Company Of Spears

‘And should I. They communicate by messenger via Trompetter’s Drift. We’ll know if they’ve detected anything when we get there.’

Hervey looked thoughtful. ‘I think, Landdrost, you had better go yourself, had you not?’

The landdrost was uncertain. ‘I can scarcely leave you to wander the frontier, Colonel Hervey. I thought I would accompany you to Fort Willshire.’

‘Indeed, of course,’ conceded Hervey at once, ‘but the situation has changed markedly, as you yourself have said. Your influence at Graham’s-town will be – if I may say it – of considerably more profit than chaperoning me here. It’s not as I would have wished, but there’s opportunity now for a meeting with the Xhosa, and I would observe them closely. Indeed, it is a quite exceptional opportunity.’

The landdrost looked troubled. ‘Colonel, with respect, you cannot treat with the Xhosa as did Lord Charles Somerset, believing them to be honourable men.’

Hervey smiled a little. ‘I have no intention of doing so, not until they are capable of proving it beyond question – which I don’t imagine for one minute they will be able to do. No, I think we may bring them to a fight of sorts, and then see how they acquit themselves.’

‘You will deliberately bring on a fight, Colonel Hervey?’

Hervey smiled again, but wryly. ‘I should rather they gave back the boy and the cattle without a fight, but in the circumstances I hardly expect they will. I shall be most careful in it, I assure you!’

The spoor of a hundred or more head of cattle was not difficult to follow. In any case, Fairbrother was certain the Xhosa must drive them due east to begin with, for they could not afford to go near the post at Trompetter’s Drift. At this time of year, he explained, the river would be full but not swollen, and there were several deep fords downstream of the drift. There were two other rivers the Xhosa must cross before getting to relative haven the other side of the Keiskama, he said, pointing them out on his own much-embellished map. The Baka River was the greater obstacle – greater even than the Keiskama, though not as extensive – and he reckoned the Xhosa would want to make its banks by nightfall to be able to ford it at dawn; or perhaps even to attempt a crossing after dark since the moon was so full. It was about twenty miles, easily within a day’s march for the Xhosa, even driving a hundred head of cattle. However, although the first river after the Fish, the Gwalana, was not much of an obstacle, it might slow them down more than they were prepared to accept: tired, thirsty cattle could become unmanageable when suddenly presented with water. In which case, Fairbrother argued, the Xhosa would be more likely to head north-east after crossing the Fish, skirting the muddy source of the Gwalana, and then continuing north-east to the Keiskama. So, if instead of tracking them across the Fish they rode fast for Trompetter’s Drift, changed horses, and then made for the head of the Gwalana, they would intercept the Xhosa rather than merely trying to catch them up.

They rode hard on this prediction, reaching Trompetter’s Drift in the middle of the afternoon. Here they changed horses, and Hervey, concerned lest the Xhosa were taking the different course, ordered the post serjeant to send men to patrol the far bank of the Gwalana. They then rode on without rest, reaching the muddy head of the Gwalana an hour and a half later.

‘I think we must remain mounted at all times,’ said Fairbrother as they approached the darker scrub about the headwater. ‘The Xhosa would fancy themselves superior in any fight, but they know they can’t out-run a horse.’

Hervey saw no reason to dispute it. He was, in fact, surprised by the thickness of the bushveld here, and the thorns and tangled grass. The country had been getting trappier by the mile since they crossed the Fish, but here it was so trappy they were obliged to follow animal trails – and much to Hervey’s unease, for he imagined a charging elephant or rhinoceros would deal horribly with half a dozen men and horses in single file. Moreover, the country was ideal for ambush; he was grateful for the saddle’s extra height.

‘I’m beginning to wonder if the notion of mounted rifles is a sound one,’ he said, as if turning the idea over in his mind as he spoke.

‘As long as they’re trained to fire from the saddle as well as on foot, they should serve,’ replied Fairbrother measuredly. ‘The country’s not universally close, as we saw. And the Xhosa throw their spears, they don’t thrust them home – not unless their situation’s desperate. I should say that the rifle is the very best way to hold them off.’