During this long time no tidings of Livingstone reached Europe, and many were the misgivings lest the rumours of his death were only too true. He was himself, too, almost despairing as to receiving any help. But help was closer at hand than he thought. On the 3rd of November, only eleven days after his return to Ujiji, some gunshots were heard within half a mile of the lake. The doctor went out to ascertain whence they proceeded, and had not gone far before a white man stood before him.
“You are Dr. Livingstone, I presume,” said the stranger, raising his cap.
“Yes, sir, I am Dr. Livingstone, and am happy to see you,” answered the doctor, smiling kindly.
The two shook each other warmly by the hand.
The new arrival was Henry Stanley, the correspondent of the New York Herald, who had been sent out by Mr. Bennett, the editor, in search of the great African explorer. On receiving his orders in October, 1870, without a day’s unnecessary delay he had embarked at Bombay for Zanzibar, and, after a journey involving considerable peril, had arrived safely at Ujiji.
Very soon the two travellers found themselves on the best of terms, and set out together on an excursion to the north of Tanganyika. They proceeded as far as Cape Magala, and decided that the chief outlet of the lake must be an affluent of the Lualaba, a conclusion that was subsequently confirmed by Cameron.
Towards the end of the year Stanley began to prepare to return. Livingstone accompanied him as far as Kwihara, and on the 3rd of the following March they parted.
“You have done for me what few men would venture to do; I am truly grateful,” said Livingstone.
Stanley could scarcely repress his tears as he expressed his hope that the doctor might be spared to return to his friends safe and well.
“Goodbye!” said Stanley, choked with emotion.
“Goodbye!” answered the veteran feebly.
Thus they parted, and in July, 1872, Stanley landed at Marseilles.
Again David Livingstone resumed his researches in the interior.
After remaining five months at Kwihara he gathered together a retinue consisting of his faithful followers Suzi, Chumah, Amoda, and Jacob Wainwright, and fifty-six men sent to him by Stanley, and lost no time in proceeding towards the south of Tanganyika. In the course of the ensuing month the caravan encountered some frightful storms, but succeeded in reaching Moura. There had previously been an extreme drought, which was now followed by the rainy season, which entailed the loss of many of the beasts of burden, in consequence of the bites of the tsetse.
On the 24th of January they were at Chitounkwé, and in April, after rounding the east of Lake Bangweolo, they made their way towards the village of Chitambo. At this point it was that Livingstone had parted company with certain slave-dealers, who had carried the information to old Alvez that the missionary traveller would very likely proceed by way of Luanda to Kazonndé.
But on the 13th of June, the very day before Negoro reckoned on obtaining from Mrs. Weldon the letter which should be the means of securing him a hundred thousand dollars, tidings were circulated in the district that on the 1st of May Dr. Livingstone had breathed his last.
The report proved perfectly true. On the 29th of April the caravan had reached the village of Chitambo, the doctor so unwell that he was carried on a litter. The following night he was in great pain, and after repeatedly murmuring in a low voice, “Oh dear, oh dear!” he fell into a kind of stupor. A short time afterwards he called up Suzi, and having asked for some medicine, told his attendant that he should not require anything more.
“You can go now.”
About four o’clock next morning, when an anxious visit was made to his room, the doctor was found kneeling by the bedside, his head in his hands, in the attitude of prayer. Suzi touched him, but his forehead was icy with the coldness of death. He had died in the night.
His body was carried by those who loved him, and in spite of many obstacles was brought to Zanzibar, whence, nine months after his death, it was conveyed to England. On the 12th of April, 1874, it was interred in Westminster Abbey, counted worthy to be deposited amongst those whom the country most delights to honour.
XV
An Exciting Chase
To say the truth, it was the very vaguest of hopes to which Mrs. Weldon had been clinging, yet it was not without some thrill of disappointment that she heard from the lips of old Alvez himself that Dr. Livingstone had died at a little village on Lake Bangweolo. There had appeared to be a sort of a link binding her to the civilized world, but it was now abruptly snapped, and nothing remained for her but to make what terms she could with the base and heartless Negoro.
On the 14th, the day appointed for the interview, he made his appearance at the hut, firmly resolved to make no abatement in the terms that he had proposed, Mrs. Weldon, on her part, being equally determined not to yield to the demand.
“There is only one condition,” she avowed, “upon which I will acquiesce. My husband shall not be required to come up the country here.”
Negoro hesitated; at length he said that he would agree to her husband being taken by ship to Mossamedes, a small port in the south of Angola, much frequented by slavers, whither also, at a date hereafter to be fixed, Alvez
