'Well, it's going to take you two or three weeks to get the Dido ready for sea, so you'll be able to see something of her.'

'This is the first time I've fitted out a seventy-four,' Ramage said. 'Has she got her masts in?'

The admiral shuffled through some papers on his desk. 'Ah, yes, here's yesterday's report. Masts are in, and your first lieutenant is setting up the standing rigging. Yards are on the dock waiting, along with the guns. Oh yes, she's lying alongside the Camber, so you will not need to use a boat, and your wife will be able to visit you.'

'I have permission to sleep on shore, sir?' Ramage asked, knowing it was needed under the regulations.

'Yes, while the ship is alongside. After that, I'm afraid not. My apologies to her ladyship, but I'm bound by the rules of the port.'

'She will understand. Well. I'd better get on board and read myself in,' Ramage said. 'I hope some convoys are due in - I'll need to send out some pressgangs.'

'You're lucky: a West Indian convoy is due any day, and another from the Cape of Good Hope. You should find some prime seamen.' The admiral smiled. 'You are also lucky that some of the ships in port are well supplied with men; only the Dido is so much below her complement, so you'll have first choice.'

The Camber was only a few hundred yards from the port admiral's house and Ramage decided to walk over, approaching the Dido slowly. The Dockyard was busy, with men trotting along wheeling handcarts, or being marched from one place to another. Another group of men pulled a cart on which were piled rolled up sails; yet another had several coils of rope. Ramage soon tired of saluting, but he realized there were few post-captains walking around the place in uniform with sword.

And there was the Dido. She seemed enormous, black hulled with a double yellow strake above and below the gundeck. Her masts towered up, the impression of height exaggerated because the yards were not crossed, but lying on the ground, waiting to be swayed up. And rows of guns nestling on their carriages - the great 32-pounders, twenty-eight of them, and thirty 24-pounders, sixteen 12-pounders and, like crouching bulldogs, eight 12-pounder carronades, the squatness exaggerated by the length of the barrels of the other guns.

Ramage climbed on board to be met by a startled Kenton, who had not seen him walking across the Dockyard towards the ship. He gave Ramage a hasty salute while sending off Orsini to find the first lieutenant.

'We didn't know when to expect you, sir,' he said apologetically. 'I did not see your carriage.'

'Don't worry,' Ramage said reassuringly, 'I walked over from the port admiral's house. It gave me a chance to look at the ship.'

Kenton grinned happily. 'A bit different from the Calypso, sir! Takes some getting used to.'

Ramage looked affectionately at the small, red-haired and heavily freckled youth. 'Well, Kenton, what does it feel like to be second lieutenant of a ship of the line?'

'Awesome, sir. And I have to thank you. Shifting all of us from the Calypso to here was a big surprise, and we owe the promotion to you; their Lordships would never have done it but for you.'

Ramage waved a hand diffidently. 'Well, it's up to you now.'

At that moment both Aitken and Southwick arrived simultaneously at the entryport and there was a flurry of salutes and greetings. As soon as they were over, Ramage said: 'Mr Aitken, muster the ship's company aft on the quarterdeck: I had better read myself in.'

Until he read his commission aloud to the officers and ship's company, he was not officially in command of the ship, and at the moment the parchment was sitting snugly in his pocket.

Within a minute or two the shrill calls of the bosun's mates, followed by the bellowed orders to muster aft, were echoing through the ship, and Southwick was standing beside him, saying in a low voice: 'Bit o' a surprise, sir, shifting us all from the Calypso!'

'Not unwelcome, I trust?'

The old master grinned, taking off his hat and running his hand through his flowing white hair. 'No, sir. I like to think we all deserved a seventy-four after all those years in a frigate. What does it feel like to command a ship o' the line?'

'I've only been on board about five minutes, so my feelings are a bit mixed,' Ramage said lightly. 'In theory I'm looking forward to it.'

'Our biggest trouble is going to be men,' Southwick said. 'At the moment we have less than half our complement.'

'The port admiral says two convoys are due in, one from the West Indies and the other from the Cape. With luck we should get at least a hundred men from each one.'

'I hope so,' Southwick said gloomily. 'I don't want to fill up the ship with rubbish from the prisons.'

'You can't avoid having some convicts when fitting out a ship as big as this.'

'I know, sir, but don't expect me to like it.'

Aitken came to report: 'The men are mustered aft, sir. Will you be making a speech?'

'A speech? Good heavens, the men know me well enough by now.'

'I still think they'd appreciate a few words, sir. It's an even bigger change for them than it is for us, and they've been working hard since they came on board.'

'Oh, very well,' Ramage said, hard put not to sound surly, 'but I've no idea what to say.'

He was startled when, as he strode across the quarterdeck past the assembled men, they started cheering him. He spotted Jackson, Stafford and Rossi grinning among the throng, and beside them the four Frenchmen. In front of each division stood the officers. There was the willowy, debonair third lieutenant George Hill, who spoke French fluently because his French mother had been unable to learn English. And there, stiff as a ramrod, was the fourth lieutenant, William Martin, popularly known as 'Blower' because of his skill with the flute. The freckle-faced Peter Kenton was standing to attention in front of his division and Ramage guessed Orsini was now on watch at the entryport. The Marines were drawn up in two files athwartships, with Sergeant Ferris and Lieutenant Rennick in front. Rennick, Ramage noted, should be promoted to Captain now.

The cheering had stopped and he took the commission from his pocket and unfolded it. He coughed to clear his throat and then began reading in a strong voice, hurrying over the preliminaries until he reached the important part: '. . . We do hereby appoint you captain of His Majesty's Ship the Dido willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board and take upon you the charge and command of Captain in her accordingly.' He read out the warning to the officers and men to behave themselves, answering to the contrary 'at your peril'.

Finally he came to the end and rolled up the parchment and looked round at the men. Yes, Aitken was right, they expected him to say a few words.

'Well, goodbye Calypsos, hello Didos,' he said. 'I see that you have a larger ship than when I last saw you. The port admiral has just told me the master shipwright reports that the Calypso is worn out. I only hope you men aren't worn out because -' he gestured aloft at the bare masts, '- there is a lot of work to be done up there.

'But more important, we shall have about three hundred and fifty new men joining the ship within the next week or two. Some will be trained seamen: some will be fresh off the farm; some will be fresh out of jail. But - as I remember telling you several years ago - none of them has a past the moment his name is written in the muster book. From then on he starts a new life as a Dido, and it will be up to him to make his own reputation. If he proves a bad man, he can expect no mercy from me. If he is a good man, then he will be treated accordingly. I mean that it is of no importance whether a man is an able seaman or fresh from the plough, he makes a fresh start.

'All this will mean extra work for you men, but also extra responsibility. I want you to help train the men that don't know their larboard hand from the hanging magazine. And I want you to make sure that trained seamen do things my way.'