In Dr. Livingstone’s case we find some departure from the ordinary symptoms.[35] He, as we have seen by the entry of the 18th April was alive to the conviction that malarial poison is the basis of every disorder in Tropical Africa, and he did not doubt but that he was fully under its influence whilst suffering so severely.  As we have said, a man of less endurance in all probability would have perished in the first week of the terrible approach to the Lake, through the flooded country and under the continual downpour that he describes.  It tried every constitution, saturated every man with fever poison, and destroyed several, as we shall see a little further on.  The greater vitality in his iron system very likely staved off for a few days the last state of coma to which we refer, but there is quite sufficient to show us that only a thin margin lay between the heavy drowsiness of the last few days before reaching Chitambo’s and the final and usual symptom that brings on unconsciousness and inability to speak.

On more closely questioning the men one only elicits that they imagine he hoped to recover as he had so often done before, and if this really was the case it will in a measure account for the absence of anything like a dying statement, but still they speak again and again of his drowsiness, which in itself would take away all ability to realize vividly the seriousness of the situation.  It may be that at the last a flash of conviction for a moment lit up the mind—­if so, what greater consolation can those have who mourn his loss, than the account that the men give of what they saw when they entered the hut?

Livingstone had not merely turned himself, he had risento pray; he still rested on his knees, his hands were clasped under his head:  when they approached him he seemed to live.  He had not fallen to right or left when he rendered up his spirit to God.  Death required no change of limb or position; there was merely the gentle settling forwards of the frame unstrung by pain, for the Traveller’s perfect rest had come.  Will not time show that the men were scarcely wrong when they thought “he yet speaketh”—­aye, perhaps far more clearly to us than he could have done by word or pen or any other means!

Is it, then, presumptuous to think that the long-used fervent prayer of the wanderer sped forth once more—­that the constant supplication became more perfect in weakness, and that from his “loneliness” David Livingstone, with a dying effort, yet again besought Him for whom He laboured to break down the oppression and woe of the land?

* * * * *

Before daylight the men were quietly told in each hut what had happened, and that they were to assemble.  Coming together as soon as it was light enough to see, Susi and Chumah said that they wished everybody to be present whilst the boxes were opened, so that in case money or valuables were in them, all might be responsible.  Jacob Wainwright (who could write, they knew) was asked to make some notes which should serve as an inventory, and then the boxes were brought out from the hut.