A Popular Account of Dr. Livingstone's Expedition to the Zambesi and Its Tributaries

The muddy ground under the mangrove-trees is covered with soldier-crabs, which quickly slink into their holes on any symptom of danger.  When the ebbing tide retires, myriads of minute crabs emerge from their underground quarters, and begin to work like so many busy bees.  Soon many miles of the smooth sand become rough with the results of their labour.  They are toiling for their daily bread: a round bit of moist sand appears at the little labourer’s mouth, and is quickly brushed off by one of the claws; a second bit follows the first; and another, and still another come as fast as they can be laid aside.  As these pellets accumulate, the crab moves sideways, and the work continues.  The first impression one receives is, that the little creature has swallowed a great deal of sand, and is getting rid of it as speedily as possible: a habit he indulges in of darting into his hole at intervals, as if for fresh supplies, tends to strengthen this idea; but the size of the heaps formed in a few seconds shows that this cannot be the case, and leads to the impression that, although not readily seen, at the distance at which he chooses to keep the observer, yet that possibly he raises the sand to his mouth, where whatever animalcule it may contain is sifted out of it, and the remainder rejected in the manner described.  At times the larger species of crabs perform a sort of concert; and from each subterranean abode strange sounds arise, as if, in imitation of the songsters of the groves, for very joy they sang!

We found some natives pounding the woody stems of a poisonous climbing-plant (Dirca palustris) called Busungu, or poison, which grows abundantly in the swamps.  When a good quantity was bruised, it was tied up in bundles.  The stream above and below was obstructed with bushes, and with a sort of rinsing motion the poison was diffused through the water.  Many fish were soon affected, swain in shore, and died, others were only stupefied.  The plant has pink, pea-shaped blossoms, and smooth, pointed, glossy leaves, and the brown bark is covered with minute white points.  The knowledge of it might prove of use to a shipwrecked party by enabling them to catch the fish.

The poison is said to be deleterious to man if the water is drunk; but not when the fish is cooked.  The Busungu is repulsive to some insects, and is smeared round the shoots of the palm-trees to prevent the ants from getting into the palm wine while it is dropping from the tops of the palm-trees into the little pots suspended to collect it.

We were in the habit of walking from our beds into the salt water at sunrise, for a bath, till a large crocodile appeared at the bathing-place, and from that time forth we took our dip in the sea, away from the harbour, about midday.  This is said to be unwholesome, but we did not find it so.  It is certainly better not to bathe in the mornings, when the air is colder than the water—for then, on returning to the cooler air, one is apt to get a chill and fever.  In the mouth of the river, many saw-fish are found.  Rowe saw one while bathing—caught it by the tail, and shoved it, “snout on,” ashore.  The saw is from a foot to eighteen inches long.  We never heard of any one being wounded by this fish; nor, though it goes hundreds of miles up the river in fresh water, could we learn that it was eaten by the people.  The hippopotami delighted to spend the day among the breakers, and seemed to enjoy the fun as much as we did.

Severe gales occurred during our stay on the Coast, and many small sea-birds (Prion Banksii, Smith) perished: the beach was strewn with their dead bodies, and some were found hundreds of yards inland; many were so emaciated as to dry up without putrefying.  We were plagued with myriads of mosquitoes, and had some touches of fever; the men we brought from malarious regions of the interior suffered almost as much from it here as we did ourselves.  This gives strength to the idea that the civilized withstand the evil influences of strange climates better than the uncivilized.  When negroes return to their own country from healthy lands, they suffer as severely as foreigners ever do.

On the 31st of January, 1861, our new ship, the “Pioneer,” arrived from England, and anchored outside the bar; but the weather was stormy, and she did not venture in till the 4th of February.

Two of H.M. cruisers came at the same time, bringing Bishop Mackenzie, and the Oxford and Cambridge Mission to the tribes of the Shiré and Lake Nyassa.  The Mission consisted of six Englishmen, and five coloured men from the Cape.  It was a puzzle to know what to do with so many men.  The estimable Bishop, anxious to commence his work without delay, wished the “Pioneer” to carry the Mission up the Shiré, as far as Chibisa’s, and there leave them.  But there were grave objections to this.  The “Pioneer” was under orders to explore the Rovuma, as the Portuguese Government had refused to open the Zambesi to the ships of other nations, and their officials were very effectually pursuing a system, which, by abstracting the labour, was rendering the country of no value either to foreigners or to themselves.  She was already two months behind her time, and the rainy season was half over.  Then, if the party were taken to Chibisa’s, the Mission would he left without a medical attendant, in an unhealthy region, at the beginning of the most sickly season of the year, and without means of reaching the healthy highlands, or of returning to the sea.  We dreaded that, in the absence of medical aid and all knowledge of the treatment of fever, there might be a repetition of the sorrowful fate which befell the similar non-medical Mission at Linyanti.

On the 25th of February the “Pioneer” anchored in the mouth of the Rovuma, which, unlike most African rivers, has a magnificent bay and no bar.  We wooded, and then waited for the Bishop till the 9th of March, when he came in the “Lyra.”  On the 11th we proceeded up the river, and saw that it had fallen four or five feet during our detention.  The scenery on the lower part of the Rovuma is superior to that on the Zambesi, for we can see the highlands from the sea.  Eight miles from the mouth the mangroves are left behind, and a beautiful range of well-wooded hills on each bank begins.  On these ridges the tree resembling African blackwood, of finer grain than ebony, grows abundantly, and attains a large size.  Few people were seen, and those were of Arab breed, and did not appear to be very well off.  The current of the Rovuma was now as strong as that of the Zambesi, but the volume of water is very much less.  Several of the crossings had barely water enough for our ship, drawing five feet, to pass.  When we were thirty miles up the river, the water fell suddenly seven inches in twenty-four hours.  As the March flood is the last of the season, and it appeared to be expended, it was thought prudent to avoid the chance of a year’s detention, by getting the ship back to the sea without delay.  Had the Expedition been alone, we would have pushed up in boats, or afoot, and done what we could towards the exploration of the river and upper end of the lake; but, though the Mission was a private one, and entirely distinct from our own, a public one, the objects of both being similar, we felt anxious to aid our countrymen in their noble enterprise; and, rather than follow our own inclination, decided to return to the Shiré, see the Mission party settled safely, and afterwards explore Lake Nyassa and the Rovuma, from the Lake downwards.  Fever broke out on board the “Pioneer,” at the mouth of the Rovuma, as we thought from our having anchored close to a creek coming out of the mangroves; and it remained in her until we completely isolated the engine-room from the rest of the ship.  The coal-dust rotting sent out strong effluvia, and kept up the disease for more than a twelvemonth.

Soon after we started the fever put the “Pioneer” almost entirely into the hands of the original Zambesi Expedition, and not long afterwards the leader had to navigate the ocean as well as the river.  The habit of finding the geographical positions on land renders it an easy task to steer a steamer with only three or four sails at sea; where, if one does not run ashore, no one follows to find out an error, and where a current affords a ready excuse for every blunder.

Touching at Mohilla, one of the Comoro Islands, on our return, we found a mixed race of Arabs, Africans, and their conquerors, the natives of Madagascar.  Being Mahometans, they have mosques and schools, in which we were pleased to see girls as well as boys taught to read the Koran.  The teacher said he was paid by the job, and received ten dollars for teaching each child to read.  The clever ones learn in six months; but the dull ones take a couple of years.  We next went over to Johanna for our friends; and, after a sojourn of a few days at the beautiful Comoro Islands, we sailed for the Kongoné mouth of the Zambesi with Bishop Mackenzie and his party.  We reached the coast in seven days, and passed up the Zambesi to the Shiré.

The “Pioneer,” constructed under the skilful supervision of Admiral Sir Baldwin Walker and the late Admiral Washington, warm-hearted and highly esteemed friends of the Expedition, was a very superior vessel, and well suited for our work in every respect, except in her draught of water.  Five feet were found to be too much for the navigation of the upper part of the Shiré.  Designed to draw three feet only, the weight necessary to impart extra strength, and fit her for the ocean, brought her down two feet more, and caused us a great deal of hard and vexatious work, in laying out anchors, and toiling at the capstan to get her off sandbanks.  We should not have minded this much, but for the heavy loss of time which might have been more profitably, and infinitely more pleasantly, spent in intercourse with the people, exploring new regions, and otherwise carrying out the objects of the Expedition.  Once we were a fortnight on a bank of soft yielding sand, having only two or three inches less water than the ship drew; this delay was occasioned by the anchors coming home, and the current swinging the ship broadside on the bank, which, immediately on our touching, always formed behind us.  We did not like to leave the ship short of Chibisa’s, lest the crew should suffer from the malaria of the lowland around; and it would have been difficult to have got the Mission goods carried up.  We were daily visited by crowds of natives, who brought us abundance of provisions far beyond our ability to consume.  In hauling the “Pioneer” over the shallow places, the Bishop, with Horace Waller and Mr. Scudamore, were ever ready and anxious to lend a hand, and worked as hard as any on board.  Had our fine little ship drawn but three feet, she could have run up and down the river at any time of the year with the greatest ease, but as it was, having once passed up over a few shallow banks, it was impossible to take her down again until the river rose in December.  She could go up over a bank, but not come down over it, as a heap of sand always formed instantly astern, while the current washed it away from under her bows.

On at last reaching Chibisa’s, we heard that there was war in the Manganja country, and the slave-trade was going on briskly.  A deputation from a chief near Mount Zomba had just passed on its way to Chibisa, who was in a distant village, to implore him to come himself, or send medicine, to drive off the Waiao, Waiau, or Ajawa, whose marauding parties were desolating the land.  A large gang of recently enslaved Manganja crossed the river, on their way to Tette, a few days before we got the ship up.  Chibisa’s deputy was civil, and readily gave us permission to hire as many men to carry the Bishop’s goods up to the hills as were willing to go.  With a sufficient number, therefore, we started for the highlands on the 15th of July, to show the Bishop the country, which, from its altitude and coolness, was most suitable for a station.  Our first day’s march was a long and fatiguing one.  The few hamlets we passed were poor, and had no food for our men, and we were obliged to go on till 4 p.m., when we entered the small village of Chipindu.  The inhabitants complained of hunger, and said they had no food to sell, and no hut for us to sleep in; but, if we would only go on a little further, we should come to a village where they had plenty to eat; but we had travelled far enough, and determined to remain where we were.  Before sunset as much food was brought as we cared to purchase, and, as it threatened to rain, huts were provided for the whole party.

Next forenoon we halted at the village of our old friend Mbamé, to obtain new carriers, because Chibisa’s men, never before having been hired, and not having yet learned to trust us, did not choose to go further.  After resting a little, Mbamé told us that a slave party on its way to Tette would presently pass through his village.  “Shall we interfere?” we inquired of each other.  We remembered that all our valuable private baggage was in Tette, which, if we freed the slaves, might, together with some Government property, be destroyed in retaliation; but this system of slave-hunters dogging us where previously they durst not venture, and, on pretence of being “our children,” setting one tribe against another, to furnish themselves with slaves, would so inevitably thwart all the efforts, for which we had the sanction of the Portuguese Government, that we resolved to run all risks, and put a stop, if possible, to the slave-trade, which had now followed on the footsteps of our discoveries.  A few minutes after Mbamé had spoken to us, the slave party, a long line of manacled men, women, and children, came wending their way round the hill and into the valley, on the side of which the village stood.  The black drivers, armed with muskets, and bedecked with various articles of finery, marched jauntily in the front, middle, and rear of the line; some of them blowing exultant notes out of long tin horns.  They seemed to feel that they were doing a very noble thing, and might proudly march with an air of triumph.  But the instant the fellows caught a glimpse of the English, they darted off like mad into the forest; so fast, indeed, that we caught but a glimpse of their red caps and the soles of their feet.  The chief of the party alone remained; and he, from being in front, had his hand tightly grasped by a Makololo!  He proved to be a well-known slave of the late Commandant at Tette, and for some time our own attendant while there.  On asking him how he obtained these captives, he replied he had bought them; but on our inquiring of the people themselves, all, save four, said they had been captured in war.  While this inquiry was going on, he bolted too.  The captives knelt down, and, in their way of expressing thanks, clapped their hands with great energy.  They were thus left entirely on our hands, and knives were soon busy at work cutting the women and children loose.  It was more difficult to cut the men adrift, as each had his neck in the fork of a stout stick, six or seven feet long, and was kept in by an iron rod which was riveted at both ends across the throat.  With a saw, luckily in the Bishop’s baggage, one by one the men were sawn out into freedom.  The women, on being told to take the meal they were carrying and cook breakfast for themselves and the children, seemed to consider the news too good to be true; but after a little coaxing went at it with alacrity, and made a capital fire by which to boil their pots with the slave sticks and bonds, their old acquaintances through many a sad night and weary day.  Many were mere children about five years of age and under.  One little boy, with the simplicity of childhood, said to our men, “The others tied and starved us, you cut the ropes and tell us to eat; what sort of people are you?—Where did you come from?”  Two of the women had been shot the day before for attempting to untie the thongs.  This, the rest were told, was to prevent them from attempting to escape.  One woman had her infant’s brains knocked out, because she could not carry her load and it.  And a man was dispatched with an axe, because he had broken down with fatigue.  Self-interest would have set a watch over the whole rather than commit murder; but in this traffic we invariably find self-interest overcome by contempt of human life and by bloodthirstiness.

The Bishop was not present at this scene, having gone to bathe in a little stream below the village; but on his return he warmly approved of what had been done; he at first had doubts, but now felt that, had he been present, he would have joined us in the good work.  Logic is out of place when the question with a true-hearted man is, whether his brother man is to be saved or not.  Eighty-four, chiefly women and children, were liberated; and on being told that they were now free, and might go where they pleased, or remain with us, they all chose to stay; and the Bishop wisely attached them to his Mission, to be educated as members of a Christian family.  In this way a great difficulty in the commencement of a Mission was overcome.  Years are usually required before confidence is so far instilled into the natives’ mind as to induce them, young or old, to submit to the guidance of strangers professing to be actuated by motives the reverse of worldly wisdom, and inculcating customs strange and unknown to them and their fathers.

We proceeded next morning to Soché’s with our liberated party, the men cheerfully carrying the Bishop’s goods.  As we had begun, it was of no use to do things by halves, so eight others were freed in a hamlet on our path; but a party of traders, with nearly a hundred slaves, fled from Soché’s on hearing of our proceedings.  Dr. Kirk and four Makololo followed them with great energy, but they made clear off to Tette.  Six more captives were liberated at Mongazi’s, and two slave-traders detained for the night, to prevent them from carrying information to a large party still in front.  Of their own accord they volunteered the information that the Governor’s servants had charge of the next party; but we did not choose to be led by them, though they offered to guide us to his Excellency’s own agents.  Two of the Bishop’s black men from the Cape, having once been slaves, were now zealous emancipators, and volunteered to guard the prisoners during the night.  So anxious were our heroes to keep them safe, that instead of relieving each other, by keeping watch and watch, both kept watch together, till towards four o’clock in the morning, when sleep stole gently over them both; and the wakeful prisoners, seizing the opportunity, escaped: one of the guards, perceiving the loss, rushed out of the hut, shouting, “They are gone, the prisoners are off, and they have taken my rifle with them, and the women too!  Fire! everybody fire!”  The rifle and the women, however, were all safe enough, the slave-traders being only too glad to escape alone.  Fifty more slaves were freed next day in another village; and, the whole party being stark-naked, cloth enough was left to clothe them, better probably than they had ever been clothed before.  The head of this gang, whom we knew as the agent of one of the principal merchants of Tette, said that they had the license of the Governor for all they did.  This we were fully aware of without his stating it.  It is quite impossible for any enterprise to be undertaken there without the Governor’s knowledge and connivance.

The portion of the highlands which the Bishop wished to look at before deciding on a settlement belonged to Chiwawa, or Chibaba, the most manly and generous Manganja chief we had met with on our previous journey.  On reaching Nsambo’s, near Mount Chiradzuru, we heard that Chibaba was dead, and that Chigunda was chief instead.  Chigunda, apparently of his own accord, though possibly he may have learnt that the Bishop intended to settle somewhere in the country, asked him to come and live with him at Magomero, adding that there was room enough for both.  This hearty and spontaneous invitation had considerable influence on the Bishop’s mind, and seemed to decide the question.  A place nearer the Shiré would have been chosen had he expected his supplies to come up that river; but the Portuguese, claiming the river Shiré, though never occupying even its mouth, had closed it, as well as the Zambesi.

Our hopes were turned to the Rovuma, as a free highway into Lake Nyassa and the vast interior.  A steamer was already ordered for the Lake, and the Bishop, seeing the advantageous nature of the highlands which stretch an immense way to the north, was more anxious to be near the Lake and the Rovuma, than the Shiré.  When he decided to settle at Magomero, it was thought desirable, to prevent the country from being depopulated, to visit the Ajawa chief, and to try and persuade him to give up his slaving and kidnapping courses, and turn the energies of his people to peaceful pursuits.

On the morning of the 22nd we were informed that the Ajawa were near, and were burning a village a few miles off.  Leaving the rescued slaves, we moved off to seek an interview with these scourges of the country.  On our way we met crowds of Manganja fleeing from the war in front.  These poor fugitives from the slave hunt had, as usual, to leave all the food they possessed, except the little they could carry on their heads.  We passed field after field of Indian corn or beans, standing ripe for harvesting, but the owners were away.  The villages were all deserted: one where we breakfasted two years before, and saw a number of men peacefully weaving cloth, and, among ourselves, called it the “Paisley of the hills,” was burnt; the stores of corn were poured out in cartloads, and scattered all over the plain, and all along the paths, neither conquerors nor conquered having been able to convey it away.  About two o’clock we saw the smoke of burning villages, and heard triumphant shouts, mingled with the wail of the Manganja women, lamenting over their slain.  The Bishop then engaged us in fervent prayer; and, on rising from our knees, we saw a long line of Ajawa warriors, with their captives, coming round the hill-side.  The first of the returning conquerors were entering their own village below, and we heard women welcoming them back with “lillilooings.”  The Ajawa headman left the path on seeing us, and stood on an anthill to obtain a complete view of our party.  We called out that we had come to have an interview with them, but some of the Manganja who followed us shouted “Our Chibisa is come:” Chibisa being well known as a great conjurer and general.  The Ajawa ran off yelling and screaming, “Nkondo! Nkondo!” (War! War!)  We heard the words of the Manganja, but they did not strike us at the moment as neutralizing all our assertions of peace.  The captives threw down their loads on the path, and fled to the hills: and a large body of armed men came running up from the village, and in a few seconds they were all around us, though mostly concealed by the projecting rocks and long grass.  In vain we protested that we had not come to fight, but to talk with them.  They would not listen, having, as we remembered afterwards, good reason, in the cry of “Our Chibisa.”  Flushed with recent victory over three villages, and confident of an easy triumph over a mere handful of men, they began to shoot their poisoned arrows, sending them with great force upwards of a hundred yards, and wounding one of our followers through the arm.  Our retiring slowly up the ascent from the village only made them more eager to prevent our escape; and, in the belief that this retreat was evidence of fear, they closed upon us in bloodthirsty fury.  Some came within fifty yards, dancing hideously; others having quite surrounded us, and availing themselves of the rocks and long grass hard by, were intent on cutting us off, while others made off with their women and a large body of slaves.  Four were armed with muskets, and we were obliged in self-defence to return their fire and drive them off.  When they saw the range of rifles, they very soon desisted, and ran away; but some shouted to us from the hills the consoling intimation, that they would follow, and kill us where we slept.  Only two of the captives escaped to us, but probably most of those made prisoners that day fled elsewhere in the confusion.  We returned to the village which we had left in the morning, after a hungry, fatiguing, and most unpleasant day.

Though we could not blame ourselves for the course we had followed, we felt sorry for what had happened.  It was the first time we had ever been attacked by the natives or come into collision with them; though we had always taken it for granted that we might be called upon to act in self-defence, we were on this occasion less prepared than usual, no game having been expected here.  The men had only a single round of cartridge each; their leader had no revolver, and the rifle he usually fired with was left at the ship to save it from the damp of the season.  Had we known better the effect of slavery and murder on the temper of these bloodthirsty marauders, we should have tried messages and presents before going near them.