Master and Commander - 16. Chapter 16

September 1794

Granger read the documents as fast as his French would let him. Well, his French and a flickering light that swayed violently with Intrepid's motion. The squall that Barney predicted had arrived just as they'd gotten the last of the men off the Bon Frère. The first waves of the storm crashed into her, flowing through the gaps in her side, and then she was gone. He'd certainly saved some Dutch merchantmen an unpleasant encounter with her in the future, but as he read the documents in his hand, he realized that saving Dutch merchantmen wasn't anyone's priority.

Calvert came into the cabin then, dripping wet and exhilarated from fighting the storm. Granger glared at him. “You are barely healed, and now you've fought a battle and a storm in one day. Go to bed.”

Calvert's smile vanished, but Granger was too irritated to feel guilty. “Aye aye sir,” Calvert said formally, and headed to Granger's day cabin. Granger sat there trying to read, now even more pissed off than before, only this time he was pissed off at himself for venting his anger on Calvert. He sighed, giving himself permission to do that in his own cabin, and read on. Two hours later, he had pieced together the whole scheme.

The Bon Frère was a French privateer in name only. In fact, she was funded with British gold. No, that wasn't entirely correct either. She was paid for by the Honorable East India Company, her mission being to prey on the merchants of Britain's ally, the Netherlands. Of course there was no direct link on these papers he'd read, the players were intentionally anonymous, but it wasn't hard to tell who was involved. All the descriptions, the meetings, the scheming, it all centered back on one individual: Bertie.

Granger put on his oilskins and headed up on deck to check on the ship and the storm that raged around them. He looked up at the rigging although he couldn't see anything in the black night. He'd been in enough storms by now in Intrepid not to be worried, but the prisoners would be scared to death, enduring this storm in a toy like Intrepid after the massive Bon Frère. Granger smiled to himself. It was unlikely they'd want to risk death by drowning in trying to take the ship. Just in case, though, there was a guard below, fully armed, ready to deal with any insurrection.

Granger stood by the taffrail, looking back at the boiling seas behind Intrepid, thinking of this affair and trying to decide what to do about it. No wonder Bertie was rich beyond belief. As the central lynch pin to this whole thing, he must be making a fortune. But preying on one's ally was dishonorable. This was a blackguard affair. Granger, along with his brothers, had been raised to believe that honor was one of the most important values, an indispensable part of being a gentleman. Yet Bertie had thrown that all away, showing himself to be no more honorable than he was moral.

Worse yet, this whole thing must have been sanctioned at the highest levels. Certainly Hobart knew of the plan, probably got a piece of the action, although he'd keep his distance, probably enough to deny the whole thing. It probably went all the way back to London, maybe even the government. Was this some sort of secret national operation? Granger thought about that and pushed it out of his mind. Britain and Holland had been cordial for years now; it was only out here, where the battle for trade was ferocious, that they clashed. This showed that those clashes weren't always just about Pounds and Guilders.

The motivation was the easiest part of the puzzle. The Dutch were a waning power that controlled much of the lucrative trade with the East Indies. Java, Timor, and other Dutch possessions out here brought enormous wealth with their trade in vital materials and luxuries like spices. John Company was trying desperately to compete with them, but it was tough to do with the Dutch stranglehold on the area. It wouldn't be hard to convince the powers that be in John Company to sign off unofficially on a venture to prey on Dutch merchants. And since there was a war on, they just used the French as an excuse. Clearly their plan was to snap up the Dutch possessions and trade, just as the Dutch had snatched them from the Portuguese before.

Well, the jig was up for them now, Bon Frère was no more. But they still had Rattlesnake! She'd be much more effective. A frigate would be more than a match for a slow but well-armed Dutch East Indiaman. She could wreak havoc in the Spice Islands.

Granger's mind shifted back to his visit to Madras. Was this the “trading” that Wilcox was too involved in? Was he getting to close to this thing, and that's why he was being recalled? He wasn't a very good admiral, so his “retirement” certainly wouldn't hurt the service, but Granger felt sorry for him. That would explain why the small craft here were under the flag of John Company. If one of their frigates had encountered Bon Frère, the papers Granger had found would have given her free passage. So Wilcox was stuck with only battleships, and he just kept them sitting in port, useless.

Then Granger thought about how he'd expected Bertie to beg him to stay out here, and how Bertie had graciously acknowledged that he needed to go back to England, with just the right amount of regret to be convincing. Was he trying to get Granger out of the way? Did Granger’s sudden appearance in Madras threaten his plan? Granger shook his head, as if trying to make the whole situation fly out of his brain.

So now the question was what to do about all of this? Granger was politically astute enough to know that if he blew the lid off this thing, made it public, he'd get little thanks from the government and make some very powerful enemies. That didn't really worry him as much as the other repercussions. If the Dutch discovered this devious plan, it may mean war, and not just this penny ante stuff out here, but real war that extended from Europe to the West Indies as well.

No, Granger had to figure out a way to make sure the whole scheme ended now, and that meant he had to get Rattlesnake back, one way or another. Then there would be no Bon Frère, and Rattlesnake would either be destroyed or back in the hands of the Royal Navy. Granger headed back to his cabin and thought about the other matter weighing on his mind, his rudeness to Calvert.

That really was inexcusable. The man had exerted himself beyond all expectations. His coordination of the guns during their battle had been masterly, and he'd spent that time on deck during the storm to give Granger the time he needed to read through all this crap. Without his experience and skill, Granger would have felt the need to be there. No, he had treated Calvert badly, very badly.

He entered his cabin and stripped off his wet clothes, leaving only his shirt and trousers on, then went to his day cabin and knocked gently. He got no response so he went in and found Calvert lying on his back, sound asleep. Granger climbed gently into the cot and lay down next to him, waking him up. Calvert looked up at him and smiled weakly.

“I'm sorry I was an asshole. You were magnificent today,” Granger said.

“You're the captain. You're allowed to be grumpy. I'd rather be no one else's whipping boy, George.”

Granger smiled. “You seemed to be much more recovered from your wound than I thought.” He moved his hand to Calvert's leg, sliding it up seductively. “I'm wondering if you've recovered enough to make love to me.”

Calvert looked at him, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “I think so, if we're careful.” Granger got up and stripped off his trousers and his shirt, his cock sticking out, hard as a rock with the anticipation of being with this man that he loved so much. “I want you to make love to me.”

“Really?” Granger asked.

“Yeah, really,” Calvert said. Granger climbed back in the cot and spooned up behind Calvert, nuzzling his neck and ear while his hands explored Calvert. He took his time, loosening him up well, and then entered him slowly. Calvert groaned.

“Am I hurting you?” Granger asked nervously.

“God, no. I missed you so much. God, I missed this. Just go slow, OK?” Calvert said. So Granger did just that, moving in and out of him so maddeningly slowly that it excited him more than ever. Finally, he could stand it no more.

“Francis, I'm going to cum,” he said urgently.

Calvert moaned softly and pushed his ass back into Granger, begging for his orgasm. Granger obliged, filling him up, the need to be gentle controlling his explosion and making his orgasm last for an eternity. He allowed himself a few minutes to pant and recover, all the while gently stroking Calvert's big dick. Then he gave Calvert one of his best blow jobs.

“That was spectacular,” Calvert said, grinning from ear to ear. “You are the most amazing person.”

“That's funny, I was thinking exactly the same thing about you,” Granger said.

“Good morning Mr. Humphreys!” Granger said cheerfully as he came up on deck. Humphreys stared at him for a minute, surprised by Granger's excellent mood. Humphreys didn't know he'd gotten laid last night, otherwise he'd be less surprised, Granger thought.

“Good morning sir,” he said. “The weather seems to be moderating.”

“Are our prisoners dormant?” Granger asked.

“Most of them were seasick, I shouldn't wonder,” Humphreys said with a smile. “We're keeping an eye on them, but surprisingly enough, they don't seem very militant.”

“What do you mean?”

“They don't seem like other prisoners we've had sir. These men seem almost sedate,” Humphreys observed.

Probably because they knew that regardless of which port Granger took them too, they'd end up free, and because they knew that taking Intrepid would only get them in bigger trouble than they were in now, Granger thought. “Well let's keep on our toes anyway.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said.

“We should reach Mahe today,” Granger observed. As if on cue, there was a cry from the lookout.

“Deck there! Land ho dead ahead!”

“Right now sir, as a matter of fact,” Humphreys said with a grin. “Do you have any orders for me?”

“Not until we're closer to Mahe. Set a course for the harbor. I'll be below,” Granger said. He went below to look at his charts, but they really had no bearing on his plan.

“Your breakfast is ready sir,” Winkler said. “Mr. Calvert wanted to sit up and eat today, so I took the liberty of putting him at your table.”

“That's wonderful.” Granger strode into the dining room and sat with Calvert and started eating, neither one of them saying a thing, just smiling at each other in between bites. They were young lovers again, lovers that had reconnected and remembered the joy they brought to one another.

“Do you feel like going up on deck?” Granger asked as they finished up.

“Certainly,” Calvert said. “Where are we going today?” He was being cheeky and chipper and Granger felt his heart swell with love for this man.

“We're going to Mahe in the Seychelles,” Granger said coyly.

“We going to burn it?”

“No. We're going to make some friends,” Granger said, even more mysteriously. Granger stood up and headed up to the deck, while Calvert hurried to keep up with his brisk pace. They were considerably closer now, close enough to see the island with a glass.

“Set a course to enter the harbor Mr. Humphreys,” Granger said. They stared at him as if he'd grown another head. “I'll be back shortly.” Granger went below and put on his good uniform, not his best one, but his good one. He figured that should be adequate for today, then went back on deck.

“Deck there!” came the cry from the main top. “There's a ship in the harbor, looks like a frigate.” There was a pause. “It's Rattlesnake sir!”

Just as he had planned. “You're not going to just sail in there and fight her are you sir?” Calvert asked.

“Certainly not. Mr. Fitzwilliam, have a parley flag ready to hoist. Mr. Fleming, we'll need a single shot shortly,” Granger said. He watched the port come into view. There was no flag flying from the battery, which made Granger grin. The Governor here, a Monsieur de Quinssy, had already surrendered the island to a British force before. Twice. They'd flushed out the pirates and then left him alone. He probably was waiting to see which flag this new arrival was flying before committing himself.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam, our colors under the parley flag,” Granger ordered. He watched them climb the main mast to ensure they were visible. “Now the single gunshot Mr. Fleming.” That was the sign for a parley. The flag showed their intentions; the gun was an announcement, to show no surprise was intended.

“Aye aye sir,” Fleming said. He pulled the lanyard and the gun fired. Granger heard a bunch of chatter from below, their prisoners wondering if they were sailing into another battle, no doubt.

Granger watched the fort and saw the parley flag rise over French colors. Good. They'd accepted, although he had expected that. He was more concerned with Rattlesnake. Did they have her crewed yet? Ready to fight? In any event, she'd be subject to the parley too. Hopefully her new captain was more honorable than Bertie.

Intrepid sailed to the entrance of the port and was met by a boat, just as he imagined. “Mr. Humphreys, please heave to,” Granger ordered. “Winkler, I'll need some refreshments for our guests.” He scanned the boat and it's occupants. “Mr. Humphreys, we'll need an honor guard. If I'm not mistaken, that's the governor on board.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and gave the orders to assemble the sideboys and the Bosun. “Should we stand to quarters sir?”

“No,” Granger said. He wasn't in a position to fight a battle. Not with his ship already containing more enemy sailors than his own. The boat hooked onto the chains and an older man, probably close to 50, hauled himself aboard with agility. He looked aft and saw Granger, a wily look in his eye. This guy had the look of a schemer.

“Good day Captain,” he said in perfect English. “I am Jean-Batiste Queau de Quinssy, governor of the Seychelles." He bowed slightly, his courtly manner reminiscent of the ancien regime.

"Welcome Your Excellency," Granger said, mimicking his bow. "I am Commander the Honorable George Granger, of his Britannic Majesty's ship Intrepid." Granger saw him blink when he heard Granger’s last name, the same as Bertie's.

“And I must welcome you to the Seychelles, although it is most unusual to do so since our countries are at war, sadly enough,” he said.

“Yet you fly the flag of France, even though you have surrendered your island to Britain. Twice,” Granger said coolly but politely.

“Ah, the exigencies of war,” Quinssy said, turning on his considerable charm.

“Will you join me below for a drink?” Granger asked.

“But of course, with pleasure,” he said, and followed Granger below to his cabin. “Such a beautiful ship. She was once French, I believe.”

“She was,” Granger said. “I am fortunate. French ships have the best designs, and are usually well-built.”

“Only usually monsieur?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“I had the honor to briefly command the Commerce de Marseilles. A magnificent ship, although not entirely seaworthy.”

“Ah. So you were at Toulon last year,” he said.

“I was,” Granger said as he poured them some French wine. Quinssy rambled on about how good it was, about how it felt like he was tasting France again, and other pleasantries.

“So what brings you to our lovely island?” Quinssy asked, finally done with the continental floweriness.

“I have come to retrieve Rattlesnake and her crew,” Granger said.

“You will forgive me if I laugh at that. You are sailing into a French port and demanding the return of a captured English frigate and her crew,” he said.

“Only we both know that she was not captured legitimately, do we not monsieur?” Granger asked. He neither expected nor got an answer. “I encountered the Bon Frère yesterday.”

“Forgive me if I seem surprised,” he said. “You do not appear to have any damage.”

“We did not receive any. We are armed with long guns, the Bon Frère with carronades. We stood off her and pounded her into a wreck.”

“Where is she now?” he asked, concerned.

“At the bottom of the Indian Ocean,” Granger said. “But I have 100 fit men from her, as well as some 50 wounded men, many who need better medical attention than I can provide.”

“So you want to exchange prisoners?” he asked slyly.

“No, I want to exchange prisoners, and I want Rattlesnake back. I also have all of Bon Frère's papers here. I suspect that when the full scope of this operation is revealed, you will no longer be able to maintain your dual relationship,” Granger said.

Quinssy eyed him carefully. “You have a strong hand, monsieur, but not strong enough to demand the return of Rattlesnake,” he said shrewdly.

Granger took out a gold coin, one of the coins he'd gotten from the Spaniards in Tenerife. “I wonder if I added two hundred of these to the equation, if my hand would be strong enough.”

Quinssy looked at him and grinned. Gold, that much gold, must be both rare and prized out here. With that much wealth, he could forget any economic worries. And smooth over the irritated captain of Rattlesnake who would have to surrender his ship. But Rattlesnake was worth far more than that and they both knew it. It was a complex formula. Prisoners for prisoners, and Rattlesnake for gold and silence. “I think that if there were 300 coins it might,” he said.

“So in exchange for the Rattlesnake and all British prisoners you are holding, I offer you all of our prisoners, 300 gold pieces, and my promise of silence on this matter?” Granger asked, summarizing their arrangement.

“I agree,” he said. “You have my word of honor.”

Granger wondered how much that was really worth, but now was not a time to split hairs. “And you have mine.”

“Allow me to show you where to anchor. Then you can come ashore with your prisoners and the gold and I will release your men,” he said.

“I prefer this sequence. We will release your prisoners; you release mine and return them to the Rattlesnake. Then I will transfer the gold ashore, and both ships will leave port,” Granger said.

Quinssy stared at him. Any objection on his part would be a sign of duplicity. “That is acceptable.”

They went up on deck and guided Intrepid to an anchorage quite close to the town. Granger's officers, Calvert most of all, were staring at him curiously. “I'll have the boats swung out,” Granger ordered. “You will begin to transfer the prisoners ashore immediately. Start with the wounded. The fit men can help carry them ashore.”

“Perhaps you would like to come ashore in my boat and meet with your countrymen?” Quinssy asked.

“If you will give me a minute to confer with my officers, I will join you directly,” Granger said, and got a slight bow from Quinssy in agreement. He pulled Calvert and Humphreys off to the side of the deck.

“We are going to trade our French prisoners for our men and the return of Rattlesnake,” Granger said. They stared at him as if he had announced the sky would be turning green. “I am going ashore. If I do not return, you will leave port and sail to Madras. There are papers in my cabin, in my safe, that you will turn over to Sir Evelyn, and no one else. Do you understand?”

“Aye aye sir,” they said, even though they didn't. Granger knew that of all the people in Madras, Fellowes was the only one he could truly trust. Wilcox would make a hash of the affair, and Bertie or Hobart would cover it all up.

Granger strode back to Quinssy and bowed again. “I am at your service, monsieur.” He preceded Quinssy into his boat for the short trip to the pier. There they entered a dilapidated carriage and drove to a small fortress.

“Your prisoners are not always confined here. Most are allowed their parole on the island. With your arrival, it seemed a wise idea to gather them in one place,” he said. They rode into the small fortress and exited the carriage to find themselves surrounded by Englishmen: The crew of the Rattlesnake. Granger noted the informality of their captivity and could understand what Quinssy was saying. He had neither the resources nor the desire to keep these men under lock and key, so instead he'd kept them under loose arrest, probably using them as labor on the local plantations or in town.

“You're English!” One of the men said.

“I am Commander Granger, of Intrepid. Where are your officers?” he asked. As if responding to his question, Granger saw Bergland and two of his lieutenants, along with his warrant officers and midshipmen, emerging from the citadel.

Bergland stared at him in disbelief. “Granger? What, did they capture you too?”

“No sir. I've come to exchange prisoners and seek the release of Rattlesnake. Monsieur de Quinssy will be returning you and your men to your ship shortly,” Granger said.

“You're going to explain all this?” Bergland demanded.

“Yes sir, as soon as we're at sea, if you please,” Granger said, and stared firmly into his eyes.

“Of course. Monsieur, I must thank you for your kindness to me and my men,” Bergland said, remembering his manners.

“It has been my pleasure, so much that I will be saddened by your departure,” Quinssy said. Granger suspected that was probably true, since it meant he'd be losing his free labor.

From that point, things moved smoothly but chaotically forward. Bergland and his men were returned to Rattlesnake, while the French prisoners were offloaded. At dusk, Quinssy came aboard for his gold.

“I hope that you will pleasure us with a visit again, perhaps in happier times when you can enjoy this beautiful island,” Quinssy said.

“I hope for that as well. It truly seems like paradise,” Granger observed.

“Some of our missionaries speculate that this is the true Garden of Eden, and it is certainly plausible,” he said. “But you must sail soon if you are to make the evening tide. I bid you adieu.”

“Thank you Your Excellency,” Granger said, and saw him over the side. “Signal Intrepid to Rattlesnake: Permission to proceed,” he said to Fitzwilliam.

“Rattlesnake to Intrepid: permission granted. She's got her anchor hove short sir!” Fitzwilliam said. Bergland was obviously anxious to get out of here and put this whole incident behind him.

“Mr. Humphreys, take us out of here,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. And with that, Intrepid led her consort out of Mahe and headed once again toward Madras.

Bergland sat across the table from Granger, absorbed in the fabulous dinner Lefavre had made for them. The French had left Rattlesnake stripped of stores, so on their third day out of Mahe, when the seas finally calmed, both ships hove to near each other and Intrepid shipped a goodly amount of her stores over to Rattlesnake. Still, that was just basic fare, so Granger had invited Bergland over for a good meal.

“There was a big French Indiaman, so we swooped down on her. She opened her ports and blasted us apart with her carronades,” he said with his mouth full.

“She was the Bon Frère, sir. We sank her about a week ago. We exchanged her prisoners for you and your crew,” Granger said.

“You make me look bad, Granger. You sink the ship that captured us, and you're half our size,” he said glumly.

Intrepid was bigger than that, but Granger didn't argue the point. “I had an advantage, sir, in that my master knew her and knew she was armed only with carronades. We stood off and blasted her at long range. If you'd had that information, you'd have done the same thing.”

Bergland grinned at him. “Granger, you're an impressive young man. First you save me and my men, then you get our ship back for us, and now you ply me with compliments.”

Granger laughed. “You would do the same for me sir.”

Bergland eyed him sharply. “Aye, that I would. I don't suppose you'd care to explain how you got the French to surrender a frigate, would you?”

“Not without orders from the Governor sir, begging your pardon.” Or more precisely, from the Lieutenant Governor.

“Well, that's all well and good. I'll leave the high politics to you,” Bergland said. “In any event, I should get back to my ship so we can get to Madras. I thank you for a wonderful dinner, and for my freedom.”

“It was a pleasure to accommodate you on both accounts, sir,” Granger said politely. Bergland was a good captain, the kind of man who would win any fair fight put in front of him. But he'd learned from his encounter with Bon Frère. He wouldn't be caught unawares like that again. Granger wondered what Bertie would learn from this experience. Probably nothing, he thought ruefully.