Read Ramage & the Renegades for Free Online

through a block while a second paid out more from a coil slung over his shoulder. Paolo picked up the chair and walked over to one of the guns, followed by a puzzled bosun. Holding it by the arm he lifted it and then banged the seat across the breech of the gun. Dust particles lifted in a cloud.
    â€œJust making sure there’s no dry rot or woodworm at work under that baize,” he said. “Seems strong enough.” He looked up again and saw that one end of the rope had almost reached the deck. “Come on, hoist me up to the yardarm; I weigh a good deal more than my aunt or the Countess.”

    At ten o’clock next morning Ramage, once again wearing the heavy blue coat of a post captain, with its gold-braided lapels and the single heavy epaulet on his right shoulder indicating that he had less than three years’ seniority, stood on the Commissioner’s jetty and looked across the muddy Medway at the
Calypso.
    He had expected to find her heeled to starboard or larboard because the French guns had been hoisted out on one side or the other and lowered into the hoys. Instead she was floating on an even keel; all the yards were square.
    â€œShe looks very smart, Nicholas,” his mother said.
    â€œVery French, that sheer,” the Admiral commented. “A handsome ship. Not surprised they bought her into the Service after you captured her. A nice pile of prize-money for your men.”
    â€œWith that and the money from the convoy we captured, most of them would be rated wealthy by their neighbours,” Ramage said. “They deserved it!”
    â€œThe yawl, my Lord,” Wedge said, gesturing to the white-painted boat at the end of the jetty.” The Dockyard Commissioner looked to Ramage like a Gillray cartoon of a corrupt public official: rolls of fat began at his chin like canvas hose and circled to below his hips. His eyes were never still, jerking from face to face as if frightened of missing a proffered bribe or a warning glance.
    â€œYes, yes,” the Earl said impatiently, “we’re having a look at the ship from here.”
    â€œAnd very nice she seems, sir,” Wedge said predictably, like an ingratiating parson entertaining the patron of his living to tea.
    Ramage turned to Gianna. “Watch this,” he said, having just realized that the two figures on the quarterdeck were Aitken and Southwick but there was not another man in sight on board the ship. Wedge had spotted this too, and was grumbling to himself just loudly enough for Ramage to hear. “Seem to be asleep on board there. So much work to be done. The rest of the guns to be hoisted out …”
    Suddenly the shrouds of the fore, main and mizenmasts changed in appearance from thin cobwebs of rope to thick trunks of trees as scores of men raced up the ratlines. The first kept going and a couple of dozen walked out along the topgallant yards while below more spaced themselves at arm’s length on the topsail yards and the fore and main-yards. In a matter of moments the men were equally spaced out on all the yards, facing forward with arms outstretched, the tips each man’s fingers touching those of his neighbours on each side.
    Gianna gave a gasp of surprise and pleasure and the Countess, who had so often seen a ship’s company man the yards years earlier, turned to her son. “You shouldn’t have arranged that just for us, Nicholas!”
    â€œI didn’t,” Ramage admitted. “You can thank Aitken and Southwick when we get on board. Anyway, let’s go out to her now.”
    The yawl came alongside the
Calypso
and hooked on. The Earl looked at Ramage, who nodded. By the custom of the Navy, the senior officer was the last into a boat when leaving a ship but the first out when coming alongside.
    Two side ropes hung down, one each side of the battens forming narrow steps, or ledges, secured to the ship’s side from just above the waterline to the entry port