concerned.'
The new gunner and the chaplain arrived on board within an hour of each other, and it was as if a whimsical Admiralty had sent two complete opposites. The gunner, William Higgins, came from Boston, in Lincolnshire, and was a tall, thin and stooped man with a dry sense of humour. He was going bald, but what was left of his hair was fair and greying, trimmed like a monk's tonsure.
The chaplain, Benjamin Brewster, brought to mind Friar Tuck: he was a jolly, round little man whom Ramage liked on sight, thankful that the first chaplain he had ever had on board a ship he commanded looked as though he would be an asset and likely to be popular with the men. The trouble with most chaplains, he knew, was that they were too closely associated with the wardroom, more interested in their food than the spiritual welfare of the ship's company.
Ramage was determined that right from the start Brewster should understand his views, and he took the man out to the balcony of his cabin and walked him up and down while questioning and telling him.
'As far as I am concerned,' Ramage said, 'the chaplain is responsible for the spiritual health and happiness of every man on board - that will be a ship's company of 625 men. We have a first-class surgeon who will make sure that their bodies are healthy. I am concerned that we have a first-class chaplain who will make sure they are healthy in spirit.'
'I understand you, sir,' Brewster said. 'But I hope you will leave me to do it in my own way.'
'How do you mean?' Ramage asked suspiciously. 'Well, sir, I left my last ship because of the captain's attitude,' Brewster said frankly. 'He was a man with very narrow and fixed religious views. In my opinion he did not need a chaplain: he interfered so much - even to providing notes for sermons - that he did the chaplain's work for him. Except, of course, the men never went to him for help or advice, as they would have done with the chaplain.'
'You mean that they did not come to you?'
'No, they didn't. They should have done, but they were intimidated by the captain giving them long sermons and conducting prayers - doing my job, in fact. That was why I left the ship and applied for a transfer to another of the King's ships.'
Ramage appreciated the man's frankness and replied in kind. 'Well, Brewster, I am not going to interfere with your work while you are chaplain of this ship and providing you carry out your duties satisfactorily - in fact I have only one rule for you to start with: no long sermons. Ten minutes is quite long enough, whether the men are sitting there in the freezing cold or under a Tropical sun.'
'I'm a ten-minute man myself, sir,' chuckled Brewster. 'My last captain reckoned on a minimum of half an hour. If he was delivering the sermon himself he could go on for an hour.'
Ramage shuddered at the thought. 'All right, Brewster, ten minutes of crisp talk, and rousing hymns where the men can sing their hearts out.'
That evening he gave instructions to Jessop to call at the shops next day and arrange for deliveries on board the Dido on the day following.
He found Sarah sitting in their room at The George busy embroidering a cot cover for him. She had chosen a design of griffins, the Ramage family crest, sewn in the correct colours of blue and gold.
'I am having to use yellow thread instead of gold,' she explained. 'I can't find any gold thread in Portsmouth - gold colour, anyway: actual gold thread would be heavy, and I'd never get it done before you sail.'
'Ah yes,' Ramage said, 'for once the Daily Report to the port admiral had some definite information today: I put down that we will be finished with the dockyard men - painters, caulkers and so on - in four days' time. We shall have taken on all the provisions and water by then, so it will be just a question of taking on powder and we are ready to sail.'
'And then you pack me off back to London?'
Ramage nodded. 'The admiral may want me on board before then: Jessop will be telling the shops to deliver the furniture and things the day after tomorrow, so I shan't have the excuse that the ship isn't ready for me.'
'Has the smell of new paint gone? You know how that makes you ill.'
'It's almost gone. All the ports are open so there's a good draught blowing through.'
He suddenly realized that Sarah was quietly crying.
'The time has gone so quickly,' she said, as he sat on the arm of her chair and held her to him. 'I had so looked forward to us being alone at Aldington, left in peace, and we haven't even been able to go down there.'
Suddenly Ramage felt a longing to be alone with Sarah at their home in Kent, walking, riding, and just lazing during the day, and making love at night, content just to be together after such a long time spent apart.
'At the end of this commission I'll go on half-pay for six months,' he said. 'You'll be tired of my company long before the time is up.'
'Can you be sure of being employed again after six months?'
Ramage thought of all the Gazette letters, and his recent unexpected promotion. 'Yes. I may have to wait a month or two, but their Lordships would find me another ship.'
'Are you making a promise?'
Ramage shrugged his shoulders. 'How can I? I may not even survive to the end of the commission. This one may last a couple of years - I don't even know where I am going.'
Sarah dabbed her eyes. 'No, it's unfair of me to ask you to promise: it's enough that you think about it. But it's so lonely at Aldington when you're at sea. I love the place, but I get lonely.'
'Ask your parents to stay. The marquis will enjoy the riding and your mother will enjoy chasing the gardener to plant more flowers!'
'The day after tomorrow, when the furniture is delivered, may I come to the ship again?'
'I was hoping you would, just to keep an eye on things and make sure that Silkin stows everything away properly.'
'Silkin will hate having the captain's wife interfering, but I want to see how the curtains and cushions look. It's one thing seeing the material in the shop before they are made, but it will be another seeing them in the ship. I hope I've made the right choices. I'm beginning to worry now. You have to live with them.'
CHAPTER FIVE
As Ramage left the ship for the port admiral's office the next morning, the first ships of the West Indies convoy were sailing into Spithead and the three junior lieutenants were just setting off with pressgangs in the boats. Ramage knew that it was a gamble: there were other ships in Portsmouth and at Spithead who needed more men, and they would be sending off pressgangs at the same time. He could picture the men in the homecoming West Indiamen watching with sinking hearts as the boats approached: it must be a cruel torture to be snatched for the King's service when so near home after a long voyage abroad.
But the fact remained that the King's ships had to be manned: there was a long and bitter war to be fought, and so far most of it had been fought at sea, so that seamen were needed. How many would he get from the convoy? It could be as many as a hundred or as few as twenty-five. One thing was fairly certain - most of them would be prime seamen. He was thankful that he now had a full complement of Marines - an unexpected bonus adding 123 men to the 225 or so brought over from the Calypso. At the moment, then, he was short of 277 men. He could expect to sail short of seventy-seven men, so he needed a couple of hundred, more if possible. A hundred men from the West Indies convoy and another hundred from the convoy due in from the Cape - was that too much to hope for? He decided it was. He would end up having to send pressgangs combing the countryside, apart from printing posters appealing to men to volunteer. He wondered whether posters were really worth the trouble. His name was well enough known to men who might volunteer, but they would be put off by the fact that he was no longer commanding a frigate. A frigate was more likely to get prize money - much more than a seventy-four. Frigates equalled prize money, seventy-fours did not: it was as simple as that.
When he arrived at the port admiral's house and was led into Vice-Admiral Rossiter's office, he at once noticed the heap of Daily Reports piled up on the desk. There was a smaller pile beside it, and he recognized his own writing.
Rossiter was friendly enough: his red face, greyish-silver hair and general manner still reminded Ramage of a landowner, and it was still a surprise to see him in uniform.
The admiral tapped the smaller pile of reports. 'You seem to be nearly ready to sail - except for men.'
'I'm hoping to get some prime seamen from the West India convoy which is just coming in.'
Rossiter sniffed. 'Fifty if you're lucky. The Dido isn't the only ship needing men.'
'No, sir, but she's the only one that concerns me,' Ramage said ruefully.
Rossiter gave a brisk laugh. 'You haven't received your orders yet from the Admiralty?'
'No sir: I haven't the faintest idea where I'm going.'
'Well, they ordered you to provision for six months, so you won't be hanging around the Channel, unless they want you for blockade duty off Brest.'
Ramage sighed. 'I hadn't thought of that.'
'It's not too bad in the summer,' Rossiter said. 'It's the winter that sorts out the men from the boys. You know Brest?'
'I was caught on land near there when the war began again - I was on my honeymoon.'
'Oh yes, I remember hearing something about it. Well, you'll be familiar with the Black Rocks. 'Close up to the Black Rocks in an easterly',' the admiral quoted, repeating the rule for the blockade, an easterly wind being the only one with which the French could sail out of port. 'You should get your orders in a day or so - I shall tell the Admiralty by telegraph today that you are nearly ready to sail. I expect your orders will come down with the night messenger.'
'I still need men, sir,' Ramage reminded him.
'I'll send over as many as I can. Don't be too hopeful, but I can skim a few men from some ships that have full complements. Have you all your officers yet?'
'A fifth lieutenant to come, that's all. The gunner and chaplain arrived yesterday.'
'How is her ladyship? Are you still at The George?'
'She's well, and yes, we are still there.'
'I still haven't met your wife,' Rossiter grumbled.
'We haven't seen much of each other since we were married,' Ramage said. 'I had just started some leave when I was given command of the Dido.'
