HMS Belvidera - 18. Chapter 18

November, 1795

“How is your leg?” Granger asked Cavendish as they both stood by the binnacle. The wind was still blowing hard enough to make talking difficult. They’d been fighting a strong Atlantic gale for the past two days, one strong enough to force them to heave to.

“It is better sir,” Cavendish said. He looked up at Granger and didn’t smile, as that might have given away his feelings to others, but the twinkling in his eyes told Granger that he wanted to. “I think I’m able to perform all of my duties.”

It was Granger’s turn to suppress a grin, thinking of what all those ‘duties’ may entail. He was distracted by the sight of Jervis ascending from the main deck. “Good morning, Sir John,” Granger said as pleasantly as he could with the wind trying to muzzle his words.

“Morning Granger,” he said curtly.

“The gale seems to have abated a bit, sir,” Granger told Jervis. “We are preparing to resume course.”

“Very well,” he said grumpily. “Carry on!”

“Mr. Roberts, bring her into the wind. We’ll have a second reef in the main topsail,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye, sir,” he said. The bosun’s whistles blew and the watch poured up on deck, then up into the rigging. Granger stood there watching with amazement as the topmen scampered across the yards like acrobats. They seemed oblivious to the howling winds that whipped around them, and to the frantic motions of the tossing ship. Granger watched with satisfaction as Roberts coolly brought Belvidera back into the wind. He had the feel of the ship now, and he was an excellent seaman, so Granger could relax, knowing that his ship was in good hands.

The effect of their maneuver on the ship was instantaneous. Instead of being hove to, where she was a pliable thing, yielding to the wind, now she was fighting against the seas, demanding to be allowed to progress on her southerly course. The motion changed as the waves slammed into her bow, the occasional large one sending gallons of salt water barreling down her deck and into her waist, below. That would dampen his carpet, Granger thought ruefully. But at least they were back on track, and Granger knew that with an admiral like Jervis, chomping at the bit to take up his new command, there was no room for lollygagging around.

Belvidera put her nose into a particularly large wave. Granger watched as a wall of water poured back toward him, intercepted by the waist which swallowed up most of it. That would definitely soak his carpet, Granger thought sadly. But Belvidera was a relatively dry ship, and it was only in big seas like this that she shipped much water.

Roberts came up escorting a seaman who looked sheepishly at him. “Sir, this is Gunderson. He was caught trying to take a double ration of grog,” Roberts said loudly over the wind. Granger was conscious of the fact that Jervis was nearby, and that discipline was one of his key focal points. If he were the captain, Gunderson here would be facing at least a dozen lashes.

“Your infraction is convenient Gunderson,” Granger said. “You can spend your next four watches on the pumps, and your grog is stopped for two weeks. See that that happens, Mr. Roberts.”

“Aye aye sir,” they both said, and vanished.

“Captain, join me for breakfast,” Jervis said, his deep voice penetrating the wind easily.

“With pleasure, sir,” Granger said. He followed Jervis below and headed into his cabin, to his dining table. He began to wonder if they’d ever reach Corsica so he could get his own space back. Winkler began to bring food out, assisted by two other men.

“You don’t believe in flogging?” Jervis asked him, more of an accusation.

“When the situation warrants it, I do, sir,” Granger said cautiously.

“So the man who tried to steal grog from the King didn’t warrant it?” he asked, his voice sounding dangerously irritated.

“Kelvin,” Granger said, calling one of the servants back in.

“Sir?” The poor man said, scared witless at being singled out in the cabin with his captain and an admiral, and not just any admiral, but Sir John Jervis.

“Turn around, lift up your shirt, and show me your back,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye, sir,” he said, and did as he was told. That he did so without hesitation was a significant indicator of discipline as it was. His back was marred; the scarring from being flogged would be with him for life. It was a gruesome sight. And he wasn’t even the worst of them.

“Thank you Kelvin. You may go,” Granger said, dismissing him.

“You assume I’ve never seen men with scarred backs, Granger?” Jervis growled. “He must be a seasoned malefactor.”

“Kelvin received four dozen lashes for dropping one of the previous captain’s glasses, sir,” Granger said. “Even though it did not break.” He watched Jervis trying to rationalize such inhumane punishment and was relieved that he could not.

“So you think that because the previous captain was too strict, you must be lenient?” he insisted.

“No sir, but what I have discovered is that they had grown so used to flogging it has little deterrent effect. It is rather like beating a dog, sir.” Granger said honestly. “And it usually diminishes a man’s ability to work until the wounds heal. So whenever possible, I try to give those with minor infractions some particularly nasty jobs to do.”

“You punish them by making them do normal work,” Jervis groused. The implication was that serving on Belvidera was some sort of pleasure cruise, and that irritated Granger, but he kept his thoughts and feelings to himself.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but have you noticed that Belvidera smells less noxious than some of her contemporaries?” Granger asked.

“Now that you mention it, Grey had commented on that just yesterday,” he said.

“One of the more popular punishments is to send men down to clean out the bilges, sir,” Granger observed. “It makes the ship more pleasant, and acts as a meaningful deterrent.”

Jervis smiled. “I suppose it would. Well it’s not for me to tell you how to run your ship, as long as you run her efficiently.”

Granger smiled. That’s exactly what he had been trying to do. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your insights, and I understand your concerns. With this crew, at this moment, I think I’ve found a nice balance, and infractions are relatively rare.”

“I see nothing to suggest otherwise,” he said. That was the equivalent of glowing praise from Jervis. “I fear that the other ships of the fleet may not be as efficient.”

“I suspect you will sort that out in short order, sir,” Granger said with a smile.

“You may be busy hauling captains back to England,” Jervis scowled.

Granger decided to laugh at that. “And I would probably intercept a valuable prize or two along the way, and they would accuse me of taking such a duty to further line my pockets, sir.”

“As if you need more money,” Jervis said, smiling. “I know all about the issue with the Portuguese. You did well there, Granger. You showed initiative and brains. That’s why I asked that you be sent to the Mediterranean, instead of halfway around the world.”

“Thank you, Sir John, for those words, and for saving me from the tropics. I hadn’t fancied another trip to India.”

“You’d get to see your brother, though,” Jervis said, probing.

“I fear not,” Granger said, not taking the bait. “He’s being sent on some expedition to capture the Dutch East Indies, so he would have been absent from Madras when I got there.”

“You were being sent to India to keep an eye on him,” Jervis said. Granger tried not to show his shock. “He seems to be able to out-fox almost all the other officers he encounters. You’re the only one who’s read him right so far.”

“Have you met my brother, sir?” Granger asked, fighting desperately to keep his face impassive at this latest revelation.

“I have not,” Jervis said.

“He is most charming, almost in a boyish way. He makes it difficult for most people to push him too far, to get beyond his shell, because they just don’t want to damage that pleasant outer layer, sir.” Granger smiled. “As his little brother, I have no such qualms.”

Jervis laughed at that. “No, I don’t suspect you do. What a contrast from your older brother. I have met him at Carlton House.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger agreed. “Freddie is a bit starchy. I fear it makes finding him a suitable bride a bit challenging.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” Jervis said. “You’ve got Portland’s son aboard as well. He seems like a fine young man.”

That made Granger really nervous. Did Jervis suspect something? Had he seen signs between them? “He has the makings of a top-notch officer, sir,” Granger said, again hiding his feelings behind his impassive face. “He has natural leadership ability.”

“If I’m not mistaken, he worships the ground you walk on,” Jervis said.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, sir, but I recall being quite awestruck by my own first captain,” Granger told him.

“Sir Evelyn Fellowes, wasn’t it?” Jervis asked. Granger nodded. It was amazing how well-informed Jervis was. “A fine officer.”

“Yes sir,” Granger agreed. That seemed to exhaust Jervis’ conversational limits for the time being, so Granger finished his breakfast and excused himself to go back up on deck.

He reached the quarterdeck and was buffeted by the howling wind and doused almost immediately by the spray. Rather than finding it unpleasant, Granger found it exhilarating. He stood near the binnacle while the wind whipped around him, thankful that the force of it made conversation difficult.

He thought about Jervis’ comments. So the plan had been to send him to India, and then the Far East, to keep an eye on Bertie? Bertie continued to plague him, even from thousands of miles away. It was his stupid duel that had brought about this confrontation with the Wilcox clan, and now it was his unscrupulous behavior that had damn near gotten Granger shipped back to the Far East. Granger reminded himself that family came with good and bad, and Bertie came with both features as well.

His mind shifted to Cavendish. Jervis seemed sincere about diagnosing their relationship as hero worship. Still, they would need to be doubly careful. He looked up at the little bit of sail Belvidera was carrying, knowing that she was at her maximum load already. He thought about how much he’d like to shake out a reef or two and get to Corsica that much faster. He longed to be rid of his admiral, to have his cabin back, and to be able to avoid the admiral’s prying eyes.

November 15, 1795

Granger knocked respectfully on the door to his own cabin and waited to be summoned in. He heard Jervis’ voice bidding him to enter, and so he did, with his hat held formally under his arm. These past few weeks had not been pleasant. The crusty old admiral was not an easy sailing companion. But Granger had learned to respect him even more, now that he’d gotten to know him better.

“What is it Granger?” he asked, looking up from Granger’s desk.

“We should be clearing the Straits today, sir,” Granger said. “Did you wish to call at Gibraltar?”

Jervis looked at him pensively. “Let me know what you see when the Rock comes into view. If there are ships at anchor, we may need to see what is about.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Granger said, and left him to his writing. He ran into Grey, almost literally, as he made to climb up the ladder.

“Have you been in to see Sir John?” he asked.

“I have, sir,” Granger said with a smile. Grey was a nice enough chap. “He was busy with his correspondence. He didn’t seem to appreciate the interruption.”

Grey chuckled. “I don’t suppose he would. Why did you bother him?”

“We are to pass through the Straits today, and I wanted to know if we should call at Gibraltar, sir,” Granger said.

“We probably should, but we’ll see if he has the patience for it,” Grey said with a smile. Granger nodded and headed up on deck. It was a beautiful day. Dawn was past them now, giving way to a nice morning, with blue skies and moderate winds. It was so nice it was almost possible to ignore the chill in the air. Granger studied Belvidera’s towers of canvas. The wind was off her starboard quarter, probably her best point of sailing, and she had all plain sail set. She positively flew through the water. It was exhilarating.

“She sure does go, doesn’t she sir?” Roberts said with a grin.

“That she does,” Granger agreed. “Have the lookouts keep a sharp eye on the Rock. I’ll want a report of any shipping in there as soon as possible.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said automatically, then went to make sure his captain’s instructions were followed. Granger began to pace the deck, dreaming that he might soon be free of Jervis and the fleet. The choicest assignment for a frigate was a cruising mission, where she was sent to a broad area to wreak random havoc. That would be incredible right now. He allowed himself to fantasize about that, about the freedom that would come from such a mission, ignoring the responsibility that went with it.

Granger reached the aft end of his walk and pivoted to stroll forward. As deep in thought as he was, he noticed one man immediately. Cavendish had come up on deck and their eyes met, but only briefly. That was all they could allow themselves in public. The young man was worming his way deeply into Granger’s heart. They managed to spend a little quality time together each day, but it wasn’t enough for Granger. He wanted, no, needed more. He found that his appetite for Cavendish was insatiable. It wasn’t just the young man’s lips and the way they formed so perfectly to his, his slim ass that gave him such pleasure, or his long, thick, cock that sent Granger into another world, it was the total person. It was his sparkling and playful personality, his entertaining and intelligent conversation, and his incredible musical talent that sealed the deal. Even then, those pieces didn’t come close to describing how amazing he was when it was all put together.

“Sail ho!” came a cry from the fore top, pulling him out of his ruminations. “Sail off the larboard bow!” The sight of a sail here near the Straits of Gibraltar wasn’t unusual, but it was interesting.

“Mr. Cavendish, please advise Sir John that we have sighted a sail and that I will keep him informed,” Granger ordered. Cavendish acknowledged the order and dashed off to tell the admiral. “Mr. Roberts, I’d be obliged if you would ascend to the foretop and give me your report.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said. He didn’t seem happy about it, though. Granger found himself wondering why until he saw Roberts start his climb. He approached it gingerly, going slowly. Clearly the poor man was afraid of heights. It was agonizing to watch him climb up the shrouds and nervously climb around the tops to the platform. Even when he was there, he held on so tightly Granger thought he could see his white knuckles from the deck.

“Deck there,” Roberts shouted. “Sail is a ship-of-the-line! I think I recognize her, sir. Looks like the Fortitude.”

“You may return to deck at your leisure, Mr. Roberts,” Granger called.

“Well what have we got here Granger?” Jervis said. He had this highly irritating habit of magically appearing on deck without being noticed.

“It would appear to be a third rate, one of ours. Mr. Roberts thinks she is the Fortitude, sir,” Granger said.

“She’s showing her number, sir,” Lennox said. “Fortitude, 74, Captain William Young.”

“You may send up our number, Mr. Lennox,” Granger said.

“Sir, she’s signaling. Fortitude to Belvidera, Captain to repair on board forthwith,” Lennox said nervously.

Granger turned to Jervis and smiled. “Should I prepare to call on Captain Young, sir?”

Jervis growled at him, but grinned slightly. “Can’t the bloody fellow spot my flag? Mr. Lennox, signal Flag to Fortitude, Captain to repair on board immediately!”

“Aye aye, sir,” Lennox said, hiding his grin, and sent the flags streaming up the mast. “She’s acknowledged, sir.”

“I should damn well hope so,” Jervis said.

“Mr. Roberts, heave to,” Granger ordered as Fortitude drew quite close. While Roberts attended to that, Granger stood on deck with Jervis and watched Fortitude’s sail handling as she hove to as well. It was barely adequate, something Jervis would be loathe to tolerate. He could feel Jervis smoldering next to him. “Bring Captain Young below when he arrives.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. He grumpily looked up at Belvidera’s sails, now backed to take the way off her. Any delay meant a delay in reaching Corsica, and ridding himself of his curmudgeonly passenger. Young may not have handled Fortitude with skill, but his gig was smartly turned out. Granger waited on the quarterdeck for him to arrive.

Irrespective of his name, Young was an older man, a captain of much seniority. Granger stepped forward to greet him politely. “Welcome aboard, sir,” Granger said.

“You better have an admiral on board,” Young snapped rudely. There really was no reason for him to be so obnoxious. Granger decided to leave him in the dark as to who the admiral was.

“If you will follow me, sir,” Granger said politely. Granger led Young below to his cabin. He knocked and led Young in, making sure he turned around in time to see the shock on Young’s face when he saw Jervis.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Jervis said curtly. “Have you forgotten what an admiral’s flag looks like?”

“No sir,” Young stammered. “I beg your pardon sir. We had no idea you would be joining the fleet so soon and in a frigate.”

“Based on the sail handling of your ship, Captain, it seems I have arrived just in time,” Jervis snarled. “Where exactly are you going?”

“Admiral Hotham ordered me to Portsmouth with dispatches and to reprovision, sir,” he said.

“Were you in Gibraltar?”

“Yes, sir,” Young said.

“For how long?” Jervis asked.

“A fortnight, sir,” Young answered.

“You are telling me that you spent two weeks cooling your heels in Gibraltar? Those dispatches must not be that important,” Jervis said.

“I couldn’t speak to that, sir,” Young said.

“Were there other ships in Gibraltar?” Jervis asked.

“Yes sir. There was a brig and a cutter,” Young said.

“Excellent. Then you will return to Gibraltar and transfer your dispatches to one of those vessels and send them on to England. You have precisely three hours to complete that task. Then you will return to San Fiorenzo and reprovision there.” Jervis stared at Young with his steely eyes.

“I fear my health is such that I am not able to return to Corsica,” Young said adamantly. Granger smiled to himself. That was the standard response from a naval officer who wanted to avoid an unpleasant command. He couldn’t defy orders, or refuse to serve his country, but he could plead ill health. It was a classic ploy, and one much too well-used to try on a seasoned sailor like Jervis.

“That is most unfortunate, Captain. I hope you will recover soon,” Jervis said. He turned to Grey. “Captain Grey, effective immediately you will assume command of the Fortitude. You will return directly to San Fiorenzo. Captain Young, you may seek passage home with the dispatches. We will escort you back to Gibraltar in this vessel.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Grey said. Jervis stared at Young until he muttered “Aye aye sir,” as well.

“Will you shift your flag, sir?” Grey asked. Granger felt a glimmer of hope.

“No, Granger would miss me too much,” Jervis said, joking. “I suspect that even with our stop in Gibraltar we will beat you to Corsica. In fact, perhaps you’d like to stake a wager on it?”

“Ten Guineas, sir?” Grey asked with a grin.

“Done,” Jervis said. He turned to Granger. “Captain, would you send a boat to Fortitude to retrieve Captain Young’s personal effects?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” Granger said. It took precisely two hours to remove Young’s things and get underway. Young was bad company, and retreated to his cabin almost immediately. Granger smiled to himself playfully. It was actually the cabin Grey had been using but technically belonged to Roberts, such was their overcrowding. Granger watched Fortitude come into the wind and spread her sails. He thought that the lumbering 74 presented a beautiful sight, so willingly capturing all of the wind she could. Now get her on a lee shore, Granger thought cynically, and they’d see how beautiful she was.

Belvidera sailed up to Gibraltar but stayed outside the Mole, per Jervis’ orders, hove to. They sent the launch, Belvidera’s biggest boat, into Gibraltar to deposit Young and his things ashore. Jervis fumed impatiently, waiting for the boat to return. Finally, with the launch hoisted aboard, Granger was able to maneuver Belvidera through the Straits and begin the race to San Fiorenzo. By nightfall they had caught up to Fortitude enough that they spotted her topsails just as the sun went down.

“Granger, if you cost me ten guineas it will go badly for you,” Jervis joked at dinner that night.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but if that was any indication of the condition of the fleet, you will have other, more pressing matters besides worrying about someone as insignificant as me,” Granger joked back.

“Sadly Granger, I fear you are right,” Jervis said. “I have a big job ahead of me. Don’t think I won’t take my frustrations out on junior captains.”

“Speaking for all junior captains, sir, we would all gladly be your whipping boys,” Granger said cheekily. He was learning just how far to push Jervis to amuse him without angering him.

“You say Hood put up with you throughout the Siege of Toulon? No wonder he decided to evacuate the place,” Jervis joked back. Granger laughed. It was really the first pleasant dinner he’d had with the admiral.

“His lordship sent me off to England in command of a First Rate, sir,” Granger said. “He thought it an appropriate first command.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t hang you, what with your impertinent tongue,” Jervis growled, jokingly. “Did you serve with Captain Nelson?”

“I had that honor, sir. I accompanied him to Sardinia and Naples to solicit troops for the siege,” Granger said.

“He’s supposed to be full of himself and his own importance,” Jervis said. Granger knew from previous hints Jervis had dropped that he had a high opinion of Nelson, so Jervis was clearly baiting him. Granger hid his irritation.

“I saw nothing of that at all, sir,” Granger said sincerely. “Captain Nelson is a charismatic leader. I found him to be quick-thinking, always ready to take the initiative.”

“Too much so, sometimes,” Jervis said, still trying to lay a trap.

“I think Lord Hood shared your initial impression, sir, and sent me to Naples to keep Captain Nelson from becoming a bull in a china shop. It proved unnecessary. He was quite tactful and diplomatic, not always easy with their Sicilian Majesties.”

“It sounds as if he charmed you?”

“I think that’s inevitable, sir. But it would probably be more accurate to say that he earned my respect,” Granger said.

“Well now, that is something,” Jervis said. He stopped the conversation, and Granger knew that was a sign that the dinner was over. He left, gratefully, and went on deck to check on the ship. Then he went below to wait for Cavendish.

The biggest challenge with Cavendish coming to see him was getting past the marine guard without being spotted. Fortunately Granger had another entry cut in the partition to the chartroom, and with a reasonable amount of stealth, Cavendish could sneak through without attracting the marine’s attention. It made their encounters seem that much more dangerous and exciting.

Granger waited impatiently in his cot, until he heard the door open quietly and saw Cavendish sneak in, grinning broadly. “I’m sorry, sir, I had to wait for the guard to be distracted.”

“It was agony waiting for you,” Granger said, standing up to embrace him. “I want to show you something.” He motioned toward his bed.

“You rearranged your cot,” Cavendish said.

“It’s an old trick,” Granger said. “You pull the cot out just far enough from the wall so that a handsome and slim midshipman can slide down there and hide should someone feel the need to barge in.” Granger fought back the memories that arrangement brought back, the memories of his own times with Travers aboard Barracuda, when Travers had rigged his bed the same way.

“That’s splendid, sir,” Cavendish said, as he stripped off his clothes. Granger followed his lead and climbed into the cot with the handsome young man. Even as they embraced, Granger let his mind wander, comparing Cavendish to his other lovers. With other men, the action almost invariably moved to their groins in short order. Not with Cavendish. They spent hours in bed, just kissing and embracing, enjoying the closeness.

Then, as if their bodies were synchronized, they would get aroused to the point where they would make love, but after that, they would resume their intimate interlude, just enjoying being with each other.

Cavendish pulled away from the embrace and looked Granger in the eye. “I never thought I could feel this way about someone, and I never thought someone could make me feel this way.”

“You underestimated me?” Granger teased. Only the young man looked sad, sad that Granger had taken this display of affection and turned it into a joke.

“I guess I’m nothing special,” he said. Granger reminded himself how fragile the ego of a young male was.

“You are very special. Incredibly special. In fact, you are so special that as we were lying here, embracing, I allowed my mind to think about other men I have been with.” Cavendish looked at him, his eyes angry now. “I have never felt the level of intimacy with anyone that I feel with you.”

His whole face lit up. “Really?”

“Really,” Granger said. “I do love you, Freddie.” Cavendish looked at him, his eyes full of love. Granger realized that was the first time he’d used Cavendish’s Christian name.

“I love you too,” he said. Then they made love one more time before Cavendish had to scurry back to the Midshipman’s berth. Keeping up appearances was vital, especially with Sir John Jervis aboard.