The Mullahs Quade had referred to were the Berber Muslims. Hawkwood didn’t know much about them either, though he did recall Larkspur’s skipper referring to a war the Americans had fought in the Mediterranean some seven or eight years before against North African pirates.

Following the Legion’s disbanding, Quade had switched his allegiance to the newly resurrected Marine Corps. The Corps had been looking for officers and with the Legion’s mission against the tribes fulfilled, Quade had seen an opportunity for advancement. Since then, by his own admission, the variety of enemy he’d fought against had exceeded that of his father and grandfather.

The major shook his head wearily. “If I’d had any sense, I’d have ignored the call. My ship was in Boston when I heard they were in need of serving officers. Men with experience of engaging with irregulars were especially in demand. I guessed that with my time in the Legion and fighting the Berbers, I had what they were looking for, so I offered my services.”

He gave a rueful smile. “Saw it as the lesser of two evils, my chance to get back to dry land. I’m no sailor, damn it. I always was prone to sea-sickness. Not so good for a Marine, as I’m sure you’ll agree.” He massaged his knee once more. “And look where it got me. That damned river was freezing; it’s a wonder I didn’t come down with pneumonia.”

After his wounds had been treated, Quade was transferred to the hospital at Buffalo, where he’d spent the bulk of his recuperation. With the Americans’ push to invade Canada along the Niagara having stalled, Major Quade had received orders summoning him back to Albany.

“The fact is; I can’t say that I’m looking forward to reporting in,” Quade said quietly, his voice dropping to a whisper, as though he’d suddenly become aware, following his previous indiscretions, that walls could have ears.

“I’m not sure Dearborn’s cut out for command any more than Van Rensselaer was. He’s as old as Methuselah, for a start!” He looked into the fire, staring into the flames for several seconds before pulling back and favouring Hawkwood with a wintry smile. “But you didn’t hear me say that. Forgive me; I’ve a tendency to ramble when I’ve had a few. I meant nothing by it. I dare say you’ll be making your own judgement when the time comes.”