Master and Commander - 7. Chapter 7

May, 1794

“Let's compare our positions,” Granger said to the two midshipmen, Calvert, and Carslake. They reviewed their sightings and subsequent calculations and discovered, much to Granger's delight, that they were all remarkably close. And not only that, they were remarkably close to the Equator.

“Mr. Carslake, I must commend you on your efforts with our young gentlemen. They are becoming fine navigators,” Granger said.

“Thank you sir,” Carslake said, while Lennox and Fitzwilliam just looked down shyly.

“It would appear we shall cross the Equator sometime this evening,” Granger observed.

“That means we should expect a visit from King Neptune and Davy Jones tomorrow, sir,” Carslake said with all seriousness.

“King Neptune?” Lennox asked, wide-eyed.

“Aye lad. King Neptune. He comes aboard with his court to put all the Wogs through initiation. And if he don't like you, he hauls you off and puts you in Davy Jones' locker,” Carslake said, sounding an awful lot like the caricature of a pirate.

“Mr. Carslake, you will be responsible for arranging to welcome His Majesty aboard,” Granger said playfully. “We will have a make and mend day to give you time to prepare.”

“Aye aye sir,” Carslake said, grinning, and ran off to round up the Shellbacks that had made the crossing before. As it was the eve of their crossing, tradition stated that all the Wogs, those who hadn't crossed the line, were to take control of the ship and the Shellbacks, those who had crossed it, were beholden to them. Then, when King Neptune arrived tomorrow, the order would reverse itself, a good incentive for the Wogs not to get carried away.

Granger watched the antics, aloof and uninvolved, and his officers, except the midshipmen, mirrored him. “Lot of to do about nothing,” Jackson said, joining him on his walk.

“Yes Doctor, but it is a good indicator of morale, and that appears to be good. This sort of thing can break up the monotony of a long voyage,” Granger observed.

“I suppose you're right, sir” he said. “Do you think there will be time to go ashore in St. Helena?”

“I don't know. If the convoy is there, and unready to leave, we will stay until they go. If it is ready to sail, or has already gone, our stay will be short. Why?”

“I have a penchant for plants sir, an amateur botanist if you will. It's always nice to explore new areas for something different.”

“Well Doctor, I will try and humor you to the best of my ability. I suspect our healthy company has kept you bored.”

“After the hell of the Aquilla sir, I'm not sorry to have it quiet.” They walked in silence until Granger noticed Andrews.

“Mr. Andrews, I'd like to slaughter two of our pigs and have a feast tomorrow to celebrate crossing the line.”

“Aye aye sir,” Andrews said. He'd been in a remarkably good mood since Tenerife. Granger assumed that having a ship full of free stores made his job much more profitable.

That night the ship was loud and rowdy, as the Wogs played tricks on the Shellbacks. Calvert had the watch, so Granger went below to make sure things didn't get out of control. There was a contest tomorrow to see who could dress up and make the best woman, and that woman would then be anointed Amphitrite, Neptune's consort and part of the “royal court,” along with Davy Jones. It was hilarious to see each mess trying to figure out which man had the best, most feminine features. Granger joked and played along with them, then retreated to the peace and serenity of the wardroom. He heard the muffled snoring coming from all the cabins except one. Humphreys'.

Granger crept closer to the door and listened, the sounds of muffled moans and grunts, and of a cot being worked quite hard. He put his hand on the door, willing himself to stop, but unable to do so. Quietly he opened the door and peeked in, the light of the wardroom blasting in on the little pitch-dark cabin, startling its occupants. There was Humphreys, looking quite magnificent without his clothes on, with his cock buried in Fitzwilliam's ass. They looked at him, horrified.

“As you were gentlemen,” he said, and gently closed the door. He heard frantic whispers, then argument, and then the moaning resumed. Granger retreated to his cabin then, horny as hell. It would be three hours before Calvert was off watch.

Some ten minutes later there was a knock at his door and Humphreys entered, looking incredibly guilty. “What can I do for you Mr. Humphreys?” Granger asked.

Humphreys just stared at him. “I'm sorry for my behavior, sir,” he said.

“Mr. Humphreys, I really do not care what my officers do off watch, unless that behavior impairs the ship. Quite frankly, I'd rather you buggered Mr. Fitzwilliam than got stinking drunk.”

“I don't understand sir. On the Victory you had those men turned in for assaulting Mr. Shafte. I figured I'd share their fate.”

“Mr. Fitzwilliam seemed to be a most willing partner, or did I read that incorrectly?” Granger asked.

“No sir,” Humphreys said blushing. “He is most willing. In fact, he initiated it.”

“Mr. Shafte was not. Mr. Shafte was tied up and raped. Do you see the difference?” Granger asked.

“Yes sir,” Humphreys said.

“Your biggest sin here, Mr. Humphreys, is being indiscreet. I would prefer that if you continue to engage with Mr. Fitzwilliam that you take steps to ensure that you are not discovered,” Granger said severely.

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said. “Can I ask you a question sir?”

“If it pleases you Mr. Humphreys,” said Granger, wanting desperately to end this interview.

“Did you ever do that sir, what I did to Mr. Fitzwilliam?”

“You think it is appropriate to ask your Captain if he is a sodomite Mr. Humphreys?” Granger asked.

“No sir. I'm sorry sir,” he said. “It's just that I was kind of hoping you had sir.”

“Are you planning to try and sleep with me?” Granger asked, and couldn't keep his voice from sounding playful.

“No sir. I mean, I would sir. You have only to ask sir,” he said, blushing furiously. “I just was hoping sir, because I'd really like to be like you some day, to be an officer as good as you are sir. I guess I figured that if you did it, then it wasn't so bad that I did it.”

Granger laughed. “Mr. Humphreys, thank you very much. It is very good to know that a handsome lad like you is willing to be at my beck and call.” Humphreys blushed and smiled at the same time. God, he was cute. “It's also very flattering to know that you consider me to be a role model. And while I won't answer your question, I will tell you that you shouldn't worry about it.”

“Thank you sir,” Humphreys said, and left. Granger sighed and decided to go to bed. He'd need his rest for tomorrow, and he'd really need his rest when Calvert got off duty. He was lying in his bed and had just dozed off when he felt the bed move. He turned around and found himself face to face with Fitzwilliam.

“And just what are you doing here?” he asked. He felt the lad's naked skin against his, felt his hand wrap around Granger's hardening cock, felt his mouth, his lips push against his own.

“I want you sir. Please. I want you so bad,” Fitzwilliam begged. “Please sir. Inside me. I want you inside me now.”

“I cannot do this Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Granger said, even as Fitzwilliam turned around and thrust his ass against Granger's groin. He took Granger's rock hard cock and lined it up against his hole, and pushed back.

“Please sir, just once, just this once. Please,” he begged as he moved his ass, pushing Granger's dick farther and farther inside of him. “Oh God, you feel so good. So good.”

Granger felt his body taking control, felt Fitzwilliam's tight hole acting like a magical spell, but then he stopped and pulled out. “Mr. Fitzwilliam, you are a handsome lad, a very handsome lad, and what I have sampled already makes me crave more, but I can't do this.”

“I'm sorry sir,” he said, almost crying.

“Don't be sorry, it's alright,” Granger said, kissing his neck. “I'm very flattered. It's alright.” He stroked Fitzwilliam's back lovingly until Fitzwilliam relaxed.

“You will let me know if you change your mind sir?” he asked playfully.

“You will be the first to know,” Granger said.

Calvert came into Granger’s cabin after his watch and stripped off his clothes, carefully climbing into bed with his Captain, who he assumed would be asleep. He was wrong. Granger all but assaulted him as soon as he was in bed.

“Someone is horny tonight,” Calvert teased.

Granger said nothing, merely slathered the lanolin on Calvert's cock and sat on it, taking him in with no foreplay and no warning. “Someone is,” Granger said. He pinned Calvert's arms back, taking control, sliding up and down on his cock while he kissed him deeply and urgently. Then he released Calvert's arms, only to feel them wrap tightly around him, urging Granger on with his moans. Granger came first this time, so worked up was he, but he didn't stop for a minute, he kept on going until Calvert had satisfied himself as well.

“What was that all about?” Calvert asked. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“I've had a lot of foreplay,” Granger said, smiling.

“Oh? With whom?” Calvert asked jealously.

“I caught Humphreys fucking Fitzwilliam,” Granger said. Calvert stared at him, his mouth wide open.

“What did you do? You're not going to hang them are you?”

Granger laughed. “You don't think me that big of a hypocrite, do you? I told Humphreys to be more discreet.”

“So you basically condoned it?” he asked.

“I told them I didn't really care what they did off-watch, but I didn't want it to interfere with the ship, and that meant that they had to be careful.” He saw Calvert mulling that over in his mind. “How would you have handled it?” Now Calvert really mulled it over in his mind. Granger just lay there on his side, stroking Calvert's chest, that sexy part at the bottom of his pecs.

“I probably would have fucked it all up, and then wished I'd handled it just like you did,” Calvert said, leaning over to kiss Granger.

“Then Fitzwilliam came and climbed into bed with me while naked and shoved my dick in his ass while I was sleeping,” Granger said. He saw Calvert get pissed off at that, and then try to control it.

“So you fucked him?” he snorted.

“Technically, yes, but not really.”

“You're going to explain that, right?” Calvert asked.

“Yes I penetrated him, for about a minute, and then I pushed him off and told him I couldn't do that,” Granger said. He was quite proud of himself.

“You had your dick buried in his ass and you were able to stop and not fuck him?” Calvert asked, clearly not entirely believing him.

“Yeah,” Granger said. “I don't want him, I want you. I don't love him, I love you.” Calvert turned on his side then, so they were face to face and just gazed into Granger's blue eyes.

“God, I love you,” he said. “You're like a drug and I'm completely addicted.” They made love again, slowly this time, taking time to touch each other, to show each other how much they loved each other, and then drifted off to sleep in a blissful embrace.

The next day the weather was oppressive. HMS Intrepid was becalmed in the doldrums, not a wind or a wave on the sea. The heat of the equator beat down on them, making the ship feel like an oven below deck and not much better on deck.

But this was the day they crossed the equator, and it was a lot of fun. One of the senior crewmen, Harding, dressed up as Neptune and crawled aboard over the prow, as if coming from the sea, followed by another crewman dressed as his sidekick, Davy Jones. Then Farrel emerged in women's clothing, dressed as Amphitrite. Granger stood on the quarterdeck with his officers, trying to look stoic but not quite pulling it off. Farrel looked hilarious.

“Captain, you will yield your ship to the mighty Neptune or you will all follow Davy Jones here to his locker!” shouted Harding.

“I yield to your majesty,” Granger said, bowing as if he were at court. All the men cheered. Then Neptune set up a tribunal and all the Wogs had to come forward and do something particularly disgusting, at which time they were christened as Shellbacks. They had rigged a sail on the deck and filled it with sea water, so the Wogs were forced to strip and wallow in the pool as a bizarre sort of baptism. Granger looked at the pool longingly. It looked cool and refreshing. At the close of the ceremony they had fresh meat and plentiful fruit and vegetables, a veritable feast. Then, to really celebrate, he doubled the grog ration for the day. In the end, most of the crew was drunk, a dangerous thing to be sure, but there was no wind, the sea was dead calm, and so there was little risk of being surprised by an enemy.

Then Neptune yielded the ship back to him and vanished over the prow again, followed by his court. Granger saw Farrel slapping hands away as they tried to pinch him on the ass as he left and couldn't help but laughing yet again. It was a fun day, but now the fun was over, and naval discipline was restored.

June, 1794

HMS Intrepid glided slowly into a very crowded Jamestown harbor, with the lovely island of St. Helena as a perfect backdrop. The entire East India convoy was present; Granger had caught up with them. Granger guided Intrepid in, toward the assembled warships, a two-decker and a frigate, in the same way that a man heads toward his friends at a party.

“There's the old Implacable,” Carslake said. “And that frigate's the Rattlesnake.”

“The Implacable flies a broad pennant. Eleven guns for the Commodore, Mr. Fleming. You may begin your salute now,” Granger ordered. “Mr. Fitzwilliam, identify those ships.”

“Aye aye sir,” Fitzwilliam said as he frantically rifled through his books. “HMS Implacable, 74, Captain Sir Evelyn Fellowes. HMS Rattlesnake, 32, Captain Bergland.” Granger smiled. Fellowes was here, his first Captain, flying a broad pennant as Commodore. Commodore was a temporary rank given to a captain who had nominal charge of a fleet. He heard the shots ring out as Intrepid saluted the Commodore, thus signifying that she was joining the fleet.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam, make 'Intrepid to Flag. Have dispatches.' Mr. Calvert, have my gig swayed out,” Granger ordered. He'd already put on his best uniform, anticipating that he'd be summoned.

“'Flag to Intrepid. Welcome. Captain repair on board forthwith',” Fitzwilliam said, deciphering the message from Implacable.

“You will have to read the flags more quickly Mr. Fitzwilliam. I suspect now that we've joined the convoy you'll have lots of practice. Acknowledge,” Granger said.

He went down to his cabin to grab the dispatch bag and returned to find his gig alongside. “Mr. Calvert, have the mail sent to the ships at anchor and see about taking on fresh water,” Granger ordered. “I'll be aboard Implacable if I am needed.”

“Aye aye sir,” Calvert said. Granger descended into his boat at a deliberate pace, to make sure he looked calm, and to also avoid falling into the sea. He'd done a nice job with his small gig. She was painted Bridgemont blue and cream, like his cabin, and the men wore jumpers of matching blue, with cream colored hats. The hats each had a blue ribbon with “Intrepid” sewn into it. The oar handles were painted cream, while the ends were painted blue. A very tasteful and expensive set up, Granger thought ruefully, but it was important to keep up appearances. Some people judged a ship by her boats. Granger knew how inaccurate such conclusions could be. He'd seen ships with gleaming boats, but with her crew in rags.

His gig pulled up to the side of the Implacable and hooked on to her chains. Fortunately they were in port and things were calm, so climbing up her tall side was no great challenge. The last part of his climb was aided by Implacable's tumblehome. He heard the pipes twitter as he climbed up her side and there were two sideboys to help hand him up, the prescribed compliments due to a mere commander. A Post Captain would have four sideboys, while a Commodore like Fellowes would merit six. Flag officers received eight. Granger allowed himself a fleeting glance around the deck. Implacable seemed so huge after Intrepid. He saluted the quarterdeck and saw Fellowes staring at him, smiling.

“Captain Granger! What a pleasant surprise!” Fellowes said heartily. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you Sir Evelyn,” Granger said, unable to hide his grin. “It is good to see you as well.”

Fellowes introduced him to his officers then led him below to his spacious cabin. It was finished even more nicely than the cabin he'd had on Barracuda. Granger handed him his dispatches. “So what have you been up to Granger? You say you left two weeks after us? You made good time.”

“Yes sir. We captured a brig-of-war in the Bay of Biscay, and had an engagement with a French frigate off Tenerife.”

“Well you can tell me all about your adventures over dinner,” Fellowes said, then got that look in his eyes, that lustful look that so excited Granger when he was a midshipman, and still excited him now. “Would you like to see the rest of my cabin?”

“Very much sir,” Granger said as he followed Fellowes into his sleeping cabin. Fellowes closed the door and pulled Granger to him and kissed him forcefully. Granger felt Fellowes' hands move down his back and under his waistband, grabbing his naked ass and massaging his cheeks. Then his fingers began probing Granger's crack, grazing over his hole, firing up Granger's libido.

“God, I've missed you,” Fellowes said, breaking off their kiss. There was a frantic need, an urgency to Fellowes' moves, the pent up lust completely overwhelming him. In no time at all, Granger's pants were down and Fellowes' huge dick was out, then inside of him as Fellowes fucked him good and hard as he had so many times in the past. Granger paused to contrast Fellowes and Calvert. Calvert was fun, playful, but Fellowes, he was a man. All man. He knew what he wanted and he took it. Granger climaxed before Fellowes, a good thing since Fellowes wouldn't want to spend time pleasuring Granger after he'd achieved his own orgasm. Fellowes ground on, boring into Granger, until he had cum too, then they dressed quickly and furtively, and snuck back out to the main cabin to dine.

“That was a nice welcome sir,” Granger said, still breathless, as they started to eat.

“You may have to dine with me frequently on this voyage,” Fellowes said with a sly grin.

“I am at your service sir,” Granger said. Then he thought about Calvert. Well, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, what was Granger supposed to do? Refuse his commanding officer? Certainly not, especially since he didn't want to.

“So tell me about your voyage here,” Fellowes said. Granger told him of the capture of the brig in the Bay of Biscay. “You seem to have a skill for making prize money,” Fellowes commented.

“I had a good teacher sir,” Granger said, being a little cheeky. He figured that since the man had just fucked him he could afford to be. He described the foul supplies, the stop in Madeira, and the encounter with the French and Spanish frigates. Then he told Fellowes about their meeting with the French 74.

“There's a French 74 wandering around in the South Atlantic?” he asked. As the commander of the only ship of the line in the South Atlantic, the only ship really capable of engaging her, this was a big issue.

“Well sir, we sighted her in the North Atlantic, just north of Tenerife. I think she was there to intercept the Spanish treasure ships, or at least that's what the Frogs we pulled from the Atlantic said.” There had only been six survivors from the explosion.

“That's bad news for our convoys,” Fellowes said. “Especially if she opted to round the Cape and base herself out of Ile de France” Granger wasn't convinced that was her mission, that she was being sent half-way around the world to the Indian Ocean, but it was for Fellowes to figure that out.

Granger could read Fellowes' mind now, wondering whether he should take his warships back to track down and destroy the French ship, or whether he should continue on with the convoy. There really was only one choice. “Well, we shall press on to India. If we run into her, we'll dish her up,” Fellowes said, coming to the same conclusion Granger had.

“How long will we be in port sir?” Granger asked.

“Probably for only one more day, so if you need water or stores, you had better move quickly,” Fellowes said. “We've already been here for three days. The way these merchantmen dawdle about, it will be a wonder if we make it to India by 1795.”

Granger chuckled. “We only need water, so we'll be ready to sail when you order sir.”

“I've already told the convoy of my plans, so let me fill you in. I hope to bypass Capetown. I think there are Frog spies there, and I'd like to avoid passing information off to them if possible,” Fellowes said.

That made sense. “I understand sir.”

“With the monsoons, we should make India without the need for more water or stores,” Fellowes said. “I also want to see if we can effect something against these damned schooners the French are using to attack our convoys.”

“How are they doing that sir?” Granger asked. “It seems that with the Indiamen as well armed as they are, plus your ships, they'd have little effect.”

“It's a very clever plan, and timeless. Divide and conquer,” Fellowes said. “What happens is they come in with several schooners loaded with men. The warships can't fight them all off at once, so they act just like a predator stalking a herd of wild animals. They dart around the convoy, looking for a ship they can maneuver into and board. If they can make off with her, so much the better. If not, they burn her on the spot, usually before the rest of the convoy can respond.”

Granger digested that. “Then how do you plan to deal with them sir?”

“That's where you come in. I'm going to send you ahead to Ile de France. When news comes that our convoy is in sight, they'll sortie from port. I want you to stop them,” Fellowes said.

Granger pondered that. The schooners were fast and handy, more so than Intrepid. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd track them down once they were out of port. “I will certainly try sir,” Granger said.

Fellowes laughed. “I know they can escape from even your ship, either by going into shallow water or by outrunning you. I think your appearance there, off Port Louis, will deter them from leaving.”

Granger understood then. It was a matter of blockade then, not battle. “Are there heavier units at Ile de France sir?” Granger asked.

“We don't know. But anything you can't outgun you should be able to outrun. If it's something we can handle, lead them to us. If you find ten sail of the line, I'd prefer that you didn't,” Fellowes joked.

“Aye aye sir. Ten sail of the line I should handle myself, anything else I lead to you,” Granger joked back.

“That's right Captain Granger. I'll draft orders for you before we leave. You can sail with us until we reach the Cape, then I'll free you to go bother the French,” Fellowes said.

“Do you know if anyone has a good chart of Port Louis sir?” Granger asked.

“I'll see if I can drum up a reliable chart and send it over to you,” Fellowes said.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, and recognizing that dinner and their meeting were over, he stood up to leave.

“I was wondering if you have time for dessert, Captain Granger?” Fellowes said.

“Of course sir,” Granger said, and followed Fellowes back into his sleeping cabin for one more tryst. This time the urgency had abated. This time, it was all about fun, about two men enjoying each other and their bodies. They finished up, breathless and smiling, and re-dressed silently.

Fellowes saw him over the side and back into his own boat. Granger thought about his visit to the flagship. On a professional basis, he was going to have to figure out how to keep the small craft from escaping from Port Louis. That was no mean feat. He put that aside for a bit. On a personal front, he had to decide how he felt about letting Fellowes fuck him. He'd enjoyed it, that was certainly true, he always enjoyed Fellowes. There was a familiarity, a bond between them that made sex special. He didn't have a commitment to Calvert, other than an implied one, and that commitment didn't, in his mind, extend beyond the ship. Yet he loved Calvert and Calvert loved him, and he felt as if he betrayed his trust. Granger decided that he wouldn't have initiated anything with Fellowes, that he was only responding, and that was the loophole he used to assuage his conscience. He told himself that, all things being equal, he would have preferred not to have sex with Fellowes, but then his fussy sense of justice prevailed and he had to recognize that wasn't true either. All of this deliberation had occupied his thoughts so much that he was almost surprised when Intrepid hailed them and Jeffers responded. In the end, there was nothing to be done about it. It had happened, and he would say nothing. That he hoped it would happen again, he refused to allow himself to acknowledge.

Granger climbed up the side and received the standard greeting due a commander, only this time from his own ship. He saluted the quarterdeck then headed straight to Calvert. “How goes the watering?”

“We've started to refill our casks sir. There's a spring near the shore,” he said, pointing in the direction of St. Helena, “with some of the freshest water I've ever tasted. I was planning to refill all the casks. Some of the water we first shipped back in England is a bit rancid now. We should have the task completed by tomorrow evening.”

“We will be sailing day after tomorrow, so we must be done by then,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” Calvert said.

“Carry on Mr. Calvert,” Granger said, then went below to look at his charts. He'd spent a lot of money on maps and charts, but the one of Ile de France was sadly incomplete. He wondered if it dated from the coastal surveys completed by the Dutch while they ruled the island nearly a century earlier, when they called it, Mauritius. From what he could tell, the Port Louis harbor was quite simple. Two shoals at the entrance, forcing all ships into a narrow channel guarded by forts. He wasn't sure what he could effect against it with a mere sloop, but Fellowes clearly expected him to at least bottle it up. How to do that seemed to be his dilemma.