HMS Belvidera - 2. Chapter 2

July 2, 1795

“Lieutenant,” Caroline Granger said as she breezed into the drawing room. “It's so nice to see you. I fear you've missed George. He's visiting the tailor.”

Calvert swallowed nervously. He was never as good around women as he was around men. He tried to smile, to use the same smile he'd used to attract George, but he was worried that he wasn't quite pulling it off. “Actually, I came to see you, ma'am.” He bowed as gallantly as he could and kissed her hand.

Caroline Granger eyed him curiously, this man who was sleeping with her husband. “Well I am honored,” she said, flirting to hide her true feelings.

“I know we didn't get off on the right foot before, and I wanted to come over and apologize for that, ma'am,” he said nervously.

“Please, won't you have a seat?” Caroline Granger led him over to a pair of chairs with a view out the front window. “So you think that now we have a chance to start off on a better foot?”

“I was hoping,” he said.

“It certainly takes a great deal of courage to call on me, to face the woman whose husband you're sleeping with,” she said, trying to keep the coldness from her voice.

Her directness shocked him, but Calvert responded gamely. “Perhaps, yet that gives us something in common, something I know is important to both of us: George.”

“Since we both love him?” she asked, keeping her voice even and charming even now.

“Yes,” he said boldly, looking her directly in the eye. “I love him very much.”

“As do I,” she said, matching his stare without hesitation.

“I should not have interfered with your time with him when he was ashore. I know that now. But is it so terrible for you to know that when you cannot be with him, there is someone else there who loves him and will do everything he can to make him happy, and to watch out for him?” Caroline stared hard at Calvert, thinking about what he had said, digesting the implicit offer he was making.

“So what you are asking, Lieutenant, is to have my blessing for you to sleep with my husband, which means I won't try to separate you two again, and in exchange you will leave George to me when he is home?” Caroline asked. This was now a game she understood. The art of the deal. Exchanging favors. It was the same thing she'd done to get George posted Captain at such a young age, the same thing she'd do to get him a knighthood, maybe even his own peerage someday.

“There's one more thing, ma'am that you didn't factor in, one more thing I'd like you to do” Calvert said.

“You feel you haven't gotten a good enough bargain?” she asked, flirting again.

“I was hoping you'd give me a chance to be your friend, or at least to get to know you,” he said sincerely.

“I will agree to your original bargain, Francis,” she said, using his first name for the very first time. “I will take your other request under consideration, contingent upon your good behavior.”

“I am most grateful to you ma'am,” he said, flashing his killer smile. Caroline looked at him and could appreciate what an incredibly handsome man he was. When he smiled like that, it was easy to see why George would have been drawn to him. “Unfortunately, if you're looking for good behavior, I fear I may fall short. I'm terribly evil.”

She laughed. For the first time, he'd actually shown her his considerable charm. “As a sign of good faith, you must call me Caroline,” she said. He smiled at her, and was just about to offer a flirtatious rejoinder when they heard a footman close the front door.

George Granger breezed into the drawing room, still pondering all the new regulations regarding uniforms, and irritated because if he went out in public with the old, outdated uniform, he'd look terribly ridiculous. Yet that had meant obscene bribes to get the tailor and his crew to work diligently only for him, to get his dress uniform completed as quickly as possible. He expected to find the drawing room empty, but instead he found his wife and his lover engaged in a conversation. Suddenly, concerns over his uniforms seemed much less important.

“Mr. Calvert. What a pleasant surprise,” Granger said cautiously. “What can I do for you today?”

“Nothing sir, I just came to call on Mrs. Granger,” Calvert said. They grinned at each other like co-conspirators, making Granger even more nervous.

“Well that's splendid,” Granger said insincerely. “Won't you stay and join us for dinner?”

“I appreciate the invitation, sir,” Calvert said respectfully, “but I need to get back to the ship. We still have a lot to do before his lordship arrives.”

“Then you shall have to plan to dine with us after that,” Caroline said.

“Thank you,” he said, flashing her that dazzling smile. He turned back to Granger. “I've left orders that there are to be no wives aboard until after Thursday. With your permission, I'd like to allow small groups of men a twenty four hour leave.”

“Arrange it as you see fit Mr. Calvert,” Granger said formally.

“Aye aye sir,” he said crisply. Then both Granger and Caroline watched his handsome form as he left.

“What was that all about?” Granger asked his wife nervously.

“He wanted to strike a deal with me,” she said, flirting with her husband. “I give him my permission to sleep with you while you're at sea, provided that you're mine while your ship is in port.”

He grinned at her. “Were his negotiations successful?”

“Remarkably,” she said playfully. “So much so that I fear I have lost my edge.”

“Perhaps we can think of an appropriate way to celebrate this newly minted peace treaty,” Granger teased, then led his wife upstairs to show her how much he loved her, and how much he appreciated her understanding.

July 3, 1795

“I hope you like what I've done,” Caroline said as they rode over to their soon-to-be new home. She felt comfortable in residence with her children at Bridgemont House, the home of Granger's parents, but she knew that as George's career advanced and her own influence expanded, it was vital to have their own establishment in the city. The carriage pulled up to a massive structure, occupying a significant frontage on Portland Place. What a contrast from their country estate, Brentwood, with its acres of land all around and its wings sprawling out in different directions. This was nothing like that at all. Granger jumped out of the carriage and helped Caroline out after him, then stood to gaze at this building his grandfather had given them as a belated wedding present.

“It is massive,” he said to her. The exterior was of a modern style to match the surrounding houses, its gray stone facade a bit cold and prohibitive. The houses ran together, so if you didn't look carefully for the slight contrasts, you'd think it was one large building. And because they were in the city, rather than sprawling out, it sprawled up. Granger looked up, trying to guess whether there were three or four levels.

She laughed. “I'm not sure that's a flattering adjective, George. I would have said magnificent. It is bigger than your parents' townhouse, although they are both too kind to comment on it. I suspect you will find that Freddie is less polite.”

“He should worry less about my land and property and more about his own marriage,” Granger growled. “Why is he still single?”

“He is a bit cold,” Caroline said. “Still, that isn't much of a criterion. I overheard your parents discussing that topic, not that I was eavesdropping.”

Granger laughed. “Certainly not. So what accidentally reached your ears?” He began to escort her up the walk to the front door.

“Your father is holding out for an excellent match. I think he fancied the daughter of the Duke of Devonshire, but that didn't quite work out. He told your mother that Freddie needed someone like her. It really was sweet, George.”

“Well, perhaps he will have a wife by the time I return,” Granger said.

“Perhaps even a child. You will be gone for a long time,” she said bravely. He put his arm around her to reassure her, at least to the degree possible.

They left those thoughts behind as they entered the townhouse. There was plaster dust everywhere, so much that it coated the walls and ceilings, covering up what must be beautiful wood carvings and panels. Caroline reveled in showing her husband this place she was creating for them, and the improvements she was making. When he returned, it would truly be a grand home.

“There is one thing I didn't plan, but your grandfather built,” she said, smiling. She led him to the back of the home and down a half flight of stairs. There he found a room only slightly smaller than the one his grandfather had built in Antigua, complete with both bathing and washing pools.

“It's marvelous!” Granger exclaimed. Now when he was home, he could look forward to spending time lounging about in clear fresh water. “At sea, I feel as if the salt seeps into my skin and permeates my body. When I can soak in fresh water, it is so refreshing, so restorative. Fresh water really is the ultimate luxury.”

“This gives you a reason to look forward to coming home,” she said sadly.

“That's really a horrible thing to say,” Granger said, unable to conceal his irritation. “I think about you and the children constantly when I'm gone. Some of the greatest moments of joy I've experienced are those times when I sail up the Thames and know I'm only a few hours away from you.”

The impact of his words, and the knowledge that she was out of line, was visible on her face long before her words expressed it. “I'm sorry George. I know you love me. I'm trying to be strong about you going away for so long, but it's hard and sometimes I let myself get bitter.”

Granger pulled her in and hugged her tightly. “It won't always be this way.” He backed away and gave her his playful grin. “Besides, you're the influential one. Pull some levers and have me transferred to the Mediterranean.”

“Not the Channel Fleet?” she asked, smiling back.

“It's too cold and stormy,” Granger teased. They toured through their home, all the floors, all the rooms, and Caroline laid out her plans for him. And much as she'd done with Brentwood, he was sure she'd transform this one just as nicely. They finished their tour and entered the carriage. The top was down; it was a glorious summer day. A day for lovers. Never let an opportunity go to waste, Granger thought, as they sped back to Grosvenor Square.

Granger stood in front of the large mirror in his dressing room, admiring his new uniform. The regulations had stipulated that a captain's uniform would be of dark blue cloth, the lapels to be outlined in gold lace. In the past, the lapels had been white, but now they were blue to match the rest of the coat. There was also plentiful gold lace around the pockets, skirts, and collar, as well as on the cuffs. Captains didn't have gold lace around the lapel buttons, only admirals were permitted such ostentation, but the whole effect was quite elaborate yet tasteful. He had a single gold epaulet on his right shoulder to designate him as a Post Captain with less than three years' seniority. A commander had the epaulet on the left shoulder, while a captain with more than three years' seniority sported an epaulet on both. He put on his new hat, another fashion change. Prior to that, his cocked hat had always had one brim larger than the other, and was worn athwart the head. Now the brims were even, and the hat was worn fore and aft. He thought about his undress uniform, which was double breasted and had much less gold lace. He'd actually thought that one looked better on him, but regulations were regulations.

“You look very handsome,” Caroline said.

“Are you sure you do not wish to join me dear?” he asked. He was going to Carlton House, to pay his respects to the Prince of Wales. Carlton House was quite different from St. James Palace. The Palace was boring and stolid, the kind of place for the older generation. Carlton House was fun and gay, with gambling and drinking and other forms of debauchery.

“I am tired dear. You go ahead. Besides, we have that dinner party tomorrow hosted by the Duke of Portland. I shall take tonight to rest up.” She was all but telling him to go do this by himself, which surprised Granger.

He worried that this he was somehow supposed to interpret that to mean he should stay with her. “I would be happy to stay home with you.”

That got him a really sweet smile. “That is so thoughtful George, but you really do need to go see the Prince. Don't forget to congratulate him on his marriage.”

Granger had forgotten all about that. It was some two months since he'd taken Caroline of Brunswick to be his bride. “What is she like?”

Caroline laughed. “They are a mismatched pair if ever there was one. She's brash, outspoken, and often forgets to bathe. When they are together, he visibly cringes.”

“Then why did he marry her?” Granger asked, suspecting the answer.

“Part of the deal is that his debts will be paid off, or at least that's what people are saying,” Caroline told him, sotto voce. “He's rumored to owe over 600,000 pounds.” Granger stared at her, gasping. It was a huge amount of money. He thought about the high stakes he'd gambled over at Carlton House. He'd won or lost up to 10,000 pounds, and it was a substantial amount, even for someone like Granger. But 600,000 pounds?

“I should remember to let him win more often,” Granger said, joking. He smiled at his unpredictable wife, kissed her dutifully, and headed downstairs for the brief ride over to Carlton House.

He strode up the steps and gave his name to the chamberlain. “Captain the Honorable George Granger,” he bellowed, and then Granger entered. As always, people appeared oblivious to his arrival, a practice that Granger was used to, but always made him feel somewhat insignificant. He stood and surveyed the room, seeing who was there that he knew and might actually want to see. He never ceased to be amazed at how brightly lit Carlton House was, the product of what must be thousands of candles. The cost to keep things so bright, to cast enough light to make the uniforms and jewels glitter, must be prodigious. No wonder the Prince of Wales had debts that were truly astronomical.

Granger made his way through the crowd and approached the Prince of Wales. He was a dissipated man, a man who was a rake and had lived the life of a rake, but that also brought with it a sense of fun and a charm that made him quite compelling. Granger bowed as he approached. “Granger! You've returned!” the Prince said enthusiastically.

“I have, Your Royal Highness,” Granger said, bowing again.

“I was wondering when you'd find time to wander over and see us,” the Prince said, horrifying Granger who always tried to be so careful about paying his respects. The Prince was a jealous man, and balancing one's obligations to his father and him was often difficult. Granger had gotten into a bit of a spat with his own father over that when he was first in the navy, until the Earl had made it clear that he must always call on the King first.

“I fear the delay must be blamed on my tailor, Your Royal Highness,” Granger said.

“Indeed? Did your tailor prohibit you from calling on me?” the Prince asked, drawing a laugh from those around him.

“No sir,” Granger said with a smile, “but as the uniforms have changed while I was away, without new ones I would have been hopelessly out of fashion.”

“So you think my vanity is such that I would have turned you away for having the wrong proportion of gold lace on your coat?” the Prince teased.

“To have the lace any wider than a quarter of an inch would be a grave insult to Your Royal Highness,” Granger teased back, making the Prince laugh. The King was not much for fashion, but the Prince and his friend, Beau Brummel, set the tone for what one was supposed to wear.

“I should take my tape measure to your coat to be sure,” The Prince said, getting another predictable laugh.

“I have not yet congratulated you on your marriage, Your Royal Highness,” Granger said.

“Ah yes, my wife. Thanks for bringing her up. You certainly know how to spoil a party,” he said glumly, but with that charming twinkle in his eye the made Granger smile anyway.

“Now that my obligatory felicitations are complete, I shan't raise it again sir,” Granger said, bowing and smiling. The Prince chuckled.

“Well come join us at Hazard, Granger. God knows Portland has missed you,” he joked.

“While that may be true, Your Royal Highness, my purse has not,” the Duke said pleasantly. Granger joined their game and managed to keep his losses to less than 2,000 pounds, a shame since he usually won. And even more of a shame since it wouldn't even begin to dent the Prince's 600,000 pound debt.

“Well well well, look who's returned,” said an annoying voice.

“Mr. Fox,” Granger said politely.

“I read of your recent exploits,” Fox said flippantly, as if Granger's destruction of a French 64-gun ship-of-the-line ranked right up there with the weather projections for next week. “You seem to owe a lot to good fortune.”

Granger smiled at the barbed insult, at the suggestion that he had no skill, only good luck. “In that we are kindred spirits, Mr. Fox. That you have a seat in Parliament, or any friends at all, would seem to be quite fortunate as well.” The Prince of Wales, the Duke of Portland, the Earl Fitzwilliam, and the others in their circle laughed uproariously at Granger's jab. Fox did not, although he did almost smile.

“Then let us hope our luck continues,” he said. “Your Royal Highness, Your Grace,” Fox said, bowing slightly to the two ranking dignitaries in the crowd as he took his leave. Granger took that opportunity to leave the game and wander about the room, looking for other people he knew, looking for Arthur. He found him off to the side chatting up a handsome young naval lieutenant. Arthur hadn't changed at all. He was still short, still slim, and still elegant, an elegance that seemed more refined now that he was close to twenty years old.

“Arthur, I was hoping to find you here,” Granger said cheerfully, interrupting Arthur's conversation.

“George! I wasn't sure if you were out socializing or if you were still busy with your ship!” Arthur said, taking his hand warmly. “Do you know Lieutenant Merrick? Lieutenant, this is Captain George Granger.”

“I have not had that pleasure,” Granger said. “It is nice to meet you Lieutenant,” Granger said, shaking his hand. Granger looked at the Lieutenant as if for the first time, taking in his dark red hair and bright green eyes. He looked to be older than Granger, perhaps 25 years old or so. He had nice looks, nothing spectacular like Calvert, but still quite compelling, but his most attractive feature was his skin. It was smooth and white like one would expect of a woman, with a smattering of freckles on his face where he'd been in the sun. The freckles spread across the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a very unique pattern.

“Thank you sir,” the Lieutenant said nervously. “I have heard of your exploits. It is an honor to meet you.”

“Why thank you Mr. Merrick,” Granger said in his friendliest tone. “What service have you seen?”

“I have been attached to the Channel Fleet until recently sir,” he said. “I was second lieutenant on the Marlborough. We took a prize and I was given command of her.” The Marlborough was a 74-gun ship-of-the-line.

“Did you enjoy the Channel Fleet?” Granger asked.

“I'm not sorry to have quit it, sir. It's nice now, but it's a bit too cold and stormy in the winter months.” He flashed Granger his smile, which was quite dazzling.

Granger laughed. “Well, I told my wife the same thing just this morning.”

Merrick suddenly seemed to think his presence was unwelcome, and that Granger wanted to talk to Arthur alone, while Granger had really wanted to get to know the lieutenant a bit better. “It was a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said to Granger, shaking his hand. “And a pleasure to see you again Mr. Teasdale,” he said to Arthur, and then vanished into the crowd.

“It seems that you have rudely chased off my prime target for this evening,” Arthur said, pretending to be irritated.

“What makes you think he would succumb to your wiles,” Granger teased.

“One knows these things,” Arthur said, joking back.

“Perhaps if you can offer me a ride home I can fill the void he has left,” Granger said, flirting.

“How could I not indulge the hero of the hour?” Arthur said playfully. They made their way out to Arthur's carriage separately so as not to give the wags something else to gossip about. Once out front, they waited only briefly for Arthur's carriage to pull up, then they both hopped in, Granger first. Arthur leaned out the door to give instructions to the driver, then pulled himself in and closed the door. He took only a second to lower the shades while the carriage lurched as it moved off.

There was no need for playful banter or extensive foreplay; they both knew what they wanted. Granger pulled his trousers down while Arthur pulled his off completely, then he sat on Granger's lap. Granger felt his dick harden with the feel of Arthur's soft ass cheeks on his thighs, and felt his dick come into contact with Arthur's soft balls as it expanded. Then their lips met, igniting their passion. Arthur moved forward and lined Granger's cock up to his ass and lowered himself down, taking him easily. Granger smiled, thinking about what a slut Arthur was and how he'd come completely prepared to be fucked, his ass lubed up and everything. His smile was replaced by a moan as Arthur began to slide up and down on Granger's pole. They maintained their kiss as they fucked, with Granger trying desperately to control his orgasm and make this last. But Arthur was too beautiful, his body too exquisite for that, and Granger growled as his load built up, then barely managed to stifle a yell as he came, blasting into Arthur's willing ass.

Arthur stayed on top of him, enjoying the feel of Granger's cock as it got limp inside him and popped out. He made to begin masturbating himself, but Granger stopped him. He pushed Arthur back onto the seats of the coach and engulfed Arthur's small penis in his mouth. Arthur responded, but not nearly as passionately as he did when Granger pushed his finger into Arthur's ass and found his prostate. Arthur shrieked as he blew his load, almost drowning Granger with his volume.

“God, I miss you,” Arthur said lovingly.

“I miss you too Arthur,” Granger said, just as lovingly. They pulled themselves back together then, getting their clothes back in order and wiping off the bodily fluids on their hands. “I did not see Major Jardines at Carlton House.”

“You were hoping for him but made do with me?” Arthur asked petulantly, and that really irritated Granger.

“That really is unfair,” Granger told him. “When have I not paid attention to you, Arthur? When have I not been a good friend to you?”

Arthur glared at him, fire in his eyes, then mellowed when he saw Granger's withering gaze. “You're right George. I'm sorry. I just know my feelings for you are stronger than yours for me, and that makes me moody.”

“You are a good friend, a very good friend, and I love the way we can express that physically,” Granger said, smiling. “I cannot offer you more than that, but that I offer you willingly.”

“And that is truly a prize in and of itself. It will have to do,” Arthur said. “But to answer your question, Major Jardines has followed Bertie's example and gone off to India.”

“To make his fortune?” Granger asked, surprised.

“And to escape from scandal,” Arthur told him. “He was discovered with another man. No it was not me, but I cannot say whom. It was thought best for him to leave the country.”

“You are being quite cryptic Arthur. Why can't you tell me? I would think if there was a scandal, it would be common knowledge.” Granger's curiosity was pushing him to find out.

“And you know that if I could tell you, I would. But I am often privy to information that is so confidential I can betray it to no one, not even a man I trust completely,” he said.

Granger knew then that there was nothing further to be gained from pressing him. “I'm sorry Arthur. I thought you were just teasing me with idle gossip. I respect that you have those obligations.”

“Your own news from America was also much discussed,” Arthur said, teasing him and changing the subject. “Mr. Hammond praised you to the heavens, and I suspect you'll find yourself received with considerable accolades should you venture over to the Foreign Office.”

“Alas, I will avoid that part of town unless ordered to do so. The Byzantine webs the diplomats weave are not for me,” Granger said as he chuckled.

“I know that to be false modesty,” Arthur said. “There is a reason you are the youngest Post Captain appointed in years.”

“Thank you Arthur. Much of my success was luck, as Mr. Fox so blithely pointed out.”

Arthur laughed. “Fox is a good enemy to have. That guarantees you friends amongst almost every other faction. I was surprised to see him at Carlton House. He has even managed to vex the Prince of Wales.”

“I fear I will have to leave politics to you,” Granger said.

“And to your wife,” Arthur said. He saw Granger's eyes narrow and hastened to make the comment a compliment, and not a challenge. “She does a good job of watching out for your interests and has earned my respect.”

“It was not easy to learn of her machinations to have Calvert transferred,” Granger said.

“You were stupid and naïve the last time you were home, but you have learned from it,” Arthur observed. His voice had changed to that of a hardened politician from that of a friend and a lover. “You are doing better this time.”

That irritated Granger. “My friendship with you is cited as a factor,” he said coldly.

“Yet you retain it,” Arthur said simply.

“I do. And I cherish it. Yet I wish you would have given me counsel on this matter before it almost cost Francis his life,” Granger said, relenting.

“Perhaps I wasn't entirely sure I wanted her not to succeed,” he said. “Caroline is not the only one who gets jealous.”

Granger stared at him and knew now that he was a willing ally in Caroline's scheming. But Arthur was an important politician, much too powerful to have as an enemy, so getting angry over this would do him no good. “I cannot believe that Arthur, since you know how much that would hurt me.” Granger leaned in and kissed him passionately. “I will remember to make time for you too.”

“You make it sound like a sacrifice, something you must schedule,” Arthur said petulantly.

“Do not be bitchy Arthur. I love being with you, but I have other commitments as well. I'm doing my best to balance them.” Granger said. “I was hoping to prove that to you again, but you are making me less willing with your attitude.”

Arthur's eyes gleamed at the thought of coupling with this man that he loved more than life itself. Instead of speaking, he pulled Granger into a kiss, firing him up, and then just submitted to Granger's animalistic lust.

July 6, 1795

In less than a week since Granger had assumed his new command, his officers and crew had already worked wonders. It was the height of summer in London, when days were mostly sunny and long, with over 17 hours of useful daylight. The men were toiling hard to make HMS Belvidera the pride of the fleet. More important than the ship's appearance, the slovenly and apathetic crew of one week earlier was integrating successfully with the men from Intrepid, fully adopting their pride and enthusiasm for their ship.

Belvidera and her fittings had been cleaned to the appearance of a newly built ship. Between scrubbing the decks to the snowy white that a good First Lieutenant would insist on, polishing all the brasswork, and getting her exterior appearance set to rights with new paint and plentiful gold leaf, the men had gotten very little idle time. In between those tasks, they'd had to haul the casks up from the hold for inspection, then attend to the re-provisioning of Belvidera for an extended voyage. Granger lamented that they'd had no time for sail or gun drill, but they'd have ample time to work on those things on their long voyage. With all of this work and effort, it was time to let them all take pride in showing off their ship. It was time for a visit from the Captain's lady.

The carriage brought Granger and Caroline to the Admiralty steps where his gig was waiting, the crew dressed in their new clothing, the gig now painted in those distinctive colors that were family badges. The boat itself was painted Bridgemont blue, while the gunwales and thwarts were done in Lammert yellow. The oars had blue handles with yellow blades, making a nice contrast when they were raised up vertically as they were now.

A crowd had gathered, recognizing his gig. They cheered wildly for Granger, and he was glad Calvert had sent a squad of marines along, smartly turned out, to make sure the mob kept its distance. Cavendish was there, in charge of the gig. “Frederick! How nice to see you, and how handsome you look,” Caroline said to him, making him blush.

“It's a pleasure to see you as well ma'am,” he said gallantly. They stepped into the gig and pushed off, rowing down the Thames to the Belvidera.

“Take us around the ship, Mr. Cavendish,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“Boat ahoy!” came the hail from the ship.

“Belvidera!” Jeffers yelled back.

“Do they always yell that when one of your boats returns to the ship?” Caroline asked.

“When any boat gets close to the ship it is hailed to make sure her intentions are benign. The boats respond accordingly, but only a boat with her ship's captain on board will respond by using the ship's name,” Granger explained.

“She's a beautiful ship,” Caroline said. Granger smiled at her, even while he agreed. “Look how she glitters!” And indeed she did. Scads of his prize money had gone to buy paint and gold leaf which had been spread liberally from her bow, down the upper works on her side, and on her stern, all of which had taken away the neglected look she had and had made her sparkle and shine like a happy ship.

“All of the gold leaf on the ship has been added in the past few days,” Granger told her. “When I first took command, she was bereft of even the slightest flourish.” Granger paused to prepare her for the next event. “When we hook onto the chains, I will mount the side. They will lower a chair for you and secure you, and then you will be hoisted up onto the ship.”

Some women would have been scared or intimidated, but not Caroline. She just smiled, excited at the new experience. Granger climbed up the side agilely, determined to look graceful in front of his wife, and found the ship in perfect shape to welcome the Captain's lady aboard. His officers lined the quarterdeck wearing their best uniforms, while the marines were formed up as well. He saw Caroline spiral up in the bosun's chair, then she was swung over the deck and lowered by the grinning seamen. Granger went over to take her hand and guide her up to the quarterdeck. “What an exciting experience!” she said.

Granger introduced his officers one by one and Caroline was as charming as she always was. She was especially nice to Calvert, leaning on his arm for support as he showed her the binnacle and the ship's wheel. Granger took her on a tour of the ship, showing her everything from the carronades in the bow to the flagstaff on the stern. He showed her the gun deck and had one of the gun crews show her how the guns were fired, then took her below and had a group of men show her how they slept in their hammocks. It was so refreshing to see the men grinning as they did, giving the impression that they were happy. Whether or not that was actually true, they'd find out soon enough. They arrived in the Wardroom to find that the officers had prepared drinks and hors d'oeuvres for them, and then finally he took her up to his world.

His cabin had been thrown open, with all the partitions except the ones screening off his sleeping quarters and his office being removed, to make one large space. The cabin was painted in the same colors as his gig. Their feet sank into the soft, thick carpet on the deck, which also tended to muffle some of the outside noise. It was dominated by a huge table, set with beautiful linens and the fine china Granger had purchased for entertaining on occasions just like this.

“What are those?” Caroline asked, pointing at two large boxes. They had containers on top of them for plants.

“Underneath each of those lies an 18-pounder cannon,” he said. She looked and noticed a similar one on the other side. “LeFavre has commandeered these planters for spices and herbs. Fortunately, most of them are pleasantly aromatic,” Granger said cheerfully.

He hosted his officers to dinner and they all fawned over Caroline, making her the center of attention. She was not a vain woman, but it was not unreasonable to think she would enjoy such attention, and she did. LeFavre made a fabulous dinner, wonderful cuisine mixed with some navy staples like split pea soup and grog to drink. The band played music on the quarterdeck, the sound of which wafted down through the open skylight, providing a nice ambiance. After dinner, Cavendish played the violin for them, and Lennox sang a few songs as well. And finally, as evening approached, they reversed the process, with Caroline being swayed into the boat while Granger descended down the side, and they headed back home. As they were leaving, the men manned the yards, climbing up into the shrouds and rigging and hanging there like leaves that were put back onto a tree. It was a sign of respect, one that was usually done when entering port. The folklore was that the custom arose so that those in the harbor would know that the ship came in peace, since most of the crew was arrayed on the shrouds and thus couldn't be standing by the guns, waiting to fire them.

“George, that was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had,” she said to him lovingly. When they got home, he led her to their bedroom and gave her yet another one.