'Well, you've been there, so that's some consolation.'

'Are we in Hampshire now, or still in Surrey? Anyway, it doesn't compare with Kent,' Sarah said firmly.

'Tell me, how do you get on with Raven?'

'Splendidly. He must be the perfect manservant. More than that, of course, since he acts as gamekeeper, coachman, gardener and general handyman, as well as waiting at the table. I'm in good hands.'

Ramage nodded. 'I imagined so. He looks a bit frightening with that scar across his face, but he must have learned a lot from those smugglers.'

'There's still plenty of smuggling going on across Romney Marsh - Raven says the packhorses are out a couple of times a week.'

'Good for them,' Ramage said. 'I've always been on the side of the smugglers - I like to think of the ladies getting their French lace and the squire his brandy!'

'It ill becomes the new captain of a ship of the line to say something like that,' Sarah said with mock severity.

'Most post-captains are sympathetic towards the smugglers: don't forget, the Customs and Excise are chasing us the moment our ships arrive in a British port. Take on a butt of Madeira if you happen to call at that island and the devils will be charging you duty if you want to land it and take it home. A yard of lace for the lady? Well now, sir, there's duty to pay on that. You've no idea what a close watch the Revenue men keep on the Navy. I think they regard us as only slightly less villainous than the smugglers.'

'All this talk of villainy is making me feel restless,' Sarah said. 'Let me put on a coat and hat and we'll take a walk.'

They made an early start next morning, after their horses were fully rested, and out on the Portsmouth road Ramage began reading off the distances from London as they passed milestones. After Horndean they drove for a mile through Bere Forest before emerging to find the Portsdown Hills in front of them. They were soon over the hills and running down to Cosham, skirting Portsmouth Harbour as they drove through Hilsea and Kingston, ships' masts and spars lining the horizon, before turning right at the Common and heading for the town centre.

Sarah immediately noticed all the masts of the ships anchored close in and in the Dockyard itself. The next thing that caught her attention was the way the town bustled - men who were obviously seamen were rolling casks, pushing carts laden with coils of rope, and dragging wooden sledges on which were piled a variety of things Sarah did not recognize. And there were the women, standing on corners, walking along the streets with an emphatic swing of the hips, or arm in arm with sailors presumably on leave. Whores, she suddenly realized, cheeks rouged and their clothes brightly coloured. And all, Sarah noted, looking happy. Was it a professional attitude or did they enjoy their work?

'Where are we going to stay?'

'The George,' Ramage said. 'There are only three inns of any consequence - the Blue Posts, used by midshipmen and the like, the Star and Garter, where lieutenants stay, and The George, used by post-captains and flag officers.'

'And ship widows.'

'Ship widows?' Ramage asked, puzzled. 'What are they?'

'The poor wives left alone while their husbands spend all their time on board their new ships. Like children with fresh toys.'

Ramage made a face. 'Yes, I'm afraid you'll be a ship widow some of the time, but you'll be able to visit her.'

'As soon as possible: apart from seeing the ship, I'm looking forward to meeting all my old friends, especially Southwick, Jackson and Stafford, and Rossi, of course. And my Frenchmen. I haven't seen them since we escaped from Brest.'

'That's a long time ago: why, you're an old married woman now!'

'Our adventurous honeymoon aged me! How many young women find themselves caught in the enemy's country when war is declared?'

'Well, it was an exciting time. Adds zest to life.'

Sarah smiled tolerantly. 'Zest? Well, counting the circumstances under which I met you along with the Brest escapade, I think I have had enough zest to last me the rest of my life. I'm quite happy to end my days as a staid old married woman!'

By now the carriage had drawn up outside The George and the coach boys - in fact two old men, probably Navy pensioners - were letting down the steps of the carriage with a bang while the innkeeper, probably warned that a carriage had arrived with a crest painted on each door, was standing ready to greet his guests.

Fifteen minutes later, waiting in their room as porters carried in their two trunks, Ramage said: 'Now I'm here in Portsmouth, I must report at once to the port admiral. From now on I am not a free man: I am at the beck and call of admirals, and admirals are notorious for having whims.'

'Worse than wives?'

'I haven't much experience of wives, but I should guess much worse.'

Vice-Admiral Edward Rossiter, the port admiral at Portsmouth, was a stocky, red-faced man with silver-grey hair who looked more like a prosperous landowner than a sailor, although Ramage knew he had a reputation for being a fine seaman who could handle a ship with the ease of a jockey managing a pliant horse.

He shook hands with Ramage and said: 'You're a lucky man to get the Dido: she handles well and we have just given her a good refit. But no one is going to thank you for bringing us the Calypso: she's just about worn out.'

Ramage shrugged his shoulders diffidently. 'I'm afraid she has seen some hard service in the last few years.'

'Have you commanded her long?'

'Several years, sir: since I captured her from the French in the West Indies.'

'That explains it. The master shipwright tells me she has a large number of repaired shotholes, but the repairs were not all made at the same time.'

'By no means, sir. The last lot were done in the Mediterranean, and the West Indies before that. The ship hasn't been in a dockyard since she was fitted out after we captured her, and that fitting out was done at English Harbour, Antigua, which was - and probably still is - a nest of thieves, where it is hard to refit a bumboat.'

Rossiter laughed and said: 'Yes, I know about English Harbour. Well, things are a little better here. There's still some work to be done on the Dido, but your first lieutenant is busy. He has a copy of the Port Orders, and I've no complaints so far: his daily reports come in on time. He tells me he was with you in the Calypso. He's new to seventy-fours.'

Ramage nodded. 'As you probably know, sir, the Admiralty turned over all the Calypsos to the Dido, so I have a good nucleus to start with: almost all the men have been with me since long before I commanded the Calypso.'

'You're a lucky fellow. But you have to find another three or four hundred men . . .'

'Yes,' said Ramage soberly, 'and train them.'

'Did you bring your wife down with you?' the admiral asked, fully aware that few of his captains were titled and married to the daughter of a marquis and, in Ramage's case, the son of an earl who had been a famous admiral. Captain Lord Ramage, the admiral guessed, was the source of much influence at the Admiralty. In that, Rossiter was in fact wrong: Ramage's only influence at the Admiralty arose as a result of many despatches describing his operations and which had been thought worthy of printing in the London Gazette, and there were more and more stories about his exploits in the Naval Chronicle, an aptly titled magazine decribing the activities of the Navy.

'Yes,' Ramage told the admiral, 'she is staying at The George.' And, realizing this was a good opportunity of making the point to the admiral, he added: 'I had been in the Mediterranean for some time, and the Admiralty had just given me three weeks' leave. The orders for the Dido came after only five days ...'