Ramage and the Dido Read online

  It was a copy of this form that, carefully copied out by Luckhurst, was filled in daily by Aitken. Many of the questions seemed redundant if they were to be answered daily, but they began with how many days since the refit began. It then went on to list the number of petty officers, able and ordinary seamen, landmen and boys, and Marines, with the next column headed ‘Total number short of complement’.

  Then came the important questions: state of the rigging; stores – how far complete; water on board; number of artificers employed on board (they were divided into shipwrights, caulkers, joiners and painters), with the almost wistful question in the next column ‘By what time will they have finished?’ A wider column next to that asked: ‘Crew – how employed?’

  Ramage gave the book back to Aitken. ‘You’d better put Luckhurst to work with his pen and ruler, then give me the details to fill in. How many men are we short of complement?’

  ‘We brought 223 with us from the Calypso, and the complement of this ship is 625, so we are short 402.’

  ‘We’ll be lucky to find 300 men,’ Ramage said. ‘And that will be sending out pressgangs. I hate having to press men; how true it is that one volunteer is worth three pressed men.’

  ‘It’s not so bad if they are trained seamen,’ Aitken said. ‘Let’s hope we are lucky with those two convoys.’

  Chapter Three

  Sarah was excited next day at the prospect of visiting the Dido and meeting once again the men she had got to know on board the Calypso. She was wearing an olive-green dress that complemented her tawny hair and she had a matching cloak. Jessop had been instructed to pick them up at The George at nine o’clock with the carriage and drive them to the Dockyard.

  Before leaving the ship the previous day, Ramage had filled in the Daily Report and discussed with Aitken how the ship’s company and dockyard men were to be employed. The main task for the present was to rig the ship – setting up the standing rigging and reeving the running rigging. Then the yards could be swayed up and crossed, and the ship would look less naked.

  Ramage quickly saw that the most cheerful man on board was Southwick: the old master was as happy as a small boy playing mud pies at the prospect of rigging a ship of the line, a challenge he had not faced for many years, since before he first served with Ramage.

  But Ramage hated the confusion and mess associated with commissioning a ship: all over the deck there were coils of rope, with men busy splicing in eyes. Caulkers were busy with hot pitch filling in deck seams, and the harsh smell of the pitch caught the back of the throat.

  His cabin and the coach reeked of fresh paint and it gave him a headache. Painters were busy lining in round the bulwarks and painting the drums of the capstans. Aloft men were busy painting the masts, while others were tarring the parts of the rigging not being used by seamen and riggers.

  It seemed, Ramage thought as he settled in the carriage with Sarah, that the ship would never look seaworthy again: no yards across, no guns or carriages on board, no boats in the davits or stowed on the booms – indeed all the booms, too, were lying on the ground beside the ship. Still, there was one advantage in being alongside: the guns and carriages, yards and boats could all be painted more conveniently. There was nothing worse, for instance, than painting the yards when they were crossed: it was impossible for the men to avoid dripping paint, which spattered the deck planking. Thought of the deck planking depressed him – there was so much rope lying about that it was impossible to holystone the planking, and already it was looking grey, with uneven rivulets of pitch where the caulkers had been at work.

  ‘The ship’s a disgrace,’ he said to Sarah. ‘I’m sorry this will be your first sight of her.’

  Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry: I’ll make allowances. It is like spring-cleaning a house: one despairs of it ever looking presentable again.’

  ‘Just bear that in mind,’ Ramage said. ‘The decks look more like a chandler’s, and the seams are a mess with pitch.’

  ‘“The devil to pay, and no pitch hot” – what does that mean?’

  ‘“The devil” is the caulkers’ name for a particular seam that’s hard to caulk. It means some job to be done and no one to do it.’

  ‘Isn’t there some other phrase about caulkers – quarrelling, or something?’

  ‘Yes – at loggerheads. A loggerhead, or loggerheat, is an iron ball fixed on the end of the handle. The ball is heated in a fire and the hot ball is put into the pitch or a tar barrel to heat it. The point is that heating pitch or tar in a bucket over an open fire is dangerous, because it might burst into flames. But a loggerhead makes a nice weapon, and would just about stave in a man’s head. So when two men quarrel, they are said to “be at loggerheads”.’

  ‘Well, at last I know what it means. I’ve heard your father use the phrase.’

  Jessop swung the carriage into the Dockyard gates, stopped to answer the sentry’s challenge, and then drove on up to the Camber, where the Dido was lying alongside.

  Sarah was watching through the window. ‘Is that her? Why, she’s enormous! Nicholas, however are you going to handle such a big ship?’

  Ramage laughed at the question. ‘I wish I knew,’ he said ruefully. ‘You learn as you go along!’

  ‘Has Southwick any experience with a seventy-four?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, years ago. Don’t forget he’s been with me for years, so he has more experience of cutters, brigs and frigates than ships of the line.’

  ‘Well, you’ll all work it out somehow,’ Sarah said, with a cheerful confidence Ramage did not share. ‘Tell me, will I be in the way going round talking to the men I know?’

  ‘No, of course not. At least, don’t let them form a big crowd round you.’

  ‘First I must see what furniture you want for your cabins. And cushions, and glasses and so on.’

  ‘Ironic that instead of furnishing a home, your first experience as a married woman is furnishing a ship!’

  ‘Well, you inherited Aldington fully furnished, so all I could do there was move some of the furniture round and change the curtains and cushions. Not very satisfying for a new wife.’

  Jessop swung the carriage through the piles of yards and ranks of guns and stopped at the foot of the rough gangway which had been leaned against the entryport.

  Ramage glanced up and saw Aitken looking down at him. ‘We are expected,’ he said. ‘We’ll be piped aboard. Just stop for a moment, until the piping stops.’

  Sarah was delighted to find all the ship’s officers waiting for her when she went through the entryport, lined up according to their seniority. George Hill was the only new officer since she had met the Calypso’s officers. She kissed Southwick, much to the old master’s delight, and to Bowen she said: ‘I’m glad the captain has not given you any work recently.’ The surgeon laughed and said: ‘I have never seen him look so fit, m’lady.’

  Finally Ramage took her off to inspect his quarters. She walked through the coach and his cabin and said: ‘Compared with the Calypso you have so much more room, darling.’

  ‘More room, more pay, more responsibility… Thank goodness there are some compensations for commanding a ship of the line!’

  ‘Now, how many chairs will you want – for dining, I mean?’

  ‘Six,’ he said promptly. ‘That limits the number of people I can have to dinner. So I need a dining table and six chairs. A desk and chair. Four armchairs and a settee. Can you remember that so far? Let’s go into my clerk’s cabin – you can sit down there and write a list.’

  In Luckhurst’s cabin Ramage continued his list. ‘I need a cot for my bedplace. A chest of drawers and a couple of chairs, too. There’s not much room in there – I share the place with a 12-pounder. Now, I need curtains for the sternlights – nothing too dark, because I like a light cabin. Cushions to match, I suppose. I’ll leave the choice of patterns to you. Handbasin, water jug, soapdish…you know the sort of things. Wine cooler, too. Nothing too elaborate, or my guests will think the
y’re on board an East Indiaman!’

  Sarah, who had come home from India with her mother and father, travelling in an East Indiaman, laughed and said: ‘You’d need to be an admiral and lucky with prize money to live as well as the captain of an East Indiaman.’

  She finished writing the list and led the way back to the cabin.

  ‘You know, I am really surprised by how much room you have.’

  ‘Don’t forget that in here I have to share the space with two 12-pounders, one each side, and there’ll be a 12-pounder in the coach and another in the bedplace. Each has a barrel nine feet six inches long. Hang a cot in the bedplace and there’s not much space. Put a desk, a couple of chairs and a gun in the coach, and I don’t have much room. And with a long dining table, chairs, armchairs and a settee, wine cooler and a couple of guns, there won’t be much room to do a quadrille in here.’

  ‘Glasses,’ Sarah said suddenly. ‘You need plates, glasses and carafes. And cutlery. Darling, we’ve forgotten more things than we’ve written on the list. Napkins, table cloths, towels. And what about some small carpets – this black and white pattern is depressing.’

  ‘No carpets,’ Ramage said firmly. ‘In a seaway they slip all over the place. Make sure you include a set of carvers with the cutlery.’

  Sarah was adding to her list, writing standing up. ‘What about lamps? There are none here.’

  ‘Yes, I need lamps. Two for this cabin, and one each for the coach and bedplace. And plates and cups and so on.’

  ‘Yes, I noted them down with the glasses and cutlery. Sheets for the cot?’

  ‘Yes, four pairs. Silkin can’t get them all washed at the right time if we have much rainy weather.’

  ‘So you still have Silkin?’

  ‘Yes. He’s not the ideal captain’s steward, but he knows my ways now, which is half the battle with having a steward.’

  ‘And pillow cases?’

  ‘What? Oh yes, four of them.’

  Ramage looked carefully round the cabin, trying to think of other things he needed, but they seemed to have listed everything. In any case, there would still be time to get anything they had forgotten.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s show you the rest of the ship, and you can meet your old friends.’

  The tour soon turned into something of a triumphal procession. Sarah met Martin and Kenton on the quarterdeck and stopped for a chat with them, frankly admitting to Martin that she had forgotten to bring him any music for his flute. ‘Can you buy any in Portsmouth?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, there is one shop in the High Street m’lady, and I’ve got a good selection now.’

  Jackson and Stafford were squatting on the gangway, splicing rigging, and they put down their fids and stood up when Sarah came along. After the usual greetings, Sarah asked: ‘Any regrets at leaving the Calypso?’

  Both men nodded their heads. ‘You get used to a ship,’ Stafford said. ‘I ‘spect we’ll get used to the Dido in time, but there’s so much more to her.’ He pointed to the coil of rope he was splicing and grinned. ‘And so much more work to do!’

  ‘And what about you, Jackson?’

  ‘Well, the Calypso was small enough to be cosy. With a ship’s company three times as big, we’re going to lose some of that.’

  ‘Come now,’ Ramage said. ‘You’ve got to help train the new men and that way you’ll get to know them. You’ll soon like having some fresh faces around.’

  ‘More likely the place will be littered with clodhoppers, sir, with respect,’ Jackson said. ‘The ship will be a nursery, teaching them to knot and splice. They won’t know a long splice from a long drink of water.’

  ‘There are a couple of convoys due in, so we might get some prime seamen.’

  Jackson sighed. ‘That means we’ll hear dozens of stories of how they’ve been cheated out of their wages by the masters of their ships.’

  ‘Well, do your best with the new men,’ Ramage said. ‘I don’t want the new and the old to split into two camps: that always means trouble.’

  The four Frenchmen whom Sarah had got to know during their escape from Brest, when the war had broken out again while she and Nicholas were on their honeymoon in France, were on the fo’c’sle, splicing some standing rigging for the foremast. All four men were excited at seeing Sarah again.

  ‘Well, Gilbert,’ Sarah said, ‘how do you find life in the Royal Navy after being the Count of Rennes’ valet?’

  Gilbert, who spoke very good English, grinned. ‘It’s different, my lady, but I like it. I like the comradeship. And always something new.’

  She looked at Louis, who had started as a fisherman but, when his boat had been confiscated at the beginning of the Revolution, had become a gardener. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I prefer it to planting cabbages and fighting weeds, my lady, but I wish I was back fishing, my own master.’

  Sarah nodded understandingly. ‘Still, you are free of the Revolution.’

  Louis nodded his head vigorously. ‘The Royal Navy has no guillotine, and we eat regularly.’

  Albert, who with Auguste had sold vegetables in the market at Brest before escaping, laughed and said: ‘We eat regularly, yes, but always the same thing. I miss the fresh vegetables we used to sell.’

  Sarah looked at Auguste. ‘You feel the same?’

  The Frenchman nodded. ‘I am happy enough serving with his Lordship, but it would be nice to chew at a fresh carrot, or eat an apple. These I miss.’

  ‘Don’t we all,’ Ramage said sympathetically.

  Gilbert bowed slightly towards Sarah. ‘There is no family yet, milady?’

  Sarah blushed slightly and shook her head. ‘Give us a year or two. Gilbert. Then what shall it be, two boys and a girl?’

  ‘At least,’ the Frenchman said emphatically. He thought and then added: ‘Three sons and two daughters would be best. Then, when the girls get married, you have five sons.’

  Sarah laughed musically. ‘I’ll talk it over with his lordship!’

  It was curious, she thought, how when talking to the Frenchmen one referred to Nicholas as ‘his lordship’, because in the Navy Nicholas did not use his title, but the Frenchmen were always punctilious about it. Well, they had all worked for a titled Frenchman they loved and respected, and they had no sympathy with the Revolution, which had ruined their lives in France.

  Sarah and Nicholas continued their stroll through the ship, with Nicholas pointing out things that were different or bigger than in a frigate. They found Rossi making up a set of footropes for the maintopsail yard, and he hurriedly dropped his fid and gave Sarah a courtly bow.

  ‘Welcome to the Dido, milady,’ he said. ‘A much more fitting ship for you to visit than that little frigate!’

  ‘I liked the Calypso,’ Sarah said. ‘She had an air about her.’

  ‘Ah yes, but a ship of the line is more fitting for the captain: he deserves her! Why, next it will be a three-decker, and he will be hoisting his flag as a rear-admiral.’

  Sarah smiled at the Italian’s enthusiasm and reflected that Nicholas was lucky to have such men serving him. ‘All in good time, Rossi. It seems to me you have plenty to do getting this two-decker ready for sea.’

  ‘Boh,’ Rossi said with a shrug of his shoulders, ‘a few more days and we’ll be ready to sail.’

  As they continued their walk along the gangway, Ramage reflected how well Sarah seemed to fit in. Although looking beautiful in her olive-green dress and cloak, which would have been suitable for a stroll down Bond Street, she nevertheless adapted well on board the Dido, lifting her skirt to step across coils of rope and ducking under pieces of rigging strung up to the shrouds.

  They found Southwick under the halfdeck, inspecting the barrel of the wheel. Apart from the brief greeting at the entryport, they had not had a chance to talk. ‘How is the Marchesa?’ he asked. ‘Were you surprised to see her?’

  ‘We thought Napoleon’s men had murdered her in Paris, so you can imagine how surprised we were to f
ind that she had escaped to Naples and that by chance you brought her back in the Calypso. She has been staying with the captain’s parents, as you know, but at the moment she is with friends in the country. As you saw on the voyage from Naples, her dreadful experience in Paris has not affected her.’

  Southwick nodded. ‘She hardly recognised her nephew, he had grown up so much. He was a boy when she last saw him: now he is a young gentleman.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve noticed the difference, although I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet. He’ll soon be taking his examination for lieutenant?’

  ‘This month, I think,’ Southwick said, ‘although he’ll have to wait until his birthday before he can call himself “Lieutenant Orsini”. In fact, he’ll probably serve as a master’s mate for a few months, until there’s a vacancy. We need a fifth lieutenant now, and the admiral will probably send us one before Mr Orsini can take his examination. But I gather he has all his papers ready.’

  ‘Will he pass?’ Sarah asked.

  Southwick shrugged his shoulders. ‘He’ll come through with flying colours in everything but mathematics and navigation. There it’ll depend on what questions the board will ask. If he does well in seamanship – which I’m sure he will – the examining board may let him off lightly.’

  ‘Well, we must hope for the best. How are you keeping? You look very well.’

  ‘Middlin’ fair, m’lady. I get a touch of the screws in my back occasionally, but not bad enough to send me to bed.’

  ‘How do you like the change to the Dido?’

  ‘Delighted with it, m’lady. A long overdue change for the captain. Let’s hope he won’t have to wait so long before getting a three-decker.’

  ‘I think he was happy enough with the Calypso.’

  ‘Ah yes, you see he is a born frigate captain: plenty of dash.’ Southwick looked at Ramage and grinned. ‘I can say that now he’s said goodbye to the Calypso. Now he’s a married man with a ship o’ the line. By the time you’ve got a couple of sons, he’ll be ready for a three-decker.’