Northern Exposure - 58. Chapter 58

May 22, 1801

HMS St. George

The Baltic Sea

George Granger lay in his cot, and upon hearing Winkler enter his small cabin and begin flitting around, he compelled himself to remain motionless to convince his faithful steward he was asleep. Unfortunately, sleep was something that he’d had very little of the previous evening. Instead, he’d lain there and allowed his mind to torture him, seemingly driven on and on by his aching heart.

Granger had tried to forget about Alexander, but like the determined ruler he was, his memories all but possessed Granger. He had tried to think of things, anything, to distract himself, but it was to no avail. Pondering the relative yield of rents on land in Britain drew him inexorably back to the Russian dilemma with serfdom, and back to the Tsar. Thinking of the St. George inevitably led to comparisons with her dilapidated Russian counterparts, thence to the unique construction strategies the Russian navy used, and then ultimately back to Alexander. Everything was about the Tsar.

The one time he’d managed to escape from that circular hell had only led him to different demons, where he’d contemplated his relationship with Chartley. Chartley had declared that he’d loved Granger and had been a huge strength for Granger when he’d dealt with his difficult homecoming after the Battle of St. Vincent. Yet when he’d heard Granger was going to the Indies, rather than sail with him, he’d deserted Granger to rush ahead to warn Bertie of his mission. When Granger had arrived in Amboyna all but dead from the fever, Chartley had saved his life, yet when it had come time to help him get back to England, Chartley had abandoned him to go to Canton and make yet more money. Chartley had ample opportunities to return to England to rekindle their relationship, but he’d stayed in the Far East until forcibly evicted by the Chinese. And while he’d been unwilling to remain a constant partner for Granger, he’d all but married a Mongolian peasant boy and pledged his undying love and sworn his commitment to their partnership. Granger was truly annoyed at being tossed over for someone so distinctly below him in the social chain, but ultimately eased that rejection by remembering that he’d been the lover of the Tsar of all the Russias. Of course, even his tangential annoyance with Chartley had led him around to thinking of the Tsar again.

“It’s an hour before dawn, my lord,” Winkler said softly as he nudged Granger awake.

“Alright then,” Granger replied, and arose from his cot, pretending that he’d actually been sleeping. His charade didn’t fool Winkler, who tried to hide his worried expression. Granger ignored him and submitted to his ministrations as he went through the ritual of shaving and taking a sponge bath. He had thus far avoided asking Hardy to rig the wash deck pump so he could have a proper shower but became determined to do that as soon as an opportunity permitted. He thought instead of the pleasant banyas in Russia, especially that of the Tsar, and once again he was back to mooning over Alexander.

“The master informed me that we are to have light winds and clear skies today, my lord,” Winkler said. “The temperatures are supposed to be right balmy for these parts.”

“That is good to know,” Granger said flatly, and then ignored Winkler as they focused on getting Granger ready for the day. In a flagship it was important to dress impeccably and to be well turned out, and Granger could certainly accomplish both of those things, they just took extra time. Finally, having made the final adjustments to his uniform, Granger thanked Winkler and exited the cabin, heading directly to Lord Nelson’s sumptuous quarters. He found Nelson already seated at his table, reading some dispatches. The admiral merely motioned toward Granger to take a seat to his right, which Granger did. Granger watched him read and digest what appeared to be a letter, his expressions ranging from smiling happiness to sadness to rage. Granger suddenly felt a little better about his own turmoil, knowing that he’d at least hide his expressions better than Nelson did.

“Good morning, Granger,” Nelson said in a less-than-pleasant tone.

“Good morning, sir,” Granger replied in a cheerful way, but not so cheerful as to bring down the ire of a man who was clearly annoyed.

“I was just re-reading my last letter from Lady Hamilton, so I was distracted,” he said.

“You must convey my warmest regards to her ladyship when next you write, sir,” Granger insisted. He could have written her himself, but her relationship with Nelson had created such a scandal that he’d opted to avoid opening that line of communication.

“Perhaps you should convey those thoughts to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales,” snapped Nelson. “She is no doubt spending all of her time with him.” The jealousy erupting from him was so visceral it was disturbing.

“I doubt, sir, that is the case,” Granger said, then hastily explained before Nelson could direct all his anger at Granger for contradicting him. “I will readily acknowledge that Lady Hamilton is a most beautiful woman, but she is much too nice to successfully face Lady Jersey in a battle for His Royal Highness’s attentions.”

“The Prince of Wales would not let Lady Jersey stop him from pursuing Emma,” Nelson stated firmly.

“I must respectfully disagree, sir,” Granger said. “His Royal Highness is notorious for being ruled by his mistresses, and Lady Jersey is not a woman to be trifled with. He would be allowed a dalliance, perhaps, but never a relationship with someone as notable as your dear lady.”

“Hmph,” Nelson said, slightly mollified. Daventry arrived at that point, as did Hardy and Nelson’s staff. That served to change the subject to affairs of the fleet, and breakfast became a calm but rather tedious meal. Granger found his mind drifting away from the conversation and only with great pains was he able to focus on the business at hand. In the end, the meal was done, and now the rest of the grueling day could unfold.

“I must thank you, sir, for your hospitality,” Granger said, as he finished a wonderful breakfast at Nelson’s table. The past two days had been miserable, and Granger had been hard pressed to keep his happy face pasted on and to say just the right things. Despite his efforts, he wasn’t sure he was doing a very good job of keeping his internal agony hidden, and that made his mood even worse.

“I continuously try to repay you for the wonderful meals aboard your ship, but despite my efforts, I can never quite deliver as well as your chef,” Nelson said graciously.

“I will share that with him when I return to England, sir,” Granger said with a smile, “although it will probably only swell his head and make him more cantankerous and difficult.”

“Such is the way of true artists,” Daventry commented vapidly.

One of St. George’s midshipmen entered the cabin at that point and seemed a bit surprised that everyone focused on him. “My lord, we’ve sighted a ship,” he said to Nelson. “She’s made her number. She’s the Blanche, Captain Graham Hamond.” Granger knew of Hamond, as he’d served in the Mediterranean and was rumored to be a good officer.

“Let us go up and see how well Blanche has repaired her damage from the battle,” Nelson said, leading them out from his cabin and up the ladder to the quarterdeck. Blanche had been part of Nelson’s force that attacked Copenhagen. Granger was very familiar with that ship, as she’d been tasked to sail with him and Nelson to Elba prior to the Battle of St. Vincent.

“My lord,” Hardy said. “Blanche is signaling. Blanche to flag, have dispatches.”

“Signal the fleet to heave to,” Nelson ordered. “Then signal for Hamond to come aboard.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Hardy said crisply, then attended to his ship while Nelson’s staff worked to get the signals hoisted. When the signal to heave to came fluttering down, Hardy maneuvered the St. George neatly into the wind, while the rest of the fleet followed her move at almost exactly the same time. Granger smiled at the crisp way that was done. This was how a fleet was supposed to operate, where experienced captains knew their business and obeyed orders promptly. A frown from Nelson caused Granger to look farther out at the frigates and noted that Calliope was once more exhibiting slackness in following Nelson’s orders.

Rather than issue a biting remark or ordering a signal to further humiliate Calliope, Nelson turned to Daventry. “Walk with me, Daventry.”

“My lordship would be happy to walk with your lordship,” Daventry said with a smile. They began to stroll on the leeward side, while the other officers moved away to give the admiral privacy.

“I know that you and Granger are not only co-conspirators plotting evil against whomever you are tasked to wreak havoc upon, but also good friends,” Nelson said.

Daventry chuckled. “George is much like the brother I never had, so I must agree with your assertions.”

“I do not want to intrude upon the confidences you two share, but I am worried about our fellow peer,” Nelson said. “He is not himself. Much like he was at breakfast, he often seems like he is miles away from us.”

“It is good of you to notice that, considering the myriad of people you must also worry about,” Daventry said, playing for time.

“I consider Granger to be a friend,” Nelson asserted strongly. “I have yet to encounter a man so honest and honorable as him. He has a way of telling you things you don’t want to hear in such a way as to make them palatable.”

Daventry laughed. “That is one of his many talents. I would hope you would share those words with him, as they would undoubtedly cheer him.”

“Yet he seems to have some buried anxiety,” Nelson said, focusing on the issue at hand. “Can you tell me the cause?” Daventry almost became visibly nervous at that request because he was loath to share Granger’s personal life with anyone, even his revered admiral.

“I must first ask your indulgence to keep this conversation confidential, for Granger would lacerate me with his tongue if he found out I had shared information about him, even to you,” Daventry said.

“I pledge that this will stay between the two of us,” Nelson affirmed.

“I think it would be best described by saying that he had developed attachments in Russia that were hard to leave behind,” Daventry said.

They paced the length of the quarterdeck while Nelson pondered that. “It sounds as if you are describing an affair of the heart.”

“Indeed,” Daventry said, hiding his own pain at having been rejected by his Russian countess.

“I have had that experience myself. It is often the plight of the sailor,” Nelson observed sympathetically.

“It is often the plight of many men,” Daventry said a bit too bitterly.

“As much as he has done for me, I wish there was something I could do to help him now,” Nelson said.

“I think there is something you can do for Granger,” Daventry said. While he had not planned to have this conversation with Nelson, he had his own idea of how to pull Granger out of his mental fog. “

“Indeed?” Nelson asked. “And what would that be?”

“Granger needs something to do, something to occupy his mind,” Daventry said.

“You are suggesting that serving aboard my flagship is not a big enough challenge?” Nelson asked playfully.

“I think that he needs a task that will immerse him back into his familiar element, so to the degree that can happen on your flagship, it may work,” Daventry said, but he was skeptical of that.

“You are thinking that if I give Granger an assignment to keep him busy, it will help him get a grip on his feelings before he returns to England.”

“That is what I am thinking,” Daventry confirmed.

“Daventry, I thank you for taking me into your confidence and sharing your thoughts. I am especially fond of Granger, and will do what I can to help him out,” Nelson said.

“I appreciate your lordship’s indulgence,” Daventry said. They used that line as the cue to end their conversation and rejoin the others at the quarterdeck rail.

“Sir, it looks as if Captain Hamond has someone with him,” Granger noted as the pair rejoined the rest of the officers.

Daventry borrowed his glass and focused on the gig that was approaching the St. George. “It appears that the government may have made a smart decision.”

“A statement that improbable requires some clarification,” Granger said, forcing himself to crack a joke at the expense of the ministers at Whitehall.

“That is Lord St. Helens, one of our brighter diplomats, and based on our finding him heading for the Gulf of Finland, I would wager he is being sent to St. Petersburg,” Daventry said. Granger knew St. Helens well, as he was a favorite of the King and was often at Windsor when Granger was in attendance there. He was annoyed with himself for not recognizing the man.

“Could possibly be Stockholm,” Nelson mused.

“Unlikely,” Daventry said, then continued with a hint of scorn. “King Gustaf and the Swedes do not warrant a diplomat of Lord St. Helen’s skill.”

“Hardy, prepare the salute for His Britannic Majesty’s ambassador to the Court of St. Petersburg,” Nelson said. “If that turns out to be wrong, we’ll bill Daventry for the extra powder it costs His Majesty.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said. The signal must have been given for a bosun’s chair, as the device was rigged and lowered over the side. St. Helens was almost fifty, and for a man who was probably not used to climbing aboard towering battleships, this was the safest way of delivering him to the quarterdeck. As soon as the chair lowered enough so his feet could touch the deck, the salute began booming out. St. Helens was of average height and had a handsome face but for a pronounced bulbous nose.

“Daventry!” St. Helens said pleasantly. “I had hoped to run into you either in route to or in Russia!”

“You are ever the lucky man,” Daventry said. “Lord Nelson, please allow me to present Lord St. Helens.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” St. Helens said to Nelson as he took his hand in greeting, “to such a degree that I can only describe this as a singular honor.”

“You are too kind,” Nelson said, feigning modesty when he in fact had none.

St. Helens’ gaze shifted to the other peer on the quarterdeck. St. Helens had known Granger since he was a boy. St. Helens was from Derbyshire, the place where Granger’s family had most of its landholdings, and his father had been an official in the local borough. “It is good to see you as well Granger. I hope you will pardon me for saving my greeting until after I had spoken to these exalted gentlemen.”

“It is good to see you as well,” Granger said, and took his hands warmly. “I happily yield precedence to their lordships.”

“I saw your father before I left. He is in good health. We will talk more when we have finished our present business,” St. Helens said.

St. Helens’ salute ended, then the pipes shrilled as Hamond was piped aboard. He was greeted as well, then they repaired to Nelson’s cabin. “Dispatches for your lordship,” Hamond said, proffering a large sealed canvas envelope to Nelson.

“Thank you, Hamond,” Nelson said, putting that aside for the moment.

“Included in those papers is undoubtedly a notice explaining that I have been appointed ambassador to St. Petersburg,” St. Helens said to Nelson in what was a casual, not pompous statement. “I was told you were in these waters and had hoped to glean some intelligence from you before my arrival.”

“I think that you should look to Granger and Daventry for information, as they spent several months at the Imperial Court, while I merely anchored off Reval for a fortnight.”

St. Helens’ eyes perked up at the possibility of getting meaningful insights. “Then I will need to spend some time with you gentlemen,” he said to Granger and Daventry.

“I must take this fleet back to monitor the Swedes at Karlskrona,” Nelson insisted, to forestall St. Helens from having him lull about here while three men chatted about diplomacy.

“It is of vital importance that I obtain information from these men, have time to digest it, and then have an opportunity to ask them follow-up questions,” St. Helens countered just as emphatically. “Perhaps they could accompany me on my voyage to St. Petersburg.”

The thought of that was so horrifying to Granger that he felt his stomach rise up in defiance and began to plan how to escape to a privy chamber in case he needed to vomit. “I am confident that they will be needed in London far sooner than that diversion will allow,” Nelson said. Before St. Helens could argue any further, Nelson continued. “I have a potential solution to this problem. I am wondering if you gentlemen would leave Granger and me for a moment, then I will join you on the quarterdeck to discuss our plans.”

“Of course,” St. Helens said, yielding to the inevitable. They arose and left the cabin, leaving Granger and Nelson alone in the great cabin.

“I cannot have the fleet hovering about here for days on end while St. Helens quizzes you and Daventry about the drapes in the dowager Empress’s boudoir,” Nelson said, making Granger chuckle.

“Lord Daventry is no doubt intimate with their color and texture, sir,” Granger joked. Nelson, having already been apprised of Daventry’s affair with that lady, laughed in kind.

“I suspect he could,” Nelson said. “I am going to appoint you to the command of Calliope.”

Granger blinked in surprise as he digested that information, and despite his stoic reserve he could not stop the smile that spread across his face. “Thank you, sir. She is a beautiful ship.” His whole psyche attempted to grapple with this change of situation, to pull out of the boggy gloom it had been in and redirect its energy to this new challenge.

“I am hopeful you can help her become more efficient instead of the laughingstock of this fleet,” Nelson growled. “I cannot imagine seeing such a ship handled in a more unimpressive way. Perhaps you can improve her sail drill.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I think it is less about her sail drill than her trim,” Granger said. He had spent a lot of time observing Calliope and felt confident enough to make that assertion.

“Explain that,” Nelson ordered.

“Sir, my experience aboard Belvidera suggests that French frigates designed by Monsieur Forfait and his disciples must be trimmed less in the bow than other frigates,” Granger said. “I am not sure if she was one of their ships, but it is possible.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” Nelson said approvingly. “I am going to make this appointment temporary, not because I do not have confidence in you, but because St. Vincent has made it clear that he will most likely reject promotions and postings made by the various fleets, with the exception of those on distant service.” Nelson’s tone showed how irritated he was to have this power of patronage removed from him, and surely Lord Keith in the Mediterranean would feel the same way. In essence, they were in the same position as the admirals in charge of the Channel Fleet and the Nore, in that they could recommend promotions but not implement them of their own accord. That made the East and West Indies stations a much more attractive command if one was willing to risk death from fever.

“I doubt if His Lordship will confirm that, in any event, sir,” Granger said. “He sent me a scathing letter criticizing me for abandoning Valiant to go gallivanting around Russia.”

“You and Daventry accomplished in Russia what I probably could not have achieved, even with my fleet,” Nelson said in surprise. “I am sorry, Granger. I can only hope that others in the government will prevail upon him to see the error of that judgment.”

“Thank you, sir, although His Lordship is usually most unwilling to acknowledge his own errors,” Granger replied, letting his annoyance propel him into saying more than he should have.

“I am not sure that truer words have ever been spoken,” Nelson said, making both of them chuckle. “In any event, surely you have enough pull with the government to make an impact?”

“I would have thought so, sir, but my understanding is that Lord St. Vincent rules the Admiralty autonomously, with little input or restrictions from the other ministers. It is, in effect, his own little kingdom,” Granger said a bit mopishly.

“Well, if you cannot secure a ship, you are always welcome to join me in an unofficial capacity,” Nelson offered.

“Sir, as you are usually to be found in the heat of the action, that is an incredibly generous offer, one which I will hold you to,” Granger said.

“You may consider it a pledge,” Nelson said, then transitioned to a different topic. “Captain Smythe of the Calliope has been ill for some time, so you can transfer him here and we can see if our doctors can help him recover. I also plan to remove her first lieutenant in order to make things smoother for you.”

“Sir?” Granger asked, wondering who this mysterious lieutenant was.

“Peter Haversham serves in that capacity, and while normally having a family member aboard enhances the efficiency of a ship, I think that in this case it would only impair it,” he said. Granger was instantly relieved that Nelson would take that step. Haversham was Caroline’s cousin, as her father was Haversham’s uncle. Granger’s experiences with the Havershams had left him with the opinion that they were all self-centered, privileged, and argumentative louts. He had only met Peter Haversham twice, and the man had confirmed those traits on both occasions. He was a year older than Granger, but despite that and his connections, he had not received promotion even to the rank of commander.

“I must thank you most sincerely for that, sir,” Granger said with relief.

“I will send an officer to replace him,” Nelson said. “I was of a mind to post Fitzgerald to that position, but I think that in order to assure his posting as lieutenant I will need to personally take him back to England with me.”

“That is unfortunate, sir,” Granger said. “I have been impressed with him. In other circumstances, I would have felt confident enough to have looked out for his interests on my own, but I am not sure enough now to risk his future career.”

“I suspect that you, or at least your wife, will sort that out shortly after you return to London,” Nelson joked.

“One can hope, sir,” Granger replied.

“I will give you orders to stay here with Blanche until St. Helens sees fit to release you, then you will rejoin the fleet and sail thence to England with all dispatch,” Nelson said.

“Aye aye, sir,” Granger said, then mercifully remembered an important caveat. “I would like to beg your indulgence, sir, to allow me to make a brief call at Visby.”

“I have no idea what kind of stores Smythe has, so that may be useful for your own comfort,” Nelson said. “You have my permission, but do not dally.”

“Sir, I learned from the master not to waste an hour,” Granger said. Nelson basked in the praise directed at him.

“A good lesson well learned,” Nelson replied. “If you would be so kind as to ask Fitzgerald to join me, I will write up your orders. In the meantime, I will leave it to you to ensure that Daventry and St. Helens are amenable to the course of action I have chosen.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Granger said. Nelson smiled as he watched the young captain exit his cabin with a distinct bounce to his step. Once outside, Granger paused before going up to the quarterdeck to find Winkler. He was, conveniently enough, in Granger’s small cabin.

“Did you need something, my lord?” Winkler asked, worried that he had been neglectful in some way.

“I do,” Granger said, and could not help smiling, something which both confused and gladdened Winkler. “We will be transferring to Calliope shortly. I am to take command of her, and ultimately pilot her to England.”

“I will be ready to go when you are, my lord,” Winkler said, grinning in return. “It will be nice to have our own ship again.”

“Indeed,” Granger replied. “It has been too long.” He left Winkler in charge of his personal effects and went up to the quarterdeck where he found St. Helens and Daventry on the quarterdeck. They were not pacing in the way of naval officers, but rather strolling up and down the lee side as if they were walking along Rotten Row in Hyde Park. He joined them, walking at their pace, but his arrival prompted them to stop walking and look at him questionably.

“Has his lordship decided our fate?” Daventry asked, then studied Granger more carefully. “Whatever it is, he has certainly improved your mood.”

“You are implying I am moody?” Granger challenged, more to make them wait than to defy their assertion. He knew he’d been completely out of sorts since leaving Russia.

“Perhaps,” Daventry answered calmly, then waited.

“I am to be given command of the Calliope,” Granger said, then led them to the rail and pointed her out. “We will remain here with His Excellency until he has thoroughly picked our brains, then we are to return to England.”

“That may take some time,” St. Helens said, suggesting their brains were worthy of the potential harvest they could yield.

“I would expect that Your Excellency will be most anxious to continue your journey and assume your duties in St. Petersburg, so I am confident our delay will not be that long,” Granger said.

“That is an astute observation on your part, Granger,” St. Helens said.