Company Of Spears

It was the usual practice, so long as the enemy could not get wind of the move: not an easy thing to manage even with some distance between the lines, so to speak. Here, where the Xhosa might rush in from no further than the spear’s flight, and with the moon set, it would be the very devil of a fight. No, Hervey’s instinct was to let the dawn come, when they would then have the advantage of their firearms. He shook his head. ‘We’ll stand to as if defending our position, Corporal Wainwright.’ And then, fearing he had exposed his own doubts too much, he half smiled. ‘It’s of no matter. I do not count the Xhosa especially brave. Had they pressed a little more determinedly we should have been caught, I think. There cannot have been but the three of them.’

‘I reckoned so too, sir. But I think as I should do the scouting in the morning. If they gets behind us tonight then I don’t think the pandours’ll be right. I mightn’t know the country as well as them, but I’d do a better job if it comes to another fight.’

Hervey put a hand to Wainwright’s shoulder. ‘I don’t doubt it – than both of them combined. Very well. And you’ll take the first watch, until midnight?’

‘Sir.’

‘Good man.’ Hervey turned; but then he had second thoughts. ‘We’ve come a long way since that morning on Warminster Common, have we not, Corporal Wainwright?’

‘Sir.’ Wainwright smiled ruefully. ‘And not yet five and twenty.’

Hervey had not considered it. ‘Indeed?’

‘Tomorrow, sir.’

‘The strangest thing!’

‘There’s not been too many birthdays since the Common when I haven’t heard a shot, sir.’

‘The devil!’

‘But I reckon it must be the same with you, sir.’

Hervey knew it, but he doubted he had ever been in such position: no notion of where or how many the enemy, and so little with which to defend himself – and his reputation. He smiled back, dutifully. ‘What should we do with peace, eh, Corporal Wainwright?’

‘Ay, sir,’ replied his coverman, just as dutifully.

Hervey nodded, fixing him with a look that said everything that would not be permitted in words, and then turned and stepped sharply to where Johnson was crouching by the pack saddles.

Johnson stood and held out a mess of tea. ‘Just mashed.’

Hervey took it, again with but a nod. It had been more times than either of them could count: Johnson’s ability to make tea in the most unpromising conditions seemed rarely short of miraculous. There had been tea before dawn on the morning of Waterloo, when the rain had lashed down all night (Hervey reckoned there could have been few general officers so favoured), and Johnson had since perfected what he called his ‘patent storm kettle’, first fashioned ten years ago in an Indian bazaar. It was rather easier now to get a flame, though: no need of flint and tinder-box with Mr Walker’s new sulphur friction matches.

‘Thank you, Johnson. You must remind me, when we get back to England, to see if Welch and Stalker will give you a pension for your storm kettle.’

‘Ay, right, sir. So tha does think we’ll get back then? Ah sort o’ thought we’d end up ‘ere wi’ an ass’s thing up us arse.’

Hervey could not have suppressed the smile if he had tried. ‘Assegai.’

‘Summat sharp, any road.’

Hervey shook his head. ‘Johnson, after all we’ve seen, I don’t think we shall meet our end by a gang of cattle reivers carrying spears.’

‘Well, ah’m right glad tha’s sure on it, sir. Them spears looked the job to me. Wouldn’t ‘ave managed if Cap’n Fairbrother ‘adn’t got in first. Ah reckoned ah weren’t long for this world.’

Hervey was determined to be bright. ‘Oh, I think “Guard” and then “Cut One” would have done the business.’

Johnson frowned. ‘Well, ah’m right glad tha’s sure on ‘t, sir. Does tha want any snap?’

Hervey nodded. ‘I think I’ll have one of those corn cakes. Has Captain Fairbrother had anything?’

‘Ah took ‘im some tea, but ‘e said ‘e didn’t want owt else. ‘E’s been cleanin them guns o’ ‘is since we stopped.’ He shook his head. ‘That blackie’s poorly, sir. Ah tried to give ‘im tea an’ all, but ‘e weren’t wi’ it.’

‘That was good of you. I doubt he’ll see the morning, I’m afraid.’ Hervey took a second corn cake, for Fairbrother, and a bottle of brandy. ‘We’ll stand to in about half an hour.’

Johnson nodded, the sideways nod that said he understood and would get on with it, come what may.

Hervey took the bottle and the corn cakes to where Fairbrother sat under a milkwood tree reloading his pistols after their vigorous cleaning. ‘I can’t say I like these, but we must eat something.’

Fairbrother took the corn cake with little pleasure. ‘You are content with things for the night, now?’

Hervey sat down next to him, uncorked the bottle and poured brandy into Fairbrother’s mess tin, and then his own. ‘As content as may be. I only wish those pandours had been able to show more address. It’s the strangest thing to have no idea what your enemy intends or where he is.’