St. Vincent - 40. Chapter 40

March 15, 1797

George Granger paced the deck of his ship, pondering her fate, as well as his own. He’d expected to have received orders from the Admiralty to pay off Belvidera by now, but none had arrived. He’d expected to be back in London by now, but he was still at Spithead. He’d expected to be happy to be back in England, but he wasn’t.

Part of that was sheer loneliness. He’d bid farewell to Chartley just that morning. Chartley had been away from London and his own obligations long enough, and had explained to Granger that he needed to return. Granger couldn’t help but feel that Chartley had been a little bored by him, or perhaps he was just overwhelmed by all the Granger family drama. Theirs had been a friendly parting, with protestations of love on both sides, but it had been a parting nonetheless.

Granger hadn’t heard from his brother and sister-in-law since Freddie went ashore two days ago. He’d recovered well enough from his surgery, and Jackson had said there were no complications, but Freddie didn’t seem any happier about things. Granger had a hard time understanding that. If he’d been unable to have sex because of the pain, and if someone were to alleviate his problem, he’d be eternally grateful. Then again, with his slutty ways, that was no big surprise. Granger actually smiled at that. He looked around the deck, and saw Llewellyn gazing out across the water toward the Isle of Wight.

An idea inspired him. “Mr. Llewellyn,” Granger called.

“Sir?”

“What time are you off watch?”

“In an hour, sir.”

“Would you fancy a trip ashore?”

Llewellyn smiled at him, and his smile was almost humorous. With his white skin, black hair, and strange eyebrows, Llewellyn’s smile looked almost sinister. “I’d like that very much, sir.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. Clifton came up on deck at that point, and Granger invited him to walk with him.

“Do you think we’ll receive our orders soon, sir?” Clifton was being very daring, speculating with Granger about a very tense issue.

But Granger was cheered by his plan to go ashore, so he obliged Clifton’s curiosity. “I had thought we’d have received them already. I am not sure what is delaying the Admiralty. Every day we are commissioned costs them money.”

“Perhaps they don’t know what to do with us, sir,” Clifton offered.

“You may be right,” Granger agreed. “How are the repairs going?”

“We’ve cleared out the aft part of the hold, and the carpenter feels that he can shore us up enough to go to sea, but he is concerned that her knees won’t hold the weight of the 18-pounders, sir.”

“I am hoping that our only trek will be into the docks,” Granger said. “I am planning to go ashore today. If we do not get orders from the Admiralty by the end of the week, I will grant you and some of the officers leave for a few days to go visit the capital.”

“Thank you, sir,” Clifton said sincerely. “I am sure the other men would appreciate it, but I am content to remain here and see my duty through first.”

“You have been an excellent first lieutenant, Mr. Clifton,” Granger said. “I would be happy to retain you in that role at some point in the future.”

“Perhaps on your next ship, sir,” Clifton said boldly, with a charming smile.

“I would be careful about wishing for that,” Granger replied. “There is a good chance they will send me off to the ends of the world again.”

“You have been home for such a short time already, sir, and they have already decided to send you away?” Clifton joked. Granger laughed with him.

“I am dismayed that I have worn out my welcome so quickly.” The two men paced the deck in the calm waters of Spithead, with Granger regaling Clifton with the gossip he’d heard while at court and Carleton House, and Clifton entertaining Granger with vignettes of the men and their time here at anchor. ‘Wives’, such as they were, were normally allowed on board, but Granger and Clifton decided to avoid that by giving the crew leave. They both felt confident that desertion at this point would be minimal, especially since the wages the men would receive at pay off would be substantial.

Llewellyn stood at the end of their lane, blocking their walk. He was clearly nervous about interrupting his two most senior officers. “Mr. Llewellyn?” Clifton asked, irritated.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir,” he said, almost stuttering he was so uneasy at bothering these men. He addressed himself to Granger. “I’m off watch, sir.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. “Mr. Clifton, would you please ready my gig. Pass the word for Winkler.” It took another half hour to get themselves organized, and to get everyone loaded into the boat. The men unhooked the gig and pushed her away from Belvidera, then began to row her away from the ship.

“Where to, sir?” Jeffers asked, even though he was already steering to Portsmouth.

“Take us to Ryde.”

Jeffers looked at him dubiously. “Aye aye sir.” He turned the boat toward the Isle of Wight, and once they’d cleared Belvidera, they boated the oars and set the lugsail. It was a beautiful spring day, with warm air and a strong breeze: the perfect day for sailing. Granger had started the day in a bad mood, what with Chartley leaving, but that mood had all but vanished in the face of this exhilarating boat ride. They arrived in Ryde, and Granger dispatched Jeffers to hire horses for him, Jeffers, Winkler, and Llewellyn.

While they were waiting for horses, Granger led Llewellyn over to a table at a nearby inn and ordered some ale and food. “So why are we here, sir?” Llewellyn asked.

“It seems that I own a substantial amount of land on this island. In fact, it includes some of this town, and has the Barony of Ryde attached to it.”

“Here’s your ale, Sir George,” the barmaid said as she set their glasses down.

“Thank you,” Granger said. “Do you know where I might find a Mr. Markham?”

“You mean the man wot manages estates?” she asked. Granger nodded. “He went off this morning with a party of men, Sir George.”

“It is no matter,” Granger said. He had hoped to have the man guide him about, but it was his own fault for not pre-arranging things. They drank their ale and ate a brief meal, and then Granger paid them generously and met Jeffers and their horses. They weren’t the most spirited of beasts, but they would serve.

They rode off toward Cowes, pausing at the top of a crest to gaze out at Spithead. Granger saw Belvidera riding gently to her anchor and felt that same surge of sadness. Maybe he would lobby to retain command, and see her through her refit. He almost forgot there were powerful people agitating to get him out of England for an extended period of time. They came to a large plot of land east of Cowes, and Granger diverted off the road to explore it. It was gorgeous, with acres of lush green lands that seemed to flow seamlessly down to a small beach. Granger pulled his horse up and the others followed his example. There was a small bluff quite near the shore, and it provided a spectacular view of Spithead and the Solent. They could see both Portsmouth and Southampton off in the distance. Granger felt so relaxed, so at peace on this plot of land. He looked back to the interior of the island and saw a party of men riding around on land that was presumably his. They were some distance away.

“Let’s go investigate,” he said to his party. Of course they followed him. As they got closer, Granger noticed that the other group looked benign enough. There were five men, two of whom were older, and three younger men, presumably aides. “Good day, gentlemen,” Granger said affably as he pulled up his horse.

“Good day,” one of the men said. “What can we do for you?”

“I’m Sir George Granger. I’m merely exploring my land.”

“I’m Erasmus Markham, Sir George,” the man said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ah yes. I heard you were out today. I inquired after you when I arrived in town.”

“Mr. Nash was visiting the island, and asked me to show him about,” Markham said, gesturing to the other man. He looked to be in his late 40s or early 50s, with droopy eyes, a long droopy nose, and a small, pointed chin.

John Nash 

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir George,” he said, with an accent to his voice. That was explained when Llewellyn began speaking to him in Celtic. Markham and Granger watched as the two of them yammered away, understanding not a word of what they were saying. Granger found the situation humorous, and enjoyed hearing this strange tongue being spoken. He was used to hearing Gaelic, as there were many Irishmen in the Navy, but Welsh seemed different. Markham wasn’t as amused; presumably in his role as a manager and businessman, he wasn’t allowed much free time for mirth.

The two Welshmen seemed to suddenly realize that they’d been guilty of neglecting the others with them. “I’m sorry, sir,” Llewellyn apologized. “Mr. Nash spent a good amount of time in Carmarthen, and is known to my father.”

“Well that is most excellent,” Granger said. “And what do you do, Mr. Nash?”

“I am an architect. I’ve recently moved back to London, and I’ve taken on a few commissions, but I love this area, and I fancy finding a plot of land to build a house on.”

“How interesting,” Granger observed. “As I was standing on a plot of land not far from here, I had the same thought. It truly is a serene place.”

“I have ridden all over this island, but I keep coming back to this spot,” Nash said. “This is where I want to build my home. I understand that you are the owner of this parcel. I envision that I would need approximately 50 acres to accommodate my project. I am wondering if we could come to some agreement that would allow me to purchase it.”

Granger smiled at him, a plan unfolding in his head. “I have an idea. Will you follow me?” Granger led them back to the spot he’d spied them from. “I was inclined to build a nice home here, nothing too spectacular, but nice enough that I could spend time here with my family.”

Nash looked around, studying the land and the scenery. “I think this is a wonderful location, Sir George. This would have been my next choice, had you refused my offer to buy the other plot.”

Granger smiled at Nash, and the way he subtly implied that his purchase of the plot he wanted was a done deal. “I am thinking that rather than a sale, we could work out an exchange agreement. Perhaps you can design and supervise the construction of a home for me on this site, and in return, I can cede you the land that you need to construct your own.”

Nash smiled broadly. “That would allow me to accelerate my own construction, since I won’t have to expend funds on land.”

Nash's Creation:  East Cowes Castle (1824)

“I expect to return to London shortly,” Granger told him. “Perhaps you can join me there, and we can formalize our plans?”

“It would be my pleasure, Sir George,” Nash said. They shook hands, and then both men rode off with their respective parties.

“I hope this man is of good character,” Granger said to Llewellyn.

“I think he has had some trials in his life, sir, but my understanding is that he is an excellent architect. He has produced some good work in Wales.”

Granger thought about this latest project as they rode back to Ryde, and headed back to the ship. He’d never had the chance to build a place to his own specifications, primarily because Caroline had handled that before. They’d been given Brentwood as a wedding present, and while the bones of the building were pre-determined, Caroline had done a marvelous job on rehabilitating it. Their townhouse in London was similar, in that they’d gotten it as a gift from his grandfather but then Caroline had renovated that as well. This would be his project, and he would put his own stamp on it.

Granger reboarded his ship and found Clifton waiting for him, looking concerned. “Orders arrived while you were gone, sir.”

“You did not see fit to track me down, Mr. Clifton?”

“I’m sorry, sir. We really didn’t know where you’d gone.”

Granger chided himself for not telling Clifton where he was going. “That’s quite alright.”

“The orders are in your cabin, sir.” Granger said nothing, but went below to read them. He took the envelope, made from the Admiralty’s unique stationery, and pulled out his letter opener, slitting open the orders that would end his command of Belvidera. Granger read them, and then re-read them again. They were not what he was expecting.

“Pass the word for Mr. Clifton,” Granger ordered. He heard the call go up to the quarterdeck, and Clifton appeared in front of him almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for a summons.

“You sent for me, sir?”

“We are to sail Belvidera to Woolwich and pay her off there, as soon as we arrive.”

“They’re sending us around to London, sir?” Clifton was as surprised as he was.

“I’m not sure why,” Granger speculated, unbending with Clifton.

“I heard that they’re expecting the ships from the battle to be arriving here soon. Maybe they need these docks for those ships, sir?”

“You may be right,” Granger agreed. That would make sense, since those ships would be in much worse shape than Belvidera. “You’ll have to recall the men on leave. Send the marines to track them down. We’ll leave on the morning tide.”

“Aye aye sir.”

March 19, 1797

His Majesty’s frigate Belvidera sailed slowly into Woolwich, completing the final leg of their journey. They’d had foul winds for most of the way, and that had extended their trip to reach London to three days. Granger remembered the storm they’d endured, and decided that it could have been much worse. They guided the ship to just outside the dock and anchored her.

A boat approached and hooked on. It took quite a bit of time for the passenger to appear, and when he did, Granger understood the delay. A very portly man heaved himself over the side, panting as he did. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, and he didn’t observe the normal courtesy of saluting the quarterdeck. “Sir George Granger?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been sent from the Admiralty to pay off this ship. These are the vouchers that you will need to sign, and these are the accounts you’ll have to settle,” he said, attempting to hand Granger some documents.

Granger waved his hand toward Andrews, who took the documents from the man. “And you are?”

“James Malcolm, from the Navy Board.” He had that arrogant air of someone firmly entrenched in a civil service position.

“Well thank you, Mr. Malcolm. I’m sure we can handle things from here.”

“You’ll need me to countersign those vouchers,” he said. “Since it’s Sunday, the men won’t be able to redeem them from the Admiralty.” He had a devious expression on his face.

“I had wanted to release the hands today,” Granger said, just to see what Malcolm would do.

“We can do that. The men will have to wait until Monday to redeem their vouchers, though.”

“That is really their problem, not mine,” Granger said callously, as if he didn’t care about them. “Mr. Malcolm, Mr. Andrews, I would like you two to make haste to complete this project. I would like the men released from this vessel as soon as possible.”

“Aye aye sir,” Andrews said. They took four hours to go through and complete the vouchers. Granger was so proud of his men, who said nothing to Malcolm. They maintained silence for most of the time, other than the odd comment, but even that got them a curt look from their petty officers.

“Your men certainly had a good voyage,” Malcolm said with a grin as he was completing the last of the vouchers. He’d been dropping comments to the men as he issued them, telling them that if they needed money right away, there were reputable bill exchange men just outside the dockyard. He told them to look for the men with the yellow jackets. Some of the men validated his comments by repeating the yellow jacket part. Belvidera had been lucky with prize money, and the pay for these men was substantial. The men outside the dockyard would be salivating over the profits they’d make on this deal, and Malcolm was clearly salivating over the share of those profits that would fall into his pocket.

“Have you completed your work?” Granger asked him coolly.

“I have,” he said, picking up his books. “When will your men disembark?”

“Shortly,” Granger said, and showed him over the side. They waited until he was well on his way, and then Granger put his plan into motion.

“Mr. Clifton, are we ready to land the men?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Andrews is ready with your chest, and we have the boat’s crew ready with the launch.”

“Excellent. Please have the hands lay aft.” The whistles blew for all hands, augmented by the cry, and the men assembled.

“All assembled, sir.”

“Men!” Granger said loudly. They were paying attention, and there was no blustering wind like there was at sea, so he lowered his voice a bit. “We have had a good voyage together, and a profitable one as well.” He saw many of them grin at that. “You are the best crew a captain could want. Many of you have been with me for a long time, while some of you have joined the ship more recently, yet each of you has proven yourself.” He paused to catch his breath, and collect his words. “You have been given Admiralty vouchers. When you go ashore, you will be offered considerably less for them than their face value. Instead, I am going to redeem them for you at face value, here, before you leave the ship. Mr. Andrews is waiting with money from my purse to pay you in coin.” They stared at him blankly, and then they began cheering.

Granger finally had to calm them down so he could continue. “If I had another ship, I would offer you a post on board her, but I do not. When you walk through the gates of the dockyard, you will probably find the press waiting for you.” Now their looks were somber, and they looked trapped. “I have a few alternatives for you. For those of you who want to enjoy the fruits of your labor, we will use one of the ships boats to land you on the South Bank.” That would be closer to the part of town most of them would head to anyway. “For those of you who would like something to do, I have recently acquired an old Abbey in Norwood. It is five miles south of here. It needs considerable renovation, which I am willing to pay for. If you wish to work on that project, Mr. Clifton will be leading a group to that establishment. Once it has been renovated, there will be a room for you if you need a place to stay. Mr. Andrews has prepared a list of all those who have served here, and you will be welcomed at the Abbey. You will then have a place with free room and board until I can offer you another ship to sign onto.” They blinked at him for a bit as they pondered his words. The first reaction was that they’d escape the press. The second was that he’d given them a place to go, and for some, that was important, especially for the members of the crew that had been Frenchmen. They were now in a country that they served but did not know, and it would give them a place to land.

They cheered for him again, and he took off his hat to thank them, and then retired to his great cabin. He looked around at his things, his furnishings, which Winkler would take care of unloading. He heard the first group of men going over the side, and heard the boat leave. It made several trips, while Granger sat in his cabin, mentally closing this chapter in his life. A knock on his door heralded the arrival of Andrews and Clifton.

“Sir, all the men have disembarked except the last load, and your staff. We’re planning to go over with the last load of men and head to the Abbey.”

“Mr. Andrews, you have sufficient funds for supplies?” He was going to help the men restore the Abbey by purchasing supplies for them, and paying them to do the labor. Granger had been surprised when Andrews had volunteered to be the paymaster and supervise their expenditures, and had insisted on paying him well to do the job.

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Thank you, gentlemen. I will be at either Portland Place or Brentwood. You may call on me there.” Granger walked up on deck with them. It was starting to get dark. He left the standing officers on board: the carpenter, the boatswain, and the master, and prepared to go over the side. He paused and took one last look around, bit back the tears that tried to form, and then settled into his gig. “The dock,” he said simply.

“Aye aye sir,” Holmquist said. Jeffers was with the men who were marching to the Abbey, so Holmquist had filled in for him. The only other officer in the boat was Llewellyn.

“And where are you planning to go tonight, Mr. Llewellyn?”

“I plan to engage a room, then head back home tomorrow, if that’s alright with you, sir.”

“That’s most unsatisfactory,” Granger said. He almost laughed at Llewellyn’s expression. “You will stay with me tonight, and then you can leave tomorrow as planned.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said with a grin. There were some fifteen men with him, ten crewmen and five marines, and they were there mostly for his protection. London was a rowdy town, and one did not go out and about, especially at night, without some form of escort. He spoke only briefly to the dockyard workers to let them know the ship was paid off and almost deserted, then they strolled out of the dockyard.

A disturbed Mr. Malcolm approached him. “Where are all the men?”

“You call me sir,” Granger snapped. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Exchange your vouchers?” one of the men in yellow jackets called to Granger’s men.

“Already exchanged, mate,” one of the men answered. The men in the yellow jackets glared at them, then turned their backs and left, realizing that they’d missed an excellent opportunity. Malcolm made to say something but Granger merely brushed past him, ignoring him for the parasite that he was.

The next hurdle was even easier to deal with. He was intercepted by a spruce looking lieutenant. “Sir, I’m Lieutenant St. Charles, sent to press the men who were formerly members of your crew.”

“I fear you are a little late for that, Lieutenant,” Granger said. “They are already gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.” Granger saw his eye looking at the ten men he had with him. The look was almost lustful, not because he wanted to fuck them, but because he wanted to draft them. “These men are all that are left, and they are escorting me home, to ensure my safety.”

He saw St. Charles almost growl at that, at knowing that he couldn’t possibly poach Granger’s personal guard from him. “We’ll have to try to catch up with them, sir,” he said fatalistically. “Come along then,” he said to his press gang. He saw the men with him trying not to smile too broadly at having Granger keep them from the press.

Granger engaged two coaches to take them to his residence. When they arrived, Cheevers was there to greet him, and seemed surprised to see the extra men with him. “Welcome home, sir.”

“Thank you, Cheevers. Please ask the coachmen to take these men to the Norwood Abbey. As soon as that’s arranged, please come see me in the drawing room.”

“Yes, sir.” Granger led Holmquist and Llewellyn to the drawing room and poured them each a glass of wine. Cheevers arrived after only a few minutes. “The men are on their way, sir.”

“Excellent, Cheevers. I’d like you to ready the baths, but first we’d like something to eat. I’m quite hungry.”

“Of course, sir. Right away.”

“I’ll be heading out to Brentwood tomorrow, right after I deliver my reports to the Admiralty.”

“Will you be gone long, sir?”

“Most likely not.” Cheevers bowed respectfully then went off to take care of their needs. “I hope you gentlemen are as hungry as I am.”

“Yes, sir,” Llewellyn said shyly. He had a voracious attitude, as befitted a lad his age.

They dined, enjoying a truly fantastic beefsteak. Lefavre had clearly made it for them, and Granger had missed his cooking. After they were done, Granger led them down to the baths.

Granger was finished changing first, and immediately immersed himself in the pool. Holmquist came out next, his big dick already halfway erect. He put his hand over it nervously, but Granger just smiled at him and motioned him in. Finally, Llewellyn came out, shyly covering his crotch up. He looked at the bath suspiciously, but got in with Granger and Holmquist. “This is marvelous, sir,” he said, as he enjoyed the water.

“Yes, it is,” Granger said firmly. “Unfortunately for you, you were the last one in the pool.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said nervously.

“As am I. I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished for that.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. Granger guided him over to the edge of the pool and made him stand up and bend over, exposing his cute little ass. Granger smacked his ass hard, and then ran his hand over it softly after that, making sure to let his fingers graze down his crack. Llewellyn moaned, and his whole body stiffened with excitement.

Holmquist came up and stood beside Granger, rising out of the water as he did and exposing his enormous dick. He slapped Llewellyn just as Granger had. Over and over Holmquist slapped him, while Granger maneuvered himself in front of the young man and took his cock in his mouth. He heard Llewellyn moan loudly, and then with the next smack on his ass, he exploded, flooding Granger’s mouth with his load.

Granger kept Llewellyn’s essence in his mouth, then spit it out into his hand and used it to lubricate Granger’s own ass and Holmquist’s massive cock. He bent over, much as Llewellyn had done, and felt Holmquist pressing into him. He had to really focus on relaxing to take that huge dick, but it didn’t take him too long. Llewellyn just stared at them, amazed at Granger’s ability to absorb that thing, and watched as Holmquist began to gently fuck his captain. Soon the gentle fuck became more intense, until it was no longer gentle at all. Granger gave himself over to the pleasure Holmquist was giving him, until he could stand it no more. He heard himself moan loudly, and then his dick began to erupt. His whole body quivered and shook as Holmquist brought him through one massive orgasm. When Granger was done, Holmquist pulled out slowly, and then masturbated himself while the two other men watched in awe. He grabbed Llewellyn roughly by the hair and pulled him over to his groin, and then blasted his load all over the young Welshman’s face. Granger could see Llewellyn frantically jacking off under the water, bringing himself off again. After that, they used the baths as they were intended, and then the three clean men went upstairs to continue their orgy in Granger’s bed.