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at deck level. The ropes, knotted with diamond knots and covered with red baize, hung a couple of feet away from the hull, held out by sideboys at a comfortable distance for a climber to grip them, like the banisters of a staircase, as he made his way up the side. The ship’s side was manned—the normal routine for the visit of a flag officer or captain.
    The Admiral went up with a briskness that surprised Ramage, and Gianna was just beginning to get up from the thwart and gather her skirt round her when Ramage gestured to her to remain seated. The Countess had not moved and smiled reassuringly at Gianna, guessing that although she had been in a frigate several times before she had never made an official visit.
    Gianna’s eye was caught by a red object high above her, and a rope dropped into the stern of the boat and then another dropped into the bow. A moment later a seaman slid down each one and nimbly scrambled to the middle of the boat in time to catch and hold the red object as it was lowered into the boat, and which she now recognized as a sort of chair suspended on a rope which went up to the main-yard.
    Then suddenly she recognized one of the seamen. “Rossi!
Come sta!
” She held out her hand and the Italian lifted it to his lips, suddenly too shy to speak.
    Then she saw who the other man was. “Stafford! What a wonderful surprise, the pair of you dropping out of the sky on me! Where is Jackson?”
    Rossi pointed upwards at the deck and turned the chair, flipping back the arm but waiting for the Countess to sit in it first.
    â€œI’ll go first, dear,” the Countess said tactfully, “then you’ll see how it is done.” The remark was spoken softly, and Gianna was grateful, realizing that in the Navy’s table of precedence the Countess of Blazey came first.
    The Countess settled herself in the chair. Ramage quickly inspected it and swung over the bar to secure it. She smiled at the two seamen and spoke to them for a few moments while Ramage climbed up the ship’s side.
    Rossi, watching him disappear through the entry port, whispered something to the Countess, and then made a circular movement with his raised hand. Slowly but steadily the chair rose, taking the Countess with it. “I love this,” she called down to Gianna, “it gives one such an unusual view of everything!”
    The chair swung slowly inboard once it had been raised clear of the bulwarks and entry port and was then lowered until it was two or three feet above the deck.
    â€œJackson!” the Countess said delightedly as the seaman stepped forward with two other men to steady the chair, open the bar and help the Countess out. In a moment the chair had been pulled clear and men bustled about tactfully as she shook out her skirt, adjusted her hair and acknowledged her son’s salute.
    While the chair soared up and was then lowered over the side again for Gianna, Ramage said formally: “Madam, allow me to present my officers.”
    Ramage guessed he had about three minutes for the presentation before Gianna soared on board, and knew his mother was accustomed to all the ritual and timing of Court and naval etiquette.
    â€œAh, Mr Aitken—my son’s right hand! Will you have time to visit Perth? … Mr Wagstaffe—you had a good voyage to Gibraltar with that prize-frigate? … Mr Kenton, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before, but I’ve read and heard all about your adventures … So you are Mr Martin. May I call you by your nickname and ask you to play for us—it is not often we can listen to a flute. My husband has known your father for years, of course … Mr Rennick, I’ve heard so much about you and your Marines that I feel I’ve known you for years! … Mr Orsini—Paolo!” She kissed him. “You left us a boy and you’ve come back a man! Your aunt will be with us in a moment! … Mr Southwick—not a