by Saul David
'But, sir,' persisted Mansel, 'we know from the intelligence gleaned by Second Lieutenant Hart that the main Zulu impi is on its way. What if it decides to attack the camp?'
'It won't.'
'But it could, my Lord. So would it not make sense to post a chain of picquets to the rear of the camp?'
'No, it would not,' said Chelmsford firmly. 'You seem to forget that it is my troops that will do all the attacking. And even if the enemy does venture to attack, the mountain will serve to protect our rear.'
'Might I make a suggestion, my Lord?' offered Colonel Crealock.
'Do.'
'If the police are nervous, we could always place a picket of native pioneers behind the camp.'
'We could,' said Chelmsford with a smile. 'Will that do, Sub-Inspector?'
The policeman reddened, but said nothing.
'Good. Now let's move on to more pressing matters. Fynn, have you learnt anything today to alter your conviction that the Zulu army will make for the Mangeni Gorge?'
'No, nor do I expect to,' said Fynn smugly. 'I have heard, however, that Chief Sihayo's brother Gamdana is willing to lay down his arms. His kraal is on the edge of the Malakatha Hills, on the way to the gorge, and I intend to go there tomorrow morning to speak to him. He may well know the whereabouts of his brother.'
'Good. I'll come with you. So that's settled. First thing tomorrow, Commandant Lonsdale will search the Malakatha Hills with his two battalions of Kaffirs, less four companies that will remain behind to guard the camp, while Major Dartnell takes the mounted police and volunteers along the old track that we used today. They are to link up in the vicinity of the Mangeni Gorge, and between them should determine whether any large parties of Zulus are occupying the ground to our southeast. Major Gossett will accompany the mounted troops. Any questions?'
'Yes, my Lord,' said Gossett, raising his hand. 'How many days' rations will the troops require?'
'You'll be back by nightfall, so one will suffice.'
'And what if we encounter the enemy, my Lord?' asked Lonsdale, a short rotund man with a waxed moustache who had distinguished himself on the Cape frontier.
'You're to use your initiative of course, Commandant, but if in doubt, report back to me for further orders. Nothing else? Good. Get some sleep, gentlemen. Some of you have an early start.'
George left the headquarters tent convinced that Chelmsford was courting disaster. So great was the general's contempt for his foe, so over-reliant was he on Fynn's suspect intelligence, that he seemed happy to ignore every basic military precaution, including his own field regulations for column commanders to fortify every camp. And to top it all he was about to split his command, sending the weakest part of his force, the native contingent, on a wild-goose chase through some of the most difficult terrain in southeast Africa. None of it made any sense. If by some miracle Fynn had not invented his intelligence, and the main Zulu army was heading towards the Mangeni Gorge, what was the point of sending Lonsdale's warriors in the same direction with only a portion of the mounted troops in support? But if Fynn was misleading Chelmsford for his own selfish ends, and the camp became the target as a result, it was in no way prepared to meet an attack.
Chapter 15
Central Column's camp, Isandlwana, 21 January 1879
George watched the dawn departure of Dartnell's horsemen and Lonsdale's foot battalions with a sense of foreboding. Yet the black troops seemed cheery enough, laughing and joking, and many carrying pots full of steaming-hot porridge which, given the uncertainty of their next meal, they were loath to abandon. They surged forward in an unruly mass, making little attempt to keep military formation, and looking for all the world like a swarm of bees as they advanced across the plain. Even on ponies, Lonsdale and his officers had trouble keeping up.
George looked up and could see, hovering directly above the plain, a dark, low-lying cloud that resembled the trail of smoke from a steamship. At first the cloud was tinted blood- red, but as the sky lightened it became ash-brown with golden edges, a glowering presence that seemed to augur ill. George shivered, though the temperature was far from cold, and returned to his tent to snatch a last hour or two of sleep before his morning reconnaissance with Lord Chelmsford.
Shortly before nine o'clock, after a hearty breakfast of boiled ham and eggs in the headquarters' mess-tent, Chelmsford and his staff rode out of camp and took less than an hour to reach the kraal of Chief Gamdana, Sihayo's brother, on the edge of the Malakatha Hills. There was no sign of life and, fearing a trap, Chelmsford sent Fynn ahead to investigate. He confirmed that the kraal was empty, though some of the fireplaces contained ashes that were still warm, a sign that the departure was recent.
'Has Gamdana been playing us false, do you think?' Chelmsford asked Fynn.
'It's possible, my Lord, though it's also possible he panicked at the sight of Lonsdale's warriors. They would have passed close to here.'
'I suspect the former. He's probably gone to join Chief Matshana. Either way, there's nothing more to be done here, so back to camp, gentlemen; I hear the cook's got beefsteak for lunch.'
George could bear Chelmsford's insouciance no longer. 'My Lord,' he said as Chelmsford was about to move off, 'I know Mr Fynn's intelligence suggests the main Zulu army is heading for the Mangeni Gorge, but would it not make sense, to be on the safe side so to speak, to send another reconnaissance patrol up the Ulundi road as far as Siphezi Hill? I'd be happy to go along as an interpreter.'
Chelmsford reined in. 'That's very selfless of you, Hart, but I need you with me. Your suggestion, however, is a good one. Colonel Crealock, have Russell send a patrol to Siphezi Hill.'
'Very good, sir,' replied Crealock, his frown betraying his distaste for a general acting on the advice of a second lieutenant. 'But with most of the mounted troops absent today, I suggest we keep the patrol as small as possible. An officer and four riders should suffice.'
'Very well, and inform Russell his men are to take no risks. If they see Zulus they are to report back immediately. To camp, gentlemen,' added Chelmsford, spurring his horse on. 'Lunch awaits.'
So beautifully laid was the table in the headquarters mess- tent, with its crisp white linen and sparkling silver cutlery, that the setting could have been mistaken for a Pall Mall club. Chelmsford saw no sense in roughing it on campaign unless it was absolutely necessary, and though he never touched a drop of alcohol himself he was happy for his staff to partake. The meal, as a result, was a jovial affair, with the imminence of battle encouraging one or two to drink more than was advisable in the middle of the day. Chelmsford was all bonhomie, regaling his staff with tales of the famous Abyssinian Campaign, which he had accompanied as Sir Robert Napier's adjutant-general. 'If you think Zululand poses supply difficulties,' he said, leaning back in his chair, 'you should have been in Abyssinia in sixty-eight. We had to move an army of ten thousand men across three hundred miles of roadless mountain and desert, with not a drop of water to be had. And yet we managed it, thanks to British ingenuity, scrupulous staff work and first-rate intelligence. Any of you heard of a chap called Speedy?'
'Wasn't he Napier's political,' remarked Crealock, 'who went native and used to dress in lion skins?'
'He was indeed, Colonel. Knew the country like the back of his hand, and ran a first-class network of spies. A bit like our own Mr Fynn.'
Fynn raised his glass of claret. 'You're too kind, my Lord.'
George inwardly seethed. He was now more convinced than ever that Fynn had faked the intelligence for his own ends, and that Crealock knew this. George could bear the company no longer, but as he tried to think of a reason to excuse himself, the steward hurried up to Chelmsford and whispered in his ear.
'Gentlemen,' announced Chelmsford, 'we have an unexpected guest. Chief Gamdana has chosen to grace us with his presence after all.'
All eyes swivelled to the tent flap through which walked the younger brother of Chief Sihayo, a man George had last seen on that fateful night at kwaSoxh
ege. Leaner than his elder brother, and with far less natural authority, Gamdana looked ill at ease, his eyes darting from side to side. He was dressed like a chief, with a profusion of necklaces and an impressive headdress of otter skin and widow-bird feathers, but something about his shifty demeanour suggested a man disgruntled with his lot.
'Do come in, Chief,' said Chelmsford, making no attempt to rise from his seat. 'We missed you earlier, but no matter, you're here now. I take it you've come to submit.'
'I have,' said Gamdana in Zulu, causing Chelmsford to turn to Fynn for the English translation.
'Ask him where his weapons are,' said Chelmsford. 'He knows he can't submit without them.'
Fynn did so. 'He says they're outside.'
'Well, have them brought in. No need to break up the party early.'
Fynn went outside and returned with four of Gamdana's warriors, each clutching an armful of spears and firearms. They dumped them on the ground next to Chelmsford's seat.
'Is that it?' asked the general.
Gamdana nodded.
Chelmsford leant down to inspect a couple of the firearms. Some were muskets, some rifles, but all were muzzle-loaders. 'They're all obsolete,' said Chelmsford, shaking his head. 'Ask him what he's done with his best weapons.'
The Zulu looked indignant. 'These are my best weapons, and I don't surrender them lightly. Cetshwayo has sent an impi to eat me up, but it has not yet arrived. It is said to be camped to the right of Siphezi Hill.'
Fynn translated, but omitted to mention the last important detail, causing George to intervene. 'He also confirms, my Lord, what the old Zulu told me yesterday: that the main impi spent last night at Siphezi, which is barely twenty miles distant.'
'I wouldn't believe a word he says,' said Fynn. 'How could Cetshwayo know of his plans to surrender? I suspect he's feeding us false intelligence so we'll look in the wrong place.'
'My Lord,' persisted George, 'might it be possible the chief is telling the truth? He is, after all, a younger brother of Chief Sihayo and could be hoping to take his place as the head of the tribe.'
'Nonsense,' said Fynn. 'He's obviously a plant. You've only got to look at the quality of the weapons he's brought in to deduce that. They can't be the best he has.'
Ill feeling crackled across the tent between George and Fynn. George felt himself almost bursting with the frustration of his knowledge.
'Crealock,' said Chelmsford, 'what do you think?'
'I agree with Fynn. All our previous intelligence indicates that Cetshwayo's impi is intending to link up with Chief Matshana in the Mangeni Gorge. This mention of Siphezi Hill could be a deliberate attempt to lure us away from there.'
'I believe you're right,' nodded the general. 'If Gamdana really was prepared to betray his brother and his king, his life would be forfeit. Get the blackguard out of my sight.'
'Is he to be held prisoner, my Lord?' asked Fynn.
'No, I can't spare the men to guard him. Just tell him to leave.'
'Is that wise, my Lord?' asked Crealock. 'He's seen the layout of the camp. If he means to play us false he could pass this information to the Zulu commanders.'
'I hope he does, but I doubt it will make a difference. Their strategy is to avoid a pitched battle; ours is to bring one on. And to do that we've got to winkle them out of their hiding places. Talking of which, is there any word from Major Gossett?'
'Not yet, my Lord,' said Crealock.
'Damn. I want to scout the Nqutu Plateau to the north of the plain this afternoon, so leave word in camp of our whereabouts. And get rid of them,' said Chelmsford, nodding towards the waiting Zulus.
George rose from his seat and led Gamdana and his men out of the tent.
'You look familiar,' said the chief, studying George's face.
'I came to kwaSoxhege last year.'
'You're the white Zulu who tried to save Nandi?'
George nodded.
'Is that why you've come with the white soldiers now, for revenge?'
'Maybe. But tell me, cousin, why you're here rather than with your people.'
'Because I don't wish to see my kraals destroyed. We can't win this war. Our only hope is to submit before it's too late.'
'I apologize for the way you were treated in there. My chief doesn't believe you've come in good faith. He thinks you're out to mislead us.'
'Then he's a fool. Cetshwayo's impi is near. Tomorrow it will fight.'
'Where?'
'I don't know. It will strike anywhere it sees a weakness. Now I must go. Without British protection I'm a dead man.'
It was gone three o'clock, much later than intended, by the time Chelmsford and his staff reached the Nqutu Plateau, having ascended the broad spur that connected it to the north end of Isandlwana Hill. They rode east, across a broken, difficult terrain strewn with rocks and boulders, and had covered about two miles when a frantically waving rider was seen to their left. It was Major Gossett. He cantered over to Chelmsford, drew rein and saluted.
'My Lord, I've just come from Major Dartnell. About an hour ago his scouts made contact with a large force of Zulus, about fifteen hundred, on the neck of a hill close to the Mangeni Gorge. He doesn't think he's strong enough to attack them on his own, so has asked Commandant Lonsdale to join him. He requests permission to stay out overnight so he can keep an eye on the Zulus.'
Chelmsford smiled broadly. 'Do you hear that, gentlemen? It seems Dartnell has made contact with Matshana's men, and possibly even the vanguard of Cetshwayo's army, just as Fynn predicted. Of course he must stay out. Crealock, arrange for rations to be sent out on pack horses, and send Dartnell a written order to attack as and when he thinks fit.'
'Shall I send Hart, sir?' asked Crealock.
'No, send a mounted infantryman. I need Hart with me.'
The patrol continued for a further mile along the plateau until it reached the furthest cavalry outpost, consisting of two Carbineers from George's regiment, on the crest of a hill known as iThusi. Asked by Chelmsford if they had anything to report, they pointed to some high ground a further three miles to the northeast where, clearly outlined against the horizon, could be seen a number of Zulu horsemen. George counted fourteen.
'How long have they been there?' asked Chelmsford.
'About an hour, this time,' answered the senior of the two Carbineers, a freckle-faced corporal called Pearce. 'They keep coming and going.'
'Have you reported this?'
'We have, sir, more than once.'
Chelmsford turned to his civilian advisor. 'What do you make of it, Fynn?'
'Oh, I wouldn't worry about it, my Lord. It's probably just Sihayo's men trying to work their way round to his kraal to assess the damage. They're among the few Zulus who ride horses.'
'I see. Could they be acting as scouts for the main Zulu impi?'
'They could be,' said Fynn, 'but then they wouldn't be heading in that direction. All my intelligence indicates that the main impi is heading southeast towards the Mangeni Gorge, and if we take Dartnell's report at face value, it might already be there.'
'Yes, well, just to be on the safe side I'll send out a patrol to the northeast first thing in the morning. It wouldn't do to be caught on the hop.'
Back at camp an hour later, Chelmsford received further hints that the Zulu army was near. The first was a message from the commandant of one of Lonsdale's battalions, timed at one o'clock that afternoon. It read:
Sir,
While, skirmishing along the southern edge of the Malakatka range,
my men captured, two Zulus who, under interrogation, claimed to have left
the main Zulu army in the vicinity of Siphezi Hill earlier today to visit
their mother. I thought you should know. I'm sending this message back
with forty cattle that we've also managed to capture.
I am,, etc,
(Gorge, Hamilton Browne,,Comdt, 1st/3rd NNC
The second was a verbal report from the young lieutenant of the Imperial
Mounted Infantry who had led that day's patrol to Siphezi. 'We saw no Zulus until the ride back to camp, my Lord,' stated the officer as he stood rigidly to attention in Chelmsford's headquarters tent, his white sun helmet under his arm.