by Dudley Pope
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 dust
y 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 z
est 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.’
