Northern Exposure - 65. Chapter 65

May 27, 1801

Visby, Sweden

Granger bowed his head as they lowered Captain Pitcairn’s coffin into the ground. Pitcairn had evidently sobered up, realized the mistake he had made, and been unable to grapple with having his career destroyed. He’d killed himself in his cell yesterday. He had somehow managed to fashion a sharp implement from the plate his dinner had been served on and had used that to slit his wrists. He’d uttered not a sound as he'd done it, such that the steward and marines were shocked to discover his already dead body when they’d gone to pick up his dinner plate. Granger had decided that in the end, his suicide was probably a good thing. He had no positive feelings for the man, so overcoming basic human nature to grieve his death was relatively easy. If Pitcairn would have lived, he would have been all but banned by society, which was, to Granger, a fate worse than death. He also acknowledged a bit of selfishness in this situation, since by killing himself, Pitcairn had certainly saved him a goodly amount of work, not the least of which was avoiding a court martial. He'd also saved Granger time because he would have had to stay with the fleet while the court martial proceeded.

Even though his head was bowed in reverence, Granger forced his eyes high enough that he could glance at his officers, who all wore appropriately solemn expressions as they bade Pitcairn a final goodbye. Douglas was perhaps the most interesting of the bunch, for he appeared dour as was required but underneath that he seemed almost resolved. Watching him was intriguing enough to occupy most of Granger’s time as the chaplain droned on, then finally the thing was done.

“I feel that we have not done your brave soldier justice, my lord,” Backstromm said as soon as it ended. He was probably contrasting Pitcairn’s truncated funeral to the much grander event they’d held for Cochrane.

“I appreciate your sentiments, sir, but this is adequate,” Granger said. Cochrane had sacrificed his life to accomplish his mission, delivering the boxes and key to Granger right before he died. Pitcairn had a relatively undistinguished military career that seemed to be on a decline, ultimately culminating in his charge for gross insubordination.

“I understand your lordship plans to leave at dawn tomorrow?” Backstromm asked. He’d told the mayor this at least three times, so his repetition was frustrating.

“I am, and I must thank you again for your wonderful hospitality,” Granger said. Creevy had been very successful in acquiring stores for Calliope, even managing to buy a goodly number of limes and lemons, although they were expensive, and Granger was sure it would end up costing him some money. It was worth it to ward off scurvy.

“Perhaps you would like to join me for supper?” Backstromm offered. Granger had already dined with the man today and did not feel the need to spend more time with him. He could also sense that Backstromm was tired of his company as well, and that this was merely a formality.

“Thank you for the generous offer, but I intended to enjoy one more sauna and then return to see that Calliope is prepared to sail,” Granger said. “I am hoping I am not offending you.”

“I completely understand, my lord,” Backstromm said with relief.

Granger handed Backstromm three letters, one to van Rajalan, one to von Fersen, and one to van Galan. “In addition to imposing upon your hospitality, I am wondering if I may ask for an additional favor, and bid you to post these to Stockholm for me?”

Backstromm briefly scanned the names on the envelopes and nodded. “That is no problem at all, my lord.”

“Then I will bid you adieu, sir,” Granger said, and shook the man’s hand.

“I hope that your lordship will stop and visit us whenever you are in these waters,” Backstromm said. “We will not worry about whether we are at war or not.”

Granger laughed. “I will do that.” With that, he was able to take his leave from this man, and strolled from the graveyard back to the town, accompanied by his still mournful looking officers.

“With your permission, my lord, we will return to the ship,” Douglas said to him. He had ended up enjoying the sauna yesterday with both Douglas and Fitzgerald, conveniently fulfilling his pledge to both of them. With Douglas’s assertion of authority, combined with Pitcairn’s death, Calliope’s wardroom had seemed to slip into a proper routine, and Douglas seemed to have a good grasp on things.

“You all may go except Mr. Anson, whom I will keep with me as I do some shopping,” Granger said. That made sense to the others, since he’d been Granger’s aide on his prior visits to Visby. “Assuming that is acceptable to you, Mr. Anson?”

“It will be my pleasure, my lord,” Anson said, forcing a smile. The young man was still troubled, although Granger doubted that the others noticed it.

Douglas and the others wandered down one street, while Granger and Anson, along with their two marine guards, took a different one. They were strolling purposely toward the sauna when Granger spotted a store that appeared to contain musical instruments. “Do you play a musical instrument?” Granger asked Anson, as he paused in front of the business. It had been so long since he’d played his flute or his clarinet, he wondered if he would be able to remember how.

“I play the violin, my lord, but have not done so in a while,” Anson said.

“Let us go see what they have for sale,” Granger said impulsively. They went into the music store and found a friendly gentleman named Johann, who conveniently enough spoke English.

“Do you play an instrument, my lord?” he asked Granger.

“I am competent with the flute and the clarinet,” Granger told him.

“Has your lordship ever played a bass clarinet?” Johann asked.

“I do not think so,” Granger said, confused about what that was.

“Then you shall have to try it,” he said, and pulled out a case, much larger than one for a regular clarinet, and appropriately enough pulled out a larger clarinet. “It plays a deeper bass tone. Try it.”

He assembled the instrument and handed it to Granger, who played a few notes from memory and was entranced by its deeper tone. “This is a most interesting instrument,” Granger exclaimed.

“Sadly, it is not Swedish, but made in Germany,” Johann said. “Then again, with precision instruments, it is hard to beat the Germans.”

“It is quite beautiful,” Granger said, as he paused to admire the craftsmanship.

“And what about you, young man?” Johann asked Anson.

“I play the violin, sir,” Anson said respectfully.

“Then how about something completely different,” he said, and took down another case. He pulled out an instrument that seemed to be a guitar with a keyboard. “This is a nyckelharpa. It is an old Swedish instrument.”

“How does one play it?” Anson asked.

“Let me show you,” Johann said. While he spent time showing Anson how to play the nyckelharpa, Granger occupied himself by experimenting with the bass clarinet. He was totally absorbed by the instrument, all but entranced, conscious only of its sounds, along with some noise in the background from the instrument Anson was working on. “You are quite accomplished with that, my lord,” he said, observing how quickly Granger had mastered the device. His words had drawn Granger out of his haze and forced him to reemerge into the real world. “And you, young man, are getting the hang of the nyckelharpa. You are an excellent study.”

“Thank you, sir,” Anson said shyly.

“We’ll take both of these,” Granger announced.

Sensing an opportunity to make a bigger sale, Johann opted to tease Granger. “Would you like to see my most prized nyckelharpa?”

Internally Granger rolled his eyes at Johann, but he was too polite to say no. “We would love to.”

He pulled out a much fancier case and opened it, revealing a gorgeous nyckelharpa. “It is made from wood imported from Brazil, and the keys are fashioned from ivory,” Johann said, as he ran his hands lovingly over it. “Sadly, most Swedish people do not seek such a luxurious instrument.”

Granger’s mind shifted to the most talented violinist he knew: Cavendish. This would be a unique and interesting present for him. “And how much will you charge me for all three of these?”

Johann named a price that was probably high, expecting Granger to barter, but such haggling was quite beneath his dignity. He pulled out his purse and paid the man, who seemed quite shocked that Granger agreed to his deal. He almost seemed to have pangs of guilt, and stopped Granger before he could leave.

“You must take this with you as well, my lord,” he said, handing Granger a smaller case. “This is a spilåpipa, a small flute that is easy to play. Perhaps for times when you want something simple.”

“Thank you,” Granger said, and left the store with Anson carrying their cases. They found the unfortunate marines waiting for them, who ended up trailing after them, lugging the cases.

“What will you do with the nyckelharpas, my lord?” Anson asked as they strolled toward the baths.

“The one we did not play, the one made from Brazilian timber, I am going to give to Lord Frederick Cavendish, who is one of my dearest friends,” Granger said. “He is also the best violinist I have encountered in the Navy.”

“I am sure he will appreciate it, my lord,” Anson said.

“I am going to give the one you were playing to you, with two provisions,” Granger said.

“Thank you very much, my lord,” Anson said.

“You have not even heard my provisions,” Granger joked, flirting a bit with the young midshipman.

“I cannot think of anything you would ask me to do that I would not do, my lord,” he said, in almost a coquettish way. It was hilarious to see him try to be flirtatious and charming, something which he had not begun to master. Granger gave him a considering look, which made him blush, then smiled.

“You are making me revise my list of demands,” Granger said in a tone similar to Anson’s, to try to make him less embarrassed. “Here is what you must do. First, you must master this instrument, then you are going to share your talents with me.” Anson swallowed hard at Granger’s comment, which was laced with double entendres.

“My lord, I am not sure I could do justice to such a large purchase,” Anson said, exposing his insecurities.

“I am confident that you can,” Granger said with a smile.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said, and smiled back. “I will do my best.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. “The second thing you must do is show Lord Frederick Cavendish how to play it when we get back to London,” Granger said.

“I will be happy to try, my lord,” he said nervously. “I am not sure how good of a teacher I will be, but I will welcome the opportunity to meet his lordship.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. He noted that Anson seemed to be very worried about disappointing Granger, and it dawned on him that this young man viewed him as some sort of hero. Granger found that annoying but tried not to damn him for it. “And now you must join me here at the sauna, one last time.”

“I should probably get back to the ship and attend to my duties, my lord,” Anson said nervously. Granger was getting frustrated with his midshipman, who he expected to be more excited about their excursion. At the same time, he knew something was bothering Anson, so when mention of the sauna made him recoil, Granger opted to push the issue.

“Nonsense,” Granger insisted. “Besides, personal cleanliness is important.”

“Perhaps Mr. Colston or Mr. Parker would also enjoy the experience, my lord,” Anson said, seemingly more agitated.

“Mr. Anson, it is not only rude, but also unwise to negatively respond to a suggestion by your superior officer,” Granger said firmly, now terrifying the young man. His posture was slightly playful, but severe enough to let Anson know he was close to irritating Granger.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” he stammered hastily. “I would be happy to join you.”

“Good,” Granger said succinctly, and walked up to the sauna. He had paid them to reserve the establishment for his own use during his stay, so they were very attentive.

“We have everything ready, my lord,” the owner said. “We knew you would be ashore for the funeral.”

“That is very thoughtful of you,” Granger said. He and Anson went into the bathing area and began to undress. Granger went slowly and deliberately, making sure to keep his uniform in pristine order, while Anson was in a hurry, leaving his stockings in a wad and his breeches tossed haphazardly over a bench. He all but ran to the bathing tub and got in, then seemed to let out a sigh of relief. As Granger was undressing, he saw Anson look at him, then hurriedly look away lest he get caught. Granger was starting to suspect what was bothering Anson. “How is the water temperature?” Granger asked.

“Quite warm, my lord,” Anson said dismissively.

Granger walked over to the bathtub and stood next to Anson, pretending not to notice that he was staring at Granger’s body as if memorizing every piece. Granger reached into Anson’s tub to check the water and allowed his fingers to graze against Anson’s thigh, making the young man moan quietly. “It is indeed quite warm.” Granger got into his own tub and closed his eyes, peeking out the sides to see Anson ogling him. “Let us rinse off and enjoy the sauna,” Granger announced.

“Can I join you there in just a minute, my lord?” Anson asked horrified. Granger was sure he had a raging erection and did not want to stand up and be exposed. “This feels really good.”

Granger got out of the tub and allowed the soapy water to drip down. His own cock was half hard, so to tease Anson he walked slowly over to the rinsing tub, spreading his legs toward Anson as he turned his torso around to check the water. When Granger turned around he caught Anson staring right as his cock, his mouth wide open, the look of raw lust in his eyes. “Perfect,” Granger said, and sank into the rinsing tub.

Anson got out, keeping his back to Granger, and managed to get into the rinsing tub without exposing his dick. Granger mentally chided himself for teasing a 15-year-old midshipman, even a very attractive one, but he had not had a sexual encounter since leaving Russia, and his libido was quite inflamed. He noticed that Anson was lithe, with well-developed muscles, and tufts of blond hair under his arms and in his groin. Granger smiled when it dawned on him that he must have looked quite similar to Anson when he was 15. “Ready for the sauna?” Granger asked.

“Yyyess, my lord,” Anson stammered. He had evidently thought this through, because he got up quickly and almost ran into the sauna. Granger smiled and followed him. He was sitting on the bench on the right side, with his legs crossed.

Granger walked by him, and the feeling of Anson’s eyes on his body brought his dick fully to life. He put some water on the coals to add steam, then went and sat next to Anson, who did not move a muscle. Granger spread his legs, making contact with Anson, and exposing his erect cock. “Would you like to tell me what is bothering you?” Granger asked him.

Anson turned to face him, and Granger could see the lust in his eyes, which shielded the internal torment he was feeling. Granger was worried he may end up vomiting all over both of them. “When I am around you, you inflame me,” he said, then looked away, ashamed.

Granger put his hand on Anson’s cheek and pulled his face around so they were facing each other again, then he leaned in and kissed him, getting at first a slight reaction, then one that was much more intense. Granger took his hand and guided it over to his own cock, which Anson stroked gently. His reluctance vanished, and he opened his mouth, darting his tongue forward to wrestle with Granger’s. Granger maintained their kiss as he ran his fingers along Anson’s outer thigh, then his upper thigh, and then his inner thigh, coaxing Anson’s legs apart. That finally released Anson’s dick, which shot up and slapped his stomach, making Granger laugh and stopping their kiss. Granger got down on his knees and admired Anson’s cock, perhaps a bit longer than six inches and a bit thicker than what Granger considered to be normal. Before the young man could say anything, Granger took it into his mouth. “Ahhh!” Anson cried after a few seconds, and Granger tasted his load, so sweet and pure, as it pulsed into his mouth. They had gotten quite heated, but when Granger stood up, Anson’s legs were still wobbly from his orgasm, and Granger had to help him up. He walked back over to the soaking tub and got in, but when Anson made to get into his own, Granger stopped him. “Join me.”

“With pleasure, my lord,” he said, and got into the tub so he was sitting on Granger’s lap facing him. Granger slid him forward so his hard cock was firmly lodged in Anson’s crack, then gripping Anson’s ass cheeks together, he slowly began to slide his cock up and down, causing it to graze Anson’s hole. Anson moaned and leaned forward to kiss Granger, and that oriented his own dick such that it rubbed against Granger’s abdomen as they writhed together. Granger went as slow as he could, but finally his body overrode him, and he picked up his pace until he reached orgasm, joined almost simultaneously by Anson.

They rinsed off then got dressed, with Anson looking sheepish and confused. “I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Granger said.

“More than anything I’ve ever experienced, my lord,” Anson said. Granger gave him a nice kiss then they left the sauna and strolled toward the dock. While that interlude seemed to clear the air a bit, there was still something bothering Anson. Granger had assumed it was his attraction to Granger, and possibly to other men, but perhaps there was a deeper issue.

“I sense that there is something bothering you,” Granger said.

“Don’t worry about me, my lord,” Anson said dismissively.

“As you are a young midshipman with limited experience, and I am a captain who has spent many years in the Navy, I think you would be wise to share your thoughts with me,” Granger said. “After the intimate moments we shared, I would think that would provide bonafides of my good faith.”

“I am worried that if I tell you, you will think badly of me, my lord,” Anson said.

“I will pledge my word that our conversation will stay between us,” Granger said, neatly backing Anson into a corner.

Anson looked at him with alarm, realizing that if he did not reveal his issues to Granger, he was questioning Granger’s word. He looked down as they strolled along, as if steeling himself, then he looked up with resolve. “I don’t want to be in the Navy.”

Granger stared at him, a bit surprised, since he had not encountered this before, at least not from a midshipman. He paused to marvel at Matheus, and how going to sea was a driving force within him, while here was Anson, who evidently did not see the attraction of waves and storms. “Why did you join?” Granger asked.

“It was expected of me, my lord,” he said bitterly. “I am a few generations removed from my ancestor, the great admiral, but it is expected that young Anson men will go to sea.”

“I think that is admirable, that you would put the interests of your family first,” Granger said.

“Thank you, my lord,” Anson said, but seemed more depressed than ever.

“I suspect that if you spoke to your parents, or other family members, you would find that they would understand if you wanted to pursue something else,” Granger said.

“I’m not so sure about that, my lord,” Anson said skeptically. His reluctance to confront them, as well as his general shyness, made Granger question his leadership ability, then he chided himself, because that is exactly the reason Anson didn’t want to talk about this in the first place. He had been worried that if Granger knew he didn’t like the Navy, he would do nothing to help him with his career. Granger smiled inwardly, thinking that the boy had unwittingly duped him into doing just the opposite, because he would have to demonstrate that he hadn’t, in fact, taken Anson’s admission against him.

“If you were not serving in the Navy, what would you do?” Granger asked, opting to redirect their conversation.

“My options are limited, my lord,” he said.

“I did not ask you that,” Granger said, in a less-friendly way. Anson’s negative attitude was starting to grate on him.

“I would go to Oxford or Cambridge, my lord,” he said. “I have spent most of my time when I’m not on duty reading.”

“Why did you not go into the bookstore with me?” Granger asked.

“I would have loved to, my lord, but I fear that I would have been tempted to spend money I need for new uniforms on books,” Anson said.

Granger abruptly changed directions and headed to the bookstore. “Now that Lord Daventry has removed himself from the local whorehouse, I would like you to spend some time discussing this with him.”

Anson chuckled, then got more serious. “Are you sure, my lord?” Anson asked fearfully, worried that yet another powerful person would know that he really didn’t want to be in the Navy.

“I am sure, Mr. Anson,” Granger insisted. “You act as if I, and Lord Daventry, would not have your best interests at heart. I understand that it is important to be cautious when trusting others, but I would think we are esteemed enough for you to exhibit a bit more confidence.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” Anson said, horrified. Granger softened his attitude, realizing that this young man must feel completely isolated with his secret. He felt he could not tell his family and he could not share this with anyone on board, lest it destroy what he perceived as his inevitable career.

“I joined my first ship when I was quite young, so I did not get to continue my education. Lord Daventry did, and he is much more knowledgeable about that world than I am,” Granger said.

“I understand, my lord,” Anson said. “I will seek out Lord Daventry when we return to the ship.”

“Excellent,” Granger said, just as they walked up to the bookstore. Anson seemed surprised that they were here, so focused had he been on their conversation. “You have half an hour to buy as many books as you can carry back to the ship.”

“My lord?” Anson asked, his eyes wide, even as a huge smile broke across his face.

Granger opened the door to usher them in, then pulled out his watch. “Time is wasting, Mr. Anson.”

Anson hurried in and began browsing through the selection. Granger watched, grinning as he picked up a book, put it back, then picked it up again, trying to balance which ones were important enough to buy. “I am so glad you are back, my lord,” the bookstore manager said. “I received another old volume and was about to send a message to your ship.”

“That is most fortuitous since I am to leave tomorrow morning,” Granger said. The man brought out the volume, which was quite gorgeous, more beautiful even than the others. It had clearly been hand-engraved and illustrated, with vivid colors and beautiful type. Granger bartered with him briefly over the price, wondering why he had been unwilling to do so at the musical store but he was quite comfortable doing so here at the bookstore. He almost laughed as Anson brought up a stack of books. He truly had picked just as many as he could carry.

One of the books fell from his hands, so Granger picked it up. It was a book on economics, which Granger thought was odd, but he made no comment. “I’m sorry, my lord. I should put some of these back,” Anson said, suddenly realizing that he’d been a bit zealous.

“Nonsense,” Granger said. “Besides, your thirty minutes are up.” Granger paid for the books and they waited for the manager to package them up so they were easier to carry, then left the store.

“I cannot thank you enough for the books, my lord,” Anson said. He kept looking at them, as if he could not wait to read them.

“I am glad to further enhance your knowledge,” Granger said. He looked at the marines sent to guard him, who were now so encumbered with items to carry they would be of no use if real danger approached. He chuckled as he headed for the dock with Anson in tow.