Zulu Hart (33 page)

Chelmsford leant down to inspect a couple of the firearms. Some were muskets, some rifles, but all were muzzle-loaders. ‘They’re all obsolete,’ said Chelmsford, shaking his head. ‘Ask him what he’s done with his best weapons.’

The Zulu looked indignant. ‘These are my best weapons, and I don’t surrender them lightly. Cetshwayo has sent an
impi
to eat me up, but it has not yet arrived. It is said to be camped to the right of Siphezi Hill.’

Fynn translated, but omitted to mention the last important detail, causing George to intervene. ‘He also confirms, my Lord, what the old Zulu told me yesterday: that the main
impi
spent last night at Siphezi, which is barely twenty miles distant.’

‘I wouldn’t believe a word he says,’ said Fynn. ‘How could Cetshwayo know of his plans to surrender? I suspect he’s feeding us false intelligence so we’ll look in the wrong place.’

‘My Lord,’ persisted George, ‘might it be possible the chief is telling the truth? He is, after all, a younger brother of Chief Sihayo and could be hoping to take his place as the head of the tribe.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Fynn. ‘He’s obviously a plant. You’ve only got to look at the quality of the weapons he’s brought in to deduce that. They can’t be the best he has.’

Ill feeling crackled across the tent between George and Fynn. George felt himself almost bursting with the frustration of his knowledge.

‘Crealock,’ said Chelmsford, ‘what do you think?’

‘I agree with Fynn. All our previous intelligence indicates that Cetshwayo’s
impi
is intending to link up with Chief Matshana in the Mangeni Gorge. This mention of Siphezi Hill could be a deliberate attempt to lure us away from there.’

‘I believe you’re right,’ nodded the general. ‘If Gamdana really was prepared to betray his brother and his king, his life would be forfeit. Get the blackguard out of my sight.’

‘Is he to be held prisoner, my Lord?’ asked Fynn.

‘No, I can’t spare the men to guard him. Just tell him to leave.’

‘Is that wise, my Lord?’ asked Crealock. ‘He’s seen the layout of the camp. If he means to play us false he could pass this information to the Zulu commanders.’

‘I hope he does, but I doubt it will make a difference. Their strategy is to avoid a pitched battle; ours is to bring one on. And to do that we’ve got to winkle them out of their hiding places. Talking of which, is there any word from Major Gossett?’

‘Not yet, my Lord,’ said Crealock.

‘Damn. I want to scout the Nqutu Plateau to the north of the plain this afternoon, so leave word in camp of our whereabouts. And get rid of them,’ said Chelmsford, nodding towards the waiting Zulus.

George rose from his seat and led Gamdana and his men out of the tent.

‘You look familiar,’ said the chief, studying George’s face.

‘I came to kwaSoxhege last year.’

‘You’re the white Zulu who tried to save Nandi?’

George nodded.

‘Is that why you’ve come with the white soldiers now, for revenge?’

‘Maybe.
But tell me, cousin, why you’re here rather than with your people.’

‘Because I don’t wish to see my kraals destroyed. We can’t win this war. Our only hope is to submit before it’s too late.’

‘I apologize for the way you were treated in there. My chief doesn’t believe you’ve come in good faith. He thinks you’re out to mislead us.’

‘Then he’s a fool. Cetshwayo’s
impi
is near. Tomorrow it will fight.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know. It will strike anywhere it sees a weakness. Now I must go. Without British protection I’m a dead man.’

It was gone three o’clock, much later than intended, by the time Chelmsford and his staff reached the Nqutu Plateau, having ascended the broad spur that connected it to the north end of Isandlwana Hill. They rode east, across a broken, difficult terrain strewn with rocks and boulders, and had covered about two miles when a frantically waving rider was seen to their left. It was Major Gossett. He cantered over to Chelmsford, drew rein and saluted.

‘My Lord, I’ve just come from Major Dartnell. About an hour ago his scouts made contact with a large force of Zulus, about fifteen hundred, on the neck of a hill close to the Mangeni Gorge. He doesn’t think he’s strong enough to attack them on his own, so has asked Commandant Lonsdale to join him. He requests permission to stay out overnight so he can keep an eye on the Zulus.’

Chelmsford smiled broadly. ‘Do you hear that,
gentlemen
? It seems Dartnell has made contact with Matshana’s men, and possibly even the vanguard of Cetshwayo’s army, just as Fynn predicted. Of course he must stay out. Crealock, arrange for rations to be sent out on pack horses, and send Dartnell a written order to attack as and when he thinks fit.’

‘Shall I send Hart, sir?’ asked Crealock.

‘No, send a mounted infantryman. I need Hart with me.’

The patrol continued for a further mile along the plateau until it reached the furthest cavalry outpost, consisting of two Carbineers from George’s regiment, on the crest of a hill known as iThusi. Asked by Chelmsford if they had anything to report, they pointed to some high ground a further three miles to the northeast where, clearly outlined against the horizon, could be seen a number of Zulu horsemen. George counted fourteen.

‘How long have they been there?’ asked
Chelmsford.

‘About an hour, this time,’ answered the senior of the two Carbineers, a freckle-faced corporal called Pearce. ‘They keep coming and going.’

‘Have you reported this?’

‘We have, sir, more than once.’

Chelmsford turned to his civilian advisor. ‘What do you make of it, Fynn?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, my Lord. It’s probably just Sihayo’s men trying to work their way round to his kraal to assess the damage. They’re among the few Zulus who ride horses.’

‘I see. Could they be acting as scouts for the main Zulu
impi?’

‘They could be,’ said Fynn, ‘but then they wouldn’t be heading in that direction. All my intelligence indicates that the main
impi
is heading southeast towards the Mangeni Gorge, and if we take Dartnell’s report at face value, it might already be there.’

‘Yes, well, just to be on the safe side I’ll send out a patrol to the northeast first thing in the morning. It wouldn’t do to be caught on the hop.’

Back at camp an hour later, Chelmsford received further hints that the Zulu army was near. The first was a message from the commandant of one of Lonsdale’s battalions, timed at one o’clock that afternoon. It read:

 
Sir,

While, skirmishing along the southern edge of the Malakatka range,

 
my
men captured, two Zulus who, under interrogation, claimed to have left

 
the
main Zulu army in the vicinity of Siphezi Hill earlier today to visit

 
their
mother. I thought you should know. I’m sending this message back

with
forty cattle that we’ve also managed
 
to capture.

I
 
am
,,
 
etc,

(Gorge, Hamilton Browne,
,Comdt
, 1st/3rd NNC

The second was a verbal report from the young lieutenant of the Imperial Mounted Infantry who had led that day’s patrol to Siphezi. ‘We saw no Zulus until the ride back to camp, my Lord,’ stated the officer as he stood rigidly to attention in Chelmsford’s headquarters tent, his white sun helmet under his arm.

‘How many were there?’ asked the general.

‘I’d say about thirty on foot, and eight on
horseback
. They tried to cut us off, but we galloped round them, shooting a couple in the process.’

‘Any casualties?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Well done, Lieutenant. That’ll be all.’

Chelmsford stood up from his canvas chair and began to pace round the tent. Silently watching him were the senior members of his staff, Crealock and Gossett, as well as Fynn and George. At last Chelmsford spoke. ‘A number of reports suggest the main Zulu army
was
in the vicinity of Siphezi Hill, and probably camped near there last night. The hill is, of course, on the direct route from the Zulu capital to here and is an obvious stopping-off point for the
impi
as it advances. The question
is,
where is the
impi
now?’

Fynn spoke first. ‘I’ve heard nothing to change my original assessment. The Zulu
impi
plans to hide in the broken ground to our southeast, and is either there already or en route. It makes complete sense for it to camp at Siphezi before heading south towards the Mangeni Gorge.’

‘Crealock?’

‘I agree, sir. The force discovered by Dartnell is probably part of that army. Certainly we’ve had no sighting of any significant body of warriors to the north of Siphezi.’

‘Gossett?’

‘I’m largely in agreement, sir. My only qualm is the presence of those mounted Zulus to the north of Siphezi. Given King Shaka’s reputation as a master of deception and surprise, is it not possible that the current generation of Zulu commanders are trying to emulate him by splitting their forces and appearing where least expected?’

‘What exactly are you trying to say, Gossett?’ asked Chelmsford.

‘That the Zulu army was indeed at Siphezi last night, but since then it has divided into two wings, one moving to the north, hence the mounted scouts, and one to the south.’

‘Why would it weaken itself by choice?’

‘I don’t know, sir; possibly because it would then be in a position to attack us from two directions at the same time, a favoured Zulu tactic.’

I couldn’t have put it better myself, thought George. But would Chelmsford be swayed?

The answer was no. ‘I’m afraid, Gossett, you misunderstand these natives. Put them up against another tribe and they’ll show dash and aggression, but not against white troops. They know they can’t withstand our firepower. It was the same on the Cape frontier.’

George wanted to scream,
We’re
not on the Cape frontier; the Zulus are different.
But Crealock was fixing him with a hard stare, and so complete was the hold that he and Fynn had over the general that George doubted any outburst or accusation from a second lieutenant would make a difference.

Chelmsford, meanwhile, seemed satisfied that he had everything in hand, and was about to bring the meeting to a close when a man entered the tent in the black uniform and white spiked helmet of the Natal Mounted Police.
‘A message from Major Dartnell, sir.’

Having read it, Chelmsford smiled broadly. ‘Gossett, you can put your mind at rest because it seems Fynn was right all along. The major has reported an increase in the size of the Zulu force opposite him to several thousand. It can only be the main Zulu army, and Dartnell wants to know if I think it prudent for him to attack the following morning.’

‘I think he should, sir,’ said Crealock, ‘before the Zulus have a chance to melt into the hills.’

‘But if it is the main Zulu army,’ said Gossett, ‘shouldn’t we send some of the imperial infantry to support him?’

‘No,’ said Crealock, ‘it’s too far and too late in the day.’

‘I agree,’ said Chelmsford. ‘Put in the reply, Crealock, that Dartnell is to judge for himself if and when he should attack. We’ll wait and see what transpires and, if necessary, we’ll move out with the infantry first thing.’

George left headquarters in a fury and headed straight for the camp of the 2nd/24th Regiment. He needed to speak to Jake, to warn him that a Zulu attack was imminent, but he could find no sign of him or any other G Company officer.

‘They’ve just taken over picket duty from us on the camp perimeter,’ explained a young subaltern called Mainwaring at the entrance to the officers’ mess-tent. ‘And very welcome they were too. We didn’t expect to be relieved until the morning.’

‘Where exactly are they?’

‘They’re about half a mile to the camp’s right front, due southeast. You can’t miss them.’

It was a chill, clear evening, and as George picked his way across the dark, rock-strewn plain he felt heartily sorry for Jake, cold and exposed on the camp’s outer perimeter while his fellow officers were safe and warm in their mess. He looked back at the huge tented camp, undefended but for a thin string of outposts, and wondered again at Chelmsford’s folly. Behind it
rose
the dark menace of the leonine mountain, like a beast waiting to pounce.

He found Jake and two privates huddled round a small fire. ‘Hello, George,’ said Jake, looking up as he approached. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I need to speak to you in private.’

‘All right.
I won’t be long,’ said Jake to his men. ‘Keep your eyes peeled.’

Jake led George out of earshot, taking care to avoid the thorn bushes that ringed his position. ‘I can’t be away from my post long. What is it?’