St. Vincent - 12. Chapter 12

December, 1796

Granger knocked gently then entered Chartley’s cabin. Chartley was on his back, as he had been, snoring softly as he slept. In the time since the battle, Chartley had made incredible progress. His wound was now stitched up and bandaged, and he had regained a lot of his strength. Granger stood there, watching him, taking in his magnificent form. Chartley stretched and moved a bit as he slept, and that caused the blanket to fall off of him, exposing his entire body.

Granger walked up and looked down at Chartley’s naked body, focusing his attention on the man’s groin. He’d seen Chartley’s amazing chest and abdomen, his strong arms, and his well-formed legs, but this was undiscovered territory. His dick was plump, not hard, but even then it seemed quite big. It flopped over two big testicles, and that they were big seemed appropriate for such a masculine man as Chartley.

“I fear you have found me in an indecent state,” Chartley said playfully. Granger jumped, startled at being discovered staring at Chartley’s dick. He quickly retrieved the blanket and covered Chartley back up.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Granger said. “In any event, I would hardly call you indecent,” he said, overcoming his embarrassment at being caught staring. He sat next to Chartley and took his hand. They had become comfortable with each other. There was something about this man that had charmed Granger, and he found that he spent most of his free time with Chartley.

“Yet you covered me up quickly enough.”

“Can’t have you scaring Brookstone,” Granger joked. The midshipman was here as often as Granger was.

“He doesn’t lust after me like you do.” Granger laughed. Chartley was so much like Bertie.

“I think you mistake disdain for lust,” Granger poked back. “You clearly have not recovered.”

“So you think Brookstone is lusting after me?”

“I think Brookstone is too busy worshipping the ground you walk on,” Granger noted.

“I am not deserving of that kind of adulation.”

“I think that it is the proper demeanor for a young man to adopt when someone fearlessly takes a wound to save his life,” Granger said.

“Bah,” Chartley said dismissively.

“So what awaits you in London?” Granger asked.

“You mean since it appears that I will live to see it? I am not sure. Bertie chose to go to the Indies to redeem himself, while I was sent there by my father. I am not sure what kind of reception he will give me, but it should be favorable since I am now a wealthy man in my own right.”

“I think you should take a seat in Parliament,” Granger suggested. “With your charm and élan, you will be Prime Minister in no time at all.”

“And here I thought we were friends, and you would condemn me to that pit of vipers?”

Granger chuckled. “I suspect that those who are not your friend would consider you a viper as well.”

A knock on the door interrupted their amusing interchange and heralded the arrival of Dr. Jackson. “Good morning my lord, sir,” he said to Chartley and Granger.

“Good morning Doctor,” Chartley said cheerfully.

“Let us take a look at your wound, my lord,” Jackson said. He seemed to think that he had interrupted something, and wanted to be quick about his work. Granger watched him unwrap the wound. Right now it was a jagged seam, but it would heal into an uneven scar, and then hopefully that would fade over time. Granger fancied that when that happened, it would make Chartley’s chest even sexier than before. “You appear to be healing quite well, much better than I had hoped.”

“I am in quite capable hands,” Chartley said. “How did you lure this genius to sea?” he asked Granger.

“The good doctor’s misfortune was most assuredly our gain,” Granger joked. “I am not sure whether it was gambling, carousing, or women that convinced Dr. Jackson to join us.”

“I fear it was all three of those,” Jackson said, smiling.

“Then we have yet one more thing in common,” Chartley said. Granger cringed a bit at that, at the reference to women. It occurred to him that he was jealous of these unknown whores, and that told him a lot about how advanced his feelings for Chartley had become. Jackson took his leave, then, and left them alone.

“So were you a rogue like Bertie?” Granger asked Chartley.

“I suspect that is a fair description, although our debauchery was a bit different. Bertie’s biggest vice has been women, while mine has been gambling. His time in the East has allowed him to indulge in his passion, while I have learned to avoid mine.”

“Yet you crave the games still?”

Chartley sighed. “I think of sitting about, playing cards or dice, and it holds little appeal. I think I have become so focused on making money, and that is much more of a gamble, that playing at it seems like a waste.”

“So the real world, with its business deals and backroom intrigues, is more alluring than the tables?” Granger teased.

“It is.”

They sat there, with Granger holding Chartley’s hand in an affectionate manner, as he had so many nights before, only this time Chartley stroked his hand back. “We should arrive in Gibraltar soon,” Granger announced, broaching a new subject.

“Will you take me to England?” Chartley asked.

“I am not sure that I can do that without orders, but we will see. If I cannot, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you get there as fast as possible.” Granger didn’t think that Jervis would appreciate losing a frigate at a time like this, when the evacuation of the Mediterranean was in full process.

“I will have to trust you,” Chartley said. “I do, you know.”

“You should,” Granger said. He smiled, and then left the cabin to go on deck and check on their progress.

The day had passed; an uneventful day with unremarkable weather, and Granger had dined in Chartley’s cabin with him, helping Chartley eat. His appetite had improved along with his health. Granger lay in his cot, thinking about this handsome peer that had so captivated him. He was dozing, listening to the creaking as Belvidera worked in the gentle seas, when he heard some commotion from Chartley’s cabin. Despite the fact that he was only wearing trousers, he jumped out of bed and hurried next door.

He found Winkler there with Chartley, who was thrashing around on his cot. Granger rushed over and looked down at him, at his crazed eyes, and grabbed his head between his two palms. His skin was hot, as if he were on fire. “You must be still,” Granger said authoritatively, but it got no results.

“Mr. Brookstone found him like that, and asked me to stay with him while he went to fetch the doctor, sir,” Winkler said. “He’s got quite a fever working.”

“He does,” Granger agreed. Jackson arrived, looking unkempt and disheveled, just as someone would expect him to appear after being rousted out of bed in the middle of the night. Granger helped to restrain Chartley while Jackson examined him. He looked at Chartley’s eyes, listened to his chest, and otherwise inspected his body. He stood there then, thinking, and seemed to come to a conclusion. “What is it?” Granger asked.

“He has a fever,” Jackson said, stating the obvious. “I do not know for sure, but I think it is a tropical illness, sir.”

“What kind of illness?” Granger asked.

“This looks much like the fever some of our men came down with on our voyage to India, sir.”

“What must we do for him?” Granger asked, forcing himself to sound unconcerned.

“We must keep him still, and warm, and let the ill humors work their way out of his body,” Jackson said. “Someone should be with him at all times.”

“I will stay with him tonight,” Granger decreed. “We can find others to watch him after that.”

“Yes sir,” Jackson said. He took one last look at Chartley, then left.

“It’s not fair, begging your pardon, sir,” Winkler observed. “His lordship was doing so well.”

“We will have to hope that this is just a minor setback.”

“I’ll be in the chartroom if you need me, sir,” Winkler said as he looked down at Chartley.

For three days they’d watched Chartley fight this latest ailment. He’d thrashed around so much he’d reopened his wound, yet another source of concern, but the main cause of their anxiety was the fever that showed no sign of relenting. Granger paced up and down on the deck, feeling the fatigue trying to overwhelm him. That fatigue was exacerbated by the weather, which had turned bitterly cold. Granger pulled his jacket close around his body, trying to deny the wind access to any spot of his bare skin.

He’d spent most of his time with Chartley, alternating primarily with Brookstone and Winkler. It was unrewarding and stressful, as Chartley had been largely unresponsive. He went through periods of extreme weakness and listlessness, punctuated by the occasional outburst of thrashing about.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but how is his lordship?” Roberts asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“His fever shows no sign of abating, and that is our biggest worry at this point,” Granger said sadly.

“Dashed bad luck, sir,” Roberts observed. It sounded trite, but there was not much more to say. “We should reach Gibraltar the day after tomorrow.” They both looked at the horizon, where it seemed the sun was being swallowed by the sea as this day ended and the night began.

“If the wind holds,” Granger agreed. “I am going below. Call me if I am needed.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said efficiently.

Granger went straight to Chartley’s cabin, where he found Winkler sitting there, keeping an eye on their sick passenger. “I’ll take over, Winkler,” Granger said.

“Sir, begging your pardon, but won’t you let me? You look exhausted.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m exhausted,” Granger snapped. That sharp rejoinder told both of them how right Winkler was.

“Yes sir,” Winkler said. “At least let me get you into some dry clothes first.”

“If you say so,” Granger agreed, trying to be pleasant to make up for being so short. Winkler helped him into his trousers and got him a dry shirt, then wrapped a blanket around him.

“Just call if you need me, sir,” Winkler said, as he left them alone.

Granger sat next to Chartley and held his hand. He was still hot, still feverish, only now there was something new to worry about: his teeth were chattering. How did one warm up a man who was already practically on fire? Granger was pondering this dilemma when his own teeth started chattering. Inspired, he went into his main cabin and found Winkler. “Tell the guard that neither I nor Lord Chartley is to be disturbed.”

Winkler looked at him curiously, and then shrugged. “Aye aye, sir.” Granger returned to the cabin and put his own blanket over Chartley, then pulled off his trousers and shirt. He pulled back the blankets and gently climbed in the cot, laying his own body over Chartley’s while staying to the side of him, avoiding his wound.

Granger felt Chartley’s warmth, the fire of his body, letting it warm his own frozen skin. He hoped he wouldn’t make Chartley even colder. His head was on Chartley’s chest, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the human smell of this man he’d come to care for. That was a mistake, because the aroma, the pheromones, fired a desire in Granger he hadn’t quite foreseen. He moved his hips back to avoid stabbing Chartley with his erection. Surprisingly enough, Granger’s presence seemed to heat both of them up, and shortly after he invaded Chartley’s bed, their teeth chattering stopped.

“You’re here,” Chartley wheezed, shocking Granger. The man hadn’t said a word since he’d been afflicted with this fever.

“I hope this is alright,” Granger said nervously. “I should leave you.” He made to get up, but Chartley stopped him with his words.

“Please stay.”

“You’re sure?” Granger asked. “You seemed so cold, and I didn’t know what else to do. This seemed to be the best solution.”

“It was a good choice,” he said. The conversation seemed to weaken him, but he had the energy to run his hand up and down Granger’s back, pulling him closer to him.

“I think so too,” Granger said. Chartley’s nipple was in front of him, and he impulsively leaned in and kissed it.

“Mmmm,” Chartley cooed contentedly. Then they both drifted off to sleep.

Granger hadn’t realized how right Winkler was, and how exhausted he’d been. The combined responsibilities of commanding a ship and taking care of an ailing peer had sapped his energy reserves. But sleeping with Chartley, he found a level of peace and calm that he hadn’t experienced for some time. He had immersed himself in slumber, letting himself sleep more deeply than he had in some time. Still, his instincts, the instincts of a captain, asserted themselves and pulled him from that blissful sleep when it was still dark outside.

Granger found himself sprawled across Chartley, although how he’d managed to do that without intruding upon the area of his wound was truly a stroke of luck. Granger was at first embarrassed that his morning erection was jabbing into Chartley’s leg, but that faded when he felt Chartley’s own erection against his inner thigh. Granger lay still, trying to evaluate the size and circumference of Chartley’s organ merely by the feeling in his thigh. Granger remembered how it had looked when it was limp, and now that it was erect, his curiosity overwhelmed him. He felt Chartley thrust up gently into his thigh in an effort to create friction, and pleasure. Granger pulled his thigh back and heard Chartley sigh, but this time with disappointment.

Emboldened, Granger ran his hand up Chartley’s leg, gently caressing it as he did. He felt the abundant hair on his leg, and even on his thigh, as he moved closer and closer to the prize he sought. When he got to Chartley’s big balls, he stopped to gently fondle them, and got another sigh, but this one was a happy sigh. He traced the base of Chartley’s cock with his finger tips, and then wrapped his hand loosely around it, running his hand up and down slowly.

Chartley’s cock reminded him of Cavendish, both thick and long, and normally that would have made Granger recoil as he remembered his other lover, but he was too taken with Chartley to really think too long about anyone else. He kept up his slow and gentle strokes, savoring the moans that came from Chartley’s mouth.

“If I am dreaming, do not wake me up,” Chartley said. Granger suddenly became aware of what he was doing, and the enormity of his action. He’d climbed into bed with a sick man and was caught giving him a hand job. He removed his hand and began to move away. “No, please don’t stop,” Chartley begged.

“I’m sorry,” Granger said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Do I look unhappy?” Chartley said. He was still weak, but he reached up and grabbed Granger’s hair with his hand in an authoritative way and pulled his face close to his own. “I want you, I want this so bad,” he said, and then pulled Granger in closer until their lips met.

The kiss was tentative at first, as both men experimented with their lips, until the passion they’d repressed began to be released. Now their kiss was animated, and it became even more passionate as Granger felt Chartley’s tongue probing his lips, demanding entry into Granger’s mouth, entry which Granger readily granted. Granger moved his hand back to Chartley’s cock, and began to stroke him with a purpose, but he wanted more.

He broke off the kiss and moved down Chartley’s body, letting his mouth lead the way by kissing the exposed skin that didn’t have a bandage wrapped around it. It seemed to Granger that it took forever for him to reach his goal, although that was just his perception, until he finally found his mouth level with Chartley’s cock. He flicked his tongue out to lick the tip, tasting the pre-cum that had begun to ooze out, courtesy of Granger’s ministration. He moved forward slowly, letting his lips graze over the head of Chartley’s dick, then down his shaft, taking as much of his massive organ as he could. Then he began to suck his dick, going up and down on it slowly, letting his tongue explore every crevice, every unique feature, as he did. He was oblivious to Chartley’s moaning, then to his warning, as he focused on the reward he sought. Then with a moan and a grunt, Chartley ejaculated into Granger’s mouth, blasting what seemed like a gallon of cum down Granger’s throat. As soon as Granger tasted the first shot, he bore down on Chartley’s dick, jamming the head deep into his throat so Chartley could feel his muscles contract as he swallowed his load. The spectacular orgasm seemed to last an eternity, but finally Chartley was spent.

Granger was worried at first, since Chartley lay there as if he were dead, but as he reclaimed his place next to him, he could see the huge smile on his face. “That was truly wonderful,” Chartley said.

“I’m glad you thought so. I did too.”

“When I am well, I hope you will let me return the favor.”

“I was not sure you would want to,” Granger said as he leaned in to kiss Chartley lovingly.

“I’ve wanted to for years now.”

“You were too shy to make advances?” Granger asked, being cheeky.

“You were but a boy when I last had a chance,” Chartley said, mildly irritated. “Besides, I didn’t know if you’d be game for it.”

“Well now you know,” Granger said.

“I also had to worry about your brother. I don’t think Bertie would appreciate me seducing his little brother. I fear that may cost me a duel.”

“It would seem that you are wrong,” Granger said. “If I’m not mistaken, it was I who climbed into your cot, and I who sucked your dick. So since I seduced you, Bertie has no grounds for complaint.”

“Now that you mention it,” Chartley said playfully, “I do believe you are correct. That was pretty slutty of you.”

“With you, I’m very slutty,” Granger said in a sultry voice. It made him giggle to see Chartley swallow hard to hide his lust and desire.

“A fact I am glad of,” Chartley said.

“And now I must go attend to the ship,” Granger said. He went to his own cabin and paused to jack off; the encounter with Chartley had gotten him too fired up to go straight up on deck. Then, as if he were clairvoyant, Winkler appeared to help him get ready, and to bundle him up.

He found Roberts on deck and the hands already at quarters, as was right and proper since it was dawn. “Good morning,” Granger said cheerfully.

Roberts stared at him, his mouth agape, as he digested this person in front of him. Granger had been crabby and tired of late, yet here he was, suddenly cheerful and pleasant. “Good morning, Sir George,” he finally said.

“Bit of fog,” Granger observed.

“And no wind,” Roberts said, as the sails flapped in the dying breeze.

“Land ho!” the lookout cried. “Land off the larboard bow!”

“What do you make of it?” Granger hailed through his speaking trumpet.

“It’s the Rock, sir!” came the reply.

“I’m going aloft,” Granger said to the deck in general. He climbed to the foretop, then to the foretopgallant yard, finally getting high enough to avoid the fog. There, just as the lookout said, was the Rock of Gibraltar, not more than five miles away. It was maddening to be this close, yet be becalmed once again. He pondered his options, came to a decision, and returned to deck.

“Is it the Rock, sir?” Roberts asked.

“It is indeed and no more than five miles distant,” Granger said. “I am going there by boat. Please ready the launch, with an ample crew to man the oars.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said.

“Captain Somers, perhaps you will accompany me?” Granger asked the marine. He’d be a good person to have around; someone who could think his way out of any scrape.

“It will be my pleasure, sir,” he said gallantly.

Granger went below to get his papers and reports together, then to put his appearance to right. He desperately needed a bath, but that would have to wait. Once he was dressed in his full-dress uniform, he went in to see Chartley.

“We have sighted land?” Chartley asked.

“We are off Gibraltar, but we are becalmed. I am going ashore in a boat to see what can be done to get you to London,” Granger said.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, and made to get up.

“You’re talking nonsense,” Granger said, pushing him back down. “You are not travelling about in the Mediterranean in a small boat.”

“You are giving me orders?” Chartley demanded.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Granger said, smiling. “Did you not say you trusted me?”

Chartley smiled back. “I do believe I did. I think you’re just plotting to keep me here, locked in your cabin, so you can have my way with you.”

“How would I prevent you from escaping?” Granger asked, flirting back.

“You would not have to worry about that,” Chartley said. Granger leaned in to give him a quick kiss, but Chartley grabbed his head and made it much more passionate. He chuckled when they separated, gesturing at the large tent in Granger’s breeches.

“I will return as soon as I can,” Granger said. He appeared on deck and pulled Roberts aside. “You are in command while I am gone. Do your best to get the ship into harbor as soon as you can.” There was no need to caution Roberts about tides and currents, no need to admonish him to watch out for enemy ships.

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said efficiently. Granger followed Somers into the boat.

“Jeffers, course northwest,” Granger ordered. “It will be a long pull, but if you get me there quickly, there’s an extra tot of rum for all hands.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger saw the men grinning at that, and noted that they approached their task with considerable zeal. Still, it was a long, arduous pull for them to make it to Europa Point. They were hailed from the shore, as was right and proper when a boat full of armed men was sighted. He and Somers scrambled ashore to find a surprised Lieutenant ogling them. “You may return to the ship,” Granger told Jeffers, then turned to the Lieutenant. “Sir George Granger, of His Majesty’s Ship Belvidera. This is Captain Somers. We need two horses to take us to see the Governor.”

The Lieutenant pulled himself out of his stupor and responded with his own name and title. “Welcome to Gibraltar, Sir George.” He issued orders for horses, and within five minutes, Granger and Somers were trotting down the road toward the Governor’s House. “It’s nice to be ashore again, sir,” Somers said, making polite conversation.

“It is,” Granger said. They entered the main square and Granger spotted a familiar figure, someone he did not expect to see. He was so surprised; he pulled his horse up short. There, across the square, heading toward the hotel where he usually took his bath, was Commander Francis Calvert. He was with another officer, a Marine Lieutenant. Granger forgot that Somers was with him, and just stared at them, at their demeanor and interactions. Granger knew Calvert well enough to know that this was no ordinary expedition ashore. The body language, the way the two men laughed and interacted, made it clear to Granger that the two men were lovers. He wondered if he was able to discern that because he knew Calvert so well, or because it was obvious to others.

“They appear to be quite intimate,” Somers observed drily. That answered that question, Granger thought dourly.

“That is Francis Calvert, my former first lieutenant,” Granger said. “I do not know the other man.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Somers said. “I meant no offense.”

“No offense taken, Captain. Do you think they’re attraction is obvious to others?”

“I think it is possible, sir,” Somers said. Granger sighed aloud, allowing himself that luxury, and then spurred his horse forward to go and greet Calvert and this new lover of his.