by Saul David
'I don't believe you. If anyone has reason to thank me for my actions yesterday it's him. Why, if it hadn't been for me and Commissary Dalton, he and Bromhead would have packed up and . . .'
'And what?'
George lay there open-mouthed, unable to finish the sentence. All, suddenly, had become clear. My God, he thought, what a fool I am! Chard can't afford to share the limelight with me in case the truth about his own defeatism ever gets out. And Crealock, no doubt, was already encouraging his fears and insinuations.
'You're rambling,' said Crealock. 'So let me finish what I have to say. As an added incentive for your cooperation, the general is prepared to recommend you for a Victoria Cross for your gallantry in rescuing the patients from the hospital, along with Hook and the others.'
George put his hand in the air. 'Stop right there. One moment the general is accusing me of dereliction of duty, the next he's recommending me for a VC. I can't be a villain and a hero — so which is it?'
'That's for you to decide. Think over what I've said, and I'll be back for an answer within the hour. Take it from me,' said Crealock, wagging his finger, 'Lord Chelmsford won't make the same mistakes a second time, and is determined to win this war and make the Zulus pay for their barbarity to our troops. Don't stand in his way.'
George watched Crealock's departing back with a mixture of anger and scorn. What a contemptible man he was, prepared to lie and scheme to save his reputation and that of his master. And yet he and Fynn, more than anyone, were responsible for the catastrophe that had claimed Jake's life, along with so many others. Chelmsford's only failing, it seemed to George, was that he was weak-willed and easily led.
George pondered on what to do. He was determined not to be cowed by their carrot-and-stick approach, partly because he knew they would never dare haul him before a court of inquiry, or a court martial for that matter, for fear of what he might say that would harm them; but chiefly because he owed it to Jake, Durnford, Owen Thomas, and all the others who had died, to tell the truth.
The door creaked open and in stepped Major Gossett, his face drawn and his blue trousers covered in specks of blood. 'George, old fellow, you're alive!' he said, a thin smile on his face. 'When you didn't return I feared the worst and was sure you'd been killed at the camp. But, no, and not content with one fight, you join another one here. Incredible.'
'It's good to see you too, Matthew,' said George, tightly clenching Gossett's proffered hand. 'How I survived I'll never know. Many better men than me did not.'
'Don't say such things. From what I hear you performed heroics last night.'
'Not according to Chard. But tell me, did you pass through the camp on your way here?'
Gossett looked grave. 'Far worse than that, George. We returned as night was falling and were forced to bivouac on the nek, amidst the bodies. It was terrible, George, simply terrible. The ground was literally wet with blood and the smell indescribable. I couldn't sleep - no one could - so I passed the time looking for people I knew. I found Charlie Pope, with his monocle still in place.'
'Did you see Jake Morgan's body?'
'Yes, he was close to Pope. Both had multiple stab wounds. They and the others were all clustered together, as if they'd made a last stand.'
'They did. I saw them.'
'You saw them? Then how did you escape?'
'Durnford gave me a message to carry here. I was lucky. I'll tell you about it another time. What I need to know from you, Matthew, is why Chelmsford didn't return to the camp sooner. Surely he received Pulleine's message that we were under attack.'
'He did. It mentioned heavy firing to the left of the camp, if I recall, but because it made no request for assistance, he agreed with Colonel Crealock that we should ignore it.'
'What then?'
'Well, about the same time, he received word that the guns and two companies of infantry were returning to the camp on the orders of Colonel Harness of the Artillery, who, apparently, had heard from one of the NNC battalions that the camp was in danger. His response, again on the advice of Crealock, was to countermand the order. I remember Crealock accusing Harness of disobeying his orders to march to the Mangeni, and utterly ridiculing the idea of any assistance being necessary at Isandlwana. It was only later, at about two thirty p.m., that Chelmsford finally accepted that something might be amiss and set off with an escort to see for himself. He met Lonsdale en route and was told that the Zulus had taken the camp.'
'My God, what a catalogue of deceit and incompetence. But something tells me none of this will come out in the court of inquiry. Chelmsford and Crealock are trying to pin the sole blame for the disaster on Durnford, Matthew, and they want me to help them.'
'How?'
'By keeping quiet about Chelmsford's errors and by going along with the lie that Durnford was ordered to take command at Isandlwana and act on the defensive.'
'Was he not?'
'No. I saw the order, and it said nothing about taking command.'
'I'm not doubting your word, George, but I find it hard to believe that Lord Chelmsford would deliberately lie about something like this.'
'I agree with you. I don't think he would. The man I hold responsible for the lie, and much more besides, is Crealock.'
'Crealock? Are you sure? It's true he exerts great influence over Lord Chelmsford, but I'm not convinced even he is capable of a bold-faced lie.'
'He is. Take it from me.'
Gossett frowned, as if uncertain what to think. After a long pause he said, 'I hope you'll forgive my bluntness, George, but all this sounds a little far-fetched.'
'I appreciate that.'
'So what do you intend to do?'
George thought for a moment. 'I can't decide. But what I won't do is lie about the Durnford order.'
'I admire your integrity, George, but is that wise? Chelmsford is a powerful, well-connected man and could make things extremely difficult for you. You're still under military authority, after all.'
'I know, Matthew, and Crealock even had the nerve to say Chelmsford would recommend me for a VC if I went along with their version of events. But I couldn't live with myself if I let Chelmsford and Crealock off the hook by allowing Durnford to take the blame.'
'Well, if you ask me you deserve a VC twice over for what you did yesterday. But you won't get one unless you cooperate, is that what they're saying?'
'Yes.'
'And still you're determined to speak out?'
'I am.'
'In the full knowledge that a VC would provide your career with an immeasurable boost?'
Not to mention a good deal of money, thought George. But Gossett knew nothing of his father's bequest, so George simply nodded.
Gossett slowly shook his head. 'I can see you're determined to do it your way. Just promise me one thing.'
'What?'
'That you'll return to Britain before you spill the beans about Durnford's order. If you do that here, you'll be at Chelmsford and Crealock's mercy. They might even try to court-martial you.'
It irked George to think that he would have to hold his tongue until he was beyond Chelmsford's reach, but Gossett had a point. 'You might be right,' he said at last. 'He's already hinted as much . . . All right. I promise. But in return you can do something for me.'
'What's that?'
'See that a Native Contingent officer called Lieutenant James Hamer is reduced to the ranks. I lent him my horse on the retreat from Isandlwana on condition that he waited at the top of the next hill. He rode on, and if Emperor hadn't thrown him I never would have made it to Rorke's Drift.'
Gossett smiled. 'It'll be a pleasure.'
Chapter 20
Military Hospital, Pietermaritzburg, 6 February 1879
A pretty blonde nurse with freckles poked her head round the door of George's whitewashed hospital room. 'You've a visitor, Lieutenant Hart. Shall I show her in?'
'Yes, please,' said George, putting down his copy of the Natal Witness. Since his transfer from Helpmek
aar four days earlier he had devoured every newspaper he could get his hands on. Most were fiercely critical of Chelmsford's conduct of the campaign thus far, and wondered at the unseemly haste with which he and his staff had abandoned the remnants of Glyn's demoralized column on 24 January to return to Pietermaritzburg to confer with Frere. At the same time they were full of praise for Colonel Pearson, whose Southern Column had repulsed a heavy Zulu attack on the same day as Isandlwana, and positively lionized the heroic defenders of Rorke's Drift who, they were quick to assert, had saved Natal from a Zulu invasion. As for apportioning blame for Isandlwana, they were only too happy to point the finger at Durnford, a man for whom few Natalians had had any sympathy since the disaster at Bushman's River Pass. That day's paper was typical, containing as it did a memorandum by Colonel Bellairs, deputy adjutant-general, on the recent court of inquiry that had sat at Helpmekaar. It read:
From the statements made before the court of inquiry it may
be clearly gathered that the cause of the reverse sustained at
Isandlwana was that Lt Col Durnford, as senior officer, overruled
the orders which Lt Col Pulleine had received to defend the camp
and directed that the troops should be moved into the open, in
support of a portion of the Native Contingent which he had
brought up and which was engaging with the enemy. Had Lt
Col Pulleine not been interfered with and been allowed to carry
out his distinct orders given him to defend the camp, it cannot be
doubted that a different result would have been obtained.
The paper also contained transcripts of the evidence given to the court of inquiry by various officers who had fought at Isandlwana and lived to tell the tale, including Lieutenant Smith-Dorrien and others who had been with Chelmsford, like Colonels Crealock and Glyn, and Major Clery. It made George's blood boil to read Crealock's falsehood that he had ordered Durnford to 'take command' of the camp on 22 January. But he had been expecting nothing less, and it came as no surprise to discover that Chelmsford, to protect himself from criticism, had limited the scope of the inquiry to the 'loss of the camp'; nor that Chelmsford had silenced Colonel Harness, the man he had prevented from returning to the camp during the battle, by making him one of the three members of the court, none of whom were allowed to give evidence.
George, of course, had not been asked to testify; but then nor had he been singled out as one of the heroes of Rorke's Drift in any of the early reports. He would, he knew, receive no official recognition of the part he had played in either battle. That was his punishment for not going along with Chelmsford and Crealock's cover-up, and he was happy to accept it. For now.
The door opened and in stepped a vision of loveliness in a green satin day dress with matching hat and shoes. Her chestnut hair was piled high on her head, the pale beauty of her face offset by a little rouge. She looked so elegant and poised, every inch the lady, that it took George some time to recognize her. When he did, his jaw fell.
'Lucy? Can it really be you?'
She nodded, tears in her eyes. 'Yes, it's me. I saw your name in the casualty lists and came as quickly as I could. Tell me you're not badly hurt!'
'I'm fine,' he said, patting his bandaged arm. 'It's just a scratch.'
'It looks more than a scratch. But it seems you'll live. It's so good to see you.'
'And you.'
Lucy bent forward over the bed, put her arms round George's neck and kissed him on the lips. 'I missed you,' she whispered.
'And I you,' said George, with genuine conviction. The sight of Lucy, the taste of her lips, had roused feelings of desire he had not expected. They were accentuated by the smell of her perfume, so sensuous in the austere confines of the hospital. 'Sit down and tell me what you've been up to. You've obviously done well for yourself.'
'I get by,' she said, settling on the side of the bed. 'I used the last of the money you gave me to get to Kimberley, where I found work in a saloon owned by a former actor called Barney Barnato. He and his brother have some of the most valuable claims in the Kimberley diamond mine. Anyway, he must have thought I had potential because it wasn't long before he put me in charge. It's the best saloon in town, with the highest prices, and Barney says he'll give it to me one day.'
'Does he now?' said George, feeling more than a little jealous. 'And what exactly does this Barney expect in return?'
Lucy blushed. 'He's not like that, George, and nor am I. But you haven't told me about your adventures. You joined up, then, like I said you would.'
'Yes,' said George, looking out through the window at the hills beyond, 'though there were times when I wish I hadn't. War's a cynical business.'
'I'm just glad you're out of it, George. Was it as bad as the papers say?'
'Worse. My best friend, Jake Morgan, was killed at Isandlwana.'
'I'm so sorry,' said Lucy, taking his hand. 'But you survived; that's all that matters to me. What will you do next?'
'Go back to London. There's something I have to do.'
'But you can't go back!' said Lucy, her face all concern. 'They'll still be looking for Thompson's killer.'
'I'll take my chances. I have to.'
Tears began to roll down Lucy's cheeks. 'Please come back to Kimberley with me. At least until you're better.'
'That's a tempting offer, Lucy, and very generous considering the way I left you to fend for yourself. But I can't take you up on it. Not yet, at any rate. I plan to leave Durban by mail packet as soon as I'm well enough to travel.'
'Well, come for a short stay. I live in a spacious house and you won't want for attention. I'll nurse you myself.'
'I can't. It wouldn't be fair to you.'
'Why ever not? I love you, George, I always have.'
'And I'm very fond of you. But I must tell you this: I'm in love with someone else.'
Lucy released George's hand. 'Who?'
'Her name is Fanny Colenso.'
'Does she love you?'
'I think so.'
'You think? You're not sure?'
'No. It's complicated.'
'Where is she now?'
'At her father's home, I imagine, not far from here.'
'Has she been to visit you?'
'No, not yet.'
'Why not?'
'I don't know. I've written asking her to come, but she hasn't yet.'
'Forgive me for saying this, George, but it doesn't sound like love to me.'
'No, not when you put it like that. It's hard to explain.'
'Try.'
George closed his eyes. After a pause he said, 'I wasn't the only one vying for her affections. I think she was in love with both of us.'
'Was?'
'He was killed at Isandlwana.'
'Leaving the way clear for you. How very convenient,' said Lucy, attempting sarcasm but sounding bereft.
'Yes. No. It's not like that.'
'Isn't it?'
George was silent. What could he say ? After a long pause, Lucy stood up. 'I'm staying at the Plough Hotel and leave for Kimberley at eight tomorrow morning. If you change your mind . . .'
'I'm sorry. I won't.'
'Goodbye, then.'
'Goodbye.'
For a long time after Lucy's departure, George reproached himself for being so heartless. She had, after all, travelled hundreds of miles to see him. Surely he could have found a way to let her down more gently? Possibly, but anything less than brutal honesty would have encouraged false hopes. No, he decided at last, what he had done was for the best. And with that moral certainty clear in his head, he fell asleep.
It was almost dark when George woke from his nap. He was lying on his back, facing the ceiling, and could just make out a shadowy figure seated to his right. 'Who's there?' he demanded.
There was no reply, but as George's eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could see it was a woman in dark clothes, wearing a veil. 'Lucy, is that you again?'
&nb
sp; 'No, it's me.'
'Fanny! You've come at last!' said George, his voice cracking with emotion. 'I can't tell you how much I've been longing for this moment.'
Fanny's response was cool, almost distant. 'There's something I need to ask you.'
'Ask away.'
'Is it true what everyone's saying, that Anthony's to blame for the disaster?'
George sat up and turned towards her. 'No, it's not true, Fanny. His decision to leave the camp was an error, but he did it because he genuinely believed the Zulus were retreating and might threaten Lord Chelmsford. He still thought of his command as independent of Glyn's.'