Hervey 08 - Company Of Spears (32 page)

‘What’s to be done?’ asked Hervey.

The landdrost’s jaw jutted. ‘I would wish to have one of Brown’s neighbours by the name of Mahoney arrested for illegal trading, and his land confiscated. That ought to still the activity. I have asked the military to station two men on Brown’s property until such time that I can determine on a conciliatory course with the Xhosa. Brown’s claims of losses I find loose and exaggerated. They’d be wholly impossible to verify without actually tracing the cattle to the Xhosa kraals. Might I accompany you? At least as far as to Brown’s farm and the clay pits.’

Hervey had no objection. He trusted his own powers of observation and discernment in strictly military affairs (if there could
be
such a thing as strictly military), but in judging the civil conditions at the frontier he knew he would be wise to have counsel of the civil authority.

The following morning, Hervey and his party, accompanied by the landdrost and three pandours who would act as scouts – Hottentots from the Cape Corps detachment – left Graham’s Town for Brown’s farm and the clay pits. It was another fine day, with a few high, barred clouds to remind them that the sea was not so very distant, but otherwise in the vast carpet of green and yellow – rich grass that sorely tempted the horses, and a flower he did not quite recognize – Hervey could have believed himself in the middle of a continent rather than at its furthest edge. Johnson, however, was soon voicing his disappointment by the lack of game, big or otherwise. They saw the odd bush-buck, and plenty of birds, but nothing, he reckoned, they would not have seen in India. The landdrost, drawn in by Johnson’s simple curiosity, as Fairbrother had been the day before, explained that when they reached the Fish River they would see more; and if then they were to ride south towards its estuary, they would see hippopotamus, buffalo, antelope in many guises, and perhaps even the black rhinoceros.

The names meant less to him than the landdrost supposed, especially since Johnson did not reveal his ignorance. He knew what a buffalo was, and for that matter antelope (he understood, too, that there were different types), but hippopotamus and rhinoceros were wholly novel. In any case, what he wanted more than anything to see was elephant. In India he had become quite used to them: they were but a part of the scene of daily life, domestic even. In Africa, however, he had heard that elephants were twice the size of their Indian cousins, with tusks that might gore a horse in an instant, toss it aloft indeed; and that these beasts ranged in herds ten times more destructive than a whole brigade of charging cavalry. This he wanted to see at a safe distance yet close enough to judge for himself the power of those massive tusks – any one of which, besides spelling death, might also bring him considerable fortune.

The road to Brown’s farm was a good one. It was not so much made as well travelled, though not by waggon, so that it was evenly worn rather than rutted, allowing a comfortable pace at both walk and trot. In two and a half hours, as the sun was nearing its highest, though its heat was no more than a June day on Salisbury Plain (and certainly nothing to what they had been used to in Bengal at this season), the party arrived at the farm. There was no marking its boundary save for a stone at the roadside, no fence or cleared perimeter, but half a mile distant they could see a cluster of white-washed buildings, and wispy smoke rising from a single chimney.

‘Do you know where his cattle graze?’ asked Hervey, puzzled that there was no sign of them.

‘Beyond the buildings yonder,’ replied the landdrost, looking about him at the good spring grass. ‘He ought by rights to have driven them up here by now, but the water’s all on the other side of the farm, and it’s easier. Brown’s not the most industrious of men. This is good soil here, and he ought to be growing maize, wheat even; but ploughing’s hard work, especially when cattle take no looking to at all.’

‘Except when the Xhosa take a fancy to them.’

‘Exactly so.’

When they came to the farmhouse, a plain, single-storey, stone-built affair with an iron roof, they found the two men of the Cape Corps saddling their horses in the lean-to stabling.

‘Is John Brown hereabout?’ called the landdrost.

The men, both Irish, red-coated but hatless, looked tired and dirty. It appeared to dawn on them slowly that here were reinforcements. ‘Ay, sor,’ said one of them, belatedly knuckling his forehead and standing to attention. ‘T’other side of the farm. Xhosa were thieving again last night, sor. Drove off a hundred head and more.’

Hervey decided that this was now as much military business as civil. ‘Stand easy, Corporal. What is Brown doing about it?’

The man turned to him, looking relieved to be in receipt of orders again. ‘Sor! Him and his men are trying to catch loose horses, and then he says he’s going to ride to Blaufontein to get up a posse of burghers, sor – Dutchmen.’

Hervey looked at the landdrost.

‘He’s within his rights, though I would wish he didn’t take the Dutch. They’re a good deal more savage, and that’s the last thing we need.’

‘I think the Xhosa’ve taken one of the boys with them as well, sor,’ said the corporal, looking now to the landdrost. ‘At least I hope they’ve taken him, and not just stuck a spear in him.’

‘One of the Hottentots?’

‘No, sor, one of the white boys.’

‘Oh God,’ groaned the landdrost. ‘That gives us little option but to chase them hard. What do you think, Captain Fairbrother?’

Fairbrother and the landdrost had got on well together the previous night. They had met before, when Fairbrother had come with his company of Royal Africans in the late troubles. The landdrost was evidently more disposed to take his advice than he would have been the Graham’s Town lieutenant’s. ‘I am of the opinion that if the Xhosa are chased by Dutch burghers they’ll fight as if it’s one band of brigands against another. If they’re pursued by redcoats – they’re not stupid – they’ll know it’s a matter of government.’

‘And?’ asked Hervey.

‘I doubt the boy would survive a fight between brigands. If they see that government is after them then they’ll be forced to think. As I said, they’re not stupid. And in Xhosa law, the tribe as a whole is responsible for any felony.’

‘Sor?’

‘Carry on, Corporal,’ said Hervey.

‘Sor! We heard yesterday the Xhosa’ve been raiding north of here as well, in the Dutch lands. I think the burghers’ll be turning out anyway, if they haven’t already.’

The landdrost’s brow furrowed. ‘That changes things. If there’s a general irruption of Xhosa, as it seems there may be, then I think, Colonel Hervey, we must send word back to Graham’s-town for troops to come forward. And to Port Elizabeth too.’

Hervey nodded. ‘By what means does Fort Willshire communicate with Graham’s-town? Will they not have detected the trouble? I should very much hope so.’

‘And should I. They communicate by messenger via Trompetter’s Drift. We’ll know if they’ve detected anything when we get there.’

Hervey looked thoughtful. ‘I think, Landdrost, you had better go yourself, had you not?’

The landdrost was uncertain. ‘I can scarcely leave you to wander the frontier, Colonel Hervey. I thought I would accompany you to Fort Willshire.’

‘Indeed, of course,’ conceded Hervey at once, ‘but the situation has changed markedly, as you yourself have said. Your influence at Graham’s-town will be – if I may say it – of considerably more profit than chaperoning me here. It’s not as I would have wished, but there’s opportunity now for a meeting with the Xhosa, and I would observe them closely. Indeed, it is a quite exceptional opportunity.’

The landdrost looked troubled. ‘Colonel, with respect, you cannot treat with the Xhosa as did Lord Charles Somerset, believing them to be honourable men.’

Hervey smiled a little. ‘I have no intention of doing so, not until they are capable of proving it beyond question – which I don’t imagine for one minute they will be able to do. No, I think we may bring them to a fight of sorts, and then see how they acquit themselves.’

‘You will deliberately bring on a fight, Colonel Hervey?’

Hervey smiled again, but wryly. ‘I should rather they gave back the boy and the cattle
without
a fight, but in the circumstances I hardly expect they will. I shall be most careful in it, I assure you!’

The spoor of a hundred or more head of cattle was not difficult to follow. In any case, Fairbrother was certain the Xhosa must drive them due east to begin with, for they could not afford to go near the post at Trompetter’s Drift. At this time of year, he explained, the river would be full but not swollen, and there were several deep fords downstream of the drift. There were two other rivers the Xhosa must cross before getting to relative haven the other side of the Keiskama, he said, pointing them out on his own much-embellished map. The Baka River was the greater obstacle – greater even than the Keiskama, though not as extensive – and he reckoned the Xhosa would want to make its banks by nightfall to be able to ford it at dawn; or perhaps even to attempt a crossing after dark since the moon was so full. It was about twenty miles, easily within a day’s march for the Xhosa, even driving a hundred head of cattle. However, although the first river after the Fish, the Gwalana, was not much of an obstacle, it might slow them down more than they were prepared to accept: tired, thirsty cattle could become unmanageable when suddenly presented with water. In which case, Fairbrother argued, the Xhosa would be more likely to head
north-east
after crossing the Fish, skirting the muddy source of the Gwalana, and then continuing north-east to the Keiskama. So, if instead of tracking them across the Fish they rode fast for Trompetter’s Drift, changed horses, and then made for the head of the Gwalana, they would
intercept
the Xhosa rather than merely trying to catch them up.

They rode hard on this prediction, reaching Trompetter’s Drift in the middle of the afternoon. Here they changed horses, and Hervey, concerned lest the Xhosa were taking the different course, ordered the post serjeant to send men to patrol the far bank of the Gwalana. They then rode on without rest, reaching the muddy head of the Gwalana an hour and a half later.

‘I think we must remain mounted at all times,’ said Fairbrother as they approached the darker scrub about the headwater. ‘The Xhosa would fancy themselves superior in any fight, but they know they can’t out-run a horse.’

Hervey saw no reason to dispute it. He was, in fact, surprised by the thickness of the
bushveld
here, and the thorns and tangled grass. The country had been getting trappier by the mile since they crossed the Fish, but here it was
so
trappy they were obliged to follow animal trails – and much to Hervey’s unease, for he imagined a charging elephant or rhinoceros would deal horribly with half a dozen men and horses in single file. Moreover, the country was ideal for ambush; he was grateful for the saddle’s extra height.

‘I’m beginning to wonder if the notion of mounted rifles is a sound one,’ he said, as if turning the idea over in his mind as he spoke.

‘As long as they’re trained to fire from the saddle as well as on foot, they should serve,’ replied Fairbrother measuredly. ‘The country’s not universally close, as we saw. And the Xhosa
throw
their spears, they don’t thrust them home – not unless their situation’s desperate. I should say that the rifle is the very best way to hold them off.’

Hervey searched the cover intently, though since it was too dense to reveal even the crouching leopard, he felt his chances of detecting a black spearman were next to nothing. By what sign did the Xhosa reveal themselves? Was it by the spear itself, the sickening thud of its point in flesh? If they were to confront the reiving party it would be well that
they
ambushed
them,
for the Xhosa’s scouting skills would surely be at least the equal of their own.

‘Well, we have half a dozen carbines. It will have to do. Assuming they drive the cattle through that open stretch yonder’ (he nodded to the scattered scrub they had just ridden through) ‘if we show a surprise front I don’t imagine there’ll be much throwing or stabbing. And they can hardly run back since they must think they’re pursued as well. We shall call on them to lay down their spears and then interrogate them about the boy. One of them – the leader, if we can find him – we’ll take to Graham’s-town to be dealt with judicially. I would think he’d be willing to talk to us about what the Xhosa are up to in exchange for his neck, would you not? The rest can leave without their weapons once we get a patrol from Fort Willshire to escort them across the Keiskama.’

Fairbrother nodded. ‘You know, Hervey, what I should really like is to meet Gaika. He
is
the Xhosa’s paramount chief, after all. He has questions to answer – why he breaks the 1820 treaty, for instance. Oh, I know at Graham’s-town they said Gaika has no more idea of a treaty than a monkey, but Gaika’s no fool, and he must know the consequences of what his people are doing. So why does he permit it? This is what your Somervile ought most usefully to know.’

Hervey pondered the proposition. ‘I think you are in the right. But are there not officials who speak regularly with him?’

Fairbrother smiled. ‘I very much doubt it, Hervey. This is Africa; it is not India – or even America. There has not evolved that notion of subtle dealing with the native tribes. I have read much on this, and I confess – against my better instinct – that I am sorely impressed with the method. In Canada, for instance, you have a most estimable corps of men well versed in native affairs, and there is in consequence little trouble with the Indian tribes. And in India you send fine men from Oxford. Here, those who do the King’s bidding are not in the main men you would share a gentlemanly bottle of claret with, and—’

A shot.
So loud as to make every horse start. One of the pandours rolled backwards from the saddle, hitting the ground hard and with a scream like a woman. Corporal Wainwright barged past and fired into a thorn bush (he alone had seen the flash). He fired his second pistol. There was a shriek. He sprang from the saddle and began cutting at the thorn with his sabre as Hervey jumped down to tend the motionless redcoat. Without a word Johnson made to gather up the loose reins, even as the other two pandours were high-tailing back towards Trompetter’s Drift.