Northern Exposure - 67. Chapter 67

June 18, 1801

HMS Calliope

The North Sea Off Great Yarmouth

“I suspect that dawn will find us outside of Great Yarmouth,” Granger said. They had been able to fix their position yesterday, and the winds had been fair, so Granger felt fairly confident about his pronouncement.

“Compared to our outbound trip, we have made good time,” Daventry noted.

“I am most glad for that,” Granger said, letting his fears show briefly through his façade.

“How is our Norwegian?” Daventry asked grimly, knowing that was why Granger was in such a hurry, and knowing that the answer would not be good.

“It appears that his wound is becoming gangrenous,” Granger said sadly. Anson and Robard had worked wonders trying to save van Hjelmeland, but he had gotten weaker every day, until now it was all he could do to sit up and eat. It was perhaps ironic that despite his illness, he had become quite popular with the officers and crew of Calliope, although the two who were most entranced by him were Matheus and Anson. For Matheus, he found a sailor from a similar background, one with whom he could communicate in his native tongue. He spent many of his off-watch hours with the handsome Norwegian. For Anson it was more of a challenge, with him trying desperately to find remedies in the medical books they had available even as the patient decayed.

“If it is gangrenous, it must certainly be lethal,” Daventry noted.

“Not if we can track Dr. Jackson down in time,” Granger said. “If we can, that will give our lieutenant a fighting chance.”

“Dr. Jackson can cure gangrenous wounds?” Daventry asked in amazement.

“He uses a specific type of maggot and releases the creatures into the wound. They will devour the unhealthy skin, and leave the non-gangrenous skin to heal,” Granger said.

“Maggots?” Daventry asked.

“It is not pleasant, especially when they grow fat from their gluttony and must ultimately be removed with urine,” Granger said.

“I suspect that it is a better alternative to death, but only barely,” Daventry observed ruefully.

“I have found that watching this treatment challenges my control of my stomach such as it has rarely been tested,” Granger noted.

“Deck there!” came a shout from the foretop. “Breakers two cable’s lengths ahead!”

“Mr. Douglas, heave to,” Granger ordered, barely remembering to hide his panic. Douglas executed the maneuver quickly, but no amount of speed would calm Granger’s accelerated pulse.

“Does that mean we are near Yarmouth?” Daventry asked.

“The fleet does not anchor in Yarmouth, it anchors in the roads,” Granger explained. “There are several sand bars hereabouts, and those create a safe anchorage for ships.”

“So there are no piers or docks?” Daventry asked.

“There is a pier, a jetty if you will, that is used for boats to communicate between their ships and the land,” Granger said, even as he waited impatiently for dawn to fully break. “Those same sandbars can make things hazardous, as one certainly doesn’t want to run aground.”

“Especially not in clear sight of the land,” Daventry noted.

Granger was of a mind to anchor, but he opted to remain hove to. Slowly dawn burst upon them and revealed them to be in the most perfect position imaginable. They were right at the entry of St. Nicholas gatway, with the Corton sands to one side and Kettle Bottom on the other. “You may square away, Mr. Douglas,” Granger ordered. It was fortunate that someone had placed buoys along the channel, largely making a pilot unnecessary.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said, grinning at their perfect landfall.

“Summon that lookout down from the foretop,” Granger ordered, then waited until the man appeared in front of him.

“My lord?” the man asked. He was an older sailor, but one with good eyes, evidently.

“That was good work, Knowles,” Granger said, and handed him a guinea.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said. Granger nodded at him and he ambled off.

Granger had met with Daventry to work out their plans when they landed. They had then shared their plans with Douglas and Creevy, and finally with Boles, Winkler, McGillivray, and Jacobs. Finally, Anson and Robard had been consulted as to how best to transport Lieutenant von Hjelmeland. There was one piece of their journey that continued to bother Granger, so he opted to raise the issue with Daventry. “I am still not clear why you think a military guard is important.”

“As I have told you before,” Daventry said, with no small amount of irritation, “it is important for our power and our security. We must be seen to be arriving with fanfare, which will make it difficult for the government to sideline us.”

“And that is what bothers me,” Granger objected.

Daventry gave his friend a patronizing look. “There is another reason. We will be all but a convoy, with carriages and wagons, which will make us very conspicuous. We have both of us brought thousands of guineas worth of purchases with us, and it would be the ultimate in foolhardiness to lose it to highwaymen.” Granger had to admit that such a caravan would make an attractive target for a determined gang of thieves. He was about to observe, however, that they would already have ample men with them driving those vehicles, not to mention their personal staffs, when he opted instead to cave to the inevitable.

“Perhaps I just needed to hear your reasoning again,” Granger said, smiling to acknowledge that Daventry’s proposed course of action was the safest.

“Boat ahoy,” he heard the call from the focs’l.

“Guard boat,” came the response.

“We have visitors,” Granger observed to Daventry. That was to be expected when a ship, especially a warship, entered a major anchorage. A lieutenant pulled himself through the entry port and smartly saluted the quarterdeck. He looked vaguely familiar, with reddish blond hair and a huge smile.

“Welcome to Yarmouth, my lord,” he said. “I am Lieutenant James Eastwyck.”

Granger smiled, understanding now why the man in front of him looked so familiar because he was the younger brother of Charles Eastwyck. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Granger said in a friendly way, then introduced him to Daventry. “And how is your brother doing?”

Charles Eastwyck had been one of Granger’s lieutenants aboard Bacchante and was one of Somers’s cousins. Eastwyck had ended up spending time with Granger in Paris, where they had been lovers, and Granger had made sure he was posted to Valiant. He’d been seriously wounded during their battle with pirates and had come home after that to recover. James was his younger brother. “He is doing better, my lord,” James said a bit solemnly. “It’s been a tough battle, but he seemed to finally be making good progress the last time I saw him.”

“He is an incredibly brave man,” Granger said with respect.

“Thank you for your kind words, my lord,” he replied.

“They are true,” Granger asserted.

“I must apologize, my lord. I have neglected my duty,” Eastwyck said.

“And what dereliction have you committed?” Granger asked.

“My lord, I fear I must admonish you,” Eastwyck said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Indeed?” Granger asked. “And what sin am I accused of committing.”

“The list is too long to even contemplate,” Daventry joked, making all three of them laugh.

“Your lordship entered Yarmouth Roads without waiting for a pilot to guide your lordship in,” Eastwyck said with the same playfulness Granger had experienced from his cousin and his brother.

“You will please note for your report that my lordship has been duly admonished,” Granger said, even though he didn’t care about that at all.

“Duly noted, my lord,” Eastwyck replied. “I would be obliged if your lordship would anchor when it is convenient.”

“Anchor, Mr. Douglas,” Granger ordered. “And as soon as is practical, I’ll need all the boats lowered, with my gig first.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Douglas said.

“Is there a regiment stationed nearby?” Daventry asked Eastwyck. “We will need an escort for ourselves and our baggage.”

“With your permission, my lords, I will return to Yarmouth and send word to such troops as are in the area,” Eastwyck said.

“We will seek you out when we disembark,” Granger said, and ushered the pleasant young man over the side.

“When are you planning to leave the ship?” Daventry asked him.

“I would think I would need to be here for at least another two hours,” Granger said, thinking of all the things he still needed to do.

“You will make it difficult for us to reach Ipswich while it is daylight,” Daventry grumbled. It would take them at least two days to reach Brentwood.

“It will take more than two hours to assemble our entourage and troops, so I think you are blaming me for delays which are not accountable to me,” Granger said, and raised his eyebrow playfully,

“Perhaps,” Daventry said in a dejected way, which caused them both to laugh.

“Boat ahoy!” they heard the lookout from Calliope shout.

“Calliope!” came the reply. Granger stood there for a moment, stunned that his relief would arrive so quickly. Perhaps St. Vincent had decided to permanently beach him?

“You will have to leave sooner than you think,” Daventry said.

“We will see if I can still take two hours,” Granger said, then turned to face the entry port. When Calliope’s new captain pulled himself onto the deck, Granger’s normally stoic visage was shattered, for he could not stop the huge grin that spread across his face. Lord Bertram Brookstone, with his red hair and freckled face, beamed back at him.

“Sir, I fear I have come to relieve you,” Brookstone said.

“This is the only time in my career that I have been happy to relinquish command of a ship,” Granger said, the pride audible in his voice. Brookstone had joined Belvidera as a mere boy, a midshipman coming aboard his first vessel, and had been with Granger through all his successes with that ship.

“I am glad you are here with me, sir,” Brookstone said with a look that almost contained hero worship. Granger had been a key part of Brookstone’s life and his career, and was in fact probably much more influential in helping him develop than his own father.

Granger introduced him to Calliope’s officers, then set the wheels in motion to formally transfer command. “Mr. Douglas, please have the hands lay aft,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Douglas said. The marine drummer began to pound out the call while the words “all hands” were passed down the hatches. The result was almost instantaneous as the hands poured up to the main deck and focs’l, staring at the quarterdeck in anticipation.

In the time-honored method of the service, Brookstone read the orders appointing him as captain. “Mr. Douglas, you may dismiss the men,” Brookstone said. It was only then that Granger realized that Daventry had absented himself. It was odd that he would avoid an important rite such as a change of command.

“Allow me to show you to your quarters,” Granger offered.

“With pleasure, sir,” he said. The marine sentry snapped to attention then opened the door, with Granger leading Brookstone into the frigate’s great cabin. When Brookstone saw Daventry, he froze, then glared. “I have business to attend to, but when that is over, I will seek satisfaction from you.”

Granger looked at Brookstone, then at Daventry, and was too stunned to speak. One minute he’d been ebulliently watching Brookstone, who was much like a son to Granger, swearing himself in for the first time. The next, Brookstone was challenging Daventry, a man who was more of a brother to Granger than the two he already had, to a duel. “I will of course offer you satisfaction,” Daventry said with a respectful bow.

“I will know the reason for this,” Granger asserted, finally pulling himself out of his state of shock.

“It is a private matter, sir,” Brookstone said.

“Then you are now to let me in on the secret,” Granger said, only his voice was loud and severe, something Brookstone had never experienced directly. He was within his rights to refuse, but the tone and the look from Granger compelled him to yield to Granger’s demand.

“Lord Daventry has dishonored my sister,” Brookstone spat toward Daventry. “She was forced to leave the country, and as she is unmarried, the reason for her travels is obvious. Her life is destroyed.”

“I did not have carnal relations with your sister, Brookstone,” Daventry said. He stood erect, with perfect posture, and exuded an air of calm assurance.

“Do not lie to me,” Brookstone said.

“Your words would insult me, so much that if I did not already know that we were to duel, I would demand satisfaction myself,” Daventry said, his eyes betraying the fury behind his façade.

“I have never known Lord Daventry to misrepresent the truth,” Granger said. “I think a better solution is for us to have a seat and hear his explanation.” That they both sat in the chairs in his quarter gallery was evidence that Granger had taken charge of the situation.

“I am sorry for that Daventry,” Brookstone said to him sincerely, and that served to soften the mood. Daventry chose to ignore his apology and focus on the core issue.

“Have you met Penelope Brookstone?” Daventry asked Granger.

“I have seen her at Court but I have not been formally introduced,” Granger replied. Her very large bosoms had attracted much attention.

“She is a very vibrant young lady and is someone whom I consider to be a close personal friend,” Daventry said.

“That is the problem,” Brookstone replied.

Daventry ignored him. “Penelope was enamored of one of her father’s footmen. I believe his name is Cedric.”

“She was sleeping with Cedric?” Brookstone asked in complete shock.

“Their encounters ultimately resulted in her pregnancy,” Daventry said.

“Impregnated by a footman?” Brookstone asked, horrified. Granger shared his surprise. To carry the child of someone so below her station was beyond anything society would tolerate. It was made worse since she was unmarried, and now clearly not a virgin. She would be lucky to ever marry at all, and whomever she ended up with would most likely be significantly below her in the social scale.

“Impregnated,” Daventry replied, then said nothing.

“Why did she tell me that you were the father?” Brookstone asked Daventry.

“Because of your reaction, and that of Granger,” Daventry said.

“Me?” Granger asked.

“You were so upset it broke through your stoic shields,” Daventry said, knowing correctly that would irritate Granger. “If she admitted it was Cedric, she would be banished from society forever. If she blamed me for being the father, because of my rank, she will be able to survive this pregnancy and still seek a reduced place in society. She will complain of my raffish ways, and will make it seem that my seduction was all but irresistible, just as much as if I had forced myself upon her.”

“You certainly won’t have to worry about this tarnishing your reputation,” Granger said, chuckling.

“As Granger has so bluntly pointed out,” Daventry said, pretending to be in a snit, “my life as a cad is well known. I will come out little worse for the wear.”

“When did you work out this arrangement with Penelope Brookstone?” Granger asked.

“Before we left for the Baltic,” Daventry said. “She was very distraught, and it was a solution that gave her hope.”

“Daventry, I must ask you for a large indulgence,” Brookstone said. Daventry just looked at him. “I would ask you to pledge your honor that what you have told me is true.”

Granger looked nervously at Daventry, who was so angry he was like a powder keg, and this was likely the match that would spark an explosion. He began to think of ways to deflect Daventry’s ire, but then Daventry’s anger seemed to completely dissipate, to be replaced by his prior calm. “I pledge my honor that what I have told you is true.”

“Then I wonder if you would indulge me in an even larger manner.” Brookstone asked. Daventry nodded. “I would ask you to allow me to withdraw my challenge and would further ask that you forgive me for insulting your honesty and integrity.”

Daventry stood up, as did Brookstone. “I can see how matters involving family members, especially female family members, can sometime lead to false impressions. Let us pretend that this event never happened.”

They bowed to each other, then Brookstone extended his hand and Daventry took it. “I think that was quite a noble thing that you both did,” Granger said. “But now that the histrionics are over, perhaps you will both indulge me and allow me to familiarize Brookstone with his new command.”

“I hardly think histrionics is a reasonable way to put it,” Daventry said. “Nonetheless. I will leave you two to speak of nautical things while I enjoy the lovely weather on deck.”

Granger and Brookstone sat in the leather chairs in the quarter gallery. Winkler and Boles oversaw the removal of Smythe’s furniture, while Granger told Brookstone about his experiences since taking command of Calliope. Granger shared his impressions of the officers and petty officers, and told Brookstone that he was taking Anson with him. Their conversation lasted until the only furniture left was their chairs. “My lords, would you like us to return for the chairs later?” Winkler asked, a subtle hint to them that it was time for them to leave.

“I have not had a chance to greet you yet, Winkler,” Brookstone said as he rose up from his chair. As soon as he did, a man grabbed it and hauled it on deck, while another did the same for Granger’s chair as he stood.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, my lord, and begging your lordship’s pardon, but I’m quite proud of you,” Winkler said deferentially.

“Those words are more valuable than gold,” Brookstone said.

“My lord, we have finished packing up,” Winkler said to Granger.

“Then let us go,” Granger said. He bid Brookstone goodbye then followed Daventry into the boat. As he was leaving, the crew of Calliope manned the yards and cheered for him. Granger smiled and took off his hat to thank them. He left feeling proud of what he had accomplished with the nimble frigate. He had turned her from a crank ship that was the laughingstock of the fleet into a truly efficient warship. He had inspired his officers, showing them how to lead, and he’d earned the respect of the crew.

“You are quite popular,” Daventry observed.

“I am astonished that your own statement seems to surprise you,” Granger noted dryly. “Everyone loves me.”

Daventry laughed, as did the boat’s crew. Granger had forgotten they could hear him and turned red with embarrassment, which made Daventry laugh even harder. “Indeed they do.”

They arrived at the dock to find a carriage waiting for them, along with 12 dragoons. “My lords, I’m Captain Barrett of His Majesty’s 1^st Norfolk Dragoons,” he said. He looked to be in his early thirties, and was pleasant enough.

“We are obliged to you for escorting us,” Daventry said. Granger thought it was interesting that when they came ashore, Daventry became much more assertive, whereas at sea he would defer to Granger.

They boarded the vehicle and once they cleared the jetty there were small crowds to begin with, but the masses grew the further they went, all of them cheering and waving at them. “We are popular,” Granger said to Daventry wryly.

“I think it is you who are popular,” Daventry said. “My arms are tired from tossing out copper coins.”

“I must think of an evil way to transfer this fame to you,” Granger said. To Daventry, such an occurrence would be welcome, because he enjoyed the adulation of the mob. Granger could not bring himself to relax until they were in the country with no idolators chasing after them.

“What are your plans?” Daventry asked.

“I will spend at least a day or two at Brentwood for some respite, then I think I will repair to London,” Granger said. “What will you do?”

“I think I must go directly to London, but as I will need a place to stop on the way, I think I will impose upon you and spend the night at Brentwood while I continue to enjoy your company,” Daventry said.

“I would have thought that by now you would have tired of my conversation,” Granger said.

“Rather, I would miss not having you around,” Daventry said in a very caring way. Daventry’s expression was one of complete sincerity, while Granger’s was one of shock.

“I would miss you as well,” Granger said fondly. Their mood got a bit maudlin, so Granger returned to more practical topics. “Brookstone was given orders to wait for Calliope and take command as soon as she arrived.” Granger said that in a conversational way, but Daventry could discern that it bothered him.

“You are right now, as we sit here, trying to decide if Lord St. Vincent has finally found you so impertinent that he must run you out of the navy,” Daventry said in an unpleasant way, one that was especially jarring after the intimate moment they’d just shared.

“You make it sound as if that is not probable,” Granger said, admitting to his fears.

“That is utter nonsense, George,” Daventry said. “They had Brookstone there to relieve you so you’d leave the ship. I am sure the government is anxious to tap into your store of knowledge about Russia, at least.”

“When I do not have a ship, I feel adrift, as if I am completely out of my element,” Granger said.

“You will get another ship, and it will have to be a good one, because if it is not, all of these people who cheer for you will be ready to storm the Admiralty,” Daventry said. “I would suggest you look at this as a benefit to putting up with the mob.”

Granger pondered that. “I am thinking that I have matured over the past few years.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” Daventry said. “Why?”

“Up until this point, the thought that the views of the populace would impact the decision on whether I would get a ship, and what kind of ship I would be given, was abhorrent to me. Now I am willing to make that tradeoff: to be more appreciative of the mob because it gives me influence in acquiring a command.”

“It sounds as if you are perhaps becoming a better politician as opposed to maturing,” Daventry teased.

“I preferred the way I phrased it better,” Granger quipped, making them chuckle. “What will you do with Anson?”

“He is hardly mine to freely dispose of,” Daventry said, then answered Granger’s question. “I am sending him to Harrow.”

“That is almost high treason, for an Etonian to condemn the lad to Harrow,” Granger joked.

“I do not think he will thrive at our alma mater. I think that he will find a better home at Harrow,” Daventry said. “I have thought much about this, and Anson has a more artistic flair. They will appreciate him more.”

“I am impressed not only at your knowledge of both schools, but the thought you have put into the decision, and how you have embraced Anson,” Granger said.

“He is a bright young lad, and it is very satisfying to find someone so intelligent and then to be able to give them the opportunity to succeed,” Daventry noted.

“I suppose that is similar to how I feel when my officers show promise,” Granger noted to himself. “I am willing to fund his education and ensure he has a proper allowance.”

“I decided I would make that my responsibility,” Daventry said. “That way, he will love me more. At least there will be one person in this kingdom who feels that way.”

Granger laughed. “I wonder if my charming personality will endear him to me even in the face of your pounds and guineas.” Daventry laughed with him.

After they stopped laughing, Daventry took a measured look at Granger. “I sense your apprehension.”

Granger frowned, because he did not want to talk about his apprehension and because his discomfort was so obvious Daventry could sense it in him. “I am unsure of what awaits me, and that increases my anxiety.”

“I feel much as you do,” Daventry said. “We left this country last fall and since then we’ve ushered in a new government in Russia while at the same time our own government has been rearranged.”

“Rearranged?” Granger asked.

“It is much as if it were still Pitt’s ministry, only without Pitt and his former Whig allies,” Daventry observed. “You would feel more confident if Spencer were still at the Admiralty.”

“I would indeed,” Granger agreed. “But as that is not an option, I must hope I fare well with St. Vincent.”

“Is St. Vincent the only person who makes you nervous?” Daventry asked.

“Ever since I returned from the Battle of St. Vincent and found Caroline pregnant with Elizabeth, I am nervous about what she has done or is doing,” Granger admitted. “She sometimes does not see what others do when they look at her. It is dangerous.”

“When she is in love, or enamored with someone, it seems that those feelings of passion overwhelm her common sense,” Daventry observed. “You are worried that one day her lack of discretion will ruin her, and maybe you.”

Granger was unwilling to argue whether those were his fears, because Daventry was correct and they both knew it. Granger opted to trade a futile argument into an opportunity to garner insight. “Will it?”

Daventry sat back in the carriage for a bit, clearly pondering Granger’s question. “It might.” He saw Granger’s look of sheer terror at the thought of what Daventry must think Caroline capable of. “Calm down George.”

“It is as if you have reached into my mind, captured my fears, and thrown them onto the ground in front of me,” Granger said in frustration.

“I do not think she would do anything on purpose, and I did not say that I was sure that she would do something to ruin herself. For some women, such as your mother, her doing something that society would morally condemn is too ridiculous to contemplate,” Daventry observed. “For other women, they are not as worried about what society thinks, and that makes them vulnerable to passion. I think Caroline falls into the latter category.”

“You make her sound as if she is a bomb where the fuse is lit and it is just a question of how long it was cut,” Granger said.

“I hope you will not hold my opinion against Caroline,” Daventry cautioned. “I do think that as she matures, just as you have, the risk of her passion becoming that risky abates somewhat.”

“And why are you apprehensive?” Granger asked, in an effort to deflect the discussion away from him.

“I really have no one but an infant to come home to,” Daventry said. “I am not sure he will be enough to ground me.”

“You are worried that you will cavort with the same rakes you associated with before we sailed, and that will corrupt you?” Granger asked in a slightly playful way.

“I think that is probable in any event, but it seems that I must begin to think of marrying again,” he said.

“Perhaps your affair with your countess has made you long for a relationship that is more about love and less about sex,” Granger posited.

“Perhaps,” Daventry said. “And perhaps a marriage will help me move on from that pain.”

“I am surprised you developed such strong feelings for her so quickly,” Granger said.

“You are surprised because I am more like Caroline, where I am willing to push the rules of society for true love, while you are like the woman who would never risk everything for a romance,” Daventry said almost bitterly.

Granger wanted to laugh at that, as if his entire life wasn’t built around such a risk but opted not to. “Perhaps,” he said simply.