Hervey 08 - Company Of Spears (47 page)

‘Christ!’ he spat, and turned hard. ‘Sound “rally”, Corporal Dilke!’

Dilke pulled up to blow. He could do it at the gallop right enough – at a field day. But the price of blowing ill here was too great. And it was not an easy call: semi-quavers and octave leaps. He would blow till he saw the troop rallying.

He did not see the Zulu playing dead twenty yards away. He did not see him coming flat like the leopard when it runs in for its prey. Nor the fast, furious sprint to the kill. Nor the
iklwa,
as it stabbed at his side, under his rib cage, deep into his vitals: eight whole inches when four would have been fatal.

He let out no cry, but the ‘rally’ ceased abruptly on the long, final C.

XXV

THE COLOUR OF DANGER

Next morning

‘Very well, Mr Fearnley: exactly as before!’

Lieutenant Fearnley squinted into the low, eastern sun and touched his shako in acknowledgement.

They had been in the saddle all night. The Zulu had swept over the ridge
i
’
mpondo zankhomo:
in the ‘beast’s horns’ formation. Hervey had never seen such an envelopment before. And if he had obliged them and held his ground longer, the tips of the horns would have met and his force would have been trapped in a killing-circle. By some instinct he had sensed the danger in time, recalled the troop, remounted the Rifles and withdrawn in good order to the next piece of high ground. There he had recovered his balance, so to speak. He concluded that Matiwane had used his first cohort (
ivyo,
as later he would know it) to probe the strength of his unexpected adversary. He had used brave men’s breasts to discover the awful power of the rifle, and it looked as if he were prepared to use many more to overcome it. Hervey knew it would not be possible to stand again in the way he had, for Matiwane could be no fool. He was certainly not without resolve. Even with the speed of the horse in his favour, Hervey could not be sure he could afford a close action when the Zulu were so practised in enveloping.

And so his three hundred had kept watch in the moonlight, the Rifles firing the occasional harassing volley, dragoons and riflemen retiring steadily along their former line of advance, never giving the Zulu a chance to rush them or work round a flank. Sometime after midnight Matiwane had discontinued the advance in line, reverting to the single file of the
ivyo,
easier to control and direct. And now, at the break of the new day and the veld coming to life, as the raptors began seeking out the first columns of warm air on which to rise to their own posts of observation (how Hervey envied them their elevation), they must begin the game again, and continue until Colonel Somerset and his red-coated battalion, with the artillery, the burghers and the legions of Xhosa, came up and delivered the decisive blow.

As soon as they had broken off the first engagement, Hervey had sent back a cornet to report to Somerset, and with orders to return as soon as possible after first light with Somerset’s intentions, for he wanted as good an idea as possible how long ‘the game’ must continue. He was surprised, however, to see him galloping back now.

‘Mr Beauchamp, you were up with the larks, I perceive.’

‘Colonel,’ replied Cornet Beauchamp, saluting and trying not to appear too eager. Yesterday was his first time in action, and his mission to Colonel Somerset his first as a galloper.

Hervey, sitting at ease astride his mare, a canteen of Johnson’s best tea in his sword hand, touched his shako peak by return.

‘Colonel Somerset’s compliments, sir, and would you see the Zulu to the Ox River one league to our rear. He will give battle there.’

Hervey sat up. ‘One league? Only one league? Are you sure? Then they marched prodigiously quick!’

‘Colonel. I came on them just before midnight not five miles from the river. I would have made them earlier but my mare went lame.’

Hervey wondered why Beauchamp had not at once taken his coverman’s horse; but that could wait.

‘After I had given Colonel Somerset your report he said they would continue the march and asked me to lead – he said he was uncertain of his guides – and we reached the river at about four o’clock. The moon was gone by then but we carried out a reconnaissance of the fords, and the colonel decided that he would stand on the defensive there on the west bank. I considered that it was proper to remain with the colonel during the reconnaissance since I would then be able to inform you precisely of the situation. I set out as soon as it was expedient. Colonel.’

Hervey nodded. ‘I don’t doubt it. You did right. How many Xhosa, by the way?’

‘Colonel Somerset said seven thousand.’

Hervey sighed – to himself, but with considerable relief. ‘Very well, Mr Beauchamp; you may rejoin your troop. Smart work.’

Johnson gave the cornet tea as he reined away.

Hervey turned to Fairbrother, who was observing the flight of distant vultures. ‘You heard that? Somerset at the river but a league back!’

Fairbrother kept his telescope to his eye. ‘I did indeed. Very gratifying. Colonel Somerset has vigour; I’ll grant you that.’

‘You might sound more convinced – or convincing.’

With no Zulu in sight, Hervey now dismounted and signalled for the troop to stand down.

‘What do you look at so intently?’

‘Yon birds. I’ve observed in the past that they can be useful.’

Hervey was well enough acquainted with vultures. In India there were so many, and carrion so plentiful, it was their absence only that was remarked. ‘How so?’

‘They’re scavengers, but I’ve long observed that it is the living which first attracts them, not the dead – which they might not always see, though they must have a hawk-eye like their cousins. It is the natural order of things on the veld: the living continually become the dead.’

Hervey was unfastening the bit to give his mare a peck of corn. ‘Fairbrother, neither of us has had any sleep, so I beg you to be brief.’

Fairbrother lowered his telescope. ‘I thought at first the Zulu might have killed a bull – the sort of thing I believe they do to fortify themselves – but observe the distribution of the birds. They’re not circling with apparent intent to come down on a particular spot; they’re patrolling a wide area. Which I presume is that occupied by the Zulu bivouac.’

‘Why aren’t they all at yesterday’s feast?’ asked Hervey as he took out his own telescope again.

‘You have your answer: it was yesterday’s feast.’

‘So
quick?’

Fairbrother nodded.

Hervey peered at them for a good while. Their line of patrol was a full mile to the troop’s front, and the same in length: much as he imagined the
impi
to occupy in bivouac – or else in the advance. ‘If it is so – their watching the Zulu, I mean – then they’re worth a couple of dozen scouts. I wonder shall they tell us when they advance?’

‘I shall endeavour to read the signs,’ said Fairbrother airily.

Hervey nodded, and smiled. He put back the telescope in its holster and took a handful of corn from the feedbag on the saddle. His mare ate it greedily.

‘May I make a suggestion?’ asked Fairbrother.

‘By all means.’

‘You’ll send out scouts?’

‘They’re making ready this moment. It is the usual drill.’

‘I should like to ride to that little hill yonder.’ He pointed out what appeared to be the merest anthill on the green veld. ‘I’ve a notion I might see things better.’

‘I have no objection,’ said Hervey, but warily. ‘Take with you Corporal Byrne.’

‘If I may, I’d rather go unaccompanied.’

Hervey was reluctant to accede; it took only his horse to lame itself and Fairbrother would be at the mercy of the spear. But then, he had crawled about the bush at night and dealt singly with three Xhosa … ‘Very well.’

With the scouts forward, Hervey was able to stand down both troop and company to make a proper feed for the horses and breakfast for themselves. For over forty hours neither dragoon nor rifleman had eaten but what they carried in their haversacks: corn cakes, and dried meat which without slaking was like chewing bridle leather. Hervey sat on the ground holding his mare’s reins, letting her pull at the rough veld grass. It would have no goodness in it (except, he supposed, for the game – the antelope and such) but a little bulk inside would do her no harm.

He looked up at the vultures. Had they picked clean Gilbert’s bones yet? He hated the death of a horse without ceremony, without proper disposal, leaving it to the pecking and tearing of crows and ravening dogs, and then to the ants and maggots and worms … He grieved separately for Corporal Dilke.

‘All well, sir?’ came a voice of the Tyne.

‘Passing
well, Sarn’t-major,’ he replied, without looking up.

‘A close shave wi’ Gilbert, I understand.’ ‘

Ay. How’s the troop?’

It was not rightly ‘procedure’ for the troop serjeant-major to speak above the head of the troop leader (and Hervey had placed his lieutenant squarely in command); but with Armstrong ‘right procedure’ was an aid, like spurs or a whip, not an end in itself. Hervey would ever welcome his counsel, or even, as now, simply his company.

‘They’re in good fettle. Them greenheads did all right yesterday. Not one unseated. And not a horse lame this morning.’

Hervey had had the parade states already, but Armstrong’s assurance was welcome nonetheless. As it had been for a dozen years and more. Indeed, he had almost begun to think of Armstrong and the army – certainly the regiment – as one and the same. ‘We made a deal of vulture meat yesterday.’

‘We did an’ all, sir. But I doubt they’ll be caught like that again. Not the way they kept coming on when the rifles began dropping ‘em. An’ if they can learn to form square with them spears… ‘

Hervey agreed. They had fought men under discipline yesterday, strict discipline; well-trained men, and brave too.

Suddenly Armstrong braced. ‘Cap’n Fairbrother’s coming in at a fair lick, sir!’

Hervey got to his feet. Fairbrother was a furlong off, his horse flattening. ‘Stand to, Sarn’t-major. Trumpeter!’

Armstrong was gone in an instant, barking words of command like a jack-corporal at his first picket. Trumpeter Roddis came running, bugle in hand, ready. He halted at attention and saluted. ‘Sir?’

‘Stand to your horses.’

‘Sir!’

It was a simple call: triplets and a minim repeated, all on C. As well, since Roddis was still unpractised.

Fairbrother galloped straight at them, reining back only in the last few yards. ‘Call in your scouts, Hervey: there’re Zulu on both flanks!’

Hervey didn’t hesitate. ‘Skirmishers in, Roddis!’

It took a second or so for the trumpeter to recollect the call, and then he began blowing for all he was worth.

‘Zulu on both flanks?’

‘Ay,’ said Fairbrother, slipping from the saddle and catching his breath. ‘Crawling so flat you’d have to run into them to see. That’s why the scouts didn’t.’

‘How—’

‘That hillock yonder’s bigger than you think. I thought as much from the length of the shadow at first light. And then the vultures started taking a look this way, as if they’d seen something. That’s when I saw them, running like monkeys on all fours, so flat as to be hid by the grass.’

Hervey rattled through his options. They were few. He could throw out a flank –
two
flanks – but that would avail him nothing if the Zulu were behind him … ‘How many do you suppose there are?’

Fairbrother shook his head. ‘No way of knowing. But it would make sense for Matiwane to send a column round each flank: a couple of hundred or more to each, I mean.’

Hervey was astounded. ‘You mean there might be five hundred Zulu, unseen?’

‘I do.’

That settled it. His force was too weak to deal with an encirclement in such strength. And the rest of the
impi
would no doubt be readying to hurl itself in a frontal attack. ‘Hammer on anvil,’ he said ruefully.

Lieutenant Fearnley and Captain Welsh were soon come up. Hervey was emphatic: ‘We retire at the trot, Rifles leading!’

Colonel Somerset was waiting at the ford of the Ox River as they approached. Hervey had led with the Rifles since he judged it too risky to dismount for rearguard action, the sabre handier therefore than the firearm. Once they had put a mile of veld behind them, the furthest distance he calculated a Zulu could have advanced unseen, he threw out skirmishers in a wide arc behind, sent Cornet Beauchamp back to the river to inform Somerset, and continued the retirement at the walk. From time to time a dragoon took a shot with his carbine and sent back word of a Zulu – or else some wild animal – in the long grass, but besides the advancing vultures there was no definite sign that Matiwane was following in strength.

Half a mile from the river Hervey ordered Lieutenant Fearnley to post a picket line and to mark his routes of withdrawal to the ford, and told the Rifles to prepare to cross to the far bank. Then he galloped for the ford to speak in person with the commander of the Kaffraria Field Force.