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!”