Hervey 08 - Company Of Spears

by Allan Mallinson

  Throughout November memoranda had travelled backwards and forwards like petitions in the Court of Chancery: Hervey to Bourke, Bourke to Somerset, Somerset to Bourke, Bourke to Somervile, Somervile to Hervey, Hervey to Somervile, Somervile to Bourke. Until in the end the lieutenant-governor felt himself thoroughly apprised of both the arguments and the plaintiffs, and that a colonial council was the appropriate means of resolving the dispute.

  ‘I thought it better to hold the council here rather than in chancellery,’ he said as General Bourke took the coffee cup from the tray which the khitmagar held ready at the door of the residence’s library. ‘I have asked Colonel Hervey to attend, and I beg you would forgive me if it is amiss, for if the troop of cavalry is to return to England not so very long from now, and he with it, I would have him give as much an account there of our deliberations as possible.’

  ‘Eminently reasonable, Sir Eyre,’ said Bourke, unperturbed. ‘As I informed you, there will be no need of a lieutenant-colonel in the Rifles once they are formed into independent companies. I myself would not have wished it, but the state of the military accounts …’ He shook his head.

  ‘And I have asked, too, Captain Fairbrother. I believe it would be apt if he were to hear our deliberations, since I might wish him for an interpreter at a later date.’

  The general’s countenance remained the same: if the lieutenant-governor could be accommodating in the matter of military economies, then he himself could overlook an irregularity of military protocol. ‘It is your prerogative, Lieutenant-Governor. You will not, I imagine, be asking for their opinion on military matters on which I should be obliged to give mine on a par.’

  ‘No, indeed, certainly not! Only their opinion of the peril we face. Yours is the military opinion on which I must act.’

  The show of mild dismay was effective: the general nodded. ‘Of course.’ He drained his cup and took another.

  Somervile now sought to be confidential. ‘You are aware, are you not, of all the changes in government?’ (On the sudden death of the prime minister in August there had been comings and goings.)

  ‘I may not be. Huskisson has War and the Colonies, as I understand.’

  ‘You understand right.’ The former President of the Board of Trade was now Secretary of State for the War and Colonial Department. ‘Palmerston remains at the War Office, and Anglesey at the Ordnance.’

  ‘And has Peel returned?’

  ‘No. It is Lansdowne who has the Home department.’ ‘Capital.’ General Bourke was of the opinion that no good would come of things as long as Peel and those like him were opposed to giving the Catholics their relief. ‘He’d stand in the last ditch outside Dublin.’

  Somervile half smiled. ‘Ah yes, Catholic Emancipation. Which reminds me, the amendment to the Slave Ordnance…’

  General Bourke looked at him intently, and not a little suspiciously.

  ‘I take note of your memorandum,’ said the lieutenant-governor.

  ‘You mean you will delay its promulgation?’

  ‘If we conclude this morning that action is necessary then I fear I have no alternative.’

  Bourke looked satisfied. ‘It is, of course, a civil judgement, but the military consequences are of concern to me. We should have to call out the burghers of Graaff Reinet and Uitenhage first, and they’re among the biggest slave owners. It wouldn’t do to embitter them now.’

  Somervile nodded, reluctantly: it was a damnable thing to play with men’s liberty like this – and, for that matter, to play false with the burghers so.

  The khansamah appeared. ‘The council is assembled, sahib.’

  Somervile smiled his thank-you. ‘Well, General, shall we to our council of … war, I am tempted to say?’

  An hour they sat in council. They heard the reports from the frontier landdrosts, which the colonial secretary had collected, all of which spoke of intolerable levels of predation. Colonel Somerset, as commandant of the frontier, gave his military assessment: without calling out the auxiliaries there was nothing more that could be done with the forces at his disposal.

  ‘A good deal of the present trouble is undoubtedly brought upon by the character of the settlers come from England and Ireland in recent years. They have no very great disposition to industry and no inclination to exert themselves. Indeed, at times it appears their chief object is to oppose or render odious all authority of any kind, to magnify all their difficulties, and even to sow the seeds of their discontent further afield.’

  There was much nodding among the dozen or so officials round the table.

  ‘Does anyone wish to add anything in this regard?’ asked Somervile, glancing about the assembly.

  Fairbrother, sitting not at the table itself but behind Hervey, rose.

  Colonel Somerset looked astonished. His mouth opened in protest.

  But he was too slow. ‘Proceed, sir,’ said Somervile.

  ‘Sir Eyre, gentlemen,’ began Fairbrother, nodding to the seniors with an exemplary show of respect. ‘All that we have heard – even this ill disposition and magnification on the part of the settlers – cannot account for what is perfectly clearly a significant irruption by the Xhosa. I remain of the opinion that the Zulu are the true cause of the turbulence. They press in from the north-east of the Xhosa’s territory, and the Xhosa in their turn are displaced towards the south-west and over the frontier. In other words the trespassing and the reiving is to all intents and purposes a Zulu peril.’

  Colonel Somerset struck the table. ‘Sir Eyre, we have heard all this before, in Colonel Hervey’s memoranda. It is most improper for this … officer’ (he appeared to force himself to say it) ‘to address the council in this way.’

  Somervile looked at General Bourke. He had a mind that since this was not a matter of military opinion the general would have no objection to hearing it (or at least would not declare so).

  The general shook his head.

  Somervile replied with considerable balm. ‘Colonel, I do agree with you that we have read extensively of these views, but the benefit of hearing them in council is that all may hear equally, and a proper record of deliberations may be made. Littera scripta manet?’

  With a bow, Colonel Somerset – for the time being at least – conceded.

  ‘Carry on, if you please, Captain Fairbrother,’ said Eyre Somervile, concealing a smile of satisfaction.

  ‘Thank you, Sir Eyre. I know the following to have been placed before you already, but while Captain Hervey was received by Gaika I was able to speak with some of the Xhosa elders. I believe that Gaika and the other Xhosa chiefs could be persuaded to resist the Zulu if they are given military assistance. By all I know, this King Shaka will not give up his predations. At best he will push the Xhosa from their land, and they will come across the frontier and make war with the colony. But at worst Shaka will defeat them, or persuade them to an alliance, and then we shall be obliged to fight both Xhosa and Zulu.’

  Somervile nodded. He had indeed heard it before – it was the stuff of many memoranda – but he wanted the words to be heard in council, and time for them to be weighed. He said nothing for a full minute, appearing to contemplate the paper in front of him.

  At length he looked at General Bourke, who remained silent. ‘Very well. The inescapable conclusion, gentlemen – unless there is something I have overlooked – is that it were greatly better to fight this Shaka now, and at a remove on the north-east of Kaffraria with the Xhosa in alliance, than face the prospect in not many more years of fighting the Zulu on the Fish River, with the Xhosa on Shaka’s side.’

  No one spoke.

  Somervile looked at the colonial secretary (later Hervey would conclude that it was rehearsed). ‘Colonel Bird, what are the reports of Shaka?’

  Colonel Bird opened a portfolio. ‘Sir Eyre, the reports to hand on the activity of the Zulu are – I trust that I do not magnify them – of an alarming tendency. The Zulu have already raided deep into the land of the Tambooka, and not two weeks ago, when
the Natal report was sent, they had marched several days into Xhosa land and taken many cattle.’

  Heads were lowered studying the maps on the table.

  ‘It is far from clear that they have withdrawn from either territory, and it seems likely that raiding on this insolent scale has been occurring for many months. I am of the opinion, too, Sir Eyre, that the present trouble on the eastern frontier is due indirectly to Shaka’s predation. It would test our strength sorely to subdue the Xhosa, even with the auxiliaries called out, and if the Zulu then overrun the Xhosa territory – which would be in effect with our assistance – we should face a greatly more rapacious opponent. I submit, gentlemen, that Shaka is our more dangerous enemy, not Gaika.’

  There was hubbub. Somervile, certain as he was that a consensus could only be reached by so palpably ‘democratic’ a fashion, let it continue while he appeared to gather his papers and his thoughts.

  General Bourke looked contemptuous of the disorder, but said nothing (Hervey surmised that it was all the better to maintain his dignity thereby).

  When the noise began to die down, Somervile tapped the table with the ends of his fingers. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for your admirably succinct and unequivocal opinion. General Bourke?’

  Somervile played his cards well, thought Hervey (as he had always known him to do): to have asked for any other’s opinion now would have been a discourtesy at the very least.

  General Bourke looked thoughtful. ‘I should like to hear Colonel Somerset’s estimation.’

  Somervile glanced at the commandant of the frontier.

  The commandant gave it at once. ‘Sir Eyre, General, I do not agree with Colonel Bird’s opinion’ (Hervey noted the omission of Fairbrother’s name) ‘that Shaka and his Zulus are the cause of the trouble along the frontier. He shouts “Eureka!” like Archimedes in his bath: the Zulu displace the Xhosa, who then wash over the border. It is not science here. The Xhosa are an indolent people; they wish for easy prey. That is why they trespass in the colony!’

  General Bourke’s expression was of mild surprise.

  Somerset held up a hand. ‘However, I do believe Colonel Bird is correct in saying that if the Zulu overwhelm the Xhosa – whose true fighting prowess I have never held in high regard – then we shall indeed have a more rapacious, and greatly more capable, enemy on the Fish River. From what I have heard of the Zulu under Shaka, I should not be content to let them rest there without two brigades of regular cavalry and three of infantry at the frontier. To that end, therefore, I believe that the defeat of Shaka should be our object as prelude to dealing with Gaika. Indeed, it may well be that the destruction of Shaka is a powerful enough signal to every Xhosa chief.’

  Somervile could not hide his satisfaction. He now looked to General Bourke for his conclusion.

  The general gave it decidedly. ‘I concur. I believe we must send word to Shaka informing him that the colony supports the Kaffir tribes. It might have some moderating effect, though I doubt it. We might gain a little time, however. I would propose meanwhile to assemble a field force and call out the burghers.’

  The lieutenant-governor sat silent with his hands together, as if in prayer. He had read the reports, listened to opinions, and received his general’s advice. He could not – in council at least – decently consult more. Besides, he had heard beforehand the opinion of the officer he trusted above all others. ‘Very well, General. The embassy to Shaka, if I may call it that, is to proceed at once, and I leave it to your discretion who shall constitute it, for although it is a matter of polity, yet I believe it best carried out by the military. Be pleased to assemble a field force such that could, in concert with the Xhosa, eject the Zulu from the tribal territory. I will today issue instructions for the call-out of the burghers. What is the earliest that you would be able to take to the field?’

  ‘Three weeks.’

  ‘Very well. For the purposes of the necessary authority and expenditure, Colonel Bird will enter that date, three weeks hence, as the commencement of active operations.’ He bowed. ‘Thank you, General, gentlemen, for your counsel. We may adjourn.’

  Outside, in the warm summer sun, Colonel Somerset had words with Hervey. ‘Do not suppose that I did not know what game was afoot in there, Hervey. You and your half-caste friend may have the ear of the governor – and for the time being of General Bourke – but let it be rightly understood: I shall command the field force, and you shall carry out my orders!’

  Hervey bowed. ‘I understand perfectly.’

  XXII

  THE KAFFRARIA FIELD FORCE

  Graham’s Town, 19 December

  Instructions to the Commander of the Kaffraria

  Field Force

  By Major-General Richard Bourke C.B.

  In accordance with a directive received from Sir Eyre Somervile K.H., C.B., Lieutenant-Governor of the Cape Colony, you are to proceed at once to the frontier of the Kaffir tribes and the territory of the Zulu and, in concert with the Xhosa and others, take what measures you deem expedient for the ejection of the Zulu from the country west of the Bashee River. Your object shall be the utmost demonstration to the Zulu Chief Shaka that His Majesty will not permit of the intrusion into the country west of the Bashee River, for whatever purposes. The Lieutenant-Governor does not consider that it shall be expedient to cross to the East of the Umtata River, but he does not absolutely forbid it if in your judgement it is necessary for the accomplishment of the object. The Lieutenant-Governor does not consider that causing for Shaka to be killed, or his taking prisoner, shall be expedient.

  The following shall comprise the Kaffraria Field Force (Lt. Col. The Honbl. H. Somerset).

  H.M. 55th Regmt, Lt. Col. Mill

  Det. H.M. 6th Lt. Dgns, A/Lt. Col. Hervey

  CoyMtd. Rifles, Capt. Welsh

  Two commandos (Durand and van Wyk),

  Albany district

  (all mtd. troops to be under orders Col. Hervey)

  Det. R. Artillery, Capt. Baker

  Trp. Civil Hottentots, Lt. Sinclair

  (sgnd.) R. Bourke,

  Maj-Genl,

  Commander of the Forces of H.M. Cape

  Colony,

  The Castle, Cape-town,

  7th December 1827

  Hervey contemplated his command. It was drawn up for final inspection before they would cross the frontier into the Xhosa territory, two wings of a bird, as it were, each very differently feathered but in its own way looking entirely serviceable. On his left – the right of the parade, as befitted their seniority – stood eighty-eight horses and men of E Troop, His Majesty’s 6th Light Dragoons, the blue of their tunics already faded slightly by the Cape sun, the shako covers bleached perfectly white. The troop stood a hand or so lower than at the final parade before embarkation in England: the remounts were hardy enough, but short in the leg. Hervey had no great concern about this: in action against cavalry the difference of a hand might tell, for height gave a man the advantage in a contest of sabres; against infantry it mattered less, especially men for whom a horse of any height brought terror. On his right were ranked the Mounted Rifles, two hundred of them, true dragoons – men for whom the horse was the means of swift movement between one fighting position, dismounted, and another. They wore green rather than blue, as the riflemen of the English Line, their shakos were almost identical to the Sixth’s, and they wore loose, strapped trousers not unlike the Sixth’s overalls. Unlike the Sixth, however, what they called swords were in fact bayonets, although some of the riflemen had in addition curved or straight sabres attached to the saddle. Their horses were compact too. For the Cape Corps of Mounted Riflemen, however, a horse that stood 14.3 hands was something of an advantage: easy to mount, and to dismount from, easier to hold, easier to conceal.

  One troop of light dragoons, one company of mounted rifles: the combined strength was that of a squadron, not much more. And yet Hervey had ideas for his command (which included the burghers, although he had his doubts about their reliability in a pitc
hed battle) that made them more of a brigade. The Rifles had drilled with growing confidence in the past month, so that he was certain of their usefulness en masse rather than as mere mobile skirmishers or patrouilleurs. And their captain was a good fellow – Welsh, another Shorncliffe man, late of the Forty-third, who had come to the Cape five years ago when his young wife had died in childbirth.

  ‘Hammer and anvil,’ he said as he watched them – the blue and the green. Their serjeant-majors were satisfying themselves that all was well, each in his own way. Hervey marked the difference: the Rifles’ man scurried and harried like a terrier; Armstrong stalked along the front rank like an old hound, snarling occasionally, and once or twice barking.

  ‘Hammer and anvil?’ asked Fairbrother, sitting astride a little chestnut entire that looked as if it could leap the Fish River in one bound.

  Hervey wore Rifle green (as did Fairbrother): he had handed command of the troop to his lieutenant. And with the Rifles company under the able orders of its own captain he was able to sit at a remove and take in the scene. The last of the stores were being broken out at the wharves and loaded on to the sprung waggons – a dozen of them, real fliers compared with the groaning old carts they had had in India. He was looking forward keenly to the fight, and hammer and anvil was how he saw the blue and the green: ‘You fix the shoe in place upon the anvil, then strike with the hammer. You fix the Zulu in place upon the Rifles and then strike with the troop.’

  Fairbrother nodded.

  ‘Or perhaps the analogy is better made with beaters and guns.’

  ‘Each might be apt,’ replied Fairbrother, his eyes still on the parade. ‘Depending on who was to deal the fatal blow, rifles or cavalry.’

  Hervey turned to him, with the suggestion of a smile. ‘You should never have wasted a moment on half pay. That green suits you.’

  ‘Black buttons, black face?’

  ‘Do not begin on that again!’