HMS Valiant - 3. Chapter 3

May 17, 1799

HMS Valiant

Portsmouth, England

Granger had spent the day on his new ship, and even though he still had much to do, his growling stomach told him it was time to head back to Cowes. “Mr. Hornblower! Jacobs!” Granger called.

“My lord?” Hornblower answered for both of them, as was appropriate.

“Jacobs, I want you to go back with Mr. Hornblower to his lodgings and help him bring his chest back to Cowes,” Granger said to Jacobs. “You can take one of the men to assist you.”

“That really won’t be necessary, my lord,” Hornblower said. Granger had been impressed by the young man, impressed enough that if he had a vacancy for a lieutenant, he would have snatched him up. He could also tell from his uniforms that Hornblower was relatively impoverished. Granger had carefully avoided looking at Hornblower’s shoes, with their pinchbeck buckles and inferior leather; at his stockings, which were clearly not of fine silk; at the cut of his uniform, which was adequate at best; and at the gold lace that adorned it, which had a sheen that belied its cheapness. Granger suspected that Hornblower’s apprehension over Jacobs going with him most likely revolved primarily around the neighborhood his lodgings must be located in.

“Please do not contradict my orders, Mr. Hornblower,” Granger snapped.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Hornblower said, abashed.

“You can take a shore boat over to the house,” Granger added. That would cost Hornblower some precious coins, but Granger could hardly insult him by handing him money, so Granger worked around that. He gave Jacobs some money. “I’m sure Jenkins would be pleased if you could acquire a few loaves of fresh bread. That will cover the expense of those loaves, in addition to the boat fare.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Jacobs said.

“Then I will see you shortly,” Granger said, dismissing them. He watched as they left the ship. “We will attempt to provide you with some company in the near future,” he said to Meurice.

“I am quite content here, my lord,” Meurice said. “And it is peaceful without the young gentlemen you will no doubt saddle me with.” He had set up his cabin in the wardroom quite nicely, and had politely refused Granger’s offer to stay with him. That was appropriate, since as the Master, Meurice should be with the ship, although an exception could be made during a refit.

“No doubt,” Granger said with a grin. He then left the ship and boarded his cutter for Cowes.

“A busy day, my lord,” Winkler said.

Granger smiled. “Aye, but a productive one. I fear that I have worn down my fingers with all the writing I have done.”

“You are good with both a pen and a sword, my lord,” Winkler noted.

“When we arrive home, I will want to wait for supper until Mr. Hornblower and Jacobs return, and then I will show Mr. Hornblower the baths.”

“Of course, my lord,” Winkler said. They arrived back at Cowes to find things much more organized than yesterday. Granger retired to his study to write a letter to Caroline, telling her of his ship, and then to Cavendish, to thank him for the stove. He had just finished that document when Winkler entered.

“My lord, your supper is ready. Mr. Hornblower has returned, and is waiting for you in the dining room.”

“Thank you, Winkler,” Granger said. “Please see that these letters are sealed, and dispatched to London with the others.” Granger had put together a packet of all his correspondence for the day.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Winkler said. Granger smiled at him as he strode past him and through the house to the huge dining room. Caroline must have had some input into this part of the house, or perhaps Nash just assumed he would host large dinner parties.

“Welcome, Mr. Hornblower,” Granger said pleasantly. The two of them were seated at one end of the large table.

“Thank you, my lord. You have a beautiful home,” he said, his eyes flowing up the walls, with their beautiful paneling.

“I’m glad you think so. I just saw it completed for the first time yesterday. My father gave me this plot of land, and it seemed ideal for a summer house. I can sit on my veranda and spy on the Channel Fleet.” That made Hornblower chuckle, an outburst which seemed to make him uncomfortable. For such a handsome and intelligent young man, he seemed uneasy in his own skin. He reminded Granger a bit of Arthur Wellesley, with his rigidly stoic mannerisms. “After supper, I will show you the best feature.”

“My lord?”

“There are baths on the lower level. I find soaking in fresh water to be both relaxing and restorative,” Granger said.

Hornblower smiled, a gesture that seemed odd on his normally severe face. “I have enjoyed a salt water bath many a time, my lord, with the wash deck pump.”

“It is an unusual habit, but one that I indulge in as well. I also require my officers and men to bathe regularly, and I have found that the emphasis on hygiene and cleanliness increases the overall efficiency of a ship,” Granger said. Bathing regularly was still not universally applauded, especially among the lower classes. Beau Brummel’s obsession with cleanliness had made it more of a fashion with the upper classes.

“I can see how it would, my lord,” Hornblower said thoughtfully.

“Where are you from?” Granger asked.

“From Kent, my lord,” Hornblower said. “My father was a doctor.”

“An excellent profession,” Granger said, even though he had no use for most physicians. Dr. Jackson had been an incredibly lucky find for Granger, both for his ship, and his person. The staff brought out food, and Granger smiled as Hornblower seemed to waver between sating his hunger, which was huge, and focusing on his manners. “I understand you spent some time in Spain?”

“Yes, my lord, although I fear I did not receive as pleasant a reception as you did when you went to the Alhambra,” he said, showing some charm. “I was captured prior to the Battle of St. Vincent, and remained a prisoner in El Ferrol until recently.”

“How did they capture you?”

“We were sailing in a fog, and a patch of it cleared to show us in the midst of the Spanish fleet, my lord,” he said sadly. “I had no choice but to surrender.”

“There is no dishonor in striking your colors to such a superior force, although it is irritating nonetheless,” Granger said soothingly, making Hornblower chuckle. “I wonder if that was the same night I sailed through their fleet?”

“No, my lord, that was a few nights later. I was on board one of the Spanish ships when that happened. You created quite a bit of chaos,” he said with a grin.

“As I am wont to do,” Granger joked. “So how did you escape? Were you exchanged?”

“I was held in El Ferrol, my lord, and it was rather unpleasant until I received word that I had been promoted to lieutenant. After that, I was allowed parole. There was a storm, and a ship trying to enter port was wrecked on some of the outlying rocks. I assisted in the rescue of the crew, and the Spanish rewarded me by releasing me.”

“You must have impressed them with your bravery,” Granger said. He knew the Spanish were honorable, but he also knew that they would not release Hornblower without good reason. Clearly this rescue he described so dismissively was much more heroic than he was letting on.

“It seemed to be the right thing to do, my lord,” Hornblower said modestly. Granger appreciated that; modesty was something he valued in himself and others. He mused that it was odd that such a man, so unwilling to crow about his achievements, would have a name such as Hornblower.

“And did you learn Spanish?” Granger asked in that language.

“I did, my lord,” he replied in the same tongue. “It was not so hard, as it is similar to French.” They continued to enjoy a nice dinner conversation, mostly in Spanish, then Granger dismissed him to change for the baths.

Granger arrived first, and availed himself of one of the dressing rooms to hang up his robe. He descended into the deliciously warm water, savoring the feel as it explored the crevices of his body. Hornblower came out in his robe, and Granger directed him to one of the changing rooms. When he came out, Granger forced himself not to stare, but it was difficult. He scanned Hornblower’s body quickly, noting the large patch of dark brown pubic hair that dwindled to nothing as it approached his navel. He was largely devoid of hair besides that, and the patches of dark brown hair under his arms. Even his legs were sparsely covered.

“You will find the water warm,” Granger said, inviting Hornblower to join him. As he descended into the pool, Granger focused on his face. It was ironic that Granger noted features in Hornblower that he had found in two of his previous lovers. Hornblower had a long, straight nose, but there was a bit of a bridge in between his eyes, reminding him of John Travers, his first love. And Hornblower’s upper lip was pointed and curved, much like Calvert’s, only not as pronounced, and certainly not as playful. Granger tried not to let reminders of Calvert irritate him.

Just when Granger had written Hornblower off as a hopelessly dour individual, he smiled broadly, exposing double dimples at the corners of his mouth. “This is wondrous, my lord.”

“I am glad you like it,” Granger said, as Hornblower sank into the welcoming water. “I first encountered these in Antigua, where my grandfather had them installed. I have made it a point to have a bathing pool in my home in London, at Brentwood, and now here.”

“I have not experienced anything like this, my lord,” he said. “Do you mind me asking how they work?”

Granger smiled at this nascent engineer. When he’d bathed with other men, it had usually been romantic, or at least lustful, but with Hornblower, it devolved into a discussion on how the baths were heated, how the water was changed, and the like. When they got out to go into the soaping pool, Granger followed Hornblower, admiring his cute ass with small dimples in the cheeks. They completed bathing, then dried and put on their robes to retire and rest for another busy day.

May 22, 1799

HMS Valiant

Portsmouth, England

The life of a captain was not all about battles, ordering men about, and fighting storms. In fact, Granger thought ruefully, the life of a captain more often involved managing stores, reviewing ledgers, and writing reports, which was exactly what he was doing at that moment. A knock on his cabin door heralded the arrival of Garret Weston, Valiant’s first lieutenant. He had joined Granger a few days after Granger had arrived in Portsmouth, and together they had begun the work of getting Valiant ready for sea.

Granger had first served with Weston on board Bacchante, and he had not changed much since that first meeting. Weston was probably the tallest officer in the Navy, towering well over six feet. Granger would have expected him to be stooped over as a result of time spent below decks, but he was not. He had good, erect posture, and unlike many tall men, he was well formed and not lanky. In fact, his well-fed but not fat body had a general fullness to it, one that was not inconsistent with his round face. When Weston smiled, which was often since he was a happy fellow, his face got even rounder still. “Good morning, my lord,” he said, his melodic voice filling the cabin in a soothing way. It was a voice that when it sang was deep and beautiful.

“I think it would be better if I were up and about, working on the ship, rather than tackling these damnable reports,” Granger said.

Weston chuckled. “Perhaps Mr. Andrews will arrive soon and take some of that burden off your shoulders, my lord.”

“He is to arrive today, as a matter of fact,” Granger said. “But I fear I will still have to tackle a goodly amount of this myself.”

“Mr. Meurice said that the first two water tanks should arrive tomorrow, my lord,” Weston said.

“That was fast,” Granger noted with surprise.

“My understanding, my lord, is that they wanted to send us two over so we could prepare lodgings to hold them, and so they could make sure they were designed and fitted properly,” Weston said. The ironworkers clearly did not want to craft the whole set until they were sure the prototypes fit perfectly.

“A wise course of action,” Granger noted. “But until Andrews arrives here with some men, we are short the labor needed to even hoist the tanks aboard.”

“Perhaps we will get lucky, my lord, and the recruiting posters will attract some men,” Weston said.

Those had been put up yesterday, and they had yielded no results so far. Granger knew he’d get some volunteers, but whether it would be enough to man his ship, he did not know. “We will have to hope for the best,” he said fatalistically.

“I could see if we can get some men from the press, my lord,” Weston offered.

Granger saw that as a method of last resort. Even with obscene bribes, he’d end up with mostly landsmen and felons from the press gang. “Let’s see how we do with our voluntary efforts.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said. “When we screen the men, how diligent should we be in our quest for deserters?”

That was a very touchy subject. Men who did not like duty aboard one ship could risk severe punishment by deserting, but even when they did, they usually chose to hide by joining a different ship. “I think that if they appear on board this ship, we will assume that they have not deserted,” Granger said with a sly grin. There were some captains who were militant about ensuring they did not allow deserters to join their crews, but with the exigencies of manning a ship, most turned a blind eye. Granger was of the opinion that if a man risked virtually everything to flee from a bad ship, that did not make him a bad seaman. Like most of his colleagues, he let the other captains worry about keeping their men.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said. “I’ve been making a list of things to accomplish before we sail, but aside from some supplies and victuals which we will need to acquire, most of that will simply require time and manpower.”

“Then let us hope we can drum up some of both those things,” Granger said. “We need to adorn our ship; she is much too plain.”

“Indeed we do, my lord,” Weston agreed.

“I will work on that when Hercule and Andrews arrive,” he said. Hercule was the boatswain, while Andrews was the purser. Between them, and Meurice, they should be able to provide enough gold leaf and ornamentation to make Valiant glitter.

“Excellent, my lord,” Weston agreed. When Granger did not start a new line of conversation, Weston recognized that he’d been dismissed, and exited Granger’s cabin. Granger returned to his work, hoping that Andrews and his men would arrive soon. He knew that Clifton was still in London, and would arrive within the next two days. Eastwyck had sent him a letter from up north, near the Scottish border, requesting permission to join the ship in a fortnight. His family had evidently decided to marry him off, and had found a suitable bride, so Eastwyck would be busy. Granger found that as much as he enjoyed the young lieutenant, his feelings for him were not deeply romantic, so the thought of him bedding his new wife did not elicit the slightest twinge of jealousy. He’d sent Eastwyck a note of congratulations along with orders to appear in Portsmouth in two weeks.

A slight bit of commotion on the quarterdeck distracted Granger, especially when he heard the formal stomping of boots. He thought of going out to see what was going on, but opted to let the commotion come to him instead, as it were. That happened in almost no time at all. A knock on his door was followed by the entry of Weston, followed by a man wearing the red uniform of the army. The man wore a single epaulette to mark him as a major, and based on those two clues alone, Granger deduced that this must be the man who would command his marines.

“My lord, this is Major Treadway,” Weston said, then stepped aside to fully reveal this new officer. Granger had been fortunate to have handsome men on board his ship, but Treadway was beyond that: he was beautiful. He was slightly shorter than Granger, probably around 5’ 10” in height, with his impeccable uniform fitting his slim body like a glove. Granger allowed himself to let his eyes focus briefly on Treadway’s calves, which bulged out in a sexy way, then moved back to his face. His long face seemed to make a gentle “V” shape as it descended to his chin, which was round and smooth, just like the tip of his nose. His skin was lightly tanned and smooth, completely free of blemishes, which was rare in a society where smallpox was still not uncommon, and the other ravages of life usually exacted a toll on that fabric that covered men’s bodies. His hair was brown, the kind of brown that could be light or dark depending on how exposed to the sun it was, with slightly darker and somewhat full eyebrows. His thin lips almost mirrored the shape of each of his eyes, which were so narrow he appeared to be almost squinting, yet behind those eyelids were two brown orbs that sparkled with animation, belying the calm manner he exhibited. Granger could not detect the emotion they shielded, only that they shielded emotions. He guessed that Treadway was about the same age as he was, but it was possible that he was slightly younger.

“Major The Honorable Robert Treadway,” the man said formally, yet with even more rigidity than one would expect. “I’ve been ordered to command your marine detachment, my lord.”

“Welcome aboard, Major,” Granger said, mirroring his tone, then turned to Weston. “I will interview Major Treadway, then I would be obliged if you would make sure he is accommodated in the wardroom.”

“Of course, my lord,” Weston said, then recognizing that he’d been dismissed, he exited Granger’s cabin. Granger looked at Treadway, who was not just rigid, he was clearly uptight.

“Join me,” Granger said to Treadway in a more friendly tone, in an attempt to make the man seem more comfortable. It did not seem to have any impact, even as Granger led him over to the seating area in his gallery. The windows were open, and a gentle breeze blew pleasantly through the cabin. Granger poured them both a glass of wine, and handed one of the glasses to Treadway.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said.

“Have you served on board one of His Majesty’s vessels before?” Granger asked.

“No, my lord,” he said. “I have tried to familiarize myself with the customs and rules, so I am confident that I will be able to perform my duties.”

“My question did not imply that you would not,” Granger said. “What service have you seen?”

Treadway embarked on a rather detailed discussion of where he’d served, and Granger was impressed that he’d spent a great deal of time in the Household regiments. His resume was that of a young man who came from a noble family with little means. They had enough cash and influence to get him into a good regiment, but not enough to buy him one. “I was part of the Quiberon expedition, my lord, and that has caused me some problems, and led me to spend the past two years largely unemployed.”

“What happened?” Granger asked.

“My lord, I commanded a small force of men from my regiment, the 56^th foot,” he said.

“The West Essex regiment?” Granger asked.

“Yes, my lord,” he said. “I was attached to one of the French Émigré divisions. When the Republicans attacked, they largely cut us off, so we were isolated. I received orders to fall back, which was our only real option at that point. I transmitted those orders to the commander, and we retreated. Unfortunately, that exposed our entire flank.”

“Did you not realize that would happen?” Granger asked. He could see the sadness and frustration in Treadway’s eyes.

“My lord, the entire position was doomed. We assumed that our orders to withdraw immediately were part of an orchestrated plan to do so, so the flank we were defending was, in our minds, moving with us.” He took a drink of wine. “It was confusing, with orders flying around in two languages, and the Royalist army largely disorganized anyway. It was composed of a combination of peasants and former officers, but the command was very top heavy. Everyone was in charge, and no one was in charge. Every time someone gave an order, he had to justify it by summarizing his ancestry.”

“So when you retreated, and things fell apart, the only thing the émigrés could agree on was that you were responsible?” Granger asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Yes, my lord,” Treadway said, and for the first time, he allowed himself to smile, exposing gorgeous teeth, which were even more rare than his unblemished skin. “I am not one to abandon a position, but I am also not willing to let my men die for nothing.”

“I would not expect otherwise,” Granger said. “The First Lord told me of your connection to him through Lady Spencer, and asked me to take you on board to command my marines.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Granger recognized that this man needed to know that Granger had confidence in him.

“I am indebted to Lord Spencer. Without his intervention, my lord, I fear I would find myself in the West Indies or India,” he said.

“In India, you could make your fortune,” Granger said.

“I am told, my lord, that is just as likely serving with you,” Treadway said. Now that he was loosening up, his smile was playful, almost mischievous.

“Let us hope that my luck in that regard continues,” Granger said affably. “I fear that you are here to command marines that have not yet arrived.”

“My lord, at the risk of vexing you, I have made arrangements to rectify that problem.”

“Indeed?” Granger asked cautiously.

“I have been able to round up a complement of seventy-five men from the 56^th foot, my lord. I can have them here by tomorrow,” Treadway said.

“These are men who served with you at Quiberon?”

“Yes, my lord,” he said.

“And they are willing to serve with you again, even after the stain to your reputation?” Granger asked.

“They were there, my lord. They saw what happened, and they knew we had no choice,” Treadway said, a hint of defiance in his voice. Granger was of a mind to tell Treadway he’d find his own marines. Men who were loyal to Treadway to such a degree that they would follow him from command to command may very well be loyal to Treadway first and foremost. There was the concern that they may in fact be willing to follow Treadway’s orders over Granger’s. On the other hand, it was very impressive that Treadway was able to encourage that kind of loyalty in his men, and from a practical level, since Granger had no men of his own yet, this made manning the ship much easier.

“I don’t suppose part of this force could constitute a band?” Granger asked.

Treadway smiled, knowing now that Granger would allow him to bring his men aboard. “As a matter of fact, my lord, that is one of the reasons these men remained with me. Almost all of them play an instrument.”

“So after Quiberon, these men were largely relegated to band duties,” Granger said.

Treadway’s expression sank a bit. “Yes, my lord.” So this opportunity was a chance for Treadway’s men as much as it was for Treadway.

“Well that is certainly a wonderful coincidence, since we are lacking a band, and I appreciate good music. Do you play an instrument?”

“I play the flute, my lord,” he said.

“As do I,” Granger said. “I look forward to hearing you play.”

“It is one of the things I am good at, my lord,” he said with a flirtatious smile.

“Hopefully over the course of this commission, I will be able to discover all of your talents,” Granger said.

“I will make myself fully available to Your Lordship,” he said. Granger raised his eyebrow slightly, but Treadway just looked boldly into his eyes, in a very direct and compelling way. Granger felt it was important to change the subject. He found himself so drawn to this marine officer it was making him feel mildly uncomfortable.

“We are expecting the arrival of the first of our water tanks tomorrow, and we will need enough men to lift them into the hold,” Granger said. “The sooner you can bring your men here, the better.”

“Then if Your Lordship will give me leave to depart at once, I will see if I can arrange for them to arrive tomorrow morning,” he said, with a sense of urgency.

“That would be splendid, Major. I will see you back here tomorrow morning.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said, standing up with marine precision. Granger smiled at his usage of the nautical term, and watched him leave, admiring how well he looked from the back. Treadway walked out of his cabin and almost bumped into the man who was trying to enter it.

“Good morning, my lord,” Andrews said.

Granger smiled, a genuine gesture. “It is good to see you, Mr. Andrews. I have been laboring over ledgers all morning, and as we are soon to have men aboard this vessel, I was wont to leave that behind and attend to victualing.”

“I will attend to those matters immediately, my lord, but with your permission, I will help Mr. Weston sign the men on first.”

“The men?”

“Yes, my lord. I have brought a hundred men with me from the Abbey. We left twenty behind, men who wanted to stay and work on the estate, if that meets with your approval.”

“That is fine,” Granger said. He wasn’t surprised at that. When he’d seen the men at the Abbey, some of them had found wives, and had started to put down roots. Having them opt to stay behind did not unduly concern Granger. He’d started this morning out with a skeleton crew, and now had a hundred seamen aboard, with seventy-five marines on their way. “I think we should celebrate the arrival of our crew. I will leave it to you to round up stores for us.”

“Of course, my lord,” Andrews said.

Granger ushered him out of his cabin and found the deck crowded with men, his men, men who had followed him since before he was a captain. While they waited patiently to sign onto the ship’s book, Granger spent time with each of them, welcoming them on board. It gave him a chance to talk to them informally, before they were officially part of the crew. After that, rigid naval discipline would dominate their relationship.

One of the men, Dawkins, had served with Granger when he was a young midshipman on Barracuda. Granger had saved his life when his yard had broken during a storm, and had saved it again at a court martial in the Mediterranean. Many of them came from Belvidera, the ship he’d commanded when he’d bearded the Bey of Oran. And some of them had served with him at Toulon, when he was Hood’s flag lieutenant.

“We going back to the East Indies again, my lord?” one of them joked. It was a mildly irreverent question, since they had no right to ask Granger about his orders, but in the context of the general celebration of their arrival, Granger ignored that.

“I fear I have become too popular for that, Boyle. They want to keep me closer to home,” Granger said, getting chuckles.

Granger saw Hornblower working by the binnacle, glancing at this exchange while barely being able to hide his surprise. Hornblower was probably used to imperious captains, but Granger had learned over his years of command that it paid to build a bond with his men. That and he genuinely cared about them, in a way that was probably not unlike the way Treadway felt about his marines.