HMS Valiant - 26. Chapter 26

An early Christmas present for my patient readers.  Happy Holiday! 

December, 1799

Off Cagliari, Sardinia

With the action over, it was time to take stock of the situation, and to find out how big the bill for this victory was. Granger stood there briefly, holding Blayney’s hands, then remembered Eastwyck, and hurried over to him. He rolled Eastwyck out of the scuppers, and saw the blood staining his chest. “Here, my lord, let us get him below,” one of the loblolly boys said. They picked him up, eliciting a yelp of pain from Eastwyck.

“No, put him in my cabin,” Granger ordered.

“My lord, you don’t have a cabin,” Winkler said. Granger was relieved to see that he and Jacobs had survived.

“That is your responsibility,” Granger said. “I would like to have supper eventually as well.”

“Will you be dining alone, my lord?”

Granger looked over and saw Blayney giving his own orders. “Colonel, would you fancy joining me for supper?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Blayney said.

“I will not be dining alone,” Granger said to Winkler, and then turned to Jacobs. “Please go aft and see that Mr. Eastwyck is taken care of.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” they said, and scurried off to do his bidding.

“Mr. Meurice, I would be obliged if you would evaluate our captured xebecs. If their condition is good, we will take them to Palermo with us.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Meurice said. And so it went, with one order after another, as Valiant began to heal her wounds. The quarterdeck reverberated with the noise of hammers as they worked to restore the stern, and Granger’s cabin. And while there was little battle damage to Valiant, just as had happened with Belvidera, removing the stern panels would require a lot of work to return the ship to normal.

Dr. Jackson came up, wearing his blood-stained smock, and headed to Granger’s cabin. Granger walked with him. “How bad is the butcher’s bill?”

“We lost seven men killed, and seventeen wounded, my lord,” Jackson said. “I fancy that all but five or six of the wounded will recover.”

“A remarkably light cost, considering the battle we fought,” Granger said. They walked in and stood over Eastwyck, who was lying in a cot, naked from the waist up. There was a huge gash across his chest, one that was so deep it seemed one could see the muscles and bones of the rib cage beneath it. “Perhaps I spoke too early.”

“I think we’ll be able to sew him up, my lord,” Jackson said trying to be upbeat to encourage Eastwyck. But Eastwyck was too weak from the loss of blood to be coherent. Granger left them and went back on the deck. He was surprised to find Clifton there, waiting to speak to him.

“Tell me of your adventure,” Granger said, and they began to pace the quarterdeck, as Clifton told Granger of the incredible efficiency with which the troops had slaughtered the pirates.

“We boarded the two xebecs, and thought that maybe you could use some help, sir,” Clifton said.

“It was a near thing,” Granger said.

“We only had one casualty, sir,” Clifton said. “Mr. Molyneux was killed.”

“That is unfortunate,” Granger said. The midshipman hadn’t been exceptional, but he was still young, and Granger had hoped that, given time, he may have become a good officer. He contrasted Molyneux to Travers. They had joined Valiant at the same time, but while Travers seemed to catch on to things quickly, and displayed a stolid reliability that reminded Granger of his uncle, Molyneux had seemed as if he were out of place, never quite adapting to a life at sea.

He was thankfully distracted when Meurice returned. Blayney joined them as well, presumably wanting to hear about the ships he and his troops had captured. “We have captured four xebecs, my lord,” he said, telling Granger something he already knew. “Two of them are not worth the effort of salvaging, but the other two look to be fairly new, and in good condition.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. “Then we will take anything of value from the other two and burn them.”

“Yes, my lord,” Meurice said nervously. “They were using slaves to help row them. The poor wretches are still chained to their benches.”

“How many are there?” Granger asked calmly.

“Some one hundred and twenty, my lord,” Meurice said.

Granger wanted to groan at this additional challenge, at having to deal with slaves. Not only that, but feeding all those extra mouths would deplete Valiant’s stores rather quickly. Granger was glad they were so close to Sicily. “Perhaps we can be of assistance in that regard,” Blayney said, joining their conversation. “If you would like, I can send my men to release them and see that they are tranquil.”

“Thank you,” Granger said sincerely. “Mr. Weston, make arrangements to send some stores over to feed the poor wretches. We’ll need a prize crew for each of the vessels.”

“If I may be so bold, my lord, I think that Mr. Kingsdale could handle one, and Marsden the other,” Weston said. Marsden was a master’s mate, and a very competent petty officer. Weston had been very bold indeed, interfering with Granger’s prerogative to select the crew for the prizes, but Granger understood what Weston was doing. It would be expected that he would be given command of one of the xebecs, and he was telling Granger he wanted to stay aboard Valiant.

“Those are excellent suggestions, Mr. Weston. I will leave it to you to make those arrangements,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said.

“I am impressed with the team you have put together,” Blayney said, a flattering comment for all of them.

“Thank you,” Granger said. An hour later, and they had dispatched men to handle the xebecs, and were ready to continue their voyage to Palermo. They were only lacking one thing: the wind had not yet returned.

“My lord, your dinner is ready,” Winkler said, and the mention of food reminded Granger that he was incredibly hungry.

“Mr. Weston, please see that the men have dinner,” Granger said, and felt horribly guilty. That was the first time he’d ever forgotten to see to the men’s dinner while arranging his own. “Colonel, dinner is ready, if you would care to join me.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Blayney said, and followed Granger into his cabin. Winkler had set up his dining room table, and two chairs, but they looked somewhat ridiculous in his cabin, which was still largely stripped of its accouterments.

“That was not quite what I expected a naval engagement to be like,” Blayney said.

“That was probably a hint at what the battles the Ancient Greeks fought were like. There, ships were merely moving fortresses carrying soldiers,” Granger noted.

“You will forgive me if I opine that is preferable to this new way, where you have large caliber cannonballs blasting through wood,” Blayney said, making Granger laugh.

“And that is much what it is like, as well,” Granger said. “This was a near thing. Were it not for you, and the intervention of your troops, my crew would be dead.”

“And you would have lived?” Blayney joked.

“I would have,” Granger said, somewhat somberly.

“They would have spared you?”

“Temporarily,” Granger said. “The Bey of Oran has placed a substantial bounty on my head. I am told the sum is doubled if I am delivered to him alive.”

“I don’t fancy that would be an experience you would enjoy,” he said ruefully.

“It would not be,” Granger said. They talked of their past exploits, and that took them to the Irish Rebellion of last year. Blayney had played an active role, and his regiment had earned the nickname “Blayney’s Bloodhounds” for their effectiveness in sniffing out and routing rebels.

“There was one man who managed to get away, and I was sorely vexed about it,” he said.

“Who?” Granger asked.

“The man who killed my cousin, Lord Mountjoy,” he said. “We learned that after he committed that atrocity, he fled Ireland. I heard he used the name Donegal, which was his mother’s maiden name.”

Granger thanked his father yet again for training him to be stoic in the face of stunning news. Donegal had been his servant after he’d joined the Mediterranean Fleet last year. Granger had befriended the man, who had taken excellent care of Granger. And then, when Granger returned to England on parole, Donegal had expressed concerns about returning, and Granger had gotten him posted to Calvert’s ship, Santa Clarita. Granger had never asked Donegal about his crimes, and had allowed the man’s loyalty and assiduous care to largely atone for any unknown prior sins. No wonder Donegal had been nervous about landing in England. Granger felt enormously conflicted over his feelings of friendship toward this man who had been a devoted servant, while at the same time feeling guilt over having harbored this man who had evidently slaughtered one of his fellow peers. “How did he escape?”

“We traced him to the shore, and we determined that he either joined one of His Majesty’s vessels, or took a boat to a different part of the world. There were rumors that he was serving in this sea, but those are hard to substantiate.”

“I would imagine, since there are many Irishmen serving in His Majesty’s Navy,” Granger noted.

“It has given malefactors a convenient escape,” Blayney grumbled. “And we have had no luck in persuading your superiors at the Admiralty to be more cooperative in our attempts to locate those who join to escape.”

“I would daresay, Colonel, that even if you had persuaded the Admiralty to issue orders requiring more diligence, they would be largely disregarded,” Granger mused.

“Officers would ignore orders from their superiors?” Blayney asked, outraged.

“The most daunting task for most captains is finding men to serve on their ships, a task the Admiralty has placed firmly upon their shoulders. As the war goes on, it becomes more and more difficult to man ships, as the Navy must vie with the merchant fleets for men, and those vessels tend to offer more appealing amenities than His Majesty’s Navy provides.”

“You are saying that captains are desperate for men, so they do not ask too many questions, or any questions at all, when an able-bodied individual signs on,” Blayney said.

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

“That must be quite a task with a ship this large,” he said, pondering how difficult it would be to find three hundred seamen.

“I have an advantage many of my fellow captains do not have,” Granger said. “I have been lucky with prize money, and that has given me a good reputation. I usually have volunteers.”

“Your men clearly idolize you, Granger,” Blayney said. “You are a natural leader.”

Granger felt himself blushing. He found praise difficult to stomach, because it made him seem vain, and he found that to be a very unpleasant trait. “Thank you,” he said. “So do you think Donegal will be apprehended?” He was curious to know what the odds were that Donegal would escape the noose that Blayney had waiting for him.

“It is my experience that most Irishmen ultimately return home. It is as if the island places a spell on her native sons. So Donegal and others like him will most likely face justice, if only because they succumb to the lure of their home,” Blayney said.

“And it will do that to you?” Granger asked.

“I have never truly left Ireland,” Blayney said. “Even though its conflicts haunt me.”

“Perhaps it is best to put the problems behind us,” Granger said.

“It is difficult to let go of the rage, when you have fought in a battle as intense as the one we fought in Ireland,” he said.

“Perhaps,” Granger said. “I do not know enough about the affairs of your home to render an opinion, but it would seem that as long as animosity lingers, there will be fighting.”

“While you may be right, I am not sure that fighting is something that can be avoided among Irishmen. We are known for our fiery dispositions,” Blayney said, making both of them chuckle.

After they finished dinner, Granger saw Blayney into the boat that would take him back to Antares, and then went back to his cabin to check on Eastwyck. He found him lying on his back, seeming to sleep, even as there was loud and frenetic activity going on all around him. Now that Granger had finished dinner, and the stern had been put back to rights, Winkler was working diligently to restore his cabin to its normal state. It was as if Eastwyck was an oasis in the middle of a storm. Dr. Jackson came up and stood on the other side of him. “How is he?” Granger asked.

“He lost a great deal of blood, but I am hoping that helped to flush out the foul remnants from the blade that cut him, my lord,” Jackson said. “We will know in a few days. In the meantime, I have bandaged the wound as best I can, while leaving it open enough to allow it to drain.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Granger said. Jackson chose to see that as a dismissal, and returned to his sick bay. Granger held Eastwyck’s hand, caressing it, remembering how close they’d been in Paris, and what a good and robust lover he was. He saw Winkler scurrying about. “You appear to be busy,” Granger joked.

“Indeed, my lord. If the wind returns, I am told we could make port in a few days, and in that case, it is important to have Your Lordship’s things organized,” he said.

“That is most certainly true, so in order to facilitate your work, I will leave you,” Granger said with a grin, then stepped out onto the quarterdeck.

The day was ending, with the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. Granger admired its beauty, even as he turned back to look at his little fleet. Valiant was followed by the two salvaged xebecs. Granger could see Kingsdale on the deck of the nearest one, directing his small party of men and soldiers as he put the vessel to rights. Blayney had generously volunteered some of his soldiers to provide extra help on the prizes. Beyond that was the other xebec, with Marsden in command, followed by Antares. It appeared that Valiant and Antares were two mother ducks, hustling their ducklings, the xebecs, along. Only there was still no wind, so there was no movement.

Granger felt a presence next to him and found Weston there. “We have the two xebecs to be burned some two cables away, my lord,” he said.

“We will wait until the wind returns before we fire them,” Granger said. “I would not fancy turning them into fire ships.”

“An excellent point, my lord,” Weston said grinning. If they fired the xebecs, and the wind arose and blew them into his little fleet, they could very well catch on fire as well, and as fire was the most dangerous element they faced, some caution was in order.

But it seemed as if Granger’s caution had prompted the Mediterranean to resume its normal ways, and at that moment, Granger felt a gust of wind, coming from the south. It was not the fairest of wind, but it would certainly serve. “It would appear that mooring the xebecs off our larboard side was serendipitous,” Granger noted, since the southerly wind would blow them away from his fleet.

“We were due for some luck, my lord,” Weston said.

“Mr. Travers, general signal, course east-southeast,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said.

“Mr. Meurice, I would be obliged if you would give the order to fire the xebecs we are abandoning,” Granger said. “Mr. Weston, you may square away and lead our flock.”

They acknowledged his orders, while Granger climbed up to the poop deck, which was directly above his cabin. He could hear the considerable commotion as they worked to put his furnishings back in place, but he did not pay attention to that. Instead, he watched as the other ships set sail and followed Valiant, and then his eyes were distracted by the glow of a light off to the larboard. As the sun set, the two abandoned xebecs began to burn, lighting up the night. And so the small fleet sailed toward Palermo, leaving the two burning pyres as evidence of their battle, and the devastation it had wrought.

December, 1799

Palermo, Sicily

“General signal, Mr. Travers,” Granger said. “Heave to.”

“Aye aye, my lord.”

“Mr. Weston, I’ll have my gig swung out. You may heave to,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said, and then turned to attend to Granger’s orders.

“Pilot is approaching, my lord,” Meurice told him.

Granger went below and dashed out a quick note, asking Blayney to join him on Valiant, then gave it to Jacobs to take to Antares.

The pilot spoke adequate English, so Granger was able to delegate dealing with him to Weston. Valiant trimmed her sails to once again give her forward motion, then headed into Palermo harbor.

Granger heard them hail his gig, and shortly after that, Blayney came on board, saluting the quarterdeck. He looked resplendent in his dress uniform with its trademark red coat and snow white breeches. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you,” Blayney said. “Although I am wondering why you asked me here.”

“I will ultimately be summoned to go ashore and meet with Lord Nelson, and I intended to take you with me.” Granger saw a most unpleasant person climbing aboard. “And what brings you here, Reverend Hunt?”

“I am desperate to escape from the sea, my lord,” he said, acting as if he had endured trials beyond the imagination. He liked to complain. “I am tasked with going ashore to find a suitable lodging for Their Excellencies.” Granger was not surprised that Lady Elgin would insist on their own residence here in Palermo. Her voice was loud in condemnation of Lady Hamilton and her affair with Nelson.

“When I go ashore, you may accompany me,” Granger said with good grace.

“Thank you, my lord,” Hunt said. Granger focused on Valiant, to do his duty, and to avoid having to deal with Hunt.

Granger guided Valiant to the spot the pilot had indicated. “Let go!” he said, and with that order, Valiant’s anchor splashed into the water of Palermo’s harbor and lodged itself on the sea bottom. He turned to the pilot, who was a pleasant enough chap, and thanked him for his assistance. Just as Granger was about to go ashore in his gig, a boat approached. It hooked on to Valiant’s chains, and then a familiar face appeared at the entry port, one that made Granger smile quite broadly. Lieutenant Simon Perkins, who was blond, cute, and had one of the most fuckable asses in the entire Navy, smiled back just as broadly at Granger.

“Welcome to Palermo, my lord,” Perkins said affably.

“What a pleasure to see you, Mr. Perkins,” Granger said.

“Thank you, my lord, but the pleasure is most assuredly mine,” Perkins said. Granger introduced him to Blayney and Hunt, keeping the felicitations brief so Perkins could tell them why he was here. “I have come to take you ashore to meet with the Admiral.”

Granger looked around at the harbor, which was strangely deserted. “The admiral is ashore?”

“Yes, my lord. He’s been staying here, recovering his health,” Perkins said a bit nervously.

“Quite so,” Granger said, and turned to Weston. “I will be ashore. Please see that the mail for the fleet is gathered and delivered ashore.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said. Granger didn’t have to give additional orders for reprovisioning, as Andrews knew very well how to handle that. Blayney was right; he had a good group of officers.

“I will give instructions for shore leave when I return, providing all of your tasks are complete,” Granger said loudly, so crew members would hear him. In this way, they would know that there would be no shore leave until Valiant had fully repaired herself, and perhaps that would motivate them to work faster.

Granger followed Hunt, Perkins, and Blayney into the boat for the brief trip ashore. “You seem to have acquired quite the cushy job,” Granger teased. “You are living ashore.”

“I manage, my lord,” Perkins said, grinning. “Perhaps after you are done meeting with the Admiral, you would like a tour of the palazzo that is our home and headquarters?”

Granger knew what Perkins was really talking about; he was talking about leading Granger off for an intimate moment. Just the thought of that was enough to cause Granger to get the beginnings of an erection. He had been largely celibate on this leg of their voyage, avoiding Treadway, who was his normal relief valve for his libido, but being here with Perkins, that libido was becoming quite active. “I will look forward to that,” Granger said.

It was a brief trip to the palazzo, one that they took by foot, walking up the lovely cobblestone streets that seemed to wind haphazardly around pleasant stucco houses. They arrived at this residence that had evidently been appropriated by the Hamiltons; The Union Flag flying outside proclaimed it to be the British Embassy. Perkins led Granger into the front hall, which was beautifully finished with walls and floors of marble. Beyond the foyer was a wall, which seemed positioned to block the view into the rest of the home, and it was painted with a rather tacky mural.

Perkins led him beyond that and into a drawing room, beyond which Granger could see a terrace, and a beautiful view of the bay. But his eyes took those in only briefly, and focused instead on the three individuals who stood waiting for him. Sir William Hamilton, who looked spry enough for a man who was only a few years shy of seventy, standing next to his wife, Emma, the woman who had purportedly captured Nelson’s heart. Granger had met both of them before, and there was no denying Lady Hamilton’s beauty, but her demeanor was bawdier than Granger was used to. She reminded him of some of the women attached to the Directory that he’d met in Paris. But the most important person was Lord Nelson, who looked frail and sickly; the strains of command combined with the need for diplomacy were clearly weighing on him. Granger noticed that the wound he’d received at the Nile still had not healed properly.

“Granger! How wonderful to see you!” Nelson said. When Nelson spoke, he became animated, and that seemed to drive the frailty away.

“It is a pleasure to see you as well, sir,” Granger said, and then remembering his manners, he turned to Lady Hamilton. “I must apologize for not seeing you the last time I was in Naples, but surely you must realize that missing seeing your beautiful face was not my design.”

“You must think nothing of it,” she said, batting her eyes as Granger kissed her hand. “William told me that the speedy departure was not of your making.”

“Welcome to Sicily, my lord,” Hamilton said, with a slight grin. The expression on his face puzzled Granger, until he realized that Hamilton was looking at him proudly, as he would at a son who has been successful.

“Thank you, Your Excellency. It has been an eventful voyage this far, so I am hoping for a calm week here in Palermo,” Granger said. “Please allow me to introduce Colonel Lord Blayney.”

“And what brings you to Palermo, Colonel?” Nelson asked.

“Sir, I have brought some five hundred troops of His Majesty’s 89^th and 30^th foot here. They are aboard Antares, and have been sent by Governor Stuart, per your request.”

“That’s capital!” Nelson said.

“I am conveying Lord and Lady Elgin to Constantinople, sir.” Granger said. “I would suggest that you would be well served to find the Elgins lodgings here in town, rather than inviting them to stay here with you.”

“And why is that, Granger?” Nelson asked.

“Lady Elgin is a most disagreeable person, sir,” Granger said candidly.

“You have had a difficult time getting along with her?” Nelson asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I have, sir.”

“I have seen you treat contemptible rogues with courtesy and tolerate their antics, so I can only imagine what sort of reprehensible creature this woman is,” Nelson said, making them chuckle.

“I have to agree with Lord Granger,” Blayney concurred. “I have enjoyed her charming company during our trip here from Minorca, and he is quite correct.”

“We will host a grand ball the day after tomorrow,” Lady Hamilton said. “Then we can get to know this lovely woman.”

“Having cautioned you in advance, I feel as if I have done my duty,” Granger said jovially. But now that the pleasantries were over, it was time to focus on business.

“Perhaps while Lord Granger meets with Lord Nelson, you and I can discuss transferring your troops ashore and billeting them, my lord,” Hamilton said to Blayney.

“I would be obliged, Your Excellency,” Blayney said.

“I will see if I can assist the Elgins,” Lady Hamilton said.

“Reverend Hunt has been sent ashore to find them lodgings,” Granger said.

“Then I will track him down,” Lady Hamilton said, and left them.

Nelson guided Granger over to a seating area and gestured for him to sit in a chair, and then Nelson poured them both a glass of wine and joined him. “While I only have one eye, it provides me with good enough vision to notice that you arrived with two additional ships, and they look to be xebecs.”

“Yes, sir. We had an engagement with seven of them three days ago, when we were becalmed. Were it not for Lord Blayney’s men, we would probably not have survived their attack,” Granger said.

“The Arabs do seem to hate you, Granger,” Nelson said.

“Indeed they do, sir,” Granger agreed. “My initial strategy was to hope that if I killed enough of them, they would leave me alone, but that does not appear to be working.”

They laughed at that. “I’m sure your report will be interesting,” Nelson said.

“We were also in action off the coast of Spain, sir, while I was en route to Lisbon.”

“Did you capture a ship of the line?” Nelson asked, and chuckled at his own joke.

“No sir. Valiant, in company with three other frigates, captured a Spanish treasure convoy,” Granger said.

Nelson laughed at that. “Gads, Granger, you do know how to make money. I was going to chide you for allotting me your share of the prize money from the Nile, but I think I will hang on to it, as you most certainly don’t need it.”

“I think that it went to the man who deserved it most, sir,” Granger said to Nelson.

“I was explicit in explaining to Their Lordships and others to whom I have spoken, that your assistance was a vital part of our victory,” Nelson said firmly.

“I must thank you, sir, for those kind words, and for the reports you sent to Lord Spencer,” Granger said. “They were more valuable than any prize money.”

“I merely acknowledged your performance Granger,” Nelson said, then dropped that subject. “I am sorry that you were captured. That was certainly not my intention.”

“It was not the most pleasant of experiences, sir, but I weathered it better than Captain Berry. He was a most disagreeable prisoner,” Granger said. Nelson laughed uproariously at that.

“I can well imagine,” he said. “And how did the French treat you?”

“They were quite civil, sir,” Granger said.

“They did not pilfer your possessions?” he asked.

“They did not, sir,” Granger said. “They did take Captain Berry’s ornamental pistols, but only because he created such a ruckus about them.”

“To hear Berry talk, you would have thought the French stripped him bare,” Nelson said.

“I think that if such a thing would have been feasible, Captain Le Joille would have done it,” Granger joked.

“We have much to discuss. Favor me by staying ashore.”

“Certainly, sir,” Granger said. Nelson summoned Perkins in and told him Granger was staying ashore. “I would be obliged if you would send for my steward, Winkler,” Granger said to Perkins.

“Of course, my lord. And I will ensure that you have a room set up as well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Perkins,” Granger said. The thought of being here in the consulate, sharing a bed with Perkins for the whole night, was causing Granger to get excited, so he had to distract himself lest he end up with an erection as he spoke to his admiral.

“Go get settled in, Granger. I want to read through all these dispatches. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Granger said, then smiled at Perkins, and followed him upstairs.