‘Now, Buttons, do you go over the headland towards the river as carefully as you may, and see if you can sight a sentry. Off you go, lad!’ He needed no urging, disappearing expertly into the low scrub.
It was some time before he returned but Kydd had anticipated this. A poacher would be concerned to ensure that no gamekeeper was in front of him and equally that none was out to the side who could cut off his retreat. ‘A lookout, sir. Sittin’ on the beach by the river,’ the boy panted. ‘None else as I could see.’
‘We’ll get closer.’
Kydd and Dodd bent down and moved on through the scrub behind Buttons until the young lad held up his hand, signalling they were near. He crouched and beckoned them on, bellying forward until they topped the sand-hill and looked down into the river.
The rise of ground was too slight to see much beyond a glitter of darker water inside the paleness of the sand-bar – but there was the lookout, not a hundred yards away, sitting by the twist in the river mouth that hid the interior so well and staring out to sea, his figure stark against the near-white sand.
Kydd cursed silently. It was critical to the operation to get depth of water over the bar but that was in full view of the lookout. ‘I have to get to the sand-bar,’ he whispered.
‘Shall I take ’im, sir?’ Dodd asked.
‘No, he’ll be missed and they’ll be warned something’s afoot.’
‘Don’t fret, sir, I know how,’ hissed Buttons, mischievously, and faded into the undergrowth.
Minutes later, for the first time in Africa’s long history, the distinctive harsh call of a mating wood grouse was heard, rising from a regular
The lookout’s head jerked up and he looked around in astonishment. Kydd took up the cue and began circling to the edge of the river behind the man. The bird’s call stopped, the lookout stood up and gazed about. Then it started again, further away, alluring. With a quick glance out to sea the man padded inquisitively into the scrub.
Kydd had his chance: he stepped into the river and waded out, not daring to look behind, heading for the centre of the sand-bar. The white sand was firm, the river placidly sliding over it to meet the sea, but to his dismay he saw that in places it was barely inches deep. A sinuous deeper channel of sorts was at the far side, but with a foot or so of water there was going to be no rousing swift assault by boats.
He returned to the bank quickly, glancing upstream to note the river disappearing into a sharp bend. That produced one more complication: to get a sight of the base itself there was no alternative but to follow the riverbank up.
He waited until he was joined by the other two. The base would be guarded, of that there was no question. But would there be outlying pickets or sentries? The probability was that the French were feeling secure in their hidden outpost with such a huge army in the offing – but all it needed was for one only to spot them . . .
‘Go ahead, lad – if you see anyone, play the bird.’
With evening drawing in, after nearly a mile of nerve-racking progress they turned a bend and saw the base, palisaded and of a considerable size with distant figures entering and leaving by a gateway leading to a jetty. Faintly on the air came the sound of drums and massed chanting from a vast throng.
Kydd took out his pocket telescope. Close up, the scene was even more intimidating. The base looked impregnable, the palisaded fort, or whatever it was, large and sprawling with countless warriors passing to and fro. The only thing in their favour was that Kydd could see no embrasures for cannon.
‘What do you think, Sar’nt?’ Kydd said, in a low voice, passing across the telescope and trying not to let his worry show. He had deliberately selected the experienced NCO to assess their chances rather than the young lieutenant of marines.
Dodd took his time, studying terrain and cover, fields of fire, exposure. When he lowered the glass his face was grave. ‘Not good, sir.’
With night coming on, there was nothing to be gained by further reconnaissance and it was time to leave. Kydd took one last look before moving away.
‘Sounds like they’s workin’ up to a right gleesome night!’ Buttons whispered to Dodd, as they followed.
‘We must give ’em best, is my thinking, sail back with our prize – it’s no shame to recognise when the odds are overbearing,’ Curzon said sorrowfully. Next to him Gilbey pursed his lips but did not contradict him.
Kydd turned to look at Bowden, who started at being consulted and could only mumble something about the difficulties they faced.
Kydd’s gaze moved to Clinton. ‘What do the Jollies think?’
The lieutenant turned pink and stammered, ‘From what Sar’nt Dodd informs me, I – I’m inclined to agree. Without field artillery and cavalry, we stand no chance against such numbers. A frontal assault on a fortified position . . . er, well, I can’t see—’
‘Then we have to think again,’ Kydd said heavily. ‘If this base is not destroyed before it sets off the rising, we fail in our duty. Time is not on our side and any and every plan must be considered. Gentlemen . . . ?’
The discussion grew animated, but when there were no fresh ideas forthcoming, Kydd said, ‘Let me rehearse the situation. An attack of the usual sort will, of course, fail against such numbers. A surprise landing will not fare much better, for native warriors need only snatch up a spear and they’re immediately effective.
‘Very well. I feel Mr Gilbey’s suggestion of arming every boat with carronades and bombarding the fortification before a party of marines lands to set fire to the palisades is not practicable. I can tell you, armed boats cannot get over the sand-bar and, besides, if the material of the defences is wet by rain there can be no fire.
‘I like Mr Curzon’s proposal – that we blow up their powder store, thereby destroying the muskets stored with them as well. This will stop the rising directly. But I need hardly point out the gravest obstacle of all: how to approach without being overwhelmed.’
Bowden brightened. ‘Sir, as to that, my uncle served in the American wars and tells that the Indian savages never venture to fight at night for fear of the spirits that are abroad. Might we think these are no different? This would allow us to get close enough to lay a charge without being challenged.’
