The covenant - James A. Michener [433]
The troopship put into Cape Town about an hour after dusk on 30 October 1899, in a driving rain. Since this was too late for a gala entrance, the passengers slept fitfully while those ashore prepared to greet the man they relied on to protect them from the rampaging Boers.
Early next morning Cape Town was aflutter with excitement, thousands of citizens having gathered at the docks to greet their hero. Gangways threaded with ribbons led to the ship's deck, where a monstrous cinematograph was being worked by four men in cloth caps: the arrival of the great man would be recorded in motion pictures. Bands played, little girls carried flowers, every government official was present, and a bishop offered prayer.
Precisely at nine in the morning trumpets sounded, drums rolled, and Sir Redvers Buller stepped forth to command the war effort in Africa. He was of medium height, with an enormous belly, and had a strange head which once seen could never be forgotten. It was shaped like an eggplant, heavy and triple-chinned at the bottom, rising almost to a point at the top. His small eyes almost touched at the bridge of a very large nose, which guarded a huge, bushy mustache that smothered his weak upper lip. As if he sought to accentuate the odd shape of his head, he favored a small, tight military hat with a long visor that obscured his vision.
When he spoke, his one conspicuous asset manifested itself: his voice rumbled with deep, masculine authority, but what it said was rarely understood, for a rambunctious horse had kicked out his front teeth. An irreverent Capetowner, startled by Buller's appearance, whispered, 'He looks like a distressed walrus,' but a reserve officer who knew Buller's record for extreme bravery replied, 'Sir, you are wrong. He looks like John Bull.'
General Buller proceeded directly to Government House, where he was briefed on the shocking prospects facing the English forces, for as the local officer explained: 'We are threatened on two fronts. On the west our troops are besieged at Mafeking and the diamond town of Kimberley. On the east they can't break out of Ladysmith. And we hear rumors that the Cape Afrikaners are about to rise in rebellion.'
So instead of occupying a relaxed position in Cape Town and directing his subordinate generals to dash this way and that, subduing the obstreperous Boers, Buller was faced with the awesome necessity of splitting his army into two parts and taking field command of one of them. 'I'll need time to study this,' he said, and forthwith he established his headquarters in a small house on a side street; for his living quarters he chose rooms in the Mount Nelson Hotel, and early one morning a tall, handsome man in a newly purchased uniform of major in the local corps knocked on his door.
To provide Buller with maximum support, Her Majesty's government in Cape Town had scurried about to find some young man with strong business experience to serve as economic liaison, and upon the advice of several older men, Frank Saltwood was chosen.
The men who selected him for this important post advised: 'You must find out as much about Buller as you can. Always helpful to know how a man's mind works.' For the past two weeks Frank had been doing just that, and like the military observers at the front, he was getting conflicting reports.
'Most important,' an English official said, 'he's of noble lineage. Duke of Norfolk, and all that. True gentleman, but of the rough sort.'
An English military man said, 'Enjoys the absolute confidence of the General Staff. Good Old Buller, they call him. He's welcomed at court, and Queen Victoria rather dotes on him.'
But it was a South African of Dutch-Huguenot descent who contributed the first important bit of information: 'Never forget that against the Zulu in 1879 he won the Victoria Cross. Bravery beyond description. Just set his jaw and walked right through enemy fire to rescue a group of wounded men. A man of extreme bravery. Proved it again in Egypt.'
The encomiums