Warrior

Somervile nodded. 'Captain Fairbrother, would you be so good as to go and receive them?'

'Of course, Sir Eyre.' Fairbrother touched the peak of his shako to take his leave.

'We are not, after all, in a Crown colony,' added Somervile, when he was gone. 'We do well to recollect it.'

'Just so,' replied Hervey, wondering why Somervile supposed he needed reminding. 'Though it would be as well to discover Lieutenant King's exact situation. Is he one of His Majesty's officers still, or does he act principally in Shaka's interest?'

'I was of a mind to discover that, certainly, but in truth I think it matters not in the end. All I require of him is that he leads us to the fellow, and tells us faithfully what he says. He might, of course, have every appearance of a King's officer and yet be in Shaka's pay.' Somervile looked grave, before adding wryly, 'Such things are not impossible.'

They waited in silence as the boat closed to Reliant's larboard, and then the coming aboard of her party, and Fairbrother's courtesies at the entry port. In a minute or so the visitors were climbing the companionway to the quarterdeck, led by the man they supposed might just possibly be in Shaka's pay.

Lieutenant King, in the remnant of his naval bicorn, climbed the ladder wearily. His appearance was shocking – jaundiced, fevered even. He put his feet together in front of Somervile, although he could not have recognized him, and saluted. 'Lieutenant King, sir, at your service.'

Somervile raised his straw hat in return. 'I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir. Somervile, lieutenant- governor of the Cape.' He held out a hand, and felt the cold clamminess of King's as he took it.

'Forgive, me, Sir Eyre; I have been unwell these late days. My liver . . .'

'Then you must see my surgeon at once.' Somervile turned to Fairbrother.

Fairbrother went to find him.

'Perhaps you should sit down. Here, on the lockers.' Somervile gestured to the stern rail.

Lieutenant King was pleased to take the seat.

'A little brandy, perhaps? And then you might be so good as to introduce the rest of your party?'

'Brandy would be most efficacious, Sir Eyre,' replied King, supporting himself with a hand to the locker beside him. 'May I present Mr Nathaniel Isaacs, who has been here these three years, and John Ross, my clerk.'

The two had removed hats on coming onto the quarterdeck. Somervile returned their bows. 'Gentlemen.'

There followed a little conversation about the anchorage and the provision for the horses, before the surgeon, and brandy, came on deck.

The surgeon took King's pulse. 'I should wish to make a proper examination,' he said, with some asperity.

'Of course,' replied Somervile. 'You are at liberty to take Mr King below just as soon as I have a general report as to Chief Shaka's situation.'

The surgeon bowed, if reluctantly, and nodded to Somervile's steward to authorize a replenishment of the brandy glass.

King took it, and it appeared to revive him, for he let go the locker lid and removed his hat to wipe his brow. 'I beg pardon, Sir Eyre. It comes and goes, the fever, though I must admit the pain is much worse this time.'

Somervile nodded. 'There is no cause for apology, I assure you. But, pray, are you able to say anything of Shaka that might be of help at this time – before Mr Fernyhough takes you below to his dispensary?'

Lieutenant King coughed a little (the stimulus of the brandy, Somervile supposed). 'Shaka is presently engaged on a campaign against Soshangane, Sir Eyre, a chief whose country lies just to the south of Delagoa Bay. In the autumn he crushed the Pondo—'

'The Pondo – to the south, you mean?'

'Yes. Shaka had long had it in his mind to crush the Pondo. He sent his spies there in the summer, and they reported favourably. Besides subjugating the clan, Shaka declared it would serve as the mourning hunt for his mother.' He began coughing again, and had to breathe deeply for a while before resuming. 'They call it i-hlambo, and every warrior must wash his spear in blood. And for his mother, there had to be a great washing of spears.'

Hervey shook his head.

Somervile appeared merely to be absorbed in scholarly discovery. 'And I take it that once this 'washing of spears' is done, Shaka will declare that the country shall return to its normal condition? We have heard of the depredations on his people on account of Nandi's death.'

'I believe that was to be so. But when the army returned, with a great number of cattle, Shaka became restless again, fearing his warriors became soft, and so he ordered them to march north against Soshangane.'

Somervile looked disappointed. 'Where is Shaka now – in the north?'

'No, at his kraal, Dukuza, two days' ride north of here, but he's called a meeting of the elders towards the end of the month, at the his capital, Bulawayo, the same distance beyond.' He began coughing again.

'I think, Sir Eyre . . .' tried the surgeon.

'Yes, Mr Fernyhough, a moment or two more,' replied Somervile, testily. He turned back to King. 'I am much obliged to you, sir. We must make every effort to see Shaka before he leaves for . . .'

'Bulawayo: 'the place of killing'.'

Somervile grimaced. 'The place of killing?'