“Mind, though, Captain Lewrie,” Hughes cautioned, “one mustn’t expect too much of men straight from the parade ground and the firing butts, ha ha! Takes months on campaign to make proper soldiers.”

“Well, then they’ll have less to un-learn,” Lewrie told him in good humour. “We’ll get them their sea legs, first, and their ‘duck feet,’ second. Where t’practice, though. Can’t do it here in the harbour for all the Spanish spies and watchers over in Algeciras t’see. Perpaps down by Europa Point, or a bay on the Eastern side of the Rock.”

“Bring those companies’ officers in to explain what’s needing, too,” Mountjoy suggested. “They won’t be happy with the new task.”

“I’ll see to turning them eager,” Hughes boasted.

“‘Growl they may, but go they must’, is it, sir?” Lewrie asked Hughes. “Just so they come t’see it as an adventure, not an onerous chore. Let us depart and leave Sir Hew be. He’s done us handsomely, and I’m sure he has many other pressing matters on his plate. Thank you, again, Sir Hew. We will keep you apprised of our progress, and of our first choice of objective.”

“And, it will be up to you, Sir Hew, to approve or object to our choices,” Mountjoy added to mollify the fellow.

*   *   *

“Is there a spare office where we can read you in, as it were, Major Hughes?” Lewrie asked the newly-promoted officer.

“I’m sure we can find one,” Hughes said, pulling an expensive-looking pocket watch from a breeches pocket. “Though, hmm. Do you wish to begin at once, this very hour, or might I attend to some other business first, sirs?”

“It is near Noon, aye,” Lewrie said, consulting his own watch. “Let’s say we meet back here in the Convent at one thirty?”

“Capital!” Hughes boomed. “Just topping-tine! I’ve a dinner companion, d’ye see, and can’t wait to give her the news.”

“You’re married, sir?” Mountjoy asked, wondering why a sensible man would bring a wife overseas.

“Not so’s you’d notice, no sir,” Hughes imparted, with a wink and a smirk.

“Don’t share too much,” Lewrie cautioned. “Ye never know who’s listening. Mum’s the word with civilians.”

Hughes gave him a quick scowl as if to say “will you teach my granny how to suck eggs?”, but Lewrie had seen him in action once, and was none too sure that Hughes could contain himself from bragging over his brevet promotion, his new command, and how he would sail off to win the war all by himself … as he’d boasted that day at Pescadore’s.

“One thirty, then, sirs,” Hughes agreed, putting away his watch. “I will meet you here at the appointed time. Good day!”

Hughes sailed back into his anteroom office to fetch his hat, a black beaver fore-and-aft bicorne with heavy gilt tassels to either end, adorned with swept-back egret feathers, and so arced that the tips fell almost level with his nose and his shoulder blades.

“Impressive,” Mountjoy said after he had departed.

“What, the man, or the hat?” Lewrie joshed.

“Well…” Mountjoy replied, puzzled.

“I’d not be one t’look a gift horse in the mouth, Mountjoy, but I’ve seen him before,” Lewrie explained as they made their own way out of the headquarters building to the street, and their own dinner. “Here on Gibraltar, the other day,” he went on, describing his meal at the seafood house, and Hughes’s demeanour with his girl.

“Was she fetching, sir?” Mountjoy asked, looking a tad askance.

“Aye, she definitely was,” Lewrie confessed.

“Perhaps her being with him has prejudiced you against him,” Mountjoy suggested. “A bit of jealousy, what?”

“I’ll allow that that plays a part, but only a wee’un,” Lewrie shrugged off. “Remember the old adage, ‘great talkers do the least, we see’? He’s a grand talker, is Brevet-Major Hughes. Why, I wonder, is he seconded to staff work, and not with his regiment?”

“Surplus to requirements?” Mountjoy pondered.

“Tosh!” Lewrie dismissed. “He bought himself a commission for life in the 53rd, and once in, an officer is always a member of that regiment ’til he’s too old t’serve and he sells his rank out to the highest bidder, gets crippled or dies, or gets cashiered for conduct un-becoming, or plain stupidity. Most-like, after a few years, the others in his mess couldn’t stand the bastard, and when Dalrymple was castin’ about for an aide-de-camp, they saw their chance t’be shot of him!”

“Or, he makes General,” Mountjoy pointed out. “Maybe Captain … Major Hughes, rather … has better connexions than most, and his posting is a way to give him a leg up to a substantive Majority, not a brevet rank. From his uniform and his kit, I’d imagine that he’s a fellow from a wealthy family, eager for his advancement. Money, and ‘interest’, go hand in hand, after all.”

“Perhaps,” Lewrie grudgingly allowed.

“I hope you do not hold anything against him, sir,” Mountjoy said in a soft voice. “Getting him, and those troops, has been as hard as pulling Sir Hew’s teeth … if he had many left. Now we’re on the cusp, I would hate for any grudges to hamper us.”

Damme, he’s all but givin’ me orders! Lewrie thought in shock. Mountjoy had been his clueless, landlubberly, ink-stained clerk back in the long-ago, a lad more than ten years his junior, and it cut rough to be chided, even in the mildest way! He was a bloody civilian, for God’s sake!

“‘Yes sir, no sir, two bags full’,” Lewrie growled, pretending to tug at his forelock like a tenant or day-labourer. “I promise to be good, Daddy.” Which drew a laugh from Mountjoy.

“I wonder where he’s dining,” Mountjoy said. “It is tempting to see if his girl is all that fetching.”

“At Pescadore’s, and she is,” Lewrie told him, providing him a brief description.

“Damned good establishment,” Mountjoy commented once he was done. “It might be fun to simply pop in and…?”

“Temptin’, aye,” Lewrie said, “but … no. We’d best not. If Hughes thinks we’re spyin’ on him, it’d just ruffle his feathers.”

“Well, he has some impressive feathers,” Mountjoy japed.

And an impressive woman, Lewrie thought, half-wishing that they could just happen to amble in so he could get a longer, closer look at Maddalena. Dammit, I may be jealous of him!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Over the next few days, Lewrie began to suspect that he had mis-judged Major Hughes. He and Mountjoy had Hughes up to Mountjoy’s lodgings so they could lay out the agents’ reports and sketches in greater privacy than they could in a borrowed office in the Convent, and they were amazed how Hughes grasped the possibilities so quickly, and raved over the prospects. They took him out to Harmony to tour the troop accommodations, and Hughes was a fount of good suggestions for improvements and tweaks to make the men—his men, now—more comfortable.

On his own, Major Hughes had arranged shore billets for the men of the 77th and their officers, had arranged provisions and cooking facilities for them, and had worked them into the rotation to use the parade ground for close-order drill, and at least a weekly use of the firing range, with ammunition to boot. In all, Hughes was a paragon when it came to working out the niggling details, and carried on in a brash, burly, charge-ahead manner. He also got Lieutenant Keane and Lieutenant Roe and their Marines ashore to participate. The loudest voice on the parade ground was his as he put them through the usual “square-bashing” and mock battle manouevres, with all three companies abreast to make rushes by company, with the others covering them, and even thought to rehearse mock retreats to the “beach” once the raids would be over, either opposed by Spanish forces, or getting off without a shot being fired at them. Major Hughes was most enthusiastic. Unfortunately, that enthusiasm did not extend to the 77th’s officers.

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.