Northern Exposure - 63. Chapter 63

May 25, 1801

Visby, Sweden

Granger sat at his table with his letters arranged in neat piles, but he did not read any further because he was still thinking of Caroline’s letter, and of his dead aunt. His impressions of her before Edgar died were of an imperious, cold woman. He didn’t ever remember seeing her smile, much less laugh, and she seemed quite content when the children, including Edgar, were shuffled off to their governesses. Her stoicism was remarkable, but she seemed very brittle underneath that façade. Granger remembered Edgar’s funeral, where she shed small tears, and tried hard to hide them. In the end, he felt sad for her, for such a repressed person, who had endless material comforts at her fingertips yet still seemed to be miserable.

“My lord,” Winkler said, pulling Granger out of his thoughts. The scowl he aimed at Winkler must have been quite fierce, since it was rare for Winkler to balk at his expressions, but he did so now. Granger forced himself to relax his visage.

“What is it, Winkler?” Granger asked politely.

“I was wondering if you wanted supper, my lord,” he said, and seemed a bit apprehensive.

“And?” Granger prompted.

“If it’s consistent with your reading, you may want to come out on the deck and see Matheus, my lord,” Winkler said.

Granger’s curiosity was aroused enough that he rose up and followed Winkler onto the quarterdeck. Granger scanned the deck, but Winkler’s eyes were aloft, so that’s where Granger focused his attention. Matheus was playing a game of ‘follow the leader’ with the other ship’s boys, only he was the leader. Granger watched him stroll confidently out along the main topsail yard, grab a backstay, and swing from that yard to the fore mainsail yard. It was quite a feat of acrobatics. “He appears to be quite agile,” Granger observed.

“I rather thought he could be a circus performer, my lord,” Eaton replied. Granger was about to call him down, more to save the other boys who would try to follow him, when he saw him stop to talk to one of the topmen, a young seaman named O’Shea, who was splicing some rigging. Granger gazed at them, watching as O’Shea explained what he was doing, and then smiling as Matheus attempted to mimic his moves.

“He certainly has no fear when aloft,” Granger noted. The ships bell rang, telling Granger that it was eight o’clock at night. “Mr. Eaton, please summon the ship’s boys and have them bathe.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Eaton said. “Shall I include Matheus?”

“Yes,” Granger said, then turned to Winkler. “When Matheus is cleaned up, ask him to join me for supper.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Winkler said.

“I have arranged for him to join the ship, and have taken him on as my charge,” Granger told him. “He can be signed on as one of my servants.” Signing him on as a Captain’s servant was a steppingstone for becoming a midshipman.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Winkler said with a smile. Clearly Matheus had already charmed him.

“I’ll put him under your care to see that he fits in, and he’ll need to be outfitted. You can do that at my expense,” Granger added.

“Aye aye, my lord, but he’s already fitting in right well,” Winkler said.

“That is good news,” Granger said, then went back into his cabin and resumed reading his correspondence. He picked up Cavendish’s latest letter, having found him to be one of his more forthcoming correspondents.

May 1801

Dear George,

I received letters from you, at last, and am impressed that you survived your trek to St. Petersburg, your veritable imprisonment in an Imperial Palace, and a regime change. When I last was at Brooks, I entertained the members with tales of Daventry’s trip through the frigid winter in a mere sled, as compared to yours in your plush vozok! For some reason, the government credits you and Daventry with Russia’s new attitude toward us. Whether you had anything to do with that or not, hopefully they will be generous in their rewards. I long for the day you return so I can hear your account of what truly happened.

I have been somewhat at a loss now that Spencer is gone from the Admiralty, and Lord St. Vincent has no use for my assistance. My link to you has not helped, as St. Vincent had been furious with you for leaving Valiant to go to Russia. He had expressed his annoyance by not re-employing your lieutenants or Major Treadway. I made Lord Spencer aware of his actions, and his lordship called upon St. Vincent to familiarize the new First Lord with Spencer’s prior orders to you. St. Vincent is not one to admit an error, but he has since posted Kingsdale (as well as Prince Genarro and Travers) to the Endymion and has attached Mr. Grenfell to the Admiralty and tasked him with publishing a full report on his aiming devices for carronades. In even better news, he has promoted Weston to command the brig Cobra. My understanding is that Cobra is to be sent to the West Indies. I am hoping that this reflects his changed attitude, and that he will be a bit friendlier when you next see him. In the meantime, I have recently spent time with Lord Hawkesbury and am hopeful that he may find some use for my talents in Foreign Affairs.

Despite my virtual banishment from the Admiralty, I am still connected to the government, and have picked up an interesting piece of gossip. The government plans to lay the credit for the mission to Russia on Daventry’s shoulders, as they evidently do not want the public to think that one of their most talented and able captains was sent on some vague diplomatic mission. I hasten to tell you that this may not matter, as your exploits in Russia will probably be squelched in fear that Britain would be accused of meddling in the change of regimes. In any event, knowing how much you enjoy public fame, this will probably come as good news to you.

The food riots seem to have abated, although there has been trouble in the West Counties, but there is still much consternation in the country. Things have become much more expensive, with bread at 1s. 9d, causing the Earl of Warwick to make a scathing attack on the farmers, who are making unreasonable profits based on the confusion and upheaval. The lack of confidence in the government is shown by the 3% consols, which are down to 54. It was not too long ago when they were trading at 80. Caroline and I have decided it’s a good buying opportunity, so wish us all luck.

I cannot wait for you to return, and truth be told, while I am comfortable here with your family in London, it won’t really feel like home until you get back.

Cavendish

As Cavendish noted, Granger was not upset in the least if all the credit, such that there was, was dumped on Daventry. In his mind, he already had too much fame. Granger hoped that trade with the Baltic would resume soon, and that would help lower prices for basic commodities, but at the same time he cringed at the rioting mobs, especially in London. He could easily see angry people marauding Mayfair and breaking windows, at the minimum. That was incentive enough to spend time in the country. He also could understand Cavendish’s point about not feeling at home until he was there. Granger had invited him to be a part of his family, but he had not been there since Cavendish moved in. It would be important that the dynamic remain positive, so as not to make him feel as if he was unwelcome.

He rolled his eyes at St. Vincent and his vengeful temper. Granger was intensely irritated that despite their service together, St. Vincent would be so quick to condemn him. Granger had garnered some of his most impressive achievements while operating under St. Vincent’s command, but evidently that counted for little in the old admiral’s eyes.

In the end, at least his officers had not suffered. Kingsdale, Travers, and Genarro were aboard Endymion, which was almost universally acknowledged as the best frigate in the navy. Her lines were copied from the captured French Pomone, and she was designed to carry 24 pounders on her main deck. She had set and continued to hold the record for the fastest ship in the fleet. He was also glad that the Admiralty was taking Grenfell’s artillery experiments seriously. And finally, he was thrilled that Weston was finally given his own command. He recalled that Cobra was one of the Cruizier class brigs, and smiled, thinking about how much he had loved Intrepid, his first command, which was almost identical to Cobra but with three masts instead of two.

Granger put that letter aside and picked up the one from Spencer.

May 1801

My Dear Granger,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and health. With the change in government, I find myself in opposition for the first time in quite a while. It is a strange and foreign feeling that is largely offset by relief. I did not realize the incredible pressure I’d been under for years at the Admiralty, so it has been good to rest my body and soul. For the first time in a long time, I have ample time to read, and that has allowed me time to enjoy the books you sent me. Of course, just as I resolve to enjoy some peace in my life, my sisters opt to create endless controversies and dilemmas, frustrating me and vexing Lavinia. They are both high spirited and intelligent women but seem to be lacking in basic common sense.

Cavendish approached me with a concern that Lord St. Vincent was not fully informed about your mission, and I felt obligated to meet with him and clarify the situation. I promised to see you through any political difficulties, and even though I am not part of this government, I am trying to fulfill my obligations. I showed St. Vincent copies of the orders and letters I’d sent you, along with instructions from the Cabinet, and that seemed to give him clarity. He seemed to go from furious to thoughtful during our meeting, which is how things stand.

Valiant was sent to Portsmouth for a small repair and a thorough cleaning, so when you return, you will find your former command unavailable. It seems that her captain opted to tangle with a few frigates and battleships, and that has scarred her fabric a bit.

The thing that I will no doubt miss the most now that I have left the Admiralty are your wonderful reports. They never ceased to make me smile, and to make me proud of you. I hope you will continue to apprise me of your adventures. Lavinia and I are most anxious to host you to dinner when you return, so please save an evening for your former First Lord.

I wish you good luck and God speed home,

Spencer

Granger smiled at that letter, and if Spencer were here, he would remind him of some of the more unpleasant reports Granger had sent him. He thought of Valiant and felt bad, as if he had somehow wounded her, remembering the devastation that he’d gone through when he’d brought Belvidera back and she’d needed a major repair. In this case, Valiant’s wounds weren’t as bad, so he wasn’t as upset. He began to wonder what that would mean for him personally. Would the Admiralty task him to oversee Valiant’s repair? Granger thought of that with both relish and dread. It would be a wonderful opportunity to make sure her repairs were completed without the skimping and shortcuts the dockyard might employ, and it would also be a good opportunity to correct some defects that had become obvious after commanding her for some time. On the other hand, he would have to deal with the dockyard staff, and while he did not have St. Vincent’s antipathy to them, working with them would still be unpleasant.

He pondered that maybe they’d let him remain in command of Calliope. She was a fast and agile ship, and he was just beginning to get to know her. She lacked Valiant’s scantlings, so he would not be able to be as bold in dealing with large frigates or ships-of-the-line, but she was much faster and handier. He stopped his ruminations and cursed himself for his optimism, remembering that St. Vincent could very likely still be carrying a grudge against him, and he would probably be lucky to have any command at all.

“Supper is almost ready, my lord,” Winkler said, interrupting him again. Granger pulled his correspondence together and took it into his office. He then tracked down Boles and gave the packet with Daventry’s letters to him. By the time he returned to his main cabin, the table had been set and Matheus was waiting for him. The boy stood respectfully when Granger arrived.

“Thank you for joining me,” Granger said affably, and gestured for him to be seated again.

“Thank you for the invitation, my lord, and for allowing me to experience being on such a lovely ship,” he said stiffly. Granger smiled at him, since he was trying his best to be the model of propriety. His servants brought food out, and Granger noted that for a boy, Matheus had surprisingly good table manners.

“What do you know of your father?” Granger asked him gently.

“He was an officer in the navy, my lord, and was killed during the last war with the Russians,” Matheus said automatically.

“He was not,” Granger replied.

Matheus stared at him in shock. “He was not?”

Granger shook his head. “Your real father is Count Axel von Fersen, one of the most distinguished diplomats in Sweden, and a key member of the royal court.”

“This cannot be,” Matheus insisted, since Granger had completely upset his world. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” he said, realizing he’d omitted to add ‘my lord’ to his sentence.

“You may relax when it is just the two of us, Matheus,” Granger said warmly, and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring way.

“That would not be proper, my lord,” he objected.

“It is proper if I say it is,” Granger said, smiling at him, and getting a similar gesture in return.

“I met this man once,” Matheus said, referring to von Fersen. “He came to see me and my mother.”

“Since he was not married to your mother, your father was created to explain her presence in Visby with no spouse,” Granger explained.

“Then I am a bastard,” he said sadly, and looked down in shame. “No wonder the townspeople are not nice to me.”

“It is a shame that they would visit the sins of your parents on you,” Granger said. “Sadly, that is often the way of society.”

“It’s very unfair,” he said bitterly.

“It is,” Granger agreed.

“I am now merely an orphaned bastard,” he said, and started crying. There were no sobs, only a steady stream of tears.

“I am sorry,” Granger said. “Let us talk of more pleasant things.”

“My lord?” he asked, as if there was any possible silver lining to this nightmare.

“I have asked, and received, Mayor Backstromm’s approval to take you with me on Calliope, if that meets with your approval,” Granger said.

And with that, Matheus’s tears vanished and a big smile broke across his face. “My lord, that is my dream.”

Granger smiled. “You will be my charge, and must do as I direct,” he said in a stern way that was mostly faked.

“I will gladly do your bidding, my lord,” Matheus said.

“I know your father, having conveyed him to Stockholm last year. I will write to him and tell him I have taken you on as my charge.” Matheus’s eyes opened wide at that. It was one thing to be taken aboard as a member of the crew, it was entirely different to be all but adopted by Granger. “It is important that he approve of our arrangement.”

“My lord, I do not know what to say, I have no words to express my gratitude,” Matheus said, completely flummoxed.

“Then say naught,” Granger said.

“My lord, what if my father does not approve?” he asked nervously.

“I suspect that he will, but if he does not, and wants you to return to Sweden, we will have to cross that bridge,” Granger said. “I think that even if he does, he will be able to advance your career in the Swedish navy, probably even more than I can in His Britannic Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

“I do not want to join the Swedish navy,” he said stubbornly. “I want to stay here.”

“Well then, we must hope that Count von Fersen agrees with both of us,” Granger said with a smile. He could see that the boy was very worried about it. “By the time he receives my letter and replies, much can happen. I would not worry about it too much.”

“Thank you for explaining things to me, my lord,” he said.

“What is your full name?” Granger asked.

“Matheus Fersen Soderburg,” he replied, and seemed to suddenly understand the significance of his middle name.

“You must think about how you wish to be styled in Britain,” Granger said.

“My lord?”

“Will you want to carry the same name, or make it more English? I believe the equivalent to Matheus in England is Matthew,” Granger said. “And you must decide if you wish to retain your mother’s surname, or adopt your father’s.”

“I don’t know,” he said, completely confused.

“You have time to make your decision,” Granger said gently. “We will talk of it later.” He nodded, and they focused on eating. When they finished, Matheus gave him a long hug, then Granger left him in Winkler’s care to help him settle in.

Granger remembered how much he had enjoyed strolling through this town last time he’d been here, and now that the weather was pleasant, it was much more alluring. He strode out onto the quarterdeck to find Eaton on deck. “Good evening, my lord,” he said pleasantly.

“Good evening, Mr. Eaton,” Granger replied in a similar way. “I am going to town. Please call my gig, and detail two marines to accompany me.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Eaton said.

Granger went back to his cabin to alert Winkler to his plans, then went back on deck to find two large marines waiting for him. “I hope I am not interfering with your leave,” Granger said to them pleasantly.

They both looked nervous at that, although Granger wasn’t sure if it was what he said or the simple fact that it was he, their captain, that said it. “The marines are not included in the shore leave, my lord,” Eaton said delicately.

Granger stared at him, amazed. “I thought my orders were quite clear.”

“Captain Pitcairn explained that they were his marines, my lord, and it was important for them to remain on board to maintain order,” Eaton said.

“Pass the word for Captain Pitcairn and Mr. Douglas,” Granger ordered, his fury growing with every second.

“Begging your pardon, my lord, but Captain Pitcairn is ashore,” Eaton said.

“Then pass the word for Mr. Douglas and Lieutenant Callahan,” Granger ordered. Callahan was the second in command of the marines. It took five minutes for those officers to arrive, while Eaton stood by his side trying to do nothing to arouse his captain’s ire.

Callahan and Douglas appeared together, both looking slightly inebriated, most likely after a pleasant supper in the wardroom. Granger had been impressed by Callahan, who was in his mid-twenties and very efficient. “You sent for us, my lord?” Douglas asked.

“I have just been informed that Captain Pitcairn felt that he had the authority to override my orders and has denied shore leave to the marines,” Granger said.

“My lord, Captain Pitcairn felt that it was important to maintain order aboard,” Callahan said nervously. Granger could sense that he did not agree with that command.

“The marines are not exempt from my direction and I made no exception for them. I am unconcerned about order on this ship, as I have seen nothing but loyalty from this crew,” Granger stated. He knew the men on the quarterdeck would hear his words, as would the marines who stood rigidly at attention, trying to remain invisible.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Callahan replied.

“Mr. Douglas, as my first lieutenant, I expect you to see that my orders are executed accurately and properly,” Granger said. “In the future, I expect you to show more firmness and competence in your duties.” That was a major public rebuke, but it was one Douglas deserved.

“I must beg your pardon, my lord,” Douglas said, horrified.

“Captain Pitcairn’s directive contradicting my orders, if that proves to be true, is gross insubordination,” Granger pronounced, causing the entire quarterdeck to all but gasp. “I would have expected you to explain otherwise to him, Mr. Douglas, and if you were unable to do that, to at least inform me.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” Douglas said. He was horrified, all but watching his career potentially be destroyed by his inability to command the officers on this ship.

“Lieutenant Callahan, you will establish leave for the marines just as has been done for the rest of the crew. The first group can leave with me in 20 minutes.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said, hesitated for a moment, then fled below to implement Granger’s orders.

“When Captain Pitcairn returns, he is to be confined to his cabin until I am able to interview him,” Granger said. “Within the next two hours, I expect reports from each of you describing your interaction with Captain Pitcairn on this matter.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Douglas said. Granger stormed back into his cabin and shouted for Winkler.

“My lord?” Winkler asked.

“It seems the marines were denied shore leave, but I am rectifying that now,” Granger said. Winkler sensed his fury but said nothing. “I suspect they will need funds to enjoy it. Will you distribute money to them as you did to the rest of the crew?”

“Of course, my lord,” Winkler said with a smile.

Granger waited until his watch told him it had been twenty minutes, then returned to the quarterdeck to find some 20 marines and a sergeant assembled. “The men are ready, my lord,” Callahan said crisply.

“Well done, Mr. Callahan,” Granger said. “You will be in command of the marines on this ship until I have met with Captain Pitcairn.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said, without flinching, which was a good sign.

“Then let us go,” Granger said. He watched as Winkler and Jacobs gave each of the marines a few pieces of silver as they went over the side, then he followed them into his gig.

“Thank you, my lord,” the sergeant said, speaking for all of them. “Both for the leave, and for the money.” That got a rousing cheer from the other marines. Granger’s gig’s crew smiled as they rowed.

“You are welcome,” Granger said simply. He remained quiet for the brief trip ashore. When they disembarked, he told the sergeant where the sailor’s haunts were along the riverfront, and the squad went off in that direction. Finally alone, with his two marine escorts, he began to stroll through the quaint city streets

Granger had originally expected any challenge to his authority to come from Carson, but he and the master had worked through their issues, and Granger felt that they understood each other. Pitcairn was a traditional and unimaginative officer, but he had never expected him to countermand Granger’s orders. He evidently thought that the marines were ‘his’, and they were stationed on Calliope for Granger to direct but for him to command. That such a belief was contrary to the Articles of War seemed not to have dawned on him. He wondered if Smythe had given Pitcairn that impression, or if he was just creating issues to stake out his own authority. Regardless, this kind of challenge could not go unanswered.

Granger was even more disappointed in Douglas, who as first lieutenant should have ensured that this was never an issue. The man had clearly not taken the mental leap from being second lieutenant to first lieutenant, and he had not established his authority over the other officers. He was being weak. Granger paused and wondered if Pitcairn was more interested in challenging Douglas than Granger? Was Douglas basically ruled by the other officers?

Granger saw a familiar figure coming toward him and saw him stagger a bit. When he got closer, he recognized that the man was Fitzgerald. “Mr. Fitzgerald, are you lost?” Granger asked in a friendly way.

“My lord!” he exclaimed in surprise. “I was just heading back to the ship.”

“I opted to come ashore for a walk, and to enjoy this peaceful town at night,” Granger said pleasantly. “If you are capable, you are welcome to join me.”

“It would be my pleasure, my lord,” he said, and fell in step with Granger. The marines stayed a fair distance behind them, politely staying just beyond range of their muted voices.

“Where is Lord Daventry?”

“He is still at the house of ill repute, my lord,” Fitzgerald said with a grin.

“And you finished before he did?” Granger asked playfully, implying that Fitzgerald had no sexual endurance.

“Rather, when I got there, I did not find anything to interest me, my lord,” Fitzgerald said. “Instead, I had a few pints and was heading back to the ship.”

“You did not get to experience the sauna before, only the baths,” Granger said. “Perhaps you would like to join me?”

“With pleasure, my lord,” he said with a smile.

They arrived at the baths to find them closed, and Granger opted to avoid disturbing the owners. “Perhaps you would be willing to return with me tomorrow?”

“I am always at your service, my lord,” Fitzgerald said. With that, they continued their stroll.

“I would like to ask you a few questions, about the other officers,” Granger said. He saw Fitzgerald tense up, so he hastened to explain. “I would not normally ask the most junior lieutenant aboard about the other wardroom officers, but I have an issue I must deal with, and I do not yet have full knowledge of my officers.”

“Of course, my lord,” Fitzgerald said, understanding Granger’s dilemma.

“Captain Pitcairn overruled my orders providing leave to the men as it applied to the marines,” Granger explained. “I have corrected that.”

“I am not surprised, begging your pardon, my lord,” Fitzgerald said. “Pitcairn is most outspoken in the wardroom, and never misses an opportunity to assert that they are ‘his’ marines.”

“So I gathered,” Granger said ruefully. “I am most perplexed by the attitude of Mr. Douglas, who does not seem to exert any authority over him.”

“Or most of the other officers, my lord,” Fitzgerald said, and then seemed unhappy that he’d said that. Granger looked at him, demanding that he explain. “My understanding, my lord, is that Mr. Haversham was very unpopular in the wardroom. The other officers banded together to cope with him.”

“I am unclear how that impacts Mr. Douglas,” Granger said.

“My lord, now that he is tasked to lead, he finds himself in authority over his former allies, so to speak,” Fitzgerald said. And then Granger understood.

“He cannot assert himself without some of them, probably Pitcairn for the most part, challenging him,” Granger concluded. “And he must feel a debt to these men, so he does not take charge.”

“I think that’s true, my lord, but I wonder if he even knows what he is supposed to do,” Fitzgerald said. “I’m not sure he’s ready for the role of first lieutenant.” He said that last sentence with considerable nervousness. If he had been the second lieutenant, in Mr. Eaton’s shoes, Granger may have been suspicious of his motives, but Fitzgerald had nothing to gain from Douglas’s problems.

They walked on in silence as Granger digested it, and he subconsciously headed back to the dock. “It seems I have been remiss in helping him adapt to that role,” Granger concluded. Fitzgerald said nothing, a clear validation of Granger’s statement, and that pierced Granger to the core. The fault here was mostly his, for not grooming Douglas as he should have.