HMS Valiant - 40. Chapter 40

March, 1800

HMS Valiant

Off Ushant

The storms that had plagued them since they left Gibraltar appeared to be abating, even though the seas were still rough. Granger looked out at the large waves that rolled toward the English Channel, knowing that once they got there, they’d become smaller but choppier. He decided he’d rather tackle them here, as they were, than in their soon-to-be truncated form.

“We are off Ushant?” Daventry asked, as he joined Granger by the binnacle.

“We are, indeed,” Granger replied. “We will be able to get underway shortly.”

“It will be nice to make some progress after wallowing around here for the past few days,” Daventry grumbled.

“We should arrive in Portsmouth tomorrow, or perhaps the day after.” Granger was unwilling to make too big of a time commitment, based on the foul winds they’d battled for most of their voyage home.

“I am wondering if I may speak to you in your cabin,” Daventry said. His voice had a serious note in it.

“Of course,” Granger said. “Mr. Clifton, you have the ship.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Clifton said. Granger led Daventry aft to his cabin, and sat with him in the leather chairs in his gallery. The seas looked even more forbidding here, where they were only separated from them by the glass of his gallery windows.

“And what is on your mind?” Granger prompted, even as he poured them both a glass of wine.

“I would like to talk to you about what will happen when we return to England,” Daventry said.

Granger eyed him with caution. “As we are almost there, you’re timing is quite appropriate.”

Daventry nodded, even as he stared out at the active gray seas. “I have enjoyed working with you, and I think that our relationship has benefited much from mutual trust.”

“I agree,” Granger said. He hadn’t really questioned Daventry’s motives until this moment, when he raised it as an issue.

“If I were dealing with one of your fellow captains, I would manage our arrival such that news of our exploits is unable to be leaked to those ashore,” he said.

This was much as Granger feared, that Valiant’s successes would damn her men to be banished from England, at least for a while. “You would send the ship out to sea before she could interact with the shore.”

“I would,” he said. “I would have had you land me in Portsmouth, and given you instructions to take Valiant around to London. By the time you got there, orders would be waiting for you, along with victualing barges, sending you much further afield.”

Granger wanted to object to Daventry’s assumption that he could reasonably give instructions to that effect. His mind grappled with that, while Daventry gave him time to contemplate the situation. Daventry could give most captains such orders, and they would follow them to the letter, if only because of the letters of introduction Daventry had brought with him. Granger did not know if Daventry was being candid with him because he truly did value their relationship, or because he knew that Granger was more inclined to question Daventry than his fellow captains would. “It would seem to be a foul way to reward men who have achieved considerable successes.”

“The world is not a fair place, George,” Daventry said. “It is important that the Guild think their plot is still alive and well for as long as possible. The government will consider that discommoding a few sailors for a couple of months is not an unreasonable sacrifice to achieve that goal.”

“Perhaps that would be true if something meaningful were to come from these revelations,” Granger said, unable to hide his bitterness.

“You do not think the government will take action against the Guild?”

“I do not,” Granger said firmly. “I think that John Company will be apoplectic, but they will be placated somehow. And I think that the members of the Guild who are in the Kingdom, such as Lady Elgin’s father, will suffer no real consequences for what is, in my mind, treason.”

“I think that there will be real consequences, but I think they will be more subtle than what you are hoping for,” Daventry said.

“As I am recommending that these men be drawn and quartered, I suspect you are right,” Granger said, introducing some levity into their conversation.

“Undoubtedly,” Daventry agreed with a chuckle.

“And what would those consequences be?” Granger demanded, getting serious again.

“I suspect the cost to the Guild for this affair will be substantial,” Daventry said.

“It will cost them money,” Granger said with a sneer.

“And reputation, among those who are important,” Daventry said weakly. “George, if you want to hurt rich men, you take away their money. It is really the only punishment they understand.”

“So I am to be banished to God knows where, along with my crew, so the government can extract some extra thousands of pounds from the Guild?” Granger asked, truly outraged.

“Rather, your ship will be sent off without you, while the Guild will have to contribute not thousands, but millions of pounds to atone for this breach,” Daventry said. “These wars are expensive, and the government borrows extensively to fund them.”

“Perhaps if they put the army to better use, or any use, they would not need to borrow so much money,” Granger said. “We have had troops all but embarked and shipped from Holland to Spain, and landed not a one, because the government cannot decide what to do.” He was annoyed with himself for being so petulant, even though he knew he was right. It was a sign of how close he had become to Daventry that he was willing to open up to him to such a huge degree.

“That exposes the considerable divides within the government over strategy,” Daventry said calmly. “Lord Grenville and his faction would have us embroiled in the Continent, while Dundas would have us gallivanting about the globe, picking up colonies.”

“It seems that we should at least pick one or the other of these strategies,” Granger grumbled.

“We should,” Daventry said. “In the end, where we win victories is less important than the fact that we win them.”

“So strategy makes little difference?” Granger challenged.

“This is a war of attrition,” Daventry asserted. Granger didn’t necessarily agree with him, in that he thought strategy was important, but he did see how in the end, the strongest country would be the one that could survive the other.

“You are saying that, by extorting money from the Guild, we are giving the country some extra help so we can outlast France?” Granger asked.

“That is what I am saying,” Daventry said. “I am not happy about this either. It has plagued me, and that is why I have waited until now to broach the issue.”

“So you are telling me that I will be relieved of command of this ship?” Granger asked. He wondered if he could be calm if he were having this conversation with Spencer. He certainly wasn’t accomplishing that goal with Daventry.

Daventry looked at him as if trying to decide to be candid or not. “Yes.” He saw Granger’s reaction, and then hurried to add a caveat. “I would suggest it would most likely only be temporary.”

“If my ship and my men are sent elsewhere, I will go with them,” Granger vowed.

“I would point out that these are not your men, and this is not your ship,” Daventry reminded Granger.

“As her captain, I am responsible for Valiant, her men, her officers, and her passengers,” Granger argued. “I will not be separated from my command.” Granger remembered the agony he’d felt when he’d been stuck in Amboyna and Bacchante had sailed without him.

“You do not get to make that decision,” Daventry told him firmly. “You will be needed in London.”

“I cannot imagine that, if they take my ship away from me, they would want me in London,” Granger said, a thinly veiled threat.

“You would hurt the government and possibly wreck your own career because you were removed from command of Valiant?” Daventry questioned.

Granger paused to collect his thoughts. “My men follow me, and are loyal, because they know that is a two way affair. They know that I will look out for them. That is the covenant we share.”

“And it is similar to the same obligations we have owed, as peers, to those who are our tenants or dependents,” Daventry observed. “I am reminding you that this same loyalty your men owe to you, they also owe to His Majesty.”

That really irritated Granger, since it seemed to call into question his devotion to the King, so he paused to control his mood. “I would submit that the best course of action is for the government to give me orders to take Valiant elsewhere, and then we will all be safely out of the way.”

“That may sound best for you and your crew, but you ignore the larger issues here,” Daventry said. Granger stared at him, asking him to go on. “There was a revolution in France, again, and you know the key players. Your insight will be needed.”

“I hardly think I will do better at guessing what France will do than Lord Grenville,” Granger said skeptically.

“Granger, you lived with Talleyrand for months, and interacted with the Parisian salons. Grenville has not done that, and neither have his men.”

“Monsieur Talleyrand is not so hard to figure out,” Granger said with a wry grin. “He is much like the merchants of the Guild, where money is overpoweringly important.”

“You cannot envision the insights you may be able to offer?” Daventry challenged.

Granger was really irritated at that, since he did not like to think of himself as being that important, but he forced those feelings aside and looked at the situation logically. He would have a better knowledge of the key people in the French government than most. “I can see your point.”

“And I will need your help with these matters we have uncovered,” Daventry said.

Granger pondered that. Daventry was opening up to him, and with that simple statement, he had explained to Granger his deepest fears. Daventry was suggesting that perhaps the Guild would be powerful enough to squash this whole affair, or maybe even to harm him. “You want help from me and my allies.”

“Yes,” he said.

A door opened and Winkler came in. “My lord, Mr. Weston thinks we can get on course.”

“I’ll come,” Granger said, and then turned to Daventry. “After I have gotten us on our way, I will return to finish our conversation.”

“I will wait for you here, where it is warm and dry,” Daventry said with a smile. Granger smiled back briefly, and then went out onto the quarterdeck.

“I think we can manage to get her into the wind, my lord,” Weston said.

“I think you’re correct,” Granger said. “Set a course due north.”

“North, my lord,” Weston repeated, but it was almost a question.

“North, Mr. Weston,” Granger repeated. He went to the lee side and began to pace, pretending to ignore how Weston handled the ship. He thought about his conversation with Daventry, fought against Daventry’s conclusion with all of his being, but in the end, he knew Daventry was right. Valiant was not his ship, and this was not his crew. They were the property of the Crown and subject to orders as surely as he was.

“We are heading north, my lord,” Weston said, interrupting his walk and his thoughts.

“That was well done,” Granger said. “It is my intention to deposit Lord Daventry at Falmouth, while we continue on to Portsmouth.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said.

“I will be in my cabin if I am needed,” Granger said. He went through the door to his cabin, and through the vestibule where Winkler slept, then entered his cabin, delighting in the warmth that enveloped him.

“And are we on course?” Daventry asked.

“We are heading north, to Falmouth,” Granger said. “It is my intention to land you there. I will take Valiant on to Portsmouth.”

“So you will agree to my plan?” Daventry asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You do not, but you could be much more contentious about it,” Daventry teased.

“You must understand that for a captain to give up his ship, it is almost as if you are asking me to surrender a limb,” Granger said.

“And you would do that for me?” Daventry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I would do that for His Majesty,” Granger said.

“Is there anything I can do to make things easier?”

Granger led Daventry back to the comfortable chairs. “You are suggesting that they will appoint a temporary replacement for me.”

“I think that is achievable,” Daventry said. In other words, the government would not make it permanent, and in return, Granger would be cooperative.

“I will have to hope that the Admiralty chooses my replacement well,” Granger grumbled.

“We can hope,” Daventry agreed.

“I would of course take my personal staff with me,” Granger said. “I would also like to make sure that Dr. Jackson and Mr. Andrews accompany me.”

“Your surgeon and purser?” Daventry asked in surprise.

“Dr. Jackson is vulnerable to the machinations of the Guild. I can protect him better if he is with me,” Granger said. He had already told Daventry of how he’d barely managed to rescue Jackson from the noose prior to his voyage to Amboyna. “Mr. Andrews has also served as a sort of personal steward. I value his business acumen.”

“I will do my best to allow you to keep those men with you, but they will have to pledge their silence.”

“That will not be a problem,” Granger asserted.

“And who on your personal staff will you take with you?”

“Winkler, Jacobs, Patton, and Lefavre,” Granger answered without hesitation.

Daventry nodded. “After you have landed me in Falmouth, I will ride to London as fast as I can, and attempt to have things established for your arrival in Portsmouth.”

“I will plan accordingly,” Granger said. “I will need to inform my officers of my decision.”

“Is that wise?” Daventry asked.

“I must be candid with them, at least,” Granger said firmly.

“I have been fortunate enough to get to know them, and I think your confidence in them is justified,” Daventry said.

“Thank you,” Granger said, appreciating the compliment to them and, by extension, to him.

March, 1800

HMS Valiant

St. Helen’s Roads

“Let go!” Granger shouted, an order that was acknowledged first with words, then with action, as Valiant’s anchor plunged into the waters off the Isle of Wight. The anchor seemed to fall into the water just as the sun vanished below the horizon, for they had timed their arrival with just barely enough time to anchor before nightfall.

They had dropped Daventry off in Falmouth five days earlier. The weather had been against them, just as it had been since they’d left Gibraltar, but in this case, the delays had served Granger’s purpose. Daventry would have had time to get to London and to put his plans into action.

For Granger, they had been lonely days. He hadn’t realized how much he had enjoyed Daventry’s company, and how his witty repertee had brightened up an otherwise dreary day. Granger pondered that these feelings he had for Daventry weren’t the same as one would have as one pined away for a lover. Rather, it was for a void left by a friend. Loneliness was the bane of a Royal Navy captain, but Daventry had alleviated that. Now that he was gone, the feeling was even more apparent.

“Do you have any orders, my lord?” Weston asked.

“Please make sure that no boats are allowed to approach us,” Granger said. It was already dark, so it was unlikely that they’d be receiving visitors.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said.

“And I would appreciate it if you and the other officers would join me for supper,” Granger added. “I think we can handle an anchor watch.” That would allow all the lieutenants and midshipmen to be there, along with the senior warrant officers.

Weston acknowledged his order, while Granger went back to his cabin to see how preparations were advancing for dinner. “We’ve almost got things ready, my lord,” Winkler said.

“Tomorrow, you must be ready for us to move ashore,” Granger said.

“I already have your things packed up, my lord,” Winkler said, referring to Granger’s clothing.

“I suspect I will be leaving the ship for some time,” Granger said.

“My lord?” Winkler asked curiously.

“I am likely to be needed in London for a bit of time, and to that end, I will most likely be temporarily relieved of command of this ship,” Granger said, barely hiding the sadness he felt.

“What will you want to take with you, my lord?”

“I think that the furniture and dinnerware can remain, but I would think that my personal effects, like pictures, should be sent ashore,” Granger said evenly.

“I’ll attend to it, of course, my lord,” Winkler said. Granger went into his sleeping cabin to compose himself, and then went out to his great cabin to find his officers assembling around his large table.

“Welcome home, gentlemen,” Granger said, and gestured for them to have a seat. “Unfortunately, I suspect that for you, it will be brief.”

“My lord?” Weston asked.

“It is probable that, after our expedition to Crete, the government will not want our men to be out and about, talking about it,” Granger said. Normally he was so stoic and reserved, but in this case, he had a hard time hiding his overall annoyance with the situation.

“I don’t understand, sir,” Kingsdale said.

“There was a mutiny aboard a brig a few years back,” Weston said. “The brig was recaptured, but as soon as she got back to port, her crew was transferred to a ship bound for the Indies.”

“They treated it much like a medical malady, and isolated those who were infected,” Jackson mused.

“Indeed, Doctor,” Granger agreed. “So in this situation, Valiant must be sent off for a bit, and you will all be tasked to say nothing of the event.”

“I guess I can wait to spend my prize money, my lord,” Weston said ruefully.

“My lord, you make it sound as if you will not be going with us,” Treadway said, having picked up on that subtle message.

“I have written a letter to the Admiralty requesting that I be allowed to do just that, but I am doubtful that they will grant my wish,” Granger said.

“So we will receive a new captain, sir?” Kingsdale asked.

“I asked the Admiralty to let Mr. Weston command this ship in my absence, should that be necessary,” Granger said. “Valiant is a large command, however, and I am not sure they will grant that request.”

“My lord, the fact that you had such confidence in me is reward enough,” Weston said sincerely.

“I do have confidence in you, Mr. Weston. You have been a superb first lieutenant, and you will make an excellent captain when your turn finally comes.”

“Hear, hear!” Meurice said, raising his glass to toast Weston. The fact that Meurice was already partially inebriated added to his exuberance.

“I told the Admiralty that I would take my personal staff with me, so that means this may be the last time you sample Lefavre’s cooking for some time,” Granger said. They all toasted Lefavre in response.

“Will the rest of us be going back to sea, my lord?” Llewellyn asked.

“I am hoping they let Dr. Jackson and Mr. Andrews accompany me as well, but we will have to see how their lordships of the Admiralty feel about that request,” Granger said. That got some hearty teasing directed at the always-dour Andrews and the more playful doctor.

They finished dinner, trying to be festive, even though the mood was relatively somber. Granger had been worried that this would destroy morale aboard the ship, so he had come up with a plan to cheer them up. “Winkler, will you bring out the chest from my cabin.”

“Of course, my lord,” Winkler said. He was about to go retrieve it, but Jacobs did it for him, using his brawn to easily lift the massive chest and place it on the carpet next to Granger’s feet.

“Gentlemen, let me share with you what we captured in Crete,” Granger said. He opened the lid to reveal the gold coins. They were neatly stacked, just as they’d originally been.

“My lord, this is a fortune!” Weston exclaimed. Granger was tempted to tell him that this was only half of the gold, and that he was not even seeing the gems, which were probably worth more than all the gold.

“Mr. Andrews, I am tasking you to divide these coins up as prize money, and to distribute them in the appropriate proportions to the officers and crew,” Granger said. “I will ask that you separate the flag officer’s portion, as I have a special purpose for that.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Andrews said. He picked up a piece of gold and looked at it, and then he smiled, a rarity.

“I would expect you to catalog the amounts and then distribute them tomorrow morning,” Granger told him. “You may use my cabin to do so.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Andrews said. The other officers left shortly after that, no doubt to return to the gunroom and wardroom and contemplate their fortunes. Andrews, along with help from Granger’s clerk, Patton, spent most of the night poring through the coins, weighing and itemizing them as necessary.

George Granger went onto the quarterdeck and paced until the cold wind finally drove him back to his cabin. He went to bed, but he did not sleep. Instead, he lay there, noting every groan Valiant made, her arguments as she struggled against the elements. He savored the noises, wondering if this were the last night he’d ever experience them.

March, 1800

HMS Valiant

Spithead

Valiant’s anchor splashed into the water yet again, while Granger gazed across the water at the beautiful home that waited for him. It was foggy this morning, and barely visible, but they had turned on the fountains, as if to welcome him back. They must have heard that Valiant was at St. Helen’s last night. It was a wasted effort; Granger felt no joy in this homecoming. Already the launch was in the water, with his gig to follow. Winkler had spent the night organizing his personal effects, the ones that would go ashore with him.

Granger briefly wondered if this was all much ado about nothing, and thought of how embarrassed he’d be if the Admiralty didn’t send Valiant back out to sea again, or if they sent him out with her. But he had labored over his conversation with Daventry, and he knew Daventry was right. His men were loyal, but to expect them to remain silent with their comrades from other ships was probably stretching the limits of hopefulness. They’d get drunk, start telling sea stories, and the whole incident at Crete would come out.

“Mr. Andrews, you may distribute the prize money,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Andrews said. He went into Granger’s cabin and brought out the chest, setting it up on the quarterdeck alongside a small table. His ledger was placed on it. Each man came forward, one at a time, and was given his guineas and asked to make his mark. Smiling marines stood guard, ensuring no one was tempted to abscond with more than his share.

“Boats approaching, my lord,” Llewellyn called. Granger looked off the starboard side and saw a pinnace emerging from the fog. Granger couldn’t see who was in the boat, but he could see gold lace. Beyond it were three victualing lighters. The launch was tied up on the larboard side of the ship, and Winkler was supervising the loading of Granger’s trunks into it.

“Mr. Weston, please prepare to take on stores,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said. They began to open the main hatch, enlarging it to make it easier for Valiant to gorge herself with supplies.

“Boat ahoy!” the quartermaster called from Valiant’s deck.

“Valiant!” came the reply. One word that pierced through Granger’s heart. Only a boat carrying Valiant’s captain could use that reply. Up until this point, even as he’d prepared for this moment, in the back of his mind was the possibility that the Admiralty would take a different course of action. There was the chance that they’d not worry about dispatching Valiant off to God-knew-where, or if they did, that they’d honor his request to let him retain command and lead her there himself. But those hopes were now dashed. Granger managed to catch Winkler’s eye and gave him a small nod, all Winkler needed to begin loading his more personal things, like his paintings, into the launch.

Granger could not bear to look at the entry port, but rather, he stared forward, maintaining his aloof air, using that to hide the emotional turmoil that churned within him. The four sideboys were there, along with the bosun’s mates with their whistles, as Valiant waited to welcome her new lord and master aboard. As the whistles began to blow, Granger directed his gaze to the entry port, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock as Francis Calvert pulled himself aboard.