'If you want to live long enough to go up to Somerset House and take your examination for lieutenant, let me give you some advice,' Ramage said. 'When you're near a senior officer's ship, always keep an answering pendant bent on the halyard ready. And remember - in most fleets it matters less that a ship's gunnery is poor than that she answers signals quickly. Not with Lord Nelson, but with most senior officers.'
'Yes, sir,' Orsini said apologetically. 'I had realized that - too late - but we have the pendant bent on now.'
Ramage nodded. 'Good - that's the first lesson you've learned about joining a fleet. There'll be more. Just remember that when you're in company with a flagship, you're standing at the wrong end of someone's telescope . . .'
CHAPTER NINE
Ramage was in his cabin, his sword, best frock-coat and hat on the settee, when Aitken hailed through the skylight: 'Sir, signal from the flagship . . . two . . . one . . . three. Orsini is looking it up ... Yes, 'The captains of the fleet, or of the ships pointed out, are to come to the Admiral'. Shall I hoist out the cutter, sir?'
'Yes, and tell Jackson to assemble my boat's crew. And have 'em tidy themselves up: some of those captains of 74s dress up their boats' crews like puppets.'
The captain of the Harlequin frigate, for instance: he was a wealthy man and dressed his men as harlequins. Ramage thought of some of the more unusual names in the list of the Navy: the Alligator, a 28-gun frigate, the Beaver, Bittern and Badger, Bouncer, Boxer, Biter and Bruiser.
He imagined men in shirts with stripes down their backs.
'What ship?'
'The Badger, sir.'
He stood up and looked down at himself. Yes, shoes polished and the gold buckles fitted; silk stockings unmarked - he had remembered not to cross his feet: Silkin never managed to get all the polish off his boots or shoes, so the back of his stockings usually suffered. Breeches - not creased. He was just going to pick up his frock-coat when Silkin hurried in.
'Thank goodness I fitted those gold buckles, sir,' the man said. 'The silver ones would never have done for seeing the admiral.'
'Rubbish,' Ramage said curtly, 'admirals wouldn't notice if their captains arrived barefoot!'
'Oh sir!' Silkin exclaimed, as if he knew that Ramage was quite capable of arriving on board a flagship like that, to the eternal shame of his servant.
He held up the frock-coat and Ramage eased himself into it. The price of a good tailor was being uncomfortable: he wanted your frock-coat to fit like a glove, and breeches were so tight that sitting down suddenly was dangerous.
'You're not taking the presentation sword, sir?'
'No.'
'It's a fine sword, sir.'
'And it has 'Lloyd's' written all over it.'
Silkin shook his head, puzzled.
It will be interesting, Ramage thought sourly, to see which of those captains with presentation swords actually wear them to meet Lord Nelson. It was like wearing a label, he thought, saying 'I'm brave, sir.'
Ramage looked at his watch. In half an hour there would be so many boats with impatient captains milling about at the foot of the Victory'sentryport that a wise man either arrived very early or very late, thus avoiding the scramble. The Calypso was the nearest vessel now the Dreadnought had returned to her station. Arrive early, Ramage decided.
Just fifteen minutes later Jackson laid the Calypso's cutter below the Victory's entryport and, after a quick hitch at his sword belt, Ramage seized the sideropes being held out clear of the hull by the sideboys and began the long scramble up the battens to reach the port itself.
Conscious that the whole port was neatly painted, the scroll work picked out in gold leaf, Ramage entered, to be met by a large man wearing epaulets on both shoulders - a captain with more than three years' seniority.
The man held out his right hand. 'I'm Hardy - you must be Ramage. His Lordship hoped you'd take advantage of your nearness and get here first.'
'I've been chasing you for days,' Ramage said. 'I was hoping we'd get to St Helens before you sailed.'
Hardy grinned amiably. 'I'll let you into a secret: we only just beat you: we joined the fleet last night - you probably saw Admiral Collingwood reporting on board. Oh yes, by the way, today's His Lordship's birthday. He's forty-seven.'
Ramage nodded gratefully and followed Hardy's directions up to the great cabin. That entryport, Ramage thought, told him a good deal about Hardy: only one lieutenant, the master at arms and two seamen were waiting there; the sideropes were scrubbed white, even though the Victory had been at sea for days, and every bit of brasswork in sight was gleaming. Nor was Hardy a scrub-and-polish captain; by reputation he was a fighter.
Ramage was met at the door of the main cabin by a man dressed in a dark-green suit, with spectacles and a slight stoop. 'I'm Scott, His Lordship's chaplain. Allow me to announce you - the name?'
'Ramage.'
'Ah,' the man exclaimed, 'you just joined the fleet in the Calypso. One of our famous young frigate captains! His Lordship was telling me that he saw you in London. Well, please follow me.'
Nelson was sitting in a curiously shaped armchair close by the sternlights, reading a document. As soon as he heard Scott and looked up he gave an exclamation of pleasure, folded the document with one hand and slid it into a wide pocket sewn into the side of the chair like a large poacher's pocket. As he stood up, Ramage saw that the chair was very narrow and deep, obviously specially made for the admiral: dark-green leather, high back, and the curious pockets on each side.
'My dear Ramage, I'm glad you caught up with us: we just beat you from St Helens. You probably lost time taking on powder at Black Stakes - but you must have made good time across the Bay of Biscay: we joined the fleet only last night.'
'I must wish you a happy birthday, sir,' Ramage said.
Nelson gave a boyish grin, belying his forty-seven years. 'Thank you. I've now reached the age where I'll be held responsible for my actions! Tell me, you left the beautiful Lady Sarah well?'
'Very well, sir - though, to be honest, not delighted at my departure.'
'Oh dear,' Nelson gave a mock groan, 'she'll hold it against me. Lady Hamilton and my dear god-daughter Horatia are convinced I go to sea only to avoid them. Twenty-four days, dinner to dinner - that was all the time I was in England, after two years all but a few days on board this ship without setting foot on land.'
'You seem to keep remarkably fit, sir.'
Nelson shook his head and Ramage remembered too late that the admiral, although far from fit, was a man who enjoyed bad health. 'Ah, no, my health is ruined. After I've settled with the Combined Fleet I shall retire to Merton and cultivate my roses. Can you picture me as a country gentleman?'
'I'm afraid not, sir,' Ramage said candidly. 'It's hard to imagine you as anything but what you are.'
'I know you mean that as a compliment. Well, my dear Ramage, we are not so far from Cape St Vincent, and I remember very well your very brave action in taking that little cutter of yours across the bows of those Spanish ships of the line, delaying them long enough to allow another insubordinate captain called Nelson in the Captain to come to your help. Now you're a post-captain with a lot more experience of life, I trust you realize that Commodore Nelson and Lieutenant Ramage were lucky not to be court-martialled for that day's work?'
'Yes, sir - had we failed. But unless my memory betrays me, it resulted in the capture of four Spanish line-of-battle ships, two of which you took yourself.'
'Two line-of-battle ships and a baronetcy, and all thanks to you, Ramage, which is why I hope one day to render you a service in return.'
'You are not in my debt, sir,' Ramage said hastily.
'I'll be judge of that,' Nelson said briskly. 'Now,' and his face became sterner, and he gestured with his left hand to emphasize his words, 'Mr Scott here tells me he understands you speak passable Spanish.'
Ramage nodded, waiting for what was to come. Speak Spanish? What on earth had that to do with commanding a frigate in His Lordship's fleet?
'Just how 'passable'? Don't be modest and don't boast: it might lead to you getting your throat cut.'
'It's fluent,' Ramage admitted. 'A Castilian accent.'
'And if you were caught and questioned you could tell a convincing story, eh?'
Ramage nodded. 'A story it'd take them three or four weeks to check.'
Nelson looked up at Scott who, Ramage realized, had been watching him closely. 'What do you think?'
'I agree with you,' the chaplain said enigmatically.
'Very well, Ramage, I have a special job for you, but there's no time to tell you about it before the rest of my captains arrive on board, so wait behind when they go. I'm shifting the fleet further out tonight - fifty miles to the west - and I want to give you your orders before then. Ah, I hear the first of the rest of the captains. Scott, will you take up your duties by the door - and speak the names clearly, man: I don't know at least half these fellows!'
Ramage stood back as two captains were announced: Blackwood of the Euryalus, whom he had met briefly in London, and a burly, fleshy-faced man with fair hair and red cheeks whom Scott introduced as Captain George Duff, of the Mars.
Ramage heard Duff greet the admiral and realized he was a Scot.
After thanking him for birthday greetings, Nelson said: 'And how is the family ship? Hardy tells me you have most of the Duff clan on board. Are there any Duffs left behind in Banffshire?'
Duff gave a delighted laugh. 'Aye, sir, just a few!'
'How many are on board the Mars?'
'Well, m'son Norwich - he's just turned thirteen - joined the ship a few days ago and brought his young cousin Thomas with him. Thomas's elder brother Alexander is an acting lieutenant. Both are sons of my brother Lachlan.'
'Why 'acting'?' Nelson asked.
