The Scourge met them off Diamond Rock soon after noon and both ships hove to while Hill came on board to report on his trip to Barbados. First of all he handed over a sealed packet from the admiral, then he said delightedly: ‘The admiral is buying the Sirène and all the merchant ships have been condemned in the prize court in Bridgetown: they held a special hearing so that I could give evidence. By the way, what happened to the Achille, sir?’
‘We blew her up during the night,’ Ramage said shortly.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ Hill exclaimed. ‘The admiral was very worried about her: he thought the French might repair her and get her off. He wouldn’t be persuaded, even though I did my best to tell him how firmly she was wedged on that reef.’
‘Well, now she’s floating in tiny pieces off Pointe des Nègres and the French have no ships of war in Fort Royal.’
‘That’ll cheer up the admiral even more, sir,’ Hill said. ‘He was delighted about the convoy – but he’ll be telling you all about that in his letter, I expect.’
‘Yes, I’ll go below and read it. Now, you had better start getting your prize crews back on board here. You must have been crowded in the Scourge.’
‘It’s not far from Barbados, and most of the men have been sleeping on deck. I think they’ve enjoyed their cruise!’
In his cabin Ramage sat down at his desk and slit open the letter from the admiral. It was a long letter and started off, after the usual preliminaries, with congratulating Ramage on capturing the Sirène and the convoy. He was buying in the Sirène and the prize court had condemned all the merchantmen. But he was worried, he wrote, about the Achille. Ramage was to take immediate steps to make her unseaworthy, either by gunfire or some other means. The important thing was that the French should not have the use of a ship of the line at Fort Royal. Having accomplished that, Cameron continued, Ramage should return to Barbados without loss of time to take part in another operation of considerable importance.
An operation of ‘considerable importance’ – what could that be? Stopping the convoy getting into Martinique was, he would have thought, just such an operation. What else was there going on in the Windward Islands that needed a ship of the line? At least the admiral was not still short of frigates – he had just received the Alerte and the Sirène and the Volage with her mango plants, which should have cheered him up, apart from allowing him to promote a lot of his favourite young officers. A commander-in-chief, he thought, was in a happy position. First of all, he could send his favourite frigate captains out cruising in the best areas for capturing prizes. Then he collected his share of the prize money from every capture. After that he could promote favourites into the prizes, if he bought them into the King’s service. If you were a young lieutenant, Ramage thought cynically, the way to rapid promotion lay in becoming a commander-in-chief’s favourite.
He folded up the letter and called for Luckhurst to copy it into the letter book. He then walked through to the sick bay to talk to Bowen and see the men wounded the previous night. Bowen was his usual cheerful self and reported: ‘All the patients are doing well. Four of them will be back on duty in a week. The rest I’ll have to keep a bit longer.’
‘The first time you have had any work to do for days,’ Ramage said teasingly.
‘You’d be the first to complain if I had many on the sick list,’ Bowen said. ‘So far we’ve been lucky. Only gunshot wounds. Let’s be thankful we haven’t had a visit from the black vomit.’
‘I say a prayer of thanks every day,’ Ramage said soberly.
He went on deck to find that the last of the Didos were coming back on board from the Scourge, and he told Orsini: ‘Give Mr Bennett a hail and tell him to come on board.’
The brig would have to be left behind, continuing her lonely patrol off Fort Royal, but it was necessary to give Lieutenant Bennett his orders. The next few weeks were going to be dull for him, compared to the past week or so that the Dido had been around, but the young lieutenant had seen one of his former enemies, the Alerte, captured, and had arrived back just too late to see the other one blown up.
Ramage turned to find the chaplain, Brewster, gossiping with the purser. Jeremiah Clapton was also a tubby man, with spectacles and a large, bulbous nose, that made him look like a heavy drinker, which was unfair because he did not drink at all.
‘I was just remarking to Mr Clapton that we have left our mark on Martinique,’ Brewster said.
‘Yes, and we’ve been lucky that Martinique has not left its mark on us, apart from a few men in the sick bay.’
‘I’ve never heard of a ship of the line being boarded with so few casualties, sir,’ Brewster said admiringly. ‘And that frigate, too.’
‘I’ve never judged the success of anything by the size of the butcher’s bill,’ Ramage said shortly. ‘On the contrary. The more one can achieve with the minimum of casualties, the happier I am.’
‘I’m afraid their Lordships don’t always see it that way,’ Brewster said. ‘They seem to honour those captains who lose half their ships’ companies in some enterprise.’
This was not a subject that a captain of a ship of the line should be discussing with the chaplain and purser, Ramage decided, and waved to Aitken, who was just crossing the quarterdeck. ‘As soon as I’ve given Bennett his orders we shall be leaving for Barbados,’ he said. ‘Have the boats hoisted in.’
Bennett seemed to have mixed feelings about his orders. Ramage felt that the young lieutenant had enjoyed working with the Dido, and saw the immediate future patrolling off Fort Royal as a time of boredom, since there were no enemy ships of war to watch. His job now would be catching the odd drogher making her way up and down the coast, with cargoes no more exciting than barrels of molasses, and occasionally a bale of hides.
Finally the Scourge got under way and turned north, and the Dido made sail to the southwards, gradually hauling round to stretch south-eastward round Cabrit Island and out into the Atlantic to make for Barbados, which was stationed like a lonely sentinel, guarding the chain of islands.
Rear-Admiral Samuel Cameron was in a cheerful mood when Ramage went on board the Reliant in Carlisle Bay, Barbados. At first he was cautious, knowing that Ramage could have only just received his orders, sent in the Scourge, to destroy the Achille, but he was delighted when he was told that the French seventy-four had been destroyed even before the orders had arrived.
‘Well, Ramage, I must congratulate you: one seventy-four destroyed, three frigates captured and a veritable fleet of merchantmen taken. By the way, I have bought in the frigates – they are being valued at this minute.’
‘I am fortunate in having a good ship’s company, sir. Many of them have been serving with me for years.’
‘Yes, well, I am looking for someone to command one of the frigates – the Sirène. The only suitable man I had, I’ve given the Alerte. What about your first lieutenant?’
‘Aitken. He would be an excellent choice, sir.’
But Ramage’s heart sank. Under Aitken, the Dido was run like a ticking clock. Years ago Aitken had refused promotion to post-captain because he said he wanted to continue serving longer with Ramage. But now, if one was honest about it, the time had come when Aitken deserved to be made post, whatever his feelings might be. Yet the loss to the Dido would be considerable: he was cheerful and thoughtful, hardworking and reliable. He was, Ramage knew, as good a first lieutenant as a captain could hope to find. But a good first lieutenant deserved a good captain, and a good captain did not stand in the way of promotion which was both deserved and overdue.
‘Aitken, eh? A Scot? And you recommend him?’
‘Most highly, sir, although I’ll be very sorry to lose him.’
‘Well, that’s settled then: I’ll make him post and give him the ship. It’ll all have to be confirmed by the Admiralty, but that’ll only be a formality. How does that leave you in the Dido?’
‘I’ll just move everyone up a place, sir. My second lieutenant, Kenton, will make a good first lieutenant. My third, Martin, will be a good second. My fourth lieutenant, Hill, whom you met when he brought in the prizes, will make a good third. I’d like to make a master’s mate the acting fourth lieutenant, sir. Indeed, will you be assembling a board for examining lieutenants? This master’s mate, by the name of Orsini, is about ready to take the examination.’
Cameron grunted and made a note on a sheet of paper. ‘Yes, I have three or four midshipmen ready for the examination too: your youngster can take it with them. I’ll call the board for next Wednesday – you won’t be sailing before then.’
The admiral leaned forward and handed Ramage a folded sheet of paper which was covered in neat, copperplate hand-writing. ‘Read this. My clerk has just finished copying it out. It is my letter to their Lordships about your Martinique operation.’
Ramage took the letter and read it quickly, conscious that the admiral was watching him keenly. It was very flattering; quite the most flattering despatch he had ever read, in fact.
‘I’ll be enclosing your letter as well, of course,’ the admiral said, ‘which means it will be a Gazette letter. Not your first, I know, but it all helps!’
‘Thank you, sir: I appreciate it,’ Ramage said, and thought to himself, this has been quite an eventful quarter of an hour: I’ve lost my first lieutenant, started Paolo off on the first steps to being a lieutenant, and had my despatch to the admiral almost certainly made into a Gazette letter, which will please Father, who has saved all my Gazette letters so far. And it will please Sarah, too: Father will make sure she gets a copy and appreciates the significance.
But the fact is, Ramage thought grimly, I still don’t know what the admiral has in store for me.