The Wardroom - 5. Chapter 5

The idyll, the honeymoon was almost over. Granger sat in Travers' cabin, having just finished their goodbye fuck, trying not to cry, and failing miserably.

“We're with the same fleet George. You can come over to the Vesuvius for dinner once in a while can't you?” Travers said. His tone was so pleading, so condescending in his attempt to bring Granger out of his bad cheer, that it reminded Granger that he still had his pride. Crying was not an allowed emotional response.

“You're right,” he said firmly, and as if by magic he was the cheerful and resolute lieutenant that he usually was. Travers was stunned by his ability to transform himself like this.

“I have to go up on deck,” Travers said, and kissed him one more time. “I can't have Victor botching our maneuvers in sight of the flagship.” Granger stayed and supervised Winkler as he packed up his sea chest, then primped himself, making sure he looked just like he walked right out of the tailor.

Granger strode up on deck and was temporarily taken aback by the sight in front of him. Twelve ships of the line were sailing close hauled under topsails, keeping perfect station on each other, forming a solid line that dared anyone to break it. He took a glass and saw Victory in the van.

“Mr. Victor, clear away my gig,” barked Travers. “Mr. Chilton, make Vesuvius to Flag. Have dispatches on board.”

“Aye aye sir,” they chimed, almost in unison, then running to execute their captain’s orders.

“Flag to Vesuvius. Captain to repair on board,” Chilton said as he read the signal flags that flew up Victory's mast.

“Well then we'd best get going. The ship is yours Mr. Victor,” Travers said.

“Aye aye sir,” he said efficiently. Victor was really a good, reliable officer. Someone who deserved the promotion to lieutenant, Granger thought, as he followed Chilton down into the gig. Granger saw his chests sitting in the center of the gig, and his bad mood threatened to overtake him yet again. The boat pushed off and they set the lugsail, propelling her quickly over the seas to the Victory.

They approached the leeward side and latched onto her main chains. Granger had never been aboard a three-decker. Victory was a first rate, the largest class of warship afloat, and her huge bulk towered above him imposingly. Travers adjusted his sword, leaped for the chains and began his climb up.

“It's been a pleasure getting to know you sir,” Chilton said shyly as Granger made to follow Travers aboard.

“It has been a pleasure for me too Mr. Chilton. I hope our paths cross often.” Granger extended his hand to the midshipman, shook it, and then leaped to the chains as Travers' had and scrambled aboard.

He walked through the Victory’s entry port, and the first thing that struck him was the sheer size of the ship. She was massive. Once he'd let that register, he was almost overwhelmed by the number of people. There were people everywhere. He saluted the quarterdeck and approached the Captain purposefully.

“George Granger sir,” he said, introducing himself. “I've been assigned to Lord Hood's staff.”

“Captain John Knight,” the Captain said briskly. “You'll find Lord Hood aft. He's been waiting for you.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said deferentially.

“You're welcome Mr. Granger. I'll have your chests brought aboard and stowed. You'll have to share a cabin, we're a bit crowded.”

“Yes sir. Thank you again sir.” Then he headed to the great stern cabin, following Travers. The marine guard stood rigidly at attention yet still managed to rap on the door.

“Enter!” came a voice.

They entered the Admiral's main cabin, walking from the practical, unadorned upper deck into the luxuriously furnished world of flag officers. Granger noted that there were even fresh flowers on a side table. He recognized Hood right away, having met him at Court before.

“Well Mr. Granger, we had expected you quite a while ago.”

“Yes my lord. I had a bit of difficulty getting to Gibraltar.”

“Indeed?”

“The captain of the Desperate must have had orders that conflicted with mine. He opted to spend a few days cruising in the Bay of Biscay my lord.”

Hood's eyes narrowed. “Did you not explain to him that you were needed here urgently?”

“Yes my lord. I was told I was being impertinent to question his orders. I made my report to Admiral Pring and turned my documentation over to him my lord.”

“Then it should be in the dispatches you are bringing me,” he said, as Granger handed over his leather case stuffed full of last minute instructions from the Admiralty and reports from Admiral Pring as well. “Anything else to report?”

“We engaged an Algerian xebec my lord,” Travers said nervously.

“We are at peace with Algiers Mr. Travers. Why exactly would you wish to antagonize the Sultan?”

“I meant no disrespect my lord. We stopped an American brig to inspect her, and took temporary possession of her. The xebec fired on our flag sir, so I had no choice but to respond my lord.”

“In other words, you saw an American vessel about to be seized by a pirate and you devised a ruse to allow you to intervene and save her,” Hood said with steely eyes.

“It may have appeared that way my lord,” Travers said nervously. “There were women and children aboard the brig my lord.”

Hood looked at him, his eyes twinkling. White slavery was a problem in these waters. “Well Mr. Travers, we'll leave the thing to our diplomatic brethren to see what they come up with.”

“Thank you my lord,” Travers said, relieved.

“You may return to your ship and rejoin the inshore squadron.” He turned to one of his aides. “Give Captain Travers my dispatches for the inshore squadron.”

“Yes my lord,” they both chimed. And then Travers was gone, while Granger could only steal a final sideways look at him.

“Welcome Mr. Granger. Captain Curtis will assign you your duties. I will see you at dinner this afternoon.”

“Yes my lord,” Granger said, and withdrew with Captain Curtis.

“You'll be bunking up with Lieutenant Charles Devlin. You know him?”

“No sir,” Granger said honestly. “I've heard of him at court though.” Devlin had the reputation of a rake. Granger thought he'd run with Bertie and that crowd, but he wasn't sure.

“No doubt. He's on his best behavior here though. You can get settled in and then we'll assign you your duties after dinner.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” Granger hesitated. “Can you point me in the right direction sir?”

Curtis laughed. “First time on a three decker?” Granger nodded. “This is Mr. Midshipman Shafte, also on the staff,” Curtis said, introducing him to a young man who appeared to want nothing more than to be ignored. Granger nodded to him briefly. “Mr. Shafte, take Mr. Granger to his cabin and show him around the ship as he desires.”

“Aye aye sir,” Shafte said. “If you will follow me sir,” Shafte said as he guided Granger below.

Granger followed the thin midshipman who stopped nervously in front of a wardroom cabin. “Your quarters sir,” he said. Granger nodded and opened the cabin door. There, lying on his cot was Charles Devlin. Granger stared at him, taking in his appearance. He had blond hair, maybe a little lighter than Granger, and blue eyes, although it was difficult to see them in the dim lighting. Granger pegged him to be in his early 20s. He was lying on his bunk wearing only trousers, with his chest exposed. He wasn't muscular, he wasn't bulky, rather he was ordinary, but the combined effect of his attractive face with dimpled chin, and his huge grin, made him devastatingly handsome.

“Speak, oh apparition,” he said, bringing Granger out of his daze.

“I'm George Granger sir. I'm to be your cabin mate,” Granger said nervously.

Devlin got up, and Granger found himself surprised at how short he was. He was probably all of 5'4". “Oh you are, are you? And what if I don't want a cabin mate?” he said.

“Then we'll have to take that up with Captain Curtis I suppose sir,” Granger said nervously.

“Well that would be an enormous lot of trouble, now wouldn't it? Probably more trouble than just having you stay with me,” he said grinning. He was teasing, Granger realized.

“I would suspect that's true sir. And, begging your pardon sir, there's always a chance you'd end up with someone much worse than me.” Granger smiled at him.

“I'm not sure if there's anyone aboard worse than you Mr. Granger, but we can only hope for the best.” He stuck his hand out. “Charlie Devlin. You call me Charlie when we're in here, got it?”

Granger almost said “yes sir” but stopped himself. “I'm George, Charlie.”

“You look more handsome than your brother,” Charlie said.

“Which one? I've got two of them.”

“Well, you're more handsome than either of them, but I wasn't talking about Freddie. What did they do to him; insert a stick in his ass at birth?” Granger had to laugh at that. “No, I was thinking of Bertie. How is he, by the way?”

“He headed off to India to make his fortune,” Granger said.

“He already had a fortune, unless the Bridgemont money has been lost?”

“Rather he was cut off from it,” Granger said. “I got a letter from him not too long ago and he was doing really well. He's trying to be the next Moghul, I believe.” Granger began to unpack and organize his chests, a wasted effort since Winkler would do that for him, but it gave him something to do.

“That makes sense. He was quite a rake.”

“I've heard the same rumors about you,” Granger said, smiling at him and turning on the charm.

“Well, they're probably true. Only I was more into drinking and gambling, while Bertie had a thing for the whores.” Devlin had a way of speaking in a matter of fact way that was humorous and charming at the same time.

“You don't like women?” Granger asked, teasing him.

“No, I like young, junior flag lieutenants. I wait until they're sound asleep, then I sneak up and bugger them.”

“Then I'm in the wrong cabin. I requested one with someone who'd fuck me when I'm awake,” Granger said, and Devlin cracked up. He put his arm around Granger's shoulder affectionately.

“You'll do just fine here. His lordship is a might stiff, but he loosens up a bit at dinner. Who did you know to get here?” he asked.

“I really don't know,” Granger said honestly. “Lord Chatham gave me the assignment, which surprised me. I figured Lord Hood would have his own candidate in mind.”

“Well he did, and you were it, so let's figure out who you know,” Devlin said, making it a game. “Hood's good friends with Lord Heathford. You know him?”

Granger smiled. “I just married his daughter.”

Devlin laughed uproariously. “That might do it.”

“Keep it down in there. Some of us are actually naval officers and have to keep a watch,” came a growl from another cabin. They brought their laughter down to a quiet giggle.

“So why is Shafte afraid of you?” Granger asked.

Devlin smiled. “He came to get me one day and I was having a wank. I think I scared the poor lad.” Granger laughed, wondering whether Shafte was surprised because of his size, or the activity. “I think his father is a minister of some sort.”

“Well that might do it,” Granger smiled.

“You'll find all the blokes on the staff are good to work with. Even Curtis. Just do what he says,” Devlin revealed.

“What about the other officers?” Granger asked.

“We do our own thing; live in our own little world unless we have dinner in the wardroom. Usually, we dine with his lordship. He likes charming company.”

“Well that would explain why you're here,” Granger said.

“Why thank you Mr. Granger,” Devlin said playfully. “But to answer your question, they're a good lot, all of them.”

“I was pretty nervous, coming aboard this massive ship and knowing no one. Thanks for making me feel at home Charlie.”

“You are home George. This is our abode, such as it is. We're like turtles. We carry our lodgings with us to sea.” Granger shook his head at his new cabin mate. “Now we must make ourselves presentable for our lord and master.”

Granger changed shirts and put on some scented oil to help disguise his body odor. He looked in the mirror and saw Charlie looking at him, staring at his ass, and smiled. He was cute. He might be fun. They headed up to the Admiral's cabin, arriving punctually.

Granger remembered how Sir Evelyn had arranged the place cards so people sat next to those they normally didn't. Apparently Lord Hood didn't believe in such radical change. They were seated in order of seniority, which put Granger across from Devlin and next to Curtis on one side and Shafte on the other. There were a few clerks at the end, pretending to be insignificant.

“Let's all welcome Mr. Granger to our midst,” the Admiral said, raising his glass in a toast. “He comes bringing orders, intelligence reports, and court gossip.”

They all stared at him. He swallowed hard. “I'm not sure what to say on that score my lord.”

“Indeed Mr. Granger? That's ironic, since you are the subject of the most interesting news of all,” the Admiral said with a smile.

“You must be referring to my marriage to Caroline Haversham, my lord,” Granger said, blushing.

“To the happy couple,” Captain Knight said, proposing a toast.

“There's more to it than just that,” the Admiral said. “It seems you must have snagged a large dowry. Heathford gave you his estate in Brentwood.”

“Yes my lord,” Granger said uncomfortably. “I was most fortunate.”

“Alright Granger, tell us your secret,” Curtis said. “How did you weasel a huge dowry out of a skinflint like Heathford?” Everyone at the table laughed.

“I had sex with his daughter. Or it would probably be more accurate to say she had sex with me,” Granger said, blushing.

Hood laughed loudly, and so did everyone else. “Caroline seduced you. That makes sense. Girl's a spitfire.” Then he laughed some more. “Well Granger, you've got yourself quite a bride.”

“Yes my lord,” Granger said, wishing that the conversation would shift to someone else. In the end, dinner turned out to be a fun affair, and Granger began to get to know these men he'd be working with.

After dinner Granger went up on deck, taking in Victory’s massive bulk as she rolled gently in the summer breeze. It was a beautiful evening, with the sun just starting to set off the starboard quarter.

“Beautiful isn't it?” he heard a voice say next to him. He turned to see another lieutenant, one he hadn't met yet. “I'm Cavendish, fifth lieutenant.”

“George Granger,” he said, extending his hand. “It's nice to meet you sir.”

“Care to walk? It helps to pass the time when I'm on watch.” Granger smiled and nodded, and began to walk with Cavendish. The Victory’s massive quarterdeck made the ideal pacing ground.

“How long have you been aboard Victory sir?” Granger asked.

“Since we commissioned in March. She's a great ship. Old but sound, with a good crew. Cream of the press.” Granger nodded. “I heard you caught passage to Gibraltar on Desperate.”

“I did sir,” Granger said cautiously. He knew the Wilcox family had long tentacles in the navy, and he didn't know who their friends were. “It was not a happy ship.”

“You mean with Maynard Wilcox in command, and his equally cruel first lieutenant?” Cavendish asked rhetorically.

“It's not my place to judge them, sir” Granger said.

“Well Mr. Granger, you've no need to hedge yourself around me. I've no love for either of them. My cousin, Rodney Roberts, has been stuck on that ship since the war started.”

“Mr. Roberts is your cousin sir?” Granger asked. “He's a good chap, when they let him.”

“So you met him? How is he?”

“He asked me to help him get off the Desperate, sir,” Granger said.

“And did you?” Cavendish asked.

“In a sense. He commanded the ship's boat that took me ashore. He seemed to get ill, the strangest thing, as soon as we landed. They wanted to take him back to the sloop sir, but I made sure he got sent to the hospital in Gibraltar instead. So last I saw him, he was in the hospital on the Rock.” Cavendish stopped mid-walk and looked at him, smiling.

“Well Mr. Granger, I must thank you for helping him get better. If there's anything you need, let me know,” Cavendish said in a friendly manner.

“Thank you sir. It's funny; I didn't get to talk to him at all on the trip to Gibraltar. The officers on board were too afraid to open up to each other. It wasn't until that last day, when I saw him in the hospital, that we actually had a conversation.” Granger remembered their encounter, and how Roberts had tasted.

They continued their walk, with Cavendish chatting about who all the officers were, their idiosyncrasies, and the like. Then he broke off from their walk to trim the braces, and Granger took that opportunity to head down to bed. He found that he was exhausted.

He worked his way down to the wardroom, and to his cabin which was dark. He opened the door and eased in, trying to find his way in the blackness. He didn't know where Devlin was, exactly, but he could feel his presence. He moved toward the bulk head and began undressing, hanging his clothes up as best he could considering he couldn't see. He thought about wearing a nightshirt but changed his mind. Just as well, he'd never find it anyway.

He felt his way over to his cot and started to climb in, his eyes trying to make sense of things in the dark. He couldn't see Devlin's cot, much less see what he was doing in it. He lowered himself down onto the cot and found himself sitting on something hard, something poking up into his crack. He reached around and found Devlin's dick. It was long, longer than his, but not too thick. He stroked it a few times and heard Devlin moan.

There was something slippery on his hand; Devlin had lubed himself up to masturbate. “Sorry, George, must have got the wrong bed.” Granger smiled to himself and lowered himself down until Devlin's dick was at his hole, then he sat down on him slowly.

“I'm sorry too, Charlie. I didn't realize there was someone in my bed,” Granger said as he lowered his ass down onto his dick, then up, then down again. “Here, let me move.”

“Please don't,” Devlin said, the first words he'd spoken that weren't said with his smarmy attitude. “This feels so nice.” Granger pivoted around, accidentally kicking Devlin in the face, but he didn't complain.

Now straddling Devlin, with Devlin's cock buried in his ass, Granger began to move up and down gently. He lowered his face down until his lips met Devlin's. At first, Devlin moved his mouth away, but Granger wasn't having it. If Devlin was going to fuck him, he was going to have to kiss him too. Devlin gave in and let Granger lock their lips together, responding slowly, then urgently, until it was Devlin who drove his tongue into Granger's mouth, and Devlin who took over thrusting into Granger's ass, his hands holding Granger steady while he moved in and out.

“I'm gonna blow,” he said urgently. Granger reached down and stroked his own cock a few times, bringing forth the massive orgasm that had been building up all day. He blew all over Devlin's chest, soaking him with his cum, while Devlin filled up his ass. As soon as they were done, Devlin pushed Granger off and went back to his own bed, taking a second to wipe Granger's spooge off his chest.

“Thanks George. That was nice. I took a chance and got lucky.”

“I rather think I'm the one who got lucky,” Granger said. Still, he missed the intimacy afterward, the human contact. That wasn't something Devlin was into, apparently.

Winkler woke him up the next morning giving Granger ample time to get ready. Granger looked over at Devlin, who was putting off waking up until the last possible moment. Granger was almost completely dressed and ready when Devlin got out of bed.

“Bloody hell,” Devlin said, grabbing his temples. “I got obliterated last night. I don't remember a thing.”

Granger just looked at him and rolled his eyes. “I remember everything. Couch it however you want Charlie, you fucked me and you liked it.”

Devlin stared at him, shocked, then perturbed, then he smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

Granger grinned back. “Well, I've got to eat something before the day starts.” Granger headed out into the wardroom and found the food to be quite good. The purser was there, staring at him.

“You'll need to pitch in when we re-victual,” he said rudely.

“I'll be happy to pay my share,” Granger said, as if it was no problem at all. And it wasn't.

“Humph,” said the purser. No one else bothered him, so Granger was able to finish up and head up to the Admiral's cabin on time, with a full stomach. Devlin got there a few minutes after him, and got a scowl from the Admiral for it. And then the work began.

Granger discovered that first day what it was to be a flag lieutenant, and he wasn't convinced that it was his cup of tea. There was endless paperwork, which was made only slightly easier by the clerks who seemed to misspell or convolute sentences on purpose. The only real excitement was the interviews, when Lord Hood met with various subordinates, and he or Devlin were required to make notes of the conversation. Granger was having a hard time trying not to make Devlin look bad, but this kind of work was definitely not Devlin's thing.

And at night, every other day or so, he'd feel Devlin slide in behind him and fuck him with a passion and enthusiasm that was erotic as hell, only to pretend nothing had happened the next day. Granger found it amusing rather than frustrating, and just relaxed in the knowledge that he was having some great sex.

Winkler was pulling at his shoulder, trying to wake him. “Is it morning already?” Granger groused.

“No sir. It's three bells in the middle watch. The Admiral wants to see you now sir.” 1:30am? It must be urgent. Granger got up hurriedly and saw Winkler smile at his erection. Granger ignored him and threw on his clothes as fast as he could.

“Did he ask for Mr. Devlin?” Granger asked.

“No sir, only you sir.” It was just as well that Devlin was a sound sleeper; they were making a good amount of noise. He hurried up to the Admiral's cabin to find his lordship and Captain Curtis awake and dressed as if it were afternoon.

“I'm sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep Mr. Granger,” the Admiral said.

“That's quite alright my lord. I've got extra stored up,” Granger teased, getting a slight grin. The Admiral liked a bit of cheer in his life.

“We've got a problem. Your former ship has been taken over by her crew,” he said.

“The Barracuda?” Granger asked, incredulous.

Curtis chuckled. “No, the Desperate. The Captain's coxswain was picked up by the Romulus this afternoon. He carried with him this note.” Curtis handed him a note. Actually it was more like a letter, with the crew outlining all of the wrongs against them and asking for a new captain, and a pardon for seizing the ship.

“Mutiny must be stamped out whenever it rears its ugly head,” cried the Admiral, clearly irritated.

“Yes my lord,” Granger said respectfully. He let the Admiral rant and rave, along with Curtis, for a good period of time, knowing that Curtis would eventually get him to calm down and make good, rational decisions.

“So this letter they sent, those accusations, I suppose it's about half true,” the Admiral said. “Usually have to take these things with a grain of salt.”

“Begging your pardon my lord,” Granger said, inviting his fury, “but in this case, from what I saw, it's an accurate representation.”

“You mean it's all true?” he yelled.

“I would say so my lord,” Granger confirmed.

“And this was going on and you felt in unnecessary to inform me of it, of a madman in command of a ship attached to my squadron?” Hood asked him.

“Yes my lord,” Granger said, knowing that he'd given Hood plenty of indications of what Wilcox was like and that he'd ignored him. But someone had to take the fall, and since he was the junior officer in the cabin, it might as well be him.

“Please be more assertive in your reports in the future Mr. Granger,” the Admiral said simply.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Granger said.

“She's anchored off the Corsican coast, where she can run in and surrender to the Frogs. We need to recapture her, and quickly, before this spreads,” Hood said.

“Will you grant their demands my lord?” Curtis asked. Granger saw Hood almost fly off the handle, then regain his composure.

“Almost. There will have to be an example, a few ringleaders picked out to pay the price for this heinous act,” he said. Granger looked at Curtis and could tell that neither of them thought it was heinous. Granger had been close to mutiny himself. “Mr. Granger, I want you to go on board Romulus and have Captain Johnstone take you to this renegade vessel. Bring her back with one or two heads as sacrifices.”

“And I am to assume command of her once I get her back,” Granger asked. “What of Captain Wilcox and his other officers?”

“You will assume command. If they were worth anything, this never would have happened. Bring her back here and I'll provide a new staff for the ship. That is all Mr. Granger. Good luck. Curtis will have your written orders by the time you have packed a small chest.”

“Yes my lord,” Granger said as he rushed below to throw some clean uniforms and supplies into his sea chest, the one in his cabin. The other chests, with their spare uniforms, shoes, shirts, etc., would have to wait here for him.

“We leaving again sir?” Winkler asked as he helped Granger pack.

“Off to a frigate,” Granger said.

“Then back to Desperate. An unhappy ship that,” Winkler observed. So word of the mutiny was already out. He'd have to act fast. Mutiny was like a disease, like smallpox or the plague, it had to be isolated and killed as soon as it was discovered.

Captain Johnstone received him anxiously, already anticipating what his orders would be. “I assume you'd like to see the coxswain Mr. Granger?”

“Yes sir,” Granger said, and followed him down to his cabin. Granger never really bothered to learn his name, but had picked it up in the report. Cheadle.

“Well well well, lookee who came to see me. Mr. High and Mighty Granger,” Cheadle said. He'd evidently forgotten that Johnstone was in the room.

“You'll keep a civil tongue in your head when addressing a King's officer,” Johnstone said.

Cheadle seemed little daunted. “So you say, Captain. So you say.”

“Who set this up? Who are the ringleaders?” Granger asked.

“The officers are the ones who done it. They poisoned poor Captain Wilcox, leaving him sick in his cabin. Then they had the crew mutiny instead of taking over themselves, just so they didn't get blamed.”

“Lieutenant Graves?” Granger asked.

“Yep. And Lieutenant Roberts too,” he said with a sneer. “You're little plan to help him out didn't work out too well. Captain just waited until he was well, then left.”

“Captain,” Granger said to Johnstone, “I am convinced this man is lying. I believe that we may in fact be holding the mastermind of this whole mutiny, sir. You should also be aware that his insubordination is nothing new. I had to charge him with a similar offense when we landed at Gibraltar. It is my recommendation that he be locked up until this matter is resolved.”

Johnstone eyed him carefully. “You think he is a danger to my ship?”

“I do sir,” Granger said. Cheadle just cackled at them. The man was clearly unhinged. Or pretending to be.

“Very well. Guard!” he called. The marines entered promptly. “Take this man below and lock him up. He's to be kept in a cell, under guard, at all times.”

“Aye aye sir,” the corporal said. “Come along you.”

“Bloody lobsters,” Cheadle said, taunting the marines, as he left.

“That man is clearly deranged Mr. Granger,” the Captain said.

“Begging your pardon sir, but I've seen Cheadle in action. He's a schemer. I believe this is an act sir.”

“You don't think the officers did this?”

Granger shook his head. “They were unhappy, to be sure, and they may have been capable, but the method does not sound like them.”

“Well, my job is to get you there and to support you. You get to unravel this mess.”

“Yes sir,” Granger said, and then went below to get some sleep. He knew he'd need it.