'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.'

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.'

'You're hinting that you don't want me to order you to sleep on board yet.'

Ramage laughed and said: 'My furniture won't be delivered until tomorrow. At this moment the cabin, coach and bedplace are bare of anything except the 12-pounders.'

'I've never met a young husband at a loss for a reason to sleep on shore,' Rossiter said amiably. 'Let me know as soon as you receive orders from the Admiralty.'

The sails were swayed up to the yards by slings and bent on during the day: heavy and hard work. Southwick commented: 'It's a miracle how much we've got done so far: fitting out a ship of the line with a frigate's complement is like being on a treadmill.'

The boats with the pressgangs came back just after the midday meal, a delighted Aitken reporting to Ramage: 'We got ninety-seven men altogether. Clapton's busy getting their names down in the Muster Book. At least half of them should be prime seamen.'

'Let's hope we're as lucky with the Cape convoy. It's due in tomorrow.'

'I don't see why we shouldn't,' Aitken said. 'Kenton said there were not many other gangs out.'