St. Vincent - 31. Chapter 31

February 16, 1797

Granger had invited Lennox to join him and his passengers for dinner, although that was shaping up to be less of a privilege and more of a burden. Granger sat at the table and studied the expressions of his guests, trying to decipher their inner moods. Sir Gilbert Elliot looked mildly amused, as if he was resigned that since there was nowhere better to be, he would make the best of it. Perhaps that was the most honest expression of the lot. Colonel Drinkwater was hard pressed to hide his frustration, since several of his attempts to strike up a conversation had failed miserably. Sir Phillip Kerry looked distracted, as if he was longing for the evening to end so he could retire to his cabin and fuck Granger senseless. Granger decided with a smile that perhaps his expression was actually the most honest. Captain Somers looked cheerful, persisting in his efforts to make the party livelier. It was typical of the man that the failure of those efforts did not diminish them.

Poor Lennox, newly rejoined with the ship, looked distracted and nervous. He took his duties as first lieutenant, temporary though they may be, quite seriously. Serving as first lieutenant on a frigate was a harrying job, with lots of details to attend to, and while Lennox had obviously appreciated Clifton’s efforts, he would be uncomfortable until he had a grasp on things himself. Granger changed his assessment, and decided that Lennox looked trapped, stuck at this dinner while his mind whirred away, thinking of all the things he wanted and needed to do. Belvidera thrashed along on her northerly course, the moderate seas creating substantial motion, further adding to the trauma of Lennox’ captivity. He would long to be on deck, ensuring that everything was secure, even though both he and Granger had made rounds to check on that already.

And then there was the reason for the relative pall over dinner: Captain Calder. He sat expressionless, eating his dinner and either saying nothing, or saying just enough to stifle a thread of conversation as soon as it had been started.

“I suspect the mob will go crazy when news of this victory gets out,” Somers said, once again trying to spark a general conversation.

“I’m surprised at the way you partitioned off the cabins, Granger,” Calder said, rudely ignoring Somers and changing the subject. It was amazing that the man had survived in the highly political world of the flagship.

“This arrangement has served us well,” Granger said simply.

“Yet you have created rabbit warrens for Sir Gilbert, yourself, and me, while we would surely be more comfortable if one of us was housed in the wardroom.”

“I am quite content with my cabin, and my surroundings,” Sir Gilbert said firmly.

“I am sorry the quarters are not as sumptuous as those in a ship of the line,” Granger said, barely hiding his sarcasm. “I can arrange for you to swap cabins with Mr. Lennox. His would be the best cabin in the wardroom.”

“I would not mind trading with you, sir,” Lennox said helpfully.

“Bah,” Calder said. What he really wanted was for Granger or Elliot to move, but that wasn’t happening.

“To answer your question, Captain Somers, I think that you are right, and that the people will be ecstatic.”

“Ecstatic, Sir George?” Drinkwater asked, clearly not believing him.

“I believe so,” Granger said. “As Sir Phillip reminded us, there has been quite a scare, a general fear that the French and Spanish fleets would combine and clear our fleet from the Channel, creating a window for a French invasion. With this victory that fear has significantly diminished.”

“But the Spanish still have 23 ships of the line, Sir George,” Elliot said.

“That is true, but what would convince them that they could succeed with 23 when they failed with 27? Their crews will certainly not be confident, and their officers will be even more pessimistic. Keep in mind that of those 23 ships, several were badly knocked about, not the least of which was their flagship.” Granger paused for effect. “The Santissima Trinidad actually struck her colors and would have been captured but for the timely arrival of a few of her consorts.”

“Based on the mood in England when I left, I think Captain Somers is correct. I think the people will be thrilled,” Sir Phillip added. As the man who had most recently been in London, his voice was the most relevant.

“Especially when they hear of Nelson’s maneuver,” Drinkwater added.

“Yes, Nelson’s maneuver,” Calder sneered. “If I’d been in command, he’d have been facing a court martial. He disobeyed orders, not only from Sir John, but the Fighting Instructions themselves!” The Fighting Instructions were an old manual, prescribing that all battles must be fought in the standard line ahead formation. Most of the younger officers in the fleet thought they were hopelessly outdated.

“Then I daresay, Captain, that if you had been Sir John, you would have at least two fewer prizes to show, and the mob would be ready to lynch you. Instead, you are travelling to London to reap the laurels of the victory which Commodore Nelson helped assure,” Sir Gilbert stated. Granger had to keep from laughing at the look on Calder’s face.

“We would have been victorious in the end, regardless,” Calder growled.

“I do not share your assessment, Captain,” Granger said. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to win the argument or if he just wanted to bait Calder, who was ruining not only his dinner but the entire atmosphere on his ship. “From my vantage point in the line, it was clear that with the shifting of the wind, the Spaniards had a relatively easy run to Cadiz. I recall thinking to myself that if something did not change, we would be lucky to be satisfied with but one or two stragglers as prizes.”

“Well from my vantage point, we were closing on them fast,” he rebutted.

“Perhaps the gunpowder had clouded your vision,” Sir Phillip offered. Calder gave them a dirty look, and then applied himself to eating again.

“I will be glad to be back in England,” Granger said, switching topics. He missed Caroline desperately, and was anxious to see his children. So much had happened, so much may have still happened, that he was filled with anxiety over the situation that would welcome him when he returned to London, but he knew that he could rely on Caroline. She would be there, stalwartly defending their interests.

“As will I,” Sir Gilbert said. “I have been away for quite some time.”

And so the conversation continued, until dinner had run its course. Granger had had his fill of all of them, and went up on deck, despite the blistering cold temperatures, to check on his ship. He found Clifton on watch. “Walk with me, Mr. Clifton,” Granger ordered.

“Of course, sir.” They began to stride up and down the quarterdeck in that time-honored fashion. They paced the length of the quarterdeck, side by side, and then turned inwardly; pivoting so they faced each other for a moment, and continued their walk back the other way.

“I want you to know how impressed I am with the way you performed your duties as first lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir,” Clifton replied.

“Were it not for your relative lack of seniority, I would be happy to have retained you in that role.”

That got a warmer response. “I understand, sir. I knew that it was only temporary, but it is difficult to have power and responsibility, then to see it stripped away again.”

“This has happened to you when Mr. Roberts returned, and now it has happened again. While you are serving in that role, you must always be fearful for your position, lest it be removed by a more senior officer joining the ship.” Granger had expounded the lieutenant’s views for him perfectly. “I know how you feel.”

“You do, sir?”

“Aye. When I was with Lord Hood at Toulon, I was given temporary command of a frigate, the Aurore.”

“The same one that was destroyed, sir?”

“The same one,” Granger answered, unable to hide the sadness that memory caused him. He fought back those memories, of the times he and Travers had spent together, and of the battles they had fought at Toulon. “I knew the command was temporary, yet it was glorious, and I still felt the sadness, the loss, when she was taken away from me.”

“Then you do understand, sir,” Clifton said, and seemed relieved.

“I do. But the situation for me, then, and the situation for you, now, is that we weren’t quite ready for our roles. I think both of us handled the actual jobs quite well, but we didn’t have the seasoning and the experience to really maintain them.” They walked on in silence while Clifton digested Granger’s statement. “I yearned for command, for the command of a frigate, and here I am, some four years later, doing just that. It will not take long for an officer of your abilities to achieve the same thing.”

“Thank you, sir,” Clifton said. “My time on this ship has been such an amazing experience. My father thinks you killed me and put a double in my place.”

Granger laughed with Clifton at that. “I fear there is only one of you, Mr. Clifton, but I for one would be most pleased if there were more. Your father will be glad to see you when we return.”

“Indeed he will, sir, and that is something that I do not think he would have said before I joined this ship. If you have time while you are in London, I am confident that he would welcome a visit from you.”

“Then I will have to make sure I call on him,” Granger said affably. Clifton’s father was the Marquess of Hartford, a powerful politician. Granger usually aligned politically with the Whigs, while his own father was a Tory. Clifton’s father was a Tory as well, and they were friends, to the degree that two men could be friends in the environment of a royal court.

Somers appeared on deck, and Clifton took his leave of Granger to tend to the ship, while Somers took his place. “And a good evening to you,” Granger said happily.

“Good evening, sir,” Somers said with his trademark grin.

“I haven’t had a chance to welcome you back aboard the ship properly,” Granger said, flirting with the handsome marine.

“I suspect you have been busy with my cousin, sir,” he said quietly. There was no bitterness in his tone, but Granger could sense it.

“Perhaps you are irritated with me for stealing him away from you for the voyage,” Granger allowed.

“No, sir. If I am irritated, it is with him for keeping me from you. Except for a few brief experiences when we were boys, Sir Phillip and I have never had that kind of relationship.”

Granger stared at him, shocked. It was inconceivable that these two handsome men who were both members of the Brotherhood would not have at least a peripheral sexual relationship. “That surprises me.”

“He’s never shown much interest in me, sir.” It was clear from his comment that Somers was interested in him.

“Do you know why?”

Somers sighed. “Sir Phillip assumed the baronetcy when he was young, and that put him in a position of power in our family, as the patriarch. Even though my father is still alive, Sir Phillip assumed that role. He takes his responsibilities very seriously.”

“So he sees you as a son?”

“I’m not sure if it’s quite that incestuous,” Somers joked, relaxing again, “but probably something along those lines.”

“I had envisioned an encounter with the three of us,” Granger said, pretending to tease, even though he certainly had fantasized about it.

Somers grinned. “For the record, I would be a willing participant.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Granger said. “I think I will go below.” He left the deck to Clifton and returned to his cabin. He found Kerry there in ‘his’ cot, the one that was empty most of the time.

“Welcome back,” Kerry said, pulling the blanket down a bit to expose his chest with its dark red hair.

Granger sat next to him on the cot, then leaned in and kissed him. “I wanted to bring Somers back with me.”

Kerry froze up and looked disturbed. “I can give you some privacy if you’d like.”

“That’s not what I had in mind,” Granger said, winking at him.

Kerry smiled nervously. “What did you have in mind?”

“I envision myself in between two of the most handsome men on the planet,” Granger said softly into Kerry’s ear.

“You do, eh?”

“I do,” Granger affirmed. “But only if you’re willing.”

“I’m willing,” Kerry said, but Granger could sense his apprehension. It was one of those times when he would have to roll the die and leave it to chance, since this could go either really well, or really badly.

“Pass the word for Captain Somers,” Granger said to Winkler, who was outside his cabin. “Then see that we are not disturbed.”

“Aye aye sir,” Winkler said, smirking. Granger began to strip off his uniform, taking care not to mess it up, while leaving it handy in case he was needed. By the time Somers arrived, he was almost completely naked, naked and shivering in the cold cabin.

“You sent for me, sir?” Somers asked, swallowing with lust at the sight of Granger’s smooth body.

“I want you to help me fulfill a fantasy,” Granger said, drawing him closer to the two of them. “I want to be inside of Phillip, while you enter me.” Somers pants were tenting visibly.

“And you’re up for this?” Somers asked Kerry.

Kerry pulled the blanket back, exposing his own throbbing cock. “Clearly,” he joked. Granger lowered his mouth down onto Kerry’s dick, sucking him slowly, while he grabbed the lanolin. He moved Kerry’s legs back and began to probe his hole as he sucked his dick, getting him ready for the big event. Kerry didn’t seem to enjoy being penetrated as much as he enjoyed being the penetrator, so sex with him had usually involved Granger getting fucked. Granger had no problem with that, as the strong, masculine brigadier was a skilled lover, an expert at pleasuring those who were lucky enough to be on the receiving end of his large cock. His normal role as the fucker made this all the more exciting for both of them, but it also meant that Granger had to take his time.

Granger felt Somers’ hand brush across his ass, caressing it, and he moaned right into Kerry’s cock. Somers’ hands explored the posterior of his handsome young captain, gently tracing his hole with his finger, then adding lanolin and resuming his playful torture, flitting around that magical place ever so lightly, then pushing in more firmly, then flitting again. He had fully aroused the horny beast that was George Granger, who moved forward to enter Kerry. He pushed Kerry’s legs back, bending him over double, then lined his dick up and slowly slid in. Kerry cringed at first, and his dick deflated a bit as he handled the initial pain and discomfort of being fucked, but it passed soon enough.

“You feel so good, George,” Kerry cooed contentedly as Granger began to move in and out of him slowly, letting himself get used to the feel of Granger’s dick inside him. “So good.”

Granger leaned in to kiss him, and as he did, he felt Somers’ hands probing him more forcefully, making him moan again, this time in Kerry’s mouth. He felt Somers’ legs brush against his inner thighs as he moved in, and then felt that familiar feeling of Somers’ big dick as it pushed against his hole. Granger stopped moving, giving up that fantastic sensation of sliding in and out of Kerry’s ass, to let Somers enter him. He felt his ass fill with Somers’ cock, and then the marine captain began to fuck him, with slow, long, deliberate strokes.

Within no time at all, Granger began to move with him in perfect rhythm. “God, this is good,” he said as he broke off his kiss with Kerry and leaned in so his mouth was next to Kerry’s ear. “Thank you so much. This is so good. So good.”

Granger nuzzled against Kerry’s neck, nibbling behind his ear, things he knew Kerry liked, and felt Somers pressing down on him more firmly, almost lying on top of him as he fucked Granger, smashing him between the two magnificent fair-haired men. And then something happened that really surprised Granger. He noticed that Kerry seemed distracted, and glanced sideways to see him locking eyes with Somers. Somers moved in slowly, ever so slowly, until his mouth met Kerry’s. It was as if someone had released an avalanche of pent-up feelings. Both men seemed to lose it, in paroxysms of bliss as they kissed; something they’d obviously both wanted to do for years.

Sensing that he’d gone from being an object of their mutual lust to a now-inconvenient partner, Granger urged his body on, and came, blasting his load deep in Kerry’s bowel. His orgasm didn’t have the force he had hoped, but it was an orgasm, and a good one. When he was done, Somers pulled out of him slowly, while he did the same thing for Kerry. “And now you must take my place, and finish the job,” Granger said to Somers.

There was no argument, since Somers and Kerry both wanted that desperately. Granger watched as they began to fuck, alternating between slow, loving thrusts and hard, pounding penetrations. He put his clothing on, his uniform coat and pants, then bundled on his coat and snuck out of the cabin unseen, giving these two cousins a chance to enjoy themselves alone.

February 27, 1797

Someone observing George Granger as he paced the deck of his ship would have seen the handsome young man striding confidently and serenely, giving off that calm and measured air that he usually exuded. They would never discern the storm that bubbled beneath the surface; the conflicting emotions that were irritating him. The main source of his irritation was Calder, who stood by the rail gazing meaningfully over the side. The man had been a truly unpleasant passenger, not through any act of commission, but merely by being completely anti-social. In fact, the only way to get a reaction from him was seemingly to praise Nelson, something Granger, Elliot, Drinkwater, and Kerry had taken to doing just to annoy the man.

Granger paused to follow Calder’s gaze to the Isle of Wight, to England, and repressed a smile as the positive emotions surged. He inhaled deeply, imagining that he could smell England in the air. Today he would deposit Calder, and possibly his passengers, ashore, and then he would be free to sail up the Channel. Home was within reach.

Kerry came up on deck and smiled at him, a smile which Granger returned, even though it was forced. When he’d instigated the threesome with Somers, Granger had hoped it would bring Somers and Kerry closer, and help thaw what had seemed like an inherent chill in their relationship. His biggest fear had been that they would end up hating each other, or at the worst, be very uncomfortable with each other. In fact, neither of those things had happened. The coupling had brought them closer, but much closer than Granger had intended. Kerry had taken advantage of the changes in their passenger list and had taken a cabin in the wardroom, leaving Granger to occupy his own partitioned cabin alone. Based on the infrequency of the visits that he received from Kerry, he could only assume that he’d spent most of the voyage fucking Somers.

Granger wanted to be mad about that, to throw what amounted to a temper tantrum, but that would never do. He felt rejected and hurt, not by Somers, but by Kerry. Kerry had come aboard and told Granger that he loved him, had spoken those words over and over again, and had shown Granger physically that he cared for him at every opportunity, yet he had dropped Granger like a rock. He’d left Granger high and dry while he’d run off to play with Somers.

Granger’s mood waxed philosophical, and he thought back to his days aboard Intrepid, and how he and Calvert had fought like the young lovers that they were. He remembered how he’d upset Calvert with his tryst with Sir Evelyn, and how Calvert had pouted for days afterward. He thought about their emotional confrontations, and how juvenile those had been, fueled by passion and love. Granger couldn’t decide if his ability to bury his feelings and remain cheerful and friendly with Kerry were a result of his maturity, or if they were a symptom of his true feelings. Maybe he didn’t love Kerry. He’d thought that he did, he’d told Kerry that he did, but if he did, wouldn’t he be more upset about this whole affair? Wouldn’t he be unhinged as he had been with Calvert?

Belvidera rounded the Isle of Wight and the anchorage of Spithead came into view, with the city of Portsmouth in the background. Granger was surprised to see the anchorage was nearly deserted. Lord Bridport had evidently taken the Channel Fleet to sea, leaving the fleet auxiliaries and stragglers behind.

Lennox approached Granger, interrupting his captain’s walk to ask for orders. Lennox had worked hard to fill the role of first lieutenant, and he’d done a good job. The first few days had been a little rough for him, as he’d grappled to adapt to a new set of responsibilities. He was used to operating in the political boiler of a flagship, where as one of Jervis’ flag lieutenants, he would have power due to his access to his chief, but he would be frantically busy and constantly harassed by the demands of that same chief, who was renowned for being irascible. His world there would revolve around paperwork, signals, and politics. Now he was a naval officer again. The things that he’d occupied his time with before were but a small part of his job on Belvidera. As first lieutenant, he was responsible for all the administrative details of the ship, as well as being responsible, after Granger, for the ship herself. So he’d put his political skills aside to tackle the Atlantic ocean, and put his signaling abilities on hold while he kept Belvidera on course in the midst of strong winds.

“You may heave to, Mr. Lennox,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” Lennox said, and began rattling out the orders that would take Belvidera’s way off her, and leave her floating and drifting in the turbulent waters of Spithead. After the first few days, Lennox had adapted, and had done a good job in his position, but if Granger were completely honest, he would admit that he felt more comfortable with Clifton handling the ship than with Lennox at her helm. Clifton seemed to have a natural knack for it, as if he were actually one with Belvidera, while Lennox seemed to give his orders in a stunted way, such that their maneuvers didn’t flow as smoothly.

“You’re not planning to anchor?” Calder asked, interrupting Granger’s introspection.

Granger eyed him coolly. “No. I am anxious to get underway as soon as possible.”

“The trip to shore and back will be a long row for a boat,” Calder observed in his terse way.

“I have no intention of sending a boat ashore,” Granger told him. “Mr. Lennox, be so good as to hail one of those shore boats,” Granger ordered.

“You’re sending me ashore on a bumboat?” Calder asked, outraged.

“It will be safer than an open boat,” Granger observed, “and I have no desire to get wind-bound at Spithead.”

“Your hospitality is duly noted, Captain,” Calder said acidly.

“Thank you, Captain,” Granger replied, pretending that it was a compliment, and only irritating Calder that much more. Calder stormed off the deck, presumably to go gather his things. Granger had decided early on in this voyage that he wasn’t going to put up with a bunch of crap from Calder. The man was important to him only so much as he had Sir John’s ear. Now they were in England, where Granger’s power would eclipse Calder’s.

Sir Gilbert chose that moment to come on deck, his cloak bundled tightly around him. “I intend to go ashore as well, Captain,” he said. “My suite will be joining me.”

“If you are sure, sir,” Granger said. He had been more than happy to drop Calder in a shore boat and send him off, but he was more anxious about doing so with Sir Gilbert. It would be a rough ride into Portsmouth.

“Captain Calder is on a mission to reap rewards for himself and to disparage the name of our dear friend,” Elliot said, referring to Nelson. “If I do not go ashore with him, he may just succeed on both those counts.”

“I had intended to send him ashore on a bumboat, but if you are going, we will close with the land, Your Excellency.”

“Do not bother, Sir George. I have made it this far, I am unlikely to drown at Spithead.” He chuckled at his own joke. “You will be able to reach London faster, and that is important. You will be needed.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Granger said. His fears were somewhat assuaged when Lennox tracked down a large boat, one that was lashed alongside as Elliot’s baggage was transferred into it. That was no mean feat, considering how rough the seas were, but it was accomplished without incident. Calder fumed at the delay, at having to wait for Sir Gilbert and his things to board the boat. And then it was time for them to take their leave of him.

“Colonel, it has been a pleasure to have you on board,” Granger said to Drinkwater sincerely. “Rarely have I enjoyed such entertaining conversation.”

“You have a gift for flattery, Sir George, especially when it is not merited,” Drinkwater replied gracefully. “I have drafted a narrative of our battle, and left a copy for you. Hopefully you will find it to be accurate.”

“I am sure that it will be,” Granger said, and then the colonel was over the side and into the boat.

“Good luck in London, Captain,” Granger said to Calder. There was no mistaking the total lack of warmth in his tone.

“And a safe and speedy journey to you, Captain,” Calder said, with just as much frigidity.

Granger strolled over to where they were getting Elliot into the bosun’s chair. “I wish you safe travels, Your Excellency.”

“Thank you, Sir George. I fear I will be delayed along the way as I stop to tell everyone of your hospitality, which was better than I have ever experienced aboard a King’s ship.”

Granger smiled genuinely at that compliment. Having a good reputation as a host was important to any captain. “I find that hospitality is as much a factor of the guest as the host, Your Excellency.” Elliot smiled at him, and then nodded, signaling that the men should pull on the ropes and haul him over the side. Granger watched to make sure he was safely aboard, and then they cast off the boat, and sent their passengers on their way. All the passengers except for Kerry, who had opted to stay aboard. That would give him more time to fuck Somers, Granger thought bitterly, not that anyone would have been able to tell that from his expression.

“Mr. Lennox, you may square away. We are going to London.”

“Aye aye sir,” Lennox said with a grin.