Master and Commander - 28. Chapter 28

April 1795

Lieutenant Humphreys scrambled ashore, the light surf only a minor inconvenience. He was on edge at his first contact with land, half-expecting a volley of musket fire from French soldiers who had discovered him and waited in the scrub to decimate his force. But the volley didn't arrive, and Humphreys wasn't going to wait for it.

“Corporal, send out your scouts. See if you can find that path,” Humphreys said. He looked at the mountain they were expected to climb, hoping they'd find the path. There was only a half moon, so not a lot of light to search with.

“Aye aye sir,” the corporal said.

“Get that boat secured,” he ordered. The men pulled it ashore, not so high that they couldn't launch it quickly, but high enough that it wouldn't float out to sea.

Minutes passed, precious minutes, while he waited for the corporal to come back. The weather was beautiful tonight, a gentle breeze, warm temperatures, this was truly paradise, but none of that appealed to Humphreys now. He fumed, anxious to get moving.

Then the corporal materialized out of nowhere. “Our scouts have found it. This way sir. It's a steep climb,” he said. As if Humphreys didn't know that.

“Follow me,” he hissed at the group. “And no noise.” Humphreys and the corporal led the group, with Fitzwilliam bringing up the rear to hustle on any stragglers. Fitzwilliam in the rear, Humphreys thought, finding that ironic and funny. He climbed up the hill, slipping on the tropical foliage, until he got to a small trail. The foliage, tropical trees and bushes, seemed to envelop them. He began to climb, following the scouts, while the rest of the men plodded along behind them. He felt the sweat pouring from his body, dampening his uniform, and heard the heavy breathing from his men behind him. They weren't used to hiking about on land; it winded all of them.

He heard the sound of hands slapping uniforms, as the men tried to ward off the insects that assaulted them. A particularly annoying insect insisted on buzzing around Humphreys' face, but all his efforts at killing the thing failed, so he gave up trying to shoo it away and tried to ignore it. Finally they came to an opening in the brush.

“Sir,” whispered the corporal. “The fort is just over that rise.”

“Very well,” Humphreys said, urgently trying to stop himself from panting. “Give the men a rest and prepare them for the assault. I will see what we are up against.”

Humphreys snuck up and peered over the rise. There was the fort, and despite the fact that it was the dead of night, he was stunned to see the gate open. He hurried back to the men.

“They don't have the gate shut. We must move quickly. Cold steel only!” The men followed him as he crept toward the gate, amazed at the incompetence of the French commander and garrison. It wasn't until they were through the gate that Humphreys saw his first enemy, a guard who was dozing. He woke up just in time to see the slash of a cutlass that kept his voice from ever sounding an alarm. They tore through the fort, rounding up the French garrison. There were a mere ten men there, not much of a force. Humphreys was astounded at the ease of his operation.

“Sir,” said Fitzwilliam in a normal voice. Humphreys was about to reprimand him until he remembered they'd already taken the fort and silence was no longer important. “I've secured the gate. Mr. Wilson has positioned a pair of nine-pounders loaded with grape to command the road, so we should be able to hold off any force that attacks us.” Humphreys looked at Fitzwilliam as if appraising him for the first time. He was showing remarkable foresight and leadership.

“They don't seem all that worried about us being here,” Humphreys said.

“There's a reason for that sir,” said Cavendish, pointing at the harbor. There, sitting at anchor, the moonlight bathing her with light was a large ship of war.

Wilson came up then, along with some of the other men. “What do you make of her?” Humphreys asked.

“Looks like a small ship of the line sir. Probably 64 guns,” Wilson said. Humphreys gasped. That ship could turn Intrepid into a wreck with one ill-aimed broadside. No wonder the French were so complacent. They had a battleship in harbor to defend them. The fort was superfluous at this point.

“Sir,” Fitzwilliam said. “One of the prisoners said that the ship only arrived today. Apparently there was a big fete tonight, celebrating her arrival.” Humphreys stared out at the port, wondering what to do. What would Granger do? He'd think up something, he'd figure a way out of this, a way to save the day. Yet he had trusted Humphreys with this mission, so now the burden was on Humphreys to find a way out of the trap they'd walked right into. He pushed his self-doubt aside.

“What's that?” he heard Cavendish ask, pointing at a large structure in the middle of the fort.

“That's a furnace for heating shot,” Wilson said. “Burn a ship alive with some well aimed shots.” Humphreys felt the adrenaline rush, the idea forming in his head, the potential solution to his problem.

Humphreys stared at them. “Can you operate it?”

Wilson stared back at him. “I reckon we can sir. We'll have to stoke up these embers and find the equipment.” He walked over to it and inspected the furnace, familiarizing himself with how it worked.

“Mr. Cavendish, you help him. Mr. Fitzwilliam, I want these guns ready to fire as soon as the shot are heated.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said.

“Corporal, you and your marines are responsible for holding off the forces that will be coming after us. You may have to hold off quite a few men.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and tromped off to get his men in order. They were already stoking the fire, tossing fuel onto it, getting it ready to heat shot.

Granger paced the deck, trying to ease the tension that came from sending a quarter of his crew off on an amphibious mission. He worried that they would fall straight into French hands, or that they already had. Then he put those worries aside. Humphreys was a good officer, a bright officer. He'd think his way out of any scuffle he got into. And if he did get into a scuffle, there would surely be some sign. They would be able to see the flash of musket fire even from the ship, or so he hoped.

“Any news sir?” said a voice. Dr. Jackson.

“Not yet,” Granger said. “Walk with me Doctor.”

“With pleasure sir,” Jackson said, and began to pace the deck with Granger in the time honored fashion of the navy.

“Mr. Calvert seems to be recovering quickly,” Granger observed.

“I think it was the toxic humors from the gangrene that had laid him so low. Now that they are gone and the wound is clean, he is healing up quickly. Such a rapid recovery is not unheard of, but with our alternate therapy, it seems he will be up and about in no time at all.”

“You must tell the Admiralty. Perhaps they can use your technique to reduce the effects of gangrene,” Granger said. “It is always such a terrible time, after a battle, when the wounded who don't improve ultimately end up with that dreaded disease.”

“I will try, and we will see if they will listen. I have not known my peers in the medical profession to be overly excited about change and modernization,” Jackson said with a grin. “In the meantime, I will continue to administer it here, with your permission sir, and gather evidence to support my findings.”

“I support you in this fully,” Granger said.

“I'll have to adapt my thinking to accept that we will have hordes of the creatures in sick bay.” Jackson said. Granger chuckled at that, even as he grimaced. He'd had a hard enough time stomaching the things when they were on Calvert. A whole sick bay full of them would require a supreme effort on his part if he were to visit them.

“Boat ahoy!” came a cry. The response came back. It was the gig. Granger waited impatiently for Lennox to mount the side. The midshipman came aboard quickly, clearly agitated.

“Sir!” he said urgently.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Lennox,” Granger admonished. “You must learn to remain impassive in front of the men.”

“I'm sorry sir,” he said, abashed.

“Now what is so important?”

“There's a ship at anchor sir, a warship. Looks to be a small ship of the line. Jeffers thinks it's a 64.” Granger stared at him then, understanding his near-panic. Carslake was next to him now, and Granger could almost feel the man gloating.

“Well, Mr. Carslake, unfortunately it seems you were correct. Your worst fear seems to have materialized.” It would be so easy to blame Carslake for his clairvoyance and take out his irritation on him, but Granger could never bring himself to do something that petty.

“Yes sir. I wish it were otherwise,” Carslake said sincerely, considerably easing the bite of outguessing his captain.

“You did very well, Mr. Lennox,” Granger observed, remembering to praise good work.

“Thank you sir,” he said.

“We will have to figure out a way to salvage this situation. I will be below,” Granger said, and then fled to the safety of his cabin. He needed to think and he couldn't do that when he was surrounded by all those plaintive looks. Granger peered at the chart of Marigot, but only for effect. There was no answer here. He could sail away and leave Humphreys and his men as certain captives. As soon as he thought of that, he knew he could never do it. Yet what else was he to do? Entering port was not an option now. That small battleship would rip Intrepid to pieces with a single broadside. He sighed, since there was no one else around, and headed back up on deck.

“Mr. Humphreys will see the battleship too, and he will hasten back to his boat after he destroys the fort,” Granger said. “Hopefully we can retrieve him and escape before the Frog lumbers out of port.” The others mumbled their assent, but it was cut short by the sound of a cannon shot.

“Sir!” cried the lookout. “That shot came from the fort!” Before Granger could say anything, he augmented his report. “It looks like there's smoke rising from the fort!” Granger smiled.

“What's happening sir?” Lennox asked.

“Well, if I'm not mistaken, Lieutenant Humphreys has taken the fort and spotted the Frog. He's heated shot and is firing at them as we speak.” What must the Frenchmen think, awakened from their slumber to find heated cannon balls lodging into the timbers of their ship, Granger mused.

“I think that shot went over sir,” Cavendish said. The heated shot glowed as it flew through the air, thankfully providing them a trail.

“That shot went over, Mr. Wilson,” Humphreys agreed.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and reduced the elevation. Then he moved to the other gun. They'd drafted the French prisoners for manual labor, despite their objections, and that had given Humphreys enough men to man two cannon and the forge.

The glowing ball came out to the gun, carried on an iron stretcher by two men. The gunner shoved a wet pad in the gun, and then the ball was put into the barrel. Now it was a race to aim the gun and fire it before the ball burned through the wet wad and ignited the powder. Wilson aimed the gun and pulled the lanyard.

“That shot was under!” Cavendish said excitedly. “Sir.” He added that last word after a glare from Humphreys. Now they loaded the first gun again and Wilson checked the aim once more before firing. He pulled the lanyard and the shot crashed out. They watched the glowing orange orb fly through the air and land on the French ship.

“I think that's a hit sir!” Cavendish exclaimed. Humphreys smiled briefly and looked at his watch. Four minutes ago the harbor had been peaceful. He heard trumpets blare as the French called their men to arms. The other gun fired, and it was another hit. Men pulled from their hammocks in the middle of the night, with little idea of what was firing at them, would hardly be functioning at their best. The first gun roared out again. Those balls would be embedding themselves into the Frog's timbers. If one of them, only one, was left to smolder for too long, the whole ship would burst into flames.

“Fire!” Wilson roared, and then the gun did. Another hit.

“Target is shifting sir!” Cavendish said. She'd probably cut her cable, determined to escape from her tormentors. Then they saw a glow, a dull glow inside the Frenchman. Humphreys smiled, and his smile got bigger as the glow got bigger. Then the flames burst forward from the hold and climbed up the masts. There was no hope for her now. This French battleship, which had somehow escaped the blockade off the French coast and sailed to St. Martin, determined to wreak havoc on British ships and trade, would meet her end at the rocks below the fort.

“Sir,” Fitzwilliam said. “They've sighted French troops approaching. Corporal Henderson wants to know if you can spare any men.”

“Mr. Wilson, secure the guns and release their crews to help defend the gate.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. They locked up the French prisoners and shifted their focus from sea to land. Before he could head toward the gate, Cavendish stopped him.

“Look sir!” Cavendish said. The whole harbor was lit up by the French ship, but there, just rounding the breakwater, was Intrepid, sealing the bottle up and trapping the other ships. Humphreys smiled and was about to head to the gate when a massive explosion rocked him, almost knocking him down. The fire had evidently found the Frenchman's magazine. He looked over to where Intrepid should be, hoping she wasn't damaged. He made her out clearly as she sailed by the wreckage of the Frenchmen, evidently unscathed. That he could see her made Humphreys pause and look around. It was considerably lighter now. Dawn was upon them. He headed to the gate in time to see a mass of French troops charging at the gate.

The nine-pounders went off almost in unison, sending canister, hundreds of rounds of musket balls, blasting through the mass of French soldiers. The men frantically reloaded the cannon while Humphreys surveyed the carnage. The force of screaming maniacal Frenchmen had been transformed into a mass of wounded, crying men. They'd survived the first charge.

Granger finally recovered his wits after the explosion of the French ship. It had temporarily blinded and deafened all of them. Intrepid sailed smoothly past the charred remains. “Mr. Carslake, prepare the gig. I want you to send two prize crews to seize those brigs,” Granger said, pointing at the ships in the port. “You can send both of the master's mates to command them until we leave port.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said crisply. The other craft were all small local boats, mostly fishing vessels. Granger was prepared to let them be. He positioned Intrepid just opposite the pretty little town that looked like a Breton village. “Mr. Carslake, I'll have the starboard battery loaded and run out.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“Sir, there's a boat putting off from the shore and heading toward us. She's flying a white flag over French colors,” called the lookout. Granger trained his glass up at the fort where the sounds of musket fire wafted down to them.

The boat came alongside, but Granger had no patience for words when his men were under attack.

“We have come to negotiate a truce,” the Frenchman said.

“You can go back and order your troops down from the mountain, and then we will talk,” Granger said.

“You would dictate terms?” the Frenchman asked rudely.

“Mr. Carslake, one shot at that large building if you please,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and as if for effect he fired one of the cannon closest to the Frenchman's boat. The shot flew into the city and smashed into the building.

“After you have stopped your assault you may come back and we will negotiate terms for your surrender. If it does not cease, I will pound your town into fragments,” Granger said. The Frenchman cast off and headed back to the town, shaking his head furiously. Granger watched through his glass as a horseman galloped up to the troops on the hill, and heard the musket fire cease.

The French boat returned, carrying the same officer who had been out the first time. Granger let him come aboard and greeted him formally.

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

“I am Captain Dumourier,” he said simply. “I have come to convey you to visit the governor.”

“I think it would be more appropriate for your governor to come to me,” Granger said. “In fact, I must insist upon it.” He remembered his grandfather's words about this governor.

“He will be unhappy, and will order the fort to be taken. With the fort under our control, we can destroy you just as you destroyed our warship,” he said.

“By the time your troops take the fort, your town will be a smoldering ruin,” Granger said. “So let us save some time. We are going to destroy your fort and your guns, and then my men are going to march down the hill and return to this ship. We will then take the two brigs we have captured and leave this place, and the fishing boats will not be destroyed.”

“That is out of the question,” he spluttered.

“That is my offer, take it or leave it. The next time we negotiate your fishing boats will be on fire and there will be a substantial fine to pay. The decision is yours, monsieur.”

“I will need to talk to the governor,” he said. They heard an explosion from the fort and looked up, the Frenchman nervously, Granger with a smile. He had ordered them to spike the cannon, which would put them out of action until the touchhole could be repaired. Humphreys was taking advantage of this lull to blow the trunnions off of them, rendering them permanently disabled.

“You have thirty minutes to agree,” Granger said. “You may signify that by raising a white flag over your tricolor.”

“It may take longer,” Dumourier argued.

“And you are wasting time monsieur. My patience is at an end. In thirty minutes, I will begin destroying your town and burning your boats.” Dumourier stared at Granger, his eyes wide, and then fled back to his boat.

“Mr. Carslake, send a crew to retrieve the launch. It will be moored ashore where the landing party left it.” There was no reason to abandon a perfectly good boat if they didn't have to.

“Aye aye sir,” Carslake said, springing into action and sending the jolly boat, Intrepid's smallest, off to retrieve Intrepid's launch.

“Mr. Lennox, I have a mission for you,” Granger said.

“Sir?”

“After the French agree to our terms, I'll want you to ride up to the fort and deliver my orders to Lieutenant Humphreys.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said nervously, but then steeled his nerves and looked at Granger confidently. Granger went below to scrawl out instructions for Humphreys and then came back up on deck in time to see the white flag flying over the tricolor. Granger grinned when he thought about how that alone should irritate the French. The Bourbons of France had used white as their color, so a white flag had clear monarchist meaning.

The French captain returned and led Lennox ashore then gave him a horse and an escort to ride up to the fort. The explosions had continued as Humphreys destroyed gun after gun. Granger watched impatiently as the British flag was lowered from the fort. He saw the men leaving the fort and saw the French rush in behind them, anxious to stop the fuse that Humphreys had lit. He watched Humphreys and his men run from the fort, along with some of the smarter Frenchmen, when suddenly a large explosion rocked the top of the mountain. Granger could see dirt and stone fly through the air as the fuse reached the magazine and set off the whole store of powder. There would be a crater where the fort was. The French could and would rebuild their fort, but it would take a lot of work, and new cannon.

Now Granger's eyes focused through his glass on his men as they marched down the hill in good order. He saw the Frenchmen taunting them, and saw a rock fly through the air at them.

“A gun, Mr. Carslake, aimed at that warehouse over there,” Granger ordered. The gun rang out and a ball crashed into the warehouse. He saw the French soldiers, irate though they were, back off from his men. The landing force wound its way down, enveloped by the foliage, while Granger stared tensely. If the French were to be duplicitous, this would be the perfect time, when they were hidden, to attack them. Finally he saw Humphreys emerge from the trail, followed by his men as they marched through the town.

As they marched by, a man leaned out a window and poured out his chamber pot on some of Intrepid's men. A collective growl went up from the crew, who were watching the spectacle intently.

“Mr. Carslake, let's see if we can't put a cannon ball in that man's house,” Granger said with an evil grin. He wasn’t willing to put up with any nonsense from these Frenchmen, and besides, seeing the ship take care of her own would boost morale. So Intrepid fired a cannonball at the rude man's house and got a perfect hit, taking out a corner timber and causing the whole structure to sag. The men cheered, Granger smiled, and Frenchmen on the shore waved their fists at him.

The launch arrived back in time for Granger to send it over to meet Humphreys, so as soon as they reached the jetty, it was there to pick them up. He watched the boat crawl toward Intrepid, loaded down with all the extra men, until finally it was next to the ship. There were wounded men there, so they were hoisted up first, five of them, and then the other men came pouring up. Humphreys, looking ragged and disheveled, came back to report.

“We captured the fort without loss sir,” he said. “We saw the French 64 there and decided to heat shot. We knew that with her there, we were all in danger. I think that the surprise was so complete they didn't think to douse the balls with water. After that, we endured three assaults from French troops. The fourth assault was just starting when they suddenly ceased fire and backed off. When Mr. Lennox gave us your orders, we finished destroying their guns and lit the fuse for the magazine. After it blew, the French troops got a little unruly, but they calmed themselves after you fired into the city.”

“Your performance was superb,” Granger said. “Are you up to commanding one of the brigs we captured?”

“Yes sir,” he said, with a big grin.

“Excellent. Take your pick, and have Fitzwilliam command the other one. You can have five men each to navigate them.”

“Aye aye sir!” he said cheerfully, and then rushed below to pack up his gear and head over to the brig.

“Sir, the Frog is heading out to us,” Lennox said.

He came aboard, full of indignation and bravado. “You have fired on two of our buildings after we agreed to a truce!”

“And your troops and citizens were harassing my men,” Granger said. “Pray I do not become more irritated.”

“In any event, I have only come to find out when you are leaving,” he said, almost spitting it out.

Granger thought of telling him he'd leave when he was damn well good and ready, but opted to be diplomatic. “In fact, Captain, you have interrupted our final preparations to sail. Allow me to escort you to your boat so we may depart.”

He stormed over the side, and Granger found he could not stop himself from laughing. Such was Revolutionary honor and courtesy. Once again, his grandfather had given him excellent advice.

“Mr. Carslake, take us out of here. Set a course for St. Eustacius,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and Intrepid, trailed by the two brigs, sailed slowly out of Marigot, ignoring the locals who stood on the shore and shook their fists and jeered at them as they left.

“We will have to reconfigure our watch schedules to accommodate the absence of Mr. Humphreys,” Granger said.

“I'll handle that sir,” Carslake said.

Granger noticed Winkler standing there, looking at him firmly. His stomach growled as if just seeing Winkler made him hungry.

“Your breakfast is ready sir,” he said, smirking.

“Thank you Winkler. Mr. Carslake, I’ll be below if I'm needed.” Granger said, and headed down to his cabin to eat. There was a surprise waiting for him. Calvert was sitting there at the table, a bandage over his wound, waiting to eat with him.

“What a pleasant surprise!” Granger said. “You are well enough to sit up and eat!”

“I am sir,” Calvert said. “I feel good, really good. Good enough to return to duty.”

“Francis, just yesterday you could barely stand up, and now you are strong enough to return to duty?” Granger was nervous about that.

“I am. I'm not completely well, but I'm healthy enough to work,” he said.

“Well, I've sent Mr. Humphreys over to command one of the brigs, so that leaves me short a first lieutenant. The job is available, if you think you can handle it.” Granger grinned as he teased Calvert.

“I can handle it sir,” Calvert said, as they both started eating. “But perhaps you need some proof? I was hoping I could show you how well I am after dinner.”

There was much work to do, and that kept them both busy until dinner. Granger led Calvert down to his cabin to eat, but food was the last thing on their minds. Granger grinned then, and began shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could. He and Calvert finished their meal in record time, and then adjourned to his sleeping cabin. They slowly took off their clothes, as if they couldn't believe they were finally together again. Granger smiled as Calvert's large cock sprung out of his trousers, fully erect. That was certainly healthy. They got into bed together, two men, who although the urgency of their hormonal drives fueled them on, were determined to enjoy each other and to not just fuck, but to make love.

They kissed and embraced, and then Granger pulled his legs back allowing Calvert to enter him. It was Granger's favorite position, having Calvert's cock probing into him while his pubic hair brushed against Granger's dick. The combined effect of Calvert's dick probing his ass while his abdomen and his pubic hair rubbed against Granger's cock set him off long before he wanted. Calvert took it in stride, pushing himself to reach orgasm shortly after Granger. Then, exhausted, spent, and euphoric, they slept, wrapped around each other.