Master and Commander - 26. Chapter 26

March 1795

Granger stood on the deck, trying to decide if Intrepid would clear Antigua on this tack. He knew her so well now, better than any of the lovers he'd had, better than probably he even knew himself. He used his instincts to gauge the various forces acting on her, the most relevant being the southerly wind that pushed her toward the little island just as it pushed her away from it. But Intrepid was a miser when it came to giving up leeway, a better handling ship Granger could not imagine. He decided in the end that she'd make it with room to spare.

“Mr. Humphreys, I'd like to see you in my cabin,” he said. He led Humphreys below, ushering him into his dining room which doubled as his office, what with Calvert in his day cabin. He heard voices in there, voices as they worked to save Calvert's life. He longed to go in there, but ship's business came first.

“Sir?” Humphreys asked, pulling him out of his daydream.

“We've been ordered to do a quick patrol of St. Martin. Admiral Jervis is taking the fleet up to St. Eustacius tomorrow, and we're to make sure there are no French or Dutch battleships waiting to pounce on him in the middle of an invasion.”

“That seems like a wise precaution sir,” Humphreys said.

“I'm going to check on Mr. Calvert. As soon as we clear Antigua, alter course to north-northwest, to St. Martin,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said, and stood up to head on deck.

“I'll inform the other officers at dinner tonight,” Granger said. That was his custom, and it had worked so far.

“I'll have Wilson take the watch then sir,” Humphreys said, then headed off to implement Granger's orders. Granger almost rushed to the day cabin, gently opening the door. It was hot and stuffy; evidently Jackson had closed the windows to prevent turbulence. Granger walked up and looked at Calvert's wound, covered with maggots that he fancied he could see chewing at Calvert's wound. He felt the bile rising in his throat, and knew he had a very short time before he vomited.

“Carry on Doctor,” he croaked, then charged to his privy and vomited his guts out into the bedpan. When Jackson had said unpleasant, he'd been right. How he could stand to be in that sweltering cabin with the smell of gangrene and the sight of the little parasites was beyond him. He returned to his dining room to find Fitzwilliam waiting for him. Granger just stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Can I speak with you for a moment sir?” Fitzwilliam asked. The doctor came out, carrying his little pests, and for some reason that destabilized Granger’s stomach.

“Let us stay out of the doctor's way,” Granger said, leading Fitzwilliam into his sleeping cabin. They sat side by side on his cot and Granger realized that his decision to come in here was flawed. The sexual tension was as thick as London fog.

“Thank you sir,” he said. “I know what you did, and I know what it meant.”

“I'm very proud of the man you've become,” Granger said. “The thought of you perjuring yourself, and how that would haunt you into the future, was too depressing to contemplate.”

“I didn't want to. I told them I didn't, I resisted as long as I could, but I kept feeling smaller and smaller, more and more insignificant. Was my honor too much to sacrifice for England? That was how it was presented,” Fitzwilliam lamented.

“It is unfortunate that there was an effort to hide the truth at all. The thought that this would damage the navy may be incorrect. It might have actually been a good thing,” Granger said. “Captains like Freemantle have no business commanding ships, and this may have let Lord Spencer clear out some of his ilk.”

“Yes sir. You're probably right sir.” Then he looked up at Granger, his eyes so open, so grateful. “You saved me.”

Granger felt his body respond, his face moving closer to Fitzwilliam's. Now their lips were touching, and it was like a tidal wave was released inside both of them. For Granger, it was the uncertainty as to whether Calvert would get lucky and a miracle would save him, combined with the stress of arguing with his admiral, a man he respected. For Fitzwilliam, it was the whole ordeal of his testimony and the pressure that entailed.

Granger pulled his hard dick out and bent Fitzwilliam over the edge of his cot. He got onto his knees behind the midshipman and pulled his trousers down just enough to expose his ass. Fitzwilliam was already panting and thrusting back urgently even as Granger rubbed lanolin on his ass, then he pushed in suddenly and strongly, the intensity being amplified by the abruptness of their coupling. It started out as a rough fuck, the kind of fuck that saw Granger slamming relentlessly into Fitzwilliam's ass, yet at some point, Granger seemed to understand how much he really cared about this young man, about how special he was, and why he'd risked his own career.

Now Granger's thrusts became gentler but longer, and more loving. He moved his mouth to Fitzwilliam's neck and kissed and nuzzled it tenderly. Fitzwilliam craned his head around, and their lips met, a loving and urgent kiss that just fueled their passion. They didn't last long after that, they didn't need to. They'd both found sexual release, they'd both found an emotional balm, and for Granger, he discovered that he genuinely cared about this young man that he'd dismissed before as just a hole to fuck.

Some five days later found Intrepid hove to off what he hoped was St. Eustacius, waiting for dawn, and damning the fog that had descended upon them. Fog here was different than in London. There it was cold and gray; here it was white and muggy. Granger had taken careful sightings yesterday, and they'd been cautious in approaching to avoid inadvertently running ashore. Still, sightings and calculations could be wrong, and land wasn't the only thing he might run into. Jervis might be here as well. That would make him popular, slamming into the admiral's flagship in the middle of the night, Granger thought sarcastically. Intrepid had made quick work of her run to St. Martin and their reconnaissance had revealed no enemy warships.

“Lookouts, keep an eye out for masts as well,” Granger shouted up to them. He heard mumbled “aye aye sirs” wafting down in response. A shape approached him, a smaller shape. Jackson. Granger began to pace the deck with Jackson next to him.

“I wanted to update you on Lieutenant Calvert's progress,” Jackson said. “I plan to remove the maggots as soon as we have adequate light.”

“Can you tell if the therapy has been successful?” Granger asked. He'd spent little time with Calvert. The stuffy cabin combined with the sight of the maggots squirming around in his wound continued to tax his stomach.

“I used the most reliable instrument of all,” he said, pointing at his nose. “The distinctive smell of gangrene has vanished.”

“You mean he is cured?” Granger asked, unable to hide his hope and excitement.

“It is too soon to tell. I will know more this afternoon after we have cleansed the wound and given him some fresh air. The cabin is stuffy, but I had to create an environment that would encourage the maggots. It has worked. They have grown as they've feasted on Mr. Calvert's corrupted skin.”

Talking about this so soon after breakfast was not to Granger's taste. “That's excellent news Doctor. You have saved a dead man. You are perhaps the Messiah?” Granger joked. He couldn't stop his mood from soaring, from flying up to the skies, at the possibility that Calvert might actually survive this.

“I doubt the Messiah will be as big a sinner as I am,” Jackson said with a leer. Granger remembered how good the doctor’s fingers had felt, and how cute his ass was, and had to jam those thoughts down lest he sport an erection on the quarterdeck.

He came out of his quasi-sexual fog to notice that it was significantly lighter. Dawn was upon them. Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun rose and the features and men on the deck became clearer and clearer.

“Land ho! Land on the starboard beam!” yelled the lookout from the main mast. Granger felt a big gust of wind blow, and watched as the fog vanished as if it was a curtain being raised. And then, much to Granger's horror, Oranjestad came into view, as well as Fort Oranje. They'd drifted much too close, and were well within range of that battery.

“Sir, they've hoisted their colors,” Fitzwilliam called, and then looked at Lennox sheepishly. Lennox was in charge of flags and signals.

Granger paused for a minute. He could hoist a French flag and slip away easily, or he could hoist British colors and get bombarded. Hoisting French colors would probably fool the Dutch since Intrepid was French-built, but it would send the wrong symbol. Jervis wanted to awe them into surrender. If they thought a French ship was in the area, they might decide there were more, and that might strengthen their resolve. That and they'd expect Granger to enter harbor and confer with them, and then he'd be right under their guns. “Hoist our colors,” Granger ordered. “Mr. Humphreys, let's get out of range of those guns.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. The watch was called and the men swarmed up the shrouds, taking their station on their masts, or in the afterguard.

“Sir, the Dutch have lowered their colors!” Lennox called. A gun crashed out from the fort, but Granger didn't see any shot fall. They stood there; frozen in time, wondering what these Dutchmen were doing, firing at them and lowering their flag at the same time. “Sir, they're raising their flag under a flag of truce,” Lennox said.

“It seems they want to parley,” Granger mused, unable to hide his surprise. “Hoist a parley flag over our colors.”

“Should we stay hove to?” Humphreys asked nervously. Granger looked about, gauging the distance to the shore.

“No Mr. Humphreys, anchor.” Granger said.

“Anchor sir?” he asked, incredulous.

“Anchor,” Granger repeated. “We are going to parley with them. They won't open fire on us. Besides, we are the spearhead of a large fleet. We should be confident, and show it.”

“You trust them sir?” Humphreys asked. Granger smiled. He was a good first lieutenant, and his first worry was for the good of the ship.

“I do,” Granger said. “The governor is known to be an honorable man.”

“Deck there, boat putting off from the shore,” called one of the lookouts, although it was just as visible from the deck. Granger heard the anchor splash and saw the sails vanish magically from Intrepid's yards as she gave the Dutch a solid display of seamanship.

“Winkler, prepare my cabin for visitors. We'll be entertaining shortly,” Granger said. He scurried off to obey Granger's orders. Granger had rather wondered if the governor himself would come out to see him, but as he looked through his glass, he saw a much younger man in a dragoon uniform. That made him think of Jardines, and just the thought of him was enough to inflame his libido. The man was wearing the uniform of a major as near as Granger could tell, so the honor guard was easy to form. A major had the same honors due him as a naval commander.

Granger watched the entry port as their visitor spryly mounted the side. Granger barely had time to stop himself from gasping. This man looked almost like Travers. The same strong face, the same nose with a hump in it, the same brown hair. It was remarkable. It was only his light brown eyes that destroyed the near-perfect comparison. Granger jolted himself out of his temporary shock and remembered his duties as host.

“I am Commander George Granger, of His Britannic Majesty's ship Intrepid,” Granger said, bowing.

“Major Vincent van den Boss,” he said politely.

“Welcome aboard Major. May I offer you some refreshment?” Granger asked, his gesture suggesting that they go below.

“That would be delightful Captain, but I have come to ask you to call upon our governor. He is older, and boat trips are not to his taste,” van den Boss said with a smile, and in perfect English.

“And who is your governor?” Granger asked.

“His Excellency, Governor Piet van Pelt,” he said.

“I would be happy to accompany you,” Granger said. “Mr. Humphreys, I will be ashore meeting with the governor.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said reluctantly. He didn't want Granger going off with these Dutchmen alone, but that was part of showing a confident hand.

“I am at your service,” Granger said. Van den Boss bowed slightly and grinned. Was that a twinkle in his eye? Van den Boss led him into the boat. Granger noted that the men at the oars were all negros. “So were you surprised at our presence this morning?”

“Not at all,” he said. “We have been expecting you, or at least your fleet.”

That was interesting. It seemed that news that Jervis was on his way was already widely known. Perhaps a Dutch trader spotted the fleet en route. Or perhaps there were spies in Antigua. “Well I feel fortunate to be first, and to see your lovely island,” Granger said politely as he looked out at yet another Caribbean island. They were all starting to look the same to him.

“We are fortunate that you were first as well,” he said. Was that a leer?

“How long have you been here Major?” Granger asked.

“I have been on St. Eustacius for a year now, and before that I spent a year on St. Martin,” he said. “Now, with this new government in place, it seems unlikely that I'll be allowed to go home anytime soon.”

“And where is home?” Granger asked.

“I live near a town you have probably never even heard of: Middleberg.”

Granger smiled. “Actually, I have heard of it. I was in India last year and on our return home we were blown up channel. We were able to get our bearings when we found ourselves off Middleberg.”

“You rescued the Stadtholder! I did not put the name to it. You were the one! You pulled him from a sinking fishing boat and conveyed him to London!”

Granger couldn't tell if he was angry or happy about that, but there was no use denying the truth. “I had that honor,” he said.

Van den Boss smiled. “Thank you,” he said simply, and gave Granger his most magnetic smile. Granger smiled back, initially dodging his eyes, but then locking onto them. Energy passed between them, strong visual energy, energy that was very sexual in nature. It was so intense that Granger was surprised when the boat ground against the dock. Van den Boss led him to a large house near the fort. The distance was short so they walked. Granger smiled. The Dutch were such a practical people. Why waste money and effort on a carriage when it was quite easy to walk?

Granger took time to study the fort and was glad he was exchanging words and not gunfire. It was a formidable structure, built of stone and mounting a number of large caliber cannon. The town itself had a unique charm, a distinctive Dutch look transplanted to the Caribbean. “You have a lovely town,” Granger said politely.

“Thank you,” he said. “I have grown to like it. Perhaps if you have time, I can show you some of it?”

Granger felt his hormones surge and forced them back down. Business first, pleasure later. “It would be my pleasure.” He was sure that would be true. They entered the large house and it was much cooler inside, if only because of the shade. Van den Boss led him through the main room and into a large study. An older man, probably in his 60s, maybe even 70s, rose slowly and walked around his desk. He had a smile on his face, a wily smile, and Granger remembered to be careful with this man, to heed his grandfather's words.

“Governor, allow me to present Commander George Granger. You will recall that he was the man who rescued the Stadtholder when he was forced to flee Holland,” Van den Boss said. “Commander, this is His Excellency Governor Piet van Pelt.”

Van Pelt bowed courteously in an old world manner, a bow which Granger returned politely. “It is a pleasure to make Your Excellency's acquaintance,” Granger said.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said. “I must thank you for your service to our nation, for saving our Stadtholder from drowning.”

“His transfer to my ship was most perilous,” Granger said. “He is a very brave man.” That seemed to appeal to them both mightily. Clearly their allegiance to the Stadtholder was much stronger than he'd anticipated.

“I must also thank you for traveling to see me,” van Pelt said. “At my age, trips in small boats are something I avoid.”

“It was no problem at all, Your Excellency,” Granger said, maintaining the small talk. “It gave me an opportunity to see your beautiful town and island.”

“You are probably wondering why I asked you here, why you were met with a parley flag instead of a cannon ball?” he asked. “It is well known that your Admiral Jervis is on his way with a considerable force. I have no wish to see my beautiful island and my people hurt to no good purpose.”

“Your Excellency is truly a responsible steward of the island and its inhabitants,” Granger said, waiting for the governor to come to the point.

“I am a realist, rather,” he said nonchalantly, looking at his sleeve. “Your navy dominates in these waters. What resources the French allow our countrymen to field will no doubt be used to defend their possessions, not ours. I am too old to fight a protracted battle that will have, in the end, only one outcome.” Granger nodded respectfully. “I have brave men under my command,” he said, looking toward van den Boss, a very flattering reference to the Dutch major, “but I will not ask them to die for nothing. I want to negotiate terms of surrender.”

Granger fought down the elation that came from the capture of a whole island with no shots fired and recognized the pitfalls. “I am most anxious to avoid hostilities as well, Your Excellency. I too would hate to be responsible for injuring your brave men.” He flashed a glance at van den Boss, making sure to add a slight tinge of lust to his expression. “I am not authorized to negotiate a full surrender, and I think such an agreement would be premature on my part since Admiral Jervis is so close.” That last statement was a wish, not a fact, but the expression on the Governor's face showed that he was right.

“So you wish to fight until he arrives?” van Pelt asked playfully.

Granger smiled. “I propose that, instead, we agree to a truce, with our forces to remain in place pending the arrival of Admiral Jervis.”

“I agree to your terms with one exception. I would like to invite your ship to enter harbor, as a sign of good faith, and to protect you from the storms my aides assure me are due to arrive soon,” he said. “You are not being lured in, Commander; I give you my word of honor.”

Granger had no inkling of bad weather. This was just the sort of trick that a good captain watched out for. But he remembered the need to show confidence, and the words of his grandfather. “That is all the assurance that I need, Your Excellency,” Granger said.

“You are a trusting young man,” van Pelt observed.

“Sir Richard Lammert told me you are a man of honor and integrity, someone he would trust with his own life,” Granger said. “He is my grandfather.”

The old governor's face lit up at that. “Well that makes this truly a cause for celebration. I have known your grandfather for years. We have fought against each other and on the same side, but regardless I always knew I could trust him.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency. I feel compelled to relay your words to him when we see each other again,” Granger said.

“Well you must go back to your ship and see her safely into port,” van Pelt said. “Perhaps you can join me for supper this evening?”

Granger bowed courteously. “I would be honored.” Then the meeting was over and he followed van den Boss back to the boat and headed out to Intrepid. He'd thought the Governor was creating weather difficulties but the weather was indeed worsening. The ride out was rough and wet. The ride back would be even wetter, and dangerous.

“Major, perhaps you would allow us to hoist your boat aboard and transport you and your men back to town with us?” Granger asked politely.

Van den Boss looked at the sea nervously. “That may be best. I must thank you for your kindness.”

“I wouldn't want the governor to lose any of his brave men,” Granger said cheekily.

“He would be most upset,” van den Boss replied playfully. Granger preceded the major onto the deck. He saw Humphreys trying to hide his relief at having his captain back on board.

“Mr. Humphreys, please square away and take us in to Oranjestad. We've agreed on a truce, pending the arrival of Admiral Jervis and the negotiation of a full surrender.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“Please hoist the major's boat aboard and accommodate his crew. I don't want them to brave these increasing seas.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said again, and immediately started barking out orders to implement Granger's directions.

Granger had been so excited and busy he had forgotten all about Calvert, but now that he was back on Intrepid, Calvert was front and center in his mind. Granger decided that he could trust Humphreys to maneuver them in. “Major, perhaps you would be so kind as to provide guidance for my first lieutenant? I have to attend to something below.”

“Certainly,” van den Boss said. Granger nodded and then headed below, making sure not to rush, not to look hurried and frantic. He strolled into his cabin and headed more swiftly through to his day cabin. He found Calvert flat on his back, with no one with him. For a minute, Granger panicked, thinking he was dead, but then he saw his chest rising and falling slightly as he breathed.

He moved up and looked at the gory wound on the side of his neck. It looked remarkably healthy, such a change from a few days ago. What's more, Calvert had some of his color back. The pale, emaciated appearance seemed to be fading into the background as he regained his health. Granger sat next to him and took his hand, moving it up to his lips and kissing it affectionately.

“George,” he heard Calvert say softly.

“Shhh. You must rest,” Granger said.

“I feel much improved,” he said. Still, talking seemed to weaken him. “So improved I am hungry.” That was probably a good sign. “Where are we?”

“We are entering St. Eustacius. While you have been sleeping, we have captured an island,” Granger teased. “I must go on deck and see to our arrival. I will come back when I can spend more time.”

“I love you George. I love you so much it hurts,” he said.

“I love you too, Francis, although it may be your wound causing your pain,” Granger said jovially. He leaned down and kissed Calvert, a kiss that was gentle and fervent at the same time. “I'll see about getting you some food as well.”

Granger headed back on deck, pausing only to give Winkler instructions to feed Calvert, to find that Intrepid was entering harbor. He felt her motion calm as she passed the breakwater and entered more sheltered seas. Van den Boss directed them to an anchorage quite close to the town, but diplomatically to the side of the fort so as not to put them in direct cannon shot of its formidable battery.

“The governor will not sup for another few hours. Perhaps you would like to come ashore and see some of the town,” van den Boss said.

“You will be my tour guide?” Granger teased.

“Most certainly,” he said with that look, that twinkle in his eye.

“Mr. Humphreys,” Granger said, calling his first lieutenant over. “I am going ashore to dine with the governor. You may send my gig to pick me up at 8:00.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said dutifully. They were distracted by activity on the deck, activity caused by the stares from the deck toward the town. At first Granger almost panicked, thinking that they were heating shot or something. Instead, they'd raised the British ensign on a flagpole next to the Dutch ensign, both flags whipping frantically in the wind, announcing to the world that while Oranjestad was still Dutch, she was allied with Britain and not France.

They swung the major's boat out and took it ashore, a brief ride now that Intrepid was moored. “So what would you like to see?” the major asked.

“I will leave that up to you,” Granger said.

“Let's start at my house. I will show you how a brave Dutchman lives in the Caribbean.” Granger laughed. This guy was so charming, and very attractive. He led Granger to a small house. “There is not much to see, but I will show you all of it.” He led Granger into his bedroom.

“It is very nice,” Granger said.

“Thank you, but as I said, there is not much to see,” the major said. Granger moved a little closer to him.

“I am thinking that the most interesting thing in Oranjestad is here in this room,” Granger said, allowing his voice to become a little sultry.

“You mean my collection of Delft plates?” he teased, gesturing at the wall, even as he moved closer to Granger.

“No, what lies under this uniform,” Granger said. Their eyes changed from playful to passionate, and they moved closer, quickly. Then they were in each other's arms, their lips meshed and then parted, their tongues wrestling. Van den Boss dropped to his knees and pulled out Granger's hard cock.

“Nice,” he said, and swallowed it in one smooth movement. Granger moaned in response to his expert ministrations, letting van den Boss work his magic, until he brought Granger off in one massive orgasm. Granger had been a little worried that he'd flood the poor man; it had been so long since he'd had sex, at least for him, but the Dutchman swallowed him eagerly.

Van den Boss stood up and kissed him again, letting Granger taste the remnants of his own load. “We should go now,” he said.

“Not yet,” Granger said as he prepared to drop to his own knees and return the favor.

“It is alright, you do not have to do that,” he said.

“I want to,” Granger said.

Van den Boss swallowed. “I am deformed,” he said sadly.

“How?” Granger asked curiously. This man was clearly tortured by whatever physical impairment he had.

“I have only one testicle,” he said. “It makes me look like a freak.” Granger instinctively knew what this man needed, what his ego needed, what his libido needed. He began to strip the man’s clothes off. Van den Boss made to stop him but Granger's grip on his tunic was firm and unyielding, so van den Boss surrendered instead, letting Granger remove piece after piece of his clothing until he stood in the room stark naked.

“You are an amazing male specimen,” Granger said. He pushed the major gently onto the bed, onto his back, and began to explore his body with his mouth and his hands. He looked down as he sucked on van den Boss’s nipples, at his cock throbbing and twitching. The guy was so keyed up already; he was sure to cum soon, probably too soon. Granger moved down lower, down to his hard cock and licked it slightly, then moved down to van den Boss's source of shame.

He had only one testicle, a really large one, which hung there in his sac. It wasn't disgusting; it was actually very sexy, the way it moved around. “You are wrong. You are not deformed, you are sexy as hell. I love it; I love your huge ball.” Then Granger focused on it to reinforce his statement, nuzzling his ball, inhaling his strong male scent, then taking it into his mouth. He used his tongue to roll it around, to lick the sac, and then he sucked on it gently, aware of van den Boss's moans, his thrusting hips. He saw van den Boss's hand stroking his own dick and felt the ball rise as van den Boss brought himself off while Granger worshiped the one testicle he had left. When van den Boss finally finished ejaculating, Granger let his testicle escape from his mouth and sat up to find the Dutchman covered in his own cum, sporting a very large, satisfied grin.

The supper was nice, with guardedly polite conversation followed by old Caribbean war stories. Throughout the whole thing, wine and liquor flowed liberally, so it was a somewhat drunk George Granger that found his gig on the waterfront and managed to haul himself aboard his ship without falling back into the gig. With Herculean effort, he managed to cross the deck and mumble a greeting to Humphreys before going below. Mercifully he made it down the ladder without falling and through the corridor without stumbling, until he was safe in his own cabin.

“Let me help you sir,” Winkler said, guiding him into his sleeping cabin and helping him remove his uniform piece by piece. Granger was about to collapse into his cot when he thought of Calvert. He got up and headed to his day cabin. Calvert was lying there, the wind blowing through the slightly open windows enough to make the air remarkably fresh and cool. He had a sheet and blanket over him, his strong features highlighted by the glow from the light hung from the stern. Granger sat next to him and gazed at his handsome face. He'd have another scar on his neck to go with the one on his abdomen; he looked like a warrior now, even more handsome than before his body had been marred.

Granger thought about Calvert and how he'd gotten here. He had to put his anger at Caroline and his family aside and learn from his mistakes. He and Calvert would have to keep their distance when they were in England, and he would have to talk Calvert into paying attention to Caroline, to flirting and wooing her just as if he himself were her husband. And most of all, Granger knew that when he next returned home, instead of letting Jardines fuck him until he was sore, he'd have to spend time with his family. He took Calvert's hand in his and held it as he sat in the chair next to Calvert's cot. In a short period of time, Granger's head had sagged forward until he'd let it drop onto the bed as well, so he was sitting there, bent almost double, with his head next to Calvert's chest. And that was how he slept that night.