“Enter,” Lewrie called back.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Lt. Keane said as he approached the day-cabin portion, where Lewrie was sprawled on his settee with Chalky in his lap.

“Good afternoon to you, Mister Keane,” Lewrie said, waving a hand at one of the chairs. “Take a pew, and let me express my congratulations, again, for a fine day’s work.”

“Ehm, thank you, sir,” Keane replied, seating himself primly, with his hat on one knee, his expression stony.

“A glass of something for you, sir?” Lewrie offered. “Wine, or might ye try my cool tea?”

“I believe I will assay your tea, sir,” Keane decided. “I have not tasted it before.”

“Pettus, a glass of tea for Mister Keane,” Lewrie called out to his steward. “Now, why the long face, Mister Keane? You look as if ye have something serious in your mind.”

“You have not begun your report to Admiralty, sir?” Keane hesitantly asked.

“Not yet, no,” Lewrie told him. “I thought I’d do that once we get back to Gibraltar, and combine our part with Major Hughes’s.”

“Upon that head, sir…” Keane said, then paused as if summoning up his courage. “Things did not go quite as well ashore as it may have appeared. The Army lot…”

“Landed too far left of the battery, aye,” Lewrie finished for him. “Even though all they had to do was row for the lanthorns on the parapet, and had to run t’get in the right place.”

“Well, there is that, sir,” Keane allowed, “but, once there, and in place alongside us, they just … stalled. There were no more than three or four sentries on watch in the battery, and the rest were asleep in the barracks. Hughes could have crept up and taken them at once, or he could have sent his companies in at a rush, and the battery would have been ours with hardly a shot fired, and the Spaniards in the barracks captured. Instead, he ordered his men to form line and load, the sentries heard him … I think the town could have … the sentries fired at him and his men, ran to wake the rest, and then the 77th began to volley by platoons, trading massive fire with only a few, no more than four or five, enemy soldiers, sir.”

“Damme, just blazin’ away at nothing?” Lewrie said, frowning. “How long did that go on?”

“Long enough for the Spanish to load and fire one of their guns and turn out of barracks, sir,” Keane said, looking angry, appalled by poor tactics. “We did not fire on the Spanish, so I doubt if they were even aware my party was there, it was still so dark. I took my Marines round the right side of the battery, fixed bayonets, and made a charge into them after serving them a volley. We shot a few, skewered a few more, and the rest of them threw up their hands, and some dropped their weapons or gun tools and ran off. At that point, it got quiet enough that I could shout, ‘take the bloody battery, charge’ and the soldiers finally moved.”

He spat “soldiers” like a curse.

“Good, quick thinking, Mister Keane,” Lewrie said, “as I will say in my report.”

“I fear that Major Hughes was none too pleased with my action, sir,” Keane said, allowing himself the faintest grin. “After we rounded up the Spanish prisoners, he made it plain that it was he who was in command ashore, and that I should have kept my men in line with his and … ‘what the Hell does a Marine know of infantry tactics?’ was how he put it, placing a great emphasis upon the difference between a Major and a mere Leftenant.”

Lewrie stroked his cat slowly, mulling that over for a minute or two whilst Keane got his tea and took a few sips.

“What Admiralty wishes to know is whether the attack was successful, Mister Keane,” Lewrie finally said. “Not the tactical, or personal disputes. It may be a good idea, though, once we’re back in port, to get Hughes, his company commanders, and you together for a re-hash, under the guise of what worked, and what we could do better. Just how big is a platoon, anyway, Mister Keane? How many are there?”

“Well, in our case, I’d say the same number as we have boats, sir,” Keane informed him. “For the 77th, that would be about eighteen or nineteen men plus non-commissioned and one officer. As many men as can be crammed into each of their larger boats.”

“So, their two Lieutenants, two Ensigns, and two senior Sergeants could command their six platoons, the Captains could oversee them, and Hughes would direct them all?” Lewrie asked.

“Lord, you speak heresy, sir!” Lt. Keane exclaimed, laughing and making a mock shiver. “The Army would never give such responsibility to Sergeants or Corporals, nor to boy Ensigns, either. That duty is for gentleman officers only, and experienced ones of proper rank. They drill, march, and fight in well-ordered battalions, regiments, and brigades. A light company can be sent out ahead of the line on their own, but only to skirmish for a while before returning to the left of the regimental line. They might form foraging parties in small lots, but that’s about it.”

“Damn!” Lewrie groused, and gave out a sigh. “My fault. When we planned the raid, I didn’t stress going round the battery by companies, or the companies acting on their own.”

“That could be raised during the review, sir,” Keane allowed, “but you may find it hard to impart. The Army simply doesn’t think that way. We might have been better off with an all-Marine force.”

“If wishes were horses, we’d all ride thouroughbreds,” Lewrie scoffed. “We’re stuck with what we have, and lucky t’ve gotten them. And, it ain’t as if they’re a bad lot. I gather that most of their officers have gotten the hang of what we’re doing, and we’ve taught their men new skills. Perhaps we can bring them round to a little more … flexibility.”

“Perhaps, sir,” Lt. Keane said, though he didn’t sound all that hopeful. “More flexibility in their thinking and reacting to the situation is wanting.”

“You mean in Major Hughes’s thinking,” Lewrie countered.

“Indeed, sir,” Keane solemnly agreed. “If only to limit casualties.”

Sapphire’s Marines had not suffered any hurts beyond some minor scrapes and bruises, though the 77th had had three wounded, none too seriously, or so Surgeon Mister Snelling had reported once he had returned from Harmony. If Major Hughes had thought to rush the battery at bayonet-point, quietly, the whole operation could have ended with no British casualties, Lewrie imagined.

Keane finished his cool tea, pronounced it a fine concoction, and took his leave, Lewrie remained on the settee, stroking Chalky, and frowning.

“We were lucky this time, cat, d’ye know that?” he muttered to his pet. “The next’un’ll take a lot more planning before we set it in motion, and I’m going to ruffle even more feathers before we do.”

Chalky looked up at him slit-eyed and beginning to purr.

There were Midshipmen Hillhouse and Britton to speak to as to why two experienced, well-salted young men had gone so far astray from the proper stretch of beach. There was a harder part awaiting him over how the detachment of the 77th could move more quickly if the situation warranted it. The hardest part of all, Lewrie suspected, was getting Major Hughes to explain his actions, and mend some of his ways.

“Hard-headed, blusterin’ bastard,” Lewrie muttered aloud.

“Mister Keane, sir?” Pettus asked as he retrieved Keane’s empty glass to rinse out.

“Not him, an Army officer,” Lewrie corrected him.

“Oh,” Pettus said. “But aren’t they all that way, sir?”

“God, let’s hope not!” Lewrie said with a laugh, while thinking that Major Hughes was a harder nut to crack than most. He recalled his boasts to Maddalena that first dinner at the seafood chop-house about the proper way to win the war, and how he’d go about it if only given the chance.

A very bloody thick nut, indeed, Lewrie thought.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Feeling ambitious, Captain Lewrie?” Mr. Thomas Mountjoy asked him once they had gone over the results of the raid on Puerto Banús.