ditto.
20. Chanda, Maroro.
21. Sadala, Zanzibar.
22. Kombo, ditto.
23. Saburi the Great, Maroro.
24. Saburi the Little, ditto.
25. Marora, ditto.
26. Ferajji (the cook), Zanzibar.
27. Mabruk Saleem, Zanzibar.
28. Baraka, ditto.
29. Ibrahim, Maroro.
30. Mabruk Ferous, ditto.
31. Baruti, Bagamoyo.
32. Umgareza, Zanzibar.
33. Hamadi (the guide), ditto.
34. Asmani, ditto, ditto.
35. Mabruk, ditto ditto.
36. Hamdallah (the guide), Tabora.
37. Jumah, Zanzibar.
38. Maganga, Mkwenkwe.
39. Muccadum, Tabora.
40. Dasturi, ditto.
41. Tumayona, Ujiji.
42. Mparamoto, Ujiji.
43. Wakiri, ditto.
44. Mufu, ditto.
45. Mpepo, ditto.
46. Kapingu, Ujiji.
47. Mashishanga, ditto.
48. Muheruka, ditto.
49. Missossi, ditto.
50. Tufum Byah, ditto.
51. Majwara (boy), Uganda.
52. Belali (boy), Uemba.
53. Kalulu (boy), Lunda.
54. Abdul Kader (tailor), Malabar.
These are the men and boys whom I had chosen to be my companions on
the apparently useless mission of seeking for the lost traveller, David
Livingstone. The goods with which I had burdened them, consisted of
1,000 doti, or 4,000 yds. of cloth, six bags of beads, four loads of
ammunition, one tent, one bed and clothes, one box of medicine, sextant
and books, two loads of tea, coffee, and sugar, one load of flour
and candles, one load of canned meats, sardines, and miscellaneous
necessaries, and one load of cooking utensils.
The men were all in their places except Bombay. Bombay had gone; he
could not be found. I despatched a man to hunt him up. He was found
weeping in the arms of his Delilah.
"Why did you go away, Bombay, when you knew I intended to go, and was
"Oh, master, I was saying good-bye to my missis."
"Yes, master; you no do it, when you go away?
"Oh! all right."
"What is the matter with you, Bombay?"
As I saw he was in a humour to pick a quarrel with me before those Arabs
who had congregated outside of my tembe to witness my departure; and as
I was not in a humour to be balked by anything that might turn up, the
consequence was, that I was obliged to thrash Bombay, an operation which