The howitzer was assembled, the gun crew hand-picked by the gunner’s mate. Kydd waited patiently. As soon as it was light, the howitzer was carefully sited and loaded, and when the faint sound of the reveille sounded on the still air, he gave the first order. The ugly little gun banged angrily into the morning peace and, seconds later, a shell exploded short of the rear wall of the fort.
The distant trumpet’s sound was cut off, as if with a knife. Moments later it was urgently baying the call to arms.
Another shell detonated close to one side. ‘Easy, Mr Stirk – this only to wake ’em up.’
After the third, men were at the embrasures to repel the mysterious attackers from inland, then began issuing out and massing for a counter-attack.
Time for the final order. Kydd stood and gave the signal. As one, L’Aurore’s entire complement, seamen, marines, every man and boy in her crew, dressed in anything that was red, slowly stood up – and all along the skyline, hundreds of English redcoats could be seen forming line for a merciless attack from the unprotected direction.
The effect was instant: in moments there was not a man left outside the walls of the fort.
Another shell burst close, its smoke wreathing the air and wafting back over the defenders.
‘Last round, sir.’ It duly banged out, but its effect was decisive. As Kydd watched, the colours were jerked down in ignominious defeat.
Chapter 7
‘Ah, Renzi – I’d like you to meet Mijnheer Willem van Ryneveld,’ Baird said jovially, although his eyes remained cool and appraising. ‘In the last government under Janssens he was head man, as, who’s to say, their fiscal. Sir, this is Mr Nicholas Renzi, our colonial secretary.’
Civil bows were exchanged and, murmuring a greeting, Renzi took in the neat and intelligent features, the sharp beard and restrained but stylish dress.
‘Shall you entertain Mr Ryneveld, old fellow?’ Baird went on. ‘I’m to consult on military matters this morning, I believe.’
It was prearranged, but Renzi pretended to be taken by surprise and suggested a walk outside in the early-morning air. ‘I do suppose there’s much to consider,’ he said, affecting a leisurely stroll.
‘Yes, Mr Renzi,’ Ryneveld said, in a quiet and precise tone, falling into step beside him.
Renzi hesitated. This was a crucial time: if the previous ruling class took against them, their position would be untenable. If, on the other hand, concessions were offered, would it be taken as a sign of weakness?
His task was to sound out the chief figure in the previous administration, get a view on the distribution of allegiances and delicately allude to the advantages of co-operation.
He stopped to admire the rearing bulk of Table Mountain, so close. ‘Such a magnificent prospect, Mr Ryneveld,’ he said. ‘A sight to transport the Romantics to ecstasy!’
The man stood attentive, but silent.
‘And how curious it is that the mountains in Africa rear out of the earth so very abruptly,’ Renzi continued. There was still the same polite attention as he added, ‘Is this perhaps why we can so easily distinguish ranges at a distance, with none other to obtrude?’
He let the question hang and eventually Ryneveld answered: ‘Singular, perhaps. I’ve heard that the Great Winterhoek is still visible at eighty miles.’
They reached the end of the parade-ground and turned together. Then Renzi saw a tiny ghost of a smile. He couldn’t help but grin back and they chuckled. The ice had been broken.
‘Shall we talk?’ Ryneveld said.
‘By all means.’
‘Then I’d hazard that if I should be so impertinent as to make query as to the intentions of the new order, you would be exercised as to how these might be implemented.’
Renzi allowed a measure of concern to enter his voice. ‘The colony faces hunger and danger – common humanity demands we come to an understanding.’
‘Then might I know how your governance is to be achieved?’ Ryneveld asked cautiously.
‘I cannot speak for General Baird—’
‘Of course.’
‘– yet I do sense that he appreciates the care and tolerance of the Dutch in their past administration and is minded to emulate it.’
‘A pity if that were so.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Renzi said in surprise.
‘The previous establishment – the Batavians – were in thrall to Bonaparte, who controls their nation. Decisions here were not necessarily taken in our best interests. Shall you?’
‘Sir, our purpose here is not in the character of conqueror. We are, as it were, obliged to make landing and occupation in order to prevent the French from seizing a strategic position that would enable them to sever our trade routes to India, nothing more.’
‘That much is apparent, sir.’
‘Therefore it is not in prospect to exploit the colony for its manufactories or resources.’ Renzi paused, then said significantly, ‘Which supposes our best course is to allow the continuance of the system of government that prevails.’
He saw an unmistakable gleam of interest. ‘This to include the code of law, currency, rights of property – what say you, sir, to a restoration of all the traditional customs and trade practices as have been in place in Cape Town for these centuries past?’
‘All?’
‘Just so.’
‘Then I’d be compelled to describe it as a mistake, sir.’
Renzi was taken aback. This, from the previous first man of government? ‘May I know why?’ he asked, after a space.
‘The Batavian government is recent, a parvenu. Our origins are far in the past as we were founded by the Dutch East Indies Company to be naught but a victualling stop on the way to the Spice Islands. They ruled until a handful of years ago and their motives were selfish, their loyalty only to their shareholders. A polity such as this has no right to rule, still less to be imitated.’
‘Are you then a radical, sir? Do you despise the former ways?’ Renzi asked. If he were, it would instantly disqualify him for any position in the administration they were trying to bring together. A revolution would be a distinct liability in their precarious situation – and where would be their ready-made civil service?
‘Not at all. The Dutch ways are direct, practical and well suited to this land.’
‘Then?’
‘I was fiscal in the previous government. There are regulations I would strike down and there are laws I would strengthen. It’s a small, inward-looking society of many races and beliefs and requires careful nurturing. Do you know that in Cape Town today the slave population exceeds the free by thousands? That the Malay Muslims demand their own burying ground? That the Xhosa people speak by the clicking of tongues?’
It was becoming clearer: Ryneveld was making a bid for power in the new administration on the grounds of indispensability. But would he commit publicly to collaborating with the conquerors?
‘For myself, I’m a newcomer of days only,’ Renzi said neutrally. ‘These curiosities deserve attention, and insights from one of undoubted understanding would be well taken. However, it’s in contemplation to go much further – to entrust the well-running of the settlement to the people of Cape Colony themselves. Do you think it wise to allow the upper reaches of such a governance to be in Dutch hands or would it be prudent to staff it with English appointees?’
‘If you are sincere in your desire to bring forward the natural aspirations and feelings of the inhabitants of the Cape, then only the totality of what exists, the continuation of the known order, will bring the confidence and contentment in its administration that you stand in need of.’
Renzi nodded gravely. ‘If there will be one who stands for the people of Cape Colony, would it not be seen that such would be in the pay of the English and therefore betrayed his countrymen?’