Zulu Hart (35 page)

George wrote on it the time of receipt, 9.30 a.m., and handed it to Clery, who at once showed it to Chelmsford. The general briefly scanned the note, returned it to Clery and resumed his scan of the horizon.

His brow furrowed, Clery waited for a response, and when there was none he asked, ‘What is to be done on this subject?’

‘There is nothing to be done on that.’

Clery shrugged his shoulders in resignation and handed the note to Glyn, who also read it without comment.

George looked on aghast. The camp was clearly in danger from a sizeable, if unknown number of Zulus, and Chelmsford was behaving as if nothing had happened. He had to say something. ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘the camp may be under attack as we speak. Should we not return at once?’

‘Certainly not.
The note shows no sign of panic, nor does it request our presence. If our experience this morning is anything to go by, the Zulus will make a show of advancing and then retire. I hope they do attack the camp, but I doubt they will.’

‘But, sir, what if Pulleine’s scouts have sighted the main
impi?’

‘Impossible, my Lord,’
intervened
Fynn. ‘We’ve been chasing it for most of the morning.’

‘I agree, sir,’ said Crealock. ‘If we return to the camp now, we’ll have to break off our attack on Matshana’s stronghold. Pulleine can look after himself.’

‘Exactly so.
But there’s no harm in being certain, Crealock, so I want you to send two officers with telescopes up that tall hill opposite. They should be able to see the camp from there, and can report any enemy activity. In the meantime, let’s halt the troops for breakfast.’

‘An excellent notion, my Lord,’ said Crealock. ‘May I also suggest that we camp tonight in the Mangeni Gorge so that we’re well placed to finish off Matshana in the morning?’

‘Good idea. Send a galloper with instructions for Pulleine to send on tents and supplies.’

‘Yes, sir.
Shall I send Hart? That way he can verify the security of the camp for himself.’

‘All right, then.
But no dawdling, Hart.
You’re to return as soon as you’ve delivered the message.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said George, keen to get away. If the camp
was
being attacked, every second counted. With the message in his pocket, George swung into the saddle, dug in his spurs and was over the lip of the knoll and gone. It had taken Trooper Devine an hour and twenty minutes of hard riding to reach Chelmsford and deliver his message. George did the return journey in just over an hour, driving Emperor harder than he had hitherto dared in African conditions. As he passed the conical hill, two miles from the camp, he could see to his right large numbers of Zulus on the eastern end of the Nqutu Plateau, their shields and spears silhouetted against the clear blue sky. A chill of fear seemed to run up his spine as he realized he had been right all along: the Zulus
were
advancing on the camp.

He pressed on and, seeing the picket of G Company covering the track up ahead, George considered making a quick detour to his left to speak to Jake. But he knew that time was precious and so continued on through the picket towards the camp, where he could see a large body of black
horsemen
, obviously Durnford’s men, drawn up in front of the tents of the NNC. To their left, on the parade ground ahead of the main camp, stood the rest of the fighting troops, their uniforms a blur of dark blue, black and red.

In the camp itself, George felt no air of urgency. Large number of noncombatants — farriers, bandsmen, cooks, clerks, wagon-drivers and
voorlopers
- were going about their business as if the threat from the Zulus was neglible. There was no sign of a defensive laager, though a number of wagons on the nek beyond the camp were harnessed to their oxen, and no attempt had been made to lower the tents, standard procedure with a battle in the offing.

‘Where can I find Colonel Pulleine?’ shouted George to a cook of the lst/24th, stirring a
dixie
of food.

‘At the column office.’

George rode on, heading for the huge Union flag hanging limply from its pole, which marked the headquarters tents at the back of the camp. A handful of soldiers in various uniforms were loafing outside the white bell-tent that served as the column office. George dismounted, handed one his reins and hurried inside.

The tent was full of officers George knew - among them Lieutenant Melvill, the officer who had presided over Thomas’s flogging on the boat - but no one noticed his arrival. All eyes were fixed on the heated exchange between the two senior men, Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine and Colonel Durnford. The former was a thickset man of medium height, wearing the scarlet tunic and blue trousers of the lst/24th Regiment, and sporting impressive mutton-chop whiskers. Durnford was in his usual frontier garb of blue serge patrol jacket, scarlet waistcoat, dark cord breeches, boots and spurs. He wore a broad leather belt over his right shoulder and one round his waist, supporting a revolver holster and a hunting knife. In his left hand he was carrying a soft felt wideawake hat with one side of its broad brim turned up and a crimson turban tied round its middle. His magnificent moustache was, if anything, even droopier than George remembered.

‘I’m sorry, Colonel Durnford,’ Pulleine was saying, his jaw set, ‘I cannot agree to lend you two companies of infantry. My orders are to defend the camp.’

‘But damn it, man,’ replied Durnford, ‘you heard the latest message from the scouts on Isandlwana Hill. The Zulus are retreating, and it’s my duty to follow them up and prevent them from threatening Lord Chelmsford’s rear.’

‘We’ve been getting many reports, Colonel Durnford, and they don’t all concur. One minute we hear the enemy are advancing up the Nqutu Plateau in three columns, the next they’re retiring.’

‘All the more reason to go out and see for ourselves.’

‘Excuse the interruption,
gentlemen
,’ said George, pushing his way through the crowd. ‘I’ve just come from the general and as I passed the conical hill I didn’t see any sign that the Zulus on the plateau were threatening him. On the contrary, they seemed to be moving in this direction.’

Pulleine turned to face George. ‘Is Lord Chelmsford on his way back, Hart?’

‘No, sir.
He intends to camp tonight near the Mangeni and asks if you’ll send on the tents and supplies for the troops in the field.’

‘Didn’t he get my earlier message about the Zulus advancing in force?’

‘He did, but he didn’t consider it sufficiently urgent to warrant a retrograde movement. He thinks you’ve got enough men to look after yourself.’

‘Has he been in action himself?’

‘Yes, but it’s hard to tell whether they were Matshana’s men or part of the main Zulu
impi.
Most of them refused to give battle and retired on Siphezi Hill.’

‘So we can’t be sure we’re safe from attack?’

‘No.’

‘All the more reason, then,’ said Pulleine to Durnford, ‘not to send away any of my infantry on a wild-goose chase.’

‘Very well,’ said Durnford, ‘perhaps I had better not take them. I will go with my own men. Where’s Captain Barton?’

‘Here, sir,’ said a thin-faced officer with sandy hair.

‘Right, Barton, here’s the plan. I want you to take your two troops of
horsemen
up on to the Nqutu Plateau to our left front and drive any Zulus you find back down it and on to the plain. Meanwhile I’ll advance up the Ulundi track with the rest of the mounted men and rocket battery, and try to intercept the Zulus as they come down off the plateau. But you’ve got furthest to go, so you’d best set off now.’

Barton saluted and left.

Durnford looked at his pocket-watch. ‘It’s now eleven fifteen. Major Russell should be here soon with the rocket battery. We might as well have a spot of lunch while we’re waiting.
All right with you, Pulleine?’

‘Of course.
I’ll ask the cook to prepare some bread and cold meat.’

George looked around at the smiling faces with mounting apprehension. He seemed to be the only one present who regarded Durnford’s plan as more than a little foolhardy. Pulleine appeared happy enough now that his command had been left intact, while Melvill and Coghill were laughing at some private joke. Durnford himself was all affability as he briefed his junior officers between mouthfuls of sandwich and gulps of beer. George knew he had to say something before it was too late. ‘Excuse me,
Colonel,
may I have a word in private?’

‘I suppose so, Hart, but you’ll have to make it quick.’

They found a quiet spot outside. ‘Colonel,’ said George, ‘may I speak frankly?’

‘You may.’

‘I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, for obvious reasons, but I hope you’ll listen to what I have to say.’

‘Go on.’

‘I’m convinced the Zulus are about to attack the camp in force. If they do, your plan to intercept the Zulus 011 the plateau will leave the camp hopelessly exposed.’

‘And what makes you so convinced? You’re nineteen, for God’s sake, with barely a year’s military experience and your Zulu blood not withstanding - you know even less about Africa and its natives. I, on the other hand, have been in the army for thirty years and in southern Africa since seventy-two. I think I’m slightly better qualified to second- guess Zulu tactics.’

‘Maybe, Colonel, but this is not about second-guessing; it’s about protecting the camp. I spoke to Colonel Crealock, shortly after Lord Chelmsford issued the order for you to move here, and he was very specific about your task being to reinforce the camp.’

‘The order says nothing about me reinforcing the camp. I have it here,’ said Durnford, reaching for his top pocket.

‘I know what the order says, Colonel, and
I’m
telling you that Chelmsford’s intention was for you to supplement the camp’s garrison, and not go chasing after Zulu
impis
whose size and location you cannot be certain of. Pulleine’s orders are to act strictly on the defensive. As the senior officer you inherit those orders.’

‘What rot. My command is independent of Pulleine’s. Why, only a couple of days ago Lord Chelmsford said he wanted to use my column against Chief Matshana, which is what I intend to do now.’

George grabbed Durnford by the shoulders. ‘Listen to me: Chief Matshana is a red herring. The only reason Lord Chelmsford is blundering around the Mangeni Gorge is because Fynn has a personal score to settle with the chief. Those Zulus on the heights are not Matshana’s men, they’re Cetshwayo’s, and heaven knows how many are yet to show themselves.’

‘So you say,’ said Durnford, removing George’s hands, ‘but I don’t agree. This is my opportunity to influence this campaign, and I won’t throw it away by kicking my heels in camp. Why, the general himself said he was prepared to give a column commander
every latitude
when he was operating in an enemy’s country, even to the extent of disobeying orders.’

‘Well, that’s what you’ll be doing.’

‘Nonsense.
Show me,’ said Durnford, taking the order from his pocket and offering it to George, ‘where it says I’m to take command.’

‘It’s implied.’

‘Well, that’s not good enough.’

‘At least wait until the situation is a little clearer, until you hear back from Captain Barton.’

‘No. If I’m to take the Zulus in the flank, I must leave now.’

‘This is not just about you!’ yelled George, his temper snapping.

Durnford fixed him with an icy stare. ‘What did you
say?’

‘I
said
this is not just about you and your need to redeem your battered military reputation.’

‘How dare you talk about things you don’t
understand.
I did my duty at Bushman’s River Pass and have nothing to make amends for.’

‘Then why are you being so reckless? Do you need to prove something to Fanny?’

Durnford looked as if he could commit murder, but he made no move to strike George. Instead he said coldly, ‘I see no point in continuing this conversation. I’m riding out to engage the Zulus, and if your fluttering heart will permit, you’re welcome to accompany me.’

George ignored the insult. ‘My orders are to return directly to the general.’

‘Well, that’s where I’m heading.’

George hesitated. He had done his best, but Durnford would not be dissuaded. And maybe he was right; maybe the Zulus had thought better of attacking the camp. They would soon find out.

‘I’ll come with you as far as iThusi. If the route is clear, I’ll carry on to the general.’

‘Please
yourself
,’ said Durnford, turning away.

Back at the column office, Durnford was met by a grave- looking officer with a moustache and side-whiskers, wearing a dark blue patrol jacket and the blue trousers with the scarlet stripe of the Royal Artillery.

‘Ah, Russell, you’ve arrived. Grab a quick bite to eat and then take your battery and escort along the track that leads to Ulundi. I’ll ride ahead with two troops of horse. The Zulus are retiring along the Nqutu Plateau to the left of the track and we must make haste to outflank them.’