Peace of Amiens - 5. Chapter 5

August 28, 1801

HMS Endymion

Weymouth, England

“It is good to see you, Major,” Granger said to Gambier, and shook his hand warmly.

“It is a pleasure to see you again as well, my lord,” Gambier said, then got very apprehensive. “I have been hoping to run into you so I could apologize for my behavior when we interrupted Lord Frederick Cavendish’s duel.” Granger had ordered Gambier to seize Cavendish and his opponent, but Gambier had been so engrossed in Granger’s argument with Albert Maidstone-Bishop, the other man’s second, that he had not promptly executed Granger’s orders.

“Major, it would please me if you would forget the entire incident,” Granger said graciously. “When I think back to that day, I remember that you were a good friend, and were solely responsible for getting us to Windsor on time.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Gambier said, and almost sighed with relief. This had clearly been bothering him for some time. “I am curious as to why Your Lordship wanted to see me today?”

“I invited you out here to discuss the security arrangements for the Royal Family, and to host you to dinner,” Granger said. “I hope you are amenable to both.”

“With pleasure, my lord,” Gambier said. Granger led Gambier into his chart room and spread out the chart he’d looked at with Calvert.

“If someone were to effect an attack upon His Majesty with an eye to kidnapping him, how would they do that?” Granger asked.

“I suspect that they would have to send a rather large fleet, my lord,” Gambier said. “They would need at least two regiments to even have a chance at dislodging my troops, and three would be more likely. They would most likely need three transports for that, and would have to sortie warships big enough to chase Endymion away.”

“Endymion will not be running away,” Granger said firmly, but smiled to ease the comment.

“No, my lord, of course not,” Gambier said.

“So the solution to that is to keep His Majesty’s Life Guards alert to that possibility, and to have Endymion on patrol in this bay to thwart or at least warn you of an approaching attempt,” Granger concluded.

“That seems to be the most likely disposition, my lord,” Gambier said. It was no surprise that he had approached this as a soldier and had not even contemplated another option.

“If I were tasked with such a task, to kidnap His Majesty, I would take a different approach,” Granger said.

“My lord?” Gambier asked.

“Getting three transports as well as three or four warships to land a force with perfect coordination, especially at night, is probably beyond the powers of the French army, and I am quite sure it is beyond the capabilities of the French navy,” Granger opined. “I would opt for a smaller, more surreptitious assault.”

“A smaller group would easily fall foul of my men, my lord,” Gambier insisted.

“The key word there, Major, was surreptitious,” Granger said.

“Then what would Your Lordship do?” Gambier asked.

“I would send a small craft, like a lugger or a fishing boat, carrying a raiding party of no more than ten men, and I would land them here,” Granger said, pointing at Chesil Beach.

“That is a much shorter route to Weymouth, but they would then have to cross the Fleet Lagoon, my lord,” Gambier said.

“They could take a small boat with them, and with ten men could easily carry it across Chesil Beach and launch it into the Fleet. On a dark, moonless night, they could then transit over to the mainland and make their way into Weymouth,” Granger said. “I think that if I were planning it, I would have my men make landing on the mainland the first night’s priority. The next night, I would try to capture the King.”

“The boat would be obvious, and would be visible from Portland Castle, my lord,” Gambier pointed out.

“There are marshes or reeds in the Fleet where one could hide the boat, or conversely, the boat could be sunk in shallow water and held in place by rocks, then refloated quite quickly when needed,” Granger said. “They would then take the boat back across the Fleet, hauling His Majesty along with them, and there would be another craft to take them off and sail back to France.”

“I appreciate what you are saying, my lord, but such a plan seems most unlikely,” Gambier said.

“But is it impossible?” Granger asked.

Gambier frowned. “It is not, my lord.”

“Then I would submit it is our job to guard against that potential plan,” Granger said.

There was a knock on the door, then Winkler entered. “My lord, dinner is ready.”

“Let us dine and further discuss our plans, Major,” Granger said, and led Gambier into his dining room.

Granger smiled internally as Gambier looked at the beef Stroganov with disdain, then glanced at him indirectly as he cautiously took his first bite. “My lord, this is wonderful!”

“I agree with you, Major,” Granger said. “I acquired the recipe in Russia when I was staying with Count Stroganov. It is an old family secret, but he agreed to share it with the proviso that I reveal it to no one else.”

“That is most unfortunate, my lord,” Gambier said. “It is almost a crime against the British people to withhold something like that.”

Granger laughed. “I fear the British people will have to suffer lest I have to break my promise.” They finished dining, the staff cleared the table, then he and Gambier resumed their conversation.

“My lord, how would we prevent such an attempt?” Gambier asked.

“For such an operation, they will want to have an ideal wind, and they will want to make their landing on a moonless night,” Granger said. “That means we do not have to be overly diligent unless there is no moon, or it is overcast, and the wind is from the east.”

“Why the east, my lord?” Gambier asked.

“If the wind is westerly, Chesil Beach would be a lee shore, and no sailor is going to want to navigate that on a dark night,” Granger said. “A northerly or southerly wind would speed a boat in one direction, but they would be slower in the other direction as they worked upwind. That would make the ship more noticeable.”

“I can see that, my lord,” Gambier agreed.

“If the wind is easterly, they can glide into Lyme Bay and land their party, then the offshore wind will push them into the Bay quickly, where they can then easily go about and travel back to France. It would be done quickly, so it may be hard to detect them,” Granger said.

“When an easterly wind occurs, my lord, where will you position Endymion?” Gambier asked.

“The French ship will give Portland Castle a wide berth, so on nights when conditions are ideal, Endymion will position herself at the entrance to Lyme Bay, such that the Castle can cover the area closest to shore, and Endymion will patrol the rest of the opening,” Granger explained.

“What would you want of my men, my lord?” Gambier asked.

“I would ask that you have men on the hills next to the Fleet, enough so they can watch for a boat crossing it. If they spot one, they can send up a flare, or set up an ambush,” Granger said.

“I think, my lord, that an ambush would be better, because then we will be able to kill those who would hurt the King,” Gambier said a bit pompously.

“This is not a personal vendetta,” Granger noted firmly. “If France puts such a plan in place, it is foiled if the men are killed, but it is also foiled if it is exposed.” Gambier looked confused. “If a plan fails, and we are then aware of the existence of a threat, they will not be willing to try again.”

“I can certainly handle our part of things, my lord,” Gambier said.

“Then, if I divine that conditions are right, I will send you a signal that simply says ‘alert’, or if it is dark, I will show one Bengal lantern at the stern of the ship. You should respond with a corresponding signal, so I know you got the message,” Granger said.

“Then that is what I will do, my lord,” Gambier said. Granger thanked him, then led him over the side into his boat.

August 31, 1801

HMS Endymion

The English Channel

Granger was pacing the quarterdeck, chatting with Kingsdale, something he’d been doing for almost an hour. Lieutenant Austen stood on the other side of the quarterdeck with the other officers, carefully monitoring Endymion’s progress as she worked her way up-channel under topsails and reefed courses, going at a leisurely speed. It seemed as if this was nothing more than a yachting expedition. Winkler climbed up to the quarterdeck and, biding his time carefully, began walking next to Granger, skillfully interrupting his conversation. “My lord, dinner is ready,” Winkler said.

Granger looked at Winkler and blinked, a sign that he was re-orienting his mind away from his conversation with Kingsdale. “Excellent,” he said to Winkler, then turned back to Kingsdale. “I am glad we had a chance to catch up. We will talk more later.”

“I look forward to that, sir,” Kingsdale said with a smile.

“Mr. Austen!” Granger said, to summon his first lieutenant.

“My lord?” Austen asked, and hurried over to speak to Granger.

“Please send the hands to dinner,” Granger ordered. He would never dream of eating while his men had not been fed.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said.

“You have the ship,” Granger said, then began walking down the ladder to his cabin, hearing Austen’s acknowledgment of his orders echoing after him.

“I have a surprise for Your Lordship,” Winkler said, being cheeky.

“Not all of your surprises are pleasant,” Granger said to him dubiously.

“I think Your Lordship will agree that this one is,” Winkler said. They passed by the marine guarding Granger’s cabin and went into the large open room at the stern, the one that housed Granger’s huge dining table. The leaves had been taken out to make it much smaller, almost intimate, and sitting at the table waiting for him was Calvert.

“Francis, what are you doing out of bed?” Granger asked, trying to hide his fury that this man whom he loved would endanger his health by risking re-opening his wound.

“I decided, quite on my own, that I would be much better served by sitting up and eating dinner with you,” Calvert said. “The alternative was to wallow around in my cot.”

“Well, the deed is done, so I may as well enjoy your company,” Granger said, smiling at him. “I am impressed with how quickly you are recovering.”

“It appears that I have a hardy constitution and am a difficult man to kill,” Calvert said.

“I would prefer that you not test your mortality so directly in the future,” Granger said.

“As if you take fewer risks than I do,” Calvert teased.

“Perhaps that is good advice for both of us,” Granger said. Winkler and his staff brought out food, then left them.

“I noticed that we are at sea,” Calvert said.

“You are truly brilliant,” Granger said, getting a chuckle from Calvert. “I could not see the benefit of languishing in port when we could be patrolling the Channel.”

“That is most diligent of you,” Calvert said.

“It also provides me with the added benefit of being out of reach of His Majesty, and thus avoiding a summons ashore,” Granger said wearily.

“Evidently you are not only diligent, you are also clever,” Calvert said. They ate in silence for a bit, then Calvert opted to broach the information Winkler had imparted to him earlier. “And how are things with you?”

Granger credited himself with his stoicism, but somehow when he was with Calvert, that skill largely escaped him. Today was no exception, and he found himself subconsciously biting his lower lip. “There have been some good things, and some challenges.” He didn’t say anything for a bit, so Calvert prompted him.

“You are going to share these events with me?” Calvert asked in a very caring way.

“I am,” Granger said. “I already would have, but you have been so ill and I did not want to trouble you while you were struggling to recover from your wounds.”

“George, even if I was on my deathbed, I would still want to hear what is happening to you,” Calvert said sincerely.

“Have you read of my trek to Russia?” Granger asked.

“I heard that you had engaged three Russian battleships and had disabled or sunk the lot of them,” Calvert said, grinning with pride at Granger’s achievement.

“It was all in a day’s work,” Granger said vapidly, as if that was no great victory. They both chuckled at his comment.

“Then there is a big void between that and your promotion to the rank of Earl on your return,” Calvert said. “No one was happier or prouder of you than I was.”

“Thank you,” Granger said. “And you did not hear how fabulously rich I am?”

“You were already fabulously rich,” Calvert said.

“Bah,” Granger said playfully. “That was but a pittance. My aunt, Lady Kendal, died and made me the beneficiary of her estate. It has tripled my income, at least.”

“That is incredible good fortune,” Calvert said, his eyes wide.

“It is also a reminder of how much I owe my success to serendipity,” Granger said modestly.

“And we both know that is nonsense,” Calvert said firmly, unwilling to let Granger denigrate his own achievements. And so Granger began his tale, from the attack on St. Petersburg to his capture of Arensburg. He described Fritz von Beckendorf, and noted the frown on Calvert’s face. “You said he was handsome?” Calvert asked in a way that made it less of a question, and more of an accusation.

Granger frowned. “And you were celibate?” he challenged. He’d just started to open up to Calvert, and Calvert had shut him down with his jealousy. “I must go up on deck and see to our course.” Before Calvert could argue, Granger strode from his cabin and back up on deck.

“My lord, I was just about to call you,” Austen said. “We are off Le Havre.” Granger opted to go aloft, as much to increase his distance from Calvert as to ascertain who or what was surrounding them.

He climbed up to the maintop and was greeted by the lookout. “Bit of activity around the shore, my lord, but looks to be just local coasters and fishing boats.” Granger trained his glass toward the land and studied the activity the seaman had referred to.

“That was a good conclusion,” Granger said. He began to scan the rest of the Channel and saw nothing of interest. He grudgingly grabbed a backstay and carefully slid back down to the deck. “Mr. Austen, please wear ship and lay us on a course back to Weymouth.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen said. Granger stood in the background, watching as Austen deftly maneuvered Endymion so she was no longer sailing before the wind, but instead had the wind off her larboard bow.

Once Endymion was back on course, Austen trimmed the braces, making sure the ship was sailing beautifully into the wind. “That was well done, Mr. Austen.”

“Thank you, my lord,” he said. It was a glorious day, with warm temperatures offset by a constant breeze and calm seas.

“Mr. Austen, please open the gun ports,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said, and gave orders for that. Granger believed that it was good for the health of the men to air out the ill humors below deck whenever possible, and today was the perfect opportunity to do so.

Granger began to pace, as he had done so many times before, only instead of worrying about Caroline and her antics, this time his mind was absorbed with Francis Calvert. He had been ready to pour his heart out to Calvert, to open up to him like he did with no others, with the possible exception of Daventry. He had let himself be vulnerable, and as soon as his guard was lowered, Calvert had shut him down with his jealous attitude. Granger had to really focus to keep his anger from turning into rage. Calvert had all but forced Granger to accept his relationship with Gatling, but now that Gatling was dead and Calvert had no other lovers, was Granger supposed to be celibate? Worse, when he had been with Fritz, Gatling would have still been alive. He considered his words and realized that while Calvert had no current lover, there was nothing to stop him getting a new one. That raised a whole new level of agony in Granger, as his anger was compounded with the jealous demons that now rose up in him. He then began to criticize himself, pondering that the green dragon he had just experienced was probably no different than what Calvert had demonstrated. He paced back and forth, his mind racing from point to point, and the only result was confusion.

There was some commotion below, but Granger ignored it. It seemed to subside, so Granger put it out of his mind until Winkler appeared in front of him, looking nervous. “My lord, Captain Calvert tried to come up on deck and fell down the ladder.”

Granger stared at him, horrified. “Mr. Austen, you have the ship,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said, but Granger didn’t hear him because he was already hurrying down the stairs.

“They took him back to your cabin, my lord,” Winkler said, to guide him. Granger’s emotions surged, his fear for Calvert overcoming all of his normal restraints to the point that he was quite indecorous, almost shoving the marine guard out of his way in his haste to get to Calvert. Calvert must have been feeling guilty, so he’d decided to come up and see Granger. Only he’d fallen, so now it was Granger who would have to bear the dreaded burden of that emotion. He pushed past the canvas to find Dr. Jackson and his mate attending to Calvert.

“How is he?” Granger asked, or almost demanded.

“My lord, the wound has been reopened, but this may be a good thing,” Jackson said. Granger could not see how having a wound becoming more injured could be a positive, but he trusted Jackson so he said nothing.

Granger sat next to the cot on Calvert’s right side, avoiding his left side because Jackson was preparing to operate on that shoulder. “I am sorry,” Calvert said to him. “For many things.”

Granger leaned in so his mouth was next to Calvert’s ear and spoke softly so the surgeon’s mate wouldn’t hear him. He would not mind overmuch if Jackson or Winkler heard Granger and Calvert speaking more intimately, but he was determined that no one gave the surgeon’s mate any grounds to question their relationship. “It is I who should be sorry,” Granger said. “Dr. Jackson said this is probably a good thing, so we must trust him.”

“I do,” Calvert said, but he couldn’t seem to lower his voice like Granger could.

“Rest,” Granger said soothingly. “When you are better, I will tell you of my travels, and I will try to be less cantankerous when I do so.”

He backed off and Calvert smiled at him, then grimaced as Jackson probed his wound. “My lord, if you will pardon us, I want to move Captain Calvert into the direct light,” Jackson said.

“I will leave you,” Granger said.

“Where’s that laudanum?” he heard Jackson ask as he was leaving.

Granger went back up on the deck and was greeted by Austen. “My lord, how is Captain Calvert doing?”

“He re-injured his wound,” Granger said, remembering to make sure he kept his speech even. “Dr. Jackson is operating on him now.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but will he be alright?” Kingsdale asked. Granger remembered that Kingsdale had known Calvert since he first joined the navy and had sailed halfway around the world with him, so for him Calvert’s injury would be much more personal.

Granger smiled softly at him. “Dr. Jackson thinks this may be a good thing, but we will have to see.”

“Land ho!” the lookout called. “Weymouth!”

“Let’s get her down to topsails only, Mr. Austen,” Granger said. Weymouth was buoyed, and Granger already knew it well, so they were able to dispense with a pilot. Granger was completely focused on conning his ship to her berth, and only once that was done and the anchor had splashed into the harbor would he allow himself to be distracted. “You may leave the gun ports open as long as it stays warm,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen replied. “My lord, the other officers and I would be honored if you would sup with us tonight at 7:00.”

“I would be delighted, Mr. Austen,” Granger said, turning on his considerable charm. “Will you please make sure the hands are fed at that time?”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen said. Granger headed back to his cabin, smiling. Granger was used to a wardroom where he knew everyone, but he had not had the chance to get to know his current officers as well. It was a positive mark that they were taking the initiative to build a closer bond with him.

He walked into his cabin to find Winkler in the dining room, staring at Calvert’s compartment. The canvas that had been hung there let through enough light that it was possible to see the shadows of Jackson and his mate as they worked on Calvert. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” Winkler said, embarrassed at being exposed standing around gawking at shadows.

“Relax, Winkler,” Granger said, and stood next to him. “You will have a bit of time off tonight. The wardroom has invited me to dine with them.”

“Lord knows I could use a rest, my lord,” Winkler grumbled, while Granger shook his head indulgently. They stood there together, watching Jackson and his mate move around, until it seemed as if their actions had changed, and that they were now bandaging Calvert up. A moment later they saw Jackson approaching the canvas curtain so Granger and Winkler quickly acted like they were busy, so as not to let Jackson know they’d been there staring at him.

“My lord, I think he will get better now,” Jackson said. “There was a piece of his uniform that I had missed before. Now that it is removed, the body should be able to rid itself of its ill humors.”

Jackson handed him a small piece of blood-soaked blue cloth, which Granger took with his right hand then put into his left palm. “Thank you, Doctor. What must we do to care for him?”

“He should remain in bed until his wound heals, my lord,” Jackson said, shaking his head at Calvert and his evident unwillingness to try to recover without further injuring himself. He turned to Winkler. “You should make sure to keep him warm, and he should try to keep his shoulder relaxed and inactive.”

“We will do our best to contain him, sir,” Winkler said. Granger left them and went into Calvert’s compartment. The surgeon’s mate was in there, but a look from Granger sent him fleeing with indecent haste.

Granger pulled up the chair that was in his room then sat down while he studied this handsome man who had the ability to irritate him beyond measure, and to satisfy him even more. Granger reached over and held his hand, and was alarmed to find it was clammy. “Francis,” Granger said softly.

“George,” Calvert responded weakly.

“It seems that your idiocy in trying to climb up to the quarterdeck may have been a good thing,” Granger said playfully, determined to prop up Calvert’s mood.

“A good thing?” Calvert asked. He opened his eyes wider, but they were bleary from the laudanum.

“It seems that this piece of your uniform was residing inside you, and your body found it to be a most unwelcome guest,” Granger said, holding up the small piece of cloth.

“I should better tend to my garments, such that they do not try to invade me,” Calvert said, making Granger laugh.

“I am already working to solve that problem,” Granger said.

Before Calvert could ask Granger about that, he seemed to get mazey. “Will you stay here with me?”

“I cannot, because I have a busy social agenda,” Granger said, maintaining his lighthearted tone. “I am bidden to sup in the Wardroom tonight.”

“And what am I supposed to eat?” Calvert asked. He was in pain and very uncomfortable, but he still responded to Granger’s banter.

“You are sentenced to a fast as a punishment for vexing me by trying to walk about the ship,” Granger said.

“As my efforts may, according to you and the good doctor, have been the thing that will most aid in my recovery, I think your judgment is unfairly harsh,” Calvert said. Granger chuckled.

“While you may have logic and reason on your side, I am an ogre, and am irritated enough by the inconvenience of your wound to willfully take it out on you,” Granger said, then he leaned in close enough that he was sure that only Calvert could hear him. “Otherwise, you would be agile enough to make me happy, and my mood would most definitely improve.”

“That is my first priority when I am well,” Calvert said, and squeezed his hand tightly.

“When I have finished supper, I will come back here and join you,” Granger said. “I am not sure if I should sleep with you, as we are supposed to keep your shoulder stable.”

“I would risk death to have you next to me,” Calvert said earnestly.

“Hopefully it won’t be that dire,” Granger said. He gave Calvert a soft kiss, then exited the compartment to find Winkler waiting for him. “I am bidden to dine at seven, so perhaps you can help me get ready about half an hour before then. In the meantime, I will be in my office.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Winkler said.

Granger attacked the considerable amount of paperwork that plagued a captain in the Royal Navy until Winkler came in and helped him get ready for dinner. As soon as he’d accomplished that, Granger peeked in on Calvert only to find him sleeping, then he went down to the wardroom. Granger smiled as he heard rowdy voices beyond the bulkhead. He rapped on the door to get their attention, and the noise abated immediately. “Enter,” he heard Austen say loudly.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Granger said pleasantly as he walked into the wardroom. “I trust I am on time, and still welcome?” Granger asked that question because the wardroom was the preserve of the quarterdeck officers, and they were within their rights to exclude him, but as they had already invited him, it was merely a formality.

“You are most welcome, sir,” Kingsdale said. They had left the head of the table open for him, as was proper.

“A glass of ale for his lordship,” the Master called out. He was already inebriated, evidently.

“And how is Captain Calvert, sir?” Kingsdale asked, ignoring the Master’s interruption.

“Dr. Jackson explored his wound again and found an additional piece of his uniform. It seems that foreign objects like that can corrupt a wound, so the doctor is optimistic that this will speed his recovery along,” Granger said.

“You and Captain Calvert have been friends for a long time, have you not, my lord?” asked Captain Moultray, who commanded Endymion’s marines.

“We have indeed,” Granger said. “We met when I assumed my first command and he was appointed as the first lieutenant.”

“That was aboard the Intrepid, if I am not mistaken, my lord,” noted Bligh.

“Very good, Mr. Bligh,” Granger said. “I was sharing with His Majesty that Captain Calvert taught me a great deal about leadership.”

“My lord?” Austen asked curiously.

“He taught me to have confidence in my officers, and to give them a chance to prove themselves,” Granger responded.

“I had noticed that, my lord,” Moultray said. “You are much more likely to delegate the maneuvering of Endymion than her prior captain.”

“Indeed you are, my lord,” Austen agreed. “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I tell you we appreciate your confidence.”

“I am glad, Mr. Austen,” Granger said affably. “I must say I have been very impressed with Endymion. I am not speaking only of the ship, although she truly is a dream to command, but also of her officers and crew.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Austen said, speaking for all of them.

“I think, my lord, that you credit us when we have merely followed your leadership,” Bligh said. “You are known for having more intimate relationships with your officers.” Granger knew that Bligh was referring to dinners such as this, and not actual sexual conduct, but the comment had impacted him that way. He shrugged it off by teasing Bligh.

“Most of the time, at any rate,” Granger said with an impish smile, making the rest of them laugh while Bligh blushed. And then, much as he had done with the King, he told these men about Calvert and his career, and how their paths had met, then separated, then met again.