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Dubris (United Kingdom) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
at you hear my plucky fisher-boys from the Medway, Francis and Edward Pocock, who, with Frederick Barker, were his only white companions in the expedition. All three did gallant work, and not one returned.--D. S. saying to the white cliffs of Dover, Good-bye, dear England! and if for ever, then for ever good-bye, O England! Think of us a few weeks later, arrived at Zanzibar, where we make our final preparations for the long journey we are about to make. Zanzibar is an island, as I supplater we emerged out of this on a circular expanse. The white cliffs of Albion were duplicated by white sand-cliffs on our right, at the entrance, capped by grassy downs. Cheered at the sight, Frank Pocock cried out, Why, here are the cliffs of Dover, and this singular expanse we shall call Stanley Pool! The stretch of uninterrupted navigation I had just descended measured one thousand and seventy statute miles. At the lower end of Stanley Pool, the river contracted again, and presently l
Lake Lincoln (Missouri, United States) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
le my little ebon page Mabruki poured out the evening's coffee, I described the difficulty we were in. I said, These Arabs have told such frightful tales about the lands north of here, that unless Tippu-Tib accepts my offer, the expedition will be broken up, for our men are demoralized through fear of cannibals and pythons, leopards and gorillas, and all sorts of horrible things. Canoes we cannot get; both Livingstone and Cameron failed. Now, what do you say, Frank, shall we go south to Lake Lincoln, Lake Kamalondo, Lake Bemba, and down to the Zambezi? Ah, that's a fine trip, sir. Or shall we explore north-east of here until we strike the Muta Nzige, then strike across to Uganda, and back to Zanzibar? Ah, that would be a fine job, sir, if we could do it. Or shall we follow this great river, which for all these thousands of years has been flowing northward through hundreds, possibly thousands of miles, of which no one has ever heard a word? Fancy, by and by, after bui
Lukuga (Congo) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
the Waganda, and travelled south until we came to Lake Tanganyika. We launched our boat on that lake, and, circumnavigating it, discovered that there was only a periodical outlet to it. It is, at this present time, steadily flowing out by the Lukuga River, westward to the Lualaba, until, at some other period of drought, the Tanganyika shall again be reduced, and the Lukuga bed be filled with vegetation. Thus, by the circumnavigation of the two lakes, two of the geographical problems I had unnnection with the Albert Nyanza; and, at present, it had no outlet. Should it continue to rise, as there was sufficient evidence to prove that for at least thirty years it had been steadily doing, its surplus waters would be discharged by the Lukuga River into the Lualaba. There now remained the grandest task of all, in attempting to settle which Livingstone had sacrificed himself. Is the Lualaba, which he had traced along a course of nearly thirteen hundred miles, the Nile, the Niger, or t
Lualaba (Congo) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
eature of it, and the little — too little — promise of success which one feels on entering it. But, never mind, I will try it! Indeed, I have a spur to goad me on. My tale of the discovery of Livingstone has been doubted. What I have already endured in that accursed Africa amounts to nothing, in men's estimation. Here, then, is an opportunity for me to prove my veracity, and the genuineness of my narrative! Let me see: Livingstone died in endeavouring to solve the problem of the Lualaba River. John Hanning Speke died by a gun-shot wound during a discussion as to whether Lake Victoria was one lake, as he maintained it to be; or whether, as asserted by Captain Burton, James McQueen, and other theorists, it consisted of a cluster of lakes. Lake Tanganyika, being a sweet-water lake, must naturally possess an outlet somewhere. It has not been circumnavigated and is therefore unexplored. I will settle that problem also. Then I may be able to throw some light on Lake Albert
Boma (Congo) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
me pea-nuts, and stunted bananas. We tottered on our way to the Atlantic, a scattered column of long and lean bodies, dysentery, ulcers, and scurvy, fast absorbing the remnant of life left by famine. I despatched couriers ahead. Two days from Boma, they returned with abundance. We revived, and, staggering, arrived at Boma on the 9th of August, 1877, and an international gathering of European merchants met me, and, smiling a warm welcome, told me kindly that I had done right well. Three Boma on the 9th of August, 1877, and an international gathering of European merchants met me, and, smiling a warm welcome, told me kindly that I had done right well. Three days later, I gazed upon the Atlantic Ocean, and I saw the puissant river flowing into the bosom of that boundless, endless sea. But, grateful as I felt to Him who had enabled me to pierce the Dark Continent from east to west, my heart was charged with grief, and my eyes with tears, at the thought of the many comrades and friends I had lost. The unparalleled fidelity of my people to me demanded that I should return them to their homes. Accordingly, I accompanied them round the Cape of Good H
Refuge Island (New York, United States) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
boards of the boat up for paddles. The canoes advancing fiercely on us, we desisted from paddling. I loaded my elephant-rifle with explosive bullets, and when the foremost canoe was about eighty yards off, took deliberate aim at a spot in it between wind and water. The shell struck, and tore a large fragment from the brittle wood. The canoe sank. Another canoe soon after met the same fate; the others returned. We were saved! After being seventy-six hours without food, we reached Refuge Island. We shot some ducks, and discovered some wild fruit. Delicious evening,--how we enjoyed it! The next day we made new oars; and, finally, after fifty-seven days absence from our camp, relieved our anxious people. But where is Barker? I asked Frank Pocock. He died twelve days ago, sir, and lies there, pointing to a new mound of earth near the landing-place. I must pass briefly over many months, replete with adventures, sorrow, suffering, perils by flood and field. Within a
Westminster (Maryland, United States) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
re, but he said it was illimitable to the south-west. To know the extent of that lake would be worth some trouble. Surely, if I can resolve any of these, which such travellers as Dr. Livingstone, Captains Burton, Speke, and Grant, and Sir Samuel Baker left unsettled, people must needs believe that I discovered Livingstone! A little while after the burial For a full account of the funeral obsequies, see the Memoir prefacing Stanley's book, How I Found Livingstone. of Livingstone at Westminster, I strolled over to the office of the Daily telegraph, and pointed out to the proprietors how much remained shrouded in mystery in Dark Africa. The proprietor asked, But do you think you can settle all these interesting geographical problems? Nay, Mr. Lawson, that is not a fair question. I mean to say I can do my level best, that nothing on my part shall be lacking to make a systematic exploration which shall embrace all the regions containing these secrets; but Africa includes so
Victoria Nyanza (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
peke died by a gun-shot wound during a discussion as to whether Lake Victoria was one lake, as he maintained it to be; or whether, as asserteting to know, by actual survey, what was the character of this Victoria Nyanza. Was it really one lake, or a cluster of shallow lakes or mare coasted around the indented shores of Speke Gulf, and touched at Ukerewe, where our guide had many friends, who told us, for the exceeding rtunity to escape the doom which we were hurrying to meet. From Ukerewe we sailed by the picturesque shores of Wye; thence along the coastering, perils by flood and field. Within a few weeks, the King of Ukerewe having furnished me with canoes, I transported the expedition acroort. With these we travelled west from the north-west comer of Lake Victoria and discovered the giant mountain Gordon Bennett, in the countrs as to make it impossible to resist them, we retreated back to Lake Victoria. We then bade adieu to the Waganda, and travelled south until
Lake Tanganyika (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
was one lake, as he maintained it to be; or whether, as asserted by Captain Burton, James McQueen, and other theorists, it consisted of a cluster of lakes. Lake Tanganyika, being a sweet-water lake, must naturally possess an outlet somewhere. It has not been circumnavigated and is therefore unexplored. I will settle that probl numbers as to make it impossible to resist them, we retreated back to Lake Victoria. We then bade adieu to the Waganda, and travelled south until we came to Lake Tanganyika. We launched our boat on that lake, and, circumnavigating it, discovered that there was only a periodical outlet to it. It is, at this present time, steadily itself that it was the Congo. But he resisted the idea. Anything for the Nile, he said, but I will not be made black man's meat for the Congo! I crossed Lake Tanganyika with my expedition, lifted once more my gallant boat on our shoulders, and after a march of nearly two hundred and twenty miles arrived at the superb river on
English Channel (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.19
w York City, and, after a moment's thought, snatched a blank form and wrote, Yes! Bennett. This was the answer put into my hand the same day at 135, Fleet Street. You may imagine my feelings, as I read the simple monosyllable which was my commission: bales, packages, boxes, trunks, bills, letters, flowing in a continuous stream; the writing, telegraphing, and nervous hurry and flurry of each day's work, until we sailed! Follow me in thought to the deck of the steam-ferry across the English Channel; fancy that you hear my plucky fisher-boys from the Medway, Francis and Edward Pocock, who, with Frederick Barker, were his only white companions in the expedition. All three did gallant work, and not one returned.--D. S. saying to the white cliffs of Dover, Good-bye, dear England! and if for ever, then for ever good-bye, O England! Think of us a few weeks later, arrived at Zanzibar, where we make our final preparations for the long journey we are about to make. Zanzibar is an
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