Martinique - Full

 

Chapter One

Ramage folded the Morning Post and sat back comfortably. There was very little news in the paper and he passed it to Sarah, who was an avid newspaper reader and had already finished The Times and sniffed at the lack of anything of interest.

He had another five days’ leave: time enough to go down to Aldington and have a look at the Kent countryside, apart from reassuring himself that all was well with the house, although Sarah had been staying there most of the time he was away in the Mediterranean, only coming up to London in a hurry when she heard that he had arrived back in Portsmouth.

His parents’ home in Palace Street was a serviceable halfway house for both of them, apart from being conveniently near the Admiralty and even nearer the House of Lords, so that his father, the Earl of Blazey, could attend debates whenever he wished.

Ramage was vaguely aware of a horse pulling up outside the front door, although the sound of passing horses clopping their way along Palace Street was nothing out of the ordinary, but a few minutes later the old butler, Hanson, appeared at the door, his spectacles sliding down his nose as usual.

‘An Admiralty messenger, my lord: he has a letter for you and needs you to sign a receipt.’

Ramage nodded and went to the front door, signing the proffered receipt book and taking the letter. It felt strange, heavy and stiff, as though the paper with its heavy seal enclosed a sheet of parchment. He shrugged his shoulders as he walked back to the breakfast room to rejoin Sarah, who looked up inquiringly.

‘Probably fresh orders,’ he said and, noting the alarmed look on Sarah’s face, added: ‘I doubt if they’re urgent: their Lordships know I haven’t had much leave in the past few years.’

Sarah walked over to the desk and came back with a paper-knife. ‘Break the seal and put a stop to the suspense,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you have to go away again so soon.’

Ramage was reluctant to hurry: the sheer weight of the packet did not bode well. Routine letters were not written in parchment, and this packet crackled when he squeezed it. He took the paperknife and pried open the outer seal, and the folded paper opened by itself to reveal a parchment commission inside. He recognised it immediately – but a commission? What was happening to the Calypso frigate, which he had commanded for the past few years? She was even now waiting for him down at Portsmouth, under the temporary command of her first lieutenant, James Aitken.

But there was no mistaking the document: there was the Admiralty Office seal at the top left-hand corner, red wax with white paper on top; the blue stamp duty seal below it, with ‘11 shillings and 10 pence’ and a crown; and three signatures beneath the verbiage in the middle. Yes, it was a commission right enough, but sending him where, and in what ship?

He began reading, starting with the first few lines at the top. ‘By the Commission for Executing the Office of Lord High Admiral of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, etc.’

Then came the main section of the commission: ‘By virtue of the Power and Authority to us given, We do hereby appoint you Captain of his Majesty’s ship the Dido, willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board and take upon you the charge and command of Captain in her accordingly: strictly Charging and Commanding all the Officers and Company of the said ship to behave themselves jointly and severally in their respective employments… Hereof nor you nor any of you may fail as you will answer to the Contrary at your Peril…’

It ended with ‘By command of their Lordships’ and the signature of Evan Nepean, the Secretary to the Board, on the left, and the signatures of three Board members on the right.

The Dido? But wasn’t she a seventy-four? He had a fleeting picture in his mind of seeing her in Gibraltar some time ago. Command of a seventy-four!

‘Why are you grinning?’ Sarah asked quietly, obviously fearing the worst.

‘I think I’ve just been given command of a seventy-four,’ he said. ‘Let me find a copy of Steel’s List and check the name.’

His father’s copy of Steel’s Original and Correct List of the Royal Navy was on the desk, a thin grey-covered volume. He flipped through the pages until he came to the one headed ‘A complete List of the Royal Navy,’ where all the ships, from the 112-gun Salvador del Mundo to hired armed cutters and luggers, were named alphabetically. Yes, there was the Dido, at present in Portsmouth and built in 1798. She had been paid off, and obviously he would have to commission her.

He felt a sudden nostalgia for the Calypso. And what was going to happen to all the officers and men with whom he had sailed for so long? He would be lost without the old master, Southwick, who had served with him since he had been given his first command as a callow lieutenant in the Mediterranean so many years ago. And the Scot, Aitken, who had once refused a command to continue serving with him. And ‘Blower’ Martin, the junior lieutenant with his flute. And seamen like Jackson, Stafford and Rossi. Thinking of them took the shine off the new appointment.

‘This is a big promotion,’ Sarah said. ‘Your father will be pleased. Getting command of a second rate at your age.’

‘Third rate,’ Ramage corrected. ‘It’ll be a few more years before I get the chance of a second rate.’

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘I never did understand “rates”’ she admitted.

‘It’s just a matter of the number of guns a ship carries. A first rate has a hundred guns or more, a second rate between ninety-eight and ninety, a third rate from eighty to sixty-four… The Calypso is a fifth rate with thirty-two guns, and last of all comes a sixth rate, between thirty and twenty guns.’

Again Sarah looked puzzled. ‘I know this is a dreadful thing for the wife of a post-captain to admit, but the number of guns does not mean very much. How big is the ship? How many men does she carry?’

‘Well, seventy-fours vary slightly – the later ones are larger – but the Dido is probably about 170 feet long on the gun-deck, has a ship’s company of about 600, and is around 1,700 tons – more when she is provisioned for six months, of course. Now can you picture her better?’

‘Not really. Will I be allowed on board to visit you?’

‘Of course. You’ll have to come down to Portsmouth – but there’ll be plenty of time: I’ve got to commission the ship.’

At that moment Ramage’s father came into the room and wished them both a cheerful good morning. Almost immediately he saw the commission lying on the table, along with a copy of Steel’s List, and recognising both he looked questioningly at his son. ‘You’ve heard from the Admiralty?’

‘Yes, their Lordships have given me a new ship.’

‘Oh. You’ll be sorry to leave the Calypso – she’s become a second home!’

‘Yes – but they’ve given me a seventy-four.’

‘Ha, at last their Lordships have woken up to your worth! It was probably that last cruise in the Mediterranean that did it. After all, they gave you a whole Gazette to yourself for winkling out those Saracens. What ship?’

‘The Dido. I have to commission her at Portsmouth.’

‘Dido? She’s only seven or eight years old – I remember her being launched at Bursledon. Well, having to commission her is as good a way as any of getting to know your way round a two-decker. You’ll be at the mercy of your first lieutenant and master – d’you know who they’ll be?’

Ramage shook his head. ‘All I have at the moment is the commission. I found out she was at Portsmouth from Steel. I don’t know whether commissioning just means assembling the ship’s company and provisioning, or getting the masts in and rigging her.’

The earl smoothed down his white hair and held out his hand. ‘Well, whatever it is, congratulations. It won’t be long before they give you a second rate. Then you’ll get your flag!’

Ramage shook his hand and both men sat down again. The earl looked round at Sarah. ‘Well, my dear, so it is goodbye to frigates. What’s it feel like now, being married to a man who is going to command a ship of the line?’

‘He’ll miss all the men on board the Calypso,’ Sarah said. ‘It seems a pity that the captain has to start all over again when he changes ships.’

‘Yes’, it is a big change,’ the earl agreed. ‘Six hundred or so men instead of a couple of hundred. A really big ship to handle.’

Sarah held up her hands apologetically. ‘Nicholas has just explained to me what a “rate” is. But tell me, what is the difference between a frigate and a ship of the line, apart from its size and the number of men?’

‘Its job, mainly,’ the earl said. ‘A frigate is a scout – it acts as the admiral’s eyes when working with a fleet, or it does all those jobs that Nicholas has been doing for the past few years. But a ship of the line is just that – a ship which forms part of the line of battle when the fleet is in action. At Trafalgar, the frigates were supposed to stay out of the fight and repeat signals – the classic task for a frigate in battle, not getting involved in the shooting. Nicholas, of course, had to break the rules and get himself into the action, but normally the line of battle will be formed with ships of seventy-four guns or more. There are still a few sixty-fours around, but they are being replaced because they are not powerful enough to stand in the line of battle.’

‘So if Nicholas had been given the Dido in time he could have been in the line of battle at Trafalgar?’ Sarah asked.

‘Yes. Being him he made up for it with the Calypso, but if there is another Trafalgar and Nicholas is part of the fleet concerned, yes, he will be in the line of battle.’

‘It sounds a dangerous job.’

The earl laughed. ‘No, on the contrary. A captain stands much more chance of being killed in a frigate action than the captain of a ship of the line in a battle like Trafalgar. Just think of the numbers – on board a frigate he is one of a couple of hundred; in a ship of the line he is one of six hundred or so.’

‘Lord Nelson was killed,’ Sarah pointed out.

‘Yes,’ the earl agreed soberly, ‘but he would insist on wearing all his orders and decorations. He was an obvious target for French sharpshooters. Captain Hardy, who was walking the deck with him, was not scratched.’

‘But Nicholas has been wounded so many times: it doesn’t seem fair!’

Ramage said lightly: ‘The important thing is that I’ve survived!’

‘Does being given a ship of the line mean you won’t be away for such long periods?’ Sarah asked.

‘Probably. Ships of the line are usually attached to fleets, and fleets are not usually at sea for such long periods. Unless I get put on the blockade of Brest – blockade work usually means being at sea for a long time. Still, we don’t keep such a close blockade now…’

Hanson came into the room again and said apologetically: ‘There’s another messenger from the Admiralty, sir: it is a question of you signing the man’s receipt book.’

Impatiently Ramage got up from the table and went to the front door. He came back with the letter, picked up the paper-knife and slid it under the seal. ‘Their Lordships are keeping the clerks busy this morning,’ he commented. ‘They’d save on messengers if they wrote letters at the same time as they wrote commissions.’

‘Well, what does it say?’ demanded Sarah. ‘They may have changed their minds about giving you the Dido.’

Ramage unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read. Sarah was watching his face and was surprised to see a look of pleasure. The trouble was, she knew, that at the moment Nicholas was more absorbed in his new command than in the fact that his leave was likely to be cut short.

‘I’ve never heard of that before,’ Ramage commented, passing the letter to his father. He turned to Sarah and shook his head disbelievingly.

‘I’m not saying goodbye to the Calypsos after all. She is going to be paid off in Portsmouth before a thorough refit, and orders are being sent to Aitken to take all the officers and ship’s company to the Dido. Nepean says that their Lordships have decided that in recognition of their past services, the commission, warrant and petty officers are transferred to the Dido without change in rank. So Aitken is my first lieutenant and I have Southwick as master!’

‘Does that mean you still have Jackson and Stafford and Rossi, and the Frenchmen?’

‘All of them,’ Ramage said jubilantly. Then his face fell. ‘It means I still have that damned gunner, too. Well, this time I am going to the Board of Ordnance to have him replaced. We could get by when he was responsible for only thirty-two guns, but now we shall have seventy-four, plus eight or a dozen carronades, and that is too many for that fool!’

‘Eight or a dozen carronades? I don’t understand,’ Sarah said. ‘I thought you said you have seventy-four guns.’

‘I have,’ Ramage explained patiently, ‘but carronades are extra. For some reason I’ve never understood, carronades are not included in the total number of guns a ship carries. It doesn’t matter if she’s a frigate or a first rate. Carronades are a sort of bonus.’

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘It doesn’t make sense – after all, a gun is a gun – it can kill people, even if it is a carronade.’

‘I agree, darling, but even father can’t explain the quirks of the Admiralty. Anyway, the main thing is that I’ve got my Calypsos.’

‘Their Lordships are being very kind to you,’ the earl said, folding the letter. ‘I hope you realise that they’re granting you an extreme favour. I’ve never heard of a similar case.’

‘Nicholas deserves it,’ Sarah said defensively. ‘He’s been in so many actions, and he’s only just been given a seventy-four.’

‘Whoa,’ Ramage exclaimed with a grin, ‘I’m still very young to get a seventy-four. You talk as if I’m an old man. I think I’m still younger than Lord Nelson was when he was given his first third rate. Anyway, she was a sixty-four, the Agamemnon.’

‘I don’t care,’ Sarah said obstinately, ‘you’re only getting what you’ve long deserved. And it’s only right that you take the Calypsos with you.’

‘He still has to find another four hundred or so men,’ the earl pointed out. ‘I don’t know what the Dido’s complement is, but he only has 225 men in the Calypso and the Dido will be nearer 625. You’re going to have a lot of pressed men to lick into shape!’

‘Yes,’ Ramage agreed, ‘but it’s always easier when you have a nucleus of good men to start with.’

‘Remember Falstaff’s words,’ the earl reminded him. ‘Although they were pressed for the Army, remember that he had “revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fall’n; the cankers of a calm world and a long peace”. Remember, too, that he said that “A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and press’d the dead bodies…”’

Ramage laughed because the quotation, from Henry IV, was one of his favourites. ‘Still, when they hear how much my fellows have made from prize money, I expect I’ll get a few volunteers.’

The earl nodded in agreement. ‘Mind you, you probably won’t get as much with a seventy-four as you did with a frigate. By the way, that master of yours – Southwick, isn’t it? – should be a wealthy man by now. He’s been with you ever since you got your first command, the Kathleen cutter.’

‘Yes, he could retire and be comfortably off. I mentioned it to him once and got a very short answer – he’s happy at sea with me. Interesting to guess what he might have done if he had not been transferred to the Dido.’

‘Retired, I expect. A man like him doesn’t want to start having to learn new tricks with a fresh captain – not after so many years with you. Anyway, he must be well into his sixties by now.’

‘About sixty-five, but he runs around like a young boy.’

‘How’s young Paolo, by the way?’

‘You wouldn’t recognise him, he’s grown so much. More like a junior lieutenant than a young midshipman. He was very excited to have his aunt on board when we came back from Naples.’

‘From what Gianna said, most of the ship’s company were very excited at seeing her. The Marchesa was certainly popular!’

‘You and Mother don’t mind her staying here?’

‘Of course not. Anyway, she prefers it when we are down at St Kew – I think the Cornish landscape reminds her of Volterra – Tuscany, anyway. She has plenty of friends now – and I hope she’s enjoying her visit to Shropshire at the moment.’

Sarah looked at the letter and the commission lying on the table. The important thing neither mentioned was dates. ‘When do you have to go to Portsmouth?’ she asked Ramage.

He felt himself torn two ways: he wanted to be with her, and he wanted to be down at Portsmouth, looking over his new command, like a child with a new toy. The Admiralty letter said nothing about when he should be at Portsmouth, nor did the commission, but it was always understood that ‘forthwith’ was implied.

‘I should go down tomorrow. But you’ll come with me? There’s a comfortable inn near the Dockyard – and you know all the Calypsos. You’ll find it interesting to see a ship of the line being commissioned.’

‘She won’t if all you have to do is provision and water her!’ the earl said unexpectedly. ‘Just sitting in her room doing embroidery…’

‘I think I’ll start packing,’ Sarah said. ‘Just in case you take a long time getting the Dido ready. There must be some sort of social life in Portsmouth.’

‘Oh yes, the whole place positively quivers,’ the earl said ironically. ‘What with tea with the Port Admiral’s wife, and a call on the mayor, and giving Aitken and Southwick tea as the gracious wife of the captain, you won’t have a minute to call your own.’

‘You make it sound very exciting. Especially tea with the mayor.’

‘Well, there’s usually a ball or two to liven things up. Make Nicholas take you – I know what a devil he is for dodging them if he can. By the way, take the carriage – the coachman’s new and a fool, but Nicholas knows the Portsmouth road.’

 

The carriage left Palace Street two days later, starting off just as dawn was breaking. Ramage and Sarah crossed the Thames at Lambeth Bridge and found little other traffic: there were burly draymen delivering barrels to ale houses, and bakers with delicious-smelling newly baked loaves, otherwise the streets were almost deserted. After some eight miles they reached the edge of Richmond Park, and for the next two miles skirted it on the right before reaching Kingston. They had covered eighteen miles and the sun was climbing higher by the time they passed Lord Clive’s estate at Claremont and drove on to Guildford, thirty miles from Palace Street. It was a fine sunny day: Ramage could see few clouds through the carriage window.

‘We’re going to have a dusty ride,’ he commented to Sarah.

‘It’s always either dusty or muddy,’ she commented. ‘One day it will be perfect – a day we’re not travelling!’

They reached Guildford just before ten o’clock, and Ramage saw a postchaise coming up to London pull in to change horses. Jessop, the coachman, announced that Guildford was as far as he knew, and Ramage directed him on to Godalming, which they reached in twenty minutes and went on to pass the Devil’s Punch Bowl. Once through the hills they could make better time, and it was just two o’clock when they reached Petersfield and Ramage decided they would stop for a meal and a wash: dust seemed to get through every crack and crevice, and there was no question of driving with the window open. The inside of the carriage smelled musty and, with the dust, made them sneeze occasionally.

While they were waiting for the meal to be served at The Bell, and Jessop was attending to the horses, Sarah said: ‘Your father has a comfortable carriage: it is one of the best sprung I have ever travelled in.’

‘He likes his comfort,’ Ramage said. ‘It’s a long ride when they go down to Cornwall, and for the last third of the way to St Kew the road is awful. This Portsmouth road is bad enough. To think the telegraph takes only fifteen minutes or so.’

‘The telegraph?’ Sarah asked. ‘Remind me how it works.’

‘Well, it’s like people standing on hills and waving to each other. The Admiralty has built signal towers all the way from the roof of the Admiralty building to Portsmouth – and it is being extended to Plymouth. There are men with telescopes in all the towers, and as soon as a message starts being signalled from one tower it is passed on to the next.’

‘What are the signals – flags?’

‘No, on each tower is a semaphore – like a man’s arms. Different positions mean different letters of the alphabet. So unless it is foggy or dark, a message can be passed just as quickly as the signalman can handle it.’

‘But surely there are a lot of routine messages – more than the telegraph can send.’

‘Goodness me, yes. But every evening, at set times, messengers leave the Admiralty on horseback, bound for the various ports – Plymouth, Portsmouth, Sheerness, Harwich, Yarmouth, and so on. It is a regular service, so that the various port admirals know when to expect their mail. And, of course, the messengers bring back the routine correspondence to the Admiralty.’

Sarah seemed satisfied with the answer, but then she asked: ‘Tell me about Aitken. Does his transfer to the Dido mean a promotion?’

‘Yes, indeed. He will still be first lieutenant, so he’s been promoted from the first lieutenant of a frigate to a ship of the line. The same for the other lieutenants. And I shall have another one, too, a fifth lieutenant. And – if I want that many – up to twenty-four midshipmen.’

‘Do you?’

‘No, I’ll settle for ten or a dozen, but Orsini will be made a master’s mate, so that in effect he’ll be the senior one. Gianna’s nephew has had a good run for his money, being the only midshipman in the Calypso.’

‘You mean you could have had more?’

‘Oh yes, several more. But one was enough. Midshipmen get into mischief.’

Knowing Ramage’s view on parsons, she laughed when she said: ‘Do you have to have a chaplain now?’

‘Yes,’ Ramage said gloomily. ‘I got away with it in the Calypso because a frigate doesn’t have to carry one unless he applies, and I took care none ever did. Still, with a ship’s company of some six hundred men, perhaps a chaplain will be useful.’

 

After a comfortable lunch, and a report from Jessop that fresh horses would not be available that day, Ramage, still feeling dazed from the drumming of the carriage wheels, decided they would stay the night at The Bell.

‘We’re in no great hurry,’ he told Sarah. ‘After so many months at sea, it’s a pleasant change to be surrounded by trees and green fields, and to hear the birds singing.’

‘It’s even better at Aldington,’ Sarah said wistfully. ‘I was hoping we would be able to go there for a few days. You’ve seen little enough of your inheritance. Just a few days since your uncle died and the will was read.’

‘Well, you’ve been there, so that’s some consolation.’

‘Are we in Hampshire now, or still in Surrey? Anyway, it doesn’t compare with Kent,’ Sarah said firmly.

‘Tell me, how do you get on with Raven?’

‘Splendidly. He must be the perfect manservant. More than that, of course, since he acts as gamekeeper, coachman, gardener and general handyman, as well as waiting at the table. I’m in good hands.’

Ramage nodded. ‘I imagined so. He looks a bit frightening with that scar across his face, but he must have learned a lot from those smugglers.’

‘There’s still plenty of smuggling going on across Romney Marsh – Raven says the packhorses are out a couple of times a week.’

‘Good for them,’ Ramage said. ‘I’ve always been on the side of the smugglers – I like to think of the ladies getting their French lace and the squire his brandy!’

‘It ill becomes the new captain of a ship of the line to say something like that,’ Sarah said with mock severity.

‘Most post-captains are sympathetic towards the smugglers: don’t forget, the Customs and Excise are chasing us the moment our ships arrive in a British port. Take on a butt of Madeira if you happen to call at that island and the devils will be charging you duty if you want to land it and take it home. A yard of lace for the lady? Well now, sir, there’s duty to pay on that. You’ve no idea what a close watch the Revenue men keep on the Navy. I think they regard us as only slightly less villainous than the smugglers.’

‘All this talk of villainy is making me feel restless,’ Sarah said. ‘Let me put on a coat and hat and we’ll take a walk.’

 

They made an early start next morning, after their horses were fully rested, and out on the Portsmouth road Ramage began reading off the distances from London as they passed milestones. After Horndean they drove for a mile through Bere Forest before emerging to find the Portsdown Hills in front of them. They were soon over the hills and running down to Cosham, skirting Portsmouth Harbour as they drove through Hilsea and Kingston, ships’ masts and spars lining the horizon, before turning right at the Common and heading for the town centre.

Sarah immediately noticed all the masts of the ships anchored close in and in the Dockyard itself. The next thing that caught her attention was the way the town bustled – men who were obviously seamen were rolling casks, pushing carts laden with coils of rope, and dragging wooden sledges on which were piled a variety of things Sarah did not recognise. And there were the women, standing on corners, walking along the streets with an emphatic swing of the hips, or arm in arm with sailors presumably on leave. Whores, she suddenly realised, cheeks rouged and their clothes brightly coloured. And all, Sarah noted, looking happy. Was it a professional attitude or did they enjoy their work?

‘Where are we going to stay?’

‘The George,’ Ramage said. ‘There are only three inns of any consequence – the Blue Posts, used by midshipmen and the like, the Star and Garter, where lieutenants stay, and The George, used by post-captains and flag officers.’

‘And ship widows.’

‘Ship widows?’ Ramage asked, puzzled. ‘What are they?’

‘The poor wives left alone while their husbands spend all their time on board their new ships. Like children with fresh toys.’

Ramage made a face. ‘Yes, I’m afraid you’ll be a ship widow some of the time, but you’ll be able to visit her.’

‘As soon as possible: apart from seeing the ship, I’m looking forward to meeting all my old friends, especially Southwick, Jackson and Stafford, and Rossi, of course. And my Frenchmen. I haven’t seen them since we escaped from Brest.’

‘That’s a long time ago: why, you’re an old married woman now!’

‘Our adventurous honeymoon aged me! How many young women find themselves caught in the enemy’s country when war is declared?’

‘Well, it was an exciting time. Adds zest to life.’

Sarah smiled tolerantly. ‘Zest? Well, counting the circumstances under which I met you along with the Brest escapade, I think I have had enough zest to last me the rest of my life. I’m quite happy to end my days as a staid old married woman!’

By now the carriage had drawn up outside The George and the coach boys – in fact two old men, probably Navy pensioners – were letting down the steps of the carriage with a bang while the innkeeper, probably warned that a carriage had arrived with a crest painted on each door, was standing ready to greet his guests.

Fifteen minutes later, waiting in their room as porters carried in their two trunks, Ramage said: ‘Now I’m here in Portsmouth, I must report at once to the port admiral. From now on I am not a free man: I am at the beck and call of admirals, and admirals are notorious for having whims.’

‘Worse than wives?’

‘I haven’t much experience of wives, but I should guess much worse.’

 

Chapter Two

Vice-Admiral Edward Rossiter, the port admiral at Portsmouth, was a stocky, red-faced man with silver-grey hair who looked more like a prosperous landowner than a sailor, although Ramage knew he had a reputation for being a fine seaman who could handle a ship with the ease of a jockey managing a pliant horse.

He shook hands with Ramage and said: ‘You’re a lucky man to get the Dido: she handles well and we have just given her a good refit. But no one is going to thank you for bringing us the Calypso: she’s just about worn out.’

Ramage shrugged his shoulders diffidently. ‘I’m afraid she has seen some hard service in the last few years.’

‘Have you commanded her long?’

‘Several years, sir: since I captured her from the French in the West Indies.’

‘That explains it. The master shipwright tells me she has a large number of repaired shotholes, but the repairs were not all made at the same time.’

‘By no means, sir. The last lot were done in the Mediterranean, and the West Indies before that. The ship hasn’t been in a dockyard since she was fitted-out after we captured her, and that fitting-out was done at English Harbour, Antigua, which was – and probably still is – a nest of thieves, where it is hard to refit a bumboat.’

Rossiter laughed and said: ‘Yes, I know about English Harbour. Well, things are a little better here. There’s still some work to be done on the Dido, but your first lieutenant is busy. He has a copy of the Port Orders, and I’ve no complaints so far: his daily reports come in on time. He tells me he was with you in the Calypso. He’s new to seventy-fours.’

Ramage nodded. ‘As you probably know, sir, the Admiralty turned over all the Calypsos to the Dido, so I have a good nucleus to start with: almost all the men have been with me since long before I commanded the Calypso.’

‘You’re a lucky fellow. But you have to find another three or four hundred men…’

‘Yes,’ said Ramage soberly, ‘and train them.’

‘Did you bring your wife down with you?’ the admiral asked, fully aware that few of his captains were titled and married to the daughter of a marquis and, in Ramage’s case, the son of an earl who had been a famous admiral. Captain Lord Ramage, the admiral guessed, was the source of much influence at the Admiralty. In that, Rossiter was in fact wrong: Ramage’s only influence at the Admiralty arose as a result of many despatches describing his operations and which had been thought worthy of printing in the London Gazette, and there were more and more stories about his exploits in the Naval Chronicle, an aptly titled magazine describing the activities of the Navy.

‘Yes,’ Ramage told the admiral, ‘she is staying at The George.’ And, realising this was a good opportunity of making the point to the admiral, he added: ‘I had been in the Mediterranean for some time, and the Admiralty had just given me three weeks’ leave. The orders for the Dido came after only five days.’

‘Well, it’s going to take you two or three weeks to get the Dido ready for sea, so you’ll be able to see something of her.’

‘This is the first time I’ve fitted-out a seventy-four,’ Ramage said. ‘Has she got her masts in?’

The admiral shuffled through some papers on his desk. ‘Ah, yes, here’s yesterday’s report. Masts are in, and your first lieutenant is setting up the standing rigging. Yards are on the dock waiting, along with the guns. Oh yes, she’s lying alongside the Camber, so you will not need to use a boat, and your wife will be able to visit you.’

‘I have permission to sleep on shore, sir?’ Ramage asked, knowing it was needed under the regulations.

‘Yes, while the ship is alongside. After that, I’m afraid not. My apologies to her ladyship, but I’m bound by the rules of the port.’

‘She will understand. Well. I’d better get on board and read myself in,’ Ramage said. ‘I hope some convoys are due in – I’ll need to send out some pressgangs.’

‘You’re lucky: a West Indian convoy is due any day, and another from the Cape of Good Hope. You should find some prime seamen.’ The admiral smiled. ‘You are also lucky that some of the ships in port are well supplied with men; only the Dido is so much below her complement, so you’ll have first choice.’

 

The Camber was only a few hundred yards from the port admiral’s house and Ramage decided to walk over, approaching the Dido slowly. The Dockyard was busy, with men trotting along wheeling handcarts, or being marched from one place to another. Another group of men pulled a cart on which were piled rolled-up sails; yet another had several coils of rope. Ramage soon tired of saluting, but he realised there were few post-captains walking around the place in uniform with sword.

And there was the Dido. She seemed enormous, black hulled with a double yellow strake above and below the gundeck. Her masts towered up, the impression of height exaggerated because the yards were not crossed, but lying on the ground, waiting to be swayed up. And rows of guns nestling on their carriages – the great 32-pounders, twenty-eight of them, and thirty 24-pounders, sixteen 12-pounders and, like crouching bulldogs, eight 12-pounder carronades, the squatness exaggerated by the length of the barrels of the other guns.

Ramage climbed on board to be met by a startled Kenton, who had not seen him walking across the Dockyard towards the ship. He gave Ramage a hasty salute while sending off Orsini to find the first lieutenant.

‘We didn’t know when to expect you, sir,’ he said apologetically. ‘I did not see your carriage.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ramage said reassuringly, ‘I walked over from the port admiral’s house. It gave me a chance to look at the ship.’

Kenton grinned happily. ‘A bit different from the Calypso, sir! Takes some getting used to.’

Ramage looked affectionately at the small, red-haired and heavily freckled youth. ‘Well, Kenton, what does it feel like to be second lieutenant of a ship of the line?’

‘Awesome, sir. And I have to thank you. Shifting all of us from the Calypso to here was a big surprise, and we owe the promotion to you; their Lordships would never have done it but for you.’

Ramage waved a hand diffidently. ‘Well, it’s up to you now.’

At that moment both Aitken and Southwick arrived simultaneously at the entryport and there was a flurry of salutes and greetings. As soon as they were over, Ramage said: ‘Mr Aitken, muster the ship’s company aft on the quarterdeck: I had better read myself in.’

Until he read his commission aloud to the officers and ship’s company, he was not officially in command of the ship, and at the moment the parchment was sitting snugly in his pocket.

Within a minute or two the shrill calls of the bosun’s mates, followed by the bellowed orders to muster aft, were echoing through the ship, and Southwick was standing beside him, saying in a low voice: ‘Bit o’ a surprise, sir, shifting us all from the Calypso!’

‘Not unwelcome, I trust?’

The old master grinned, taking off his hat and running his hand through his flowing white hair. ‘No, sir. I like to think we all deserved a seventy-four after all those years in a frigate. What does it feel like to command a ship o’ the line?’

‘I’ve only been on board about five minutes, so my feelings are a bit mixed,’ Ramage said lightly. ‘In theory I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Our biggest trouble is going to be men,’ Southwick said. ‘At the moment we have less than half our complement.’

‘The port admiral says two convoys are due in, one from the West Indies and the other from the Cape. With luck we should get at least a hundred men from each one.’

‘I hope so,’ Southwick said gloomily. ‘I don’t want to fill up the ship with rubbish from the prisons.’

‘You can’t avoid having some convicts when fitting-out a ship as big as this.’

‘I know, sir, but don’t expect me to like it.’

Aitken came to report: ‘The men are mustered aft, sir. Will you be making a speech?’

‘A speech? Good heavens, the men know me well enough by now.’

‘I still think they’d appreciate a few words, sir. It’s an even bigger change for them than it is for us, and they’ve been working hard since they came on board.’

‘Oh, very well,’ Ramage said, hard put not to sound surly, ‘but I’ve no idea what to say.’

He was startled when, as he strode across the quarterdeck past the assembled men, they started cheering him. He spotted Jackson, Stafford and Rossi grinning among the throng, and beside them the four Frenchmen. In front of each division stood the officers. There was the willowy, debonair third lieutenant George Hill, who spoke French fluently because his French mother had been unable to learn English. And there, stiff as a ramrod, was the fourth lieutenant, William Martin, popularly known as ‘Blower’ because of his skill with the flute. The freckle-faced Peter Kenton was standing to attention in front of his division and Ramage guessed Orsini was now on watch at the entryport. The Marines were drawn up in two files athwartships, with Sergeant Ferris and Lieutenant Rennick in front. Rennick, Ramage noted, should be promoted to Captain now.

The cheering had stopped and he took the commission from his pocket and unfolded it. He coughed to clear his throat and then began reading in a strong voice, hurrying over the preliminaries until he reached the important part: ‘…We do hereby appoint you captain of His Majesty’s Ship the Dido willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board and take upon you the charge and command of Captain in her accordingly.’ He read out the warning to the officers and men to behave themselves, answering to the contrary ‘at your peril’.

Finally he came to the end and rolled up the parchment and looked round at the men. Yes, Aitken was right, they expected him to say a few words.

‘Well, goodbye Calypsos, hello Didos,’ he said. ‘I see that you have a larger ship than when I last saw you. The port admiral has just told me the master shipwright reports that the Calypso is worn out. I only hope you men aren’t worn out because–’ he gestured aloft at the bare masts, ‘–there is a lot of work to be done up there.

‘But more important, we shall have about three hundred and fifty new men joining the ship within the next week or two. Some will be trained seamen: some will be fresh off the farm; some will be fresh out of jail. But – as I remember telling you several years ago – none of them has a past the moment his name is written in the muster book. From then on he starts a new life as a Dido, and it will be up to him to make his own reputation. If he proves a bad man, he can expect no mercy from me. If he is a good man, then he will be treated accordingly. I mean that it is of no importance whether a man is an able seaman or fresh from the plough, he makes a fresh start.

‘All this will mean extra work for you men, but also extra responsibility. I want you to help train the men that don’t know their larboard hand from the hanging magazine. And I want you to make sure that trained seamen do things my way.’

He looked round and concluded: ‘The Calypso was a happy ship and I hope the Dido will be too. But it all depends on the officers and ship’s company. So, men, it all depends on you.’

Ramage stopped talking, certain he had made a lame and ineffectual speech, which would have done little more than embarrass the men, so he was startled to hear them cheering again, this time even louder.

As the men were dismissed by their officers he walked under the halfdeck to look at his cabins for the first time. There the cabin, coach and bedplace seemed larger than usual because they were bare of furniture and the four 12-pounders were down on the dock, not lashed in their usual position, two in the cabin and one each in the coach and bedplace. The canvas-covered deck was painted in a chessboard pattern of black and white, and the sternlights, six big windows with stoneground glass, meant that the cabin had plenty of light. But, Ramage admitted, without a dining table, chairs, settee, armchairs, wine cooler and a desk, both cabin and coach were as inviting as empty warehouses.

He thought for a few minutes. The furniture that he had in the Calypso was very worn: the settee sagged so much that it looked more like a nest in the middle, and the armchair was even worse. His desk and the dining room table had been inherited from the French captain, who obviously had not been fussy about scratching the tops of both. No, all that furniture could stay in the Calypso, a present to her next captain (assuming the dockyard people did not steal it), and he would start fresh with the Dido, buying new furniture. It would give Sarah something to do – she could also choose material for curtains and cushions: she had excellent taste, and Jessop could take her round in the carriage to visit Portsmouth’s selection of furniture shops.

And a cot. He suddenly remembered the bedplace was bare, too, and all that was fitted towards the captain’s getting a good night’s sleep were two eyebolts in the deckhead from which to sling the cot.

The tiny cabin of the captain’s clerk was built on to the starboard forward corner of the bedplace, and he walked outside to inspect it. There was no disguising the fact that it was little more than a hutch, but luckily the man wanted little more than room for a small table and a chair and enough room to swing a hammock. Ramage was sure that Luckhurst, his clerk, was more than content: the fact that a hammock was slung showed that the man had already moved in. Well, from now on he was going to be busy – there would be plenty of reports, surveys and returns ‘according to the prescribed form’ and applications to be made in the next few days before the Dido sailed.

He went back into the cabin and opened the door leading to the balcony stretching across the stern, outside the sternlights. Extending the width of the ship, it was going to be a joy, enabling him to walk back and forth in the fresh air with privacy. And he only had to look over the side and he would see the Dido’s wake curling astern beneath him. Yes, a seventy-four was a great improvement on a frigate.

Except… There was one important exception. A seventy-four was a damned big ship. From memory, a ship as big as the Dido