Odyssey - 45. Chapter 45

April 1798

“I would much rather have gone to Madras,” Granger groused to Bertie and Chartley as they watched the sprawling city of Calcutta envelop them.

“I am sure John Company would be willing to change its entire administration and move its headquarters from Calcutta to Madras, just to suit you, George,” Bertie said sarcastically.

“I will have to ask the Governor-General about that,” Granger said, smiling. “Who is he, by the way?”

“Lord Mornington,” Chartley answered. “Richard Wellesley is his given name. He’s a decent enough chap, but with the blatant ambition and insatiable greed typical of Irish peers.” Granger had met him before, at one of his parents’ dinner parties. His impression of Wellesley was one that matched Chartley’s.

“Perhaps I should become an Irish peer,” Bertie joked, making them laugh. They watched as Fort William loomed, and the Sultan headed for an anchorage near that monstrous edifice.

The voyage here had been longer than they had hoped, but it had given Granger a chance to work the fever out of his body. He’d put on his best uniform this morning, and as he’d looked in the mirror, he’d noticed a few lines in his face, making him look a bit drawn, but other than that, he seemed to have suffered no other ill effects. He thought of his voyage, and the sexual extravaganza he’d enjoyed with Chartley. They’d shared a cabin, allowing Bertie to have his own, which made it appear that they were being courteous, when in fact they were being quite selfish.

The voyage had been a challenge for Granger, in that it was difficult to sail on a ship he was not commanding. Despite his initial annoyance at having them on board, Raymond had treated them quite well. He’d gone out of his way to discuss the sailing characteristics of his sloop, as much to explain to Granger why he arranged his sails as he did than anything. Granger strolled over to him. “Captain, I am impressed with how well you handle your vessel, and I must thank you for being such a good host.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Raymond said. He was positively beaming at praise from this accomplished peer. “It was truly my pleasure.”

“Would you be opposed to conveying me to Egypt?” Granger asked. They’d talked about it at dinner.

“I am obliged to go where the company sends me, my lord, but I would be honored to convey you,” Raymond said, but a bit reluctantly.

Granger took out a small purse and handed it to Raymond. It contained a sizeable amount of money, or sizeable to Raymond anyway. “I realize that by having us as passengers you may have lost some profits on this voyage. Please accept this as compensation for depriving you of your rightful earnings.”

Raymond took the purse and felt how heavy it was. “Thank you, my lord. That is most generous of you.” Granger tried not to sneer at these company men who seemed to be ruled by money, and instead just smiled politely. A boat loomed off their bow, attracting Raymond’s attention and truncating their conversation.

Granger returned to speak with Chartley and Bertie, listening to them point out one thing or the other. Granger failed to see what these men saw in this part of the world. It was hot, and teemed with people whose language Granger didn’t understand, and whom he found intimidating purely because of their large numbers.

“Your Excellency, my lords,” Raymond said, interrupting their conversation. “The boat has arrived to take you to Government House.”

“Thank you again, Captain,” Granger said. He went into the boat first, and although he wasn’t sure that was quite the correct order, he didn’t want to make an issue about etiquette.

“Welcome to Calcutta, sahibs,” an Indian man said. He was evidently in charge of the boat. He guided them through the shipping to the dock, where they mounted a carriage for the brief ride to Government House. Granger mused at how this was like London, where people took a carriage to go to the end of their block rather than walk.

The headquarters of John Company here in India was quite elaborate. They strode past an honor guard, through massive doors into a grand foyer, and were led from there into a deliciously cool room. Granger noted that there were punkah fans over his head, much as he’d found in Madras. There would be a boy off in the alcove above them, powering the device with his arms and legs. A chamberlain of sorts stood ready to announce them.

“His Excellency the Honorable Albert Granger, Governor of Amboyna,” he said as Bertie entered. “Brigadier the Right Honorable Lord Chartley,” he announced as Chartley went in. “Captain the Right Honorable Viscount Granger.” Granger eyed the two men in the room whom they were being announced to. One was obviously the governor-general, while the other wore the red coat and trappings of an army Colonel.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” Mornington said smoothly as he came forward to greet them.

“It is good to see you, my lord,” Bertie said.

“You were able to remove yourself from Amboyna after all,” Mornington said, and seemed surprised that Bertie had actually followed his orders.

“Of course, my lord,” Bertie said with his trademark grin. “How could I pass up a chance to spend time with you?”

“Indeed,” Mornington said, with an air of amusement. “Chartley, I am surprised to see you here. I was under the impression that you were to remain in Amboyna as the interim governor.”

“There was a change of plans, sir,” Chartley said.

“I thought I was quite clear in my instructions. Who felt they had the authority to override them?” he asked, his annoyance quite clear.

“I did,” Granger said confidently. “Before I explain the circumstances, perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce me to this gentleman.” Granger gestured to the other man in the room. He was a severe looking man who was quite handsome. He had a rigid and dour countenance, one that tempted Granger badly, to see if the man could laugh, or even smile.

“This is my brother, Colonel Arthur Wellesley,” Mornington said, flustered that he’d been remiss in his duties as a host.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Colonel,” Granger said.

“The pleasure is most assuredly mine, my lord,” Wellesley said smoothly. When he spoke, it was as if his rigid façade yielded, letting the man behind the mask peek out, but not enough to let out more than just a peek.

“While I am certainly appreciative of your rank and your achievements,” Mornington said to Granger, “I fail to see why you are involved in Company affairs.”

“Sir Tobias Maidstone was sent out from London to relieve me, my lord,” Bertie said.

Mornington stared at Bertie, the shock on his face apparent. In fact, the news was so stunning that even Colonel Wellesley’s face twitched a bit. “That is most interesting,” he finally said. “And so he is serving as the governor of Amboyna?”

“No, my lord,” Bertie answered. Bertie went on to explain how Maidstone had arrived and attempted to take control of the island, and how Bertie had refused to yield the reins of government and company power. “As his credentials were not in order, I felt compelled to refuse his assertion that he was the new governor.”

“Quite so,” Mornington said.

“I was sent out from London to resolve this issue,” Granger said, now that Bertie had finished.

“On whose authority?” Mornington asked, obviously quite irritated that someone was presuming to interfere with what he perceived were his domains.

“His Majesty’s,” Granger said, trying not to sound smug. It was truly galling the way John Company personnel seemed to think they were still operating as they had a hundred years ago, when the company reigned supreme. Granger thought Mornington could really be more pleasant and less arrogant. “The way in which Sir Tobias was appointed caused great concern as to the true purpose behind sending him out here. I was charged by His Majesty, under a directive from His Majesty’s Privy Council, to take it upon myself to select the governor of Amboyna.”

“I see,” Mornington said, considerably mollified. He looked at Granger in a more considering way. It is not everyone who is given such sweeping powers by the government. “And whom did you leave in charge?”

“Captain Archibald Somers,” Granger said. “He has astute political instincts, a good relationship with the Dutch Resident, and is quite capable of administering the island.”

“I concur with my brother’s judgment, my lord,” Bertie said. “Captain Somers is an excellent candidate, and I am confident he will do a good job for the Company and for Britain.”

“Well, I have quite enough other things on my plate to worry about at the moment, so we will see how he does,” Mornington said. Granger thought that was less than gracious of him, since he really had no authority to override Granger’s appointment anyway. Granger pondered that Mornington could refuse to recognize Somers’ authority over Company affairs, but that would seem to be a politically inept move, one that Mornington was surely too astute to embrace. He opted to change the subject. “I have plans for you, Albert, plans that will keep you here in Calcutta. That way I can enjoy your charming company, and keep an eye on you.” That made the rest of them chuckle.

“What would you have me do, my lord?” Bertie asked.

“We need to set up a system to import opium to China, to ease the strain on our hard currency the China trade is causing. We intend that you will establish a trading house that will facilitate that. I expect it will be lucrative, but you are obliged to make sure it is lucrative not only to you, but to the Company as well.” So Bertie was to be the man charged with pumping opium into China. Granger hid his concerns about the ethics behind this scheme, knowing that Bertie wouldn’t be troubled by them at all. Evidently, neither was Mornington.

“I am at your service, of course, my lord,” Bertie said.

“In the mean time, it is vital that I return to England,” Granger said, changing the topic. He didn’t need to be involved in the details of Bertie’s new trading scheme. The less he knew about it, the better.

“I am sure we can find a ship to convey you,” Mornington said, annoyed at Granger again, as if Granger expected him to personally arrange Granger’s conveyance. Granger found that he was learning to dislike Mornington, who while he was an earl, was an Irish peer, and not a peer of Great Britain, like Granger. Granger was also well aware that his own pedigree and connections were considerably more prestigious than Mornington’s, and while Mornington reigned supreme here as the virtual Moghul, he had limited authority, at best, over Granger.

“My lord, Sir Tobias returned to England on board Lord Granger’s ship, the Bacchante,” Bertie said, and explained the details of Granger’s arrival with fever.

“I am glad to see that you recovered from that deadly malady,” Mornington said. Granger sensed a distinct lack of sincerity.

“It appears I am a hard man to kill,” Granger said, choosing to joke about it instead.

“I have recently drafted instructions for troops fighting in the tropics, my lord,” Colonel Wellesley said. “I would appreciate a chance to review them with you. On our recent expedition to the Philippines, the losses from fever were devastating.”

“I would be delighted to spend time with you, Colonel,” Granger said. He was finding Mornington’s brother to be much more interesting and charming.

“My lord,” Bertie intervened, getting them back on topic, “Sir Tobias stole my correspondence prior to sailing. It could be quite damaging if it were to make it back to England.”

“You were that careless with your letters?” Mornington asked, enraged. He clearly grasped the fallout that could come from revealing Bertie’s less than above-board dealings.

“I think, my lord, it was rather that Sir Tobias was that low and base as to steal another mans letters,” Bertie said firmly, standing up to Mornington on this point.

“On that we are most definitely in agreement,” Mornington said. “I am unclear as to why you are here, then. I would have thought you’d have chased after him.”

“Bacchante is a fast ship, and we would have had a poor chance to catch up with her,” Granger informed him. “So my plan is to return to England by way of the Levant, passing through the Mediterranean Sea to the Atlantic, where I will either intercept Bacchante, or precede her arrival in England.”

“That is an arduous journey for someone who has recently been unwell,” Colonel Wellesley noted. Granger found his concern quite touching.

“The preferred route is to transit via Aleppo and Baghdad,” Mornington said, brushing any concerns about Granger’s health aside.

“Yes, but it is not the fastest,” Chartley interceded. “I used the Sinai route when I last returned to London, and found it quick but arduous. There is another path that involves transiting the Nile. I am told it is just as fast, and not as strenuous. I have recommended that Granger try that route.”

“I do not see that it is in my purview to do anything other than speed you on your way, Granger,” Mornington said, and seemed happy to have Granger removed from his realm, as it were. Evidently Granger was just one more problem for Mornington to worry about.

“I have only to solicit passage,” Granger said. “I was hoping that Captain Raymond would be able to convey me in the Sultan.”

“You would use a Company ship?” Mornington asked acidly.

“I think that the Company’s best interests are served by me arriving in England prior to Bacchante,” Granger said, with just as bad grace. “In that case, I think it would be reasonable for the Company to assist me in my travels.” In other words, if Bertie’s letters damaged the government, they would most likely look for scapegoats. By delaying Granger, or failing to cooperate with him, Mornington could quite possibly put himself into that unenviable position.

“I do not think it is that inconvenient for Captain Raymond to convey you,” Mornington allowed.

“I am most appreciative,” Granger said, although his tone said he was anything but appreciative.

“Chartley, I have a mission for you as well,” Mornington said.

“It was my intention to return to England with Lord Granger,” Chartley said.

“That is certainly your decision, but I think you would be better served, as would the Company, if you postponed your return to England until after you have finished this one last project.” In other words, it would be lucrative enough to warrant Chartley staying here for a bit longer. Mornington seemed to sense Chartley’s dilemma, his obligation to Granger. “I have a man who is quite expert at traversing through Egypt. I will dispatch him to accompany Granger. I suspect that even as resourceful as you are, he is in the best position to be able to expedite His Lordship’s journey.”

Chartley glanced briefly at Granger, who gave him a brief nod, not to tell him to go, but to tell him that it was his choice. “I would like a day to ponder it,” he finally said.

“As a matter of fact, that is all the time I can give you. I want you to go to Canton. We have some affairs to work out in one of the hongs, and I need your skills to do it. In addition, your job is to firmly establish the other end of the opium trade in Canton. The Malacca is preparing to sail, and should leave on the morning tide.”

“Surely there are others who would be more skilled in such endeavors,” Chartley noted.

“You underestimate yourself,” Mornington said, and was actually charming as he did. Presumably that was because he was addressing Chartley, whom he needed to cajole into going off on this distant errand. “You are familiar with the key players in Canton, and you have a position that makes it hard for them to ignore. Even our competitors must defer to your rank.” Granger had to give Mornington credit; he certainly was a smooth flatterer when it served his purposes.

“Then I will give you my response by this evening,” Chartley said.

“In the meantime, Granger, I will endeavor to speed Raymond’s revictualling along, and summon your guide so you may meet him. If you are not comfortable with him, and you can find no alternatives, the Baghdad to Aleppo route is still an alternative.” Mornington suddenly seemed cooperative. The man was hard to read.

“Thank you for your help,” Granger said sincerely, to match Mornington’s demeanor.

“It will be my pleasure to offer you gentlemen the hospitality of Government House while you make arrangements to further your plans,” Mornington said. “I am hoping you will join me for dinner.” He summoned servants, who led them to their respective bedrooms.

“I think I will retire to my room and contemplate the future riches I will surely amass,” Bertie said playfully, making them laugh. He was merely being polite, giving Granger and Chartley a chance to discuss this change in plans.

Chartley followed Granger to his room and closed the door firmly before broaching the key topic. “I do not see that I have a choice but to accept Mornington’s assignment.”

“You are not employed by the Company, and you are not a part of the regiments here in India,” Granger noted. Chartley raised his eyebrow to challenge Granger’s assertion that he was not involved in Company affairs, since clearly he was. “At least you are not visibly, or formally, involved.”

“So you think I should return to England?” Chartley asked.

“I cannot, and I will not, make that decision for you,” Granger said firmly. “I am merely pointing out that the task which you feel you must inevitably tackle is in fact a choice you are making.”

“I am not sure that it really is,” Chartley said. “If I do not do as Mornington asks, he will raise hell about it in London. That is his way.”

“He is as delightful as a barrister,” Granger groused, letting his guard down around this man that he loved.

Chartley laughed. “He can be quite charming. He just does not appear to like you.”

“And that should make you question his judgment,” Granger said playfully.

“If you want me to return to England with you, I will gladly go,” Chartley said.

Granger’s brows narrowed, a sure sign of his irritation. “No. You will make this decision based on what you want, and what is best for you. I will not be made a party to it.”

“You do not believe in collective decision making?” Chartley joked, trying to cajole Granger out of the unpleasant mood he’d just exhibited.

“Ship captains are rarely so democratic,” Granger said, letting his anger fade. Then he got serious again. “I will support you in whatever you choose. If you want to go to Canton, you go with my blessing, not that you need it.”

“I need it, George. If I did not, we would not be having this conversation.”

“Conversely, if you choose to return to England, I will do my best to help you with political cover or fallout from your decision,” Granger said. He was adamant that Chartley view all his options and make an informed decision about this.

“I had impertinently assumed that to be the case before you even offered your assistance,” Chartley said.

“You are being charming so I will let you fuck me,” Granger teased, making Chartley laugh.

“On the contrary, I am being charming because I want you to make love to me,” he said. Granger raised an eyebrow, because Chartley usually preferred to be the penetrator. That he was planning a significant lovemaking session told Granger he had already made his decision.

“You are going to China?” Granger asked pointedly.

Chartley swallowed hard. “I am.”

“Then I will give you a spectacular sendoff,” Granger said, getting a broad smile from Chartley. “I must admit that this will certainly make Mornington happy, and that is enough to vex me.”

“He is not a bad chap, George. Give him a chance. We were catching him in an unpleasant situation.”

“He had just met me,” Granger said playfully. “Surely that was enough to make any situation pleasant.”

“Perhaps for his brother, but not for him,” Chartley said, raising his eyebrow.

“I know nothing of his brother, but he seems to be a decent sort,” Granger noted. “If a bit rigid.”

Chartley took Granger’s hand and placed it on his trousers, so Granger could feel his erect cock underneath. “Sometimes rigid is good.” Granger’s laugh was cut off as Chartley kissed him, and then made love to Granger. When they were done, lying on the bed panting, Chartley nuzzled his mouth into Granger’s neck, and then spoke softly into his ear. “Your turn comes later.”

It had been two days since Chartley had left, and Granger was miserably lonely without him here. That made him depressed and morose, but he was unwilling to let anyone see him in such a state, so he labored mightily to contain those emotions. He was fairly certain that he had failed when it came to Winkler and Jacobs, who knew him so well, and from Bertie, who pretended not to notice, but he contented himself by being cool and aloof to Mornington.

And as if that were not enough to test his patience to the limit, the guide who would take him to the Mediterranean had still not appeared. It was maddening to be in such a hurry yet to be compelled to sit idly by while waiting for this person to arrive. Granger found himself desperate for some sort of distraction, and it had arrived from a somewhat unexpected direction.

“I am glad you took me up on my invitation, my lord,” Colonel Wellesley said, interrupting Granger’s sad tangent. He had extended an invitation to Granger to inspect the local contingent of troops, and to dine with him at his residence, such as it was.

It was an inspection, and as such, Granger felt obligated to point out any errors, and he did in fact discover a few. They were minor issues, things like a slightly soiled tunic or a musket held incorrectly, but they had an interesting effect on Wellesley. On the one hand, he seemed surprised that Granger knew enough to find such flaws, a reaction Granger found irksome, even though he didn’t show Wellesley that he felt that way. In every ship Granger had commanded, and served on, there had been soldiers, a squad of marines, that adhered to the same basic drills and rules that these troops did. Granger was quite familiar with them and what they should look like. On the other hand, Wellesley was considerably annoyed that Granger found something wrong with his troops at all, something that tempted Granger to almost laugh out loud, if such a thing were thinkable.

“I am glad that I did as well,” Granger said, smiling, but only slightly. “Otherwise I would have missed this truly martial display, and your charming company.” Granger had an instinctive way of figuring out how to pull people out of their shells, and to charm them. With Wellesley, his normal, fully-charged charm offensive would be overwhelming. Rather, a calmer, gentler bit of humor and banter, along with softer facial expressions, seemed to better resonate with Wellesley.

They finished inspecting the troops, and he led Granger into the fort. “I have scheduled dinner for us in my quarters, my lord.”

“Do you normally invite peers back to your private quarters?” Granger joked.

“I rarely have an opportunity to entertain such distinguished gentlemen here in Calcutta,” Wellesley said, loosening up a bit.

He led Granger to his suite of rooms, which were quite the bachelor’s quarters, with a desk, a dining table, and separate sleeping quarters. They were very Spartan; clearly Wellesley was not much for creature comforts. “This is quite intimate,” Granger teased.

“I did not mean to offend Your Lordship,” Wellesley said stiffly, telling Granger he’d pushed a little too hard.

“I don’t recall saying I was offended,” Granger said, and gave Wellesley a grin.

“Intimate was certainly not my plan, my lord,” Wellesley said.

“That is almost disappointing,” Granger frowned, and was finally playful enough to get Wellesley to actually laugh. The orderlies came in and served them dinner, then cleared away the plates when they were done. “That was a truly exquisite dinner,” Granger said. He missed Lefavre’s cooking, and this was the closest he’d gotten to it since leaving Amboyna.

“You flatter me, my lord,” Wellesley said proudly, even though it looked like he was blushing slightly.

“It would seem that when we are having such a relaxed dinner in such an intimate environment, we should be allowed to use our Christian names,” Granger said.

“I only allow people with whom I’m having sex call me Arthur,” he joked, a sign of how much he’d loosened up around Granger.

“Indeed?” Granger asked. “You must show me the rest of your quarters.”

Wellesley got up and led Granger over to his desk, then showed Granger his sleeping quarters. “I think you have very nice quarters, Arthur,” Granger said.

Wellesley looked confused, then alarmed, and then finally, excited. He moved closer to Granger, and when Granger didn’t move away, he moved his lips tentatively toward Granger’s, so tentatively they barely touched. He seemed upset that he’d done that, and made to pull away, but Granger was having none of that. He grabbed the Colonel’s head and pulled them together for a very nice kiss.

Granger had never been with a man quite like Wellesley. He was so rigid and restrained, that when he let himself go, it was almost an explosion of passion. Granger felt as if the man was trying to devour him, but with Wellesley’s stoic personality as a counter to that, Granger found it erotic and quite attractive. Even more endearing was his evident lack of experience. Once they’d gotten beyond kissing and basic frottage, Wellesley seemed at a loss as to what to do. Granger had no such qualms, and he took over, guiding Arthur’s hands and his mouth. Granger almost laughed at Arthur’s dick, not because it was inadequate. Far from it. What was funny was that it was so much like his outward image. It was long, thin, and very very hard.

Then Granger made his first miscalculation; he inadvertently brought Arthur off too soon, using his amazing oral skills. As soon as he was finished ejaculating, the reserved and taciturn individual returned. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “That was very inappropriate.”

He made to get up and dress, but Granger stayed firmly in place, his body draped partially across Wellesley’s. “It most certainly was not inappropriate, and you most certainly should have done that,” Granger said, smiling. He melted, and gave Granger a soft smile. “Besides, you act as if the encounter were over. You can only have remorse when you are done.”

“But I am done, we are done. I have obligations…”

Granger shut him up with a kiss. “I will allot you a suitable period of time to recover, and then you will do your duty again in this bed. After that, I will release you to your other responsibilities.” He said this with a blend of authoritarianism and playfulness that made Wellesley laugh.

“I think it may be to my benefit to follow your orders.”

“You have no idea,” Granger said. He must not have gotten much carnal relief, Granger mused, because he was ready to go in short order. This time, Granger pushed all the boundaries by getting Arthur to fuck him. He was marginally reluctant at first, but as soon as he penetrated Granger, he became an animal. Granger had not expected this colonel to be such a satisfying lover, but he was, bringing Granger to one spectacular orgasm and then pressing on to get his own satisfaction. Granger was glad he was so thin, as that made such a prospect practicable.

Granger returned to Government House a little less sad, with more patience to handle the challenges ahead. It was as if a cloud had burst, and ensuing rain had cleansed his mood.