HMS Valiant - 2. Chapter 2

May 16, 1799

Cowes, England

George Granger looked at the beautiful home John Nash had built for him as the shore boat was rowed toward the Isle of Wight. Granger had received several acres on the Isle of Wight as a gift from his father, and while it included the barony of Ryde, most of the property was around Cowes. Granger had a chance meeting with John Nash on the island some two years ago, and he’d commissioned Nash to build a summer house for him, a place where he could come and enjoy the sea, and Nash had just completed the project this month.

Granger had seen the plans before he’d left, and had come down to Portsmouth a few times to inspect the progress since he’d gotten home, but even as construction drew to a close, it was hard to visualize it. Now, it stood complete, sitting serenely on the sloping hill. The side of the building facing Spithead was lined with ionic columns. These soared up the entire height of the home, which was composed of three levels , and supported the roof that covered the entire structure, and overhung two balconies and the terrace, which was in fact where the baths were located. The roof itself was not visible, hidden by stonework that created a lightly ornamented façade. The lowest level featured the baths, which occupied part of the lower level and most of the terrace. In that way, the baths only extended into the lower level in a small way, thus not impeding the activities of the servants who inhabited that region of the house. The second level contained the public rooms, which opened out onto a balcony. And the third level contained bedrooms, which opened up onto their own balcony. The facings of the building eschewed overly ornate decoration, opting instead for a more simple form, reflecting Nash’s Roman concept.

While the building itself was imposing, the grounds were perhaps even more impressive. Granger had not put a lot of thought into them, but Nash had. There was a large basin at a slightly lower level than the terrace, with a waterfall pouring into it, and fountains interspersed in the pool itself, spewing water in an impressive display, one that was visible from a relative distance as one approached the home.

The shore boat arrived at the dock and tied up to it firmly. Granger and his staff got out of the boat, while the crewmen unloaded his trunk. The dock was a very convenient feature, one which he’d neglected to specify, but one which Nash had put in anyway. He’d said that had made building the place easier, but Granger was prepared to believe it was also a thoughtful detail.

“Welcome, my lord,” Nash said.

“It is good to see you, Mr. Nash. I was under the impression you were already back in London,” Granger said.

“That was my intention, but I had a few details to finalize, my lord. I am pleased that it worked out this way, so I can show you your completed home.”

“It is most impressive from the water,” Granger noted.

“Aye, my lord, and it is the water that drives the design of the home,” Nash said. He led Granger up the steps, passing by the lower pond, where fountains spurted out water gleefully. “There are three bodies of water as part of this house. This is the lower basin.”

“It is exquisite,” Granger said. It reminded him of a smaller version of one of the fountains at Versailles. The basin was lined with white marble, and Greco-Roman sculptures were placed in a symmetrical fashion, spouting water out of one orifice or another.

Nash gestured to two of the statues. “Those are the fountains that were shipped here, courtesy of Sir William Hamilton, my lord. They are authentic Roman sculptures, saved from a much less impressive Italian venue, I am sure.”

“As there is no more impressive venue, that goes without saying,” Granger said with a smile. Sir William Hamilton was His Majesty’s ambassador to Naples. He’d sent Sir William a letter before he’d left, asking him to scout out Roman works that may suit this home. Evidently, he’d found some.

“We crafted the other statuary to mimic the style of the authentic ones,” he said.

“I think the craftsmen you hired did a job that is at least comparable to the ancient masters,” Granger said.

“Thank you, my lord. I will pass your compliments on to them,” Nash said. They walked onto the portico, where the shade would make this an ideal place to entertain during the summer months. Granger could sit here with his glass and study all the ships that entered and exited Portsmouth. He gazed out to where the Channel Fleet lay at anchor, pausing to admire this ultimate expression of British naval power.

Beyond the portico were the baths, which were larger than those at Brentwood and Portland Place combined. Twenty people could comfortably fit in the main pool, but it had ingeniously been divided so it would be possible for Granger and a few guests to bathe, with much less water to heat. There were two smaller pools for soaping and cleaning. The pools themselves, as well as the walls, were lined with marble and mosaic tiles, the tiles again reflecting the Roman motif Nash had used as his style guide. “These tiles and marble complement each other beautifully,” Granger observed.

“Aye, my lord. We imported the tiles from Italy as well,” Nash said. Shipping items that were bulky and heavy like tiles and statues cost a fortune, especially during wartime. It was no wonder this house had cost so much money.

They climbed the stairs to the main level, and walked out to the other side of the house, where the final basin lay. It was larger than either of the other basins, but it wasn’t as impressive, with no fountains or decoration to enhance its appearance. “This serves as a reservoir, my lord,” Nash explained. “It collects and stores fresh water at this level, which is then transmitted by pipes to the baths below. When the water is due to be changed in the baths, it is distributed through waterfalls or fountains into the lower basin. There is no need for pumping; gravity does the work for us.”

“An excellent design, Mr. Nash,” Granger said appreciatively.

Granger had promoted Jenkins, one of his footmen, to oversee this property as its butler. The poor man had only arrived here a week ago, and was still getting things organized. Granger watched as Jenkins was touring about anxiously with the construction crews and his staff, still learning how to operate the various devices. Granger explored the rest of the home, admiring the furnishings and the décor. “I hope you are pleased, my lord,” Nash said, concluding their tour.

“Mr. Nash, you have built what I wanted, when I had not even envisioned it myself. It is spectacular!”

“Thank you, my lord,” Nash said. “I hope you will not think me impertinent, but I am anxious to be on my way.”

“Of course not. I hope to see you in London,” Granger said. “And should you need a reference, someone to vouch for your skills; you have but to send them my way.”

“I am grateful, my lord,” Nash said, and then he left, taking the same shore boat back to town that had brought Granger and his party out here. There was a cutter moored to the dock, one for the use of the household, which was more than adequate for Granger’s own needs.

Granger spent more time exploring his new home, even as the staff scurried about, trying to avoid him so they could settle in. He had lost track of time, and it had been a long day, beginning with the coach ride to Portsmouth, so when he finally paused, he found that he was tired and hungry. He tracked Winkler down, and found him organizing his wardrobe. “I find that I am once again in your care, and starving as a result,” Granger said jovially.

“I am merely trying to condition Your Lordship for the rigors of sea duty,” Winkler said, making Granger chuckle. “They have sent out to the town for provisions, but this home is largely bereft of foodstuffs, my lord.” That was a mark against Jenkins, but Granger opted to give him a bit of slack, since he was grappling with a new job, a new house, and a new staff.

“I will trust you to come up with something, and I will be more than satisfied with something simple. Perhaps you can arrange for them to prepare the baths.”

“Of course, my lord,” Winkler said. While they were doing that, Granger relaxed in a chair on the portico, and pulled out his glass to study the Channel Fleet. Granger’s eyes were drawn to the massive first rates, the ultimate in naval power, each boasting at least 100 guns. The biggest of all was the Ville de Paris, of 110 guns. She was less than five years old, and was named after Admiral de Grasse’s captured flagship at the Battle of the Saints during the American Revolution. She was accompanied by the Royal Sovereign, the Royal George, and the Queen Charlotte, mounting 100 guns each. There were several second rates, and some of the 80-gun ships that Granger had come to appreciate after the Battle of the Nile. And finally there was the backbone of British sea power, the third-rate 74-gun ships of the line. There were several of these, and Granger inspected all of them, his practiced eye noting which ships were taught and orderly, and which ships bordered on being slovenly. As night fell, Granger went into his study and paused to gaze at the portrait of John Travers that hung there, dominating the room. He had been Granger’s mentor when he joined the Navy, and had become the first man Granger had loved. The painting depicted him fighting on the decks of Aurore, in a stylized version of the battle that had cost him his life. Granger took a minute to appreciate this man who had meant so much to him, then went to his desk. He found, amazingly enough, that there was a supply of his stationary and a pen. He jotted out a note to Pellew, inviting him to dinner tomorrow, and had it sent over to the Impetueux.

After a simple dinner, and some quality time in the huge baths, Granger had exhausted himself to the point that he had overcome his excitement over seeing his new ship, and was able to sleep soundly.

May 17, 1799

Portsmouth Dockyard, England

Granger was ushered into the office of Sir Charles Saxton, the man who oversaw the dockyard. Granger had attempted to head straight to his ship, but the marine guards had routed him here instead.

“Welcome, my lord,” Saxton said affably. He came from a merchant family, and had a reputation as a good administrator. He was old, some 67 years of age and with that age had come a conservatism, a distaste for innovation. But despite his years, he seemed alert enough.

“Thank you, Sir Charles,” Granger responded. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is most assuredly mine,” Sir Charles said. “I am sorry to detour you here, but I wanted the privilege of showing you your new command personally.”

“That is most courteous of you,” Granger said. Sir Charles nodded and led Granger out of his office and through the dockyard, past the slips where new ships were building, and the basins where ships were being repaired. They finally got to one of the piers, and there, tied up securely, was his new command, His Majesty’s frigate Valiant, of 44 guns.

She was long, slightly over 160 feet, and wide, with a beam of almost 45 feet. She was about 10 feet longer than Bacchante had been, and was a good five feet wider. Granger noted that her appearance was somewhat strange, especially at her stern, where the razeeing had left windows and galleries that seemed inordinately high. She appeared to be well on her way to completion, and even had her lower masts stepped in. There was no ornamentation, no gold leaf and no flourishes, as one would expect. That would be up to him to supply. “We are almost done with her, my lord,” Sir Charles said. “She needs her armament, and then she is yours to victual and commission.”

“You have worked quickly, Sir Charles,” Granger said. It had only taken them three months to complete the process. He strode confidently up the gangway, and once there he paused. There was no crew to summon, no officers to address, there were only the dockyard hands, along with Granger’s staff. Granger would have felt a bit ridiculous, as if he’d come home and found everyone had moved away, if he had not spied Meurice coming up from below to greet him.

“Welcome aboard, my lord,” he said, smiling.

“It is good to see you,” Granger said, grinning back. Then he adjusted his countenance to a more serious pose, pulled out his orders, and read them out loud, orders from the Admiralty, directing him to take command of the Valiant. From that moment forward, until he was relieved, he was legally the captain of His Majesty’s Ship Valiant.

“May good fortune be with you, my lord,” Sir Charles said, and then he left.

“Perhaps you can show me around, Mr. Meurice,” Granger said.

“Of course, my lord,” Meurice said. “You will find that your cabin is just aft of the mizzenmast.” Granger studied the odd set up, where a poop deck had been created, its sole purpose seemingly to provide a roof for his own cabin.

Granger looked at the scantlings, and at the poop deck, which was much thicker than normal for such a structure. “It’s a bit more substantial than usual.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Meurice said with a smile. “When Indefatigable was razeed, they found that her center of gravity was too low. Captain Pellew made some changes to try to fix that, but we have made more in Valiant.”

“Explain that,” Granger ordered.

“Certainly, my lord,” Meurice said. “The Indefatigable was cut away from her upper deck, and new sides were crafted to create the quarterdeck and focs’l. This was done to lighten her up. As we do not want to do that, but to make her heavier on top, we have left the original planking in place. So if you look at the sides, you will see they have the same substance as before, as when they sheltered 18-pounders on her main deck. And when you look at the poop deck, it was retained just as it was when it was the upper deck, merely sawn off.”

“And all this was done to maintain her strength, and to shift weight higher,” Granger mused. That was unusual in a ship; most of the time they were focused on lowering the center of gravity. His eyes migrated to the masts, and Meurice’s eyes followed his.

“When Indefatigable was re-rigged as a frigate, my lord, it caused severe problems. One of the other razees, Anson, almost foundered, rolling her masts out, so stiff did it make her. Captain Pellew insisted they replace Indefatigable’s rigging with the same masts she’d had as a ship of the line. The Navy Board argued with him, but ultimately lost, and that was how she was made into a sound vessel. He also asked that they move the masts back, but they chose not to do that. They did with the Valiant.”

Granger took a more objective look at the ship, and he could see what Meurice was saying. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that Meurice pointed it out, it was clear that the masts were repositioned. “Do you think Captain Pellew was correct?” Granger thought Pellew could be arrogant and a bit boorish, but had a reputation as being a superb seaman.

“I do, my lord. He has been here, and toured this ship, and seemed to approve of the modifications,” Meurice said. “You will notice that on the quarterdeck and the focs’l, there are 42-pounder carronades, except for the foremost two, which are smashers.”

“They are quite substantial,” Granger said.

“Indeed, my lord. When we load them in, she will have 26, 24-pound cannon on her main deck, in addition to these 16, 42-pound carronades and two, 68-pound carronades on her upper decks. It is a sizeable broadside.”

“There aren’t many frigates that can stand up to her in battle,” Granger noted.

“That is true, my lord,” Meurice said. “Especially when you look at her scantlings. She was built to be a ship of the line, and she is as stout as if she still were.”

Granger nodded, even as he walked over and put his hand on the side, feeling the strength of these wooden walls. “I have secured permission from Lord Spencer to fit her with iron water tanks, just as we did Bacchante,” Granger said. “I am worried, though, that it will adjust her weight lower again.”

Meurice smiled at him. “When I heard you were to be given command of the Valiant, my lord, I arranged with a local ironmaker to have tanks crafted for her. The measurements are delivered, and it only requires your approval to have them crafted. We can install them within the next month.”

“That is excellent work,” Granger said, genuinely pleased. “I would suspect we should plan to be ready for sea within six weeks, perhaps less.”

“I think that is realistic, my lord,” Meurice agreed, and then addressed Granger’s other concern. “I have done some calculations, and I do not think that the tanks will stiffen the ship. The only challenge we may have is that if we are at sea for long periods of time, and our water is low, that may leave us too light.”

“Because we won’t have more ballast,” Granger noted. “How would you solve that problem?”

“I think that it may not be a problem, but if it is, we can fill the tanks, or a few of them, with seawater. It will make the subsequent watering an unpleasant task, but it will work.” Putting saltwater into iron tanks was a dodgy business, because eradicating the salt was never easy, even with a lot of flushing. Then there was an increased risk for corrosion to consider. But if it meant the ship would be stable, it would have to be done.

“It would seem that much of this will have to be experimental, until we get her to sea and evaluate how she does,” Granger said.

“Of course, my lord,” Meurice said. “There are two other innovations on this ship. I think you will appreciate both of them.”

“And have these innovations been approved by the Navy Board?” Granger asked with a raised eyebrow.

“They have not, so we will have to hope that Your Lordship approves of them,” Meurice said. Granger smiled at him, and was genuinely glad to have him on board. Granger liked new and innovative things, and enjoyed experimenting with them, something he attributed to his young age. Older, grizzled captains and admirals tended to be less receptive. But it was the new technologies, like the use of carronades, that had given Britain the edge in the last war, so it was important to keep an open mind.

Meurice led them aft into Granger’s cabin. His cabin was directly off the quarterdeck, so when he was needed, there would be no ladder to climb, he would merely have to walk out his door. He was taken aback by how large it was. “Quite a bit bigger than we’re used to, my lord,” Winkler said.

“It is the captain’s cabin of a ship of the line,” Granger noted, feeling a bit pretentious in such imposing quarters. “You will be busy finding enough furnishings for it.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage, my lord,” Winkler said. But of all the things Granger noticed, the one that most caught his eye was the height of the deck above his head. Small ships had low ceilings, and he’d been able to stand upright in his cabin in Bacchante and Belvidera provided he wasn’t wearing a hat. This cabin had much more headroom.

“And now, my lord, to show you your first surprise,” Meurice said. He led Granger into the larboard gallery, which was quite beautiful but for a large iron stove in the corner, one that was adjacent to his sleeping quarters. “This is a stove, for warmth, and for light cooking.”

“Surely it can’t be safe to have a fire burning in my cabin,” Granger said, horrified.

“Not just any fire, my lord. This stove has been designed for shipboard use. It uses either wood or coal, and the fuel is securely lodged in a chamber such that it cannot fall out; and it is bolted firmly to the deck.” Meurice demonstrated to Granger and Winkler how the stove worked, and how it was loaded. “In action, I would submit that it would make a most compelling shield from enemy fire.”

Granger nodded. It would most likely be impervious to even large cannon balls, although they would probably be able to knock it off its mooring bolts with a few good hits. “I wish I would have had such a device when we traversed Cape Horn,” he said.

“It would have made drying your clothes much easier as well, my lord,” Winkler agreed.

Meurice handed Granger an envelope, made of the best stationery one could acquire. “This stove was a gift, my lord.”

Granger looked at the note, and recognizing the handwriting made him smile. He opened it and read it quickly.

Dear George,

It has been a joy to have you here at home. As you take up your new command, and commit yourself to the cold and stormy seas, I hope that this stove will help to keep you warm. Perhaps it will remind you of London, and of those, like me, who cherish your friendship.

Cavendish.

It was an incredibly thoughtful gift, one that immediately brought back to Granger the conflicts he would face when he went to sea. He would fall into that abyss where instead of having his wife and friends close, and the sea luring him to her; he would have the sea, with his friends and family far away. He pushed those unpleasant thoughts aside by focusing on more practical implications. Ordering and installing this stove was not something that was done quickly. This had to have been planned for at least a few weeks, probably longer. Cavendish had known he was to take command of the Valiant that long ago? He grimaced internally at the thought of how politically savvy these people that he loved were, that they could hide such secrets without him knowing.

“It is a wonderful present,” Granger said, putting the note into his pocket. He took a few minutes with Winkler to plan the layout of his cabin, mostly mirroring the way he’d set things up in Bacchante. Besides a small cabin for the master, a chartroom, and sleeping quarters, Granger opted to leave the great cabin largely open. It would make the space seem larger, and would make entertaining that much easier and grander.

Meurice led them down to the gun deck, which looked unsurprisingly empty without its 24-pounders. He led Granger over to one of the knees, which had a peculiar thing attached to it. “You will notice, my lord that this knee was not in the best of shape.”

It looked like it had sagged considerably from the strain of holding up the deck with all of its artillery, and fighting the ocean, for many years. Yet for some reason, it was now holding its position as if it were new. “I would have thought it would need to be replaced.”

“Ideally, that is so, my lord. As you know, timber is in very short supply, or at least good timber is. And the best timber is required for knees. To acquire replacement knees requires a great deal of effort,” Meurice said. He meant bribes, as there would be huge demands on limited knees, both to build new ships and to repair old ones. “This is a new innovation that is supposed to solve the problem.”

“Indeed?” Granger asked. “And what is this?”

“It is an iron bar that is attached to the knee and to the side of the ship with iron bolts, my lord” Meurice said. “It was developed by a man I worked with at Chatham, a man named Roberts, who has not had an opportunity to test them out.”

Granger frowned. It was one thing to experiment with iron water tanks and iron stoves, where if they did not work, the damage could be minimized. But if a knee or two failed, that was a very dire problem. Granger was of a mind to demand that these contraptions be removed and that the knee be replaced, but he stopped himself. Meurice was a man that had vast experience working with ships, and had shown a marked brilliance in identifying devices that could be useful. It would be reasonable to trust his judgment. “That would seem to be a risky undertaking.”

“And of course, my lord, the decision is yours. We have ten knees in this ship that are in bad shape. I had approached Sir Charles about replacing them, and the dockyard inspected them and pronounced them to be adequate.” In other words, it would require a pitched battle, and several bribes on Granger’s part, to get the knees replaced. “It was also explained to me that replacing them would take a considerable amount of time, possibly as long as four to six months.”

“So you are saying that I have little choice in the matter,” Granger noted. “If I declare the knees to be defective, I do so in opposition to the dockyard, which has certified that they are not. And I must then explain to Their Lordships that I have chosen to delay the completion of this vessel by some four to six months solely to satisfy my own assertions.”

“That is correct, my lord,” Meurice said. “This seemed like a good solution. If Roberts’ braces do not work, we are no worse off than we would have been. And if they do, perhaps we can revolutionize how ships are built in the future.”

Granger pondered that. “I have learned to trust your instincts, Mr. Meurice. Your recommendations have contributed significantly to the performance and health of both Belvidera and, before her loss, of Bacchante.”

They went lower in the ship, then, into the hold. It did not smell as bad as it could have, but it was not as fresh as Bacchante’s had been. Then again, Bacchante had been a new ship, and Valiant had endured years of nasty bilge water flowing around in her hold. “You can see, my lord, that I have already had them begin laying the runners down to hold the water tanks,” Meurice said. “We will have an opportunity to do some additional cleaning down here before they are installed.”

“I think that is good news for all of us,” Granger joked. “I am expecting the arrival of officers shortly, but we will also need a crew. I will send for the men at the Abbey who wish to join us, and as soon as we have established a core of petty officers, we will begin recruiting.”

“That has been tough, my lord,” Meurice said. “Manning the fleet is truly one of the biggest challenges I hear captains complaining about.”

“We will have to hope I have better luck than they do,” Granger said. They heard some commotion on the upper deck, so they climbed the ladders up to see what was going on. Granger strode onto the quarterdeck and was surprised to find Pellew standing there, along with two other men. One appeared to be his coxswain, and the other was a lieutenant.

“I hope you will forgive this intrusion, my lord,” Pellew said with a courtly bow. He was being very polite, something that put Granger on his guard.

“A visit from you is never an intrusion, Sir Edward,” Granger said politely, returning the gesture. “I fear that you have caught me at a time when I can offer you no refreshments, as I have not even a desk on board yet.”

Pellew chuckled. “That is the price I pay for being so rude as to call on you on the very same day you assume command of this vessel.”

“I have just been exploring her, and I understand that I owe many of her advanced features to your experience and guidance,” Granger replied, fueling Pellew’s not inconsiderable ego. “I had hoped to glean more from you by luring you to dinner.”

“Alas, I must regrettably decline your invitation,” Pellew said. “We have been ordered to St. Helen’s Roads, and are to go to sea at dawn tomorrow.”

“That is bad news both for me, and the French,” Granger said. “I will take no offense as long as you provide me with an opportunity to entertain you when next we are both in port.”

“Or at sea, if you are attached to the Channel Fleet,” Pellew said with a grimace, as if that were the worst duty imaginable. “But I have brought you a consolation prize, as it were.”

“Indeed?”

“Allow me to introduce you to Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower,” Pellew said, gesturing at one of the young men with him. He was on the tall side, and so skinny that his ill-fitting uniform seemed to hang on him as a scarecrow’s garment would. He had brown hair, a rather handsome face, and must have been in his mid-twenties. That his uniform was so ill-fitting, while at the same time being obviously new, suggested to Granger that the young man was probably one of the many impoverished officers trying to make their way in the Navy. A quick glance at his shoes, and their pinchbeck buckles, all but confirmed that.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” Hornblower said nervously.

Granger smiled at him, attempting to disarm the young man, but it did not seem to have an effect. “As it is for me, Mr. Hornblower.” He then looked back to Pellew for an explanation.

“Mr. Hornblower served as one of my midshipmen when I commissioned Indefatigable. He is currently awaiting transit to the Mediterranean, where he is to join the Marguerite. Since he is not currently employed, I thought he may be of some use to you as you get ready for sea, and he can perhaps share some of our knowledge in dealing with razees like the Valiant.”

“We would be most appreciative of your ideas, Mr. Hornblower,” Granger said gracefully, even as he wondered what kind of creature Pellew had temporarily saddled him with. “We will endeavor to get you to the Mediterranean when we can.”

“Thank you, my lord,” he said seriously. Granger wondered if the man ever laughed, or even smiled.

“Where are you lodging?” Granger inquired.

“I have rooms here in town,” he said, and seemed very uncomfortable. They must be somewhat seedy lodgings.

“I would make it a condition of you joining us here that you stay with me, at least until Valiant is habitable.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Hornblower said.

Granger turned to Pellew, who was anxious to depart. “Captain, it was a singular courtesy you did to come call on me, and to bring me such a wonderful gift, even as the fleet prepares to depart.”

Pellew walked to the other side of the deck, to speak with Granger alone. “It is as much for Hornblower as for you, my lord. He has been in prison, in Spain, and is just now re-acclimating to being home. This will give him a job to do.”

“I daresay I will keep him busy,” Granger said.