Master and Commander - 25. Chapter 25

March 1795

“Did you enjoy the bath?” his grandfather asked him as they ate breakfast. Was that a glimmer in his eye?

“It was fabulous. Thank you so much,” Granger said, trying not to gush too much while still showing his grandfather how much he appreciated his kindness.

“I thought it was a strange idea, but now that it's there, I find I use it daily,” he said. Granger thought of Pierce and smiled. He was quite sure his grandfather used it often.

“Your admiral will be over within an hour or so,” Lammert said.

“I thought he was coming to your reception?” Granger asked.

“Sir John is a most ambitious and energetic officer. He would prefer a council of war, to consider this news you have brought us,” Lammert said, smiling. Granger suspected his grandfather was no more indolent than Jervis.

“Who will attend?” Granger asked.

“The senior officers of the vessels at anchor, as well as the military commanders on the island. There is a sizeable garrison of West Indian troops here, and I shan't be sad to see some of them sent off to other destinations.”

“Indeed?” Granger asked. He would assume a governor would be most anxious to marshal his resources, to ensure that his island was well-defended.

“They are scoundrels, most of them, and I have more than enough troops to stop any French ambitions on this island. As it is, the French are more concerned with retaining or recapturing their own possessions,” Lammert observed. Granger thought of Bertie and his opportunistic ways. The West Indian troops were probably just like him. Granger decided that his grandfather was probably right to wish them gone.

“You have been here for so long you must be an expert on these waters and islands,” Granger observed, thinking out loud.

“I am, a fact which would get me invited to councils of war even if I weren't governor,” he joked. “I have made my home out here, even at the cost of not seeing my family. It is not always an easy trade.”

“Yet it is beautiful here,” Granger said. The warm air, the balmy breezes, it was truly paradise.

“You are here during our best season. In the summers it becomes almost unbearably hot, and then in the fall there are the hurricanes. That is a sight to behold,” he said. Granger looked around, as if expecting to see the damage from these storms. “We are high enough that the waves won't reach us, and the house is built solidly enough to withstand the strongest winds. It does get a bit breezy, nonetheless.”

Granger laughed. “I shouldn't wonder.”

“Still, it is something so powerful, so awesome. English Harbour was seemingly formed just to shelter ships in a hurricane, so while the winds blow around furiously, and the ships toss at their anchors, they are still safe in the sanctuary it offers,” Lammert said, almost wistfully.

“You almost make me want to experience it,” Granger said, grinning.

“You certainly don't want to be at sea during one. The odds of survival are not good,” the old admiral said nervously. They gazed out at the harbor and noticed a flurry of activity around the Boyne.

“It would seem the council is on their way,” Granger said.

“They are. I'm not sure how much time we shall have before you must go to sea again, and there is something I want to tell you,” he said. Granger looked at him attentively. “I seemed to have committed a breach of etiquette, done something quite rude.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Granger said, worried that his grandfather had done something to offend Jervis.

“Well it is true. My favorite grandson gets married and has two children, and I have yet to give him a wedding present.”

“Did Freddie get married and have children? When did this happen?” Granger teased.

Lammert laughed. “In any event, I'm setting that to rights. I have a town house in London that does me no good at all. It is in Portland Place, and has been leased these past several years. I have transferred ownership over to you.”

Granger just stared at him. Portland Place was one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in London. This was a huge present. “I do not know what to say, how to thank you.”

“I am glad you have not refused me. The conveyance has already been executed. The house is your gift. Caroline's gift is several thousand pounds to renovate it,” he joked. They would have their own house, their own establishment now. They could entertain and take their place in society in a meaningful way.

“You have given me more than just a house,” Granger said. “You have given me a place in society.”

“No George, you already have that, you just don't realize it. Luckily for you, Caroline does. She's a better politician than you will ever be,” he joked. What did he know about Caroline? Granger began to think there was a lot more to his wife than a doting partner.

“It seems that while I've been at sea, Caroline has been spinning her own web,” Granger observed dryly.

“A good thing too,” Lammert said. “A naval officer needs someone at home to watch out for his best interests.”

“Who looked out for yours?” Granger asked.

“At first it was your grandmother. We didn't get along, and she was most glad to be rid of me. Probably why I spent so much time abroad, she probably maneuvered me out of the country,” he joked. “After she died, your mother filled that role.”

Granger felt himself opening up. “I felt like I could trust her completely, but now that I find she's worked behind my back to get Lieutenant Calvert transferred, I wonder if I still can.”

“That's nonsense George,” he said, irritated. “Lieutenant Calvert was not transferred, he was promoted. She was only trying to help you and your officers.”

Granger thought about that and didn't quite buy it. Caroline certainly would work for him and his officers, but this move was too contrived. “I fear she was trying to separate us,” he said, hoping that didn't sound like an admission that he and Calvert had a relationship.

“I shouldn't wonder,” his grandfather said. Granger just looked at him an unspoken query on his lips. “She would not be the first naval wife to become jealous of a close relationship between a captain and a first lieutenant. You were on a long cruise, and Lieutenant Calvert clearly worships the ground you walk on.”

“And you know all this even though you have not met him?” Granger teased.

“I am well-informed,” he said cagily, but with a smile. “When you returned from India, did you spend much time with Caroline?”

Granger stared at him and felt the guilt flow over him, the anguish of knowing that he hadn't. He could tell that this was almost a rhetorical question, and that his grandfather already knew the answer. “No.”

“And did Lieutenant Calvert pay much attention to her when he came to call, say, in comparison to your friend Captain Travers?” he asked. Calvert had been polite, had been civil, but most of the time he'd been ashore Granger had spent with him alone. Travers had worked to charm Caroline, Calvert had not.

“No,” Granger said knowingly.

“Caroline moved heaven and earth to lobby for John Travers to be appointed to the Aurore,” he said. Granger just stared at him, stunned at this revelation. Caroline was pulling strings?

“I thought it was my father,” he said.

“It was your family,” his grandfather said. “Travers is your friend, he impressed your father, and he paid attention to and charmed Caroline. Calvert did none of those things.”

So Caroline and his family had maneuvered Calvert off the Intrepid and onto the Zenith. Granger felt there was more that wasn't being said, and he was sure he knew what it was. There must have been concern about how close they were. Was he suspected of being a sodomite? “I can begin to see her point. It is just hard to be so dismissive of the whole incident when it has turned out so badly,” Granger said, but it was just pabulum, he was stalling for time to think.

“You blame her for her jealousy, and perhaps that is justified. On the other hand, perhaps you encouraged it with the level of intimacy between you and Mr. Calvert. It is a fine art, maintaining a tight relationship at sea and then letting it relax when ashore.”

Granger didn't want to go there, to talk about this, but he needed to know what people were saying, and to do that he had to take a leap of trust, to open the subject with his grandfather. “Were people talking? Were there suggestions we were inappropriately close?”

“George, you befriended and associate with a known sodomite. I think it's a shrewd move politically because Arthur Teasdale is a powerful man in Parliament. And I think it is an honorable move, because I know he is your friend. But if you lie down with dogs, you rise with fleas. You will always be more suspect because of that.”

“You're right, Arthur is a friend, a good friend, and I won't give that friendship up just to humor those with hypocritical puritanical streaks,” Granger said defiantly.

“Many of the people you allude to surround the King,” he said.

“Does His Majesty think I'm a sodomite?” Granger asked, horrified.

Lammert laughed. “I am not intimate with his views, but I doubt that he does. My understanding is that he views you with much favor.”

“I spend more time at Carlton House than St. James' Palace,” Granger ruminated. “That can't help his view of me, especially if others intimate evil things behind my back.”

“You are being paranoid now,” his grandfather said. “My spies tell me you've handled the situation beautifully.”

“Your spies? You are a modern day Francis Walsingham?” Granger teased.

“When it comes to my family,” Lammert said definitively. “Your father has given you excellent guidance. You always see the King first. His Majesty knows that. You are young, so he expects that you would enjoy the more festive atmosphere of Carlton House. And even though he and the Prince of Wales are not on the best of terms, your show of respect to his son is a show of respect to the monarchy, and thus to him.”

“I never thought about it that way. I rather viewed them as the leaders of two competing factions,” Granger said.

“It is more complicated than that,” Lammert said.

Pierce interrupted them diplomatically. “Sir Richard, Admiral Jervis and his staff are arriving.”

“Thank you Pierce,” Lammert said formally. Granger thought it was funny that his grandfather pretended there was no liaison between the two of them, yet his own formal manner gave away the feelings beneath his veneer to those who knew him, or knew they were a couple. It dawned on him that people who knew him probably figured out about Calvert the same way. “We must go and greet your admiral,” Lammert said, interrupting his intensely interesting discovery.

Granger followed his grandfather into the drawing room to meet Jervis and the other officers. “I'm sorry to cut short your family reunion, Sir Richard,” Jervis said.

“Not to worry Sir John, there will be time later. I have prepared a room for us, if you will follow me.” Lammert led them into the dining room. The table was void of refreshments; it was dominated by a large map of the surrounding islands. Servants were quick to provide glasses for everyone, nonetheless.

“We must tackle this new threat now that we are at war with the Dutch as well,” Jervis said to the assembly. Granger faded into the background as befitted a junior officer, a mere commander in a sea of captains and colonels. “Sir Richard, can you acquaint us with the local Dutch islands?”

“Certainly Sir John. To the northwest lie three islands that are part of the Dutch Antilles. The other Dutch islands, Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaçao, are much further south, near the continent, and do not directly concern us.” He moved his fingers across the map. “The closest is St. Eustacius. It has a good harbor at Oranjestad, and a sizable fort guarding it. The Governor, Piet van Pelt, has been out here for many years. He is an honorable, if wily man.”

“What kind of threat does the island pose to our shipping?” Jervis asked.

“As a haven for privateers it could be quite annoying. As a base for a fleet, it is not as much of a threat. A fleet would find more suitable bases further north, in St. Martin, or south, in Guadalupe or Martinique, assuming the Dutch are working closely with their new allies.”

“So St. Martin is a bigger threat?” Jervis asked. Granger watched him shrewdly. Jervis was well aware of the facts here, he was just drawing Lammert out as a way to make his grandfather feel like a sage, and educate his officers at the same time. Quite cunning.

“It is, especially now that it is not divided between hostile nations. Part of the island is French, part is Dutch, and both sides have good anchorages. Now that they are allied, they can focus on causing external mischief. The Dutch and French governors are both new appointees. I have not met either of them, and from what I hear, I would not even trust them in a parley.” Granger balked at that statement. He could see a French Republican governor throwing honor and courtesy out the window, but a Dutchman?

“How difficult would it be to capture St. Martin?” Jervis asked.

“I think that with the persistent threat of a French recapture of Guadalupe and Martinique, attempting to seize St. Martin would stretch our resources a bit thin. I doubt the resources expended would be worth it anyway. It is possible to send a few small ships to wreak havoc on the island periodically to assure it does not become a reliable haven for privateers.”

“Then the only other island is Saba?” Jervis asked.

“Yes, and it is too small, with no port facilities to speak of, to worry about,” Lammert responded.

“So your suggested strategy, Sir Richard, is to neutralize St. Eustacius while patrolling the seas around St. Martin?” Jervis asked.

“At this time, I think that is probably the best use of our available forces,” Lammert agreed. Granger watched this dance they were performing, these two admirals, showing just the right amount of courtesy and respect to operate a complicated relationship. As an admiral commanding His Majesty's ships and vessels here in the Lesser Antilles, Jervis had responsibility for directing the naval war. As Governor, Lammert had control of the military forces on Antigua, and was considered the most important resource for Jervis. So even though Jervis was in charge of the navy, Lammert had considerable influence on his actions. And then, to further confuse the issue, Lammert, as a full admiral, outranked Jervis, a vice-admiral. That the two men worked with each other respectfully was a positive mark on both their accounts, and lucky for the men who served under them.

“I concur,” Jervis said. Granger noticed that none of the other officers said anything. “Captain Freemantle's court martial is scheduled for tomorrow. Once that is complete, I'll take the fleet to St. Eustacius and see if I can compel the governor to surrender with a mere show of force.” After that, the discussion degenerated into a detailed discussion about the troops that would be needed, and on which ships they'd be embarked. Once that was settled, Jervis dismissed the meeting with a simple look at his flag captain, such was his fearsome reputation.

Granger stood there in limbo, wanting to follow the others as was his place, but wanting to take his leave of his grandfather. “Granger, ride to the dock with me,” Jervis said.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said automatically. He turned to his grandfather and nodded, that and a smile was all that needed to be exchanged, then followed Jervis into the carriage.

“You'll be called to give testimony during the trial tomorrow,” Jervis said. “If it weren't for that, I'd have sent you off already. I want you to patrol around St. Martin, to make sure there are no surprises from that sector while we focus on St. Eustacius.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said again.

“I'll want you to make a quick reconnaissance, just a day or two, and then report to the fleet at St. Eustacius.” He hesitated, and then looked at Granger meaningfully. “You have the first lieutenant of Zenith aboard?”

“Yes sir. Lieutenant Calvert,” Granger said, hiding his apprehension. This was where he'd lose Calvert again.

“He is healthy enough to testify?” Jervis asked.

“He is very weak,” Granger said. “I'm not sure if he should be moved sir.” He saw Jervis' brows narrow. “If you will permit me to consult with Dr. Jackson, I can give you a more definitive answer.”

“Join me for dinner and let me know then,” Jervis ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, snapping to attention. He saw Jervis to his barge and then found his own gig waiting. Evidently his grandfather had signaled for it. How thoughtful.

He climbed into the familiar boat and ignored Jeffers, who was steering, and Cavendish, who was commanding. Still, it felt like he was home, back aboard a piece of Intrepid. He hauled himself up the side confidently, acknowledging the honors and the salutes, and headed straight to Humphreys.

“We've taken on stores and water sir,” Humphreys said.

That was quick work. “Excellent,” Granger said. “I need to see Mr. Calvert and Dr. Jackson. Would you pass the word for them?”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said nervously. “Mr. Calvert's condition has worsened.”

Granger was about to quiz him about that, but he merely nodded. He didn't want to get bad news about Calvert on deck in front of all the others. Instead, he headed down to his cabin, forcing himself to slow his pace. It was important to appear calm and unperturbed. He walked into the day cabin to find Jackson there, holding Calvert's hand. Granger didn't need to be told the problem, he could smell it. Gangrene. Jackson looked at him and their eyes met, while Jackson almost imperceptibly shook his head.

“Sir, the wound has become gangrenous,” Jackson said unnecessarily. Granger felt the tears flow into his eyes as he processed this news and what it meant. Calvert was dying.

“Is there nothing to be done?” Granger asked, unable to hide his despondency. There was no cure for gangrene, unless you could catch it and amputate it out before the whole body was poisoned. They could hardly cut off Calvert's head.

“I have one possibility, but it is most unpleasant,” Jackson said. “And even then, the odds are long.”

“Unpleasant is less bad than dead, Dr. Jackson,” Granger said, irritated. “Explain.”

“The therapy involves covering the wound with a specific type of maggot. I have managed to acquire some. The maggots eat the gangrenous flesh, leaving the live tissue. Once they have completed their task, we will then clean them and the wound off with urine,” Jackson said.

“Maggots and piss?” Granger asked, astounded.

“Yes sir,” Jackson said confidently. “The use of maggots stems back to the middle ages, although it has long been forgotten as a therapy. The use of urine to clean the wound comes from the Aztecs.”

There was no option. Anything was preferable to death. “Very well Doctor, you may try your therapy,” Granger said, then went over to see Calvert.

“George,” he said softly. He was so weak, it was devastating to see this handsome young man, once so alive, so strong, so vital, reduced to this.

“Your wound has become gangrenous Francis,” Granger told him. “With any other doctor, you'd be a dead man, but Dr. Jackson has a unique treatment for you.” Calvert's eyes moved toward his, about the only effort he could stand. Granger stood over him, practically nose to nose, to make that connection. “You must rest, conserve your energy to fight this ill humor that has invaded your body, do you understand?” He saw recognition in Calvert’s eyes.

“I must go Doctor,” Granger said, turning to Jackson. “I am summoned to the flagship. Try your remedy.”

“Aye aye sir,” Jackson said. Granger headed up on deck and stopped to tell Humphreys he was going to the flagship, and then descended into his gig. Jackson was amazing. Where there was no hope, he provided it. Even if this didn't work, even if Calvert didn't make it, at least they were doing something other than just watching him die. He got to the flagship and climbed up her hulking sides, then passed through her entry port. A midshipman guided him aft to Jervis' cabin.

“Granger, come in, be seated,” Jervis said jovially.

“Thank you Sir John,” Granger said as he sat. He paused to think that it had been only a day since he'd arrived in Antigua and first sat in this cabin.

“Will Lieutenant Calvert be able to testify on board tomorrow?” Jervis asked.

“No sir,” Granger said. “He is too weak to utter more than the occasional word. Lieutenant Calvert's wound has become gangrenous.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. You'll be transferring him to the hospital ashore?” Jervis asked.

“No sir, begging your pardon sir. My surgeon wants to try an alternate therapy on him, and in any event, he is too weak to be moved,” Granger said, with as much adamancy as he could risk.

“He was your first lieutenant on your voyage to India?” Jervis asked, seeming to suddenly get that their connection was deeper than normal. Apparently he'd first just thought they'd met when Granger had fished Calvert out of the sea.

“Yes sir, and he is my friend,” Granger said lamely, cursing himself for adding that. No wonder his family was worried about their relationship. He might as well have told Jervis that Calvert fucked him.

Granger looked up at the admiral, so stern and aloof, expecting to see disdain in his eyes, contempt for his weakness, but he saw nothing like that at all. Jervis' expression was kindly, sympathetic, possibly even understanding. “Losing a friend is always difficult, especially for someone such as myself, who doesn't have many.”

Granger stared at him, incredulous that this man would offer not only sympathy, but include a joke. Jervis exchanging jokes with a mere commander? Granger laughed, torn out of his bad mood by this mercurial admiral. “I suspect you have many more friends than you perceive, Sir John.”

“So you say,” he groused. “Well, I'm sorry to summon you over here at such an inopportune moment, but I have a dilemma.”

“Indeed, sir?” asked Granger.

“I need to cashier Freemantle, toss him out of the navy, send him ashore to rot in disgrace, but I need to do it without destroying the reputation and confidence of the navy.”

“I don't understand sir,” Granger said honestly.

“I need a reason for a British ship of the line to strike her colors to a French ship of the line, a good reason,” he said.

“Is not an insane captain reason enough sir?” Granger asked honestly.

Jervis laughed at that. “One would think,” he said. “It has been suggested that Zenith was caught in a strong gale before she encountered the Floreal, and that the gale damaged her to the degree that she could not maneuver, could not fight.”

“I am surprised to hear that Sir John,” Granger said cautiously, “since I heard no comments from any of the crew members about that.”

Jervis' eyes narrowed. “I don't have proof either way, now do I? On the one hand, I have Freemantle stating that was the case. On the other hand, the senior officer is no longer able to testify, which leaves us with a French Lieutenant, an enemy if you will, a midshipman, and members of the crew who obviously don't know the whole story.” And me, Granger thought, he wants me to lie.

“Yes sir, only the midshipman is no ordinary midshipman. He is Lord Milton, the son of the Earl Fitzwilliam. Surely his word cannot be called into question without offending the entire Fitzwilliam family?” Granger could not see that as even a possibility.

“While you were ashore, Mr. Fitzwilliam was summoned aboard my flagship. We were able to revisit his statement, and that is when the subject of this gale came up,” Sir John said. “He suddenly seems to recall it.”

“Sir, I cannot corroborate Captain Freemantle’s testimony. If anything, my own testimony would refute his assertion,” Granger said. And then, he left unsaid, you'd be calling me a liar and disgracing my family. Surely Jervis wasn't that stupid?

“You would refute his statement even if it meant damaging the navy, even if it might mean the survival of your country?” Jervis asked dramatically.

“Is that worth more than honor, sir?” Granger asked candidly. He saw Jervis' eyes flare up, his temper rise, something he was noted for. This was a crucial point, a crucial decision. A conflict between him and Jervis would damage his career, his family, and Jervis. Any victory would be Pyrrhic for either side. Granger forced his mind to think of a solution, and just as the gods had seen fit to damn him, so now they rescued him. “Perhaps there is a solution to the dilemma.”

“I am most anxious to hear it,” Jervis said, his tone threatening.

“Since I cannot in good conscience go before the court and corroborate Captain Freemantle's testimony, I think it would be best if I did not testify at all sir. I am most anxious to ascertain that there are no French or Dutch men-of-war in St. Martin. I'd like to request permission to sail as soon as possible,” Granger said.

Jervis eyed him carefully, his shrewd mind evaluating Granger's proposal. “The safety of my fleet is worth more than any corroborating testimony you can offer. I'll amend your orders so you sail at once.”

“Thank you Sir John,” Granger said gratefully. “I'd like to take Mr. Fitzwilliam with me.”

“His testimony will be needed,” Sir John said dismissively.

“My I speak candidly Sir John, and off the record?” Granger asked, taking what was probably one of the biggest risks of his career so far.

“This once,” Jervis said, but was clearly irritated at Granger's impertinence.

“If Mr. Fitzwilliam corroborates Captain Freemantle's testimony, he will be lying,” Granger said, and then hurried on before Jervis became so enraged he didn't let him finished. “Few people will know, but it will haunt him for the rest of his life.”

“We all have to make sacrifices for King and Country, Granger,” Sir John snapped.

“Yes sir, but Mr. Fitzwilliam is a viscount now, and God forbid, when the Earl, his father, dies, he will become a peer of the realm. If he does this, it will torture him forever. I would suggest that if he did not testify, Captain Freemantle would be left with a stronger case, maybe enough to provide some exoneration.” Jervis stared at him, but Granger gulped and finished his thought. “And a young gentleman may be able to keep his honor and avoid some demons.”

“I am not sure that will provide an adequate presentation of evidence,” Jervis said stubbornly.

“Sir, begging your pardon, but a captain on the panel could easily ask why, if Zenith were so damaged by a storm, why was Floreal seemingly undamaged? If the answer is that Zenith hit the storm and Floreal didn't, that would indicate that they were some distance apart, accounting for the storms of the Atlantic in that area. If that were the case, would not, should not Captain Freemantle have had an opportunity to put his ship to rights before encountering Floreal?” Granger was really pushing the envelope here, but he wanted Jervis to realize how precarious Freemantle's case was.

“You're right Granger, it's quite possible that the court won't believe him, which is why Fitzwilliam's testimony is so important,” Jervis said, clearly losing patience with this whole argument.

“Yes sir, but the court will be comparing factual evidence to the biased testimony of two officers. They may both be found guilty of perjury. I am merely asking you to consider whether Mr. Fitzwilliam's testimony is worth his censure as a liar. I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds sir,” Granger said.

Jervis got up and paced a bit, then turned to Granger. “You're telling me that if I let Fitzwilliam testify, and if they find him guilty of perjury, I'll have one very powerful politician out for my blood.”

“Yes Sir John,” Granger said, deciding not to delve into the ethics of the thing.

Jervis smiled. “God help me if I ever get court-martialed and you're one of the captains on the court.” Granger smiled back. “You can take Mr. Fitzwilliam with you.” He bellowed so the guard outside would hear. “Pass the word for Mr. Fitzwilliam!”

“Thank you for speaking your mind Granger. You probably saved me some heartache in the future,” Jervis said.

“It was my pleasure sir,” Granger said. As befitted a midshipman, Fitzwilliam arrived quite quickly.

“Intrepid is sailing immediately. You're going with her,” Jervis said.

“Yes Sir John,” Fitzwilliam said, clearly overjoyed.

“Did you complete writing your statement for the court yet?” Sir John demanded.

“No sir,” Fitzwilliam said nervously. Clearly this was weighing on him heavily. Granger felt very sorry for him. A young man like that, brow beaten by an admiral and several captains to lie, yet knowing it was wrong? This must be agony.

“That's fine. Destroy what you've written. It won't be needed,” Jervis said. The relief on Fitzwilliam's face was transparent. Sensing they were being dismissed, Granger hurried to leave before some event made Jervis change his mind.

“Then with your permission sir, we will return to the Intrepid and sail at once,” Granger said.

“I'll look forward to meeting you off St. Eustacius shortly,” Jervis said.

They practically ran to the entry port, almost frantic to get off the Boyne. The boat ride over seemed like it took forever, and Granger had to almost physically restrain himself from yelling at the crew to pull harder on the oars.

Finally they were back aboard Intrepid. “Mr. Humphreys, all hands to make sail,” Granger said briskly. “We're getting underway at once.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said. The bosun and his assistants were blowing their whistles almost immediately, and in a mere thirty minutes Intrepid had changed from a dormant, sleeping ship into a live and vital thing. Granger hoped that rebirth was a precursor of a similar metamorphosis for Calvert.