Zulu Hart by Saul David

George went to check on Emperor and found him quietly eating his evening ration of hay. His mind at ease, he made his way to the saloon on the main deck, where the first-class passengers were about to sit down to dinner with the captain of the ship, a jovial gentleman by the name of Wilson. The civilian passengers included a judge and his wife, the Cape attorney-general, a member of the Legislative Assembly, a Port Elizabeth businessman and George; the rest were British officers.

    ‘I’m afraid you’re slightly outnumbered on this trip,’ said Captain Wilson after George had introduced himself. ‘General Thesiger has commandeered most of the best cabins for himself and his staff.’

    George followed the line of Wilson’s gesture to a tall, bearded officer in a blue patrol jacket, of the type favoured by senior officers and staff. Though surrounded by his subordinates, Gossett among them, Thesiger had an air of restless unease, his dark eyes flitting back and forth across the room. ‘I don’t mind a bit,’ said George, his eyes still on Thesiger but warming to Wilson’s tone. ‘I used to be an officer myself.’

    ‘Did you, by God,’ said Wilson. ‘You hardly look old enough. Who were you with?’

    ‘The King’s Dragoon Guards. I resigned after five months.’

    ‘I won’t say I’m surprised,’ commented Wilson. ‘It can’t be much fun serving under Colonel Harris.’

    ‘Do you know him?’

    ‘Not personally. But I’ve read plenty about him in the papers. Wasn’t he reprimanded by the Horse Guards for spying on his own officers?’

    ‘Yes, he was,’ said George. ‘But that’s not the half of it. I could tell you stories about Harris that would make your hair curl.’

    ‘Do go on,’ said Wilson, but before George could speak they were interrupted by a steward who handed the captain a note. ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ exclaimed Wilson, as he finished reading it.

    ‘Trouble?’ asked George.

    ‘You could say that. I’ve just received word from another ship about the shooting of a private detective in Plymouth this morning. A young couple were seen fleeing from the scene of the crime towards the commercial docks and we’ve been asked to keep an eye open for them. You joined us at Plymouth. Did you notice anything suspicious?’

    ‘Not a thing,’ said George, his heart racing. ‘Did the victim survive?’

    ‘No, he died in hospital. Apparently the gunman was pretty handy with his weapon and the police suspect he has military training.’

    ‘Do they? Well, that narrows the field a little. Do the police have a description of the couple?’

    ‘There’s no mention of any description.’

    George breathed an inward sigh of relief.

    ‘Excuse me, Captain Wilson,’ interjected Gossett. ‘Could I borrow young Hart for a moment? I’d like to introduce him to General Thesiger.’

    ‘Of course,’ said Wilson.

    Thesiger was polite enough, asking George his destination, but hardly seemed to listen to the response. Until, that is, George mentioned his brief time in the army. ‘I can’t understand,’ said Thesiger, frowning, his bushy black eyebrows almost knitted, ‘why anyone would leave the army after just five months, Colonel Harris or no. None of my business, of course, but it’s a damn shame.’

    George replied that he did not want to go into the details, but that he had been left no option but to resign. What he had seen of the army, he had enjoyed very much.

    ‘How did you do at Sandhurst?’ asked Thesiger.

    ‘I passed out first.’

    ‘So we lose one of our most promising young officers because he doesn’t see eye to eye with his CO! It happens all the time, Hart. The solution is not to resign but to exchange regiments, as I myself did when I left the Rifle Brigade for the Grenadiers.’

    ‘Quite right, General,’ interrupted the officer to Thesiger’s right, a short, haughty-looking major with impressive whiskers. ‘The only honourable way to leave the