It was a last and very desperate hope, but he didn’t allow the men time to think about it. ‘Ready, all? Then go!’ He plummeted into the sea. The others joined him in a confused crash of bodies. Gasping for breath, Kydd saw what was left of the boat, awash and at a crazy angle with the spar projecting, and clumsily struck out for it.
Almost immediately there was a burbling scream and frantic splashing. Twisting round, Kydd saw a giant shark fin cleaving the water towards them at shocking speed. Before his frozen mind could react, it was on them – but, incredibly, it passed them by. Kydd felt a glancing touch from the hard, muscular body.
With frantic desperation, he flailed for the boat, grasped the gunwale and was about to heave himself in when he realised why the sharks had left them alone. Attracted by the blood in the water, they were going for the trapped bodies in savage, battering charges.
More came to join in the frenzy of snapping and tearing: when that meat was gone they would turn on anything to sate their lust for flesh. They had seconds to live.
Against the brutish frenzy the distant hoarse cry was like a dream: ‘Raak niet in paniek Engelsen, we komen!’ Kydd jerked around. A Dutch longboat was pulling strongly out for them – they had seen what had happened and humanity had overcome the imperatives of war. They were saved.
Chapter 6
‘I suppose we must address you now as “Mr Colonial Secretary Renzi”, should we not?’ Baird harrumphed, but he was clearly taken with his first appointment as governor.
‘As you wish, Sir David.’ Renzi was secretly gratified at his elevation – the honours of the post had not turned his head but at Baird’s right hand he was above the petty manoeuvring yet at the centre of events, well placed to gather his ethnical curiosities.
‘There’ll be a mort of hard work for us both, you may be sure – but satisfying for all that.’
‘Sir.’
Baird paused, then looked at him keenly. ‘Forgive me, Renzi, but you do present as something of a man o’ mystery. What makes you tick, sort o’ thing? Wine, women – any vice as will be revealed to me in due course?’
‘To me, sir, the pleasures of the mind are the more perdurant and grateful to the senses. I’ve been these last years labouring over a study that seeks to relate ethnical character to economic response and . . . and it’s showing promise,’ he ended abruptly.
‘Ethnicals! Then, sir, you should go to India. There you’ll find every kind of God-forsaken creature and outlandish practice as would be meat for a thousand tomes!’ He guffawed, then sobered in reflection. ‘With cruelty and corruption in great palaces, side b’ side with the deepest sort o’ thinkers, who’d give pause to Pythagoras himself.’
‘As opportunity permits, of course,’ Renzi answered politely. ‘The Dutch as incomers to a tribal Africa should be a diverting enough ethnical spectacle.’
Baird’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have objection to the civilising of savages?’
‘Sir, the deed is done, as is the way of the world. My interest is in its outworking, the play of peoples and nature, threat and reply, never the sterile confrontations of politics.’
‘Then I declare I’ve a colonial secretary of the first water! You’ll find there’s the conquered Dutch, the Hottentots o’ various stripe, and who knows what we’ll see up-country? All these to keep content and govern for His Majesty, and I’ve a notion you’ll have a contribution to make.’
Baird sat back, contemplating. ‘So, we begin. You have experience of conjuring a government ex nihilo, from a vacuity as it were? No? Then neither have I.’
It was going to be a task of monumental proportions: the creation of a system of rule, its codifying, and then its declaration and promulgating on a subject people. From the detail of ceremonials to the rule of law. Allegiance, tax revenues, land-holding, defence of the realm, municipal water supply.
‘I conceive, as first step, a committee, a cabinet of advisers as will give their views when asked. Not too big, say . . . half a dozen? Hmm. Dasher Popham, of course, and a military type? Ferguson will do. We’ll have a doctor – public health and so forth. Munro would like the job, I’m sure – he’s our senior regimental surgeon.’
‘Could I suggest a gentleman of an accounting persuasion?’ Renzi offered quietly. ‘We’ll be facing problems of revenue and expense of quite another kind.’
‘Just so. Then I think it’s to be Tupley, our quartermaster general. Dry old stick, but knows his financials. There’ll be others, but this will do for a start, I believe. Well, now, I must see about finding you an office and assistants, Mr Secretary. Oh, and in the matter of a salary, I fear at this stage we must be cautious. Would, say, four hundred per annum satisfy at all?’
Incredibly, his income was now greater than Kydd’s. ‘There’s need of a residence of sorts,’ Renzi replied, greatly daring.
‘Why, most certainly. Grace ’n’ favour of the Crown, of course. Can’t have a secretary as won’t be found when needed.’
‘I’m most grateful, sir.’
‘Right! Then let’s whip in this kitchen cabinet and start our business.’
‘Gentlemen. I’m grateful to see you all here at such short notice. Time is of the essence, as you’ll understand.’
It was an informal gathering: Baird at one end of a table, pointedly in civilian dress, and Renzi at the other. The rest were in military uniforms.
‘You’ll be remarking this room.’ By its location it was certainly discreet, but although smallish it had rich hangings of Dutch origin. ‘I choose to make my headquarters and reside here in the castle rather than at Government House, from where all administration of a gubernatorial nature will be conducted.’ A ghost of a smile passed. ‘Apart from feeling a damn sight safer within these walls, I judge it to be a nod to Dutch sensibilities – recollect, their governor is still at large at the head of an army.’
He neatened the papers in front of him deliberately. ‘We all know each other, o’ course, no need for introductions. Except Mr Renzi here.’ There were curious looks as he added, ‘Who is to be acting colonial secretary.’
‘Renzi?’ Popham frowned. ‘Is he not some sort of clerk in one of my vessels?’
‘Confidential secretary to Captain Kydd, Dasher. You’ll probably not be aware he’s something in the philosophical line, corresponds with Count Rumford and others in London.’
‘A philosopher clerk? We’ll be tackling high problems as will be requiring more than a mort of discretion.’
‘I’ve placed my trust in Mr Renzi, old chap. I desire him to be privy to our discussions. Now we’ve pressing business – shall we get on with it?
‘The first.’ Baird waited until he had their attention. ‘I’ve just this morning discovered the true reason for their abrupt yielding of the town.’
He grinned mirthlessly. ‘Simple. Cape Town is within three weeks of capitulation by starvation.’
There was a stunned silence. ‘After a catastrophic failure of the harvest the total amount of grain in store does not exceed two days’ consumption, and external supply by the Batavians has been very effectively discouraged by fright of our navy.’
He broke through the murmurs of concern and added, ‘Which places us in a near impossible situation. Not only have we the entire population to feed but thousands of useless mouths – our prisoners-of-war, Dutch and French, who may not be suffered to go at liberty.’
He gave an expectant look across the room. ‘General Ferguson?’
‘Send out to the farms, seize the corn stocks,’ the old soldier growled. ‘It’s their skins we’re saving.’
‘Except that the grain regions are dominated by Janssens’s army, which has moved into the Stellenbosch. We can count on nothing from the country – is it expected we’ll be starved into quitting?’