The doctor examined them, then stood up slowly. ‘No more than hours ago,’ he said, his voice falsely brisk. ‘I conceive that the man could not go on and . . . and his wife stayed by him.’
Sergeant Dodd dropped to his knees and began scooping out the sand. Cullis joined him and a little later the two bodies were laid to rest for ever.
In the cold hours before dawn they found faint footprints, but this time meandering, scuffed, meaningless. Then the moon faded and darkness returned for a time. The swell had quietened during the night, now only a lazy boom and hiss.
Daybreak finally came, and with it, the cruellest stroke. It brought a dank mist that developed into a full-scale rolling sea-fog – there was now no way of signalling to L’Aurore.
A dense fog to rival any on the Thames here on this scorching desert coast! They were trapped ashore.
Their hard tack had long since gone and their precious water was unlikely to last for much longer – should they go on?
Visibility dropped to yards and it became difficult to make out even themselves, but nobody seemed to want to slacken the pace. Hunger biting, limbs afire, they slogged on – but then Kydd held up his hand for silence. He’d heard a commotion ahead: faint cries, a general hubbub.
Pushing through the swirling fog-bank, they hurried forward, tripping painfully on dark, jagged rock shards protruding from the sands at what must be a point of land – and beyond they found themselves in the middle of a colony of seals, which, in their quarrelling, completely ignored them.
They stumbled through the bedlam. It was bitterly disappointing. At the end of his stamina, Kydd knew it would be asking too much of his men to carry on blindly in the hope of reaching the survivors, who might be a mile – five miles – ahead and still moving. They had to give up – it was not humanly possible to—
And then the fog lifted.
Chapter 10
‘And then?’ Renzi prompted, caught up in the drama of the story Kydd was telling. He made much of topping up his friend’s lemon punch and waited impatiently for him to continue.
Kydd eased his legs on the foot-cushion. ‘Nicholas, well, the fog lifted and there they were – when we got to them they fell on their knees and blessed God, because they’d taken us for savages about to finish ’em.’
‘Why ever did they think to walk to Cape Town?’
‘A falling-out. After the wrecking, with the captain dead, it was the first mate who took charge and set out in a boat with three men, leaving the second mate to command. He lost authority and was murdered by those who thought they were done for anyway and had taken to drinking.
‘It was a brave passenger who led the party out, not even knowing how far but thinking it better to do something than nothing. They were twenty-nine to begin and lost several on the way, but we ended taking off twenty-six, including a plucky mother and child.’
‘As are all singing paeans of your action in coming after them,’ Renzi said warmly. ‘It’s the talk of the town, brother!’
‘Er, Nicholas – they being Danes, shall they be . . .’
‘The governor has graciously deemed that as shipwrecked mariners they be given the liberty of Cape Town and may freely return to their homes when convenient.’
Kydd heaved himself up in the chair and changed the subject. ‘So, since I was away, the Dutch have given in.’
‘They have indeed, so quickly that General Beresford complains he’s robbed of a famous battle. In fine, the Articles of Capitulation were signed, which makes over the whole of Cape Colony to His Majesty, after General Janssens was satisfied that the honours of war would be accorded, which Baird did right nobly by him.’
‘I hear he’s been granted residence at the Governor’s House.’
‘Until he is to return to Holland, with all his troops and arms under cartel.’
‘To go back freely?’ Kydd said, in amazement. ‘This is an astonishing thing in an unconditional surrender.’
‘But a masterly stroke. Here Baird’s concluded a rapid peace. He’s won the sympathy of the Cape Dutch, with his extravagant expressions of respect for the previous governor and, above all, he need not feed and guard thousands. The French in Dutch command, of course, are prisoners-of-war and will not taste freedom.’
‘I can’t see why Janssens surrendered when he was in such a strong position among his people in the country.’
‘No mystery. His numbers were always fewer than we supposed, and Baird let it be known that we’re daily reinforced, allowing him to send as many of our troops as he chose. It was a brave gamble but it had its effect – there was no stomach to face those devils the Highlanders again in a lost cause, and in any case, the majority of his soldiers were Boer militia who deserted the colours, placing their desire to return to their farms above their duty.’
‘Then it might be said we’ve completed the conquest of the Cape.’
‘Indeed. Governor Baird is now undisputed ruler of Cape Colony, the soldiers are stood down before the civil authorities and, as we talk, are creating a bob’s-a-dying in every shageerijen in the town. Our ball has done its work for there’s much expression of amiability in the people, the merchants seeing undoubted advantage in falling in with the new order.’
‘So now we’ve nothing to worry of, you’ll be spending your days setting taxes and hearing grievances, m’ friend. Hardly a life of adventure.’
‘Well, until we get our reinforcements from England, we’re in a fragile state. In confidence, I have to tell you that a determined assault will place us in a perilous situation indeed. And Baird is troubled that we have no idea of what form the French retaliation will take, as surely it must.’
‘Never fear, old fellow! You may rest easy while the Navy’s here to look after you.’
Renzi gave his friend a conspiratorial look. ‘On quite another note, when you’re of a mind to taste the delights of the Cape, a certain lady seems to have delayed her return to her wine estate, a most uncommon thing, wagging tongues are saying. I’ve a notion that should you pay your addresses there will be an eager listener to the hero of the hour recounting his ordeal . . .’
Kydd smiled lazily. ‘Thérèse? Perhaps I shall find time to call upon the lady. And your plans?’
‘Ah. As colonial secretary my responsibilities do include the country folk. I’ve a yen to take a visit – see the lie of the land, so to speak,’ he said casually.
‘To see your curiosities of Africa is your meaning, you villain,’ Kydd chided.
Renzi chuckled. ‘All in the way of duty, of course . . . I’m minded to go to Stellenbosch, not so distant and highly regarded for its wine-growing. I may tell you of it on my return,’ he added.
Vastly content after his meal, Renzi sipped his prime Constantia, delighting in its freshness and zest, quite different from the fashionable but sombre European offerings that must make the long passage from the Cape across the equator.
The developing African sunset was at its most compelling: the quality of the spreading blaze of orange and smoky reds exceeded anything he had seen before and he absorbed it in a reverent silence.
‘Another koeksister, Jonkheer Renzi?’ Van der Riet, the landdrost of Stellenbosch and his host, asked politely. Renzi declined, surfeited by the sticky confection, but the large man helped himself to another two. They sat together in comfortable cane chairs on the stoep of the residence.
‘A good day, Mr Secretary.’
‘It was indeed,’ Renzi agreed. A steady stream of the hard-working people of this second oldest Dutch settlement had come to take the oath of allegiance, and the returns of the government muster were in scrupulous order, as were the revenue books.