Not so many miles from the Portuguese camp, Will Green poked at his fire with a stick and tried to think. He had just learned all that had happened since before dawn that morning.
Not long after leaving Cameron and Henry, Eli had heard what sounded like three shots. He shrugged and continued north for perhaps an hour before realising that his father would want to know what had happened. There was no option but to go back.
Something had died. The vultures told him that. The two bodies had been partly devoured but Eli could see that only one had been shot. Both were white and neither was the one called Cameron. Looking around he found his father’s ‘Cape’ gun and realised the damage it must have done to whoever fired it. What he did not know was whether that person had also been shot. Other evidence told him that two horses – one dragging a stretcher – had set off towards the border. Eli had almost caught up with them when he saw the approaching soldiers. Keeping hidden he had followed the patrol to their camp.
‘This does not sound good, ’Will said as he watched a scorpion, which had been hiding in a log trying to escape the flames. ‘And you’re sure it’s Cam that’s hurt?’
‘Certain, Father.’
Will shook his head as the scorpion lost its battle for life. ‘If he says he was hunting without a permit, no problem. He can grease a few palms and walk away. That’s not what worries me.’ Will was trying to come up with some way of helping his godson but only one thought kept coming back. If those bloody Portuguese discover two dead bodies, Cam could find himself swinging at the end of a rope.
The chill of a new dawn brought dew to the tents and pushed tiny pepper ticks high in the grass, waiting for the first rays of morning sun. No sentries had been posted and Eli scanned the sleeping camp with the all-seeing eyes of a serval cat – his tribal totem. One tent was guarded by a blanket-wrapped soldier who sat on a stool outside the entrance. He appeared to be sleeping. It had to be the one where they were holding the major and Henry. Carefully Eli circled the camp until he was only yards behind it. He paused, listening for any sound which might indicate danger. There was only a rhythmic snoring from further down the line. Taking a knife from his belt, Will’s son stepped forwards and slit the canvas.
Henry awoke with somebody’s hand resting lightly on his mouth. In the dim pre-dawn light he could just make out a shadowy figure standing over him, a finger indicating the need for absolute silence. He nodded and rose, stepping across to Cameron’s stretcher. Waking him gently he whispered that help had arrived. With Henry’s arm round his back, Cameron managed to sit up. Eli slipped a pair of soft leather veldschoons onto his bare feet and without a word both men helped him through the back of the tent and into the bush beyond.
The pain in Cameron’s stomach was a dull ache as they followed game trails through the bush that no horse could hope to follow. Each step seemed to twist and stretch the army doctor’s handiwork but Cam gritted his teeth and, with Henry’s help, kept going. Progress was slow and it took them until almost midday to reach a camp which looked as if it had been there for days instead of only hours. All traces of wagon tracks had been carefully obliterated.
Will welcomed them with obvious relief.
As expected, it was not long before a Portuguese patrol of at least thirty men – led by the officer who spoke English – found the camp.
Will shuffled forwards to meet them, waving as if to attract attention. ‘Am I pleased to see you, ’he blurted out, stumbling and shaking convincingly. ‘I need quinine and phenacetin urgently. How far is your camp? Is there a doctor?’
The young soldier pranced his horse forwards, not sure what to do next. Duty prevailed. ‘We are looking for escaped prisoners, senhor. One white and one black. I will have to search your wagon.’
‘By all means, Colonel, ’Will said, flattering the man with a rank higher than he owned. ‘Most of my boys are down with blackwater. Two died this morning. There’s a dead horse in the bloody river and we’ve been drinking from it for a week. Just hurry up and get me some muthi. I need whisky too.’
The officer looked down suspiciously. ‘Do you have papers, senhor?’
Will rummaged in a pocket and produced a well-worn permit authorising him to trade in Portuguese territory. With a shaking hand he offered it up.
‘This seems to be in order Senhor Green, but I must insist on carrying out a search.’
‘Then for the love of God, Colonel, please hurry.’
He rode forwards but reined in his horse at the sight of such a disgusting camp. There was mess everywhere. Apart from the chaos, three sweat-soaked Africans lay beside the open wagon, moaning and calling for water. Another – a coloured – appeared to be dead. Two graves had recently been dug, the mounds displaying crude wooden crosses. The young man made the sign of a crucifix on his chest. He didn’t hear Will come up behind him.
‘You can see why we need help. I cannot leave here. Please, Colonel, you are our only hope.’
Shaking his head he reined round to distance himself from the scene. ‘I will send the items you have requested. There is no need to trouble you further. Good day, Senhor Green.’ With that he kicked his horse into a canter and rejoined his column.
‘Tell them to make it quick, ’Will called shakily to the departing cavalry officer. Once the troops were out of sight, he wiped the nervous sweat from his brow and shouted, ‘Right, lads, let’s get the hell out of here.’
Immediately, Eli and the apparently sick Africans jumped to their feet, quickly clearing soil from the two graves. Where there should have been a corpse the ground moved and Henry sat up, spitting a hollow reed from his mouth. Cameron, they had to help.
‘Bloody close, ’ Will muttered, walking back towards the wagon. ‘I’m getting too old for this kind of game.’
‘Thanks, Will, ’ Cameron said. ‘We owe you and Eli our lives.’
‘Well, best you get back over the border before we have to come up with something else. All this excitement is no good for my heart.’
‘That’s exactly what we intend to do, ’ Cameron said, shaking Will’s hand. ‘I don’t need your death on my conscience.’
His godfather grinned. ‘Pity about Klaas and that other fellow, though. What happens next? You’re no closer to finding Torben’s daughter.’
‘I don’t know, Will. I honestly don’t know.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
A cutting wind blew incessantly, covering everything in a layer of fine dust. The tent provided little protection as Heidi did what she could to keep Alice clean. Water was strictly rationed and there was no guarantee it had not been contaminated by the totally inadequate sanitary arrangements which affected everybody in the camp. The child was grizzling. Heidi felt helpless.
There had been two burials that morning, presided over by a bearded predikant of the Dutch-derived Nederduits Gereformeede Kerk, or NGK as it was better known. He wore a tattered black suit and hat, his powerful voice promising that the wrath of God would strike down those responsible. Heidi wondered why he was taking so long to do it.
One of those they mourned was the child of a woman Heidi had befriended. Like her, Marie Burger had nothing else in the world save for her infant daughter. Now she did not even have that. The camp doctor had diagnosed measles but there was nothing he could do to save the little girl.
Heidi sat by the cot she had fabricated from an old packing case and tried to soothe the young child. Alice’s temperature seemed higher than normal and it worried her – not that she was feeling much better herself. When Heidi had woken that morning she experienced a strange pain in her stomach and felt feverish. These soon passed and she prayed the symptoms had meant nothing serious. Her greatest fear was that something might happen to her, leaving little Alice alone and unloved.
Lifting her from the wooden box, Heidi made sure the threadbare blanket gave as much protection as possible. Carrying Alice tight against her she sought out Marie’s tent and found her friend sitting inside, clutching a framed photograph. Sh
e was weeping and did not look up as Heidi entered.
‘Can I do anything for you?’ she asked, feeling the woman’s pain.
Red-eyed, Marie looked up. Although she was only twenty years old she had aged considerably in the short time Heidi had known her.
Placing Alice on the bed, she wrapped her arms around the younger woman. ‘She is with God, ’ Heidi offered lamely. ‘In a better place than this.’ The photograph showed a husband and wife with a tiny baby. The proud parents were probably wearing their best clothes, the child a long christening gown. It brought tears to Heidi’s eyes as well. Marie began sobbing again. ‘We must remain strong, ’ Heidi said, tightening her grip. ‘God and our menfolk expect it.’
‘My baby did no harm to the British.’ Marie stated a simple fact. ‘So why has God chosen to take her away?’
Heidi did not have an answer. She suddenly felt quite sick as a new wave of fever hit her.
Will Green’s wagon trundled towards the border. Cameron lay in the back surrounded by skins, tusks and a clutter of other bits and pieces. Henry rode beside the Zulu driver, a man who knew his father and had once worked at Morningside.
‘Soldiers coming!’ Eli shouted a warning to Will, who swung round in his saddle and saw that they were being followed. He could not see long distances but the dust left no doubt.
‘How many?’ he called to his son.
‘I think it is the same ones who came yesterday.’
Will felt sick in the stomach. Having passed through the Lebombo Hills he was sure they must have crossed the ill-defined border between Portuguese East Africa and the Transvaal. Where it actually ran was a moot point when you were outnumbered by at least three to one. Even if Cameron and Henry could be hidden, Will had no doubt that the Portuguese would find the rapid recovery of his men more than a little suspicious. They had come so close to evading capture but with a heavily loaded wagon there was no hope of outrunning the rapidly approaching horsemen. Reluctantly, he held up a hand, indicating to his driver that they should wait for the Portuguese patrol to catch up. Eli had been correct– it was the young officer they had fooled the day before.
‘I see that miracles are still possible, senhor, ’he said sarcastically, a faint smile on his face. ‘And I also notice that you have gained an extra employee. Perhaps there is yet another in your wagon?’
Will’s heart was pounding. ‘We picked him up a few miles back.’ He hoped that one African looked much like another to the aristocratic soldier.
‘Then, senhor, I can only assume that you are aiding this man’s escape from justice. I am forced to arrest you and all those in your company. Please, I would like to look in the wagon.’
‘Capitano!’ The cry came from one of the Portuguese patrol.
He looked at where the man was pointing and was genuinely startled to see a column of raggedly dressed individuals coming towards them from the west. Will looked up and assumed it was a Boer komando. What would happen next was anybody’s guess. Thankfully, there was no evidence that Cameron and Henry were in any way associated with the British armed forces.
They moved with practised precision, fanning out to confront the mounted Portuguese. Will counted about twenty of them. One came forwards to address the soldiers. The man was tiny– even on horseback – with a huge handlebar moustache, bushy eyebrows and piercing black eyes. When he spoke it was in heavily accented English, revealing a mouth devoid of teeth save for a few yellowed stumps. ‘Vot do you men tink you are doing in British territory? Do any of you dagoes speak English?’
The army officer smarted at both the question and the insult. He did, however, admire the man’s knee-length leather boots and hand-crafted silver spurs. ‘I do, senhor. And who are you to question my authority on Portuguese soil?’
‘I am Colonel Ludwig Steinacker, ’he answered. ‘Who de pluddy hell are you?’
‘Captain Ferdinand da Gama. On behalf of His Majesty King Carlos of Portugal, I must insist that you and your men submit to my authority.’
‘Cheeky also. It is de other way round. You haf invaded de Empire of His Majesty King Edward de seventh of Great Britain. I can prove it if you so vish.’
‘And how would you do that?’
‘Vit a map and compass – assuming they teach you to use such tings.’
Da Gama ignored the barbed remark. ‘Agreed. I have a map. Do you have the compass?’
‘I do, ’ Steinacker said, swinging from his horse.
The Portuguese officer also dismounted, producing a map from inside his tunic and spreading it on the ground. Their men waited, watching each other for any signs of aggression.
Steinacker looked around then pointed at three readily identifiable geographic features. ‘Vood you agree those three hills are these ones?’ His finger stabbed at the map.
Da Gama studied both and unconsciously bit down on his bottom lip. ‘I would.’
Producing his compass, Steinacker orientated the map with true north, then called a bearing, which the captain recorded. This was done twice more to give a triangular reference on their position. The lines put them almost exactly on the border – too close to say whose territory it was.
‘It vood appear ve are both right and wrong, ’ Steinacker said as the two men rose to their feet. ‘If ve are to avoid an international incident it vood be best if ve both vitdraw.’
‘Agreed, Colonel. But I will take my prisoners with me.’
‘And I disagree, ’ the wiry little man said, looking up at Captain da Gama. ‘Since neither of us can be certain vere ve are, might I suggest that these men be allowed to go their own way?’
The Portuguese officer stared hard at Will. He knew the men he sought had left him two British army horses. There was no sign of the one whose life he had most definitely saved. The African on the wagon looked familiar but he couldn’t be certain. Without further ado he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of acceptance. ‘So be it, ’he said cheerfully. ‘I have done my duty.’
‘Tank you, Captain.’ Steinacker thrust out his hand. ‘I appreciate your gesture of goodvill.’
Da Gama took the hand. ‘If all disputes could be settled between reasonable men there would be no cause for war.’
‘A good point, Captain. A good point. I bid you good day, sir.’
The young officer saluted smartly and Steinacker returned the gesture. On command, the Portuguese column wheeled and rode back in the direction from which it had come.
Will climbed stiffly from his horse and introduced himself.
‘I haf heard of you, Mister Green, ’Steinacker said. ‘Tell me, in your recent travels haf you perhaps encountered a British major?’
‘Funny you should ask that, ’Will grinned. ‘I happen to have one by the name of Granger-Acheson in my wagon. Seems he had a bit of an accident on the wrong side of the border.’
‘I see. Then it is fortunate for him a certain Lieutenant Pickstone told me de major and an African scout ver doing a little detour through Portuguese territory. That cavalry camp is quite new so ven they did not return as planned a little look-see vas called for. Ve ver very lucky.’
‘I agree. It wouldn’t do to start a rumour that the major had deserted.’
‘Vitch vay are you going, Mister Green?’
‘South. To Swaziland.’
‘Then ve vill make a machila for de major so ve can carry him. His men are no more than ten miles to de vest of here. I trust de mission vas a success.’
Will shook his head. ‘British intelligence may think so but the major had a personal reason for being there. From that point of view, I’m afraid it was a failure.’
In the flickering yellow lamplight, Marie Burger muttered words of prayer and dabbed Heidi’s forehead with a sweat-soaked cloth. The fever was intense, her mind flipping through uninvited memories as if she were watching a magic lantern show. There was nothing more the camp’s English doctor could do and that night Marie saw the signs of death in her friend.
In a blanket-covere
d wooden box beside the bed where Heidi lay in her delirium, Alice grizzled and cried with hunger.
‘My baby’s name is Alice Petersen, ’Heidi said in a moment of absolute lucidity. ‘Her family is from Durban.’
Marie was startled by the statement but dismissed the words as another fevered rambling. Suddenly Heidi gripped her wrist and tried to sit up. Staring eyes, burning with the flame of fever and frustration, bored into hers.
‘She is not mine, ’ Heidi said fiercely. ‘The Broederbond. They took Alice from her true mother. You must promise to return her if ...’ Letting go of Marie’s wrist, Heidi sighed and sank back against the sweat-soaked blanket. ‘Promise me!’ she demanded. ‘You are her only hope.’
‘I promise, ’Marie said half heartedly, if only to placate the dying woman. ‘Petersen – in Durban. I will remember that.’
Before the sun rose Heidi van der Merwe died of typhoid. Marie gently lifted Alice from her improvised cot and cradled her in her arms. She still had milk from the child she had so recently lost and placed Alice on a nipple already leaking in anticipation. The sensation flooded Marie with maternal instincts as she realised her own need to be a mother had been given a second chance at fulfilment. The Lord worked in strange ways, she thought to herself and began to hum.
Lieutenant Pickstone completed the task of setting up border pickets between latitudes twenty-four and twenty-five degrees south while Cameron remained at Sabi Bridge, too ill to move. Henry sat with him day and night, encouraging his friend to stay alive while the fevers came and went.
The infection had been bad but by introducing maggots to devour any dead flesh the wound was kept clean and at last started to heal. Eventually he was well enough to travel and ‘Stinky’ Steinacker made arrangements for his transfer by rail from Komatipoort to Pretoria.
Duncan was the first person to visit him in the military hospital. Cameron told his brother all that had transpired. There was no news of Alice and they had to accept that the trail had run cold. He learned that Major John Scott had fronted for Duncan at the boarding-house fire enquiry, saying it was a matter of military intelligence and thus classified. He would at least welcome the news that Klaas was no longer a worry. Duncan’s wound– which had healed to an interesting scar – would one day make a fine story for his children. He hadn’t told Tanith.
Footprints of Lion Page 41
