The black-hulled Calypso frigate had caused a stir of interest from the moment she sailed up the muddy Medway on the first of the flood, her ship's company racing round the deck working sheets, tacks and braces as she tacked and then tacked again the moment she had way on. The Medway narrows up as it nears the towns past the ruins of Upnor Castle (battered a century and a half earlier by the Dutchman, de Ruyter), and has some nasty bends, with mudflats a few inches below the water to trap the unwary.

Once she had moored off Chatham Dockyard, the ship and her men came under the authority of the Commissioner and was soon the target of all his minions. Ramage had managed to get a copy of a recent Royal Kalendar to see the names of the men who would be responsible for the Calypso's refit and whom Aitken, the first lieutenant, would spend several weeks cajoling, persuading and threatening to get work done properly and reasonably promptly.

The first name in the Kalendar under 'Chatham Yard' was the Commissioner Resident, listed as 'F.J. Wedge, esq., 800 L., more for paper and firing 12 L'. Ramage conceded that the Commissioner probably earned his £800 a year pay, and probably quadrupled it from bribes and all the corrupt activities a man in his position could indulge in. The Navy Board were showing their usual parsimony in allowing only £12 a year to pay for stationery and fuel for the fires or stoves. Still, there must be plenty of old wood lying around.

The Master Shipwright, Martin's father, was paid £200 a year - the same as the Master Ropemaker, Master Boatbuilder, Master Mastmaker, Master Sailmaker, Master Smith, Master Carpenter, Master Joiner and Master Bricklayer. The Bosun of the Dockyard received only £80, but the storekeeper received £200 and was probably - because of the opportunity for fraud - the wealthiest of the Dockyard employees.

Most of them had come on board as the frigate was moored up, not because a 36-gun French frigate captured and brought into the King's service was an unusual sight but because the exploits of the Calypso and her captain had been mentioned in enough Gazettes to make them both famous. It would not mean any favourable treatment for the ship, because Dockyard officials were by nature close-fisted men, issuing paint, rope, canvas and the like as though they paid for it themselves. There was the story of one eccentric and aristocratic captain who, receiving the Navy Board's issue of paint for his ship, wrote to their Lordships and asked which side of the ship he should paint. Their Lordships were not amused and the captain ended up doing what most captains did - paying out of his own pocket for the extra paint needed.

Ramage had stayed on board for a week as the Calypso swung on the buoy with wind and tide until their Lordships answered his request for leave - no officer was allowed 'to sleep out of his ship' without written permission, and that included admirals. Ramage had been given a month's leave and the ship was left in command of James Aitken. The Scotsman had no wish to go up to Perth on leave (Ramage discovered for the first time that Aitken's mother, the widow of a Navy master, had recently died) and he obviously trusted no one else to make sure the refit was done properly. Ramage knew that, however keen and eagle-eyed Aitken was, the man who really mattered was Southwick, the master, a man old enough to be the father and almost the grandfather of both his captain and first lieutenant.

Leave for the men, all of whom had been away from Britain for at least a couple of years, was always a problem for any captain. Usually half the men had in the first place been seized by pressgangs, and if the ship was an unhappy one because of the captain or her officers, giving the men leave would result in a number of them deserting: never returning to the ship and forfeiting a year or more of the pay due to them. Popular captains did not have to worry so much, but even if the men returned, a percentage of them would have spent their leave in and out of brothels and would come back riddled with venereal disease. This would put money in the surgeon's pocket, because he was allowed to make a charge for venereal treatment, but eventually it meant lost men: nothing cured syphilis.

Some captains gave leave only to selected men but Ramage disliked the system: it smacked of favouritism and the men not chosen were resentful. As he told Aitken, it was leave for all or for none, and he had decided on all: they would be allowed two weeks each.

One watch could go at once; the other when the first came back. He had mustered the ship's company aft on the quarterdeck and told them of his decision - and told them he trusted them to come back on time. In the meantime, he added, the watch left on board would have to work twice as hard.

Nor had that been an exaggeration. One of the most arduous tasks to be done was changing the Calypso's guns: she still mounted the French cannons with which she had been armed when Ramage and his men captured her. Ramage had managed in Antigua to get rid of the unreliable French gunpowder and stock the magazine with British, and there had been enough French roundshot on board to fit their size of guns, but the ship had been in action enough times to have the gunner reporting that the shot locker was now less than a third full.

The Ordnance Board had agreed to supply British 12-pounders to replace the French, and the shot to go with them, but not without a good deal of argument. Ramage never understood why the Ordnance Board, part of the Army, should have anything to do with naval gunnery, let alone control it completely. Anyway, hoisting out all the Calypso's French guns and carriages and lowering them into hoys, and then getting all the shot up from the shot lockers - a deep, narrow structure in the ship like a huge wardrobe open at the top - was going to be hard work for the fewer than one hundred men comprising the one watch left on board. Then the hoys would bring out the new guns and carriages, and getting them on board would be more wearying than disposing of the French ones.

Once the new guns were at their ports, there would be new train tackles and breechings to be spliced up - the Master Ropemaker had agreed that the French rope had not been of a very good quality to start with, and two years' more service had brought it to the end of its life: when the rope was twisted to reveal the inner strands, they were grey; there was no sign of the rich golden brown of good rope.

Halyards, tacks, sheets, braces and lifts were all being renewed, along with many of the shrouds. The Master Shipwright and Master Mastmaker had inspected the masts and decided not to hoist them out for inspection. Only the foreyard, which had broken in the Mediterranean and been fished by the Calypso's carpenter and his mates, would be replaced. Then the Calypso would be towed by her boats into the drydock and, once all the water had been pumped out, leaving the ship sitting high and dry, shored up by large baulks of timber wedged horizontally between the ship's side and the walls of the dock, her copper sheathing would be inspected. All the sheets round the bow and stern would have to be replaced - this was a regular procedure for ships of war because, for a reason not yet understood (though there were dozens of theories), the sheathing there always became thinner and thinner and was eventually reduced to a mass of pinholes. Ramage hoped - even though it would delay sailing - that all the sheathing would be renewed.

It was unusual to keep a ship's officers and men standing by her during a long refit; usually the captain was given another command, and the officers and men distributed among other ships, but as a gesture to Ramage's record, Lord St Vincent, the First Lord, had directed that the Calypso's men should be kept together. Which was also more than a hint that he had a job for them all once the refit was over.