They were all silenced by this bitter invective, and Mr Rhodes looked around at their faces before he went on.
‘There are thirty-eight thousand Englishmen on the goldfields of Witwatersrand, Englishmen who pay nineteen of every twenty pounds of the revenue that flows into Kruger’s coffers, Englishmen who are responsible for every bit of civilization in that benighted little republic, and yet Kruger denies them the franchise, they are taxed mercilessly and denied representation. Their petitions for the vote are greeted in the Volksraad by the contemptuous derision of a motley assembly of untutored oafs.’ Rhodes glanced at Fitzpatrick. ‘Am I being unfair, Percy? You know these people, you live with them on a day-to-day basis. Is my description of the Transvaal Boer accurate?’
Percy Fitzpatrick shrugged. ‘Mr Rhodes is correct. The Transvaal Boer is a different animal from his Cape cousins. The Cape Dutch have had the opportunity of absorbing some of the qualities of the English way of life. By comparison they are an urbane and civilized people, while the Transvaaler has unfortunately lost none of the traits of his Dutch ancestry: he is slow, obstinate, hostile, suspicious, cunning and malevolent. It galls a man to be told to go to hell by that ilk, especially when we ask only for our rights as free men, the right to vote.’
Mr Rhodes, not long to be denied the floor, went on.
‘Not only does Kruger insult our countrymen, but he plays other more dangerous games. He has discriminated against British goods with punitive tariffs. He has given trade monopolies in all essential mining goods, even dynamite, to members of his family and government. He is blatantly arming his burghers with German guns and building a corps of German Krupp artillery, and he is openly flirting with the Kaiser.’ Rhodes paused. ‘A German sphere of influence in the midst of Her Majesty’s domains would forever damn our dreams of a British Africa. The Germans do not have our altruism.’
‘All that good yellow gold going to Berlin,’ Ralph mused softly, and immediately regretted having spoken, but Mr Rhodes did not seem to have heard, for he went on.
‘How to reason with a man like Kruger? How can one even talk to a man who still believes implicitly that the earth is flat?’
Mr Rhodes was sweating again, although it was cool in the room. His hand shook so that as he reached for his glass, he knocked it over, and the golden cognac spread across the polished table-top. Jordan rose quickly and mopped it up before it could cascade into Mr Rhodes’ lap, and then he took a silver pillbox from his fob pocket, and from it placed a white tablet close to Mr Rhodes’ right hand. The big man took it, and still breathing heavily, placed it under his tongue. After a few moments his breathing eased and he could speak again.
‘I went to him, gentlemen. I went to Pretoria to see Kruger at his own home. He sent a message with a servant, that he could not see me that day.’
They had all of them heard this story, their surprise was only that Mr Rhodes could recount such a humiliating incident. President Kruger had sent a black servant to one of the richest and most influential men in the world with this message:
‘I am rather busy at the moment. One of my burghers has come to discuss a sick ox with me. Come back on Tuesday.’
‘God knows,’ Doctor Jim intervened to break the embarrassed silence. ‘Mr Rhodes has done everything a reasonable man could. To risk further insult from this old Boer could bring discredit not only on Mr Rhodes personally, but on our Queen and her Empire.’ The little doctor paused and looked at each of his listeners in turn. Their faces were rapt, they waited intently for his next words. ‘What can we do about it? What must we do about it?’
Mr Rhodes shook himself, and looked at the young staff officer in his resplendent mess kit.
‘Bobbie?’ he said in invitation.
‘Gentlemen, you may be aware that I have just returned from the Transvaal.’ Bobbie White lifted a leather briefcase from the floor beside his chair to the table, and from it produced a sheaf of crisp white paper. He passed a sheet to every man at the table.
Ralph glanced at his copy, and started slightly. It was the order of battle of the army of the South African Republic. His surprise was so intense that he missed the first part of what Bobbie White was saying.
‘The fort at Pretoria is under repair and extension. The walls have been breached for this purpose and will be entirely vulnerable to a small determined force.’ Ralph had to force himself to believe what he was hearing. ‘Apart from the corps of artillery, there is no regular standing army. As you can see from the paper before you, the Transvaal depends upon its citizen commandos for defence. It requires four to six weeks for them to assemble into an effective force.’
Bobbie White finished his recital, and Mr Rhodes turned from him to Percy Fitzpatrick.
‘Percy?’ he invited.
‘You know what Kruger calls those of us whose capital and resources have developed his gold-mining industry for him? He calls us the “Uitlanders”, the “Outlanders”, the “Foreigners”. You know also that we Outlanders have elected our own representatives, which we call the “Johannesburg Reform Committee”. I have the honour to be one of the elected members of that Committee, and so I speak for every Englishman in the Transvaal.’ He paused and carefully dressed his moustache with his forefinger, and then went on. ‘I bring you two messages. The first is short and simple. It is, “We are determined and united to the cause. You may rely upon us to the utmost.”’
The men about the table nodded, but Ralph felt his skin tingle. They were taking this seriously – it was not some boyish nonsense. They were plotting one of the most audacious acts of piracy in history. He kept his expression serious and calm with an enormous effort as Fitzpatrick went on.
‘The second message is in the form of a letter signed by all the members of the Reform Committee. With your permission I shall read it to you. It is addressed to Doctor Jameson in his capacity as Administrator of Rhodesia, and it reads as follows:
Johannesburg.
Dear Sir,
The position of matters in this state has become so critical that we are assured that at no distant period there will be a conflict between the Transvaal government and the Uitlander population …’
As the letter unfolded, Ralph recognized that it was a justification for armed insurrection.
‘A foreign corporation of Germans and Hollanders is controlling our destinies, and in conjunction with the Boer leaders endeavouring to cast them in a mould which is wholly alien to the genius of the British peoples …’
They were going to try to take by force of arms the richest gold reef in existence, Ralph sat bemused.
‘When our petition for franchise was debated in the Transvaal Volksraad, one member challenged the Uitlanders to fight for the rights they asked for, and not a single member spoke against him. The Transvaal government has called into existence all the elements necessary for armed conflict.
It is under these circumstances that we feel constrained to call upon you, as an Englishman, to come to our aid should a disturbance arise. We guarantee any expense you may incur by helping us, and we ask you to believe that nothing but sternest necessity has prompted this appeal.’
Percy Fitzpatrick looked up at Doctor Jim, and then finished.
‘It is signed by all the members of the committee, Leonard, Phillips, Mr Rhodes’ brother Francis, John Hays Hammond, Farrar and by myself. We have not dated it.’
At the head of the table, Zouga Ballantyne let out his breath in a low whistle, but nobody else spoke while Jordan rose and passed down the table re-filling each glass from the crystal decanter. Mr Rhodes was slumped forward over the table, his chin resting on the heel of his hand, staring out of the windows down across the lawns towards the far blue line of hills, the Hills of the Indunas, where once the Matabele king’s kraal had stood. Everybody at the table waited for him, until at last he sighed heavily.
‘I much prefer to find a man’s price, and pay it, rather than to fight him, but we are not dealing with a normal man here. God save us al
l from saints and fanatics, give me a solid rogue every time.’ His head turned towards Doctor Jameson, and the dreaming blue eyes focused. ‘Doctor Jim,’ he invited, and the little doctor rode his chair back on its hind legs and thrust his hands deep into his pockets.
‘We will need to send five thousand rifles and a million rounds of ammunition into Johannesburg.’
Intrigued and fascinated despite himself, Ralph interrupted to ask, ‘Where will you – where will we get those? They are not common trade goods.’
Doctor Jim nodded. ‘That’s a good question, Ballantyne. The rifles and ammunition are already in the mine stores of De Beers at Kimberley.’
Ralph blinked, the plot was far advanced, further than he had believed possible. Then he recalled the little doctor’s suspicious behaviour at the base camp from which they had discovered the Harkness reef. They must have been busy for months. He must find out all the details.
‘How will we get them into Johannesburg? They’ll have to be smuggled in, and it’s a bulky shipment—’
‘Ralph,’ Mr Rhodes smiled. ‘You didn’t really believe you were invited here for a social luncheon. Who would you judge to be the most experienced of us in shipping weapons? Who carried the Martini rifles to Lobengula? Who is the shrewdest transport operator on the sub-continent?’
‘Me?’ Ralph was startled.
‘You,’ agreed Mr Rhodes, and as Ralph stared at him, he felt a sudden unholy excitement welling up within him. He was to be at the centre of this fantastic conspiracy, privy to every detail. His mind began to race, he knew intuitively that this was one of the opportunities that comes a man’s way once in a lifetime, and he had to wring from it every last advantage.
‘You will do it, of course?’ A small shadow passed across the penetrating blue eyes.
‘Of course,’ said Ralph, but the shadow persisted. ‘I am an Englishman. I know my duty,’ Ralph went on quietly and sincerely, and he saw the shadow clear from Mr Rhodes’ eyes. That was something he could believe in, something he could trust. He turned back to Doctor Jameson.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mr Rhodes said. ‘We interrupted you.’ And Jameson went on:
‘We will raise a mounted force of around six hundred picked men here—’ and he looked at John Willoughby and Zouga Ballantyne, both of them proven soldiers. ‘I will rely heavily on you two.’ And Willoughby nodded, but Zouga frowned and asked,
‘Six hundred men will take weeks to ride from Bulawayo to Johannesburg.’
‘We will not start from Bulawayo,’ Jameson replied evenly. ‘I have the approval of the British government to maintain a mobile armed force in Bechuanaland, on the railway concession strip which runs down the border of the Transvaal. The force is for the protection of the railway, but it will be based at Pitsani, a mere one hundred and eighty miles from Johannesburg. We can be there in fifty hours’ hard riding, long before the Boers could raise any kind of resistance.’
It was at that moment that Ralph realized that it was feasible. Given Doctor Leander Starr Jameson’s legendary luck, they could pull it off. They could take the Transvaal with the same ease as they had seized Matabeleland from Lobengula.
By God, what a prize that would be! A billion pounds sterling in gold, annexed to Rhodes’ own land, Rhodesia. After that everything else was possible – British Africa, a whole continent. Ralph was stunned at the magnitude of the design.
It was Zouga Ballantyne again who unerringly identified the fatal flaw in the scheme. ‘What is the position of Her Majesty’s government? Will they support us?’ he asked. ‘Without them it will all be in vain.’
‘I have just returned from London,’ Mr Rhodes replied. ‘While I was there I dined with the colonial secretary, Mr Joseph Chamberlain. As you know, he has instilled a new spirit of vigour and determination into Downing Street. He is in complete sympathy with the plight of our subjects in Johannesburg. He is also fully aware of the dangers of German intervention in southern Africa. Let me just assure you all that Mr Chamberlain and I understand each other. I can say no more at this stage, you must trust me.’
If that is true, Ralph thought, then the chances of complete success were better than even. The swift thrust to the heart of the unprepared enemy, the uprising of armed citizenry, the appeal to a magnanimous British government, and finally the annexation.
As he listened to the planning, Ralph was swiftly calculating the consequences of the successful outcome of the plot. The chief of these were that the British South Africa Company and De Beers Consolidated Diamond Company would become the richest and most powerful commercial enterprises on the face of the earth, and they were Mr Rhodes’ alter ego. Ralph’s anger and hatred returned so fiercely that his hands trembled, and he had to place them carefully in his lap, but still he could not prevent himself glancing at his younger brother.
Jordan was staring at Mr Rhodes with such an expression of naked adoration that Ralph was certain that every other man at the table must see it too, and he was sickened with shame. He need not have concerned himself, they were all caught up in the glory and grandeur of one man’s dream, carried forward by the charisma and compelling leadership of the shaggy colossus at the head of the table.
Yet it was still Zouga the pragmatic soldier who probed for flaws and faults.
‘Doctor Jim, will you be raising all six hundred men here in Rhodesia?’ he asked.
‘For reasons of secrecy and expediency, we cannot raise them in Cape Colony, or anywhere else, for that matter,’ Jameson nodded. ‘With the rinderpest scourge having swept away their fortunes, there will be that number and more of young Rhodesians eager to enlist if only for the pay and the rations, and all of them will be good fighting men who rode against the Matabele.’
‘Do you think it wise to leave this country stripped bare of its able-bodied men?’
Mr Rhodes frowned quickly as he intervened. ‘It would be only for a few short months, and we do not have an enemy to fear, do we?’
‘Don’t we?’ Zouga asked. ‘There are tens of thousands of Matabele—’
‘Oh come now, Major,’ Jameson cut in. ‘The Matabele are a defeated and disorganized rabble. General St John will be acting Administrator of the territory in my absence, perhaps he is the best person to set your fears at rest.’
They all looked to the tall man at Jameson’s side, and Mungo St John removed the long cheroot from his mouth and smiled, crinkling the corner of his single eye.
‘I have two hundred armed native police whose loyalty is unquestioned. I have informers placed in every large Matabele village who will give me warning of any stirrings. No, Major, I give you my assurance that the only enemy we need take into account is the obstinate old Boer in Pretoria.’
‘I accept that from a soldier of General St John’s calibre,’ said Zouga simply, and turned back to Mr Rhodes. ‘Can we discuss the details of raising this force: how much money do we have at our disposal?’
Ralph watched their faces as they planned and argued, and with surprise saw that his own father’s was as greedy and eager as any of them. Whatever words came from their mouths, Ralph thought, whatever they seem to be talking about, what they are actually talking about is money.
Suddenly Ralph remembered that dawn over the barren Karroo, when he had knelt alone in the desert and sworn an oath, calling on God to witness it, and he now had to use all his will-power to prevent himself from looking up at Mr Rhodes. He knew that this time he could not conceal it from him, so he kept his eyes on the crystal glass of cognac in front of him, while he strove for self-control and forced himself to think dispassionately.
If it were possible to destroy this giant of a man, was it not also possible to destroy his Company, to wrest from it the powers of government and the land rights and the mineral rights that it held over all Rhodesia?
Ralph felt the thrill of it humming through his blood as he realized that this might be not only the chance for fierce vengeance, but also for vast fortune, within his grasp. If the plot failed, the
n the shares of the gold-mining companies involved, Corner House mining group, Rand Mines, Consolidated Goldfields, would all crash with it. A simple bear coup on the Johannesburg stock exchange could net millions of pounds.
Ralph Ballantyne felt a sense of awe at the magnitude of the prospect that faced him, a prospect of power and wealth such as he had never dreamed of until this moment. He almost missed the question, and looked up when Mr Rhodes repeated it.
‘I said, how soon can you leave for Kimberley to take charge of the shipments, Ralph?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Ralph replied evenly.
‘I knew we could rely upon you,’ Mr Rhodes nodded.
Ralph had lingered deliberately to be the last to leave King’s Lynn.
Now he and his father stood on the veranda and watched the dust column raised by Mr Rhodes’ mule coach dwindling away down the hill. Ralph leaned against one of the whitewashed pillars that supported the roof, with his sunbrowned muscular arms folded across his chest and his eyes crinkled against the spiralling smoke of the cheroot between his teeth.
‘You aren’t naïve enough to accept young Percy’s estimate of the Boers, are you, Papa?’
Zouga chuckled. ‘Slow, suspicious, malevolent and all that nonsense.’ He shook his head. ‘They ride hard and shoot straight, they have fought every black tribe south of the Limpopo—’
‘Not to mention our own soldiers,’ Ralph reminded him. ‘Majuba Hill, 1881, General Colley and ninety of his men are buried on the peak, the Boers didn’t lose a single man.’
‘They are good soldiers,’ Zouga admitted, ‘but we will have surprise on our side.’