St. Vincent - 33. Chapter 33

March 8, 1797

The coach lurched as it hit yet another bump in the road, jostling Granger into Kerry, who was sitting next to him. It was stuffy, but opening the window a bit didn’t seem to alleviate that; it merely made it colder inside. Granger was trying to be good company, and to remain in good spirits, but he was finding it difficult. He’d undoubtedly be leaving his command, the ship that he’d grown to love. Belvidera was a ship that was an excellent sailer, but only if one knew her and knew how to get the best out of her. Granger had spent almost two years in command of the beautiful frigate, and her moods and her quirks had become part of him. He hadn’t even been officially removed from command, but he was already mourning the loss of her. Maybe they would leave him in command and let him supervise her refit? He pondered that option, and even though it was attractive, he knew it would take some time to get her into the dock and to repair her damage. The dockyard classified significant repairs into two categories: they would be either ‘great’ or ‘middling’. Granger knew that the ship was facing at least a middling repair, probably a great repair. A great repair was a virtual reconstruction of the ship. There would be a myriad of other issues to deal with while she was in the dockyard’s care, and that would take significant time, probably the better part of a year. As much as he loved his ship, the thought of being stuck ashore without a viable command for a long period while the war continued on was simply maddening. Granger was truly one of his class: an aristocratic warrior determined to fight for King and country. Sitting idly by while others were out battling would drive him crazy.

If he were to be more philosophical about it, he would also realize that he hated periods like this where he had no command and no assignment. Granger had grown up in an orderly world, where people and things all had their places, so when he suddenly didn’t have a place, or a role to play, he felt completely lost.

Rubbing against Kerry at every lurch of the coach wasn’t helping his mood either. He was having a difficult time being pleasant to the handsome brigadier. They hadn’t had sex since before they’d landed Calder and Elliot at Spithead, and while Granger didn’t expect to have Kerry’s full attention, he had expected to have at least some of it. He moved purposely further away from Kerry, as if to put distance between them. Kerry looked at him nervously, getting that Granger was miffed at him, but Granger was in a petulant mood, which made him even more ill-tempered. He chose to ignore Kerry, ignore the situation, and keep his mouth shut, three things that should enable him to keep his dignity.

Lennox sat across from him, sitting next to Somers. Granger hadn’t had a chance to spend any quality time with his handsome blond lieutenant, something he truly regretted. Lennox sensed Granger’s eyes on him and looked at Granger, giving him a brief smile. Granger chose to believe that he was reading Granger’s thoughts and was receptive to a possible tryst, then decided that he was only rationalizing that so he didn’t feel so rejected by Kerry. Even though it was cold and rainy, he fervently wished he were atop the coach with Winkler, Jeffers, and Lefavre.

Kerry looked out the window and commented on their progress. “We should make London within the next two hours.”

“Excellent,” Granger said coolly. He could figure out where they were just as easily as Kerry could. It seemed that everything the man said and did irritated Granger. Besides, Kerry’s estimation for time left no allowance for them getting stuck in the mud again. They’d already had to vacate the coach once to let the footmen heave it out of a muddy rut. Yet another thing to foul Granger’s mood.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but had Lord Bridport heard of our great victory?” Lennox asked.

“He had, Mr. Lennox,” Granger said. “He was most pleased.” That was about as enthusiastic a response as Granger could honestly give, considering Bridport’s actual reception. Bridport had been cordial, but there had been a coolness about his manner that seemed to be directed at Granger. He may be unhappy that the Mediterranean Fleet had scored a key victory while his Channel Fleet had not. He was definitely not happy when he heard about the prize that Granger had taken at Cherbourg. Granger didn’t understand his attitude. It’s not as if he’d taken her out from under the noses of one of the frigates or other ships in the Channel Fleet. Bridport’s ships had missed her, let her slip by, and he’d caught her at the last possible moment. Granger suspected that there was more than just honor in play here, that the money involved was also important. The flag officer in command would expect to get one-eighth of the value of Honfleur, and that looked to approach 10,000 pounds. If a ship of the Channel Fleet had captured her, that money would have gone to Bridport, but Belvidera operated under the orders of Sir John Jervis, so he would receive the money. Granger decided that he’d rather have Bridport be a bit miffed and have Jervis be quite happy, which he undoubtedly would be when he found out he was significantly richer. Granger didn’t share any of these thoughts with his lieutenant, or with Somers and Kerry. He yearned for the coach to reach the Admiralty, where he could be rid of all of them.

Granger took out some of the newspapers that he’d managed to latch on to describing the battle of Cape St. Vincent, as it was being called. As Granger reviewed the various articles, he found himself smiling as he recognized the hand of Sir Gilbert and Colonel Drinkwater. They’d clearly put Nelson’s public relations machine into high gear. The original announcement was merely a publication of Jervis’ terse dispatch, announcing the engagement and the ships that were captured. There was no mention of Nelson’s maneuver in there, which was puzzling in some ways, but understandable. It may be perceived that Jervis was giving Nelson the cold shoulder, ignoring his achievements and his bravery, but on the other hand, Nelson had disobeyed orders, so by not publishing his actions in the report, he took the emphasis away from it.

The subsequent articles must have infuriated Calder. As the whole story came out, the battle began to be re-shaped. One would have thought that Nelson had single-handedly beaten the whole Spanish fleet. The press had fully let itself go, as Granger had foreseen, turning Nelson into an idol. They had even taken to calling it “Nelson’s patent bridge for capturing first rates” or “Nelson’s patent bridge for boarding enemy vessels”, referring to his feat of capturing the San Nicholas first, then boarding the San Josef from her decks. Reference after reference was made to Nelson in the paper. He’d clearly become the darling of the mob.

Granger thought that was a bit unfair, since it tended to marginalize ships that had fought hard, ships like the Culloden, Colossus, and Blenheim. It made it seem as if all the other ships were in a support role. In that regard, he could understand Calder’s frustration, but that did not change the reality of the situation. Nelson’s act had been masterful, ingenious, and courageous. He would reap the rewards for his actions, rewards that were well deserved.

Ironically enough, Nelson had already received his promotion to rear admiral on February 20, some seven days before news of the victory had even reached England. That was a promotion that could not come from a victory, as the only way to flag rank was through seniority. Evidently Nelson had finally risen up the Captain’s list far enough that he got his flag, although there was speculation that there was significant ‘yellowing’ done to achieve that. In that instance, captains who were unsuitable to be admirals were made admirals without a distinct squadron, and were in essence retired on admiral’s half pay. Granger hadn’t studied the upper part of the Captain’s list recently enough to evaluate whether that was indeed the case or not.

The papers had already announced what rewards were anticipated; with such authority that one would think they were speaking directly for the king. Calder would receive a knighthood, as would Nelson, both of them becoming Knights of the Bath, the same order that Granger belonged to. Jervis was to get a peerage, although at what level the papers did not say. Granger rather expected that they’d make him a viscount, as a barony or baronetcy seemed a bit too parsimonious of a reward for such an achievement, while an earldom or more seemed to be a bit generous. He thought of what his father would say if a newly minted peer was slotted into the same rank as he was, and that made Granger actually smile, his first smile of the day.

The carriage pulled up to the Admiralty and Granger paused before exiting. “Gentlemen, this coach can take you to your own destinations. Mr. Lennox, I think it would be best if you would accompany me to see his lordship.”

“Aye aye sir,” Lennox and Somers said. Granger nodded at Kerry, trying not to appear too cold, and disembarked from the coach, followed by Lennox. Kerry’s eyes registered alarm, as he seemingly understood at last that he’d neglected Granger, and that the handsome young captain had taken his lack of attention amiss. He watched Granger alight from the coach, and at that moment, he finally realized the damage he had done to their relationship, how oblivious he’d been to Granger’s feelings and needs. But it was too late for him to do anything about it, at least right now. For his part, Granger happily pushed all thoughts of Kerry from his mind and focused on his arrival at the Admiralty.

It was seven o’clock in the evening. There were no crowds at the Admiralty at this hour, not that there would be anyway. Granger smiled as he pondered that Nelson’s fame would eclipse his own, and maybe make his own travels around London a bit easier. He strode confidently into the Admiralty building and registered his name with the secretary. He had eyed Granger’s glittering uniform with respect, a respect that was considerably heightened when he looked at the register and saw Granger’s name there. “I will alert the First Lord that you have arrived, Sir George,” the man said with an obsequious tone.

“Thank you,” Granger said simply. The waiting room was empty but for a few lieutenants and a warrant officer Granger did not know. He and Lennox sat in a secluded corner of the room.

“I am surprised that Sir John sent you back with us, even though I am most pleased,” Granger said, broaching a subject that had been on his mind, but that he had not had a chance to address with Lennox. It seemed as if they’d spent all of their time together fighting storms.

“I think that you have seen the reason for that first-hand, sir,” he said. “Sir John wanted to make sure that the contributions of Commodore Nelson and his division were fairly represented to his lordship.”

“So he knew of Captain Calder’s feelings toward Nelson?” Granger felt that he was crossing several lines here, asking a mere lieutenant about his senior officers, but he knew he could trust Lennox, and that his questions would cause no problems with the young man.

“They were pretty obvious, sir,” Lennox said, chuckling. “He was most vocal about it after the battle, at least to the degree that he could be in front of Sir John.”

“Sir John seems to hold Nelson in high esteem.”

“He does indeed, sir,” Lennox confirmed. “The brilliance and exuberance we saw at that battle is something Sir John expected in him.” Lennox looked around nervously. “He puts you in that same class, sir.”

“Me?” Granger asked, amazed. He didn’t see himself in that way at all. Nelson had a charisma and tactical brilliance that he could only imagine. Granger envisioned himself as a polite and charming aristocrat, who in his role as a captain was both competent and lucky. Any stretch beyond that was a gross exaggeration, and Granger thought talk like that made him appear vulgar, and a fraud.

“Yes, sir,” Lennox said, smiling at the modesty of his first captain.

“Gentlemen, the First Lord will see you now,” the secretary said with an officious air. Granger and Lennox followed him down the hall to the familiar office to find Spencer waiting to greet them.

“Welcome back, gentlemen,” Spencer said warmly. “If you will pardon me for a moment, Granger, I’ll deal with Lennox first.”

“Certainly, my lord,” Granger said, and watched Lennox recoil nervously at that.

“I suppose you’re here to make sure I don’t listen to Captain Calder and forget all about Nelson and his contribution,” Spencer said to Lennox.

“That is correct, my lord,” Lennox said. “Although as I have read the accounts of the battle in the press, I suspect that my work here is already done.”

“Indeed it is. Report back here on Tuesday at nine in the morning. I will have dispatches for you to take back to Sir John.” That was hard luck, giving Lennox less than a week to enjoy London.

“Aye aye my lord,” Lennox said. Spencer nodded to him, dismissing him.

“Thank you for your valuable assistance,” Granger said, as he shook Lennox’s hand warmly.

“It was my pleasure, sir,” Lennox said, then turned and strode out, leaving Granger and Spencer alone.

“I’ve read all of your reports with great interest, Granger,” Spencer said evenly. “Your conduct in the Mediterranean has been superb, truly superb.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Granger said. He felt his face break into a huge smile; so pleased was he by Spencer’s kind words, he was unable to maintain his normal restraint.

Spencer got up and walked over to the side table and poured two glasses of port. He carried one over to Granger and handed it to him. The brief interlude allowed the mood to return to a more businesslike setting. “My understanding is that you were to sail to London,” he said to Granger, his tone becoming a little more severe.

“I must apologize for that, my lord,” Granger replied. “We encountered some difficulties in that regard.”

“Why do I think this is the beginning of one of your grand adventures?”

Granger chuckled. “I fear, my lord, that your suspicion is only partly true. It was an adventure, but not all that grand.”

“I suspect supper can wait for this tale. Go on.”

“As soon as we landed Captain Calder, Sir Gilbert, and his suite, we worked our way out into the Channel. No sooner had we begun our voyage than the wind shifted, driving us down Channel. We were hove to for the greater part of three days, my lord,” Granger informed Spencer.

“You must have made quite a bit of leeway.” Spencer’s eyes had studied Granger curiously as he said this. Spencer was quite aware of the influence of winds, seas, tides, and currents on naval operations. He lived in a world where such things must always be considered.

“Yes, my lord. As dawn broke on the fifth, we found ourselves in the mouth of the harbor of Cherbourg, well within range of the French batteries. We endeavored to escape without damage, but they opened fire, and used heated shot.” Granger paused to give Spencer time to comment, but the man remained silent, so Granger continued. “We were struck by four heated balls, my lord, two of which were lodged in remote enough places to start fires.”

“How badly damaged is Belvidera?” Spencer got right to the point, since maintaining ships at sea would be another key concern of his. Frigates were always in demand, and having one out of action was a minor tragedy at best.

“Badly, my lord. The first ball landed in the wardroom, while the second managed to penetrate more deeply into the ship and lodge in the hold. We had fire parties standing by, so the wardroom fire was put out without much damage beyond that space itself. In the hold, it was more difficult to battle the blaze. It hit us aft, and got in among the bread and flour stores.” How could he make Spencer visualize the roaring flames and billowing smoke? How could he describe the blackened timbers and the overwhelming smell of charred remains even after the fire had been put out? How could he put into words the damage to stores and fittings that the saltwater had inflicted, saltwater that they’d had to use to fight the blaze?

“I can well imagine,” the First Lord said, a relief to Granger.

“We had to initially fight through the stores to get to the blaze, my lord, but then they caught fire. It took us the better part of a day to get the fire under control. There is substantial damage to the internal part of the ship. I am concerned that the blaze may have reached as deep as her keel. At the very minimum, the knees and planking in the rear of the ship will require considerable repairs, my lord.” Granger could not hide the despondent tone, the sadness in his voice. He felt as if he had let Belvidera down, that he had let Spencer down, by exposing Belvidera to harm and damage.

Spencer picked up on Granger’s tone, and the underlying emotions. “Captain, Belvidera is a warship, made to battle the enemy. I expect my captains to do their best to safeguard their ships, but I do not see where you recklessly imperiled your vessel.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Granger said, relieved that he would receive no professional discredit for damaging his ship.

“At least you managed to bring her home. We’ll have to see what the dockyard has to say about it. Are you of the opinion that she will have to be paid off?”

“Yes, my lord,” Granger answered firmly. “She cannot return to sea in her current state, at least not to fight.”

“I see.”

Granger swallowed hard. “We captured a prize, my lord.”

“You captured a prize, Granger? With a charred ship? Was this before or after the fires?”

“During, my lord,” Granger answered. “There was a French West Indiaman entering harbor as we were escaping. She is the Honfleur, a large vessel, fully laden.”

“You captured her while you were afire, and right under the noses of the French?” Spencer asked, chuckling and shaking his head. “And she looks to be valuable?”

“Quite valuable, my lord,” Granger said.

“I fear that you will vex Nelson with your antics, Granger. He’s been enjoying a run of great press, and now you will come along with this latest feat and push his name off the front page.”

“I hardly think it’s comparable, my lord.” Granger was horrified that something as simple as capturing a merchant ship would eclipse Nelson’s achievements in capturing the San Nicholas and San Josef.

“It isn’t, but it is new, and that’s what the press likes,” Spencer agreed. “Don’t worry. We’ll release formal announcements of the rewards for the action off St. Vincent, and that will thrust Nelson and Jervis back into the public eye.”

Granger chuckled. “I am most grateful for that, my lord. I have no desire to offend either one of those gentlemen.”

“Good words to live by. Neither one likes to have his press stolen,” Spencer chuckled. “I’ll make arrangements to pay Belvidera off. You’re without a command for the first time in a long time. Enjoy your time here at home.”

To Granger, that sounded as if he would be ashore, with little to do for an extended period of time. That was a truly horrible concept to Granger, so horrible that he lost his normal reserved and polished demeanor. “Will you find me another ship, my lord?” Granger asked impulsively. It was a brash and inappropriate question at such a time, but the fact that Granger had taken such a bold step and asked signified to Spencer how important it was to Granger. Spencer’s expression had begun as one of irritation and almost anger at such impudence, and then softened to one of sympathy, as he was able to empathize with Granger’s feelings.

“We will have to see what can be done, Sir George,” Spencer said formally.

“I must thank your lordship for your consideration,” Granger said gracefully, trying to regain his composure.

Spencer mellowed, recognizing the human qualities in this stoic nobleman in front of him. He liked Granger, who had always delivered results and made Spencer and his administration look good, but more than that, he liked the man Granger was. He was honorable and forthright, but with a political astuteness that only looked pale when it was compared to that of his wife. “Granger, I do not make promises, and you know that I have men in here on a daily basis begging me for commands. But you are one of my best captains, so it is unlikely you will be without a ship for long. Does that placate you?”

“It does indeed, my lord,” Granger said grinning. He was finding this interview with Spencer to be one constant ordeal of emotion, fluctuating from highs of happiness to lows of despondence. He was happy to have it back on a more pleasant footing.

“I have reviewed Sir John Jervis’ dispatches, and his letter regarding your encounter with the Spanish fleet the night before the battle,” Spencer said, changing the topic. Granger said nothing, but merely nodded. “I think that was a most noble thing you did, dismissing your own achievements so as not to take away from the glory of our ships of the line.”

Granger was floored by Spencer’s comment, so much that he didn’t quite know what to say. Adjectives like ‘noble’ were especially powerful coming from the First Lord. He managed to mutter “Thank you, my lord.”

Spencer nodded. “I am sure I will see you at Court. In the meantime, I will know to reach you at Portland Place,” Spencer said.

“Or at Brentwood, my lord, if that meets with your approval.”

“That’s fine,” he said, dismissing Granger.

“One more thing, my lord…”

“What?” Now Spencer looked irritated.

“I’d like to go to Portsmouth, to be there when the ship is paid off, my lord.”

“I will see that you accompany the orders, and that you supervise the process,” Spencer said indulgently. “I won’t have a ship for you to transfer the crew into. They will probably be pressed into new ships.”

“Yes, my lord, but at least I’ll be able to make sure they get their full pay.” The men would receive Admiralty vouchers which were exchangeable into currency, but only if presented in London. There were peddlers, who were little better than loan sharks, that preyed on seamen in just that situation. They usually offered 60% of the value of their pay tickets on the spot, and many men succumbed to their offer, either because they were so impatient to enjoy the shore, or because they couldn’t otherwise make their way to London. Granger intended to see that those vultures did not profit from his men.

“Quite so,” Spencer said, dismissing Granger. Granger left, striding confidently out of the Admiralty, a confidence that was entirely an act on Granger’s part. He felt a huge loss, at having his ship consigned to the dockyard, and at not having a new command to replace her.

Granger recognized his coach out front. Winkler must have alerted Caroline, and she must have sent it for him. “Good evening, Sir George,” his coachman said politely. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you,” Granger said curtly, and then hopped in for the brief ride to his home.

They were expecting him, so when he arrived, the entire staff was on hand to welcome him home. The carriage pulled up to the front steps with a rush and there was a footman there to hand him down onto the first step. The other footmen had lined the steps up to the door, where Cheevers waited respectfully. “Welcome home, Sir George.”

“Thank you, Cheevers. It is good to be home.” Granger’s eyes scanned the assembled faces of the staff, the maids, cooks...all of them. He tried to give them pleasant looks to thank them for their warm welcome.

“Lady Granger is waiting for you in the drawing room.” Granger nodded to him and forced himself not to dash up the stairs to get to Caroline. He entered the drawing room and there she was, sitting next to the fire. She was wearing a beautiful lavender gown, and had accessorized it with the earrings and necklace that Granger had bought her with some of the prize money he’d earned when he’d captured Precieuse. He looked beyond that, and studied her expression, which was one of sadness and thought, a disturbing look that made Granger fear something had happened to one of their children, or to his parents.

She felt his eyes on her and looked up to see her husband staring at her. “George!” she cried, putting all of her stoicism aside as she rushed over and hugged him tightly. “It is so good to see you. I am so very glad you are home!”

“It is good to see you too,” Granger said, and pulled her away enough that he could kiss her. It was a strange kiss, one that started out awkwardly, but then became more and more passionate as these two proud people let down their shields, and let their true feelings emerge.

So much had happened, so many events had transpired, that Granger would have led Caroline to her seat and conversed about them at length had not his hormones overwhelmed that logic. He felt his body responding to Caroline, felt his urges taking over even as he clutched her tightly, letting her feel his hard dick press against her.

Suddenly Caroline stopped him and pulled away, then buried her face into his chest. She was sobbing, so Granger stroked her back gently, assuming that she was just releasing the built up stress and emotion all of the recent events in London must have caused her. She’d fought his father tooth and nail to defend their interests, and she’d undoubtedly done the same thing with other people who were less friendly. She’d maintained an influential alliance of friends, including Cavendish and Arthur, and she’d worked to expand their holdings and invest their extensive assets. He surmised that the whole thing must get a bit overwhelming at times, and felt guilty that he had left this all on her shoulders.

“It’s alright, Caroline. I’m home. I’m here for you,” Granger said soothingly. Then that other fear took over his mind, the fear for his family. “Are the children alright?”

“Yes,” she said simply, but for some reason, that seemed to make her cry even harder.

He tried to pull her face up so he could kiss her again, but she resolutely kept it buried in his chest. “Now is this any way to welcome home your husband,” he teased, trying to work her out of her mood.

“I’m so sorry George,” she said. “I’m just so sad.”

“Why? What is the matter?” Granger demanded, getting more agitated.

“You’re going to hate me.”

“Caroline, I can’t imagine what you could do that would make me hate you.” He found that he meant that. It would have to be something truly out of character for that to happen, and even then, he was hard-pressed to imagine feeling that negative emotion toward his wife, whom he loved dearly.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.