Hervey 10 - Warrior

by Allan Mallinson

  The pressing matter was the extension of Fairbrother's commission, his accompanying them to Shaka's country. It was concluded with more despatch than Hervey had expected, however, for Fairbrother said at once that he wished to remain with the Rifles until his 'good friend' returned finally to England. Hervey was much touched by the gesture. Indeed, he was touched and surprised. They had spoken only a little of his serving on during the voyage south. He had supposed that Fairbrother's attachment to soldiery would not long survive their return to Cape Town, for he knew there was much-neglected business of his father's to attend to. He had asked him, just the once, if he would consider coming to Canada with him, but his friend had all but scoffed at the notion. But now (and this much Hervey found characteristic of his contrariness) Fairbrother expressed himself surprised that his friend had doubted he would want to ride east with him.

  And so Hervey was able thence to ride to Eerste River, fifteen miles or so east of Cape Town, by the mid-morning, and in good spirits, arriving at the stud farm not long after Colonel Smith himself.

  The farm was well set up. There were some handsome buildings, all of one storey, whitewashed, with the distinctive Cape Dutch gables. The fences were solid, straight, pleasing as well as serviceable. And beyond was pasture as green as he would find in his own corner of Wiltshire. Here was a place to foal remounts.

  Colonel Smith was admiring a good-looking blood.

  'A handsome fellow,' said Hervey, coming up on them unseen.

  'Indeed, Hervey, but we would say in the Rifle Brigade that handsome is as handsome does.'

  'A phrase I have myself used. A blood might be needless fire, and an entire altogether too . . .'

  'I thought the same.'

  The breeder became anxious. 'I have another, three-quarter bred,' he tried, his English thick with the accent of Cape Dutch. 'A gelding. I will have him brung, sir. And I have any number of Cape horses.'

  Colonel Smith said he was obliged. 'You know these Capers, Hervey?'

  Hervey told him how they had lost so many troopers to the perdesiekt when they arrived that they had been forced to buy Capers, though not from this breeder. 'There's much to be said for them, since they're salted.'

  'How so?'

  'In truth I can't say. They haven't all had the sickness. Our veterinarian, an excellent, scientific man, believes it to be some sort of . . . immunity, so to speak, passed from dam to foal. In the blood.'

  Colonel Smith looked at him cautiously. 'Very well, Hervey, since you are a colonel of mounted rifles and I merely of the pedestrian variety, perhaps you will tell me what it is that you look for in a horse.'

  Hervey checked himself for a moment. Colonel Smith bantered with him, but a man did not lightly admit himself the inferior judge of horseflesh. 'You will know as I that a chain is but as strong as its weakest link, and it is that link which I always endeavour to discover. Mind, if a chain is not tested to the utmost, that link may not fail. Do you intend working the horse hard?'

  'I do not see my duties especially requiring it.'

  Hervey nodded. 'It's as well to determine these things first.'

  One of the breeder's men trotted up the three-quarter bred, a second man behind it with a whip.

  'A handsome gelding, Kuyper,' agreed Colonel Smith. 'And he moves well.'

  Hervey recollected himself again, for if it were the old trick (and he felt sure it was) it would not do to suggest that his companion fell for it too easily. 'I think we might see how he goes at the walk.'

  The breeder bid his men do so, sounding a little piqued.

  'I thought it was the trot which revealed the most in a faulty action,' said Colonel Smith, but quietly.

  'I don't dispute it,' replied Hervey, likewise lowering his voice (the breeder stood closer than he ought). 'But I doubt the action is true. There'll be a severe bit in his mouth, and the whip cracking behind makes him go forward, and the leader then checks him sharply, so the animal's knees go up because his progress is arrested and the impulse is all from behind.'

  The leader walked the gelding up to them, and then away again.

  'He looks to me straight and level, Hervey,' said Colonel Smith, doubtful.

  'I've seen many worse. Yet to me the action is not free enough. He raises his knee too much. And see how he winds his foot. A horse with such an action tires early, and is prone to stumbling. And – here's the thing – I'm certain it's not his natural action.'

  Colonel Smith frowned. 'How so? There's no whip behind him now.'

  'I'll warrant that if we see inside yonder stable there'll be a set of heavy shoes taken off this morning, and a couple of shot-bags which have been fastened round his fetlocks.'

  'Ah.'

  'And quite probably for no good cause, for the horse to me does not look as if he should be otherwise excessively flat.'

  'Then we ought to leave at once; find another dealer,' said Colonel Smith decidedly.

  Hervey shook his head. 'It doesn't follow that his horses are unsound. He'll have learned the English like a showy action, and that's what he's producing. Neither may he know exactly – strange to say – that it's not how high a horse picks his feet up which causes him to stumble, but how he places them down. Let us see his Capers.'

  To the breeder's evident disappointment they dismissed the gelding and asked to see instead his Boerperds (which would command only half the price of the bloods).

  Five minutes later he brought out half a dozen, in-hand, all much the same to look at in height and general conformation. The Hottentot stable-lads began walking them and then trotting in a large circle about the manège.

  'You see, they all move true,' said Hervey after studying them a minute or so. 'No bridle, just a halter – no tricks.'

  'But rather slighter than I had imagined for myself,' replied Colonel Smith, in a way that suggested he agreed but with some reluctance still. 'You think them up to weight?'

  'Try the grey,' said Hervey (the mare with pronounced iron dappling looked the most active of the bunch). 'I fancy you would weigh in at fourteen stone' (he meant with saddle) 'and there's plenty of arab in them. They'd carry eighteen without complaint. And that black mane will go well with Rifle facings,' he added a shade drolly.

  'I think I might.'

  'But let's first see her run free.' He asked for the mare to be loosed in one of the turnouts.

  The breeder seemed reluctant.

  'Come, man; let her have her liberty.'

  When the halter was off, the mare trotted confidently to the middle of the turnout – dusty even at this time of year – and began to roll. She got up, shook herself, looked about, and then walked to the far side.

  'Would you call her, please, Menheer Kuyper?' asked Hervey, pleased so far with what he saw.

  The breeder barked an order to one of the Hottentots, who cupped a hand to his mouth. 'Kuni!'

  The mare turned her head.

  'Komm, Kuni, komm!'

  She began trotting back to the gate. The breeder looked pleasantly surprised.

  Hervey smiled. 'Well, Colonel, if she's as well mannered under saddle, I would say that there is your hack.'

  And to the breeder's evidently even greater surprise, the mare then went well in a simple snaffle. After five minutes of serpentines, Colonel Smith handed her back with an approving nod, and expressed himself pleased. 'Well, Hervey?'

  'I find no fault.'

  'Nothing at all?'

  'If you were to press me, I might say she were a little cresty – more stallion-like than mare – but that is mere taste. Handsome is as handsome does; and she does well. And she is by no means illfavoured. No, quite the contrary.'

  'Nothing more?' Colonel Smith had not expected to buy a country-bred, and he would be certain of his decision.

  'Again, if you were to press me, I might say that her pasterns are long – I've never cared for length below the fetlock – but I myself would not be disobliged by such a fault in country such as this.

  Were we back
in the hills of the Peninsula, I might prefer them shorter, but here you will have no trouble in it, I'm sure.'

  Colonel Smith nodded. 'I am glad you say so. I liked her.' He turned again to the breeder. 'Very well, Menheer . . .'

  They settled on a price which pleased them both (for the mare showed more quality than either of them had expected), and with assurances of a full month's warranty, the breeder received the promise of a further visit, this next time for a saddle horse for Juana. They parted, if not exactly as friends, then as trusted men of business, the Hottentots assembled in a line, like a guard of honour.

  'I will say that I am much taken with the Cape-bred, Hervey,' declared Colonel Smith as they drove away in his whiskey, Hervey's hack following on a long rein. 'And I thank you heartily for your counsel.'

  'Think nothing of it. I was glad of the diversion, and in truth it was instructive. I'm not as a rule so interested in these things, but I should like to see Kuyper's stud books, or whatever he calls them. I think there's a deal more blood in his horses than I supposed.'

  The sun was now high, and both men were glad of their widebrimmed straw hats. Hervey sat back, content to take his ease with another at the reins. Neither of them spoke for half a mile, the distant views and the Cape's invigorating air wholly diverting.

  At length Colonel Smith's thoughts turned to Somervile and his expedition. 'I have a mind to take charge of the governor's escort myself for this affair of his,' he said, out of the blue.

  Hervey cleared his throat. It had become a habit of his when faced with something unpalatable and which required a considered but instant response – rather as he would check a horse before a fence. 'Indeed?'

  'Yes. I see both opportunity and trouble ahead.'

  So did Hervey, but he did not want the complications of an officer his senior on the expedition. Besides aught else, he reckoned he would have considerably more influence – restraining influence – on Somervile than would another (even General Bourke). 'But would your duties at the castle permit it?'

  'These things can always be arranged. What escort do you propose?'

  'Fifty sabres, and a section from the Rifles,' he replied, and somewhat grudgingly. 'With Welsh, their admirable captain, who was at Umtata with me.' (He hoped that mention of the battle would remind Colonel Smith of his 'native' credentials.) 'I don't know the Reliant's exact capacity, but if she can't ship them all, and the chargers and bat-horses, I shall reduce the number of sabres to accommodate the riflemen.'

  'As I imagined. But landing at Port Natal with such a force will need some herald, will it not, lest Shaka take fright?'

  'Somervile has sent word to Natal to prepare the way. Voerlopers, our Dutch friends call them.' Again, Hervey thought that a little display of local knowledge might give his companion second thoughts.

  They were rounding a blind corner by a craggy outcrop, and the driving horse shied suddenly. The whiskey lurched to the left, and the nearside wheel-spokes splintered painfully against the jagged granite.

  'Damnation!' spat Colonel Smith, recovering his balance.

  Hervey had already jumped down to take hold of the horse, which stood stock-still in surprise, but which otherwise showed every sign of bolting. 'We'd better unhitch him.We can't change the wheel with him between the shafts.'

  Colonel Smith got down, patting the gelding on the neck encouragingly. 'He's no shier, as a rule.'

  'They never are,' replied Hervey ruefully. 'Could have been anything – snake, probably.' He began unfastening the harness.

  A falling rock made them turn.

  'Perhaps that was it,' said Colonel Smith, anxious only to get the gelding from between the shafts before there was any more damage.

  Hervey looked back again. A black face atop a crag thirty yards off ducked down into cover.

  'Indeed it might have been. See,' he said, gesturing. 'Yonder, the rocks with those yellow flowers.'

  Colonel Smith looked, but saw nothing.

  'There was a Kaffir.' Hervey let go the harness and cupped his hands to his mouth. 'Wenza ntoni apho!' he called.

  There was no reply, nor sight of the man.

  'Curse them! Two or three backs to the wheel would serve nicely.' He turned again to the harness.

  Neither of them heard the Hottentots edging their way behind the crags towards them. Only the whiskey-gelding, who whinnied in vain.

  'Steady,' growled Hervey, unfastening the last buckle.

  The gelding shied suddenly. Hervey jumped clear, cursing.

  But now he saw them – spears, blades, clubs. 'Christ!' he gasped, drawing his sabre as Colonel Smith lunged for his own on the whiskey's seat.

  He ran straight at the nearest, sword levelled. Before the man could guard or parry, the point was four inches in his chest.

  Hervey withdrew – 'on guard' – for the split second it took for the Hottentot to crumple, then lunged at a second.

  A third rushed him with a nailed club. Hervey gave point again – this time above the breastbone.

  A fourth faltered, then turned and ran. The rest took flight with him, making for their craggy fastness as suddenly as they'd come.

  Hervey turned to see Colonel Smith, sword drawn.

  'What in the name of God . . .'

  'We were lucky,' said Hervey, grimly. He did not add that he reckoned himself careless for having to count on it, for he should not have allowed himself such an ambush.

  The Hottentots had died so quickly that Colonel Smith's blade had not been needed. He shook his head in admiration as he returned his sword. 'I don't recall I ever saw such sabre-work. My compliments to you, sir.'

  Hervey raised his eyebrows. 'The warrior's trade. Yours, as mine.'

  'Just so; but all the same . . . Were they bandits?'

  Hervey was yet making sure that those at his feet were not feigning death. He threw the clubs into the scrub, and a rusty cutlass. 'Maroons,' he said, sighing at having to use his sabre thus. 'That's what Fairbrother calls them, at least. Wretched creatures. See the brand on this one?'

  He wiped his sabre on a patch of moss before sheathing it.

  'Wretched indeed,' said Colonel Smith, examining the mark – and the shackle scars about the ankles. 'But I shall have the burghers form a posse to apprehend them. I've no craving for chasing runaways, but if they threaten the peace so . . .'

  'They keep well to the north, as a rule. A regular little band. They must have thought us merchants, easy pickings.'

  'I'd've given 'em silver to change the blessèd wheel,' rasped Colonel Smith, turning back to the whiskey.

  And then he turned again, as if he had come to some particular resolution. 'Hervey, I will say it here, without ceremony. I would that you keep the lieutenant-governor out of harm's way in like manner. In Natal, I mean.'

  'Do you doubt that I might?'

  Colonel Smith shook his head. 'I mean that yours shall be the entire responsibility.'

  'Depend upon it.'

  'No, Hervey: I mean that you shall command the escort. I shall remain here.'

  Hervey thought to turn the tables a little. 'Ah, so duties at the castle do not permit of riding with us after all?'

  But Colonel Smith was not to be baited. 'There's no question of it. With Bourke away I mayn't so much as come out to buy a horse without wondering what I shall find on return.'

  'You have my sympathies in that regard.'

  A smile came to Colonel Smith's lips, broadening by degrees until his whole face was creased.

  'Evidently not all is care,' said Hervey, drily.

  'My dear fellow, I suggested I might take charge only to see what was your rejoinder.'

  Hervey was, if in the smallest measure, put out. It was not as if he knew Colonel Smith well, or even that the colonel had shown any predisposition to pranking. 'Occasioned merely by sport, or some particular purpose?'

  Colonel Smith continued to smile, but rather less broadly. 'You know, Hervey, with Bourke away I must act in his name. If I considered some
thing to be ill founded – or, indeed, if I were to be convinced that the general would consider it to be thus – I should have to object.'

  By which Hervey knew that if the general's deputy objected, there would be no expedition. It was, of course, perfectly reasonable that Colonel Smith should wish to test the mettle of a man in whom he would be placing such confidence. 'I trust you do not believe the expedition to be ill founded.'

  'No. Your assurance in the matter is everything. Had you somehow welcomed a superior, I should have been uncertain.'