those that survived the passage had broken down before they could be got fit for work (one in three did not see a second year in service). The alternative, which the War Office now preferred, was to buy the country-breds and native ponies, which, they believed, increasingly served. It had indeed been the War Office’s intention in the Sixth’s case to authorize local purchase rather than take on the expense of shipping, but Hervey had been able to persuade the Duke of Wellington’s staff, and they in turn Lord Palmerston’s, that the cost of shipping might easily be offset by the reduced time the reinforcement would need to remain in the colony training the coun-try-breds to the trumpet.
‘Much depends now, therefore, on Sam Kirwan’s supervision of the regime of acclimation: three to four weeks, we reckon. Which is why I feel able to undertake your reconnaissance of the eastern frontier.’
‘The Mounted Rifles will give your men a good run for their money in a couple of months, I imagine?’
Hervey nodded. He was not inclined to see any mischief in his old friend’s suggestion. In any case it was undoubtedly true (neither was it a bad thing). The Rifles were already well found: there were eighty or so men enlisted, some from the former colonial corps, and a hundred-odd cob-ponies had been broken and backed thanks to the zeal and capability of the dozen rough-riders from the old Cape Regiment. Recruits had begun their drill with the double-barrelled rifles which Lord Charles Somerset had of his own initiative ordered from the Westley-Richards factory in Birmingham, and there were enough NCOs of sound experience to teach sharpshooting.
‘When I have had a satisfactory parade state for the troop – in a day or so – I believe I should be ready to leave for the frontier. Shall you be able to give me more particular orders?’
‘They are being copied as we speak.’
Through the arched gateway and into the bailey clattered the two mares. The quarterguard presented arms, and Somervile acknowledged, raising his hat high.
‘And there is another thing I would have you look to. Lord Charles Somerset says in his letter of relinquishment to me – which I must acknowledge is a handsome enough memorandum – that there is an officer in Cape Town who might render signal service. If he can be persuaded to bestir himself. I thought it appropriate that he accompany you to the frontier. His name is Edward Fairbrother, of the Royal African Corps.’
Hervey was puzzled. ‘The corps was disbanded some years ago, was it not?’
They came to a halt outside the long, boxlike building that was headquarters of His Majesty’s administration in the Cape Colony. Orderlies standing ready took hold of the bridles, and Sir Eyre Somervile, and Lieutenant-Colonel (Acting) Matthew Hervey, commandant of the new Corps of Cape Mounted Riflemen, dismounted with as little ceremony as possible.
‘Five years ago, to be precise,’ said Somervile, taking the steps to his quarters with impressive bounds, even though his breath was in short measure. ‘The hard cases, I think you call them, were sent to Sierra Leone, and the officers who declined to accompany them were forced to transfer to half pay. One or two stayed here – they were made land grants on the Fish River – but most returned to England.’
‘And so Fairbrother knows the frontier?’
‘Apparently very well, and speaks Xhosa – or Kaffir, as probably he calls it. Or yet Nguni, for that matter.’
Hervey smiled. His own facility with languages was entirely practical, whereas Somervile’s delved deep into their history and character. ‘How is
Somervile did not immediately return the smile. ‘I am not yet fluent, but I can converse perfectly reasonably with my
Hervey nodded, chastened. ‘Then I will speak with this Edward Fairbrother. There was a Fairbrother in the Eighteenth; I wonder if they are any sort of kin?’
XV
ROYAL AFRICANS
It began raining in the late morning, at first a mere mizzle, and then more decided, but it was no more to Hervey than the sort of late-winter downpour he had known on Salisbury Plain, though not nearly as cold. Johnson had complained about the weather since arriving. He had received the knowledge of the reversal of seasons in the southern hemisphere with considerable scepticism, believing his informants were intent on some joke at his expense (if anything, his brush with the Bow Street forces of the law had made him excessively wary). He had lit fires and worn woollens at every opportunity, and told Hervey severally that even when the weather took a turn for the worse in Sheffield in August they could at least go about in flimsy.
Hervey had quickly stayed his groom’s grumbling protests this morning, however. He was determined on seeking out Lieutenant Fairbrother as soon as possible; and with the troop engaged on its march to quarters, and the Rifles in the capable hands of Major Streatfield, there was nothing that need detain him. He therefore called for his waterdeck cape and set off on foot for Fairbrother’s lodgings, dismissing Johnson at the last minute, seeing how close were the lodgings and that he would not have need of the saddle.
He could reasonably have summoned Fairbrother to the castle, he told himself as he set off: the lieutenant was not on the Active List but he was still subject to military authority. And it might have served to do so, for it did no harm to remind a man of his duties. By convention, however, an officer on half pay was allowed the courtesies of formal retirement, and in any case, Hervey took the pragmatic view that persuading a man to do something he might find disagreeable was much the more likely if the persuader did not stand on his dignity.
The rain began to run down the back of his neck, and it troubled him that he was troubled by it. A soaking – like a baking, or a dusting or a freezing – was but a part of the soldier’s life. Had he become soft of late in Hounslow? He wished he wore his shako instead of the forage cap, for it would have kept his neck dry. And he wished too that his new tunic were made, for he had a mind that Rifle green might make more of an impression on Fairbrother than would blue – unless Fairbrother was indeed related to the cornet of that name in the Eighteenth (whom Hervey had known in the Peninsula as a very dashing sabreur).
Lieutenant Fairbrother’s lodgings were about half a mile from the castle next to an expanse of greenery known as the Company’s Gardens, originally a market garden for the Dutch East India Company but now a handsome park filled more with exotic plants and the makings of some sturdy oaks. Hervey’s instructions took him through the gardens to one of a dozen brightly painted timber houses on the western side. A Hottentot woman answered the bell. She was not a great age, but her hair was white; she wore a print dress of European fashion, but no cap. There was about her both dignity and authority. Hervey explained who he was, and she admitted him and showed him to a flower-filled sitting room.
‘I am Master Fairbrother’s housekeeper, sir. I will see if he may receive you,’ she said, with a certain formality. ‘Please be seated.’
Hervey took a seat by a window with a prospect of Table Mountain. He sat for more than a quarter of an hour trying to remain composed, though inclining to exasperation at the delay in any sort of reply. There was a fire in the hearth, which at least began the process of drying out his trousers. He wondered what Sam Kirwan would be thinking of the prospects of studying his science in a tropical climate.
At length the housekeeper reappeared, and with a look that said she had had some difficulty. ‘Master Fairbrother will come very presently, Colonel Hervey. May I offer yourself tea?’
Hervey was very content to take tea: the fire was drying him well enough, but he felt the need of something warming to the inner parts.
When the housekeeper returned, with a silver teapot, and blue china which looked as if it had come from the East, Hervey asked if she knew whether Master Fairbrother had any engagements in the coming weeks, to which she replied that as far as she knew there was nothing to detain him in Cape Town or elsewhere, explaining that he was engaged only infrequently in business, and that he spent his time with his books. Hervey was appreciative of her candour, and intrigued by the suggestion of a bookish disposition.
