St. Vincent - 8. Chapter 8

October, 1796

Dinner had ended up being a grand affair, with all of his officers as well as Perkins. Granger had used the opportunity to brief them on their new orders. He thought about how similar that had been to his initial meeting with Darby, and how he’d postponed their more intimate meal in the same fashion. These comparisons with Darby put a damper on Granger’s mood until he looked over at Perkins and felt the lust within him surge forward, blocking out all of those logical arguments.

After dinner, Granger had been absorbed in the various aspects of preparing Belvidera for sea. He’d watched as Perkins had managed to seamlessly work himself into the operations of the ship for the day. He spent most of his time with Villiers, which pleased Granger, since Villiers seemed to have difficulty in grasping the basic tenets of seamanship. Granger wasn’t sure if that was because Villiers was a slow learner in general, or if it was because he just had more difficulty with nautical things, but he was definitely taking a long time to catch on. That reminded Granger briefly of Cavendish, who’d been a slow study as well, and that brought a smile to his face.

Finally, Granger was able to retreat to the relative privacy of his quarters, dragging Perkins along with him. Winkler was there waiting for him. “I think we will have a casual supper,” Granger announced.

“Yes sir,” Winkler said automatically. “Mr. Perkins, if you’ll let me attend to your jacket and waistcoat, we’ll make sure they’re ready for your return to the flagship.”

“You can help him change in my office,” Granger said. “I’ll be in my sleeping cabin. I think we’ll have some wine in the quarter gallery.”

“Aye aye sir,” Winkler said. He summoned another servant to help Perkins, while he followed Granger into his sleeping cabin to attend to him.

“Perhaps you can make sure they have a cot for Mr. Perkins in the Midshipman’s berth,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” Winkler said as he tried to hide his smirk.

“And why are you so happy these days?” Granger asked him pointedly, removing the smirk from his face. “Is there any correlation between your joy and Jeffers good mood?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Winkler said, blushing.

“You’re not sure?”

Winkler was positively dying from embarrassment, so much that Granger was almost about to let him off the hook. Almost. “We’ve been, uh, experimenting.”

Granger laughed. “Good for you, Winkler. I don’t suppose you’d care to share the results of your experiments?”

“That wouldn’t be my first choice, sir,” Winkler said.

“I am glad that you are happy,” Granger said. He went out into the quarter gallery, wearing just trousers and a shirt that was opened to the waist. The quarter gallery had been modified by Winkler and Meurice with a shade to protect it from the sun. It made evenings in port much nicer, and it also had the advantage of making it quite private.

Perkins was dressed much as Granger was; only his shirt wasn’t opened as far as Granger’s. Granger suddenly felt self-conscious, as if he was naked in a room of fully clothed people, but then his feelings of doubt were overwhelmed by the vision in front of him. Perkins wasn’t wearing a hat, and had let his long blond hair flow down, giving him an almost angelic look. With his uniform on, he’d looked scrawny, but with his shirt open, it was possible to see his well-formed muscles. He wasn’t scrawny at all; it would be more appropriate to say he was wiry. One of those lads who hadn’t thickened up yet and maybe never would. Granger looked into Perkins’ light blue eyes and saw the nervousness there. “You look very angelic, Mr. Perkins,” he said, using humor to try to make Perkins more comfortable.

“Appearances can be deceiving, sir,” Perkins joked back, but his nervousness had not abated much.

“Have a seat,” Granger said, gesturing to one of the chairs. He poured them both a glass of wine. “You seem uncomfortable. You do not have to sup with me if you do not want to.”

Perkins looked at him, horrified. “No, sir,” he said hastily. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day. I’m sorry if I’m nervous.”

“I have found that sometimes sharing the reasons for your feelings is helpful,” Granger said gently. “If you would like to confide in me, I will give you my word of honor that I will not reveal what you tell me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Perkins said, wide-eyed, as he digested that statement. His mood changed after that, from one who was nervous to one who had a new resolve. They sat there for some time, just drinking their wine and looking out the windows at the port that was so busy with the activity of evacuation. “My experiences on Blanche are hard to put behind me.”

“And here you are, in the great cabin of a frigate, and it must seem to be almost the same place,” Granger said, making a lot of assumptions. It turned out they were correct.

“Yes, sir,” Perkins said. “I’m worried that if I tell you what happened, you will think so ill of me you will send me back to Captain at once.”

“I cannot promise you what my reaction will or won’t be, but I promised you I would say nothing, and I can also promise you I won’t ship you back to the commodore before morning.”

Perkins nodded. “I think if you hated me, that would be worse than anything, sir.”

“Why is that, Mr. Perkins?” Granger asked. He let that irritate him a bit, since it sounded like Darby had been when he had gotten into his cloying persona. “We only met recently.”

“Sir, Commodore Nelson has a way about him, a magnetism that draws people in.”

“He does,” Granger agreed.

“You have that same kind of magnetism; only it is different, begging your pardon, sir. Yours is less raw, and more cultured,” Perkins said. “How would you feel if Commodore Nelson didn’t respect you?”

Granger pondered that. “I would feel quite horrible.” He understood what Perkins was saying now. “Still, life is full of risks, and you are at a juncture where you must either tell me all, or tell me nothing. If you tell me nothing, we will go along being fellow officers and acquaintances, but our relationship will never grow into what can be termed a friendship. The alternative is that you open up to me, and risk that I will be so disgusted by what you tell me, I will not want to be your friend.” Perkins nodded. “Even if the second scenario happened, which is most likely not possible, we would still be fellow officers and acquaintances. So you have really not much to lose.”

“I understand, sir,” Perkins said. He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’d been on Blanche for less than a fortnight when the captain started making advances to me. The other midshipmen teased me, and they weren’t nice about it, telling me what was going to happen. They were all happy that he was out for me and not them.”

“They threw you to the wolf,” Granger said, more to encourage him.

“Yes, sir,” Perkins said. “It only took him another week after that until he got me into his bed.”

“He buggered you?” Granger asked. Perkins nodded. “That must have been traumatic for you.”

“This is where you’ll hate me, sir,” Perkins said. “It wasn’t traumatic at all. I liked it. I loved it.”

Granger smiled gently and put his hand on Perkins shoulder. “I do not hate you. You are not the first man to enjoy being with another man.”

Perkins looked at him with relief, and was indeed so relieved that he let out a sigh. “The other men treated me like a leper because I was obviously the captain’s favorite. I never wanted that. I just wanted him to fuck me, and then treat me like any other member of the crew.”

“Is that when you wrote to your grandfather and asked to be transferred?” Granger asked.

“No, sir,” Perkins admitted. “I never did that. I figured I’d solve my problems on my own.”

“What happened?”

“The other officers hated me, especially the other midshipmen,” he said, almost with a sob. “I did my duty, and pulled my weight, but because I was his favorite, they hated me.”

“How did the men treat you?” Granger asked.

“They treated me alright, sir,” he said as he thought about it. “I think they felt sorry for me.”

“So it was their treatment, the treatment of the other officers that made it unbearable?” Granger was trying to decide if that would be enough for him, and he decided that it probably would.

“No, sir, it was actually when the captain got mean,” Perkins said.

“He got mean?” Granger asked. Perkins nodded. “How was he mean?”

“He would beat me, and whip me, and he even…” Perkins voice trailed off. He stood up, swallowing hard, and pulled down his trousers. Granger felt himself hardening at the sight of what would have to be the perfect ass. So small, so pert, with dimples on each cheek, Perkin’s ass was so thin you could see his pucker even though he was barely bent over. Then Granger looked harder and saw a vicious scar on the left cheek, the kind of scar that happens when someone is burned by hot metal.

“He branded you?” Granger asked as the anger flowed through his body. What man would hurt a young man like this? What man would scar the most perfect ass in the world? Granger instinctively reached out and touched Perkins’ ass, running his hand over the scarred cheek, eliciting a slight moan from the young man.

“Yes, sir,” Perkins said, only now the mood had changed. Granger told himself that he should stop now, but he doubted that it was possible. He continued to run his hands over Perkins’ cheek, but allowed his fingertips to glide up and down his crack.

Perkins spread his legs wider, giving Granger unfettered access. Granger let his hands explore with more purpose, stroking Perkins’ pucker now, while he reached around and grabbed Perkins’ hard cock. “Follow me,” Granger said. Perkins pulled up his trousers and held his hands over his tenting groin, then followed Granger into his sleeping cabin.

As soon as they had shut the cabin door, Granger pulled Perkins to him firmly and smothered the young man’s mouth with his own. Perkins responded enthusiastically, and wrapped his arms around Granger, letting Granger free his hands and lower them down to that delectable ass. “I want you,” Perkins cooed in Granger’s ear. “Please.”

Granger spun Perkins around and grabbed for the lanolin while Perkins lowered his trousers and bent over. Granger lined his dick up and pushed in slowly but firmly, into this place of ecstasy where Perkins’ hole seemed to suck him in. Slowly and lovingly, Granger began to move in and out, showing Perkins the love and care he’d been unable to get from Sawyer. He leaned in to Perkins’ ear and whispered, “You are amazing, absolutely amazing.”

Perkins giggled at his comment, but only briefly, as he re-immersed himself in their fuck. Granger reached around and gently stroked Perkins’ cock, but Perkins pushed his hand away gently but firmly. “I’m sorry sir, but you’ll bring me off too soon. I don’t want this to ever end.” Granger fondled his nipples instead, massaging them gently, making sure to use gentle touches with this amazing young man that had been so mistreated.

Perkins began panting faster, then arched his back so he could stretch his neck back and whisper in Granger’s ear. “I’m gonna cum,” he whispered urgently. Then he came. Granger wrapped his hand around Perkins’ cock and felt his warm seed flow over his skin. He felt Perkins’ body spasm, felt it twitch and writhe like a man who is having a fit, as he deposited his load in Granger’s hand. Granger pulled out gently, then used Perkins’ load as additional lubricant as he stroked himself to an orgasm, blasting his cum all over Perkins’ still-throbbing hole.

“That was the most incredible experience I have ever had,” Perkins said, as he grinned at Granger.

“You are an accomplished lover, Mr. Perkins,” Granger said with a twinkle in his eye. He wiped his semen off of Perkins, and cleaned his hands off as well. Perkins grinned and blushed at him. “Are you ready for supper?”

“I’d rather stay right here and have sex again, sir,” Perkins said.

“It’s a half hour before dawn,” Perkins said as he climbed naked into Granger’s bunk. “Winkler told me I could wake you up.”

Granger smiled as he opened his eyes. He was still waking up as Perkins lowered himself onto Granger’s throbbing morning erection. Granger lay back and let Perkins do all the work, and the young midshipman was such an accomplished lover, he brought them both off at almost the same time. “I’ve a mind to forget to drop you off,” Granger joked.

“I would gladly request a transfer, sir,” Perkins said seriously.

“Perhaps that day will come, but it is not today.” He smiled at the young man’s disappointment. “I have a feeling we will meet again, soon enough. In the meantime, let us have breakfast.”

They didn’t have much time, just enough to dress and down a quick breakfast, before they were due to head up on deck. “You may take the ship out, Mr. Roberts,” Granger said. He began to pace with Perkins to give Roberts room to maneuver Belvidera on his own. “So how did you come to leave Blanche?”

Perkins swallowed hard. “When we got to San Fiorenzo, sir, I had myself rowed over to Victory. I had to wait until we were busy with errands, and I was sent to pick up some supplies from the shore. On the way back, I boarded the Victory and pled my case to Sir John.”

Granger could see Jervis’ frustrated expression as he heard of this devilment aboard one of the ships under his flag. “I hope Sir John treated you fairly.”

“I was so scared I was shaking, and I could barely stammer out my story, but he was incredibly kind and sympathetic, sir. I never expected a reaction like that from him.” Granger nodded, giving Jervis silent kudos for being incredibly fair. “He ordered me to remain aboard, and then sent an officer over to question Captain Sawyer, and some other officers to question the others.”

“They didn’t hesitate to serve Sawyer up?” Granger asked. He knew his own crew would be more loyal to him than that.

“No, sir. He was pretty unpopular with them. There were several ship’s boys and a couple of midshipmen who expressed similar experiences. A few even had scars from being branded or whipped. The court martial happened two days later, and that’s when they found Captain Sawyer guilty.”

“What was his punishment?”

“I don’t know, sir. As soon as the trial was over, Sir John had me sent to Captain. I took passage aboard a victualing ship headed to Bastia.”

“You took quite a few risks. That was very brave of you,” Granger said.

Perkins grinned at him. “Thank you, sir.” Granger felt Belvidera begin to move. He’d been so absorbed in his conversation with Perkins he’d been oblivious to the fact that Roberts had managed to raise the anchor and set the topsails. Granger stood by the rail with Perkins and Roberts, watching their progress.

“Mr. Brookstone, make Belvidera to Commodore, permission to proceed,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Brookstone said. In no time at all, flags soared up Belvidera’s main mast.

“Commodore to Belvidera, sir. Permission granted,” Brookstone said.

“Sir, it looks as if a boat from Captain is moving to intercept us,” Clifton called.

“That is expected, Mr. Clifton. We will be receiving our orders in exchange for Mr. Perkins.”

“That’s a poor trade, sir, begging your pardon,” Roberts said as he smiled at Perkins. “Mr. Perkins was most helpful yesterday.”

“Thank you, sir,” Perkins said, blushing.

“I enjoyed our time together,” Granger said to Perkins. “Please convey my warmest wishes to your grandfather.” Granger said that more for the benefit of the other officers than for Perkins. His other officers would hopefully think he was being politically astute for fostering connections with Perkins’ powerful grandfather.

Belvidera slid into Naples harbor, having made a very fast passage. The wind had blown as if it were designed to match Belvidera’s best point of sailing. Granger watched the port grow larger as his ship progressed, and watched the Italian pilot direct their progress in a careless manner that made him nervous. The man had been none-too-polite when he’d come aboard, and his manner hadn’t changed at all despite Granger’s attempts to the contrary. The boats in the harbor avoided them, and although that would change when they had anchored, Granger was getting the distinct impression that his presence here was not welcome.

“Anchor there,” the pilot said in his guttural French. Granger gave orders to direct Belvidera to that spot, or as near to it as possible, and then Belvidera dropped her anchor, coming to rest yet again.

“Boat’s requesting permission to come alongside, sir,” Clifton said. “Says he has a message for you.”

“Very well,” Granger said. He turned to bid the pilot farewell in a wasted effort to be polite, and then turned to find himself facing a young Italian man dressed in the livery of the embassy.

“I bring you a message, Sir George,” the young man said in accented English. “Sir William asks that you come to call on him.”

“With pleasure,” Granger said.

“Sir William suggests that you come with me, and that he can have you returned to the ship when your business is complete, Sir George.”

“Then that is how it will be,” Granger said. He informed Roberts of his plans, and took Villiers with him for company. It was a poor choice, as Villiers seemed nervous in such close proximity to his captain, and entranced by the city of Naples. It was a short boat ride to the jetty, and a short carriage ride to the ambassador’s residence.

He was led directly into the study of Sir William Hamilton. “Sir George, what a pleasure to see you after so many years!”

“It is a pleasure to see you as well, Sir William,” Granger said.

“If I recall, you were last here as Hood’s flag lieutenant, fresh out from England and from arranging a spectacular marriage,” Sir William said. “And I believe we had just found out you were to be a father.”

“Your memory is excellent, Sir William. It was here, with Commodore Nelson, that I first heard the news. That is why my son bears the names William Horatio.”

“That is quite an honor you have done me,” Sir William responded.

“And how is your good lady, sir?” Granger asked.

“She is fine, as you will see for yourself shortly.”

“I am ordered to bring Lord Calverton back to England, or at least as far as Gibraltar, Sir William,” Granger said, shifting to business.

“I fear that will be most difficult for you to do, since he has already embarked for England by way of the Continent,” Sir William said. “He was none too happy about his recall, so he opted to go home through Germany.”

“Surely that’s not safe, is it?” Granger asked. “He would be walking into the middle of a war, sir.”

Sir William laughed. “For someone of Calverton’s means and lineage, travel on land is not a problem. Not even the French are cads enough to arrest a gentleman traveler.”

“Then, begging your pardon, sir, I must leave at once for Gibraltar,” Granger said, anxious to be on his way.

“Not so fast,” Sir William said. “You have not changed a bit. You are as restless as Nelson.”

“What would you have me do, Sir William?” Granger asked. He could not imagine what else would detain him.

“You have an alternate passenger, someone who will convey my dispatches and also reports that are too confidential to confine to paper. I expect he will be joining us shortly.”

Granger stared at him, wondering at this new development, when a knock at the door heralded a servant, and then a tall man in a red army uniform. Sir William smiled. “Allow me to present you to Brigadier Lord Chartley.”

Granger knew Chartley well. He’d been a friend of Bertie’s, one of the only friends Bertie had that were respectable enough to be received at Bridgemont House. Chartley had always been nice to Granger, the kind of young man who takes the time to pay attention to an admiring adolescent. “I am surprised to find you out here after all these years!” Granger blurted out.

“That is hardly the way to address a superior officer, I should think, Sir George,” Chartley said formally.

Granger stood there abashed for only a second, stunned at this change from Chartley’s friendly demeanor of old, and angered at himself for his breach of manners. “I must beg your pardon, my lord. It has been so long since I have seen you; I seem to have reverted to my childhood. I hope you will forgive me?”

“Of course,” Chartley said dismissively. “You are to convey me to England, I understand.”

“Yes, my lord, although my orders are to convey you to Gibraltar. I am unclear if I am to be the one fortunate enough to carry Your Lordship all the way to England.”

“I guess that will have to do, then,” Chartley said. His tone was irritating, and Granger found himself losing patience with this man. He really thought Chartley could be a little nicer.

“We will endeavor to make you as comfortable as possible, my lord,” Granger said.

“I am less worried about comfort than speed,” Chartley quipped.

“I can assure you that there are few ships that are as fast as Belvidera with a fair wind, my lord.”

“And with you as a passenger, Chartley, I’m sure Granger will be motivated to land you at Gibraltar as quickly as possible,” Sir William said with a chuckle.

“I am merely trying to discharge my duty, Sir William,” Chartley said.

“And you do it with all the grace of a barrister,” Sir William responded.

Granger sensed that Chartley was testing even Sir William’s patience, and that was a formidable achievement. “When will you be ready to sail, my lord?” Granger asked.

“I am ready this moment,” he said. Granger and Chartley both looked at Sir William.

“I will give their majesties your apologies for not calling on them,” Sir William said resignedly, referring to the king and queen of Naples.

“Then let’s be off,” Chartley said.

“Sir William, would you please convey my sincere apologies to your good lady for not calling on her?” Granger asked.

“Certainly, Sir George,” Sir William said. “I am confident that I can speak for her and forgive you on the spot.” Granger smiled internally at Chartley’s discomfort at not having thought of Lady Hamilton, and thus committing his own breach of etiquette.

Granger and Chartley set off shortly after that, with Chartley’s baggage being carried down to the jetty by the embassy staff. Granger had to admire the man for packing so lightly for one of his station. He studied this man he’d be saddled with for the next few weeks, or maybe longer depending on the winds. He had been probably the handsomest of Bertie’s friends, and that hadn’t changed at all. He was tall, almost six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a body that looked fit and taut. As one would expect from an officer in the Royal Army, Chartley was well turned out. He had light brown hair that had streaks of blond. That had always amazed Granger, since the streaks seemed to be there even in the depths of winter when Chartley had seen no sun. He had a prominent, straight nose, chiseled features, a square jaw, and piercing green eyes that were more of an olive color.

Chartley was well connected too, and was known to be a friend of the Prince of Wales. He was received in all of the best circles. His father was the Earl of Leicester, and his grandfather was the Marquess Townshend. Granger almost sighed when he thought of that. This difficult man not only outranked him militarily, but also was at least on a par with him socially. It would be an interesting voyage to Gibraltar.