He had been writing for half an hour and, pausing for a few minutes, found himself thinking how remote it all seemed; how distant from this comfortable room and quiet house. These orders were for the conduct of a ship of war, where at any hour of the day or night two hundred or more men could be fighting for their lives against a sudden storm or enemy ships. He was responsible for the ship, down to the last roundshot and length of marline, and for ten score men, from their seamanship to their health. Yet at this moment it seemed remote, and the case of pistols, the sword and scabbard on the floor beside him, seemed as out of place as a dog kennel in a church vestry.
He began wondering what officers the Admiralty would send him. So much depended on luck, even his own promotion to command a frigate. He would probably still be a lieutenant but for the fact that he had had to report personally to the First Lord after carrying out his last mission, which had been a complete success. Lord St Vincent had been so pleased that he had decided to make him post and give him a frigate. Not only that, but he had told him to name his own first lieutenant, something the old tyrant rarely did. It was just Ramage's bad luck that he had had no name to put forward.
His wary mention that he would be grateful if he could have old Southwick as Master had struck some chord in His Lordship's memory and he had agreed and at the same time said jokingly that he assumed Ramage was also going to ask for that bunch of scalawag seamen he seemed to manage to drag from one ship to the next.
Ramage knew enough of the Service to realize that by not asking for a particular first lieutenant he had left a vacancy which would be filled by one of His Lordship's favourites, or a man long overdue for promotion, and that His Lordship was well aware of that when he agreed to let him have Southwick as Master. So Ramage had grinned and said that by chance there were a dozen of those scalawags at Portsmouth and with His Lordship's approval of course . . . Lord St Vincent had given one of his dry chuckles and told Ramage to leave a list of the men's names and their ships with the Board Secretary, Mr Nepean.
There had been a knowing look in the old Admiral's eye: he was a fine seaman and knew that a young captain who had never before commanded anything bigger than a brig needed an experienced master whom he knew and trusted - and who knew and trusted him. And a dozen prime topmen were far more useful than a smart first lieutenant. A good captain and an experienced master might make up for a slack first lieutenant, but however good the captain and first lieutenant, they could never make up for a bad master. One could sail through an anchored fleet and point to the ships with bad masters...
Lord St Vincent had allowed him to have Southwick and the dozen men - but then he had settled down to a little bargaining of his own. By tradition the captain chose his own midshipmen, often relatives or sons of friends. With four allowed for every hundred men, Ramage was entitled to a maximum of eight. His Lordship had said, very casually: 'I suppose you have all the midshipmen you need?' knowing full well that Ramage had only learned ten minutes earlier that he was being given a frigate. He had only one candidate. A young nephew of Gianna's had recently arrived in England and been given permission to join the Royal Navy if he could find a captain to take him.
A newly-promoted captain would have a dozen applications in as many minutes after it was known outside the Admiralty that he had been given a ship, but so far the news had not travelled outside the First Lord's office, so Ramage mustered a pleasant smile and said: 'I have only one at the moment, sir - a nephew of the Marchesa's. Can I be of service to you?'
It so happened that he could, Lord St Vincent had said with obvious relief. The son of a cousin of Her Ladyship needed a berth - although it was entirely up to Ramage. Ramage nodded his agreement as he remembered Bowen, who had served with him in two ships: a brilliant surgeon who, ruined in London by drink, had joined the Navy but had now been cured. He was an amiable companion. If the First Lord's wife's cousin had a problem, now was the time for trading!
'I should consider it an honour, sir. If the young gentleman will present himself on board at Portsmouth?'
'Of course, of course; I'll see to it myself. Much obliged to ye, Ramage - and look'ee, Ramage, make sure you get a round turn on him right at the start.'
'Aye, aye, sir. By the way, may I make so bold as to request a particular surgeon? The man who was of especial service in the Lady Arabella, sir.'
'That was the Post Office packet you saved, wasn't it? Yes, I remember. Very well, then, give Nepean his name. I presume he is in England?'
'Yes, sir, he is on leave at the moment: he and his wife had dinner with us a few days ago.'
'Drink!' the First Lord suddenly exclaimed crossly. 'Doesn't he drink heavily?'
Knowing that next to officers who married too young, the First Lord most abhorred heavy drinkers, Ramage said hurriedly: 'He did, sir, before he first joined me.'
'Then what happened?'
'Well, Southwick - that's the master I requested - and I managed to cure him. He hasn't touched a drop for more than two years now.'
'By Jove!' the Admiral said. 'Curing the sawbones, eh? Now look'ee, I've just remembered a chaplain . . .'
He paused for a moment, watching Ramage closely. The captain of a frigate was not required to carry a chaplain unless one applied to join his ship. There were good and bad chaplains. A 32-gun frigate, with a ship's company of only 215 men, rarely provided a chaplain with enough work, even if he gave lessons to the midshipmen, so the captain and ship's company tended to be at the mercy ot the man's quirks, foibles and prejudices. A High Church chaplain soon upset all the Low Church men on board; a Low Church chaplain inevitably ran foul of the Catholics. Ramage had long ago decided that the men's spiritual needs were quite adequately catered for every Sunday morning by a short service conducted by the captain. Some rousing hymns did the men the world of good, and were the captain's best weathercock as far as their spirits were concerned. A contented ship's company sang lustily; a disgruntled crew did little more than mumble, with the fiddler's scraping nearly drowning their voices.
Lord St Vincent gave a wintry smile before Ramage answered, and said: 'Very well, I'll place him somewhere else. Currying favour with senior officers is not one of your faults, my lad; most young officers just told they're being made post and given a frigate would willingly ship ten chaplains if they thought it'd please the First Lord.'
'I was thinking of my ship's company,' Ramage said, then realized that he could hardly have made a more tactless remark added: ‘I mean, sir, that -'
'I know what you mean,' the Admiral said, obviously enjoying Ramage's embarrassment. 'I was a young frigate captain once. I doubt there are any tricks you'll contrive that I don't know about.'