HMS Belvidera - 26. Chapter 26

February, 1796

“We might be able to make Spithead, sir,” Bailey said somberly. He stood next to Granger in the chartroom; swaying with the extreme motion the seas were forcing Belvidera to make.

“We might,” Granger agreed, “but it is not worth the risk.” Bailey nodded, relieved, while Granger stared at the chart. His motives were not entirely altruistic, at least as far as his ship was concerned. Portsmouth would be the easiest port to get in and out of under normal circumstances, but if they anchored there, Cavendish would have to take a carriage to London. As bad as Belvidera’s motion was, he knew it was infinitely better than the jarring of a carriage on winter roads.

Granger went up on deck and found Roberts standing by the binnacle. The man was really all anyone could ask for in a First Lieutenant. “Mr. Roberts, I’d like to see you in my cabin as soon as is convenient.” He was too tired, and it was too difficult to communicate with the howling wind and roaring seas.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger went below, glad to be out of the gale. He knew, though, that in just a short period of time, his Captain’s instincts would reassert themselves and force him back up.

Roberts appeared a few minutes later. “We’re going to make for London,” Granger told him.

“Not Spithead, sir?” Roberts asked. He just wanted to get their precious ship out of this storm as quickly as possible.

“I fear that the winds, blowing as they are, present too grave a risk,” Granger noted. “I also suspect that we’ll have Monsieur de la Haye in London faster this way.”

Roberts looked at him thoughtfully. “I suspect you’re right sir. By the time we worked into Spithead and waited for it to calm enough for small boats, it may be days before we can be rid of him.” He grinned when he said that. “Begging your pardon sir.”

“I daresay no one is as anxious to land Monsieur de la Haye as I, although I have not had the pleasure of his company in the Wardroom,” Granger joked. No one liked the arrogant Frenchman.

Roberts grinned and headed back up on deck, while Granger went in to check on Cavendish. “And how are you today?” he asked.

“Quite well, sir,” Cavendish said. Miguel was there with him. He’d all but appointed himself as Cavendish’s personal valet. The bond between them was really touching.

“We seem to be unable to fetch Spithead with this wind, so we’re going up-channel to London. That will save you a bumpy coach ride.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cavendish said. The doctor came in and pushed Miguel out of the cabin. He uncovered Cavendish’s leg and studied it. It was inflamed still, but it seemed healthy otherwise.

“You should heal up just fine, Mr. Cavendish,” Jackson said.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Cavendish said politely. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s my job,” Jackson said, dismissing any praise. “In any event, you’ve been an easy patient, with no complications. I’m going to give you the name and address of a colleague of mine in London. He fits prosthetics, and he’ll be able to get you as close to new as possible. Don’t go to any of the other hacks in town. Most of them can’t fit a rope through a pulley.”

“Yes sir,” Cavendish said. The doctor left them alone then, and Granger took that opportunity to lean in and kiss the young midshipman. The kiss led to a more passionate embrace, which led to a fleeting sexual encounter. Truly the young man was almost healed, Granger marveled after they were done.

“You seem fully recovered to me,” he joked.

Cavendish laughed, and then got serious. “I wonder what is to become of me now.”

“You are a brilliant young man,” Granger said, recognizing his insecurities and doing his best to pump up his flagging ego. “You have but to pick a career and it will be yours.”

“Really? Then I want to stay here,” he said jovially.

“When you are fully recovered, I would have no objection to you resuming your duties,” Granger said.

“You mean that? You’d let a crippled man go to sea?” Cavendish asked.

“Your mind and the rest of your body are worth much more than just a foot and part of a leg,” Granger said, smiling at him. “But if we are to make port, I must go on deck and see that we don’t end up in Holland.” Cavendish pulled him down for one last kiss, and then Granger went back up to brave the raging winds and seas.

“Let go, Mr. Roberts,” Granger ordered. There was a big splash as Belvidera’s anchor crashed into the water. He’d brought her into Sheerness because it would be easier to re-victual there. “I’ll need my gig swayed out.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said naturally.

“I’ll be in London overnight at least. While I’m gone, see that the ship is re-provisioned.”

“Yes sir,” Roberts said smiling. “We used up a good deal of shot and powder.”

“That we did,” Granger agreed, smiling back at him. He went below to get his portfolio together, and came on deck to find his sea chest being swayed into the gig. As soon as that was taken care of, the bosun’s chair hoisted Cavendish over the side and into the gig. Granger noted how careful the men were. Cavendish had become quite popular.

Just as they were ready to board, Clifton appeared in front of him. “Begging your pardon, sir, but may I accompany you to London? Mr. Roberts has approved my request, contingent on your approval.”

Granger studied the young man and was stunned at how different he was. “Your request is granted, provided that you don’t return on board with the same attitude you originally brought with you.”

“There’s no chance of that, sir,” Clifton said, smiling. “I do need to get some new uniforms, though. Most of the others were tossed overboard.”

Granger laughed then. “I suppose that’s the least I can do,” Granger said. Clifton went over the side, and Granger motioned for de la Haye to follow.

“After you,” the Frenchman insisted.

“While I appreciate your courtesy, Monsieur, it is misplaced. Senior officers are last in the boat,” Granger said.

“I am from the house of de la Haye, with lines back to King Louis IX,” he said arrogantly.

Granger’s eyes narrowed, but he repressed the sigh that this exasperating Frenchman seemed to always summon forth. “I am not going to debate the relative strengths of our family trees, Monsieur. Mr. Cavendish is the son of the Duke of Portland, and he went in before you did. Surely that is accommodation enough?”

De la Haye seemed ready to argue further, but ultimately thought better of it. He stomped to the side and indecorously went over and into the boat. “It seems I have removed your problem and made him my own,” Granger joked to Roberts. “You have the ship.” Then Granger agilely lowered himself into the boat. “Cast off, Jeffers,” he said. “Make for the Admiralty.”

It would have been a long, hard pull but for two things. The first was that the tide was building, and that let them fly up the river with the sea as it attempted to drive the Thames back. The other was the wind, which was just fair enough to make the lugsail useful. In the end, the men had only to trim the sail until they got close to the Admiralty steps.

“Mr. Clifton, please arrange for a carriage to take Mr. Cavendish home, and then you may take it wherever you wish. Jeffers, you can find lodging for the men here in town after you have secured the gig,” Granger said. He gave them both money, and then disembarked. Winkler could be relied on to get himself and Granger’s clothes to Portland Place without orders. “One more thing, Mr. Clifton. I am not sure how long we will be here, so do not leave London.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

Granger merely nodded to de la Haye and then led him up the steps to the Admiralty. Since Belvidera wasn’t expected, no one knew he was here, and that meant that there were no annoying crowds. Or maybe people just didn’t lurk around outside in February when it was freezing cold. Or maybe he wasn’t popular anymore. Granger found that that didn’t worry him at all. They passed the Marine guards and entered the waiting area, where Granger signed in for both of them.

“What is to happen to me?” De la Haye asked. Now that he was in a strange land and nervous, his petulance had receded.

“I suspect that you will be spirited off shortly to the Foreign Ministry,” Granger said. “I’m sure they will see that you are taken care of. If they do not, you may call on me and I will endeavor to help you.”

De la Haye just stared at him. “That is most kind of you, considering I have not been the most pleasant of passengers.”

“I am hoping that you have learned from your mistakes,” Granger said, grinning.

“It is not easy to be chased out of one’s country and labeled a traitor,” he said somberly.

“I suspect it is not,” Granger said soothingly. “But you are not the first to do so. You will find many others who share your noble status and have found need to flee from the Terror.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Monsieur de la Haye?” an Admiralty messenger asked.

“Yes?”

“I am to escort you to the Foreign Office, sir,” the messenger said.

“I will bid you adieu then, Captain,” de la Haye said with a ceremonious bow. Granger returned it politely, then relaxed, relieved to be rid of the Frenchman, even if he did become almost human at the end.

“Begging your pardon sir, but his lordship has asked that you return tomorrow morning at 8:00am,” the Admiralty clerk said. He probably needed some time to go through his papers.

“As his lordship wishes,” Granger said, and then left the Admiralty in what was undoubtedly one of his shortest visits there. He hailed a cab and headed home. He tipped the driver well and paused in the frigid February air to admire this monolith that was his home, then walked boldly up to the door and opened it. Footmen rushed to see who the intruder was, then adopted a respectful tone.

“Welcome home sir,” Cheevers said, appearing from nowhere.

“Thank you, Cheevers. Is my wife here?”

“Yes sir, although I fear she is a bit indisposed,” he said nervously. Granger was going to ask him why, but panic flew through his body, fear that Caroline was ill. He dashed up the stairs, throwing decorum aside, and burst into their bedroom. He heard Caroline in the other room, her sitting room, vomiting. He charged through the door like a madman and found his wife puking into a chamber pot.

“George! You’re home!” she exclaimed, and then vomited again.

Granger sat next to her and put his arm around her. “Now that’s hardly a proper way to welcome me back.”

“I think it is, since this is all your fault,” she said.

“My fault?” Granger asked.

“This is morning sickness. I am with child again,” she said, and smiled at him. He grinned, then smiled, then beamed. Another child.

“You certainly do know how to do your duty,” he teased. She rolled her eyes at him.

“As do you. Are you here for long?” she asked.

“For a few days at least,” he said. She leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“You taste of salt.”

“And now you understand why I so enjoy the baths,” he said. “Join me?”

“I’m not sure if that’s advisable in my condition,” she said. He raised an eyebrow and she smiled. “I will meet you down there.”

Granger gave orders for the pool to be readied, and then Cheevers helped him strip off his uniform and put on a robe. He got to the pool and sank into the heavenly fresh water. He alternately drank it, and submerged himself in it, feeling it leech the salt from his body the way a tick sucks the blood from its victim. It took Caroline a while to join him. She appeared at the edge of the steps and shed her robe, exposing her naked body. Pregnant, with her belly slightly protruding, she almost looked more attractive than when she wasn’t with child. “You are the most beautiful sight,” he said.

She blushed and sank into the water as they made their way toward each other. They embraced, and then kissed, letting the passion build inside them until they coupled with each other. It was so satisfying it was surreal. Granger told her of his exploits, and she told him of all the gossip.

“We must get you new uniforms while you are in town,” she said.

“Has there been another change?” Granger asked. Surely they wouldn’t have revised them again so soon.

“Not in the uniforms, silly, in you. Your shoulders are much broader than they used to be,” she said. She pulled away, pulled back and looked at her husband, who was starting to shed his adolescent handsomeness in exchange for the sheer beauty of a man.

They made love again, and Granger thought of what his life would be like if he were on land. Baths, and sex with Caroline, were almost enough to keep him here. Then he thought of Belvidera, and knew that the sea had just as strong a hold on him.

Winkler helped Granger slip on his dress uniform, and Granger took a moment or two to admire his reflection in the mirror. Caroline was right, his shoulders were broader. Winkler had done his best to alter the jacket, but there was no use for it. He’d need a new one.

“I think I’ll attend the tailor after I go to the Admiralty,” Granger told Winkler. “Send a messenger to alert him.”

“Yes sir,” Winkler said, using a civilian response. It amazed Granger the way Winkler could adapt to changing situations without missing a beat.

“And if you think it would be advisable, you may extend an invitation to Jeffers to stay here while we’re ashore. He can send the gig back to Belvidera,” Granger said.

Winkler smiled broadly. “Aye aye sir,” he slipped, so excited was he. “And thank you sir.”

“It’s the least I can do for you. I really do appreciate the way you take such good care of me,” Granger said sincerely. He didn’t wait for a response; he just smiled at Winkler and descended the stairs to his waiting carriage.

“Admiralty,” he said to the driver, and then climbed into the coach Caroline had bought for them. It was quite the affair, and remarkably well sprung, a good thing considering the state of the roads. He was in a remarkably good mood, almost euphoric, after taking an erotic bath with his wife and then spending the evening playing with his children. They warmed up to him quickly enough, but he hoped that as they got older he’d get to spend more time with them. And now there was to be another one. Caroline had told no one yet, but observant people had already noticed the changes in her body, and the wags had spread the news about town.

So deep in thought was he that he was surprised when the carriage stopped in front of the Admiralty. He walked into the familiar room and wrote down his name. Even this early in the morning, the waiting room was crowded. He scanned the room and noticed someone smiling at him, smiling very broadly. Then their eyes met. There was Calvert, standing off to the side, looking as amazing as the day Granger had first met him. His auburn hair, his boyish face, and his confident stance all combined to make him truly irresistible. And if that wasn’t enough, his smile, that bright white smile, was more than enough to break down the shields of any objecting lady, or man who was so inclined. Granger strode over to him confidently and took both of his hands in his.

“Francis, how wonderful to see you!” he said.

“It’s good to see you too, sir,” Calvert said formally, but couldn’t stop grinning.

“What brings you here?” Granger asked.

“I just arrived from the Caribbean with dispatches. I took the Post Chaise here last night,” he said.

“You must come stay with us,” Granger announced. “What are your plans?”

“I just delivered my packet, and as soon as they release me, I am free for at least the day,” Calvert said.

“I must meet with his lordship, and then I am off to the tailor. Join me. Then we’ll see if we can be finished in time to pay our respects to the King,” Granger said.

“You’re sure I won’t be intruding?” he asked nervously. Granger stared at him, demanding that he realize how ridiculous that question was. “Very well. I will be here when you are finished.”

“Sir,” the secretary said. “His lordship will see you now.” Granger tore his eyes away from Calvert and followed the secretary to the familiar office.

“Granger, welcome home,” the Earl Spencer said cordially. “Jervis get sick of your impudence and send you packing?”

“I fear I am but a small problem in his bowl of large ones, my lord,” Granger said, and shook Spencer’s hand.

“They’re going to be a lot worse if you manage to make enemies of the Spaniards,” Spencer said. Granger almost got alarmed, but saw the twinkle in Spencer’s eye.

“I hope the Spanish were not discommoded by my speedy departure from Roses, my lord. We did pay for all the stores we acquired,” Granger said, being plucky.

“So you say,” Spencer said. “You did well. Your escape from that situation was masterful.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Granger said.

“So how are things in the Mediterranean?” Spencer asked.

“Sir John appears to be shaping up the fleet, my lord. He asked me most urgently to press on your lordship our need for stores and supplies. But for what we have been able to capture or buy, we are short of almost everything.”

“And I suppose you’re here to make sure the politicians bully me into doing just that?” he asked, irritated.

“No, my lord,” Granger lied. “This is a naval matter, best left to the Navy.”

“As God is my witness, Granger, I’ll have you appointed to a diplomatic post before I leave this earth,” Spencer joked. “We’re putting together a convoy of stores and some reinforcements. It will sail in two weeks. You can leave then and join them off Ushant.”

Granger grinned at that, at the prospect of two weeks in London. “Thank you, my lord.”

“You will attend the King this afternoon?” he asked.

“Yes my lord, right after I visit the tailor,” Granger joked.

“You have interesting priorities Granger,” Spencer said. “I will see you there.” Granger bowed and then left the room, almost dashing down the hall so anxious was he to see Calvert. He was waiting, just as he’d promised.

“Come along,” Granger said. “You must see the carriage Caroline bought.” Granger climbed in, leading Calvert up after him. They lowered the shades, and then they were in each other’s arms. Granger thought about the men that he loved and how different they were. He let Calvert spin him around and Granger felt that long thin cock that he knew so well slide into him. It was heaven, and even with only spit for lubrication, it was perfect. They made love long after the carriage stopped, and had to pause to pull themselves together before they went in to see the tailor.

“Captain the Honorable George Granger, Commander Francis Calvert,” Boomed the chamberlain as they entered the Palace of St. James. Granger was about to head directly for the throne when he spotted his father looking over at him. It was the only time Granger ever remembered anyone paying attention when he was announced. He went over to see the Earl first, with Calvert trailing behind him.

“George! When did you return?” the Earl of Bridgemont asked his youngest son.

“Last night, Father,” Granger said. “I had some appointments this morning, but I was hoping to see you here.”

“Your mother will be saddened to learn you are here. Alas, she has gone up to Bridgemont for a bit.”

“Is she well?” Granger asked nervously.

“She and Lady Jersey have been feuding again, so she is taking a break from the situation,” the Earl said with a grin. Then he turned to Calvert. “And welcome home to you as well, Commander.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Calvert said.

The Earl leaned in to speak quietly to them. “It may have been better if you two had come separately. You give your enemies something to talk about.”

Granger hid his horror, that his father had heard rumors that he and Calvert had been more than just officers serving together, more than just friends, and acted outraged. “I can’t imagine these people would think such a thing!” Calvert said nothing, but mirrored his expression.

“I am not sure they believe it, but you must give them no cause to think otherwise,” the Earl said. “In any event, you must go pay your respects.”

“Thank you for the advice, Father,” Granger said. He led Calvert over to the throne, plotting how he would handle it.

They approached the throne, bowing low to the King. “We are most pleased to see you back, Captain,” he said affably. “From whence have you come?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. My ship reached London yesterday, having returned from the Mediterranean, while Commander Calvert reached Portsmouth yesterday as well, coming from Antigua,” Granger said.

“Welcome home,” he said, dismissing them. But Granger had laid the seeds to dispel doubt. Their simultaneous return could be nothing but coincidence, and it would be entirely expected that Granger would host Calvert at Portland Place while he was here.

They split up after that, mingling with the assembled courtiers. Granger spotted a familiar face and hurried over to pay his respects. “Freddie! I am sorry I wasn’t here for your wedding.”

“You were off fighting for King and Country,” his older brother said. He didn’t seem quite as stuffy as he did before. “You know my wife, Davina.”

“What a pleasure to see you again,” Granger said to his new sister-in-law. One of the Duke of Devonshire’s daughters, she couldn’t be considered pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but she was renowned for her charm and culture.

“It is good to see you too, George. If you have time while you are in London, perhaps you can be a good brother-in-law and escort me to a party or two? I fear your wife will have to restrict her activities soon.” She said this with a smile, but Granger had a feeling this was one dangerous woman.

“It would be an honor,” Granger said. He’d have to ask Caroline about her. He wandered around a bit longer, until he found Lord Spencer.

“And how were things with the tailor, Granger?” Spencer asked. He was certainly jovial today.

“Quite well, my lord. It appears my shoulders have broadened a bit too much.”

“Ha. Better your shoulders than your waist line,” he joked. “I am hoping you and Caroline will be able to join us for dinner while you are in London?”

“We would be honored, my lord,” Granger said. He bowed to Spencer, taking his leave, and then noticed a bit of hubbub in the room. The Duke of Clarence had arrived to attend his father. Caroline had told him that the King’s sons always became very nice and very attentive to their father when their debts got too large. He wondered if that was the reason for his visit. Granger watched as the Duke made his obeisance to his father, then moved gradually but purposefully toward his entourage. Granger got to within ten yards before he was spotted. He bowed low, and then approached the Duke.

“Granger! You’re back in town! You must come call on me,” he said.

Granger grinned at him, allowing the slightest leer into his smile. “I would be most happy to do so, Your Royal Highness. I would have done so already but I just arrived yesterday.”

“I shall be at home all day tomorrow, if that is convenient,” he said.

“I will look forward to it, Your Royal Highness,” Granger said, then bowed and backed away. To have a Royal Prince, the second in line to the throne, fuck him was quite a coup. Granger decided he was like the royal mistresses of old, and that almost made him laugh out loud.

He looked across the room and saw Calvert, their eyes meeting and communicating with each other perfectly. They headed for the door, and by the time they entered the carriage and pulled down the blinds, Granger had forgotten all about the Royal Duke.