St. Vincent - 19. Chapter 19

December 27, 1796

“Let go!” Granger ordered. Belvidera’s anchor splashed into Porto Ferrajo’s bay, signifying that they had reached the end of their journey. Men swarmed up the rigging to take in the sails, while those ashore eyed this new arrival.

“I would appreciate the loan of your gig, Captain,” Nelson said formally. He was clearly irritated that no delegation had arrived to greet him.

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” Granger said. “Mr. Clifton, please have my gig prepared.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said.

“There’s a lot of shipping here, sir,” Granger said. He hadn’t expected there to be so many ships. “I count twelve transports and two store ships.”

“Now you can see why Sir John was anxious for us to escort these ships back,” Nelson said. “We are to have some more frigates to help us out, if Sir John sees fit to release them.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said, although he was unaware of that until now. More ships? He wondered if Nelson would shift his flag to a different vessel. As much as he missed having his cabin at his disposal, and as much as he found it difficult to live under a microscope with his commodore on board, Granger knew that he would be disappointed if Nelson chose a different ship. First of all, it would be seen by the crew as a slap in the face, as if they didn’t do their utmost, and secondly, Granger liked being at the center of things, and of knowing what was going on.

“Perhaps you can be rid of me for the voyage back,” Nelson said, grinning.

“I fear that would disappoint all of us, sir,” Granger said honestly. “The men like having you aboard.”

“Now that is as high a compliment as I am likely to receive,” Nelson noted. “I think you should accompany me when I go ashore to meet with the governor.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. “If you will excuse me, I will get ready.” Granger dashed below and hurriedly put on his best uniform, damning himself for not seeing this coming, for anticipating that Nelson would want his company.

He arrived on deck in time to keep Nelson from fuming at the delay, and then they boarded his gig for the brief ride to the jetty. “It’s a lovely port, sir,” Granger said, making idle conversation.

“It is. The fort is an imposing edifice,” Nelson responded, but did not seem in the mood to chat, so Granger left him in peace. They arrived at the jetty to find a subaltern holding a pair of horses.

“Welcome, sir,” the subaltern said. “I’ve brought horses to take you to the Governor’s residence.”

“Thank you,” Nelson said, as he mounted one horse. Granger mounted the other, while the subaltern retrieved his own and led them up the narrow streets to meet with the Governor. “Not exactly an overwhelming reception,” he said, sotto voce, to Granger.

“I could have brought our band ashore, sir,” Granger joked.

“They didn’t bring enough horses for them,” Nelson quipped back, making Granger giggle. They arrived at the impressive house after a very brief ride, dismounted, and then Nelson strode in confidently, followed by Granger and the subaltern.

“Welcome, sir,” an army officer said. “I’m Major Greeves. If you will follow me, I will take you to meet the general.”

Greeves led them into a capacious room, and at the end of it, a man stood rigidly, as if he had a ramrod attached to his spine. He was old, with wispy white hair that was pomaded into order. His uniform was as you would expect an English general’s uniform to be: red, perfectly cleaned and pressed, and sparkling from all the gold lace.

“General DeBurgh,” Nelson said warmly as he stepped forward to greet the man.

“Welcome to Elba, Commodore,” DeBurgh said formally.

“Allow me to present Sir George Granger, of His Majesty’s frigate Belvidera,” Nelson said. Granger bowed, while the General merely nodded with disinterest.

“Have you brought the reinforcements I requested?” DeBurgh demanded. His cold and assertive manner surprised both Nelson and Granger.

“On the contrary, General,” Nelson said. “I have come to evacuate you and your troops, along with the naval establishment on this island.”

“Evacuate? You can’t be serious!”

“The fleet has left the Mediterranean,” Nelson said evenly. “With no fleet here, we have no need of a base. Further, it is only a matter of time before the French mass a force to invade.”

“We are ready for a siege. It will cost them too much, too dearly. They will never take this island!”

Nelson glanced at Granger, the two of them sharing their frustration with a simple look. “General, these decisions have been made at a much higher level than you or I occupy. I have orders for you, directing you to quit Elba.” He handed DeBurgh a packet of papers.

DeBurgh looked at the orders, then tossed them on the table dismissively. “These are orders from Sir John Jervis,” DeBurgh sputtered. “Does this look like a blue uniform to you? I take my orders from London, from the Army.”

“You would presume to contradict the orders of the officer commanding in this theater, simply because his uniform is a different color than yours?” Nelson asked, his patience clearly at an end.

“You would presume to give me a directive when you have no authority to do so?” DeBurgh demanded.

“General, can you not see that the situation is hopeless?” Granger asked, trying to intercede and save the day. “You and your men will be sacrificed for nothing.”

“Commodore, please explain to this captain that if I want his opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

Granger burned with fury. He also addressed Nelson. “Sir, with all due respect, if the general is captured, based on our conversation, I am concerned that no one in London will work for his release.” The three men just glared at each other.

Nelson paced about for a bit, then turned back to speak to DeBurgh. “General, you may remain on Elba. I am not authorized to force you to leave.”

“Excellent!” he said, his response dripping with sarcasm.

“I am going to evacuate the naval establishment here, and take all the stores accumulated for their purposes with us.”

“You can’t do that!” he screeched.

“As you so aptly pointed out, they are naval personnel and naval stores, and they have nothing to do with you, and most certainly do not fall under your jurisdiction.” They said nothing, all three men glaring at each other yet again.

“If you wish to abandon us, go ahead,” DeBurgh said sourly.

“At this moment, General, taking my leave of you is my most sincere hope,” Nelson said. With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, followed by Granger. “I was relying on your diplomatic skills,” he said as soon as they were out of the house.

“I fear they were lacking in the face of such extreme ignorance, sir,” Granger replied.

“I hardly think telling the general that everyone in London would let him rot in a French prison because he is a total ass is even remotely polite, Granger.”

“I suppose not, sir,” Granger said, but couldn’t stop grinning. “Even if it is true.”

Nelson smiled back at him, and then they both laughed as they rode the horses down to the dockyard. There they met with the naval personnel, a captain and his lieutenant. They understood the picture quite clearly, and were more than amenable to an evacuation.

December 30, 1796

“Belay there!” Granger shouted to the men heaving on the lines. “Mr. Clifton, you’ll have to clear away that block before we lift it further!” Clifton scrambled to get that done, clearly irritated with himself for having missed it in the first place.

“It’s cleared now, sir,” he said, abashed.

“Heave away men!” Granger shouted. They began to pull, and the new mainmast slowly rose into position, until it hung suspended over Belvidera like a giant spear, ready to lance through her. They lowered the mast deep into the bowels of the ship, where it would be stepped against the keel, a long and cumbersome maneuver, but by noon, it was finally done.

“I think that is a better mast than we had before, sir,” Meurice said.

“We were lucky the dockyard was well-stocked,” Granger agreed. They’d found a spar that would suit them, a main yard for a ship of the line, and for some reasonable bribes, Granger had been able to coax it from the men at the yard, along with a slightly smaller spar to replace the damaged foremast.

“I think they are just happy to hand it off to us so they don’t have to stow it on the transports, sir,” Clifton joked. That was very daring of Clifton, since Granger had been in a particularly foul mood for the past few days. He’d allowed DeBurgh’s idiocy to cast a pall over his stay here on Elba.

Granger allowed himself a smile. “It is just as well. I think all the cordage we acquired was as valuable a gift as the spars.”

“Deck there!” a lookout cried. “Ship rounding the point! Looks to be Blanche, sir!”

“About time she showed up,” Clifton said to Meurice, and then looked guiltily at Granger.

“We do not know what her story is, Mr. Clifton,” Granger said evenly, although it was hard not to share Clifton’s irritation. Blanche could have made a big difference in their battle, and if she had been there, it is possible they’d have been able to escape with Sabina. Clifton knew that, his whole crew knew that, and that fueled their latent resentment toward Blanche. They’d lost Roberts, Somers, and twenty of their shipmates, and they’d also lost a lot of prize money by losing Sabina. “Let us not pre-judge Captain Preston.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton agreed reluctantly.

“I’ll be below,” Granger said. He went down to his cabin and found Winkler fluttering around, still getting things back in order. Nelson had moved ashore, both to have more room and to be closer to the naval establishment they were evacuating, and Stuart and his officers had moved ashore as well. “You’re hard at work,” Granger observed jovially.

“Yes, sir,” Winkler said. “It is my normal lot in life.”

“Perhaps now that the chartroom is available, you will not be so difficult to deal with,” Granger teased.

“I suspect that is only temporary, sir,” Winkler observed sadly. “When we quit this place, we will have our passengers back with us.”

“Unless the commodore opts for a different vessel,” Granger said, letting his feelings show. He chided himself, and then relaxed. If he couldn’t trust Winkler after all this time, what was the point?

“I think he enjoyed his voyage, begging your pardon, sir. The commodore is a man of action, and he certainly got his fill of that.”

“He certainly did,” Granger agreed, smiling now.

“I’d like to think that Lefavre’s cooking and my assiduous attention to his needs may also sway his choice, sir,” Winkler said, being cheeky.

“And how assiduous were you?” Granger asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not as assiduous as the marines you caught, sir,” Winkler said.

Granger’s playful mood evaporated. “And how did you hear about that?” If Gatling had betrayed his trust, Granger would have his cute posterior whipped until it bled.

Winkler eyed him coldly, reminding Granger of the compact between them, of the total trust that existed. “It was not from Mr. Gatling, sir.”

“I understand,” Granger relented. “Here is my concern. I am worried that this will be all over the ship, and will impact discipline.”

“You mean that every man will be visiting the manger with his mate?” Winkler joked.

“Or the chartroom,” Granger teased back.

“Jeffers, uh, knew one of the marines, sir,” Winkler said. He was clearly irritated that Jeffers knew the marine well enough to have the marine take him into his confidence. Jeffers must have had a liaison with one of the men.

“I was under the impression that the two of you were a pair,” Granger observed, fishing for details.

“It’s not quite that exclusive,” Winkler groused. Then he added “sir” almost as an afterthought, and Granger almost giggled, remembering how stressed he and Gatling had been to make that same omission.

“Yet you will not allow me to sample his wares again?” Granger teased, trying to lighten up the moment.

“You are usually too busy to need sampling, sir,” Winkler joked back. He knew that his captain would not do that to him; there was no threat there.

“So tell me of the conversation with the marines,” Granger said.

“They were both worried that at any moment you’d have them arrested. Jeffers assured them that if you’d wanted to do that, you’d have done it when you caught them. He told them that you obviously wanted to overlook the whole situation, sir, but told them to be more discreet.”

“Do I need to talk to them?” Granger asked.

“No, sir,” Winkler said, then got nervous. “Mr. Gatling handled it.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, sir,” Winkler said. “He pulled them aside and told them that they were idiots for getting caught, and that if it wasn’t Christmas, they might find their necks stretched.”

“Mr. Gatling is turning into quite the fine young officer,” Granger observed. And he had such a cute little ass.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but he reminds me a bit of you when you were a midshipman.”

“Now that is something,” Granger replied, wondering what all was implied in Winkler’s statement. “Perhaps you know what is vexing him?”

Winkler got really uncomfortable then, so uncomfortable that he physically cringed. “I know, sir. I just think it would be better if he told you.”

In the past, Granger had browbeaten Winkler about loyalty, but in this situation, he could feel the conflict within Winkler. He decided to approach him more gently. “If you tell me, then perhaps I can help him to tell me. Unless it is a treasonous act, you know me well enough to not cause the lad harm.”

“And you are fond of him, sir,” Winkler said.

“Yes.”

“He and Mr. Roberts often spent time together,” Winkler said. So that was why Roberts had sent Gatling away, and that was why Gatling was so upset about it! It was as if the pieces of the puzzle came together as suddenly as an orgasm. Gatling and Roberts were an item.

“And who knows of this liaison?” Granger asked, worried that his ship was turning into one floating orgy.

“I only know of it because I accidentally interrupted them, sir,” Winkler said, blushing now.

“Indeed?”

“I’d prefer not to go into the details, sir,” Winkler said nervously.

“I’m just wondering if you stayed to join in, or if you left discreetly,” Granger teased.

“I am a more faithful partner than some, sir,” Winkler groused.

“All men are flawed,” Granger observed sagely. “Loving them means sometimes overlooking those flaws.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but have you done that with Commander Calvert?”

That hit Granger hard. His reaction must have been obvious, because Winkler looked upset that he’d pushed into such a sensitive area. “I’m not sure.” He sighed, allowing himself that, and got up to pace the deck. “It is his lack of concern over what others see and think that creates the problems, not his liaisons with other men.”

“Let’s hope Captain Somers explained things to Lieutenant Estabrook, then,” Winkler said, amazing Granger with his broad information network.

“We can only hope,” Granger said, and tried to hide how much the mention of Somers’ name bothered him. He desperately missed his handsome marine captain. He could relax with Somers and share his thoughts, and then when the time of sharing was over, they resumed their roles as if Granger had never let his guard down. That and he missed the sexual release that Somers could provide. Just the thought of that made Granger horny, fueling his libido, which he’d managed to keep in check for quite a while now.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and heralded the arrival of Gatling. “Sir, the commodore has signaled you to report ashore immediately.”

“Very well,” Granger said. He wasn’t surprised, but he was interested to hear Preston’s tale. “You will accompany me. Tell Mr. Clifton to ready my gig. Winkler, I’ll need to get into my best uniform.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said, almost in unison.

Winkler helped him get ready, and did so quite quickly. Everyone knew how much Nelson hated delays. Granger arrived on deck to find Gatling turned out in his best uniform as well, and couldn’t help but admire how handsome the young man looked. “We will be ashore,” Granger said to Clifton, then followed Gatling down into his gig. A nod to Jeffers was all it took to set the gig in motion.

Granger said nothing for the first part of their boat trip, using this opportunity to look back at Belvidera. Clifton was working diligently to get the standing rigging in place. In another day or two, Belvidera would be like new. He glanced over at his midshipman, who sat stoically next to him. “You appear to be growing out of your uniforms, Mr. Gatling.”

“Yes sir,” he said nervously. “I’m sorry sir. I’ll try to get new ones at the next opportunity.”

“It is nothing to be sorry about. I will see if we can’t find some time while we are here to attend to that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gatling said. They hooked onto the pier and Granger got out with Gatling, and strode confidently toward the house Nelson had commandeered. It was close enough that no horses were required for the journey. They arrived to find Lockyer, Nelson’s midshipman, waiting for them.

“The commodore is expecting you, sir,” he said, clearly making sure Granger knew not to take Gatling in with him.

“Excellent. Mr. Lockyer, Mr. Gatling needs to find a tailor to acquire a few things for himself, and for me. Perhaps your duties will allow you to help him find someone suitable?”

Lockyer smiled. Granger had just let him and Gatling loose on the town. “Yes, sir. Perhaps you can inform the commodore that I am doing that?”

“I will,” Granger said, and then turned to Gatling. “Send to the ship for my measurements. Winkler will get them for you. I need some new shirts and stockings. You can put that, and whatever you select, on my account.”

“Sir…” Gatling made to object.

“Do not argue,” Granger said firmly, then left them both and strode into Nelson’s office.

“Ah, Granger,” Nelson said affably. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger replied. “It is good to see you, Captain,” he said to Preston.

“Good to see you as well, Sir George,” Preston responded warily.

“Captain Preston was just explaining his actions to me. I thought you may want to hear them as well.”

“I am obliged to both of you, sir,” Granger said, and turned his attention to Preston.

“Shortly after you engaged the Sabina, we engaged the Ceres,” Preston said.

“Not the Matilde?” Granger asked.

“No. We fought a short battle with Ceres, pouring about ten broadsides into her, and compelled her to surrender,” Preston said. “We were going to take possession of her when two other frigates loomed into sight. As they were within range, we maneuvered away from Ceres to try and find Belvidera, but since the other two frigates didn’t close, and since Ceres had gotten under sail again, we moved to re-engage her. She was faster than us, though, and managed to escape.”

So Preston had had his own drama. “You did quite well, to vanquish a larger frigate so quickly,” Granger said encouragingly.

“Thank you, Sir George,” Preston said. “We found ourselves driven to the windward by the Dons, so that when dawn broke, we were too far away to assist you. I am sorry.”

“I fear that the end result would have been the same,” Nelson said. “With the Principe de Asturias there, the odds were overwhelming. In any event, you have found your way here.”

“Yes, sir,” Preston said.

“I will note your gallant action in my report,” Nelson said, pronouncing positive judgment on Blanche’s actions.

“Thank you, sir,” Preston said.

“You will remain here in port and help us get organized to depart. Granger, I have a mission for you. I want you to take our captured Don prisoners to Cartagena under a flag of truce, and then return here when you are done. If you will remain, I will give you the details.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. Preston took his leave of them.

“I am not clear why Preston did not manage to work his way back to us, but I think it is not worth making an issue of,” Nelson observed.

“Yes, sir,” Granger agreed. He’d been thinking the same thing, but no good would come of pointing that out.

“How long until you are ready to sail?” Nelson asked.

“I would prefer two more days, sir,” Granger said nervously.

“That is fast work,” Nelson said with a smile. “I could send Blanche, but you know the Dons, and you’re likely to get a better reception.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger agreed. He could see that logic.

“That and you are not General DeBurgh’s favorite person,” Nelson joked.

“I should think not, sir,” Granger said, smiling, then remembered he had to inform Nelson that he’d sent Lockyer off. “Incidentally, I asked Mr. Lockyer to help Mr. Gatling run some errands for me. I hope that was alright?”

“We will try to manage without him. I will send your orders over to you. Signal me when you are ready to depart.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, and recognizing he’d been dismissed, he made his way back to the pier and to his gig. He was so deep in thought he was almost surprised when they arrived back at the ship.

He found Clifton waiting for him, just as a good first lieutenant should. “Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Clifton. We are to leave this place in two days.”

Clifton looked around, panicked at first, but then he calmed himself down and assessed the situation rationally. “We’ll be ready, sir.”

“Of that, I am sure,” Granger said, smiling. “We are to take our Don prisoners to Cartagena and do a little spying while we are there.”

“Good thing we replenished our powder and shot, then, sir,” Clifton joked. Granger allowed himself to laugh at that.

“Well, we’re not on a belligerent mission, per se, but we will keep our eyes open.” Granger looked around at the ship, at all the parties working on various things, and felt as if he’d been remiss in his duties by not being aboard and helping out. “I will go below and change clothes, and then see if I can be of some assistance.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said, and threw himself back into the work of refitting Belvidera.

Granger breezed into his cabin, focused only on getting ready to work, when he found a very worried Winkler waiting for him. “I need to change into my work clothes,” Granger said.

“Yes, sir,” Winkler said. “There’s a matter I need to broach with you, sir.”

“Can it wait?” Granger asked. He urgently wanted to go back up on deck and get his ship ready to sail.

“I’m afraid not, sir. This was given to me by someone whom I cannot identify. It is a letter that Mr. Ramsey was writing.”

“Writing? You mean he has not sent it yet?” Granger asked. It could have been a copy.

“Not that I can tell. Begging your pardon, sir, but he’s ashore now. If he returns and finds it missing, and your intentions were otherwise…”

“You’re telling me to hurry,” Granger interpreted. He sighed and began to read the letter, his eyes getting bigger and bigger as he did. One paragraph in particular cut him to the core:

I have not yet been able to seduce the good captain, although it is not for lack of trying. He seems to be interested, but I am not sure if that is due to months at sea or a general preference for men. There have been two encounters that were close, and which I felt in my heart could have led to our mutual ecstasy, mine in experiencing such an impressive man as a lover, and you at having irrefutable proof as to where his preferences lie. Alas, they came to naught. Rest assured that I am making progress.

Granger stared at the beginning of the letter, at to whom Ramsey was writing. The letter was addressed to his sister-in-law.