Conquest

the boarding of an enemy was well practised, but attacking some sort of defensive position up an African river?

They needed more local knowledge and one source was readily to hand. It was put to the brig’s crew that if they were helpful, their status as prisoners-of-war might well be favourably reviewed. They most readily fell in with it. But their information was limited: a sand-bar was across the mouth of the river, which required boats to be kept inside; cargo was landed on the beach and hauled over the bar to the waiting boats, then taken up-river to the base, which was a mile or so upstream. That, and – unwelcome news – an army of ten thousand Xhosa warriors camped nearby massing for the uprising.

There was little else they could add besides the fact that a mysterious Frenchman living with the Xhosa was directing the whole operation; he was keeping the muskets and powder under guard until the French veterans arrived to issue them.

On the face of it, the odds were ludicrous, the only possible thing in their favour being surprise.

How to get heavy boats across the sand-bar? How to cow an army of ten thousand? How to achieve total destruction? There were just too many questions, which could only be answered with stealthy reconnaissance.

Returning to the deck to give his orders, Kydd suddenly stopped at the problem he saw. The brig lying secure under their guns couldn’t come with them: the sight of it would arouse the base and bring unwelcome attention. However, if it was left to return to Cape Town on its own, it would have to be heavily guarded and would be an intolerable drain on the frigate’s manpower, just at the time when it was most needed.

Sink it? Let it go? Maroon the soldiers? Wreck it ashore? The answer was laughably simple. ‘Mr Calloway. My instructions to Lieutenant Bowden are that he anchors offshore and his sailing crew does return with you in the brig’s boats. Clear?’

It caused much merriment among the boat’s crew, and renewed respect for their captain when they realised what he’d done. Aboard the brig, the soldiers were to be left quite at liberty to do as they pleased, with not a single guard to trouble them. They could eat, drink and make merry as they wished, only one thing denied them: as hopeless landlubbers they could not move the vessel an inch and without boats had every incentive to keep their prison safely afloat until L’Aurore returned to claim them.

‘Let’s be about our business. Mr Kendall, I desire we should be in this position at dawn, if you please.’ This would give Kydd the night hours to review his options.

By the time the grey of dawn was stealing over the sea he still had no plan. An assault from the river by boats shipping a carronade? The Royal Marines holding up the army while the seamen set fire to the buildings, whatever they were?

Keyed up, Kydd waited impatiently for the distant coastline to firm. When close enough they would pass slowly by, positively identifying the river mouth before anchoring well out of sight, ready for the final act. He had done as much as he could. Now for the reconnaissance that would provide the vital detail to enable an assault plan to be put in place.

‘Coming up to position, sir,’ Kendall said quietly.

‘Thank you,’ Kydd replied, and brought up his telescope. With local information gained from the brig’s crew, they had hand-drawn a chart of the river mouth and approaches and he knew what to look for – a low swirl in the sand-hills with, on the left, a characteristic rise topped with two trees and a crumbling hut to the right, and in the distance a serrated mountain range.

He scanned the shore carefully, but the flat coast, with its undulating, scrubby hillocks, went on and on without a break. Frowning, Kydd ordered the ship in nearer the land and continued. Without result. No discontinuity in the featureless shoreline, not even a mountain range in the distance. One mile – five, ten. Nothing. He and Gilbey had checked their reasoning, were confident of their results, and with two independent workings to go with . . .

‘Put about – we’ll try on the other side.’ If the brig was out in its reckoning it would only be minutes of longitude, no more than a few miles. It had to be close. L’Aurore came around and took up in the opposite direction, holding her course until she passed the expected position. Then she stood on for a mile, two, more – but it was obvious to everyone aboard that the secret of the base was going to stay that way.

There was no other conclusion than that they had been utterly and comprehensively fooled.

Chapter 13

‘What are you waiting for? Kill him now!’

Renzi steeled himself but stood outwardly calm as the men made to seize him, hesitating for a moment in bafflement at his confidence. He smiled cynically. ‘A rising of the tribes? I rather think not. You’ve overlooked the one thing that makes it quite impossible.’

Therese held up her hand. The men clamped his arms with an iron grip and waited with a growl. ‘What do you mean?’ she bit.

‘Shall I remind you that I’m colonial secretary and few things are hidden from me? And what I know tells me your plan’s worthless. You’ve utterly ignored one vital matter.’

‘What’s that?’ she demanded.

‘You can’t see it? Then all I may conclude is that as a band of plotters you’re both incompetent and amateur.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she flared. ‘You’re bluffing, aren’t you?’

Renzi said nothing, his smile still in place.

‘Tell me!’

He remained mute.

‘Tell me, I said! Or I’ll have you crushed!’

‘I could say anything, which you must believe, and in the circumstances your threats are meaningless, Mam’selle.’