The Wardroom - 4. Chapter 4

“That was a really nice dinner,” Granger said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. Travers' servant cleared the table then, leaving them with a bottle of wine.

“That will be all,” Travers said, dismissing him. “I'll call you if I need you.”

“Aye aye sir,” his servant said. He left, pulling the door closed behind him. And then they were alone. They stood up grinning like co-conspirators, moving Granger's cot in front of the door and slowly stripping off their clothes. Then, naked, they stood together, arms around each other, staring at each other, comparing their bodies more like you'd expect midshipmen to do.

Granger's body had filled out over the past few years, transforming him from an adolescent into a man. He was an inch shorter than Travers, and even at 18, had almost no body hair. Travers had the body of a man in his mid-20s, with broad soldiers, a solid chest with some dark hair on it, and an abdomen that had grown more hair since they'd first become lovers. Granger was lithe and slim, Travers was muscular and solid.

Travers tired of gazing and pulled Granger into a kiss, then pulled him over to the bed and pushed him down onto his stomach. He lay on top of Granger, nibbling on his neck and the back of his ears. Then he moved his mouth lower, kissing and touching his back, and his shoulders, then lower, skipping his beautiful little ass and going lower still. He nuzzled his way back up his legs, up his inner thighs, and dove into Granger's perfect taint, slightly swollen with desire, slightly dusted with blond hair. Travers nuzzled and licked his taint, his balls, and then moved higher, to that magic hole that made him feel so good.

He ran his tongue around the rim, licking, darting at Granger's cute pink pucker, then drove his tongue in, wiggling it, letting Granger's moans act as an aphrodisiac. Travers grabbed the lubricant he kept next to his cot, usually for his own purposes, and spread it liberally on Granger's ass and his own cock. Then he moved back up, kissing Granger's neck again, sucking on that spot behind his ear, as he gently guided his cock inside of him.

He felt Granger tighten at first, then moan and relax, welcoming him in. “God, I love this, being inside of you like this,” Travers murmured into his ear. “You make me feel so good. You make me feel so strong, so fulfilled, like such a man.” Granger groaned softly, almost a whimper, as he ground his ass back into Travers, urging him on, letting Travers know how much he enjoyed this feeling. The feeling as Travers plunged into him, setting his whole body on fire. The feel of Travers on top of him, his weight, so massive, so strong, so in control. Granger completely yielded, letting Travers take complete charge, responding enthusiastically to his moves.

“I'm going to cum,” Travers whispered urgently into Granger's ear, and Granger, who had just been along for the ride, letting Travers have his way, was surprised to find himself close to orgasm too.

“Me too. Me too,” Granger chirped as they slammed their bodies together in ecstasy for what seemed like an eternity as they rode the orgasm like a wave. Heaven. Travers lay there on top of Granger, his cock still buried in him, even after they'd finished their orgasms, just enjoying the intimacy, the closeness. Then Travers rolled to his side and Granger sat up and grabbed a rag to wipe up the load he'd shot into the sheets.

“You have to sleep on the wet spot,” he told Travers playfully.

“I'd sleep on rocks if it meant I could sleep with you,” Travers said to him. “It scares me sometimes George, how much I love you.”

“I love you too, just as much,” Granger said, snuggling up to him and kissing him. “Don't be scared. Be happy.”

“When I heard you were wounded, I almost turned into a vegetable I was so distraught,” Travers said.

“We live in a world full of risk. Either one of us could meet our end tomorrow, tonight even. You must promise me that if that happens, you will move on,” Granger said with a maturity way beyond his years.

“It is easy to say, but hard to do. I don't want to forget you.”

Granger smiled up at him. “I know you will never forget me, nor I you. But when I am up in heaven, or more likely down in hell, I want to know that you are happy.” Travers smiled, and nodded.

Granger actually dozed off, a contented sleep, until he was awakened by a familiar movement. He looked down to see Travers smiling up at him as he sucked on his dick. Granger laughed and pulled Travers’ head back down on his cock, savoring the feel of his mouth.

Travers moved up urgently. “I want to do it again, I want you in me.”

“We don't have to do that,” Granger said, knowing that Travers liked to fuck him. The one time he'd fucked Travers, he sensed that Travers didn't like it too much.

“I know, but I want to. Please,” he said, begging. Granger smiled and pushed him down onto his stomach just as Travers had done to him before. Granger mirrored his movements, tasting his salty skin, smelling his masculine odor, until he made it to Travers' taint. Granger took some time to suck and lick on his big balls, taking one in his mouth at a time, before moving back up to his taint. Granger inhaled deeply, letting this, Travers' purest smell, waft up his nose, driving his hormones into a frenzy.

He began to tongue Travers' hole, really rimming him, enjoying his sounds and encouragement. Granger was a better lover now, so he knew to take his time, to work his fingers in slowly and carefully, and to ignore Travers' pleas to be fucked. Finally, when Granger felt he was ready, he moved up and pushed his lubed cockhead against Travers’ hole, pushing forward, demanding entry.

“Come on John, let me in. Didn't my fingers feel good? My dick is going to drive you crazy,” Granger cooed. He felt Travers' sphincter relax a bit, and pushed in more. “I want to feel what you feel, I want to feel your ass wrapped around my cock, I want to feel close to you like you feel close to me.”

Travers moaned loudly and pushed his ass up while Granger pushed in, and Granger felt his dick pierce his ring and enter that magical space where only he had been before. “Oh my God. You feel so good. This is unbelievable. It is like nirvana,” Granger moaned into Travers’ ear.

Granger began to move in and out now, and felt Travers become more enthusiastic with each thrust. Soon he was grinding back into Granger as Granger had ground against him. “I love you so much, John. I love you so much.” Granger breathed these words into Travers ear, while desperately trying to keep his voice level, so keyed up was he. Then he pulled out abruptly and helped Travers turn over onto his back.

Granger was amazed at how big Travers' cock was, how it was throbbing, as he pulled up his legs and re-entered him. Travers put his hands behind his head, giving Granger total control, and total access. Granger began thrusting again, and felt himself building up to his orgasm. He began stroking Travers in time with his thrusts. Then without warning, Travers let out a guttural roar, remembering at the last minute to stifle it so the whole crew didn't hear, as he came. Shot after shot of his thick white liquid blasted across his chest and abdomen as Granger felt his own orgasm rise. He pumped and pumped into Travers, and as long as his orgasm lasted, so did Travers'.

Travers lay there panting, gasping for air. Granger smiled down at him and did what Travers did to him sometimes. He licked Travers cum off his body, slurping it up enthusiastically, even sucking his dick to get the last drops out. Then he moved back up to lie next to Travers, sprawling his body partially across him.

“I never thought there was a feeling as intense as that,” Travers said to him, dazed. “No wonder you want me to fuck you all the time.”

“I should have tried to make you hate it,” Granger teased. “It is this good because you love me so much, and because I love you. Without that, it's fun, but not intense like that.”

“I can't really imagine letting anyone but you do that George,” Travers said. That made Granger nervous. He had really grown to enjoy having a hard dick up his ass, and he didn't want to give that up when they weren't together.

“That's really flattering,” Granger said in the end, knowing it was feeble.

“I don't expect you to give up sex when we're not together George. That's not where I was going,” Travers said, irritated.

Granger sighed. “I'm sorry. It's really hard to love someone so much, but then to be apart from him, from you.” He paused, picking his words. “When I had the Captain to fuck me it helped, because I didn't miss you as much. It was almost bearable.”

“I understand. We're different, you and I, which is why we're so good when we're together. I think you're a more sexual being than I am, and I'm fine with that. I'm not trying to put chains on you,” Travers said.

“The irony here, though, is that as much as I know that, and I know I need my freedom when we're not together, the thought of you with someone else makes me jealous,” Granger said, opening up to Travers like he had to no one before.

Travers laughed. “That's just who you are. It will probably happen George, I get too horny out here alone, but even if it does, I love you. That isn't going to change.”

Granger knew that he'd still be in agony if Travers was fucking someone else, but there was nothing to be done about it. He sighed contentedly, realist that he was, and sank into Travers, enjoying what they had, enjoying the right now.

Granger stood on the quarterdeck with Travers as he prepared to get the Vesuvius underway. It was scalding hot here in the Iberian sun, during the apex of summer. “Mr. Victor, those hands will have to pull harder if we're ever to get that anchor up,” Travers called. What a contrast from Wilcox, Granger thought, who would have threatened them with a flogging.

The drummer and piper began a ditty, giving the men some rhythm to heave to, and that seemed to help. “Anchor's hove short sir!” Victor called.

“Mainmast there!” Travers called. “Loose the topsail!” The canvas fell from its yard as the rings were removed, letting it fall with gravity, and with some help from the afterguard. Granger felt the ship begin to heel and strain now, the wind forcing her forward while the anchor still bit. Then she began to move forward, freed from the seabed.

“Anchor's aweigh sir!” Victor called again, stating the obvious.

“Well done men!” Travers called, encouraging his men, something he'd never heard Fellowes do either. Clearly Travers was finding his own style, and obviously it was working. Granger decided that the smaller the ship, the more informal things had to be. He relaxed and decided to enjoy it. He walked to the taffrail and looked back at Gibraltar, shutting out Travers' orders, and their dutiful responses.

Granger gazed at the Desperate as they sailed past her. She still hadn't left, even though she was supposed to have departed yesterday. He hoped that she wouldn't be joining the Mediterranean Fleet, that she'd just be a fleet auxiliary, but if she did, maybe he would end up with enough influence to have Wilcox removed from her. The man was a scourge to the whole navy. He hoped that Roberts would stay “sick” long enough to avoid going back to her.

There were small craft all over the bay, some British, many Spanish, since the Spaniards were their allies in this war. Granger took a dim view of Spain, a country so often allied with France it was hard to believe they were fighting against her now. He suspected they would be insincere in their efforts, and then chided himself for thinking ill of the King's ally.

Granger really didn't take this war with the French all that seriously anyway. For him, it was a way to bloody his nose, get some experience in battle, and work his way up the ranks. France had at most 75 ships of the line, while Britain had about 115. But those numbers were even more skewed, as Britain's fleet was composed of experienced officers and seamen, while the French navy was leaderless, most of their officers being purged in the revolution. Unless Spain and/or Holland changed sides, or perhaps all the Scandinavian countries allied with France against her, Britain could feel relatively secure behind her wooden walls.

He turned back to watch Travers tack the Vesuvius out of the mole. What an ungainly craft she was. Hard to maneuver, and with a tendency to make lee-way at the rate one would expect from a ship-of-the-line. Yet Travers stood there on her deck, in all his glory, thoroughly enjoying his command. Granger knew that the real reason for that was the two huge mortars midships, the reason Vesuvius had the scantlings of a frigate, and had no foremast. Those two thirteen-inch mortars represented the ultimate in naval artillery, and Travers had a passion for naval artillery.

“You're staring at me,” Travers teased as he walked up to Granger.

“I can't help it. You are the most beautiful thing on earth,” Granger teased back. Travers rolled his eyes and smiled. They began to pace the quarterdeck together. “You have a unique style of command.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Travers asked, irritated.

“Don't get all defensive,” Granger chided. “Unique isn't a bad thing. In fact, I think it's a good thing.”

“Sorry,” Travers muttered guiltily.

“Well if you're going to treat me like your wife and fuck me all the time, I get to make observations about things from time to time,” Granger teased back.

“Being the wife isn't all that bad,” Travers said, and grinned at him. If he weren't still drained from their morning fuck, he'd take Granger down and go at him again. Damn he was fun.

Granger laughed. “No, it's not bad at all.”

“So how am I unique?” Travers asked.

“Well, you encourage your men more than Sir Evelyn did; you have a less formal relationship with your men and crew. I suspect that if there was something bothering them, they'd feel free to come tell you about it. I can't see that happening even on Barracuda. Do you think it's because this is a smaller ship?”

Travers looked thoughtful. “I do. I've heard old, senior Royal Navy captains grouse about that, about the lack of discipline in small ships, but I think it's inevitable. I don't even have a lieutenant, just a couple of master's mates and a midshipman. It makes it more of a team effort.”

“Do you think that this kind of model would work on a larger scale ship?” Granger asked curiously.

“No, I don't,” Travers said instinctively, and then paused to think about why he answered that way. “In a larger ship, the crew and officers are too representative of society as a whole, and they have to reflect the rules and customs of that society. In a smaller ship, that isn't as important.”

“Why?” Granger asked, keenly interested.

“Visualize this George. You're marooned on a deserted island with one other man, let’s say a man from Seven Dials,” he said, referring to one of the seedier sections of London. “You wouldn't normally associate with him socially, you certainly wouldn't have him over for dinner, and you wouldn't go track him down in his rookery without a battalion. But if you were with him, alone on an island, you'd have to interact, befriend each other, no?”

Granger laughed. “You make me sound like a horrible snob. But I suppose you're right.”

“Well, it's a bit of the same thing here.”

“You mean you're all like a lot of blokes from Seven Dials and I'm forced to associate with you?” Granger asked playfully.

Travers smiled back. “Why yes, as a matter of fact, you are stuck here in our rookery Mr. Granger. Be careful we do not sodomize you. Too much.”

Granger laughed. “I must remember to be as careless as possible.”

It was another beautiful July day as Vesuvius plowed across the Mediterranean. And Travers plowed his ass, Granger thought with a smile. For him, this had been like a long honeymoon cruise. Sometimes it felt as if he and Travers were alone on the ship, mere passengers with an invisible crew. But that was not the case, and as Travers had his own executive responsibilities, Granger had left him in his cabin and headed up on deck.

Travers had allowed Mr. Chilton to keep a watch, unusual for a midshipman, but he seemed to think the young man was up to it, and it gave him and the master's mates a nice break. Besides, Chilton's shift always landed during the daylight hours, reducing the risk of a dire emergency.

Granger watched Chilton pace the quarterdeck like a lieutenant and smiled. He joined him in mid stride. A lieutenant never need deign to ask a midshipman if he could join him on a walk. “So you enjoy keeping a watch?” Granger asked.

“Yes sir,” he said. Granger couldn't tell if he wanted his company or not. They turned at the edge and Granger looked at him, at his cute face covered with freckles, his bright red hair, and his bright green eyes. He would be hard to resist.

“You look as if you have some Irish blood in you,” Granger said.

“I do,” Chilton responded defensively. “Sir.” He remembered to add at the end, horrified at such an omission.

“No need to get all defensive about it Mr. Chilton. We're all subjects of the King. Besides, I think you look quite handsome.”

They turned inward and Granger could see him blushing furiously, and grinned at him to make it worse. “Thank you sir,” he stammered uncomfortably.

“You're welcome.” Granger walked with him in silence for a while. “Not every midshipman gets the privilege of a watch at sea.”

“No sir. I mean yes sir. It's quite an honor I think, although Mr. Victor tells me not to get all excited about it. He says he just wants some extra sleep.” The young lad was actually joking with him. Granger burst out laughing, and Chilton joined him.

“Well, whatever the motive, it's good training for you.”

“Yes sir. Mr. Ballvin sir. Can you tell me how he died?” Chilton asked as they turned. Granger looked into his eyes and could feel his pain, share his sadness. He instinctively put his hand on Chilton's shoulder, then took it away and resumed their walk.

“You two had become good friends eh?” Granger asked.

“Yes sir. It was amazing sir, that in such a short time he'd become pretty much my best friend. I guess my only friend.” Granger looked at him sadly. It can't be easy being the only midshipman aboard. He'd thrived on the camaraderie of his fellow middies. That made him think of Bell, who looked a lot like Chilton.

“I made some good friends among my fellow midshipmen as well. To be out here without a companion must be tough for you.”

“Yes sir,” Chilton said, his tone belying his sadness.

“Mr. Ballvin was very brave up to the end. And the end came blessedly quickly. We were almost finished with the battle, although we didn't know it at the time, when a ball from the French frigate flew through one of the ports and slammed into him, cutting him in two. I was near him, near enough to rush over to him, but he died so suddenly it was too late to even say anything.” Granger felt tears in his eyes and paused, opening them wide and staring at the wind to let the air evaporate his tears.

Chilton swallowed. “He really looked up to you sir. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“He was my friend too Mr. Chilton,” Granger said, more coldly than he had wanted to. It was taking all of his emotional resources to block the pain of losing Ballvin. “It would be nice to add you to that category.”

“Sir?” Chilton asked, stunned.

“I'd like to consider you a friend Mr. Chilton, if you would be willing to grant me that honor,” Granger said, knowing that he was really unsettling the lad's mind. Lieutenants, and certainly not flag lieutenants, never condescended to talk to midshipman like this, and never befriended them in this manner.

“Yes sir. Thank you sir. I'd like that sir,” he said cheerfully.

“Well then, you can start by joining me for dinner tonight,” Granger said, hoping Travers didn't get too pissed off at him.

“Will the Captain be alright with that sir?” Chilton asked nervously.

“He has not yet told me that I am not allowed to have dinner parties, so I'm assuming it's alright,” Granger teased. “Don't worry about it.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” Granger smiled and headed below to talk to Travers. He found him hard at work behind his desk.

“Do you mind if I have a dinner party this afternoon?” he asked, interrupting Travers.

“Fine. Do what you want,” he said gruffly as he looked at his books. Granger stared at him, and Travers relented and paid attention to him. “Whom are you inviting?”

“Just you and me and Mr. Chilton.”

“Chilton? You're inviting him? I thought you hated him?” Travers was thoroughly nonplussed by this latest move.

“He's a good lad John, but he's lonely. It can't be easy to be the only midshipman aboard.”

“You're telling me that I'm neglecting the lad?” Travers said defensively.

Granger moved over behind him and began to rub his shoulders, and felt the tension evaporate. “No, I'm simply telling you what I see. You want me to cancel dinner?”

“No, you're right. I guess I should have been a little more attentive to him. I guess it's hard to be around him without wanting to fuck him. He's pretty cute, don't you think?”

“Cuter than me?” Granger asked, coquettishly.

“No one is cuter than you,” Travers said.

“I don't believe you. You have to prove it to me,” Granger said and walked over to the door. He dropped his trousers and bent over so his hands were on the door, blocking it in case someone was to intrude.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Travers smile as he walked up behind Granger, taking out his cock. In a quick movement, he was inside Granger, and they coupled quickly and urgently. For some reason, this urgent, illicit sex stimulated Granger even more than usual, so he was able to wait until Travers started blasting his load up his ass before he took a few token strokes of his cock and joined him. Just as he shot his first blast against the cabin door, they heard a shout from above.

“Sail ho! Sail ho off the starboard bow!”

Granger and Travers actually laughed and giggled as they tried desperately to finish cumming as quickly as possible. “The service doesn't make for the best sex in the world,” Travers observed.

Granger knelt over and wiped his spooge off the door and deck with his handkerchief. “I'm not complaining. Besides, we can have another go at it later.”

They rushed up onto the deck before Chilton could send a messenger to get them. “I was just about to send for you sir,” he said to Travers nervously.

“Not to worry Mr. Chilton. I heard the lookout,” Travers said to him kindly. No wonder this kid was crushing on Travers. “Lookout, what do you make of the sail!”

“Looks like a merchie sir,” the lookout called. “Looks like she's running from something.”

“Mr. Chilton call the watch!” Travers ordered. The bosun's whistles were blowing before he finished turning to address the helmsman. “Put the wheel down Bellows. Lay a course to meet our troubled friend.”

“Aye aye zur,” said the seaman, with an accent that sounded like it came, ironically, from Seven Dials.

“Deck there! American colors!”

Granger looked at Travers. “Not our problem then, eh?”

“Deck there! Permission to come down and report?”

“Come on down!” Travers bellowed, and nodded to Chilton who sent up a replacement.

The seaman swung down on a backstay to land neatly in the middle of the quarterdeck. It was such a sleek maneuver that Granger almost felt he should applaud, as if he were at a circus. “Sorry sir, but I wanted to make a proper report sir,” the seaman stammered.

“Well?” Travers asked.

“It's an American brig sir. She musta seen us cause she hoisted her colors right away. There's a xebec chasing her, probably a mile out. Bloody pirate from the looks of her.”

“Was the xebec showing colors?” Travers asked.

“Aye sir. Some sort of flag what looked like it had tails. It was green and gold.” Travers instinctively looked at Granger.

“Algerian sir,” Granger said, slipping back easily into a stricter naval discipline now that potential action seemed to make it appropriate. “Algiers is at peace with Britain.”

“Sir, there's women and children aboard the brig,” the lookout added.

“Bloody hell!” Travers said. “Mr. Victor, I want the topsails and mains on her!”

Victor had come up, slightly groggy, after hearing the hubbub on deck, so Travers gave him his proper due by delegating to him now.

“What will you do?” Granger asked Travers. “To fire on an Algerian corsair is an act of war.”

“I think, Mr. Granger, that that American brig is carrying contraband and is subject to seizure by His Majesty's government,” Travers drawled. “I'll want you to go over to her, if you will, as soon as we are up to her. Be sure and take a British ensign with you.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. “Mr. Victor, I'll need a boat's crew in the launch, and I'll need it ready to sway out as soon as we're close enough to the brig.”

“Aye aye sir,” Victor said.

“Mr. Chilton,” Granger said. “I'll need a British ensign. Rustle one up for me, will you?”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Travers just stared at Granger smiling.

“What?” Granger asked.

“You are such a leader. I love watching you in action.”

Granger had to stop himself from blushing. “I like feeling you in action,” he said softly into Travers’ ear, and then ran below to put on his full-dress uniform. Had to impress the Americans.

It was good fortune that the wind was at their back, while the xebec had to work upwind to get at the brig. It was also fortunate that the lookout was wrong in his distances, and the xebec was more than a mile away from the American brig. The xebec was a mile off when they actually hove to next to the brig.

Granger hopped into the boat after Chilton, who was joining him, and it sped quickly to the American vessel.

“Boat ahoy!” came the standard cry from the brig.

Granger swallowed, and then yelled back. “Lieutenant George Granger of His Britannic Majesty's ship Vesuvius! Coming aboard!” The last statement was a bit aggressive, but this had to be done right, to look right.

The brig's master met them at the port. “A by your leave might have been nice,” he said rudely.

“If you prefer, Captain, we can leave you to the xebec,” Granger said coolly. “You are suspected of carrying contraband. Your vessel is forfeit to His Britannic Majesty until such time as it is determined that your cargo does not contain prohibited items.”

“You can't just swoop in here and seize control of my vessel!” the Captain cried indignantly, and his crew moved aggressively around them.

“Captain, if your ship is flying this ensign over your colors, the Vesuvius can protect you. If she doesn't, we cannot. After that, we will inspect your cargo, and assuming everything is in order, we will release you, presumably after the xebec is gone.” The Captain grinned and nodded.

“Mr. Chilton, run our colors up over the American ensign, if you will.”

“Aye aye sir,” Chilton said, and headed to the flagstaff, getting glares from the crew members.

“Gentlemen,” Granger said to the deck at large, “I am sensible that this may seem insulting to you, especially since it may evoke memories of a time past when our nations weren't friends. Please understand it is necessary for the niceties of diplomacy.” That got him an odd smile and a nod. “And now Captain, can you show me your manifest? I'll need to make a note of it in my report.”

“Certainly. I'll have a copy drafted for you.” He nodded to a bookish looking chap, who dashed down to handle the paperwork.

Granger looked back to see British colors over American. The xebec was only three cables away now, and a gun belched out from her side, the ball flying across the brig's bow. Granger watched as Vesuvius responded in kind.

“Captain, if you have means to defend yourself, I suggest you make ready,” Granger said. “Just in case.” The Captain nodded as they got their six puny guns ready for action. The xebec was a small craft, but the brig's armament wouldn't stop a determined attack.

Another shot from the xebec, only this time it crashed into the brig forward. Granger heard a scream from below, a woman's voice, and worried that there was an injury, but he was distracted as the Vesuvius fired again. There was no sign of the shot, so Granger assumed it had hit. Still the xebec came on, determined to seize her prey.

Granger smiled as he saw Vesuvius close the range and interpose herself between the Algerian and the brig. The only real chance the xebec had had was to bombard them at long range, where Vesuvius' carronades would be useless. Instead, he'd closed on them, and now he would pay the price. Granger saw flashes along the side of the xebec as she fired into the Vesuvius. Most of the balls seemed to fall in the water. That was bad shooting.

Then they heard the roar of Vesuvius’ broadside as she blasted into the xebec. Then another, then another, until the Algerian was a dismasted wreck. Granger borrowed a glass and studied her. She was low in the water as well. Granger decided there was an even chance she'd stay afloat.

The secretary handed him the manifest and Granger studied it. Wine from Italy. Harmless enough. “Well Captain, it seems that everything is in order. I hope you will accept my apologies for interrupting your journey.”

“That's quite alright Mr. Granger, and I must thank you and your Captain for your timely inspection.” They grinned at each other and bowed, and Granger followed Chilton down into their boat. He was sure there would be a diplomatic firestorm from Algiers, but Granger knew they'd done the right thing, and he felt good about it.