Peace of Amiens - 4. Chapter 4

August 26, 1801

HMS Endymion

Weymouth, England

“Boat ahoy!” came the shout from Endymion.

“Endymion!” Jacobs called back. A very exhausted George Granger prepared himself to board his ship, even though the energy to climb up the side seemed as if it would tax his last reserves. After his eventful day, which included saving Calvert from the evil French coast guard lugger, then conning the ship back to Weymouth, and finally spending some time with Winkler to get Calvert’s measurements. He knew that Calvert would have to attend the King and Queen when he recovered, and he’d need new uniforms to do that properly, so he’d sent a courier to his tailor in London with Calvert’s information. No sooner had he finished that than Their Majesties had prevailed on him to escort them ashore and join them for supper. It was a long, tedious meal that led to even more tedious conversation afterwards. Granger paused to reflect that the tedium was most likely the result of his desire to get back to the ship and check on Calvert.

The boat hooked onto Endymion, then Granger leaped for her chains, but his grip slipped and he ended up falling so that he was waist deep in the harbor. “Damn,” he muttered, now fully annoyed, and hoisted himself up the side.

“Welcome back, my lord,” Austen said, then looked at Granger’s wet lower body with sympathy. Granger was of a mind to vent his foul temper on this man, but that would be unfair, as Austen was turning out to be an excellent first lieutenant. Instead, he forced himself to be uncharacteristically pleasant.

“Endymion appears to be vexed at me for being gone,” he joked, as he glanced down at his soaked uniform. “I would be obliged if you would rig the wash deck pump.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen said. His face revealed no sign of surprise, but he was probably wondering what madness had overtaken Granger such that he wanted to take a shower at night. But Granger had reasoned that, since half of him was already wet, he may as well take care of the other half.

Granger went down to his cabin to find Winkler waiting for him. Winkler eyed his dripping clothes with disdain. “Let’s get you into something drier, my lord.”

“I have opted to take a bath, so a bathrobe would be the best form of attire,” Granger said.

“Of course, my lord,” Winkler said. He helped Granger change out of his clothes and wrap his naked body in his robe, then grabbed a towel and prepared to follow him up to the deck.

“I must check on Captain Calvert first,” Granger said. He strode over to his quarter gallery, which had been partitioned off from his cabin with heavy canvas made to function as drapes. He entered and found Calvert lying on his cot, swaying with the gentle waves in port tonight. Since he was obviously sound asleep, Granger left him alone and went up to take his bath. The water was invigorating, and a revitalized George Granger returned to his cabin and passed the word for Dr. Jackson.

Jackson arrived quite quickly. Granger smiled internally at how Jackson’s eyes swept up and down his body because he was just wearing his robe. “You sent for me, my lord?”

“I wanted to find out how Captain Calvert is doing,” Granger said.

“We moved him back here and managed to do it without causing him too much discomfort, my lord,” Jackson said. “I fear that his wound is still poisoned by the debris from his clothing, but after he rests tonight, he will hopefully have the strength to endure more of my probing.”

“Then we will watch over him until then,” Granger said, dismissing the doctor.

“Will you need your clothes, my lord?” Winkler asked.

“I think I will go check on Captain Calvert then go to bed,” Granger said. “See that no one disturbs me.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Winkler said, with just the hint of a smirk.

Granger pulled the canvas curtains aside enough that he could walk in, then he gingerly walked over to Calvert’s cot. It was a pleasant but cool evening, with the temperature somewhere around 55 degrees. Despite his blankets, Calvert was shivering. Granger smiled as he let his robe drop to the floor, then he carefully climbed into Calvert’s cot and molded his body against this man that he loved. Calvert had only been able to have a sponge bath, but Granger inhaled his aroma, his personal smell, and found it better than any perfume he could buy. “George,” Calvert said weakly.

“I hope you don’t think it too presumptuous that I just climbed into your bed,” Granger said, being cheeky.

“I will forgive you as long as you stay here,” Calvert said. Granger leaned in and kissed him gently.

“I will do that,” he said. He lay there with Calvert and could feel the incredible turmoil within him, but he could also feel it ebbing as they allowed the physical contact to heal Calvert’s mental wounds. “I got your letter after the action. It was so sweet of you to write to me when you were in such pain.”

“I fear that while the physical pain was agonizing, the pain in my heart was worse,” Calvert said. Granger knew he was referring to Gatling, and he felt the jealous demons rising inside of him, but instead of letting them consume him, he miraculously found a way to rationalize them. He remembered how he had felt when he had boarded Aurore and found John Travers dying, and had held him as he took his last breath. He remembered the incredible pain that had caused him, and then he understood Calvert.

“I know how that must have torn you to shreds,” Granger said, and kissed his cheek lovingly. “I felt so helpless that I was far away and could do nothing to assist you.”

“And I knew that if I could get to you, the pain would become tolerable,” Calvert said. “And now that I am here, and you understand me so well, and you are not angry or jealous, I feel like I can go on with my life.”

“Angry or jealous?” Granger asked playfully. “How could you imagine such a thing of me?”

Calvert gave him a dubious look, then laughed, only that seemed to aggravate his wound so he stopped abruptly. “It was wrong of me to assume I could arouse such emotions in you.”

“That is not why I am not angry and jealous, and as you have seen, you are quite able to generate those reactions in me,” Granger said, and got a smile from Calvert. “We have made our peace over Gatling. Let us not dwell on the past.”

“Yet I sensed that you still were irritated by him,” Calvert persisted, which actually did start to annoy Granger.

“How did you feel when you learned of John Travers’ death?” Granger asked.

“I was in awe of his courage, and of the brave and noble way he’d tackled two frigates much larger than Aurore,” Calvert said. “He was the quintessential warrior.”

“He was,” Granger agreed. Calvert gave him an annoyed look before continuing.

“I was sad because I knew how hard his death would be for you,” he said, then swallowed hard. “I was also a bit relieved, because I’d worried that he had more of your heart than I did.”

“Then you understand exactly how I felt about Gatling’s death,” Granger said. It was pleasant to see that statement first shock then calm Calvert down.

“I do love you, George, so much that sometimes it is painful,” he said.

“I love you just as much, Francis,” Granger said, then kissed him again. Calvert smiled, then drifted off to sleep, his shivering completely gone, and Granger slept just as soundly.

August 28, 1801

HMS Endymion

Weymouth, England

“My lord,” Winkler whispered. “It’s half an hour before dawn.”

“I’ll stay in bed a bit longer,” Granger said, then smiled at Calvert, who looked so angelic while he was sleeping. “Bother me again in half an hour.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Winkler replied, wisely being careful not to sound smarmy. Granger heard him leave then focused on this man whom he loved completely. Dr. Jackson had probed Calvert’s wound yesterday. Calvert was brave; there were no screams, but even with laudanum it must have been painful. He had slept the rest of the day, and then he’d slept for the rest of the night with Granger by his side.

Granger moved his leg up and came into contact with Calvert’s pubic region, then moved it higher until he felt Calvert’s erect cock straining against his thigh. Granger smiled, then reached down and slowly started stroking Calvert’s big member. He picked up his pace slowly, timing it so his pace became rapid just as Calvert had his orgasm. Granger nursed the last drop out of him, then brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked off Calvert’s seed, while Calvert’s eyes were locked on him. “You are my favorite nurse,” Calvert said, making Granger chuckle.

“And you are the best tasting patient I have had,” Granger said, raising his eyebrow, and watching Calvert swallow lustily. “Sadly, I must get up and get ready for the day.”

“I think you should stay here in bed with me all day,” Calvert said playfully.

“I will be back tonight,” Granger said. “You seem much better.”

“I feel as if my wound can now heal,” Calvert said, then pulled Granger to him for a kiss. “Both of them.” Granger knew he was referring also to his heart.

“You have not yet told me of your capture, or more specifically how you escaped,” Granger said. He’d dashed off a brief report to the Admiralty with a notice about their ‘battle’ but had not had a chance to get information from Calvert.

“I have a lot of respect for the captain of the Spitfire, a young lieutenant named Shears,” Calvert said. “He truly did everything he could to escape from that French frigate.”

“I am surprised that she was caught,” Granger said. “Intrepid was fast enough to evade most frigates.” Calvert smiled at him as they remembered the sloop that had been both Granger’s then Calvert’s first command.

“She may have been able to do that, but as we learned with Belvidera, French frigates are fast,” Calvert said.

“I briefly commanded the Calliope, a 36-gun Forfait-designed frigate, and she was even faster than Belvidera.”

“Because she was longer?” Calvert asked.

“Possibly, or because her scantlings were lighter,” Granger said. He loved moments like this, when he and Calvert would talk to each other as naval officers and not just lovers.

“Fascinating,” Calvert said, then got back to his story. “Spitfire was one of those crank quarterdeck sloops. Should have scrapped the lot of them.” Intrepid had originally been a French corvette and had been reclassified as a sloop in the Royal Navy. She was flush-decked, speedy, and maneuverable. The quarterdeck sloops were an older design, and having the quarterdeck stacked on top of her main deck, along with a fo’c’sle as well, not only made them slower, but increased the surface area exposed to the wind, making them dangerous off a lee shore.

“I have heard that about them,” Granger said wryly.

“We’d jettisoned everything, all but a third of our water and our food, and all of our guns. It still was not enough to lighten the ship sufficiently to escape,” Calvert said sadly. “When the French frigate caught up with us and put a shot across our bow, we had no choice but to surrender.”

“There is no dishonor in surrendering to a much superior force,” Granger said, even though he knew it was still very tough to bear.

“Have you ever had to do that?” Calvert asked.

Granger nodded. “When I was in command of Belvidera and was sailing back to England, we encountered a fleet of Spanish ships sailing with French ships. This was before a formal state of war existed between Britain and Spain. We were surrounded by Spanish ships, two 74-gun ships of the line, at least two frigates, and the Santissima Trinidad was approaching as well.”

“Those would appear to be overwhelming odds,” Calvert said.

“The scales were a bit tipped,” Granger joked. “I remember how I felt when that happened: totally helpless.”

“Didn’t you get out of that by telling Admiral Langara that you had just met with the King of Spain and that we weren’t officially at war?” Calvert asked, remembering that episode.

“I did, and they were kind enough to let me go,” Granger said. “I was also aboard Leander when she had to surrender to the Généreux. That was also traumatic, but since I was not her captain, I did not feel such a weight of responsibility for that event.”

“Do you think you could have battled a French 74 with a 50-gun ship and won?” Calvert asked, raising an eyebrow.

Granger pondered that. “I think I could have fought her better, but I suspect the outcome would have been the same.”

“What would you have changed?” Calvert asked.

“Captain Thompson acted like he also commanded a 74, and did not endeavor to avoid battle,” Granger noted. “He reduced sail well before he had to, thus eliminating any chance to stay out of range longer and possibly escape. In addition, he used no imagination when tackling Généreux; he merely sailed up parallel to her and slugged it out.”

“Thompson was thinking as the captain of a ship of the line, while you were thinking as the captain of a frigate,” Calvert pronounced. “As Leander was closer in size to a frigate, your approach would have obviously been better.”

“Obviously,” Granger joked, making them both chuckle.

“Begging your pardon, my lord, but you told me to come back in half an hour,” Winkler said nervously.

“I will dress in here and that way you can hear Captain Calvert’s tale as well,” Granger said.

“I will be right back, my lord,” Winkler said.

That prompted Calvert to continue his story. “We were captured by the Voluntaire, a Sane-designed frigate of 40 guns,” Calvert said. “Her captain, Laurent, was very polite and treated me and Mr. Shears quite well. He was an honorable adversary.”

“That is good to hear,” Granger said.

“We were going to put into Brest, but the Channel Fleet was out and that scared them. They were considering Cherbourg instead, but the winds were foul for that port, which is how we ended up in LeHavre,” Calvert explained.

“I know the Governor of LeHavre well, and would consider him a friend,” Granger said cautiously, hoping that man had not caused Calvert problems.

“I did not get to meet him. I was put under the charge of Major Clement, a brutish man who was born a peasant, and still acted like one,” Calvert said bitterly. “He demanded that I pledge not to escape, but based on his attitude, I could not give up that option.”

“I take it he did not appreciate that,” Granger said ruefully. Winkler came in and as unobtrusively as possible started to help Granger dress.

“He did not, and ordered that I be held in the fortress,” Calvert said. “That was actually not too unpleasant, and the commander of the fortress was kind enough to lend me some books. I think it has improved my French.”

“That is always a good thing,” Granger said.

“Major Clement determined that I was not miserable enough, and resolved to transfer me to a prison hulk,” Calvert said.

“That is quite brutal, to place an officer, a captain no less, on a hulk,” Granger said, both horrified and angry.

“He felt no need to be accommodating since I had not given my parole,” Calvert said. “They were transferring me to the hulk, and had chained my wrists. They had done a botched job of it, and within five minutes I was able to release my hands. The major was a complete idiot, because not only had they done a bad job of tying me up, they’d also started this transfer at dusk. It was dark by the time we got in the boat. I bided my time, then with one hand I reached over and grabbed the knife of the coxswain, then swung back and stabbed it into Clement’s chest. I used the force of my body to accentuate that swing while at the same time knocking the coxswain out of the boat.”

“Incredible,” Granger said with admiration. That must have been a very precise and choreographed maneuver.

“Thank you,” Calvert said, beaming at praise from Granger. “Clement was wallowing around, trying to die, but I was able to grab his pistols then shoved him out of the boat too.”

“Didn’t the boat’s crew respond?” Granger asked.

“A man in the front of the boat fired a pistol and it hit my shoulder. It was incredibly painful, like being hit by a huge rock, but I managed to shoot back at him with one of my pistols and kill him,” Calvert said. Granger stared at him in awe, marveling at the warrior Calvert was. “There was a fishing boat sailing out to sea, so I directed the boat toward it and, holding my remaining pistol, jumped aboard.”

“I suspect the captain was a bit surprised,” Granger said.

“He was indeed,” Calvert said. “I held my pistol to his head and told him to take me out to sea. That was really my only plan, to hope that I could find an English ship. He turned out to be a very nice man, and told me that he would be happy to do so, since he was going that way anyway, but would prefer not to do it with a gun pointed at him.”

Granger laughed. “I can see where that would be a bit intimidating.”

“I had managed to keep about 20 guineas, so I gave him 10 of them, and that changed his mood entirely,” Calvert said, shaking his head. “At dawn we were beyond LeHavre, and I thought we’d escaped, only to find a French lugger chasing us.”

“That must have been uncomfortable,” Granger said. “You’d escaped and killed your captor along with at least one other man, and then were about to face captivity again by the same foe.”

“It was not the most pleasant prospect,” Calvert agreed. “The lugger was gaining on us, and we had almost given up hope when the mate on the fishing boat spotted this ship. He first assumed she was French.”

“Endymion could easily pass as a French frigate, since her lines were copied off the Pomone,” Granger noted.

“They were so kind, George,” Calvert said, referring back to the men on the fishing boat. “They were very worried about me and began trying to dream up ways to hide me. I did not fancy being buried under a mound of newly caught fish.”

“That would certainly require that you use a copious amount of perfume for a while,” Granger joked, then smiled gently. “It seems as if you made some friends.” Calvert nodded.

“We finally discerned that it was a British frigate, and I felt euphoric, knowing that I would most likely be saved,” Calvert said. “I was truly stunned at how fast Endymion sails. It was like she was a witch.”

“She can reach almost 15 knots with the wind on her quarter,” Granger said, and watched Calvert’s eyes grow huge.

“What do I have to do to get to command her?” he joked, making Granger laugh.

“I am only allowed to have her until October,” Granger said, then explained that he was only her interim captain.

“That’s dashed bad luck,” Calvert said.

“It is,” Granger said. Hearing this reminded Granger of how smart Calvert was, and that prompted his next move. “I wonder if you would look at a chart with me?”

“I would be happy to, but I am not sure that I can get up yet,” Calvert said, and began to try to hoist himself up.

“Sit still,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Calvert replied, making Winkler chuckle.

“I will bring the chart to you,” Granger announced.

“Your timing is good, my lord, since you are now dressed,” Winkler pronounced.

“I would say that it is not my timing that is good, but yours,” Granger said to Winkler, then patted him on the shoulder as he left the cabin and went to gather his charts.

“Sir, may I speak freely?” Winkler asked Calvert softly but with a bit of urgency, since he wanted to speak his mind before Granger got back.

“Of course, Winkler,” Calvert said, although he was a bit nervous, because Winkler had the ability to make him feel incredibly guilty about how he’d hurt Granger when he’d been with Gatling.

“His Lordship and Her Ladyship are separated,” Winkler whispered. “This has been very hard on him.”

“What happened?” Calvert asked.

“He will tell you,” Winkler said. “I just wanted you to know how glad I am that you’re here. When he heard you were wounded and believed you may be dead, I have never seen him break down so badly.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me, Winkler,” Calvert said, and reached out to hold his hand briefly.

Granger came in, saw their hands linked, and raised an eyebrow. “I was just asking Captain Calvert if he was well enough to try that recipe you brought back from Russia, my lord,” Winkler lied.

“That sounds wonderful,” Calvert said. “I am quite hungry.”

“Then I will make sure you both have breakfast, and with Your Lordship’s permission, I will ask Lefavre to make the Stroganov for dinner,” Winkler said.

“I will probably also be hosting Major Gambier and his lieutenant,” Granger noted. Major Gambier was the executive officer of His Majesty’s Life Guards, and Granger had encountered him a few times before. “And possibly Captain Moultray.”

“I’ll let him know,” Winkler said, then left them.

Granger sat next to Calvert and unfurled the chart, stooping lower so they were both looking at it from the same angle. “This is a chart of Weymouth and the Isle of Portland.”

“And what am I looking at this for?” Calvert asked.

“I am tasked to watch out for the Royal Family while they are here, and while I am sure Major Gambier has thought of a possible attack from a military viewpoint, I wanted you to look at it with me from a naval perspective,” Granger said. “If you were tasked to capture, or possibly kill the King, how would you do it?”

Calvert gave him a dubious look. “You have already thought this through,” he accused.

“I have, but I want your ideas,” Granger said.

“One would think that the best option, or at least the most obvious, would be to land a party near Bowleaze Cove, but with the Life Guards on duty, along with this ship, that would appear to be a suicide mission,” Calvert said, then looked at the map more carefully.

“So what would you do?”

“I would approach Chesil Beach at night and land there,” Calvert said.

“The Fleet Lagoon separates Chesil Beach from Weymouth for about 8 miles along the coastline, so you would have to go over the beach and then find a boat, and then row over to the mainland,” Granger noted.

“Ah, but if you took a small boat, you could haul it over the beach and use it to get to the mainland,” Calvert said. “It is still almost impossible. To get a large enough party ashore, you would be too obvious. It would be unlikely you would be able to avoid His Majesty’s troops.”

“I would agree with you, but a small party that lands at night and is stealthy could possibly accomplish their goal and escape before morning,” Granger said.

“You came to the same conclusion,” Calvert accused.

“I did, so that obviously means it is brilliant,” Granger joked. “There are peace talks going on right now, so I am unclear how that would affect the French need for such a plan, but I would suspect that if they were able to capture the King, that would be a powerful bargaining chip.”

“Indeed, it would,” Calvert said.

“So now you are to help me figure out a way to thwart such an attempt,” Granger demanded.

“Even though you have already done that as well,” Calvert said, acting annoyed.

“I want to make sure my assumptions are correct,” Granger said. “In this situation, I must have a well-thought-out plan, because if I turn out to be wrong, or seem like I’m insane, it will negatively impact my reputation.”

Granger lived in a different world than Calvert did, and Calvert knew that Granger’s reputation was vital to his ability to wield influence. “Where does Endymion usually patrol?” Calvert asked.

“Sometimes we anchor in port, as we have the past few nights, but on other nights we patrol the bay in front of Weymouth,” Granger said.

“Then I would shift Endymion so she patrols in Lyme Bay, and rely on the military and Portland Castle to intercept any interlopers in Weymouth’s bay,” Calvert said. “I would also have the military patrol the mainland across from the Fleet. They would be able to see them coming across that lagoon.”

“And if they will not do it, we could send Endymion’s jolly boat to patrol the lagoon,” Granger noted.

“Indeed you could,” Calvert said.

“I think you have come up with a most ingenious plan,” Granger said, and leaned in to kiss him.

“You’re just saying that because my plan is the same as your plan,” Calvert countered.

“When we are on the same page, we are almost unstoppable,” Granger said. He patted Calvert’s cheek, then went off to have his breakfast, while they fed Calvert’s to him.