But Southwick and Aitken were still waiting expectantly, and he walked aft to the companionway. He clattered down the ladder, acknowledged the salute of the Marine sentry outside his door, pushed it open and walked into the cabin which, because his eyes had been dazzled by the sun reflecting up from the sea and the scrubbed decks, seemed very dark. There was a man sitting at his desk and he was just conscious of another smaller figure on the settee.
As the man stood up, Ramage recognized him and suddenly realized that of all his friends - few as they were - this was the one he most wanted to see at this moment. No wonder Southwick was grinning: the three of them had been shipmates several years ago, when Ramage had been under orders to find out why so many of the Post Office packets were being captured by French privateers.
As a startled Ramage just stared the man laughed. "You didn't expect to find that fellow Sidney Yorke sitting at your desk, eh?"
Ramage shook his head, trying to gain a few moments while he collected his thoughts. "No, hardly! I expected you to be in London, chasing clerks, bullying your shipmasters, and becoming very rich. Oh yes, and marrying and beginning a large family."
As he finished the last sentence he followed Yorke's eyes round to the settee and saw that the person sitting on it was a woman of such beauty and poise that he felt dizzy, almost disoriented by the surprise. Yorke had found an exquisite wife, and Ramage found himself walking forward in a daze to kiss the proffered hand and muttering "Daphne".
"You two have never met," Yorke said, his voice revealing a pride in both of them.
"But I have heard so much about you, Captain," the woman said, "that I feel I have known you for years. Why Sidney never persuaded you to visit us I don't know!"
Ramage hurriedly thought back across the years. Yorke had never mentioned a wife.
"The gallant captain was always rushing about in those days," Yorke said, "and of course there was the beautiful Marchesa!"
"Ah yes," the woman said, "the Marchesa. But we heard before we left England that she had returned to Italy ..."
She broke off, as if realizing she should not have mentioned it, but Yorke said: "It's all right: Nicholas must know she was caught in France when the war started again. Have you any news of her?"
Ramage shook his head. "Not a word. I know she stayed a few days with the Herveys in Paris, but whether or not she had left for Italy, I don't know."
Ramage pulled himself together and realized he was still holding the woman's hand, and Yorke introduced them formally: "Captain the Lord Ramage . . . Miss Alexis Yorke ..."
Ramage kissed her hand and then said politely: "Sidney, I trust you and Mrs Yorke will stay to dinner? Are you travelling in one of your own ships?"
As Yorke accepted the invitation, the woman laughed: the charming and tinkling laugh of a happy person who had just heard something amusing.
"Answering the last question first, yes. We came out in the Emerald. We planned a nice quiet voyage to celebrate the peace, and who knows, I might have found out here what I can't find in England!"
"And what is that?"
"Who is that," Yorke corrected, grinning.
"Very well, who. And have you succeeded?"
"A wife, and no, I haven't succeeded."
A dumbfounded Ramage turned to the woman, who burst out laughing. "I thought you heard Sidney introduce me as 'Mrs', but he said 'Miss' Alexis Yorke. I am (thank goodness) his sister, not his wife. In fact I have been sorting out the widows, fortune-hunters and desperate mothers among the islands and -"
"- and she has rejected the whole lot of them," Yorke said.
"Out of hand," Alexis said firmly. She looked up at Ramage, who realized she had large eyes which seemed in the shade of the cabin to be black, and she gave what could only be described as an impish grin. "You see, it isn't just a question of a wife for Sidney, but a sister-in-law for me."
"Quite." Ramage said carefully. "It could be a problem."
"Not 'could', but 'will'. Sidney will expect his bride to be immune from seasickness and as fond of going to sea in his ships as he is. She won't, of course; she'll hate the sea and will get sick even in a well-sprung carriage going down the Mall, so she will stay at home when he goes off on his voyages and every day she will come round and weep on my shoulder."
"You have no sense of family loyalty," Yorke chided. "You should be only too glad to console a grieving sister-in-law."
"I'll console a grieving sister-in-law," Alexis said, "but not a moping one, and if I don't keep an eye on you we'll end up with a moper."
"You could get married and live at the other end of the country.' Ramage commented, but she shook her head.
"Don't suggest that," Yorke said. "She's already inspected all the eligible men and found them wanting. If she lives at the other end of the country, I'll have my house forever cluttered up with a brother-in-law complaining that his wife has just gone off on a sea voyage ..."
"I love sea voyages," Alexis said, and her laugh seemed to make the Calypso come alive. "But not every man does."
"What she means is that when the suitors come knocking on the door, the first question she asks is whether or not they like sea voyages. If they say no, they don't cross the threshold."
Ramage excused himself for a moment: he had to give instructions to his steward for the meal. Silkin, sensing that with two guests the captain would at last allow him to fetch out all the silver and cut glass that stayed so long in drawers amid green baize, and napers that yellowed with disuse, listened carefully. The courses he and the captain would like to serve were limited by the frigate's cooking facilities and the fact that he could not get on shore and buy a prime cut of meat in time to roast it. Roasting food was a time-consuming job in a frigate's galley.
"Lobsters," Ramage said. "You can do much with lobsters. The wardroom bought a lamb yesterday. See if they will sell me enough to make up a plate of cold cuts."
"The prizes," Silkin reminded him. "All those salami sausages, or whatever the French call them. There are those what likes that sort o' thing, sliced thin. And we've a couple of hams left that go ten pounds each."
The midday meal, traditionally eaten by the captain about two o'clock and called dinner, was going to be a pleasant one. At that moment, Ramage realized that he had never enjoyed a meal he had to eat alone: it was as if guests were needed to give food any piquancy.
He went up on deck into the dazzling sunlight to find Aitken and explain why Southwick and not he was being invited to dinner, but the Scotsman understood only too welclass="underline" the master had already told him how Mr Yorke was with them in the Post Office packet.
Ramage turned to go back down the companionway and found that Alexis had come up the steps and was now looking through one of the gunports. She turned and smiled as he approached.
"Are visitors allowed on deck?" she asked.
"Visitors such as yourself are encouraged to be on deck," Ramage said lightly. "The sun seems brighter."
Again that impish smile. "You are very gallant, Captain."
"The opportunities are very rare," he said dryly.
"Who is 'Daphne'?" she asked quietly.
"Daphne? I don't know anyone of that name," he said lamely. The name had sprung to mind the moment he saw her in the shadowed cabin; but surely he had not spoken it aloud?
"I heard you say it and I saw your lips forming it," she said, "but I must not pry into your secret."
"Secret? No secret, I assure you," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment. He managed to muster a laugh. "Oh indeed, no secret!"