The Shangani Patrol (51 page)
Read The Shangani Patrol Online
Authors: John Wilcox
Fonthill stiffened. ‘De Sousa, the man known as Gouela?’
‘Yes, that’s the chap. He must be with Lobengula. The king says he will come in but he is concerned about what happened to the two
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who were killed at Tuli. He is also worried about where he could live in Bulawayo, his houses having been burned down.’ Jameson sniffed. ‘I think he is just playing for time, so I am mounting a patrol to go and bring him in. We are calling it the Shangani Patrol, for we believe Lobengula has gone up that way with the remnants of his army. Nothing too heavy: we shall ask for volunteers and I shall want no more than about three hundred men.’
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who were killed at Tuli. He is also worried about where he could live in Bulawayo, his houses having been burned down.’ Jameson sniffed. ‘I think he is just playing for time, so I am mounting a patrol to go and bring him in. We are calling it the Shangani Patrol, for we believe Lobengula has gone up that way with the remnants of his army. Nothing too heavy: we shall ask for volunteers and I shall want no more than about three hundred men.’
Fonthill whistled. ‘How many are supposed to be with the king?’
Rhodes intervened. ‘We don’t know accurately,’ he said. ‘Could be as many as three thousand, but after the hidings these impis have received in recent weeks, we don’t expect any real resistance. Three hundred good chaps will do the job well.’
And cheaply, Simon thought to himself. But Jameson was continuing.
‘I am putting Forbes in command, of course, with Wilson along as his deputy, but given that the rains are due to break any day now and the bush up there can be pretty thick, Rhodes and I would be most grateful if you, your Welshman and your tracker could go along to lend a hand. Particularly in scouting,’ he waved a hand airily, ‘and that sort of thing.’ He leaned forward again, almost conspiratorially. ‘To be frank, I am just a touch concerned about the friction between Forbes and Wilson, and the younger chap can be perhaps a little headstrong. Your experience and knowledge - not to mention the fact that you know the king personally - would be invaluable.’
‘I do hope you will say yes, Fonthill,’ added Rhodes from behind a curtain of smoke.
Fonthill’s mind flashed to two puff adders, a searing pain in his chest, a pockmarked face close to his and the smell of cheap pomade. A chance to settle the score?
‘Of course,’ he said.
‘Splendid,’ Rhodes and Jameson responded in chorus. And as though to seal the agreement, a sudden crash of thunder broke over the roof of the tent, and immediately a downpour sounded on the canvas overhead and filled the interior with a noise like a hundred war drums beating. The rains had begun.
Chapter 19
Fonthill’s jaw dropped in incredulity. ‘Rations for only three days!’ he repeated. His horse drooped its head in the sheeting rain and Simon pulled down his hat brim to protect his face. ‘That means we will be out of food by tomorrow. Whose stupid planning was that?’
‘Can’t be helped.’ Forbes’s face was set in stoical gloom. ‘There was little to spare back in Bulawayo and we had no time to go hunting before we set off. Jameson said we could live off the countryside.’
‘Not in this weather we can’t. Even if we’re lucky enough to get one buck, that’s not going to feed three hundred men. You know that, Forbes.’
‘Yes, well . . . Wilson was in charge of provisioning. We shall just have to go on short commons until this damned rain lifts. I’ve sent a message back to Bulawayo pleading for more rations.’
The two men, hunched on their mounts, were plodding at the head of the column as they headed northwards. Fonthill stole a glance behind him at the men straggling out behind. Three hundred volunteers had not exactly sprung forward from the ranks when Jameson had sent out his call. The men had been away from their homes for several months already, the lure of loot had receded, for Lobengula had taken his most prized cattle with him, and the prospect of tracking the king into the treacherous bush had little appeal. Every man knew what the rainy season meant: flooded trails, rivers in spate and general misery for travellers. Eventually a force of sorts had been gathered from the three columns, including that from the south, but these were not disciplined troops, and murmurs of discontent were already to be heard as the Shangani Patrol had passed through Inyati, which had been a station of the London Missionary Society. They found that the station had been wrecked and looted and it was clear that Lobengula had a large force with him. No-one knew exactly how far ahead he was, but he was out there somewhere, with a last impi covering his retreat. The uncertainty added to the mud and the unceasing downpour to unsettle the amateur soldiers pursuing him.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ exclaimed Forbes. He held up his hand to halt the column. The wagons are slowing us down terribly in this mud and we shall never catch the old devil at this rate. In any case, I am not at all sure that many of these chaps have got the stomach for a fight. Even if we catch Lobengula, I doubt if we have the spirit to bring him in.’
‘What do you intend?’
Forbes stiffened his back so that he sat erect in the saddle, despite the rain lashing directly now into his face. ‘I shall send the wagons back to Inyati to form a laager there with about half the men,’ he said. ‘They will be a fallback base for me and they can have the extra rations that should arrive from Bulawayo. Wilson and I will take the rest of the men - the best of ’em on the freshest horses - ahead in a flying column up to the Shangani to make contact with the Matabele. We will take whatever rations can be spared and it should be easier to hunt with this smaller number. Are you comin’ with us, Fonthill?’
‘Of course.’
The orders were transmitted, an overnight laager laboriously constructed, and early the next morning the column was split, with the wagons turning round heading south and one hundred and sixty mounted men riding north - heading straight into the steady rain.
Jenkins wiped the water from his moustache. ‘I ’ope you don’t mind me askin’, bach sir, but ’ow are we goin’ to bed down at night?’
‘No, 352, I don’t mind you asking.’
The Welshman let the subsequent silence hang for a moment, as the two rode on with the advance picket. ‘Yes,’ he said, eventually, ‘well now that we’ve established that you don’t mind me askin’, like, can you tell me ’ow we’re goin’ to bed down for the night.’
‘On the ground,’ Fonthill growled, ‘in the wet, in a square, in front of the horses to protect them.’
‘Ah, I see. There’s cosy then, isn’t it? Snugglin’ up to the ’orses in the rain. Glad I joined, I am.’
And so the patrol continued heading north, towards the Shangani river. Occasionally, spears were flung anonymously from the bush at the outriders, but no attack was made. The men were particularly vulnerable crossing the river beds, formerly just dried-up dongas but now bubbling with water as brown as cocoa, but Forbes banked on the Matabele sticking to their established tactics of only attacking from the bush. He was also unsure that he was near enough to the king’s party to provoke an attack.
‘Are we close to ’em yet, Fonthill, do yer think?’ he asked one evening, after Simon, Jenkins and Mzingeli had spent the day ranging ahead.
Fonthill shook his head. ‘No. I doubt it very much. Mzingeli here is following a faint spoor - faint because of course the damned rain is washing the tracks away. If we were near, the signs would be much clearer. And such a large body of men would leave a swathe of marks in the bush. We will know if we are near the king’s rearguard.’
‘Humph.’
Once again the men ate cold meat and fruit that night, for no fires could be lit under the continual downpour. Then, after posting guards, they all pulled their horses down, tied their groundsheets up to their own necks and lay down on the soaking ground on the outside of their mounts, facing the bush from which an attack would come, if it came. And once more it did not.
Next morning, however, was marked by a disturbance. Just after the patrol had begun its weary march forward, four men came galloping up from the rear. Fonthill was riding in the van again with Forbes and Wilson, and he saw that the little group was being led by a young officer, and that the man in the rear was covering the two in the middle with his revolver.
‘What the hell’s this?’ growled Forbes.
‘Look at this, sir,’ said the officer. He handed the major a damp hessian bag, the contents of which were clearly heavy, for the sack hung nearly to the ground. Forbes put his hand in and produced a gold sovereign, then another, and another.
‘What on earth . . . ?’
The officer nodded to the two men, whose heads were bent under their sodden hats. ‘These two are at the rear looking after the baggage ponies, sir. I went back to check on the rations for the day and found them with this sack. I reckon there could be as much as a thousand gold sovereigns in there. They were dividing them.’
‘Sovereigns?’ cried Wilson. ‘Out here - in a damned sack? Were they just lying about, or what?’
‘These two said, of course, exactly that. That they found them lying there. But I caught a glimpse of two Matabele slipping away back into the bush, and by the look of them, they were
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. More to the point, however, I found this note, scrunched up into a ball and obviously thrown away by these two troopers. I think it had been left by the
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, with the gold.’
inDunas
. More to the point, however, I found this note, scrunched up into a ball and obviously thrown away by these two troopers. I think it had been left by the
inDunas
, with the gold.’
Frowning, Forbes smoothed out the paper and read aloud: ‘“White men, I am conquered. Take this and go back.” He looked up. ‘It’s signed with a cross and a seal.’
‘May I see?’ Fonthill stretched out a hand. ‘Yes, that’s Lobengula’s seal. I recognise it.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘He is trying to buy us off. The poor devil is obviously at his wits’ end.’
Wilson face was a study in puzzlement. ‘But how would he have such a large amount of gold with him, out here in the bush?’
‘It must be part of the gold that Rhodes paid him,’ said Fonthill. ‘I brought it up to Bulawayo myself, many months ago.’ He gave a sad smile. ‘He never really had a use for it, you know. This must have been his last throw of the dice.’
Forbes turned to the two men. ‘Well, what have you got to say for yourselves, eh?’
The larger of the two men looked up. ‘Sure, it’s all a misunderstandin’, sir,’ he said in a strong Irish brogue. ‘We was just countin’ the money, your honour, to bring it forward to you, so we was.’
‘Here, wait a moment.’ Fonthill urged his horse forward. ‘Don’t we know each other?’ He reached forward and tilted back the hat brim of both men. ‘Well, well, well. Would you believe it.’
‘Do you know these two?’ demanded Forbes.
‘Oh indeed I do. As fine a pair of rogues as you will find in the whole of southern Africa, Major. Their names are Murphy and Laxer, and this is the second time they have tried to steal these sovereigns.’
‘Ah, your honour,’ Murphy adopted an ingratiating smile, ‘it’s good to see you again. No, sir, we was not stealin’ this time, I promise you. On me holy mother’s death bed I promise.’
‘They are thieves,’ repeated Fonthill. He related the story of the treachery of Murphy and Laxer on his journey to Bulawayo. ‘I suppose they joined up in the south in the hope of quick loot. Of all the men in this column, it is ironic that the
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should have picked out these two to give the money to. I suppose the messengers were frightened to come to the front of the column in case we shot them out of hand.’
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should have picked out these two to give the money to. I suppose the messengers were frightened to come to the front of the column in case we shot them out of hand.’
‘Thank you, Baxter,’ said Forbes to the young officer. ‘Tie the hands of these two villains, then take two reliable men and ride with them - and the sovereigns - back to Inyati to await trial. You will be responsible for the money and the prisoners. Good work, man. Off you go.’
He turned back to Fonthill. ‘It’s infuriating that we didn’t capture the
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. They could have told us how near we were to the king and how many men he’s got with him. D’yer think it’s worth going after ’em now?’
inDunas
. They could have told us how near we were to the king and how many men he’s got with him. D’yer think it’s worth going after ’em now?’
Simon wrinkled his nose. ‘I doubt it. This rain is washing everything away, and looking for two men in the bush will be like trying to pick up eels in a riverbed. But we must be reasonably hot on Lobengula’s heels, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown his money at us. My advice is to keep pressing on.’
That day proved unusually depressing. The rain had become no worse, but its unvarying intensity was eroding the spirit of the pursuers. None of the horsemen could find a way of sealing their bodies from the water that penetrated every nook and cranny of their oilskins, and moving in the saddle produced a chafing that grew worse with every mile. Many of the horses were now becoming blown, and Forbes was growing increasingly irritable at the pace of the advance. Even worse was his fear that he might be riding into an ambush. Had Lobengula crossed the Shangani, now only a few miles ahead, or was he waiting to attack as the crossing was attempted?
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