Hervey 10 - Warrior

by Allan Mallinson

  How intelligent were these Zulu? Shaka, by all reports, was a warrior whose instinct for battle had forged the entire Zulu nation. Hervey could not but imagine that he would be thinking even now how to recast his army, in light of the reports of Umtata. Whatever Somervile might gain from this expedition by way of a treaty, he himself had but one object beyond the lieutenant-governor's safety: to discover how Shaka meant to fight if it came to war.

  Reliant dropped anchor. Port Natal was but a sandy bay, with only a wooden jetty, though a fair haven; and a very fair prospect. Hervey thought he had never spied so pleasant a spot – the still blue water, the breakers beyond the sand bar, the wide, white beaches shimmering in the spring sunshine; and the rolling green hills, with here and there a red scar where the earth was scraped bare by the hand of nature or those of the settlers, few that they were. It was a land well watered, fertile, rich with game. He perfectly saw why its native tenants would be jealous of any that might threaten their title, although Shaka had been generous in welcoming the white man, making a gift of the bay, indeed.

  Why, then, did Shaka wish to take the territory of the Xhosa? It was not nearly so abundant. Whence came the impulse for this difaqane, as the Xhosa called it, this crushing and scattering of every neighbouring clan and tribe? Could it really proceed from some urgent need of the Zulu for land? Or was it from something within Shaka himself? By all accounts he was no mere savage, rapacious, as any predatory beast. It seemed to Hervey that the selfmade king of the Zulu perceived the situation of a nation without natural borders – the necessity for an active policy of war rather than waiting only on the defensive – as perfectly as had Frederick the Great himself . . .

  Fairbrother, who had been observing the shore from the other side of Reliant's quarterdeck, came across to where Hervey stood, by the starboard shrouds. 'Well, Colonel Hervey, what emotion is masked by that countenance of command?'

  Hervey turned. 'I was contemplating the relative draughts of our ship and of the Severus. She went in unchecked, and yet we scraped our bottom a good minute on the sand bar – and she with a deck of twelve-pounders and all.'

  It was true that Reliant had followed exactly the course of the accompanying brig, but Fairbrother was disinclined to believe that nautical details were occupying his friend's mind at this time. Nevertheless he humoured him. 'I had half hoped that we would be grounded, for I wanted to see what the steam tug would do. She's been of no use since we set sail.'

  That was to be applauded, however, for they had had favourable airs since putting out of Cape Town. They had, in fact, made the passage in five days: a steady nine knots.

  Hervey shrugged. 'I fancy if she had grounded we could have lightened her by swimming the horses ashore, and she would have refloated of her own accord. I swam my best mare further at Madras, and that through breakers twice as big as those yonder.'

  He had expected they would have to swim them ashore here too, but the Reliant's master reckoned on getting close in – a hundred yards, he had promised. And he was as good as his word, for Reliant was now swinging round on her bow anchor, so that they would be able to get out the horses from the larboard entry port, but a stone's throw from the beach.

  The master's words of command interrupted their speculation. 'Let go!'

  The stern anchor dropped to arrest the swing.

  At once Serjeant-Major Collins began mustering the dragoons. They would land by boat to be ready to catch the troopers (he had already chosen the lead horses, those good to call, so that the more wayward animals would herd-to in the shock of finding themselves in the water).

  'A boat for yourselves, gentlemen?' asked the bosun.

  Hervey looked about for Somervile, for it was his decision. 'I don't see the lieutenant-governor, Mr Caute.'

  'I believe I saw him go to his cabin as we came in the bay, sir.'

  'Mm.' A letter to write, perhaps – a despatch for the returning tug to take. 'I myself am content to stay aboard until the horses are ashore.' There was little he could do until his own chargers were disembarked; and in any case, he wished to observe what Captain Brereton did.

  Somervile came on deck five minutes later, by which time the first of the boats was in the water and pulling for the beach. Another was pulling from the shore and making for Severus. 'Our welcoming party, I perceive,' he said, observing its white-faced occupants. 'Not unreasonable for them to suppose we are aboard the brig.'

  'Especially not as one of them wears the uniform of the service, Sir Eyre,' replied Fairbrother, his telescope lighting on a dark blue jacket. 'Mr King, I imagine.'

  Somervile looked content. 'Our expedition begins well, then.'

  Some moments of contemplating the prospect followed until Fairbrother broke silence. 'Ah, the boat is now bound for us,' he reported, seeing it striking out again from Severus.

  Somervile nodded. 'Captain Fairbrother, would you be so good as to go and receive them?'

  'Of course, Sir Eyre.' Fairbrother touched the peak of his shako to take his leave.

  'We are not, after all, in a Crown colony,' added Somervile, when he was gone. 'We do well to recollect it.'

  'Just so,' replied Hervey, wondering why Somervile supposed he needed reminding. 'Though it would be as well to discover Lieutenant King's exact situation. Is he one of His Majesty's officers still, or does he act principally in Shaka's interest?'

  'I was of a mind to discover that, certainly, but in truth I think it matters not in the end. All I require of him is that he leads us to the fellow, and tells us faithfully what he says. He might, of course, have every appearance of a King's officer and yet be in Shaka's pay.' Somervile looked grave, before adding wryly, 'Such things are not impossible.'

  They waited in silence as the boat closed to Reliant's larboard, and then the coming aboard of her party, and Fairbrother's courtesies at the entry port. In a minute or so the visitors were climbing the companionway to the quarterdeck, led by the man they supposed might just possibly be in Shaka's pay.

  Lieutenant King, in the remnant of his naval bicorn, climbed the ladder wearily. His appearance was shocking – jaundiced, fevered even. He put his feet together in front of Somervile, although he could not have recognized him, and saluted. 'Lieutenant King, sir, at your service.'

  Somervile raised his straw hat in return. 'I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir. Somervile, lieutenant-governor of the Cape.' He held out a hand, and felt the cold clamminess of King's as he took it.

  'Forgive, me, Sir Eyre; I have been unwell these late days. My liver . . .'

  'Then you must see my surgeon at once.' Somervile turned to Fairbrother.

  Fairbrother went to find him.

  'Perhaps you should sit down. Here, on the lockers.' Somervile gestured to the stern rail.

  Lieutenant King was pleased to take the seat.

  'A little brandy, perhaps? And then you might be so good as to introduce the rest of your party?'

  'Brandy would be most efficacious, Sir Eyre,' replied King, supporting himself with a hand to the locker beside him. 'May I present Mr Nathaniel Isaacs, who has been here these three years, and John Ross, my clerk.'

  The two had removed hats on coming onto the quarterdeck. Somervile returned their bows. 'Gentlemen.'

  There followed a little conversation about the anchorage and the provision for the horses, before the surgeon, and brandy, came on deck.

  The surgeon took King's pulse. 'I should wish to make a proper examination,' he said, with some asperity.

  'Of course,' replied Somervile. 'You are at liberty to take Mr King below just as soon as I have a general report as to Chief Shaka's situation.'

  The surgeon bowed, if reluctantly, and nodded to Somervile's steward to authorize a replenishment of the brandy glass.

  King took it, and it appeared to revive him, for he let go the locker lid and removed his hat to wipe his brow. 'I beg pardon, Sir Eyre. It comes and goes, the fever, though I must admit the pain is much worse this time.'

 
Somervile nodded. 'There is no cause for apology, I assure you. But, pray, are you able to say anything of Shaka that might be of help at this time – before Mr Fernyhough takes you below to his dispensary?'

  Lieutenant King coughed a little (the stimulus of the brandy, Somervile supposed). 'Shaka is presently engaged on a campaign against Soshangane, Sir Eyre, a chief whose country lies just to the south of Delagoa Bay. In the autumn he crushed the Pondo—'

  'The Pondo – to the south, you mean?'

  'Yes. Shaka had long had it in his mind to crush the Pondo. He sent his spies there in the summer, and they reported favourably. Besides subjugating the clan, Shaka declared it would serve as the mourning hunt for his mother.' He began coughing again, and had to breathe deeply for a while before resuming. 'They call it i-hlambo, and every warrior must wash his spear in blood. And for his mother, there had to be a great washing of spears.'

  Hervey shook his head.

  Somervile appeared merely to be absorbed in scholarly discovery. 'And I take it that once this "washing of spears" is done, Shaka will declare that the country shall return to its normal condition? We have heard of the depredations on his people on account of Nandi's death.'

  'I believe that was to be so. But when the army returned, with a great number of cattle, Shaka became restless again, fearing his warriors became soft, and so he ordered them to march north against Soshangane.'

  Somervile looked disappointed. 'Where is Shaka now – in the north?'

  'No, at his kraal, Dukuza, two days' ride north of here, but he's called a meeting of the elders towards the end of the month, at the his capital, Bulawayo, the same distance beyond.' He began coughing again.

  'I think, Sir Eyre . . .' tried the surgeon.

  'Yes, Mr Fernyhough, a moment or two more,' replied Somervile, testily. He turned back to King. 'I am much obliged to you, sir. We must make every effort to see Shaka before he leaves for . . .'

  'Bulawayo: "the place of killing".'

  Somervile grimaced. 'The place of killing?'

  'The Zulu regard the act quite differently from us.'

  'So I am coming to conclude, Mr King.' He nodded to the surgeon. 'But see now, you must go below and take Fernyhough's medicine, and then we may speak of Shaka's philosophy at more leisure.'

  The lieutenant rose unsteadily and replaced his hat, clasped the point in salute, and left with his companions in the surgeon's charge.

  'I hope we shall not be too long detained by his fever,' said Somervile when they were out of earshot. 'I would strike out for Dukuza the day after tomorrow, at the latest.'

  Hervey saw no reason to delay the entire party. 'Might I ride ahead, with Fairbrother, so that Shaka knows you are coming?'

  Somervile had already considered the idea. 'I imagine Shaka will know by nightfall that we have arrived, do you not suppose? Let us wait for the surgeon's art to work its beneficial effects with Mr King. Since Shaka entrusted him with the mission to Port Elizabeth, he evidently has high regard of him. The time will be well spent if we address – as you have it – our interior economy. I want to parade before the great chief of the Zulu with all the appearance of superiority.'

  The landing proceeded without mishap. Indeed, it was done with ease, and the deconfining made for a degree of skylarking by horses and men alike. Many a dragoon had not set foot on a beach before, and gave way to the pleasure of warm water and sand. It was not long before they were catching fish, climbing trees, pointing animatedly to the dolphins beyond the sandbar, taking shots at seabirds, hauling a turtle from the shallows . . .

  Content that the Rifles had the landing securely picketed, Hervey decided he too would take his pleasure. 'A bathe, Somervile?'

  'By all means,' replied his old friend, readily. 'But you will excuse me, for I must press King to a question or two more – if the surgeon hasn't dosed him too severely.'

  Hervey could not believe there would be much to have from King before the morning, whatever the surgeon's medicine, but he would not debate it.

  He turned to Fairbrother. 'Shall you take the waters?'

  It was not his habit to take exercise for the pleasure of it, but Fairbrother reckoned there was purpose in accompanying his friend. 'Very well.'

  They stripped and swam ashore.

  And as they dried themselves by one of the driftwood fires, which the dragoons lost no time making, and waited for the jolly-boat with Johnson and their clothes, Fairbrother observed the evident delight of the troop in their recreation. 'What are you thinking of ?' he asked, seeing his friend in thought.

  Hervey smiled. 'That it would indeed be pleasing to remain here for several days. Such a pity that Shaka is to leave his kraal, and that we therefore have to make haste.'

  Fairbrother looked at him quizzically. 'Remain here for a mere several days – not more?'

  'Ha! If we were not engaged upon official business, I believe I could pass many a happy week here – months, even. I hazard there'd be no shortage of volunteers from the troop for outpost duty. Or even to have their discharge. See how agreeable they find it!'

  Fairbrother smiled, ironically. 'Just so. Happy colonists. And have you thought: Shaka may come to that same conclusion?'

  XIII

  METTLE ENOUGH

  Next morning

  The surgeon came onto Reliant's quarterdeck a little after six, and with a weary look. 'I regret to inform you, Sir Eyre, that Lieutenant King is dead.'

  Somervile sighed heavily.

  Hervey put his coffee cup aside. 'Not of any contagion, I trust, doctor?'

  The surgeon shook his head. 'I cannot be certain, but I believe it to be poisoning of the liver. Not any contagion, however. Nothing that need dismay.'

  Somervile huffed. 'Except that King was to be our interlocutor with Shaka!'

  'Isaacs speaks his language as well as did King, so I understand,' said Hervey, encouragingly.

  'Isaacs? A rough sort by the look of him. Not the man I would choose to engage for diplomacy.'

  Hervey bridled, rather, at the harsh judgement. His old friend had invested a great deal in this venture, his reputation, indeed; but all the same . . . 'Rough and ready, Somervile.'

  'If I might add, Sir Eyre,' tried Fairbrother, who had likewise laid aside his breakfast cup: 'Isaacs may yet be a more faithful interpreter, for he does not enjoy Shaka's confidence in the way King did, and therefore will be obliged to render the translation without, shall we say, his own estimation.'

  Hervey said nothing, but he agreed with him. And besides, the principal means of gathering the intelligence that he required would be from observation.

  Somervile began nodding, slowly. 'Thank you, Fairbrother. I'm obliged.' He thought for a moment or two more. 'We have, in any case, no option but to proceed.'

  Lieutenant King's body was sewn into a hammock. Somervile instructed that it be transferred to the brig, HMS Severus, and thence taken for burial at sea, beyond the bar, following the traditions of the service. At the last minute, however, the lieutenant's native servant had sought out Fairbrother and told him of his master's most particular request, that if he were to die in this place he should be buried on the bluff overlooking the anchorage. And so, a little after seven, a party of seamen took the body ashore, and Hottentot bearers dug the grave.

  In the absence of a chaplain, Hervey read the service.

  Afterwards, he and Fairbrother walked down from the bluff together.

  'It marks well what we spoke of last night, does it not?' said his friend, the sun now strong enough to oblige them both to replace their hats. 'This is a country in which a man might happily put down roots.'

  It was just that, Hervey conceded. And he was happy to acknowledge its bounties. But he confessed that his thoughts were with the more practical details of the days ahead. He had urged Somervile to discount too great a setback in losing King's good offices with Shaka, but there was first the question of seeking Shaka out. Isaacs had assured them that he knew the way to Dukuza: it was but a trek
, as the Cape Dutch had it, north for a day and a half, perhaps two, following the coast. But without King, Hervey was uncertain how they would make their entry. Would Shaka receive them, indeed? But Isaacs had been confident in proposing himself, albeit in some dejection at the loss of his friend. Shaka, said Isaacs, had told them that he had moved his kraal to Dukuza from Bulawayo to be nearer his English friends – friends, not merely Lieutenant King. And although Isaacs did not have King's rank, and therefore quite Shaka's esteem, he assured Hervey he would be received as an honest man of trade.

  A little after nine o'clock, the embassy to the Court of Shaka left Port Natal for Dukuza. Welsh, the Rifles' captain, had enlisted half a dozen voerlopers from the settlement, native and part-native men of whom Isaacs spoke well, to range ahead and read the country.