Conquest

Kydd sat alert: would the conquering army be greeted with violence or resignation? As they passed characterful white-painted residences and imposing stone buildings on the long, straight roads, people began to gather: not sullen masses or threatening crowds but curious African labourers, a huisvrouw with a shopping basket, couples in a style of dress not at all out of place for the England of twenty years ago, multitudes clearly just about their daily business.

They marched on. More arrived, standing on street corners, spellbound at the show. Here and there Kydd saw a Dutchman on his stoop in an easy-chair enjoying a long pipe and pointedly ignoring the invaders.

An immensely long span of oxen crossed ahead, causing the drum major to step short, but nowhere was there any sign of disorder or insurrection: in its normality there was almost a sense of anticlimax.

With the whirling of an ornate baton and flourish of drumsticks, the parade came to a halt in a square outside an imposing double-storeyed white building. Kydd supposed the dozen or more men standing there apprehensively were town worthies.

Baird descended from his carriage and approached them; words and extravagant bows were exchanged. As he returned to his carriage a detachment of redcoats marched forward purposefully and took an on-guard position at either side of the entrance.

The bands struck up and the parade moved on towards a long, spacious garden and stopped abreast a palatial mansion. Baird descended again. With numbers of interested onlookers gathering on the road to witness events, a party of servants headed by a nervous major-domo presented themselves. Baird nodded in acknowledgement, then turned and indicated that those in the second carriage should join him. ‘Government House,’ he grunted. ‘I rather think I should show appreciation.’

Flanked by his commanders, the new governor of Cape Town went to claim his residence. The cool of its rooms was very welcome and the glasses of chilled champagne even more so. Baird relaxed a little. ‘Well, gentlemen. It does seem we shall not be assailed by vengeful Dutchmen, which is a mercy. General Ferguson, I desire you shall give orders as will see your troops march off and be posted at the lesser places within the town until further orders.’

He drained his glass and beamed. ‘So, here we are. I am now the colonial governor. What shall be first?’

‘Sir, the defences against a landing by the French would—’

‘I rather think not. No, sir, I mean to rule well and wisely, and for this I will need an administration of talent and probity that’ll assist me in making decisions of such moment as you now raise. Yet even before that there are matters of confidence and discretion that I can only entrust to one on whom I must rely completely. In short, I’m in pressing need of a colonial secretary.’

‘Why, surely your aide would serve, would he not, sir?’

‘No military, sir. Recollect, these are folk who are joining the British Empire and may not be considered a species of conquered people. The complexion of our governance should be of a civil cast – as it is in England, the military subordinate to the body politic under the Crown.’

‘Where, then, will you find such a one? Here surely all men are in a military way of things?’

‘I’m in no doubt that, at hearing of the accession of this territory following our small feat of arms, Whitehall will quickly dispatch a parcel of government officials fit for colonial rule. It’s the weeks and months before then that I’m more concerned with, first impressions being so much of the essence.’

‘If I might make a suggestion . . .’ Kydd found himself saying.

‘Captain?’

‘I know one of particular suitability. He’s learned, worldly and desires no more than to study the ethnicals of his fellow creatures. And for this man I would pledge my honour that you may entirely trust him with your confidences.’

‘Really? Who is this fellow?’

‘Sir, my own confidential secretary, Nicholas Renzi.’

‘Ah. He knows discretion?’

‘His assistance to the Duc de Bouillon in a delicate matter has been much remarked by Mr Pitt himself.’

‘Extraordinary. Is he, who should say, ambitious? The post is only of a temporary nature and I should not want him to get airs above his station, sir.’

‘Renzi? Not at all, sir. I rather think he sets the world at a distance unless it suits him.’

‘Very well. Your own services now being concluded, you will wish to return to your ship. Do ask your Mr Renzi to wait upon me at his earliest convenience, would you?’

Kydd doffed his hat politely to L’Aurore’s quarterdeck and then her recent acting captain. ‘How goes she, Mr Gilbey?’ he asked, noting the smartness of the side-party and the spotless appearance of his vessel.

‘As an Irish thoroughbred, sir,’ he replied, with a trace of smugness.

‘L’Aurore made fine practice at her gunnery,’ Kydd acknowledged, loud enough to be heard by others. ‘As General Baird himself did allow.’

‘It went well for us, did it, sir?’ Gilbey asked, obviously consumed by curiosity as to what had gone on ashore.

‘His Majesty’s arms did prevail,’ Kydd said, and, feeling his words a little pompous, added, ‘You may say that Cape Town is now ours.’

Kydd was aware of the intent stillness of inquisitiveness around him, but all he wanted at that moment was the peace and familiarity of his cabin.

‘Um, sir – the gunroom would like t’ invite you to dinner b’ way of a welcome back,’ Gilbey ventured.

Kydd smothered a grin: the man’s motives were transparent. ‘Why, I’d be honoured, Mr Gilbey.’ The watch on