HMS Valiant - 21. Chapter 21

October, 1799

HMS Valiant

Gibraltar

Granger was at his desk, attending to his ledgers and correspondence, when Andrews entered his cabin. Granger finished recording a number in one of the columns, and then looked up to focus on this purser who made his job so much easier, and his life so much better. “I see you are back from Spain, Mr. Andrews,” Granger said playfully.

“Indeed I am, my lord,” Andrews said. “I had a most successful trip.”

“I am glad to hear it, and I am sure we will all appreciate it on the next leg of our voyage.”

“I hope so, my lord,” Andrews said. “While I was in Algeciras, I was given this letter and asked to deliver it to Your Lordship.”

“Indeed?” Granger asked curiously, as he took the letter Andrews proffered. He opened the letter and its contents surprised him. “Pass the word for Mr. Weston!”

It took a few minutes for Weston to appear, so while he was waiting, Granger re-read the letter in his hand, keeping Andrews waiting in suspense. “You sent for me, my lord?” Weston asked, as he entered the cabin. He looked a bit disheveled, as if he’d been sleeping.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt your beauty sleep,” Granger said. He was in a good mood, what with the Elgins and their flock off his ship.

“I will endeavor to look presentable, nonetheless, my lord,” Weston said, with a bow that was almost theatrical.

“Mr. Andrews brought me a most interesting letter from Algeciras,” Granger said. “It is an invitation from the Governor of Campo de Gibraltar and San Roque to dine with him tomorrow in Algeciras. His Excellency the Governor has guaranteed my safety, and assured me that I will be returned to this ship no later than the afternoon of the day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps His Most Catholic Majesty wants to ask for his gold back, my lord,” Weston joked, making Granger chuckle. Andrews didn’t laugh. His life was devoid of mirth.

“Is that customary, my lord?” Andrews asked suspiciously.

“It is not uncommon to exchange correspondence, but it is unusual to invite an enemy to cross the border for dinner,” Granger said. “Then again, the last time I did this, and dined with the Viceroy in Lima, it turned out to be a fortuitous move.”

“It most certainly did, my lord,” Andrews said, recalling that they’d ended up capturing the galleon as a result.

“What was the mood when you were in Algeciras?” Granger asked Andrews.

“It was quite friendly, my lord. I detected no animosity, and was extended every courtesy,” Andrews answered.

“I must consult with the Governor,” Granger concluded. “Please have my gig readied.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said. Granger put on his second-best uniform, the double-breasted one. It was much less ostentatious than his full-dress uniform, what with its sparse gold lace and lack of medals and decorations, but Granger thought it actually looked better on him, accentuating his slim body. He made the short trip ashore in his gig, and then strolled up the street to Government House. He waited only a few minutes in an anteroom until a servant led him in to see O’Hara.

“And what brings you into town today, my lord?” O’Hara asked.

“I have received an invitation to dine with the Governor of Campo de Gibraltar and San Roque, Your Excellency,” Granger said. He handed O’Hara the letter, which was written in French.

“He would appear to be my counterpart in the enemy camp,” O’Hara mused. “Were you planning to go, my lord?”

“I was of a mind to, but wanted to seek Your Excellency’s permission before I agreed.”

“I can’t imagine that the Dons would use such a ruse to lure you over there, only to throw you in prison, my lord,” O’Hara said.

“I think that is almost impossible, Your Excellency, but were it to happen, I am confident that His Most Catholic Majesty would intervene on my behalf to see that honor was maintained,” Granger said confidently.

“I will look forward to hearing about your trip, my lord,” O’Hara said, approving Granger’s plan to visit Spain, and dismissing him at the same time. He returned to Valiant, full of curiosity as to why he was being invited to dinner.

“Welcome back, my lord,” Weston said cheerfully, as Granger reboarded his ship.

“Thank you, Mr. Weston. I have decided, in concert with the Governor, to accept the Spanish dinner invitation. I would be obliged if you would have a gold flag hoisted up the main mast, and when that is done, to fire a single gun.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said, but looked confused. Granger decided to enlighten him.

“That is the signal that I accept the invitation. The Spanish will acknowledge by raising a gold flag on their fort, and also firing a gun.”

“I will alert men to keep an eye on that fort, then, my lord,” Weston said. He executed Granger’s order, with the gunshot reverberating around the harbor, and across the bay to Algeciras. It took only a quarter of an hour for the Spanish to acknowledge his signal.

“They will send a boat for me tomorrow morning at 10am,” Granger said.

“We’ll avoid firing on it, my lord,” Weston said playfully. Granger spent the rest of the day drafting further correspondence to his friends in Spain, while Winkler worked diligently to ready his best uniform.

The next morning seemed to drag on; as if time were moving more slowly the closer it got to ten o’clock. Granger removed himself to his gallery, where he could watch for the approaching boat without being seen, at least not until the boat was quite close. The boat sent to retrieve him was an ornate thing, and quite large, propelled by several oars. It might be seen viewed as a cross between a galley and a ship’s boat. Granger was pleasantly surprised to note that it was on time. He went out on deck to greet his escort.

An older officer hauled himself aboard with some effort, and introduced himself as Colonel de Leon. “I have come to escort Your Lordship to dine with the Governor,” he said formally, after introductions were exchanged. His French was adequate, at best.

“I am at His Excellency’s service,” Granger said with a flourish, responding in the same language, then reverted to English. “Mr. Weston, I will return to the ship tomorrow. You are in command in my absence.” It was incredibly pleasant that Weston had served with him long enough such that those were the only orders he would need. It saved Granger from a long, rambling explanation of how to react if he did not return.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said.

Granger followed Colonel de Leon into the boat, and sat in the stern cabin as they made their way to Algeciras. Evidently the Colonel was not much of a conversationalist, possibly because his French was not up to the task. Granger could have switched to Spanish, but really had no desire to engage in inane conversation with this Spaniard. He allowed his eyes to furtively explore this enemy harbor that was adjacent to Gibraltar, noting the forts and other gun placements that formed its defenses. It made sense that they were significantly less impressive than those protecting Gibraltar, since Gibraltar was much more likely to be besieged.

They arrived at the dock, and Granger hopped out of the boat, followed by the Colonel, who then led him to a rather grand carriage. The carriage took them the short distance to a nice townhome. Granger was not sure if it was the Governor’s residence, his headquarters, or just a convenient place to meet. Granger noticed that he got ragged cheers from the populace, to whom he threw copper coins, much to the evident annoyance of Colonel de Leon. But Granger had learned from his visit to Roses that such a gesture had a large impact on his reputation, even amongst those who were nominally his enemies. It had certainly been worth his while to cultivate that reputation, Granger mused, as he remembered the delightful pork dinner he’d had last night, courtesy of a sow Andrews had acquired during his visit to this place.

They arrived at the residence, and he was led into a cavernous room, one that was tasteful but certainly not overly ornate. “His Excellency will be with you shortly, my lord,” de Leon said, and left Granger by himself. It was a strange feeling, to be alone in the enemy camp, as it were, but Granger was not afraid. They would not promise his safety only to cause him harm. When he heard a voice speaking behind him, he was fortunately able to repress his instinct to jump in alarm.

“Sadly, His Excellency is indisposed, despite all the efforts expended to bring you here. I am hoping my company will serve as an adequate substitute.” Granger heard the familiar voice, and with each word, his smile got even bigger. He turned to find the Duke de Cardona smiling back at him just as broadly. He looked much the same as he had the last time Granger had seen him, at the Alhambra palace. His skin looked like an Englishman’s when it was tanned, while his curly blond hair seemed that much lighter in contrast.

Granger stepped toward him and took his hands; squeezing them slightly to show Cardona how glad he was to see him. “I cannot express to you how good it is to see you!”

“I am glad you are as pleased as I am,” Cardona said.

“I should have deduced you were behind this invitation that would have me cross enemy lines,” Granger teased.

“Enemy?” Cardona asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Please pardon the reference,” Granger said, but his eyes were twinkling as he did. “This really is the best surprise I could have wished for.”

“Let us dine in my quarters, where it is more comfortable,” he said. He led Granger from the room and up the stairs to a very nice chamber, which had a drawing room and dining table adjacent to the bedroom.

“You have been stationed in Algeciras?” Granger asked, wondering why Cardona was here.

“Most definitely not,” Cardona said with the sneer of someone who was used to Madrid, and would consider Algeciras a poor substitute. “I have recently married, and my wife has brought the Marquisate of Sotogrande as part of her dowry. I chose to take a short trip to inspect it.”

“You are taking a horrible risk, inviting me here” Granger said. “It is quite likely I will attempt to get you to violate your marriage vows.”

“I am counting on it,” Cardona said, as he moved toward Granger, closing the distance between them until their lips met. The kiss they shared began in a gentle and loving manner, but became much more intense as their passion increased. They shed their clothes as quickly as they could, while Granger’s eyes focused on Cardona as he revealed, garment by garment, his incredibly sexy body. Granger admired his hairless chest and abdomen, and got even more excited when Cardona revealed his pubic hair, which was a light brown color and thus much darker than the blond hair on his head. His legs were strong and muscular, the legs of a man who spent a lot of time riding horses. They were dusted with hair the same color as the hair on his groin.

As if responding to Granger’s attention, Cardona’s dick rose, and looked remarkably similar to Granger’s. Naked, the two men moved to the bed. Granger was initially of a mind to hurry and sate his desires, but Cardona set the pace, one that was slow and passionate, giving them time to fully appreciate and explore each other’s bodies. Such was their foreplay that when they actually coupled, it seemed almost anti-climatic. For Granger, the experience was not just sexual, it was also very emotional. He hadn’t had sex with someone he loved since he’d been with Cavendish in London, but even though they’d largely healed their wounds, there was still a nagging irritation that made their coupling slightly less satisfying. With Treadway, Granger had a man that he liked, who was fun, but that was the extent of his feelings. But with Cardona, he truly had a lover. And for Granger, it was not only a physical release, but it was also a balm to his spirit.

They lay in bed on their sides, panting and smiling as they enjoyed the afterglow, appreciating the pleasure they’d just given each other. “I am so glad you agreed to join me for dinner,” Cardona said.

“Yet I have not even dined,” Granger teased.

“All in good time,” Cardona said with a smile, then got slightly more serious. “His Most Catholic Majesty will be quite vexed at you for capturing yet more of his treasure.”

“I would think His Most Catholic Majesty would be used to it,” Granger joked, making them both laugh. “I hope he understands that I was just doing my duty,” Granger said more respectfully.

“I suspect he will,” Cardona agreed. “You are probably unique amongst those who have captured the Flota.” The Flota was the Spanish term for their treasure shipment.

“Because I am so handsome?” Granger joked, making Cardona chuckle.

“You certainly are that, but that is not why. You are unique in that one would expect you to be reviled in this country for the damage your depredations have done to the treasury, yet instead, your popularity only increases.”

“It is nice to know that I have managed to be that charming,” Granger said dismissively, even though he was quite flattered by Cardona’s words.

“I think, rather, it is that you are so honorable,” Cardona said. Granger blushed at that compliment.

“Just as I have found most of the Spaniards with whom I have interacted,” Granger said.

“Only most of them?” Cardona teased.

“I would exempt the Governor of Valdivia from that list,” Granger said, and let his annoyance show. That man, whom Granger had never personally met, had managed to annoy him considerably.

“He has paid the price for his rudeness, and his lack of vision,” Cardona said. “He has been dispatched to manage a town in the jungles of Venezuela, which one I cannot remember.”

“I pity the jungles of Venezuela,” Granger said, mostly joking. “And you have married?”

“I have,” Cardona replied blandly.

“It is not a happy marriage?” Granger asked, probing. Cardona frowned at him.

“It is not,” Cardona said. “I find her to be boring and dull, so I perform my duties then absent myself from her company.”

“I am not doing any better with my marriage,” Granger confessed.

“I find that when I am coupling with her, in order to discharge my seed, my best technique is to remember a certain English captain who has captured a piece of my heart.”

“And who is this man?” Granger demanded, pretending to be outraged, even though he knew Cardona was referring to him. He got a chuckle from Cardona, one he silenced with a kiss. “You have a piece of my heart as well.”

“When peace comes, you must travel to Madrid,” Cardona said. “After you do, I will return the favor, and visit London. But not in the winter.”

“If you come in the winter, I will still keep you warm,” Granger said. He kissed Cardona again, and the two young men had recovered enough to make love again. This time, it was even better, and this time, when they were done, Cardona stood up and began dressing. Granger followed his lead.

“It seems I promised you food, and I suspect the servants would not appreciate us being naked at the dinner table,” he explained.

“You are a vision of beauty,” Granger said. “I think they would indeed appreciate it.” It was funny to see Cardona blush at his compliment. They tidied up the bed, to make it look as if they had not just had a sexual extravaganza there, and then repaired to the dining table. Cardona summoned servants, who brought food for them, excellent food.

“I hope you like it,” Cardona said, referring to the dish Granger was serving himself.

“I think that after my experience of being with you, any other pleasures, like this food, will pale in comparison,” Granger said. “But I am sure it is excellent.” He took a bite, and he was right.

“Luis would send his regards if he knew I was meeting with you,” Cardona said.

“How is he doing?” Granger asked with concern. His letters had been mostly happy, but there were holes in them that begged explanation. Luis was Cardona’s younger brother. He had been captured by the barbarians when he was a boy, and had lived most of his life as a sexual slave. And worst of all, the bastards had cut off his balls, turning him into a eunuch.

“He is doing well,” Cardona said. “It was not easy for him to adapt back into the civilized world, but we helped him, and he is a fast learner. I think that if you met him, you would not recognize him.”

“I was impressed with the person he was, so I can only imagine that with your influence, he has blossomed,” Granger said.

Cardona smiled to thank him. “He has joined the priesthood, and His Most Catholic Majesty has seen fit to make him a bishop. But he is not a passionate man of God, so they have found uses for his service in the foreign office.”

“With his language skills and inherent charm, I should think that would be a place he would shine,” Granger noted.

“He does well, although I think the morass that is Spanish politics is more challenging to him than dealing with foreign countries,” Cardona said lightheartedly.

“I suspect that my diplomatic brethren would say the same thing about England,” Granger joked.

“And how are you?” Cardona asked. “I appreciated your letters from Paris. I did what I could to speed your release.”

“And for that, I am truly grateful,” Granger said. “It was an unpleasant but not miserable experience. The French have jettisoned their King, and their aristocracy, only to then promote lawyers to take their place.”

“It seems that our countries are both saddled with unpleasant allies,” Cardona said ruefully. “We must deal with the French, while you must endure the Portuguese.”

Granger laughed. “If France were still the country she was prior to the Revolution, I would submit that we had the worst of the deal.”

“Alas, she is not,” Cardona said sadly. “But I do have some news that is cause for celebration.”

“Indeed?”

“My wife is due to give birth within the next few months,” he said, and that made both of them smile. “I think this is the last excursion I will be allowed to make before that happens.”

“Despite my contentious relationship with my wife, I found joy with my children during my last visit home,” Granger said, opening up to this man who was his friend, his lover, his confidante, and his enemy, all in the same person.

“It is not the custom for us to interact much with our offspring until they are older,” Cardona said.

“It is not the custom in England to do that either, but I have found it rewarding, nonetheless,” Granger replied. “You like to do things a bit differently, so perhaps you will find that to be a suitable way to be unique.”

Cardona laughed. “Perhaps.” They finished their dinner, the servants cleared away the plates and dishes, and then the two men satisfied their desire for each other again. And again. And again.

November, 1799

HMS Valiant

Gibraltar

Granger was on deck to welcome the Elgins back aboard, even as he manfully hid the dread he felt at having to deal with them again. He’d had a most enjoyable time in Gibraltar, but the highlight had been his day with Cardona. He used the memory of their time together to make him smile, and he kept that smile on his face even as the bosun’s chair lowered Lady Elgin onto the quarterdeck.

“Welcome back,” Granger said, even as they helped her out of the chair.

“I am hoping that it is acceptable to respond to you enough to thank you for your greeting,” she said. Her bitchiness had not ebbed from her time ashore at all.

“This once,” Granger said coolly, and then turned to greet Elgin, who was much more pleasant.

“We’re on time, Granger,” Elgin said.

“You are indeed,” Granger said. “And that is most fortuitous, since it gives us longer in Minorca.”

“I have not been there,” he said.

“It is a lovely island,” Granger said. “I think you will enjoy exploring it.” He was confident that Elgin would indeed enjoy exploring Minorca, especially if he could do it without his wife.

“I’ve further supplemented our stores,” he said, as they hoisted a live bullock aboard.

“That is excellent news,” Granger said. That bullock would look pathetically thin next to the much fatter ones Andrews had acquired in Spain. “Mr. Weston, I’ll have the anchor hove short.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said. And so Valiant reabsorbed the Elgins and their entourage into her, and set out on the next leg of their trip. They had miraculously gotten a wind that just enabled them to clear the Mole and pass through the Straits and into the Mediterranean. Despite their auspicious start, by nightfall, it looked as if their luck had changed.

“Looks to be a storm, my lord,” Weston noted, as Granger went on deck to make his final rounds of the night. He’d felt the increased motion of the ship, and had known it was coming even before he’d come up on deck.

“Rig for storms, Mr. Weston,” Granger ordered. He looked up at the masts, where the sails were straining against the increasing winds. Not only did the winds blow harder, they also blew colder, such that Granger found himself moving around actively to avoid getting so cold that his teeth would chatter.

Granger had developed a system for handling storms when he’d been in command of Bacchante, and it had worked so well for him, especially when he’d transited Cape Horn, that he’d adopted the same protocols aboard Valiant. In Bacchante, they would send down the topmasts to lower their center of gravity, but with Valiant, the challenge was just the opposite, so they left them in place. But just as they’d done in Bacchante, they put boards over the waist of the ship and battened down the hatches, in order to prevent water from pouring into the deck below. Granger watched as they completed these preparations, and reduced sail considerably.

The cloudy skies gave way to a black night, where the darkness was only alleviated by the lanterns they could manage to keep lit in the face of the strong winds. Granger stayed up on deck with Weston, waiting for the storm to peak, but it did not, and only grew in intensity. “We’ll have to heave to!” Granger shouted to Weston. He nodded, because it took too much effort to speak in these winds. Granger was about to turn his attentions to their maneuver when the hatch flew open and Lady Elgin came up on deck.

Granger studied her expression and almost laughed in her face at how it changed. She had come up here full of complaints and vexations, but as soon as she’d landed on the deck, the cold winds and the spray had changed her attitude considerably. He ignored her, even as she stood five yards away from him, and prepared to heave Valiant to.

Just as they made to turn Valiant into the wind, a huge wave broke over her bow, lifting her up into the air even as water poured down her deck. It had been unexpected, and Granger watched nervously as several men were washed away from their posts. He was relieved to see them safely grabbing the shrouds or some other stationary object to keep them from being swept overboard. The rushing wall of water poured down Valiant’s upper deck, but before Granger could react, it reached Lady Elgin, sending her sprawling toward him.

“Attend to the ship!” Granger ordered Weston. He looked into the darkness of the water that swirled around his legs until he saw some petticoats nearby. He reached out urgently, grabbing at first material, then skin. He had evidently seized Lady Elgin’s ankle, so even as he held her steady, she floundered around in the water.

Weston conned Valiant into the wind, heaving her to, and that eased the motion of the deck considerably. As Valiant’s nose descended into the next trough, her deck tilted forward, taking the water with it. Granger felt the rush of the water trying to drag Lady Elgin off with it. It was only his grip on her ankle that stopped the sea from doing just that. Granger pondered only briefly that his life, and Elgin’s, would probably be considerably easier if he’d released her to her fate, but he was too honorable to do such a thing.

With the water gone, Lady Elgin lay on the deck, like a whale that had been beached. Granger let go of her ankle, and instead reached for her hand, using it to pull her up. She stared at him in a daze. Granger said nothing; the winds made talking much too difficult. Instead, he led her back to his cabin, where it seemed almost silent after the roaring sounds on deck. He grimaced at how soggy the carpets were by the bulkhead to the quarterdeck.

“My lord!” Winkler said, then froze when he saw Granger guiding Lady Elgin into his cabin.

“Send for Her Ladyship’s servant. She will need something dry to wear. After you have accomplished that, allow her to sit aft, next to the stove.” The stove in his cabin had been all but sealed up so the embers could not escape, and while that made its fire less robust, it still gave off a delicious heat.

“Aye aye my lord,” Winkler said. He had to pry his hand loose from Lady Elgin’s, and then he turned and went back out onto the deck. The brief warmth he’d felt in his cabin did nothing more than taunt him, and make the cold he returned to just that much more miserable.

Valiant was riding much better now that she was yielding to the wind and the water, but that did not preclude waves from still crashing onto her decks. Granger wondered ruefully if, by battening down the hatches and sealing up the waist, he’d just given the water a faster path into his cabin, but there was little to be done about it now. He would have to suffer with his wet carpets.

“Mr. Weston, I will take this watch, and then you can relieve me,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said. He opened the hatch and hurried below before the next wave could send water crashing through to the main deck. Granger had a policy that he’d started on Intrepid, and had continued through all of his commands. In a storm, he made sure that either he, or his first lieutenant, was on deck. His first lieutenant then had been Calvert.

Granger looked up at the masts, then at the deck, even though he couldn’t see much of either of those things in the darkness. He thought of Calvert, who would be in the Caribbean with Gatling, sailing about on various missions and duties, wistfully in love with each other. He felt his anger surge, anger that hid jealousy, only it was much less intense than it had been in the past.

After his captivity, the first letters Granger had gotten from Calvert were much like the letters he’d sent before. They were full of love and emotion, at least to the degree that Calvert could risk imparting his most personal thoughts and desires to paper. There had been an abrupt change in style, presumably brought about when Calvert had received Granger’s letters from England. Granger had been polite and friendly, but that had been the extent of his efforts. He knew that Calvert must have gotten those letters and understood what had happened, and what that meant for their relationship.

Granger let his mind drift to that frequent vision he had of Calvert, one that was so detailed it could almost have been real. He could see Gatling and Calvert sharing a dinner in Calvert’s cabin, dressed in trousers and shirts that were open to at least the center of their chests. To their hearts, Granger thought ruefully. They would eat and flirt, and then when they were done, Calvert would lead Gatling back to his sleeping cabin and there they would make love.

They would whisper in hushed but husky voices about how much they loved each other, and they would both be telling the truth. And they would climax, just as spectacularly as either one of them had done with Granger, and they would tell each other that they had just experienced the best sex ever. Neither one of them would be lying.

Granger walked over to the side nettings and held on tightly, even as he looked out at the roiling seas, seas which were much like his relationship with Calvert. The vision he’d just had usually sparked jealousy, anger, and sadness in him, but this time, those emotions were much weaker. In a rare moment of self-awareness, Granger realized that this torture he had put himself through had succeeded in two things: it had made him incredibly miserable, and it had done much to kill off the feelings Granger had for Calvert. And when he went back and analyzed his reaction, he decided that his calmness as he thought about Gatling and Calvert coupling was a sign that he was truly over Calvert.

The sadness returned, only much stronger, when Granger thought about the implications of him not loving Calvert anymore. Calvert was gone, into the arms of another. Travers was dead. Caroline was a whore. Cavendish was suspect because of this whole ordeal with Caroline. Cardona certainly would be in that category, because Granger did love him, but anything more lasting with him was largely impossible while their nations were at war, and probably difficult at best when Spain and Britain were at peace. Granger understood then that the sadness was the result of loneliness. George Granger was a man who had much to offer. He was charming, he was handsome, and he was honorable. Yet the key to those traits was love, which was the fuel that fired them up, and as Granger took stock of his life, he found it to be depressingly void of that commodity.