by Dudley Pope
'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 themif 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, Sara 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 recognize. 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 realized, 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 decribing the activities of the Navy.
'Yes,' Ramage told the admiral, 'she is staying at The George.' And, realizing 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 realized 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.'
Unti
l 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.
