‘I’ll stay for a bit, if that’s all right with you?’ Cameron was clearly bothered by Will’s injury.
‘As you wish, though I can’t offer you a bed. It’s been a madhouse here since that brief armistice yesterday afternoon. Anyway, tell me what happened.’
‘We came under fire near Pieter’s Hill. Didn’t see the blighters. Damn it, Will wasn’t even supposed to be there. The silly sod hung back to try and spot them. I turned just as he was hit. He passed out when I tried to lift him. I thought he was gone.’
‘You were lucky, both of you.’
‘Yes, I know. Will worries me. He’s like my shadow. It’s as if he feels an obligation to keep me safe.’
‘Maybe he does.’
Cameron sank into a canvas chair and rubbed a grimy hand over the top of his head. ‘Why? He owes me nothing.’
‘Perhaps the debt is to your father?’
Cam went on as if Lindsay’s comment hadn’t registered. ‘What with Will watching my back and me looking out for him it’s dangerous for both of us. We should be taking care of ourselves, not each other.’
A groan from the operating table stilled their conversation. ‘That you, Cam? You all right, boy?’
Cameron got quickly to his feet. ‘Yes, Will, I’m fine.’
His sigh sounded heavy with relief. ‘Good.’
‘And so are you, madala.’
‘Who’s an old man? Stop fussing, will you?’
Cameron actually smiled. ‘Only if you do.’
Will grinned up at him.
‘I don’t suppose either of you is interested in my news?’ Lindsay had decided it was time to distract them.
Two sets of eyes turned to him in obvious surprise. Lindsay was known to offer information only when asked.
‘Ellie has asked me to marry her.’ He couldn’t hide the pride in his voice.
Will propped himself up on his good elbow. ‘Why not the other way round?’
‘She didn’t give me time.’
‘Rubbish.’ Will sank down again. ‘You’ve had plenty of that.’
‘True. Don’t think I haven’t tried. She always said no.’
‘And what did you say?’
Lindsay smiled and yawned. ‘I said yes.’
‘Excellent.’ Cameron extended his hand in congratulations. ‘I don’t care who asked. You were meant to be together. Mother and Father will be delighted.’
‘Thank you, ’Lindsay said. ‘You two are the first to know.’
‘When’s the big day then?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Ellie fell asleep right after I accepted.’
All three were still laughing when the Indian orderly returned with two stretcher-bearers and proudly announced that he had managed to find a bed for the patient. Cameron, noticing Lindsay trying to stifle another yawn, left with them, promising to return to see his sister in the morning.
The following day, word came through of Lord Roberts’s success at Paardeberg. Inside the town, Sir George White saw no reason to celebrate. Instead, he cut the defenders’ already meagre bread ration by half.
The significance of Majuba Day was not lost on Buller’s men and they redoubled their efforts to take revenge. Tactics learned the hard way had already paid off, securing two hills – Cingolo and Monte Cristo. The Boers still held Pieter’s, Railway and Hart’s but by coordinating artillery and infantry attacks it was only a question of time before they too were won.
Hart’s and Railway fell first, the latter taken by Lord Kitchener’s younger brother, Walter. By nightfall only one end of Pieter’s remained in enemy hands. Come the dawn its defenders had disappeared.
On 28 February, after one hundred and eighteen days of siege, the garrison in Ladysmith could see a column of wagons and men wending their way north. The Boers were in retreat, already out of artillery range. White’s two naval guns managed one farewell salvo before a summer thunderstorm closed in to cover Louis Botha’s escape. The garrison had no cavalry horses to give chase (they had eaten most of them) and Buller’s troops were too exhausted to pursue the departing enemy on foot.
Ladysmith was a scene of jubilation as Cameron listened to a frail and stooped Sir George White praise those who had been through so much. ‘Thank God we kept the flag flying, ’ he said, talking more to Ladysmith’s defenders than those who had come to their rescue. ‘It cut me to the heart to reduce your rations as I did.’ Faltering, he went on, ‘I promise you, though, that I’ll never do it again.’ His words were met with laughter, cheers and applause.
The next day Cameron went with a column sent out in pursuit of the Boers. They reached Modder Spruit station only to discover that Botha must have had trains waiting to evacuate his men and their equipment. They were too late to stop them.
Buller made a formal entry into Ladysmith on 3 March, bringing with him much-needed food and medical supplies. It was his moment of triumph. Lord Roberts, Chamberlain and even Queen Victoria sent telegrams of congratulations. In gratitude, he praised his long-suffering troops, paying tribute to their tenacity with the award of a Special Army Order. Buller was fortunate that he remained popular with his men. Aside from the backslapping and congratulations there were officers on his staff – Sir George White included – who had been quick to make known their lack of confidence in his leadership.
‘He’ll survive, ’ Winston predicted as he and Cameron enjoyed cigars and Cognac after an unexpectedly excellent dinner at staff headquarters. ‘This may be a twenty-acre patch of tin houses and bluegums but it’s famous to the uttermost ends of the earth.’
‘And Sir George?’ Cameron queried. ‘Roberts must know how invisible he became during the siege.’
‘Now there you have a point. Bobs’s friend he may be but I do believe High Command are unlikely to offer the man another posting.’
The following day Sir George White succumbed to a fever. It was the excuse needed to have him invalided back to Britain.
SIXTEEN
‘It was a long time ago, ’ her favourite patient said, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. ‘I can’t have been much older than you are now.’
‘I’m eighteen, ’Meggie lied, then thought better of it. ‘Nearly.’
He didn’t seem to hear. ‘Life was just waiting to be lived. Everybody expected me to join the business but I wanted to do something for myself. Young John and William have done well, though.’
Meggie had no interest in the other members of Stan King’s family so didn’t seek to find out more.
‘Before they joined the firm, John senior had given me a much-used muzzle-loading 8-bore made by Isaac Hollis in Birmingham. We’re all from Birmingham, you see.’
Meggie didn’t.
‘It was the best twenty-first present a young lad could have had. My only problem was where to shoot it.’
‘What’s an 8-bore?’ Meggie asked. ‘Is it very big?’
‘Size isn’t everything but it’s big enough to knock down an elephant. Eight balls of pure lead having the same bore as the barrel make up one pound in weight.’
‘I see. So the two 4-bores that Mister Selous uses must be massive.’
‘Quite so and very heavy. Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six pounds apiece.’
‘Father has hunted elephants, you know. I wasn’t even born then. He doesn’t like talking about it, though.’
‘In those days there were elephants in Zululand. By the late seventies they’d all gone. Finding good ivory in any quantity meant going to Bechuanaland.’
‘But that’s all desert.’
‘Most of it is but once you get north of the Kalahari there are Mophane forests stretching for hundreds of miles, up to the Zambezi and beyond.’
‘So you went there?’
‘Not right away. Old John was like the father I never had. He took me under his wing. I remember him saying, “Just because somebody gives you a horse doesn’t mean you know how to handle the thing or what to feed it.
The same goes for guns”.’
Meggie had grown up with guns so she’d never thought about people not knowing what to do with them. If she’d come out from some city in England it would probably have been different.
‘He showed me how to cast bullets, adding just the right amount of tin to harden the lead. Temperature is important too. You must heat the mould before using it if you’re going to turn out blemish-free balls.’
Meggie mentioned reading in one of Roualeyn Gordon Cumming’s books, The Lion Hunter in South Africa, how he ran out of tin on one of his expeditions and ended up melting down pewter plates and mugs.
‘It works but that mad Scotsman’s story says to me that either he wasn’t recovering the bullets from what he shot or the man missed more than he hit.’
‘Probably the latter, according to Father.’
Stan nodded and glanced at the girl sitting beside his bed. The clinical uniform did nothing to detract from her beauty. Dark curly hair framed a face that was a little pale, though that only emphasised the twin pools of her black eyes that stared confidently back at him. She smiled and her button nose seemed to turn up even more. ‘Do go on.’
‘Where was I? Oh yes.’ Stan shook his head as if that would make some sense of the fact that he was actually enjoying talking to this girl. He who never needed the company of others was being taken out of himself by a woman half his age. Come to think of it, she looked a lot like her father.
‘With a bag full of balls – about fifty had passed muster and I was getting better at casting them – we set off for the Bluff and my next lesson.’
‘And you still hadn’t fired a shot?’
‘No. I’d cut patches and poured a few tweasles. That was all.’
‘Tweasles? What on earth are they?’
‘That’s what John called the twisted paper packets of powder which we made up at the shop.’
‘Never heard them being called that before.’
‘The ocean was very calm, as I remember. John bit the top off a tweasle and poured its contents down the barrel. At least, I thought he did. After putting a patch over the muzzle he placed a ball on top of it and used the ramrod to push them both as far into the barrel as they would go. “See the brass tip?” he asked.“ Wouldn’t do to have sparks in there, now would it?” With that he handed me the rifle.’
‘What about the percussion cap?’
‘Last thing. Always the last thing. I was quite nervous, easing back the hammer and placing a primer on the nipple.“ Aim for the horizon, ”John advised as I held the rifle and looked out over an empty ocean. It was not a moment to be fainthearted. Putting the butt to my shoulder I hung on as tightly as I could and pulled the trigger.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing. The primer went off but that was all. Load your own gun – that was his lesson.’
‘Sometimes it’s not possible.’
‘You’re thinking about Mister David loading for your father. Yes. There are times when you have to rely on somebody else. Then your life is in their hands.’
‘In that situation it applies the other way round as well.’
‘Indeed it does.’
‘So you had to pull the ball out with that worm thing and reload before firing your first shot?’
‘Correct, and this time I did it all myself. By the end of that afternoon my shoulder was black and blue.’
A bit like when you first arrived here, Meggie thought to herself.
‘Once I’d fired a few normal loads John had me double the charge. Black powder pushes you, it’s not the sharp kick you’d get from a horse. Spun me round nevertheless. “That’s going to happen too”, was all he said.’
‘At least he warned you.’
‘Sadistic old sod that he was.’
‘Could you see where the shots were landing?’
‘No. Too much smoke.’
‘I suppose you had quite an audience by then?’
‘Of course. They wanted us to come and shoot a hippo in the harbour – for its meat. John refused and decided that was enough for one day. Back at the shop he had me scrub out the barrel with boiling water and wipe the gun down with pig fat to stop it rusting. Guns don’t like life on the coast. It’s different inland.’
‘To be continued, ’ Meggie said, rising to her feet. ‘Mother worries if I’m not home before dark and my shift finished hours ago.’
‘Then tsamaya sentle, as they say in Bechuanaland. Go carefully. I’ve enjoyed this afternoon, Meggie. Thank you for listening to my ramblings.’
‘I’ve enjoyed it too. Sala kahle, Mister King, and sleep well.’
Having decided that she and Lindsay should marry, Ellie had no intention of delaying matters until the war ended and so running the risk of one or both of them being killed before the wedding had taken place. That was her story at least – it was not as if a simple piece of paper would make any difference to their lives.
Lindsay had to admit that he rather liked the idea. ‘What about family?’ he said when Ellie unexpectedly raised the subject. ‘Your parents would want to be here, I’m sure.’
‘As would yours, so it’s better we tell nobody. Besides, my darling, I’ve no idea where Father and Duncan are. Mother can host a reception at Morningside when the war’s over.’
‘Who would give you away?’
‘Cameron, with Will acting as witness.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Oh, and I’d like Winston to be there. Did you know that he’s taken leave from the Light Horse and intends joining Lord Roberts in the Free State? We may never see him again.’
‘If the “little man” will have him. Word is that Roberts has refused his application.’
‘Only because of the Morning Post article he wrote after Spion Kop.’
‘The one questioning the role of army chaplains?’
‘That as well as advocating a spirit of forgiveness towards the Boers in Natal. Let’s not forget, though, Lord Roberts and Winston’s late father were close friends. Pound to a penny the whole thing blows over. Winston just wants to be where the action is.’
‘Is that the way he’ll see our wedding?’
She laughed, punching him on the arm. ‘Don’t be silly, Lindsay. If you want a reason it’s because he’s related to Cecily. You know how important she and Stephen are to me. Anyway, I like the man. He gets things done. Do you mind?’
‘Not at all, my darling, not at all.’
Ellie and Lindsay were married in the Ladysmith courthouse at eleven o’clock on the morning of 6 March 1900. ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.’
Lindsay had waited so long to hear those words. He took her in his arms. ‘I love you, Missus Mayer.’
Cameron stepped forwards, congratulating his new brother-in-law before giving Ellie a huge hug. Will, one arm still in a sling, used the other to wipe tears from his eyes. ‘Not before time, if you ask me!’
Winston signed the register as witness. At no time did he or the Church of England army chaplain say one word to each other.
Boer komandos held a twenty-five mile line of kopjes along the Modder River but Lord Roberts was not yet ready to continue his advance from Paardeberg. Piet Cronje, the Boer general who had surrendered there, had been sent with his wife as prisoners of war to the remote Atlantic Ocean island of St Helena.
The Fairfax Scouts were reporting an estimated six thousand burghers– led by Christiaan de Wet – massed at a place called Poplar Grove. French’s cavalry had been given the task of outflanking the main Boer force and preventing it from falling back to assist with the defence of Bloemfontein. What nobody had discovered was that the Transvaal’s charismatic President Kruger was also there, urging, encouraging, stirring Afrikaner patriotism and promising the helping hand of God for his chosen volk. A distinct lack of urgency seemed to have pervaded the British ranks and a feeling was growing that the war was all but over. It was probably this lethargy that allowed de Wet and Kruger
to evade capture.
At long last Bobs continued his advance on Bloemfontein. French fought one bloody encounter with de la Rey at Driefontein before the Boers melted away, evacuating the Free State capital and falling back on Kroonstad. Lord Roberts’s main force occupied the city on 13 March, swelling its population from four thousand to nearly ten times that number and placing a severe strain on available services – in particular the water supply. Not realising how grave the situation would soon become, Lord Roberts anticipated an early end to the war and offered an amnesty to any Boers– other than their leaders– willing to hand in weapons, sign an oath of neutrality and return home. Six thousand did, though most of the guns surrendered were old. More modern Mausers had been buried or kept by those determined to fight on.
Sir Alfred Milner, Governor of the Cape Colony and British High Commissioner for South Africa, arrived in Bloemfontein suggesting further concessions in an attempt to end the war. What he feared most was that the Transvaal Boers would dynamite the Reef goldmines, destroying a significant part of Britain’s real reason for taking on Kruger and Steyn in the first place.
Winston Churchill did join his late father’s old friend and found himself attached, if briefly, to Lord Brabazon’s much-maligned Imperial Yeomanry – recruited volunteers despised as amateurs by many regular officers and men. Their record of success certainly did nothing to justify such slander. Later Churchill would ride with French’s cavalry.
The early autumn night was pleasantly cool. ‘At least Cronje is out of the way, ’Fairy said as he and Dallas enjoyed what had become their usual after-dinner smoke.
‘Dinuzulu was held on that island for nine years, ’Dallas responded, his thoughts turning to others who had suffered the same fate. ‘Napoleon died there.’
‘Yet the powers that be brought Dinuzulu back in ninety-eight and had him reinstated as fifth King of the Zulus.’
‘True. But only because Britain thought it would help to stabilise their growing problems in Zululand. They gave the king an education, taught him to read, write and play the piano, then allowed the poor man no power and paid him five hundred pounds a year as an advisor to the government. What kind of king is that? Remember, Zululand was annexed to Natal in the previous year. Allocations of farmland for settlement by Europeans had reduced traditional areas to thirty percent of what they once were. From ninety-five to ninety-seven the Zulus faced three years of locust plagues and their cattle were decimated by rinderpest. Then the rains failed. Few could even afford the lobola to buy a bride.’
Footprints of Lion Page 22
