Gratuitous interference with
what I considered my own especial business; but I restrained
myself, though I told them, in a loud voice, that I did not choose
to be interfered with, unless they wished to quarrel with me.
"No, no, bana," they all exclaimed; "we do not wish to quarrel
with you. In the name of God! go on your way in peace."
"Fare you well, then," said I, shaking hands with them.
"Farewell, master, farewell. We wish you, we are sure, all
success, and God be with you, and guide you!"
"March!"
A parting salute was fired; the flags were raised up by the
guides, each pagazi rushed for his load, and in a short time,
with songs and shouts, the head of the Expedition had filed
round the western end of my tembe along the road to Ugunda.
"Now, Mr. Shaw, I am waiting, sir. Mount your donkey, if you
cannot walk."
"Please, Mr. Stanley, I am afraid I cannot go."
Why?"
"I don't know, I am sure. I feel very weak."
"So am I weak. It was but late last night, as you know, that the
fever left me. Don't back out before these Arabs; remember you
are a white man. Here, Selim, Mabruki, Bombay, help Mr. Shaw on
his donkey, and walk by him."
"Oh, bana, bans," said the Arabs, "don't take him. Do you not see
he is sick? "
" You keep away; nothing will prevent me from taking him. He
shall go."
"Go on, Bombay."
The last of my party had gone. The tembe, so lately a busy
scene, had already assumed a naked, desolate appearance.
I turned towards the Arabs, lifted my hat, and said again,
"Farewell," then faced about for the south, followed by my
four young gun-bearers, Selim, Kalulu, Majwara, and Belali.
After half an hour's march the scenery became more animated.
Shaw began to be amused. Bombay had forgotten our quarrel,
and assured me, if I could pass Mirambo's country, I should
"catch the Tanganika;" Mabruki Burton also believed we should.
Selim was glad to leave Unyanyembe, where he had suffered so much
from fever; and there was a something in the bold aspect of the
hills which cropped upward - above fair valleys, that enlivened
and encouraged me to proceed.
In an hour and a half, we arrived at our camp in the Kinyamwezi
village of Mkwenkwe, the birthplace - of our famous chanter Maganga.
My tent was pitched, the goods were stored in one of the tembes;
but one-half the men had returned to Kwihara, to take one more
embrace of their wives and concubines.
Towards night I was attacked once again with the intermittent
fever. Before morning it had departed, leaving me terribly
prostrated with weakness. I had heard the men conversing with each
other over their camp-fires upon the probable prospects of the next
day.
