Perthshire seemed ten thousand miles away, and Dunkeld twice as far. As he walked away from the binnacle he thought of his home in the lee of the ruined cathedral at Dunkeld, with the River Tay sparkling and gurgling nearby, bitterly cold and alive with trout. Many a trout he'd tickled as a boy and cooked over a bonfire, and never did fish taste so delicious, even though one side was usually burned to charcoal and the other side raw. It had been a hard life as a boy, since his father had been away at sea for one and two years at a time, and his mother had to rule her family of three boys and three girls with the sternness of a drill sergeant, and there was never enough money. Until he had first gone to sea he had not known what it was to wear clothes specially bought for him: as the youngest son he had always had the clothes which his older brothers had outgrown.
That was something Captain Ramage had never experienced - there was obviously plenty of money in his family - yet you would never think it from the way he behaved. He was not mean but he lived simply and had simple tastes. He always set a good table when he invited any of the officers to join him for dinner, but there was none of the ostentation that Aitken had so often seen in wealthy captains. The patronizing comment about a vintage wine, for instance, knowing that a poor damned lieutenant's only knowledge of wine was probably the 'Black Strap' issued instead of rum when the ship was in the Mediterranean.
Aitken had heard some stories about Captain Ramage's father, too, the Earl of Blazey. Men said that as a captain and as an admiral the nickname of 'Old Blazeaway' was used with pride and affection by everyone who served with him, from the cook's mate to the most senior captain, and that it was a nickname earned not only because of his behaviour in battle but because he commanded ship, squadron or fleet sternly and justly, and woe betide anyone, cook's mate or captain, who did not measure up to his standards.
The son had puzzled Aitken at first. The son of a man who held one of the oldest earldoms in the kingdom and who had been one of the country's most famous admirals could have expected very rapid promotion if he chose the Navy: captain's servant or midshipman in ships whose captains would ensure he had the finest training; appointment as a master's mate the moment he passed his examination for lieutenant and waited until he was twenty, the lowest age he could serve as a lieutenant. And the day after he was twenty he would receive an appointment as lieutenant, and probably in some flagship so that he was readily available the moment a vacancy occurred in one of the ships of the fleet for a more senior lieutenant. By the time he was twenty-three or so, he could reckon to be made post, after having spent a year or two commanding a smaller vessel. He might have the necessary knowledge of ships and men but, Aitken reflected bitterly, it was rare: 'interest' mattered more than seamanship.
That had not happened with Mr Ramage; so much was obvious. He had commanded several ships as a lieutenant but Aitken knew that if 'interest' had been at work he would have been made post at least a couple of years ago, whereas in fact he had been made post only a few days before taking command of the Juno.
When the word had reached him from the First Lord's office that he was to be the Juno's new First Lieutenant, Aitken had been delighted: Lord St Vincent had certainly always kept his word that he would look after the son of the master of the first ship he had ever commanded. But as soon as he heard that the Juno's new commanding officer was to be Captain Ramage he had grave doubts. He had heard enough stories to know that he was brave - foolhardy, some had said - and a good seaman, but Aitken had been worried by two things. The first was why he had never used his title, and the second was why he had not been made post earlier. Perhaps his reputation for being a fine seaman was simply talk.
It had taken only a few hours to get the answers: the Juno was hardly clear of the Wight before he realized that this young Captain - he guessed they were about the same age - was not only a fine seaman, but a fine instinctive seaman, which was quite a different thing. There were few men who really had the feel of a ship, who could make a vessel do what they wanted with the vessel's co-operation. That was the secret; handle the ship like a horse, so you guided it, not fought it. And know the weather. Mr Ramage often said quietly that he thought it was time to furl topsails, or reef, when clouds on the horizon would not have worried Aitken, and sure enough an innocent-looking patch of grey cloud would suddenly turn into a screaming squall that would have ripped the sails from the yards but for the Captain's instinct. Back in Dunkeld, Aitken thought, it would have been called the second sight.
The three lieutenants who had joined the ship at the same time agreed with what Aitken had told them off the Lizard. They had grumbled at the Captain's announcement, and said that what he wanted was impossible and that they needed more time. But Aitken had told them flatly that they were lucky to be serving in the same ship as this Captain - and this Master, for old Southwick had more seamanship in his little finger than most men had in their whole bodies.
Having satisfied himself about his new Captain's seamanship, Aitken had set out to discover, as discreetly as possible, why he was never known in the Service as Lord Ramage. Old Southwick, who had served with him for three or four years, soon gave him the answer: senior officers without titles sometimes became vindictive about junior officers with, and few hostesses knew where to seat titled juniors in relation to their untitled seniors.
Aitken saw now that Lord St Vincent really had been keeping his promise: he had deliberately chosen the Juno for him, knowing he would be under Mr Ramage. If the stories he had read in the Gazette were authentic, serving with Mr Ramage could bring you honour or it could get your head knocked off by a roundshot. It was not so much that he went looking for trouble but that he seemed to be given tasks that, even reading the dry-as-dust accounts in the Gazette afterwards, must have been almost impossible to achieve. He must get singled out for them. Well, whatever the reason, it meant that Mr Ramage was more than likely to have a detached command; orders which would mean that the Juno would carry out some special service in the Caribbean and not be attached to Rear-Admiral Davis's command at Barbados. For the whole of Aitken's life at sea so far he had served in ships attached to a particular command, usually working with a fleet in the Channel or Mediterranean . . . Dull work, and irritating, too, because any slackness was sure to be spotted by the flagship, and even if whatever drew down the admiral's wrath was not slackness but one of those mishaps that are bound to happen - a rope snagging on a cleat, a seaman slipping on a wet deck, a rips sail ripping from luff to leach - no excuses or explanations were accepted. Indeed, it was a stupid or unsure captain or lieutenant who even bothered to offer one.
Aitken thought about the coming day and took off his hat to wipe his brow. Mr Ramage was walking round the deck now, and he tried to think of the manoeuvres the Captain was likely to order him to perform in that quiet voice of his. All tbe usual sail-handling he knew the men would perform well - better than he could have hoped even a week ago. But from the talk he had heard, from the stories that Southwick had told him of past operations, Mr Ramage had a reputation for doing the unexpected. Admittedly Southwick's stories had all been about doing unexpected things against the French and Spanish, but any captain wanting to test his ship's company was likely to order something unexpected too ...