'The admiral said he would send over some men. A hundred from the Cape convoy and fifty from the admiral, and we'll be able to sail.'

'We were lucky to get our full complement of Marines,' Aitken commented. 'Rennick says they're well trained, and he's quite content with the two lieutenants.'

'I'm more concerned with his four sergeants and four corporals: they are the backbone of the force,' Ramage said.

'We'll soon know,' Aitken said. 'I've got them bending on sails, and hoisting them up from the sail room is just the work for those Marines - some of them are giants.'

'How many of the new men are volunteering?' Ramage asked.

'When I last saw Clapton, most of them were taking the bounty. I think about one in ten was being put down as "pressed".'

Every man brought on board by a pressgang was given the chance of 'volunteering' and thus qualifying for the bounty paid to volunteers. It meant that 'vol.' was put against his name, instead of 'p' for pressed. Apart from being paid the bounty, h did not affect the way that a man was treated in the ship, but it did mean that a volunteer usually served more willingly - he had none of the resentment often felt by a man who had insisted on being rated 'pressed'.

Ramage, feeling bored, said: 'Let's make an inspection of the ship. Then I'll fill in the Daily Report and send it across to the admiral. He seemed quite content when I saw him this morning. Anyway, he did not complain.'

As he followed the first lieutenant out of the cabin and crossed the halfdeck, Ramage began to feel depressed again: the ship looked a mess. There were heaps of canvas, more rolled up sails waiting to be swayed up to the yards, and the decks were filthy. There was no need to comment on them to Aitken: there was no room to scrub them because ropes and sails took up every spare inch of space. Frayed ends of rope littered the gangways, thrown down as men cut them off the coil. They had various names: cows' tails - which they resembled - or 'Irish pennants', a title no doubt unfair to Ireland.

At least the guns looked tidy; they stood against the ports, tackles and breechings secure, the barrels shiny with a coating of new black gun lacquer and the carriages and trucks newly painted in yellow. The 32-pounders were damned big guns, he thought, his eye much more accustomed to the Calypso's 12-pounders. But the Dido was a ship of the line: if she ever fought in the line of battle she would be expected to give a good account of herself, and most of the punch would come from those 32-pounders.

Up on the fo'c'sle painters were giving the last few dabs to the belfry, but the ship's bell itself was in need of polishing. Ramage could see from the way that Aitken eyed it (as though it had an unpleasant smell) that he could not wait for the painters to get out of the way and the paint to dry enough for him to set men to work with brick dust restoring a polish to the tarnished metal.

The huge mooring bitts were freshly painted; the knightheads and catheads, too, had been carefully touched up. But the Dido did not look like a ship yet. In fact, Ramage decided, she looked more like a warehouse where a lot of gear had been dumped on the floor without rhyme or reason.

'When do you expect the new fifth lieutenant, sir?' Aitken asked unexpectedly.

'I should have thought he'd have arrived by now. He's the last of the officers.'

'I wonder if he will fit in,' Aitken speculated. 'We were lucky with Hill; he's settled down very well, and gets on with Kenton and Martin. And Southwick, too. I think the old boy is quite fond of him.'

'Yes, he has a nice dry sense of humour,' Ramage said. 'And plenty of initiative.'

'We're lucky that all three of them have plenty of that. And young Orsini, too.'

'Yes. I am going to make him a master's mate. That'll keep him ahead of these other midshipmen.'

Ramage was unusual in always referring to them as 'midshipmen': it was usual to refer to them as the 'young gentlemen', although their official rank - how they were listed in the Muster Book - was midshipmen. For years now Orsini had been the only midshipman on board the Calypso, and for that reason had quite unconsciously built himself up a privileged position, because it was usual for a frigate to have up to a dozen midshipmen on board. Ramage did not have a very high opinion of their usefulness, and Orsini had been lucky because, being the only one, he had been given extra responsibility, quite apart from the fact that his mathematics and navigation received Southwick's undivided attention, although mathematics were never going to be Orsini's strongest subject.

The huge foresail had been hoisted up and topmen were busy overhead securing it to the yard. The mainsail was already bent on to its yard and the maintopsail was being secured. Ramage was thankful that the shot for the 32-pounders, 24-pounders and 12-pounders had been left on board: collecting them from the stores and hoisting them in would have been a miserable job for the men. There was only the powder to come. For safety's sake every ship being refitted unloaded her powder into the powder hulks - a precaution against fire causing catastrophic explosions that could lay waste much of Portsmouth.

As Ramage and Aitken continued their inspection of the fo'c'sle, one of the new midshipmen came hurrying up. 'Mr Kenton's compliments, sir, but the new fifth lieutenant has just arrived on board.'

'Tell him to get his gear below and present himself in the cabin in fifteen minutes,' Ramage said.

As the boy hurried off, Ramage commented to the first lieutenant: 'Talk of the Devil . . .'

They went down to the messdeck, and Ramage was glad all the ports were open, creating a draught to get rid of the smell of paint. He looked round at the guns, tables and forms. The painters had been busy with the guns and carriages; the tables and forms were well scrubbed. Overhead rammers, sponges and wormers were held up in racks, restricting even more the limited headroom.

Aitken looked around him and said cheerfully: it's a far cry from the Calypso, sir.'

'Yes, nearly three times the number of men. And quite a few more guns . . .'

'I hadn't realized how big a seventy-four was until I found myself responsible for having it painted,' Aitken said wryly. 'And trying to run the ship with a frigate's complement of men isn't easy.'

'Well, you've the Marines and the West Indiamen to help you now,' Ramage said.

'I'm afraid they've arrived when the worst part of the work has been done.'

'More credit to you.'

'Much of the credit is due to Southwick: he's been invaluable, especially in rigging the ship. He's forgotten more about rigging a seventy-four than I'll ever know.'

'Well, learn as much as you can; it may be a three-decker one day!'

Aitken sighed, 'I hope I've been posted by then: I don't think I could stand the strain if I was still a first lieutenant!'

Ramage took out his watch. 'I had better get along to the cabin and see this new officer.'

There were many cabins in a ship, but only the captain's cabin was always referred to by everyone as 'the cabin'. Ramage walked under the half deck and through the coach into the cabin, thankful that tomorrow his furniture would arrive, and he would have chairs to sit in, and a desk to use.

The Marine sentry suddenly knocked on the door and called: 'Lieutenant Hicks to see you, sir.'

'Send him in.'

Ramage sat down on the breech of the starboard 12-pounder and watched as a thin-faced young man with fair hair slouched into the cabin. He was white-faced and pimply: he was round-shouldered and walked as though he expected to keep on glancing over his shoulder to see who was following him. He was, Ramage decided at once, one of the King's bad bargains.

'Hicks, sir, fifth lieutenant.' He handed over a sheet of paper that was his orders. Ramage noticed they were dated six days earlier.