The King's Marauder (33 page)

Lewrie and Mountjoy discovered that lack of enthusiasm at their first meeting, a dinner served in
Sapphire
’s great-cabins, followed by a presentation of the overall scheme, complete with large hand-drawn plans pinned to the bulkheads. Even though Lewrie had ordered his cabins scoured with vinegar, smoked with faggots of tobacco, and citronella pots set out, they all looked as if the usual stink of a warship might gag them, to start with.

The 77th Regiment of Foot was not an old or distinguished unit, and had only been raised in 1793, at the start of the War of The First Coalition, and had only taken part in one overseas expedition, and that had been the disastrous Dutch Campaign of 1798, where the British Army had been driven back to their transports by the highly-experienced French and Dutch, looking hapless, and as dangerous as so many sheep. There had been a rumour, Mountjoy learned on the sly, that the 77th would be going to the West Indies, aptly known as the “Fever Islands”, where untold thousands of British soldiers had sickened and died in the annual ravages of Malaria, Yellow Jack, Cholera, or Dysentery since the first wars over their possession.

Hence, the prices for officers’ commissions had plummeted like stunned seagulls and a great many of the original regimental officers’ mess had sold out to seek commissions in other units, resulting in an host of new, in-experienced young men.

Captain Kimbrough, for instance, was only nineteen, and Captain Bowden was eighteen. Lieutenant Staggs was seventeen, and his counterpart in the second company was only sixteen, so young and new to their uniforms and accoutrements that their leather still squeaked! The Ensigns, Litchfield and Gilliam, who had not been invited to the first introduction meeting, were even younger!

“Now, once the transport fetches-to into the wind, or comes to anchor off the beach,” Lewrie lectured, pointing to one large sheet of paper pinned to the bulkhead, “my Navy tars will haul the boats alongside, drop the scrambling nets over the side, and man the boats, here, here, and here, right under the chain platforms of
Harmony
’s shrouds to either beam. Your men will form up at the shrouds in six groups.”

“Platoons,” Major Hughes contributed.

“Right, platoons,” Lewrie amended. “At the order to man boats, you’ll see your men down into the boats, and they’ll cast off and row shoreward, forming line-abreast so all six boats, along with the four from
Sapphire
which carry my Marines, arrive on the beach, or quay, or solid ground, pretty-much as one.”

“We’re expected to
row,
sir?” Lt. Pullen asked, sounding as if that much exertion was beneath him. He looked appalled.

“The
sailors
do the rowing, Leftenant Pullen,” Hughes snapped. “Don’t be an arse.”

“You and your men sit on the thwarts in-board of the oarsmen,” Lewrie told Pullen. “Soon, as the boats ground, the sailors’ll boat their oars, and some will jump out into the surf to make sure that the boat is secure. You’ll note in
this
sketch that the dockyard built them all with a square-ish bow platform. You’ll leave your boats by the bow, run up to the edge of the beach … by platoons…” Lewrie said with a nod to Hughes, “and then set off towards your objective. My men will remain on the beach to guard the boats ’til you return.”

“If I may, sir?” Hughes interrupted. “Your men will carry the minimum of accoutrements, musket-bayonet-hanger-haversack, with spare flints and fourty cartridges-brass priming horn-cartridge box containing fourty rounds-water bottle-firelock rag to keep out the wet, and snot rag for blowing your noses, got that? Packs and blankets will not be required, as we will only be ashore for a few hours, nor will rations beyond a bit of cheese, bisquit, or a wee sausage. It will be like a boy’s first romp with a wench … in quick, and out quick.”

Pullen and Staggs tittered and blushed.

“Hopefully,
someone
is satisfied,” Marine Lieutenant Keane japed. He and his fellow officer, Lt. Roe, seemed
ages
older than the 77th’s officers, who seemed total innocents in comparison.

“We’re going to practice all this, starting tomorrow, weather and surf depending,” Lewrie told them all. “Right after breakfast, the boats will be alongside the quay to ferry you and your troops to the transport. You’ll go aboard, get assigned quarters, make up your beds, and stow away your equipment, then spend the night aboard, to get accustomed. Weather allowing, the next morning will see us out at sea, down by Europa Point or the old Chapel, or on the Eastern side in one of the bays, far from prying enemy eyes.”

“And we’ll keep at it ’til we can board the boats, land ashore, deploy, then return to the ship as quickly and as efficiently as is possible,” Major Hughes sternly said, putting them on notice. “Speed is of the essence. Success depends upon giving the enemy as little warning as possible. A question, Captain Kimbrough?” he asked to an up-raised hand.

Kimbrough crossed his arms over his chest before speaking. “It seems to me, sir, that this ship, and the transport, can be seen a long way off, so … isn’t getting to within a mile or so of the shore more than ample warning of our coming, and our intentions?”

“If done in broad daylight, aye, Captain Kimbrough,” Lewrie told him. “We intend to close the coast in the wee hours of the night, and begin the landings before dawn … at first sparrow fart.”

“In the
dark?
” Kimbrough gasped.

“Can’t be done!” Captain Bowden said, blanching. “It’d be an hopeless muddle in the dark. The men aren’t trained…!”

“The Navy does it all the time, let me remind you, sirs,” Major Hughes gruffly countered. “Right, Captain Lewrie?”

“We do, sir,” Lewrie replied. “As for fighting at night, operating in the dark, recall Lord Cornwallis’s loss of his blockhouses which sealed his fate at Yorktown, taken by the Yankee Doodles in the dark. General Bonaparte took the last forts and batteries on the peninsula in a rainy night assault, which forced us to abandon Toulon. I was there to see that’un. I took a French frigate in the South Atlantic in a stormy night with half a gale blowing. Well, there was a lot of lightning,” he admitted. “It
can
be done.”

“But the men aren’t used to…!” Bowden insisted.

“We’ll
get
them used to it,” Hughes barked, cutting him off. “That’s what the rehearsals are for. God above, you sound as if you
and
your troops think that Raw Head and Bloody Bones are lurking in the night, eager to suck your souls! The men will learn their roles, and get good at them, if
you
gentlemen explain it to them with enthusiasm, and
lead
with enthusiasm. Your confidence in them, and in the method by which we strike the enemy, will make
them
confident.”

That shut the young officers up, though it didn’t make them appear any more eager. All slumped in their chairs, arms crossed over their chests, looking abashed and sullen, sharing queasy looks among them. Lewrie wasn’t sure that that very sound advice did them much good. The task of leading put upon them was what officers
did,
what their families had paid for them to be—leaders of men! Perhaps it was the way that Hughes had imparted his sageness was the problem; too harsh and demeaning.

*   *   *

“Damned slender reeds, sir … damned slender,” Major Hughes sourly commented after the junior officers had been dismissed and sent ashore. Hughes had lingered over a last glass of wine before taking his own departure. “Christ, what a clueless pack of tom-noddies the Army is awarding commissions to these days!”

“Well, any damned fool with money can buy his way in,” Lewrie said. “One’d think, though, that they knew what their chosen careers would ask of ’em. ‘If ye can’t take a joke, ye shouldn’t o’ joined’!”

“Hah!” Hughes barked with wry humour, slapping his knee. “I have seen this over the years, Captain Lewrie. Until recently, the British Army hasn’t left their home barracks except for a brief annual week of road marches, encampments, and field exercises, and it’s all a lark of champagne, claret cups, horse racing for young officers, and high spirits in their messes each night. Mirth, glee, songs, music, the mess silver, and comfortable beds.”

“Sounds grand,” Lewrie replied, “and damn my father for shovin’ me into the Fleet!”

“It’s much the same the rest of the year, with long spells of leave for shooting, fishing, or chasing young ladies,” Hughes groused, “and once the drill for the day, the inspections once a week, is done, most young officers stroll back to the mess for drinks, leaving their men to the sergeants, and only know their troops by names in a muster book, and without their books, they wouldn’t have a clue who they are. They do not
lead,
they simply
pose
in the proper
place,
by God!”

“Can’t do that in the Navy,” Lewrie told him, “livin’ cheek by jowl with ’em for months on end, and knowin’ ’em by the odour of their farts.”

“
This
lot, Lord,” Hughes bemoaned, more than happy for Pettus to top up his glass. “Oh, I can understand that this wasn’t what they expected. They thought they’d be in the chummy comfort of the mess, with the bands playing, the colours flying, the bugle calls, and the excitement of battle on a field of honour … not rolling about in a ship, getting wet from the knees down, separated for who knows how long from their regiment, and asked to do the total unknown things.

“Home, hearth, and family is the regiment,” Hughes mused with a note of fondness in his voice. “Recruited from the same county they grew up in, for the most part, many of the rankers childhood friends. A grand system is the way we build our Army,
quite
unlike the French
levee en masse,
which rounds up unwilling conscripts and shoves hordes of strangers together.”

Lewrie would have mentioned that the Royal Navy
pressed
hordes of strangers together, but didn’t think it was a good idea, even if it resulted in tightly-bound ships’ companies in the end.

“I expect you will lead our young fellows to the
water,
as it were,
and
make them drink, whether they like it or not,” Lewrie said in jest.

“Damned right I shall, sir!” Hughes exclaimed. “By the time I am done, they’ll know their stuff and swear that they
volunteered
for the privilege!”

“I have no doubt you will, sir,” Lewrie stated.

“What we’re to do, you know, Captain Lewrie,” Hughes said after a swig of wine, “is revolutionary, a method of attack never before attempted. Why, with a few more transports and some escorting warships, I can easily envision the landing of a whole battalion of specially-trained troops at once, overwhelming any objective, defended or not. What was it you called it in your proposal which you sent to Sir Hew … an
amphibious
operation? God, a fully-established Amphibious Regiment on Army List, perhaps someday an entire Amphibious Brigade! And the officers in at the beginning leading and training the additional troops to glory, honour, and promotion, hah!”

“Well, only if we make a success of it, mind,” Lewrie told him.

“We shall, we shall, by God!” Hughes boasted.

And you’ll be Colonel of the regiment, or be made Brigadier, or be knighted for it?
Lewrie thought;
Damn, but he dreams ambitious!

“Well, sir, I must take my leave,” Hughes said after tossing back the last of his wine, and rising. “It’s Mess Night at the headquarters, and we’ve a fresh bullock from Tetuán. Moroccan cattle don’t make the
best
roast beef, but they’ll do in a pinch, hah hah!”

“See you aboard the transport in the morning, then,” Lewrie said, “though I would’ve thought that your last night ashore for some time would be better spent with your mysterious dining companion.”

“Time enough for her,
after
a good supper,” Hughes said with a wink as he clapped on his grandly feathered bicorne.

“I’ll see you to the entry-port, sir,” Lewrie offered, thinking that if he were in Hughes’s shoes, he’d have given the roast beef supper a
wide
miss.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Mine arse on a
band-box,
the…!” followed a moment later by “the cretinous, cack-handed, cunny-thumbed bloody …
lubbers!
”

Lewrie’s oldest and worst cocked hat was flung to the deck for the third time, and it wasn’t even eleven in the morning, yet, but the latest attempt to dis-embark the soldiers of the 77th from
Harmony
to the boats was no better than the first three over the last five days, and Lewrie was sure that it was disappointing enough to make the Archbishop of Canterbury start kicking children!

“It might look better in the dark, sir,” Lt. Westcott quipped.

“If we ever get that far, we’ll drown the whole crippled lot, and start fresh!” Lewrie roared. “These people couldn’t climb down off a bloody
foot-stool!
”

It ain’t even that rough a morning,
Lewrie bemoaned, watching the Redcoats swaying and clinging for dear life to the scrambling nets, and the easy pitch of the waiting boats alongside the transport. The sea was mild-enough, though there was moderate, foaming surf at the foot of the Rock, sweeping in to wet every inch of the narrow beach, and spew round the rocks. What he had estimated to only take ten to fifteen minutes had turned out to be closer to half an hour just to get them all aboard and settled, much yet to get the boats ashore.

Off
Sapphire
’s bows, his own four boats were already filled with his Marines, loafing in a rough line-abreast about a cable off, waiting for the Army to sort themselves out.

“My thanks, again, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie said to his First Officer in a brief, calm moment. “The boat, ye know. How and where ye got it…”

“Best not enquire, sir,” Westcott said, with a taut grin. “The less you know, the better.”

The smallest of their boats, the 18-footer jolly boat, had disappeared, miraculously replaced one dark night by a spanking-new 25-foot cutter to match the one they had, and when the sun rose, there it was, painted white with sapphire-blue gunn’ls just like their others. Admittedly, the paint had still been
wet,
but…! The jolly boat had been too small to be useful except for carrying a very few passengers ashore and back, or rowing the Bosun round right after anchoring to see that the yards were level and squared with each other. He was the only one who missed it.