Warrior

'The Zulu regard the act quite differently from us.'

'So I am coming to conclude, Mr King.' He nodded to the surgeon. 'But see now, you must go below and take Fernyhough's medicine, and then we may speak of Shaka's philosophy at more leisure.'

The lieutenant rose unsteadily and replaced his hat, clasped the point in salute, and left with his companions in the surgeon's charge.

'I hope we shall not be too long detained by his fever,' said Somervile when they were out of earshot. 'I would strike out for Dukuza the day after tomorrow, at the latest.'

Hervey saw no reason to delay the entire party. 'Might I ride ahead, with Fairbrother, so that Shaka knows you are coming?'

Somervile had already considered the idea. 'I imagine Shaka will know by nightfall that we have arrived, do you not suppose? Let us wait for the surgeon's art to work its beneficial effects with Mr King. Since Shaka entrusted him with the mission to Port Elizabeth, he evidently has high regard of him. The time will be well spent if we address – as you have it – our interior economy. I want to parade before the great chief of the Zulu with all the appearance of superiority.'

The landing proceeded without mishap. Indeed, it was done with ease, and the deconfining made for a degree of skylarking by horses and men alike. Many a dragoon had not set foot on a beach before, and gave way to the pleasure of warm water and sand. It was not long before they were catching fish, climbing trees, pointing animatedly to the dolphins beyond the sandbar, taking shots at seabirds, hauling a turtle from the shallows . . .

Content that the Rifles had the landing securely picketed, Hervey decided he too would take his pleasure. 'A bathe, Somervile?'

'By all means,' replied his old friend, readily. 'But you will excuse me, for I must press King to a question or two more – if the surgeon hasn't dosed him too severely.'

Hervey could not believe there would be much to have from King before the morning, whatever the surgeon's medicine, but he would not debate it.

He turned to Fairbrother. 'Shall you take the waters?'

It was not his habit to take exercise for the pleasure of it, but Fairbrother reckoned there was purpose in accompanying his friend. 'Very well.'

They stripped and swam ashore.

And as they dried themselves by one of the driftwood fires, which the dragoons lost no time making, and waited for the jolly-boat with Johnson and their clothes, Fairbrother observed the evident delight of the troop in their recreation. 'What are you thinking of ?' he asked, seeing his friend in thought.

Hervey smiled. 'That it would indeed be pleasing to remain here for several days. Such a pity that Shaka is to leave his kraal, and that we therefore have to make haste.'

Fairbrother looked at him quizzically. 'Remain here for a mere several days – not more?'

'Ha! If we were not engaged upon official business, I believe I could pass many a happy week here – months, even. I hazard there'd be no shortage of volunteers from the troop for outpost duty. Or even to have their discharge. See how agreeable they find it!'

Fairbrother smiled, ironically. 'Just so. Happy colonists. And have you thought: Shaka may come to that same conclusion?'

XIII

METTLE ENOUGHNext morning

The surgeon came onto Reliant's quarterdeck a little after six, and with a weary look. 'I regret to inform you, Sir Eyre, that Lieutenant King is dead.'

Somervile sighed heavily.

Hervey put his coffee cup aside. 'Not of any contagion, I trust, doctor?'

The surgeon shook his head. 'I cannot be certain, but I believe it to be poisoning of the liver. Not any contagion, however. Nothing that need dismay.'

Somervile huffed. 'Except that King was to be our interlocutor with Shaka!'

'Isaacs speaks his language as well as did King, so I understand,' said Hervey, encouragingly.

'Isaacs? A rough sort by the look of him. Not the man I would choose to engage for diplomacy.'

Hervey bridled, rather, at the harsh judgement. His old friend had invested a great deal in this venture, his reputation, indeed; but all the same . . . 'Rough and ready, Somervile.'

'If I might add, Sir Eyre,' tried Fairbrother, who had likewise laid aside his breakfast cup: 'Isaacs may yet be a more faithful interpreter, for he does not enjoy Shaka's confidence in the way King did, and therefore will be obliged to render the translation without, shall we say, his own estimation.'

Hervey said nothing, but he agreed with him. And besides, the principal means of gathering the intelligence that he required would be from observation.

Somervile began nodding, slowly. 'Thank you, Fairbrother. I'm obliged.' He thought for a moment or two more. 'We have, in any case, no option but to proceed.'

Lieutenant King's body was sewn into a hammock. Somervile instructed that it be transferred to the brig, HMS Severus, and thence taken for burial at sea, beyond the bar, following the traditions of the service. At the last minute, however, the lieutenant's native servant had sought out Fairbrother and told him of his master's most particular request, that if he were to die in this place he should be buried on the bluff overlooking the anchorage. And so, a little after seven, a party of seamen took the body ashore, and Hottentot bearers dug the grave.

In the absence of a chaplain, Hervey read the service.