Ramage & the Renegades Read Online Free PDF Page B

rowed her to safety (even though one of Bonaparte’s cavalrymen had put a bullet in her shoulder), fell in love with her too.
    He admitted he had not at first been too pleased when the Captain told him that the Marchesa’s nephew would be joining the ship as a midshipman: he had visions of a spoiled Italian brat expecting privileges and constantly running to the Captain. Instead the Marchesa’s nephew (who would inherit the kingdom of Volterra if she had no children) was quite as tough as a young Scot of the same age would have been. He had proved something of a contradiction. He was hopeless at mathematics (and he and Southwick had to be careful about that, because the Captain’s own mathematics were said to be sufficient and no more) and tended to daydream, and he was famous throughout the ship for his forgetfulness. But in action, with round shot and musket-balls whistling about his ears, cutlasses flashing and clanging, and the odds against him at about ten to one, then he had the quickness of a snake, the cunning and ingenuity of a highwayman, the clear thinking of a gambler, and the bravery of—well, someone like the Captain, or Southwick.
    Aitken knew little of Italian character, but from what he had heard and seen (people like the seaman Rossi), Paolo Orsini was a happy mixture of the best of the British and Italian characters. As important as his behaviour in action was his attitude towards the day-to-day running of the ship: he was a leader. Aitken doubted if he was yet sixteen years old, but as a midshipman he had to give orders to seamen who had been at sea for twice as many years as he had lived. With many young midshipmen this led to trouble—and with old ones, too: failing their lieutenants’ examination, or passing but not getting a ship, resulted in midshipmen of forty who were almost invariably bitter drunkards. Orsini had such a cheerful manner, and he had learned so fast and was so anxious to go on learning, that he was the ship’s favourite. He had heard seamen exchanging stories of Orsini’s exploits in action, and they were related with pride, as one man might boast about his village’s prize-fighting cock.
    He spotted a white mop of hair up on the fo’c’s’le, showing Southwick busy with some men. He had to discuss with the Master the programme for tomorrow’s visitors because the old man knew them all. Then, Aitken decided, he would inform the lieutenants and then, before the midday meal, muster the men and tell them: they would want to get their queues retied and start the day with clean shirts. It was a Thursday, so they had to shave, but they would have done so anyway.
    â€œThe Frenchies made it fancy enough,” the bosun said as he held up the legless chair for Paolo’s inspection. “The lady sits on the seat, then this bar drops across the front from arm to arm and locks to hold her in. She sits back and up and away she goes.”
    â€œYes,” Paolo said doubtfully. “As soon as someone’s rove the whip I’ll try it out. Then we’ll change some of this red baize. It looks as though the rat did not like it.”
    â€œNot surprised, sir; it’s the same baize that’s used for covering the handle o’ a cat-o’-nine-tails and the bag to put it in. Not that we need it with this Captain.”
    â€œNo. I’ve never seen a flogging,” Paolo said, with all the curiosity of the young. “Is it really bad?”
    â€œYou probably won’t ever see one if you serve with Mr Ramage ‘cos he don’t believe in flogging; but yes, it’s ‘orrible. Most frigates like us’d have at least three or four a week. Not because the captains are cruel but a few bad men keep getting drunk or regularly make mischief. Mr Ramage managed long ago to get rid of the few bad apples and keep the good ones.”
    Paolo looked up at the starboard main yardarm. One man was passing a rope