Michael Dun - 1. Chapter 1

BRITISH COLONIAL OFFICE

- ENGLAND

Lord Granville was one of an unseen few who advised Queen Victoria.

The public had never seen him, never heard him, and would not miss him.A soft-spoken man, he carried the world in aging hands and was on the lookout for a coup to revive the confidence of his lost youth.

At an age when retirement was in sight, he had not reached his peak. A regretful situation for any one with more to achieve. Leaning back in a brown leather chair, he twined his wiry fingers together as if entertaining some deep thought.

Michael Dun sat opposite him.

A formal looking gentleman with a fair moustache and high brow. Dressed in his shiniest spats and bow.

Granville exclaimed, “St. Mary’s elbow! I cannot believe the resemblance to your father.”

“What is all this about?” Michael Dun asked, his face a sea of confusion bordering on anger after having been abducted almost against his will, by Granville’s agent.

Granville held himself straight and bragged an arrogant smile, then launched into a tirade of words. “Every now and then, an event takes the world by storm and changes the order we know so well.” His forehead stretched as he spoke, and he played with the small gold ring on his little finger. “Man lives in a world of revolutions, new nations, rival imperial power and scientific discovery, and a great event is unfolding even as we speak. Britain wants to be a part of that event.”

“And what is that event sir?”

“The discovery of gold in the Republic of the Transvaal. South Africa.”

Michael swallowed hard, realising there was much more to this. “A rather luxurious benefit to Britain.” He observed.

Granville did not hear him, he was far too busy analyzing the Boer: “They were a poor and subdued society,” he told the young Michael Dun. “British laws were not good enough for them so they journeyed from the Cape and Natal colonies to escape. Their economy, based on farming, and more recently diamonds, is becoming a lucrative market and Her Majesty’s government understands there had been a discovery in the Mount Sheba district of Barberton, also in the Heidelburg district. Should there be more gold, the colonial office expects a full-scale rush. Kruger is not saying much about the discoveries, and the Queen is impatient with his silence. She requires full control over the South African Republic. She has a fair amount of expatriates and citizens there and they need protection. I must stress that the entire world’s economy should benefit from such a discovery in a short time, but first, the British must overcome the Boer.”

Michael took the gap. “I admire the strength and agility of our military might, Sir. Surely “control” is a harsh word. This would mean war. The last war, fought and lost, was at Majuba, barely five years ago. Are you not being hasty, sir?"

Lord Granville leaned forward. His voice tutorial, “The British are a conquering nation of royalists. They will have their own way no matter how ‘unmajestic’ the cause. For now, the government requires the process of immigration to South Africa made easier. First, they need information concerning the gold fields, and we want you to do it.” Granville said, directly.

“Me, Sir?”

“You have balls, Michael. Balls and an iron will. Much like your father. We need your help, it is as simple as that.”

“How can I possibly help you, Sir?”

“We know you keep a diary. We want facts. Despatched each fortnight. We know, from high places, that the Standard Bank will soon be opening a branch if the rumours prove to be true. The Pretoria government plans to build a post office. Something is happening that we are not too sure of, find out and let us know. You are going to Africa.”

“There must be some danger involved…” Michael said.

Granville reminded him that Africa was a mysterious and dangerous place. “Her Majesty and Salisbury understand this. But you have the soul of a lion, and we know you can do it. We are concerned with only the gold fields, its people and its yield. We shall pay your journey and supply you with all the finance you require.”

“You are prepared to do this in return for information?”

“Once there, you will be on your own, Michael. Your task is to remain in the Republic and search for gold in this area.” He turned to a large map covering Southern Africa and pointed to an area known as the Transvaal. “Your affiliation with us does not exist. When the time comes, we will inform you what to do. Until then we will receive your briefs every two weeks.”

Michael boldly stepped up to the map and focused on the area, he found the Vaal, Orange and Tugela Rivers, he found the Drakensberg (Mountain of the Dragon) that danced from the north, down to the Cape in the South. A pin was neatly placed on the map at a place called Raandjieslaagte.

“Do I have an option?”

“At this stage, no. A toast to a long and efficacious relationship! Wine, young man?”

“Thank you. Another question, if I might be so bold as to ask?”

“Ask anything you like.”

Michael hesitated at first. “Do you know everything about me?”

“It seems you have no plans to marry. Your ambition is to be of service to Queen and government. We know you are strong and able to think on your feet. You have the wit and perseverance we require. You are unattached; you have no financial commitments. You are an astute student of the soil and you are a royalist. That is all there is to know that is important. The rest is your affair. When you arrive on the Rand, you will stake your claim and continue as any other miner.” Granville poured white wine into a glass and handed it to Michael who sipped at it slowly, “…And that is it.”

Michael suddenly barked with laughter. He quieted down and mumbled, “I do not believe that I am hearing this. Excuse my impertinence sir. Did you study that map? It is an angry place of jungles and rivers and mountains that I have never dreamed of. What is in this for me?”

“Recognition.” Granville said.

“What kind of recognition?”

“Perhaps a Knighthood? Of-course, if you fail, or if you place Her Majesty’s government in a compromising position…well, that would be another matter. I am positive that Her Majesty’s government has entrusted this task to a wise individual who will remain in Her service for many years to come.” Lord Granville raised his glass. “A toast to you, lad. And good luck.”

^*

The carriage rolled along to the rhythm of the horses hooves and nothing seemed the same any more. Perhaps it was the feeling of complete and utter shock at the realisation that he now worked for her Majesty, Queen Victoria. It was much more than that.

He was going away to Africa. The southern-most tip of Africa.

He alighted the steps to his flat in Maple Street and when he got to the door, noticed a telegram on the floor. He snatched it up, unfolded it, and read it aloud.

“Request return to Laburnum Stop interest in Mothers will Stop”

From Lady Gwendolyn Dun, his stepmother…

A changed young man would be returning to Laburnum on the outskirts of Coventry.

Africa would have to wait.