The Kraals of Ulundi, page 11
Carey stood, left his cloak on the porch, took a last glance at the tents on the higher ground above the house. A ragged row of white fangs, gnashing against their guy ropes through the wind-driven rain. Colonel Davies had decreed that the drafts would remain in camp today until the storm passed, although Carey himself would likely be required for scouting duties later. So he had seized the opportunity offered by Griffin that the officers’ mess might join his family for morning prayers. Yet only Carey had accepted, risen early. No need to shave, of course, since he had given his whiskers free rein over the past weeks so that he now sported a full growth, wide and bushy as a Mopani tree. The sun was barely risen but the farm was already alive with its Indian labourers, and Griffin’s family gathered – squeezed, rather – into the living room. It was an amusing replica of an East End parlour, complete with Aspidistra. Yet it also touched something profound within Carey, recollections of his own family’s daily prayer sessions. Matthew Six, Verse Six.
‘“But thou,’” intoned Griffin, ‘“when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret.”’
Then thanks given. For the continued good health of the children here gathered, including the three older boys – Tommy, Edwin and Alfred – all volunteers now serving with the Victoria Mounted Rifles. Protection sought also for their guest, Lieutenant Carey, and for all those brave soldiers gathered near this place on God’s good work.
‘You were making the point,’ said Carey, when the final prayers had been offered, ‘that the blackies need licking into shape, sir?’
‘Can you doubt it, Lieutenant?’ said Griffin. ‘The Zulu is the stuff of our very worst nightmare. Their borders are no more than seventy miles from here, as the crow flies. No more than that. You can’t imagine what it’s been like. Sleeping on a volcano. Zulus quite out of hand. Crossing the borders whenever they choose. War parties on the rampage to settle their family squabbles. Quite outrageous. Then one of our surveyors seized and assaulted. It’s a very necessary war, Lieutenant, wouldn’t you say? And I thank the Lord that he has sent you all to deliver us from the savages.’
‘I met a Dutch gentleman,’ said Carey. ‘Mister Van der Byl. When we came ashore. Decent fellow, on the whole. But thought the war had rather been foisted on the Zulus. A pretext, he believed.’
‘It’s an old chestnut, Lieutenant. And the Dutch would say such a thing, eh? Thought they were going to have the Cape for themselves. The whole of South Africa if it comes to that. Well, they’ve had their eye wiped, and no mistake. And why not? It’s the British that will bring true civilisation to this country, Mister Carey. We’ll make Christians of them yet!’
‘I hear there are some among the British community who would be happy with Van der Byl’s view as well.’
‘What?’ said Griffin. ‘The Colensos?’
Carey recalled his father’s fury when the Bishop of Natal published the first of his treatises calling into question whether certain beloved books of the Old Testament should be considered as either literally or historically accurate. Although, ironically, Reverend Adolphus Carey would have been perfectly comfortable with John Colenso’s advocacy on behalf of the Zulu. Carey’s mother, on the other hand, had praised the Bishop’s enquiring mind, his search for truth, in relation to the Pentateuch and the Book of Joshua, yet condemned him as a Darwinian mountebank for his opposition to the war against Cetshwayo.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Among others.’ Good grief, he thought, it almost sounds like I share their views. ‘Though my mother sees him for what he is. A damned traitor.’
‘It makes me shudder now,’ said Griffin, ‘to think of the support we all gave when the Church attacked him for his views. Defended him to the hilt all through the court case when they were trying to get rid of him. He was our man, after all. That’s what we said. Even when they tried to set up MacRorie as a rival bishop in ’Maritzburg. Boycotted the fellow in favour of Colenso. But that’s all gone now. He still has his followers, of course. Though mainly his family. A few friends. If they love the bloody Zulus so much, they should go and live with them, that’s what I say.’
*
The sentry’s challenge was the merest formality, the soldier cocooned in his rain-battered greatcoat like some pupa clinging to the bole of the only African pine on the encampment’s edge, and Carey returned his salute with an equal lack of enthusiasm before ducking through the flap of a tent he shared with young Farrer. He shook a shower of silver droplets from his cape, picked up his rosewood writing slope, then put the cloak over his head to protect both himself and the precious Parkins & Giotto gift from his mother before sliding through the mud to the officers’ mess.
‘These boots won’t last the month,’ he said, attempting to stamp some of the mud from them.
‘Be careful, old boy,’ laughed Brander. ‘You’ll get the damned stuff everywhere. Oh, by the way, this is Alderton. He’s just come up from Durban.’
Carey identified the fellow as an Assistant Commissary, technically equal in rank to his own lieutenancy. But he had been schooled to believe that you should not rely on a Commissariat officer. They were never gentlemen and, therefore, an inferior breed. And this one, thought Carey, looks more inferior than most. The fellow was deathly pale, shivering with fever.
‘On my way to Bethlehem, of all places,’ said Alderton. ‘To purchase horses.’
There were predictable quips about stables and mangers.
‘You’ll be messing with us, Alderton?’ said Carey, aware of the disdain in his own voice. He might, himself, be long overdue for promotion but this fellow must be almost fifty.
Alderton coughed into his kerchief.
‘Afraid not,’ he said, wiping spittle from his lip. ‘I’ve lost two days already. Doctor Taylor, you know? Insisted I stayed in bed until the fever broke. If I crack on, I can get to Estcourt by nightfall. Then Bethlehem tomorrow.’
‘You’re planning to go on in this weather?’ said the Surgeon-Major, setting down a well-thumbed copy of the Cape and Natal News. ‘And in your state of health? I should strongly advise against it, sir. Strongly!’
But Alderton insisted that he would be fine. An hour’s respite and…
Carey set out the writing slope, took a sheet of paper, opened his ink.
‘Letter to the good lady wife?’ asked Brander. He was enjoying a cheroot, studying one of the sketch maps that Carey had completed just the day before.
‘Thought I’d take advantage of the rain,’ Carey replied, and leaned the photographs of Edith and baby Pelham inside the open pen tray.
‘And how long married, Carey? Almost nine years, didn’t you say? She must be a very special lady to keep you at the letter-writing after all that time. Where did you meet?’
‘Falmouth.’
‘Ah, sweet West Country.’
‘No,’ said Carey, fixing his gaze quickly upon the blank page so that he might avoid both Brander’s quizzical expression and, hopefully, any further questions. ‘Falmouth, Jamaica.’
My own treasure, my dearest Annie,
I am writing this letter to you in high spirits, seated at the very fine writing slope which Mama gifted to me before I left. I have in front of me the portraits of darling Edie and our little soldier, Pel. But I still grieve that I have no such remembrance of Jahleel junior. We are presently encamped upon the property of a most amiable gentleman, Mister Stephen William Griffin – though he is commonly known hereabouts as ‘Bill.’ I am quite jealous since God has granted him ten children and allowed him to keep them all. He must have led an entirely blameless life to be so blessed.
‘According to your sketch, Carey,’ said Brander, ‘Mister Alderton would need to get across this Bushman’s River to reach Estcourt. Is it passable, d’you reckon?’
‘It looked bad enough yesterday. Though I didn’t check all the drifts.’
‘I’m sure one of the locals will point me in the right direction,’ said Alderton, sipping at the most efficacious brandy that the mess and its Surgeon-Major could provide, the Grants Morella Cherry.
Carey smiled.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They’re sure to be helpful.’ He dipped the nib of his Fairchild once more and returned to the writing.
Still, my own one, I am determined that this campaign shall be the making of your poor husband, though I am still lacking news of promotion. I was assured before sailing that Johnson was to be appointed Paymaster and would have to resign his commission in order to do so. Colonel Sceberras could not promise me the step, naturally, but he gave me to believe that seniority would apply so that, by rights, the captaincy should be mine. Still, I must bear the thing patiently, I suppose, knowing that the Adjutant General’s Office has greater priorities just now than a single appointment within the 98th.
Farrer was involved with some of the others in learning the rules of poker, a game which Carey associated with American iniquity, though it seemed to have become popular with the British court these past few years.
‘Good Lord,’ said the young man, ‘have you ever heard rain come down so hard?’
It howled like a hundred banshees against the canvas of the marquee.
‘In Honduras,’ said Carey. It was an absent-minded comment, instantly regretted, followed by that familiar image of a jaguar pursuing him through dripping forest. He shook his head to clear it.
I have been out on patrol almost every day, scouting the roads ahead and rooting out decent camping ground, all of which I enjoy. There is a freedom here, dear Annie, that you would greatly savour. A true Garden of Eden. But there is a price to pay also, for which God, I trust, will forgive me. It is a wicked thing, but I have frequently been out so early in the morning that there has been no time to say my prayers, and I am often on duty throughout Sunday. Why, even Easter – two weeks ago, already – was a solitary affair. How I envy Reggie his service on the Triumph where, I know, they must rig for church every Sunday regardless of sea-state or other concern. I envy him his silver medal too, of course. From the Royal Humane Society indeed. My own reward from France seems positively modest by comparison! But Reggie also honoured for saving lives. Well, my sweet darling, you should know that your own husband has also been engaged once more in a similar endeavour. In truth, I merely helped to pull one of the men back into our little boat when we were escaping from the Clyde. Hardly a feat of great daring, though the fellow could have been eaten by sharks if I had not acted so. Yet he is considered such a worthless cove that my fellows here have ribbed me for not throwing him back. Hahaha! Eh bien, at least the rain today has allowed me to partake of the Griffins’ bible gathering this morning.
‘There’s a mention of Jamaica here in the paper,’ said the Surgeon-Major. ‘The Pelican, Carey. Been ordered from Port Royal to join the Pacific Station. This spat between Peru and Chile. All those nitrate mines of ours to protect, I suppose. D’you know her?’
‘The Pelican? No, I don’t think so. Who’s her skipper?’
‘Henry Boys, according to this. Says she’s a composite sloop, whatever that means.’
‘She’ll have an iron frame but a hull still built with timbers, teak most likely,’ said Carey.
‘You see, Alderton?’ Brander laughed. ‘Carey is our resident expert on all things naval. A long line of admirals. His mother’s side of the family, I think.’
‘Anybody famous, Carey?’ said Alderton. He was a heavy-set man, with an extravagant moustache and a deeply dimpled chin.
‘Sir Jahleel Brenton’s probably the best known, isn’t he?’ said the Surgeon-Major. ‘Fought some notable actions with his squadron against Old Boney, I recall. Naples, I think. Was he ever here, Carey? In South Africa?’
‘He served a spell as Commissioner of the dockyards at the Cape,’ replied Carey. ‘He died before I was born.’
‘Never tempted to follow in his footsteps?’ said Farrer.
‘I had my heart set on the army,’ said Carey.
Papa has never forgiven me for it, he thought. One would imagine it might be mother’s ambition. The navy’s in her blood, after all, not his. Yet because Pa wanted it so badly, she did everything in her power to discourage me. There were sounds of splashing in the mud outside, muttered curses, and the entrance flap drawn aside to reveal the Colonel’s drenched servant, Taylor.
‘Forgive the intrusion, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘But Colonel Davies requests the presence of Lieutenant Carey.’
Carey confirmed that he would join the Colonel in his tent immediately, then added a couple of hasty final lines.
Well, my dear treasure, Colonel Davies wishes to consult with me, so I will try and let you know a few words more over the coming days. Good night, my own one!
The manservant, Taylor, had a limp that Carey had not noticed before and was clearly in some pain.
‘Did you check on the horses?’ Colonel Davies directed the question towards the ceiling of his own marquee and Carey saw Taylor roll his eyes, exchange a glance with his fellow-footman, Joshua James, who was busy working on a pair of his master’s boots, supervised by the Colonel’s regimental orderly.
‘Which we did, sir,’ James replied. He had an odd manner of speech, which turned each ‘s’ into a strident sibilance. ‘Not half an hour past. Can’t be too careful, sir. Not with all them Hindus about.’
‘As you say, James,’ said the Colonel. ‘Good man. But half an hour, was it? Best have another look, I think. Make sure that Limerick is warm enough. Didn’t like the look of the old fellow last night.’
James muttered something, set down the boots and went to collect a rain cape from a stool near the entrance. He too was limping.
‘Blisters, sir?’ Carey asked the Colonel.
‘Who, James?’ said Davies. ‘Yes. Surgeon-Major is a good fellow but doesn’t seem to have a cure for the common blister. Strange, eh?’ There was a walking stick – stout, dark patina, baboon carved at the grip – leaning against the arm of the Colonel’s own campaign chair. He picked up the stick. ‘Here, James,’ he shouted. The fellow turned and Davies threw the thing towards him. James caught it.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said the servant. ‘Which it is very kind.’
He lifted the flap and ventured out into the storm.
‘Need to look after them, Carey,’ said Davies. ‘Horse and servant both. Horses mainly though. Can always find a decent servant, eh?’
‘Taylor has blisters too?’ Carey asked.
‘Taylor? No. Rheumatism in his case, I think. Isn’t that so, Taylor.’
‘All this rain, sir,’ said Taylor. ‘Mustn’t grumble though.’
‘“Do all things without murmurings and disputings.” That’s what the Good Book tells us.’ The Colonel stroked his sandy moustache. ‘And here’s the thing, Lieutenant. My weather eye tells me that this filthy stuff will break this afternoon. I’m never wrong about these things. So the men will have to be on the road at first light tomorrow. We must try to make up the time we’ve lost.’
‘You need me to go out, sir?’
‘We could rely on the maps you drew yesterday but I need to make absolutely sure of the crossings. Find us a good one, eh Carey? And decent ground at Estcourt too. Have to press on. Estcourt will put us half the way from Durban to Dundee. So Ladysmith in a few days.’
‘And Dundee four more after that, sir. Then hopefully some action at last.’
‘Maybe a cure for all these damned blisters too. Half the draft seems afflicted with them. But you make it sound like I’m not working you hard enough, Lieutenant.’
Carey felt deflated. Patient hard work was, after all, his trademark. God waits, he thought. It was the way in which he compensated for all the natural gifts which the Lord had so far failed to bestow upon him – the gifts which God seemed to have distributed so lavishly among the other members of his family.
‘“Whatsoever ye do,’” quoted Carey, ‘“work heartily, as unto the Lord.’”
‘“And not unto men,”’ said the Colonel. ‘Isn’t that how it ends, Carey? Colossians, I think. As unto the Lord, and not unto men. I fear that in the service we must sometimes balance our duties to God with those to our commanding officers, eh?’
‘I was thinking of action against the Zulu in particular, sir. Shame to come all this way and find that it’s over by the time we reach the column. There seems to be a common view among the settlers that Cetshwayo will surrender now. After Khambula.’
‘Wood performed very well,’ said the Colonel. ‘Very well indeed. Hardly a scratch on him. A score killed. Fifty wounded. Poor Hackett blinded, of course. They say that he still had that old pipe of his clenched between his teeth when he went down. A lucky shot from the blackies, I imagine. Unlucky for Hackett, of course.’
‘The Zulus still seem to have plenty of fight in them, sir. Don’t you think?’
‘Chelmsford will keep them on the run now. Any fight they have left will be sheer desperation. You’re right though. Shouldn’t underestimate them. Not again. Keep them on the run, that’s what we need. Stop them gathering together. Stop them settling down in their own kraals. I don’t think it will last much longer. But don’t worry, it will be just long enough for us to be in on the kill. Think of yourself as our best huntsman, Lieutenant. Find the right track for these hounds of ours. Get them on the scent of our fox, eh?’
‘I’ll do my best, sir.’
‘I’m certain of it, Carey. It seems that I’m rarely able to write a report without mentioning your name. It’s a mystery to me that you’ve been overlooked for so long.’
And the Colonel’s dispatches, Carey knew, this being a time of war, would each appear in the Gazette. His own sweet Annie would undoubtedly see them there and be proud of her husband. She would read them, he was certain, to the children. He was grateful to the Colonel, of course, though there was really only one item that he desired to see confirmed in the journal’s columns.
‘I wrote to my wife earlier, sir. As it happens, I mentioned to her that my company captain is likely to be accepted by the Army Pay Department. It might provide an opening, I hope.’
