The Diamond Frontier (Simon Fonthill Series)

by John Wilcox

Jenkins’s eyebrows nearly met his moustache. ‘But ’ow do we get out of ’ere, then? What about the ’orses?’

  ‘Remember what the General said. They will take all the horses with them if a party is cut off. So we will just have to do without them - unless we can steal some from the town itself.’ Simon’s mind raced. ‘No. Impossible. There’s no way we could disguise ourselves long enough to get through to their horse lines, even at night. We’ll just have to walk. Come on, let’s try to get to the northern end of the valley, where we were yesterday. They won’t expect to find us there.’

  ‘Oh lord lumme,’ exclaimed Jenkins. ‘That’s marchin’ away from ’ome, look you; even I know that.’ But Simon had turned his back and was making his way northwards, away from the trail down to the town. Jenkins sighed and directed his beaming smile at Ophrus. ‘Ah well, Offeous old sport,’ he said. ‘We’re in for a bit of a stroll. An’ you without a pair of boots to yer name. Shame that is, indeed it is.’

  But the Ndebele was in no mood to smile back. His face was a lugubrious picture of anxiety as he followed the two white men down the mountainside, rifle at the ready. They strode and scrambled for two hours, always on the alert, until they had descended to about a hundred feet above the valley floor. There they stopped, well within the tree and scrub line, and saw that they had left the capital well behind them and were heading towards where the valley widened again and the northern end of the mountain range curved around to the east. Here, they sat together and Simon squinted up at the sky through the low foliage.

  ‘It’s about two hours before dusk,’ he said. ‘We will rest here until then, and we can break out into the open and make for the Oliphant under cover of night.’

  ‘We goin’ to walk all the way back to the fort, baas?’ enquired Ophrus, his face a picture of apprehension.

  Simon answered with a confidence he did not feel. ‘We certainly are, Ophrus, but only at night. We will rest up during the day. There should be enough cover all the way along the river bank to hide us during daylight. We will take a wide loop and follow the Oliphant down until we are roughly level with Fort Weeber, then we will strike east across the veldt to the fort. We should be safe that far south.’

  ‘Do you think they will come lookin’ for us?’ asked Jenkins.

  Simon wrinkled his nose. ‘Perhaps. But I am banking that they won’t know how many were in our party and that they will be more worried about the others that got away - as I am sure they did, because they were so much nearer to the horses than us. My guess is that they will go back to the citadel and pull up the drawbridge, so to speak, in preparation for Wolseley’s attack.’

  ‘What about that rifle shot, then?’

  ‘Indeed. Actually, I am not all that sure it even came from a rifle. I just don’t know. Maybe one of Covington’s party stumbled upon a guard, or it could have been an accident if it was a rifle. The Martini-Henrys have been known to go off when there’s a round up the snout. Anyway, we can find out from Ntanga when we get back.’

  ‘Ah yes. When we get back. How long will that take, d’you reckon?’

  Simon blew out his cheeks. ‘Well, we’re all fit, and a bit of marching won’t kill us. I’d say we’d have about eighty to ninety miles to cover, going the long way, as we must. Say perhaps a week.’

  ‘A week! What are we goin’ to eat? I’ve got a few biscuits an’ a bit of that dried meat rubbish. But that’s not goin’ to get us far, is it?’

  ‘It’s roughly what the Boers had when they set off on their Great Trek. We shall have to be careful, of course, but once out of gunshot we should be able to get a rabbit or two, or trout from the Oliphant. And there will be water from the river. We shall live like lords. Come on now. Try and get an hour or two of sleep before we start the long march. I’ll stand watch.’

  Ophrus was soon asleep, happy to have no responsibility, and Jenkins, with his knack of being able to sleep whenever an opportunity occurred, was soon stretched out also. Simon was content to be alone with his thoughts as he leaned against a low tree, his rifle across his knees. They were in danger, there was no doubt about that. Without horses they could not run from attackers, and it would be a long, arduous trek back across the veldt, with little cover if a bePedi party did catch up with them. Travelling by night would have its own dangers because it would be difficult to take compass bearings and their progress would be slow, particularly if the rains returned. And yet his heart sang.

  The pattern of existence that he and Jenkins had followed for the last three years had been lived right on the edge, and danger had been such a constant companion that he, at last, had come to accept it almost as an old friend (Jenkins, of course, had rubbed along with it since boyhood). The frisson so provided was now an essential part of life; the spice that gave a taste to this otherwise hard existence and which had long since replaced his old fear of cowardice, of being thought afraid. He still had his moments of fear, but they now seemed normal, something which sharpened the senses and made him more combative. But more important than all of that - much more important: Alice loved him! He smiled at the recent memory of her kisses and hugged to himself the recollection of her warm, ardent admission. With Alice in his heart - a loving, receptive Alice - there was nothing that he could not do. There was a spring in his step, then, as, with the sky darkening, he woke his companions and they set off on the long march back to Fort Weeber.

  For all its hardship, it proved to be an uneventful journey. They found the muddy, hard-flowing Oliphant that same night and set off to follow its course south. Camping during the day under the low willows by its banks, they travelled by night, sometimes trudging on a compass bearing when the river looped too far away from their desired course and rejoining it in time to sleep. The nocturnal pattern of the journey suited them anyway because they had no blankets or sleeping bags and the nights were incredibly cold. So they put their heads down and marched sturdily by starlight, slapping their arms to their sides to create some warmth. After the second night, away from the Lulus, they were able to light fires to cook the trout which Jenkins, with skills learned in the very different gin-clear waters of Wales, was able to catch with his hands. They also shot a couple of small veldt bucks and ate meat which lasted for two days. The waters of the Oliphant were discoloured but drinkable and the air was clear and fresh. Although clouds rumbled threateningly, there were only small showers. Not once did they see another living soul on that vast plain until, having left the Oliphant on the sixth day, they trudged to the east and, in the heat of midday, encountered a picket of Colonial Horse and, the subject of great curiosity, were taken into Fort Weeber.

  It was a different tented town from that which they had left a week and a half before. An air of bustle and urgency now characterised the place: all of the non-essential servicing tents were being struck, waggons loaded and cannons hitched to teams of horses. Bell tents stretched out across the veldt, and between them pyramids of rifles were leaning, ready to be snatched at a bugle call. It was clear that Wolseley had at last been able to bring his disjointed force together and that the attack on Sekukuni was about to be launched.

  Simon and Jenkins exchanged handshakes with Ophrus and then left to find General Wolseley. Their welcome in the Commander-in-Chief’s tent this time was much warmer than that which they had received nine days before. Wolseley sprang from his chair and shook them both by the hand. His gaze was direct, as always, but the smile was, perhaps, a little too wide and betrayed a touch of embarrassment.

  ‘Welcome back, both of you,’ he said. ‘Never doubted for a moment that you would make it, but I am relieved to see you both back, I must stay. Sorry we had to leave you, but there were too many of those Kaffirs for us to have held them off until your return. But, as I say, I knew you would make it. Now tell me how you got back.’

  He gestured to them to sit, and briefly and matter-offactly Simon told their story. At the end he reached into his pocket and handed Wolseley a piece of paper.

  ‘Eh? What’s
this then?’

  ‘It’s my sketch of the Fighting Kopje, sir,’ explained Simon. ‘I thought you wanted it.’

  ‘Ah, yes, of course. Hmm. Very useful. I will study it later. Most useful, I should think, although I have, of course, made my plans for attack and given out my order of battle.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ Simon felt Jenkins stir at his side. ‘Can you tell us who fired the shot that alerted the bePedi to our presence on the mountain?’

  ‘What? Ah.’ This time the embarrassment on Wolseley’s face was unmistakable. ‘Very unfortunate, that. It was . . . er . . . Colonel Covington, as a matter of fact. I understand that he tripped on the mountainside and involuntarily discharged his revolver. It was very careless of him and, I must say, most unlike him. However, it had no serious repercussions, for he had completed most of his notes and so had I. My preparations were not affected.’

  ‘Just a pity about us then, eh, General?’ Simon’s tone was impersonally cold and Jenkins’s snort was quite audible.

  ‘What?’ Wolseley rose and leaned across the table, frowning, his chin thrust forward. ‘That is quite unworthy of you, Fonthill. As I explained, we had no option but to ride away. The preparations for this battle could not be endangered. Let me make it perfectly clear that I will not tolerate either of you casting aspersions upon the character of a senior officer on my staff. I shall take action immediately if I receive any such reports. Is that quite clear?’

  The two also rose to their feet, but Simon let a silence hang for a moment in the tent before replying. ‘Oh, quite clear, General, thank you.’

  ‘Very well.’ The frown remained on Wolseley’s face but his tone lightened somewhat. ‘Now, you did very good work in helping me to prepare my plan of attack, and I am grateful. I shall see that this is mentioned in my dispatches back to the Horse Guards. Now, you look as though you could both do with a good meal and some sleep. Tell the Quartermaster that I wish you to be well looked after.’ His smile returned. ‘He will be rather busy, because we march out tomorrow. I am following your advice, Fonthill, and attacking over the mountain with the Swazis to hit the rear of the town, so to speak, from above, while I make a frontal attack with my white troops and artillery down the valley from the north. Both columns set out tomorrow. I originally asked you to accompany the attack, but your preparatory scouting has been so successful that I will not need you to come with us. Your duties as scouts are finished and I wish you a well-earned rest. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do . . .’

  Simon stiffened. ‘Actually, General, we are both quite fit, despite our long trek, and would wish to go forward with the troops. I believe that we could be useful to you in the attack.’

  Wolseley’s eyebrows rose. ‘Well, I am not so sure about that. But I . . . ah . . . admire your spirit and would be happy to have you with me.’ He thought for a moment. ‘But, Fonthill, I do not wish you to accompany Colonel Covington’s column. You will be attached to my headquarters. Is that clear?’

  ‘Quite clear, sir, thank you.’

  Jenkins spoke for the first time. ‘As a matter of fact, General bach,’ he said in happy, conversational tones, ‘we wouldn’t want to be within pistol shot of the Colonel, if that’s all the same to you, sir.’ And he bestowed one of his face-splitting grins on the General.

  ‘Eh?’ Wolseley looked as though he was about to administer a rebuke and then thought better of it. ‘Very well. We march at dawn. Good morning, er, gentlemen.’

  Once outside, Jenkins blew out his cheeks. ‘There you go, then, bach sir. What did I tell you? The bastard fired his popgun deliberately to leave us stranded, isn’t it? He knew we were furthest away and wouldn’t be able to get back. He left us for dead, as sure as God made little green apples.’

  Simon frowned, staring away into the distance but seeing nothing. ‘The man’s a bastard, that’s certain,’ he said eventually, ‘but I can’t bring myself to believe that he would do that deliberately. He’s a senior British officer, as Wolseley said, and they just don’t do that sort of thing. It must have been an accident.’

  ‘Saving your presence, bach sir, accident my arse. He ’ates you, and despite my charm, like, he doesn’t think much o’ me. Now, where do you think old Mendoozi will be in that ’eathen place?’

  ‘Well, we know which hut he was using, but he won’t be there. If he’s got any guts - and, in fairness, he probably has - he will be in the firing line somewhere, so we will just have to look for him.’

  ‘That we will, sir. That we will.’

  The pair, bedraggled, dirty and dust-covered from their days and nights on the veldt, set off to find the Quartermaster. They learned that, predictably, their original tent had long since been dismantled, but they were allocated another, told where their horses were in the cavalry lines and given chits to eat with the infantrymen of the 21st Foot. It was quite clear from the Quartermaster’s disapproving glance at Simon’s appearance that he did not consider him a gentleman and worthy to eat in the officers’ mess. But that caused Simon no concern, and, once installed in their tent and reunited with their modest belongings, the two men set off to visit Nandi.

  She was still in the sick bay, but was now sitting on a camp stool at her bedside, and it was clear that she had made great progress, for her hair had regained some of its black sheen and her face and body had filled out in response to what had obviously been a healthy and regular diet. Her smile when she saw them was ingenuously warm, and she jumped to her feet and embraced each of them.

  ‘Oh, I am so glad to see you back safely,’ she said. ‘I heard that you had gone missing and I have been so worried.’ Tears now trickled down her cheeks. ‘But I am happy again now.’

  ‘Oh sit down, lass,’ said Jenkins. ‘You’ll wear yourself out, jumpin’ up like that.’ He ushered her back to her chair and he and Simon sat on the bed, rather self-consciously.

  ‘There was no need to worry about us, you know,’ said Simon. ‘You must know that bad pennies always turn up again.’

  Nandi frowned, child-like. ‘What do you mean, bad pennies . . . ?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. It’s just a silly expression I remember from my school days. Now, tell us. How are you?’

  She smiled again. ‘Oh, I am much better, Simon, thank you. The doctor with the red hair has been, what shall I say. . .’ She giggled. ‘Very attentive.’

  ‘I bet ’e ’as,’ growled Jenkins.

  ‘But, listen, best of all - Alice’s man in Pretoria has been able to find my father, and he is on his way here!’ She clapped her hands like a schoolgirl. ‘Now what do you think of that?’

  ‘Splendid, my dear,’ acknowledged Simon.

  Jenkins smiled politely, but not with his eyes. ‘What . . . er . . . will you do then, lass?’ he asked. ‘After you and your da ’ave sort of got together, like, after all this time?’

  Nandi’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I have not thought of that, you know. I expect we will go back to Zululand.’ Then a happy thought struck her and the smile returned. ‘Now that you have given us those . . .’ her voice dropped, ‘those things - you know?’

  They both nodded.

  ‘Papa should be able to buy more land and we can have a proper farm again - like we used to before the awful war. You know,’ she continued, her face wearing that familiar earnest expression, ‘I am - we are - so very grateful to you both. I would have died without you, and perhaps Papa would have also. We owe you everything.’ And she reached out and took a hand in each of hers.

  Simon coughed to break the silence. ‘I will . . . er . . . leave you two, if you don’t mind,’ he said, standing. ‘I must . . . er . . . find someone.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Nandi, lowering her eyes. ‘She has been to see me every day, even though I know she has been so busy with her writing and all. She is in the press lines, Simon, on the left, not very far from here.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Thank you. See you at the tent in half an hour, 352.’

  It was not diff
icult to find Alice because, in reality, she found him. He was walking along the lines, looking for the press enclosure, when she burst out of it and ran towards him, dressed in crisp cream shirt, jodhpurs and riding boots, her hair tied back, her face radiant with joy - the very reincarnation, he thought, of an English spring day out here on the barren veldt of South Africa. She was running, but, realising the impropriety of that, she stopped and walked solemnly towards him, smiling.

  They met but could not, of course, embrace. Instead she took his arm and walked him back companionably to her tent. ‘The word has spread already. I heard that you had somehow walked back to the fort, seventy-five miles through bePedi country,’ she whispered. ‘You are so magnificent, Mr Fonthill. There is no other word for it.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that. Bloody lucky would be more appropriate, I would have thought.’

  ‘No. No. When I heard that you had been left behind I just did not know what to do. My love, I was so worried. But then I felt better when Ralph said that you would be all right—’

  ‘He said what?’

  ‘Oh.’ Alice lowered her eyes. ‘I had to ask him where you were, of course, when the General’s party returned alone. He explained that the reconnaissance had been interrupted and that most of the party had been forced to flee, leaving you behind. However, he assured me that you were far away from the attack, well hidden, and that the General and everyone else were sure that you would find your way back.’

  ‘Really? Without horses?’

  ‘What? Ah, I see you are upset.’ They had reached the group of tents marked ‘Press Enclosure: No Admittance’. ‘Come into the tent and tell me about it. You sound bitter, my love.’

  The press enclosure seemed deserted, and they entered Alice’s tent and immediately embraced. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ said Alice, gently pulling away. ‘Now I know that you are back. Come. Sit down and tell me the story.’