Chapter 5

 

Once in India I saw a priest or fakir lie in a hessian sack up to his neck, into which a live cobra was placed. We watched the coils of the snake move under the rough cloth as the serpent roamed inside the sack, but the man later emerged unscathed from the experience. Those weeks in Umgungundlovu reminded me of that holy man: lying close to a dangerous creature and knowing one false move could result in your death. By the end of January, I had been in Owen’s settlement for six weeks. The Boers were due in early February. At least this incarceration would not last much longer for me, but what would follow was causing increasing alarm.

Dingane had instructed Owen to write to Retief requesting that he bring all of his settlers with him, including the women and children. Now that the king had mastered a few of his words and letters, he would get Owen to read the letter back to him while he studied the writing. The cleric dared not add a warning to the note, for the king was bound to notice the extra words, even if he could not understand them. The only reason I could imagine for Dingane to summon all of Retief’s people to his capital, was to kill them. I could not think of a better explanation. William told me that he had interpreted for Retief on his earlier visit. Dingane had asked how many people the Boer leader had. Retief had answered that his wagon train numbered at least a hundred and fifty settlers. Perhaps Dingane thought that this was all the Boers as Retief was negotiating for their whole group. Yet I knew that there were three other Boer leaders already in Dingane’s territory, each with a similar number of followers.

I reassured Owen that Retief was unlikely to bring the women and children. Even when I had been with the Boers there was much distrust over the Zulu offer, which sounded far too good to be true. Surely, he would not take such a risk? Still, I began to have a horrible nagging fear that he might, and that Louisa would come with them. That night I woke up in a lather again with the same nightmare as before: Louisa and I being dragged up the hill, with me making a lot more fuss than the adulterous couple. In the end I got up and went outside to avoid disturbing the others. It was a quiet night, even the top of the execution hill seemed peaceful. Thinking back, I could not recall any processions to its summit for a couple of days. Just a slight odour of rot and decay on the wind gave any clue as to its purpose. The capital lay down to my right, only a handful of flickering fires to give away its presence in the dark. I stared into the blackness towards the palace and quietly cursed the tyrant inside it.

What was going on in Dingane’s mind, I wondered. He knew that the British and Boers had dominated the Khoi-khoi people on the southern tip of the continent and then pushed the Xhosa tribes north. He had heard that the Boers had defeated the Matabele people, who he had long tried to conquer. Dingane must know that with their firearms and horses, the white men would make formidable enemies. His brother Shaka had invited British settlers to stay at Port Natal, but Dingane had offered a vast tract of land to Gardiner and now this same territory to the Boers. The more I considered it, the more I agreed with Owen: the king had no intention of giving his land away. The gift to Gardiner was meaningless. It could be snatched back in a moment and there was nothing that Gardiner or the few British souls in Port Natal could do to stop it, even if they were minded to help the unpopular captain.

The Boers, though, were another matter. Dingane must have assumed that they would try to take some of his land whether he gave them permission or not. He could have gone to war with this powerful enemy, but instead the wily devil seemed to be trying another approach. He could draw them in with the promise of a treaty and then when their guard was down, perhaps on their journey home, when they were planning the farms they would build, he would strike. I doubted Retief and his riders would stand much of a chance, for Dingane was bound to send more reliable men this time who would get the job done. I shuddered at the memory of those black eyes boring into mine and then his casual ‘suggestion’ that I could join this doomed band.

If I was right, he was happy to kill the Boers and equally content to murder a British visitor. I half turned as a soft snore came from the hut behind me. What about the rest of them? Would they be seen as inconvenient witnesses to his treachery? I had already decided that it would be fatal to ride back with the Boers, but I had a nasty feeling that even if I managed to stay with Owen, my fate would be little better. My only hope was to get back to Port Natal and even then, I might not be safe. But how the hell was I to get away? There were no horses, only lumbering cows. I was fifty-five, for heaven’s sake. There was no way I could outrun the fit, young Zulu soldiers who would be sent in pursuit when I was discovered missing. My best chance was with a horse and for that I would have to wait for Retief and his men to arrive.

The next morning our suspicions deepened as some of the army began to arrive in Umgungundlovu. The first regiment all had shields covered in pure white hides; there were over a thousand of them. They came past our hill at a slow run, one of their commanders calling out chants as they went, to which the whole mass responded in a deep roar. They stopped at the city gates and continued their singing, clearly not tired from their journey. Stepping back and then forward, raising their spears, which glinted in the early-morning sun, they were clearly making a mock attack. Their war cry made the hair on the back of my neck stand up in alarm even from half a mile away. There were certainly enough of them to wipe every white man from the territory, but that afternoon they were joined by the black shield regiment, who gave an identical display before following the white shields into the city. Umgungundlovu must have already been packed with soldiery by then, but, incredibly, a third regiment arrived that evening. There was no more room amongst the huts in the city and so they made their camp on one of the hills outside. We watched them swarming around like ants as they made their bivouacs. Then as night fell, their fires lit the night sky in the same profusion as the stars above.

There was not a lot of conversation around the Owen dinner table that evening. I suspect that I was not the only one wondering if we had just seen our executioners. Owen gave another interminable grace prayer about the righteous entering heaven, which gave away his own sense of foreboding. Even his redoubtable wife struggled to stay resolute; I noticed her hand was trembling slightly as she poured me some water. Mrs Hulley had joined us and the two women exchanged silent looks, which spoke volumes as their children chattered carelessly beside them.

None of the adults slept well that night. I could hear the Owens whispering in their bed and I am sure at least one of them sobbed for a while. In the morning I even thought of joining their morning prayer session, for I was increasingly of the opinion that we would need Divine assistance to get out of this mess. Instead, I stepped outside to see what the regiment on the nearby hill was up to, only to find that around a hundred of them were in a pitched battle. The rest of the regiment were cheering on their fellows as they darted backwards and forwards with weapons raised. To my surprise while several took vicious stabs, they appeared to suffer no harm from their injuries and got up and fought on. I was just reaching for Owen’s glass for a closer look when young William arrived.

“What on earth is going on?” I asked. “Are they using blunted spears?”

“They are not spears at all,” he told me. “They are fighting sticks. They use them for games and ceremonial dances.”

“What is the gossip from town?” I asked, gesturing at the direction from which he had come.

“They think that the Boers will arrive today,” William announced. He looked disappointed that I showed no great reaction, but it was what I had expected. Dingane would not have moved his army any sooner than he had to, for the capital had to be bursting with soldiers by now. I had roughly counted each regiment and thought that in total there must have been around three and a half thousand men in or around the town, perhaps as many as four thousand. I was about to ask if William had any more news when we heard the sound of distant gunfire coming from behind us. It had to be the Boers; they were the only ones with guns.

“Owen, they are here,” I shouted through the door of his hut, before walking around it to stare in the direction of the noise. At first all I could see was a cloud of red dust rising between two hills. Then the dark line of a column of men emerged, followed by the hundreds of cattle that Retief had retrieved for the Zulu king. I was using Owen’s glass to study them when its owner arrived at my shoulder.

“How many are there?” he asked anxiously. “Have they brought their women and children?”

“Less than a hundred,” I told him. It was a group roughly the size of a squadron of British cavalry. “I doubt they have any women or children as they have not brought their wagons with them. They would not have abandoned those – they contain most of their possessions.”

“Oh, the Lord be praised,” Owen breathed. “I feared that my last message for the king might have persuaded some to come and then they might be… well… you know.” There were some things that were best left unsaid, and the possible fate of the Boers was one of them, not that the Dutchmen themselves seemed to have any concerns. As they got closer, we could see them waving happily to the growing crowd of Zulus who had come out of the city to welcome them. The Africans were fascinated by the horses; many would not have seen such riders before. The Boers were happy to show off their skills, some making their mounts dance sideways, while others got their steeds to rear up on their hind legs. The Zulus applauded every trick and even the regiment on the far hill had come down and were beating their fighting sticks together in approval. There was a happy carnival atmosphere. I remember Owen and I looking at each other and wondering if we had misjudged things after all.

While Zulu herdsmen drove the cattle off to pens, the rest of the Boers passed on through the gate towards the centre of Umgungundlovu. “We should go after them,” suggested Owen. “We need to warn them to be on their guard and you need to speak to Retief about leaving with them.”

“Are you mad?” I protested. “I am not going anywhere near that lion’s den until we know it is safe. There are still two Zulu regiments hiding in there, remember. There is a good chance those Boers will not survive the next hour.” At my insistence we stayed on Owen’s hilltop where, with his glass, we could look down into the central kraal. It was hard to see any detail at that distance, but at first it appeared that my worst fears were confirmed. There were crashes of more gunfire and we could see the horsemen riding backwards and forwards as though attacking. Then the shooting stopped and the smoke cleared to reveal all the Boers mounted on one side of the courtyard. Now the distant chant of a thousand Zulu voices reached us on the wind as a black line of humanity crossed the courtyard, white shields raised, and while we knew we could not hear their footsteps at that distance, there was a strange thudding as though we could. Owen and I stared at each other, perplexed as to what was happening. Two grown men, whose lives might hang in the balance wondered what to do next. Then we came to our senses and sent a twelve-year-old boy to find out.

In our defence, William Woods Junior was far better equipped for the task. The king seemed to genuinely like him for a start, which was more than could be said for us. William had many friends he could talk to in the capital and if one of us had gone, we would have had to bring him with us anyway. He was also as keen as mustard to go, wanting to know what was happening to the Boers. He raced off down the hill and was back in just over an hour. He explained that the king had wanted to see how the Boers fought and so he and Retief had arranged a mock battle in his huge central courtyard. The Dutch had charged, firing their guns in the air. Then the white shields regiment had responded but with fighting sticks instead of spears, which they had beaten on the sides of their shields making the noise we had heard. William reported that the mood in the central kraal was very friendly. The king, using Thomas Halstead, the interpreter he had sent with the Zulus who had joined the Dutchmen, was laughing and joking with Retief. By the time William had arrived the king was treating his guests to the sight of lines of dancing titties – mercifully, he had spared them his singers.

The encounter was going surprisingly well, although I could not help but wonder why Dingane was so keen to see how the Boers fought. Was it so that he could plan how to beat them? The Dutch finally left the palace to set up their camp for the night. They were led to a hill near ours and were followed by hundreds of still-curious Zulus, particularly children. As they passed by, one of the riders turned and galloped up towards our settlement. It was Halstead, who normally lived in Owen’s mission, but for now was staying with the Boers. He was laughing as he hugged the children who rushed up to greet him and then he assured us that all was well. The king had been effusive in his greeting to his Dutch guests and was all set to negotiate on the land the following morning. Indeed, one of the reasons for Halstead’s visit was to pass on Dingane’s request for Owen and William to come to the palace on the morrow to help draw up the treaty. Retief had been concerned that the Zulu leader would try to delay or prevaricate agreeing to the land grant once the cattle he had demanded had been delivered. The Dutchman had insisted that the contract be drawn up the very next day, yet Dingane had raised no objection at all. Owen was required to write the agreement while William would help with the translation.

The next morning they both set off for the palace, while I strolled down to the Boer encampment. Most of the Dutch were still there as Retief had only taken a handful of his people with him to witness the discussions. Many were older men although there were two boys amongst the group, one of whom I discovered was Retief’s son. Almost all had been away in the band recovering Dingane’s cattle when I had been in the Boer camp, but I found one I knew, who had joined for the ride to Umgungundlovu. I eagerly asked him for news of Louisa. He told me that when he had last seen her, she was well, but worried about me. He confirmed that she had got my message and so knew where I was. As I had feared, she had even tried to join Retief’s band, but they would not allow any women to come. “She is a brave dame, that one,” he had laughed. “She wanted to tell the king that he had to let you go. She even had some jewellery to use to pay a ransom.”

“She is bloody stubborn,” I countered, smiling indulgently. “Coming here was the one thing I told her not to do.” I gave a silent prayer that the Boers had stopped her, for the last thing I needed was her falling into Dingane’s clutches. I tried to banish from my mind the memory of my recent nightmare. It caused me to glance up at the nearby execution hill, which had been unused since the Dutch had arrived. “I say, are you sure you can trust this king?” I asked. “We have heard rumours that he tried to have Retief killed after his last visit and now he has ordered thousands of soldiers into the capital. You need to be on your guard.”

The man nodded and admitted that when they had left the Boer encampments, many there had thought that they were riding to their deaths. “But we have to try,” he explained. “We need land and Dingane is the only one offering it. He may want us to fight for him against his enemies, but that will be a small price to pay if there is good pasture here and we can raise our families in peace.”

“That is if he does not change his mind and butcher them first,” I warned.

My companion nodded grimly that such a thing was a possibility. “Let us see how the negotiations go,” he suggested. “For if he gives us everything we want and makes no demands, that will be a sign that he plans to play us false.”

I explained that Dingane had agreed I could leave with the Boers, and asked if I could borrow a horse. This was no problem as they had brought several spare animals. I was still undecided if I would ride with them all the way back to their camp in the hope that the Zulus would not ambush the party, or to break away and go to Port Natal. If I was not murdered first, I would see Louisa sooner if I rode with the Boers, yet I could easily travel on to her from the coast. I too would await the outcome of the negotiations, but having looked into Dingane’s black eyes, I would take some convincing not to ride first for the sea.

I was introduced to others among the Boers and they all displayed the same guarded optimism of the first. One remembered me as D’Urban’s messenger. I pointed out that he at least would welcome them back into British territory. Compared to Dingane, I knew who I would rather have governing me, but to my surprise the suggestion was treated with scorn.

“You British forget that we Dutch fought first for this land,” railed one greybeard. “We beat the bushmen and the Khoi-khoi, we built farms and prosperous communities and when the tribes rose against us, we dealt with them too. Now you British are here, you think you know better.” He spat in disgust before adding, “You fight to take land and then you give it back. The Xhosa think you are weak to do such a thing. There is no protection for us; our farms are raided and burned time and time again. There is no point building again on our old land. We will be better off starting somewhere new and protecting ourselves.”

“D’Urban did not want to give that land back,” I protested. “That decision was made in London.”

“My cattle’s shit has more brains than your London colonial people,” the old-timer roared. “Let them come out here and farm so that they see for themselves. And one of the first things your D’Urban did,” he added jabbing a finger at me, “was to cancel the vagrancy act so that we had thieves roaming our farms.”

There was little sense in arguing with him further and he probably had a point about the colonial office. I asked Halstead about the vagrancy act and he confirmed that D’Urban had indeed put a stop to it. The act had allowed any itinerant Khoi-khoi to be declared a vagrant. They could then be drafted into forced public labour or contracted to a farmer. Essentially, it allowed farmers to seize whoever they wanted who was not already employed and put them to work.

Owen had previously told me that another reason the Boers had moved north was to hang on to their slaves. All slaves had been freed in the territory back in 1834, although they had then been required to complete a four-year apprenticeship that finished at the end of the year. If the Boers had their own land, then British laws would not apply to them.

I stayed with the Boers for much of that day and while most were friendly and hospitable, the fact that I was British made me only marginally more trustworthy to them than the Zulu king. When I tried to suggest that they should be on their guard, they would grin and nod before often suggesting that I was just trying to persuade them to go back to their old land.

In the end I gave up and returned to Owen’s hilltop, where I waited another two hours for the cleric and William to return from the palace. They had spent all day drawing up the agreement, which had been a tortuous process. Retief and Dingane had negotiated their terms through William and when each clause had been agreed the boy would advise Owen what to write down. Then Owen slowly read out the agreement, Retief listening to him carefully, then waiting for William to translate again for the king. Between them amendments were made as the principals agreed more details. Finally, both sides were happy and Retief signed next to where Dingane had made his mark. Then the leaders who had come with Retief were also invited to sign as were two of Dingane’s generals and several of his counsellors. The deal was done: the Boers had been given their new home.