Ramage and the Dido (5 page)

‘Yes, but leave all my stuff in the
Calypso.
I’m going to buy new for this ship.’

Aitken grinned and said: ‘A good idea, sir: that settee was getting a bit uncomfortable!’

‘I’ll warn her ladyship to buy something special for you,’ Ramage said ironically.

‘You’re too kind, sir,’ Aitken said with a straight face. ‘By the way, sir, I’ve brought you a copy of the
Port Signals and General Orders.
They’re not as bad as some I’ve seen, but I seem to have spent most of my time filling in forms and making reports.’

‘Now you hope I’m going to do it.’

Aitken grinned. ‘I’ve been using your clerk, Luckhurst, so he knows his way through the
Orders.
May I ask how her ladyship is keeping?’

‘She’s looking forward to seeing you all. You will be able to escort her through the ship: she is staying at The George with me, and one of her first jobs will be to furnish this cabin and the coach.’

‘And the Marchesa, sir?’

‘She’s well. At the moment she is away staying with some friends in the country. I think she’ll be sad to hear we’ve left the
Calypso.
She had grown fond of the ship during the voyage back from Naples.’

‘The ship’s company are always asking after her and her ladyship. They reckon the ladies bring them luck.’

‘I hope so,’ Ramage said soberly. ‘Now, what reports have we got to send in today?’

Aitken gave him a grey book. ‘I’ve already done the second order, where it says the captain is to deliver a statement of defects and deficiencies of sails, rigging and stores.’

‘That was quite a big job.’

‘It was,’ Aitken said ruefully. ‘It took Southwick and me all day. Still, having the yards down and most of the rigging stripped off made it easier.’

Ramage opened the book and started reading the ‘Orders and Instructions’. Aitken had already dealt with the second, and the third needed no action: admirals, captains or commanders were to attend courts martial in frock uniforms with white breeches, and officers at all times when on shore were to wear their ‘established uniform’ with swords. Subsequent instructions said no work was to be done on Sundays except loading provisions, stores or water, and applications for leave of absence from an officer of a ship refitting had to be sanctioned by the port admiral. Well, he already had permission to sleep on shore at The George.

A return had to be made daily of all men impressed the previous day but, the orders warned, men were not to be impressed from outward-bound vessels – a pity but understandable: it would be unfair to weaken a ship at the beginning of a long voyage.

And so the instructions went on, covering arriving at Spithead with sick seamen, dealing with newly raised men, and ‘No beat of drum is to be admitted…except those established, viz. the Reveille, Troop, Retreat and Tattoo.’

There were also warnings. ‘It being a practice with the enemy, when they make a capture, to keep an Englishman in the prize, to make answer when hailed by a British ship, particular caution is to be observed…’

Except in cases of ‘urgent necessity’, boats were not to be absent from their ships at mealtimes, and all boats belonging to ships at Spithead were to leave the shore so as to be back on board by sunset. All working parties were to have their breakfast before being sent on duty, and they were to be at their work by six o’clock in summer and as soon as practicable in winter. Boats were ‘to attend to take them to their dinners at a quarter before twelve, and they are to return to their duty at the expiration of an hour’.

There were forty-four printed instructions, but several more had been added in neat copperplate handwriting, and right at the end, headed ‘General Order’, was a long note about examinations for lieutenant. Their Lordships, it said, directed that the examination for candidates ‘touching their qualifications to serve as lieutenants in the Royal Navy’ should take place at Portsmouth, Plymouth and Sheerness as well as at Somerset House on the first Wednesday in every month. A candidate, Ramage noted, because this would very soon concern Paolo Orsini, had to bring: a certificate from the Navy Board saying how long he had served; his journals; certificates from captains under whom he had served of his ‘diligence, sobriety and obedience to command’, along with a certificate from the minister of the parish where he was born, or some other proof that he had reached the age of nineteen.

Finally, at the back of the book was glued a specimen form, twenty inches wide and with twenty-six columns, of
‘A daily report of the progress made in the equipment of His Majesty’s — the – day of—18–’.

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.’

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 they’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.’