Zulu Hart (34 page)

‘You remember I told you about Fynn and Crealock’s plan to destroy Chief Matshana and sell his cattle?’

Jake nodded.

‘Well, it’s about to come to fruition. They’ve convinced Chelmsford to ignore all intelligence to the contrary and focus on Matshana’s stronghold in the Mangeni Gorge. While he’s been doing that, the Zulu army has been creeping ever closer and may well attack tomorrow.’

‘Attack where? Here?’

‘I don’t know.
Either the camp or the detachment in the hills, maybe both at the same time.’

‘What have you heard?’

‘Reports have been coming in all day that the main Zulu army camped last night near Siphezi Hill. That’s under a day’s march from here. We’ve also received word from Dartnell that he’s located a sizeable Zulu force near the Mangeni Gorge. About an hour ago he sent a second message, saying the hostile force had grown to several thousand. If it is the vanguard of Cetshwayo’s
impi,
then I don’t give him and Lonsdale much hope of survival.’

‘This doesn’t make any sense. If Chelmsford knows the detachment has come up against strong opposition, why hasn’t he either recalled him or sent out infantry reinforcements?’

‘Good question. Gossett suggested sending either yours or the First Battalion, but Crealock persuaded Chelmsford it was too late in the day. My feeling is that Crealock and Fynn want Dartnell to take some casualties so that Chelmsford has no option but to march to the Mangeni Gorge and destroy Matshana’s force. If the imperial infantry arrives too soon, the Zulus might not give battle.’

‘Yes, I see that. But what makes you think the Zulus might attack the camp?’

‘Only that this afternoon, from iThusi Hill, I saw mounted Zulus on high ground to the northeast. It might be nothing. But if they’re scouts from the main Zulu army it could indicate that at least part of Ceshwayo’s
impi
marched north from Siphezi and not south.’

‘What was Chelmsford’s reaction?’

‘He ignored it, because Fynn has managed to convince him that the Zulus will hide in the hills to the southeast. Dartnell’s messages have simply confirmed for him that Fynn was right.’

Jake sighed. ‘So what can we do?’

‘I don’t know. If I try to speak to Chelmsford I’ll be cutting my own throat.’

‘I could try.’

‘You could, but even if you
do
manage to get past Crealock and speak to Chelmsford in private, he’d never believe you. Let’s just hope I’m wrong about all this. In the meantime, stay vigilant and make sure your men do the same. The Zulus could attack at any time, though you’re probably safe at night.’

Jake
smiled,
his white teeth just visible in the gloom. ‘That’s good to hear. Sleep well.’

‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that.’

Central Column’s camp, Isandlwana,
22
January 1879, 1.30 a.m.

George woke to the sound of muffled voices in Chelmsford’s tent next door. He listened hard and could just make out Crealock’s voice. ‘Is Major Clery to issue orders to Colonel Durnford?’

‘No,’ replied Lord Chelmsford, ‘you do it.’

George sat up and lit a candle. Something serious must have happened for orders to be issued in the middle of the night - but what? George pulled on his trousers and boots and went outside. It was a pitch-black moonless night, the only light coming from his tent and that of the general. He reached the entrance to Chelmsford’s tent as Crealock was leaving, lamp in hand.

‘Ah, Hart,’ said Crealock with a smile. ‘I was about to rouse you.’

‘Sir?’ asked George guardedly.

‘We’ve just received a message from Dartnell saying that the enemy is gathering in increasing numbers and he didn’t feel strong enough to attack them in the morning without white troops. His Lordship is convinced it’s Cetshwayo’s
impi
and has given orders for the Second Twenty-Fourth Regiment, four of the six guns and all the remaining mounted troops to be ready to march at daybreak. He also wants Durnford to move up from the supply depot at Rorke’s Drift to reinforce the camp. I need you to carry the order.’

I bet you do, thought George; with me out of the way there’ll be no one to interfere with your plans. But Chelmsford had other ideas: ‘No, not Hart,’ came a cry from inside the tent. ‘I need him with me tomorrow and he’ll never get back from Rorke’s Drift in time. Send that transport officer - Smith-Dorrien I think he’s called. He’s been up and down that track countless times and should know it like the back of his hand. ‘

‘Very good, sir.’

‘A lucky escape for you, Hart,’ said Crealock, contemptuously. ‘I can’t imagine you’d have enjoyed a night ride to Rorke’s Drift with the Zulus so near. You can at least deliver the message to Lieutenant Smith-Dorrien. He’s sharing with Lieutenant Coghill, beyond the column office. Tell him,’ said Crealock, handing over a folded piece of paper, ‘he’s to hand this to Colonel Durnford in person.’

Even with a lamp, George had trouble finding the tent. By the time he did manage to locate it, curiosity had got the better of him and he paused to read the message:

You are to march to this camp at once
with
 
all
 
the force
 
you have

with
 
you
of
 
No. 2 Column. 2nd/24th
,
 
Artillery
and mounted
 
men with

the
general and Colonel Glyn to move off at once to attack a Zulu

force
about ten miles distant.

George thought it odd that there was no specific mention that Durnford was to reinforce the camp, much less to take command, but knew it was too late to do anything about.

Having delivered the message to a bleary-eyed Smith- Dorrien, George returned to his tent and lay on his campbed fully clothed. He found it impossible to sleep, and was still working through the various scenarios for the following day, from a full-scale battle in the hills to no action at all, when a lone bugle sounded Reveille. It was 3 a.m., and as he got up it suddenly occurred to George that Jake’s was the only company from the 2nd/24th on outpost duty and, as such, would probably be left behind with Colonel Pulleine’s five companies of the 1st Battalion and the four companies of the NNC - barely 1,300 men in all - to defend the camp. He prayed to God that they were not attacked.

The relief column left at sun-up and quickly split into two parts: George riding ahead with Chelmsford, his staff and a small escort of mounted infantrymen;
Glyn remaining
behind with his staff and the slower-moving redcoats as they plodded, four abreast, towards the hazy purple of the high ground that led to the Mangeni Gorge. A heavy mist hung over the hills, but it was beginning to clear by the time Chelmsford and his horsemen reached Dartnell’s bivouac on a grassy ridge, a couple of miles short of the gorge, at a little after 6.30. The group dismounted and, with barely a word of greeting, Chelmsford asked an exhausted-looking Dartnell, his eyes hollow and his moustache unkempt, where the enemy was.

Dartnell looked apologetic as he pointed to the hill opposite, where a few Zulus and some smouldering campfires were all that were visible.

‘That’s what’s left of the huge
impi
you reported?’ asked Chelmsford, his tone incredulous.

‘They must have moved off under the cover of darkness, my Lord.’

‘That’s stating the obvious,
Major
. So where are they now?’

‘I don’t know, sir.’

‘You don’t know! Why haven’t you dispatched mounted patrols to find out?’

‘We didn’t get much sleep, sir. Lonsdale’s Kaffirs thought we were being attacked and stampeded off the hill, waking the whole bivouac.’

Chelmsford turned to Lonsdale, who also looked the worse for wear after a night sleeping rough. ‘Is this true, Rupert?’

‘It is, my Lord. The officers did their best, but the men were in a panic and wouldn’t listen. It took about an hour to round them up.’

Chelmsford rubbed his forehead. ‘That’s all very well, Major Dartnell, but it doesn’t excuse your failure to keep in contact with the enemy. He can’t have just disappeared. Send out patrols immediately and find him.’

‘My Lord,’ interrupted Fynn, who was standing a little apart from the main group, ‘I think I’ve found what you’re looking for. Over there.’

All eyes followed the direction of Fynn’s gesture beyond the hill with the campfires to some high ground at least two miles further on, where hundreds of tiny figures were moving antlike across a plateau towards a spur that ran down into the Mangeni Gorge. ‘Do you think it’s the main
impi,
Fynn?’ asked Chelmsford.

‘I’m certain of it, my Lord.’

‘In that case we’ll attack at once. Rupert, send your two battalions to occupy the spur they’re heading towards. If the Zulus get there first, drive them off it. Dartnell, your men will cover Lonsdale’s right flank.’ He then turned to George. ‘Ride back to Glyn and tell him to direct the guns and the infantry up the valley to the left of the spur. With a bit of luck we’ll catch them in a pincer attack and crush them. The Mounted Infantry are to cover Glyn’s left flank.’

George saluted, mounted Emperor and picked his way back down the hill. He was far from convinced that the force they had seen was the main Zulu
impi.
It was not big enough, for a start, though how many warriors lurked behind the high ground was impossible to tell. That, though, was surely the point. Chelmsford thought he had located the main
impi,
but he could not know for certain. What if, as George feared, it
bad
split into two halves at Siphezi, one marching north, the other south? That would still leave at least 10,000 warriors in a position to threaten the unsuspecting camp. It did not bear thinking about.

Fifteen minutes of hard riding brought him up to the head of the column. Having delivered Chelmsford’s message to Glyn, he returned to the bivouac site and arrived just as the Zulus were retiring in the face of Lonsdale’s advancing battalions, off the spur and back towards Siphezi Hill. ‘You see, my Lord,’ said Fynn to Chelmsford, ‘I told you they wouldn’t stand.’

‘Yes, it’s just like the frontier war. Ah, Hart, there you are. How soon will Glyn’s men be in position?’

‘Not for another thirty minutes at least, sir.’

‘Damn. With the Zulus in full retreat they’ll arrive far too late to spring our trap. Oh well, we’ll just have to follow them up and hope for the best.’

For the next two hours the Zulus continued their withdrawal from the spur above the Mangeni Gorge in scattered bodies of men, ranging in size from ten to 500, disappearing from one hilltop and reappearing on the next. It was like chasing shadows and, with the sun now high in the sky, the infantrymen were soon red-faced and sweating as they toiled up the valley in their heavy serge tunics. The only fighting took place on the left of the advance, close to Matshana’s stronghold in the gorge, where Offy Shepstone and the Natal Carbineers managed to cut off about 300 warriors who took refuge in some caves. The task of flushing them out was given to the Natal Contingent, and while this operation was underway, Chelmsford, Glyn and their respective staffs dismounted on a knoll to watch the main body of Zulus being pursued towards Siphezi Hill by the Mounted Infantry.

‘Bloody cowards,’ muttered Chelmsford as he peered through a telescope at the retreating Zulus.
‘All this effort for nothing.’

‘I wouldn’t say that, my Lord,’ said Crealock, a look of quiet satisfaction on his face. ‘We’re giving Matshana a good thrashing and, in the process, we’ve prevented Cetshwayo’s army from joining him and hiding in the hills.’

‘He’s right, sir,’ added Fynn. ‘Once we’ve polished off the rest of Matshana’s men and collected his cattle, we can get on with the rest of the campaign. We’ll be in Ulundi in no time.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Chelmsford.

Behind him, George shook his head at the sheer audacity of Crealock and Fynn in shaping a campaign for their own benefit. What the cost would be to the column, only time would tell. At that moment he spotted a lone rider approaching at speed from the valley below. As the rider crested the knoll, George recognized him as Trooper Will Devine of the Carbineers. His horse was on its last legs, its flanks coated with lather. George rushed forward to hold the trooper’s horse. ‘What is it, Will?’

‘A message from Colonel Pulleine,’ said Devine, as he slid off the horse. ‘Scouts have sighted Zulus advancing on the camp.’

‘How many?’

‘I don’t know.
Hundreds, maybe thousands.’

‘Let me see the message.’

Devine handed over a slip of light blue paper. It read:

Staff Officer,

Report just came in in that the Zulus are advancing in force from the left

front
of the camp
 
(8.05
 
a.m.).

H.B.
 
Pulleine
,
 
Lt
Col