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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Peace of Amiens - 8. Chapter 8

September 3, 1801

Cowes, England

 

Granger was smiling even as he panted, trying to catch his breath after a truly amazing round of lovemaking. “No one has ever satisfied me like you do,” Granger said.

Calvert grinned and blushed a bit, looking like a proud schoolboy. “You already know that you satisfy me more than any other.”

“Well, that should stand to reason, so that is rather old news,” Granger joked. “That I think that about you is much more noteworthy.” Calvert laughed, then they playfully jabbed each other, which ended up with them playfully head-butting each other and laughing. Granger got up and retrieved some water for them, then lay back down on his side so he was facing Calvert.

“I love you, more than anything,” Calvert said, with so much meaning in his words, they struck Granger with the force of a cannonball.

“And I love you,” Granger said, and paused. Calvert started to get upset, but Granger put his hand on Calvert’s chest to calm him. “I was just trying to think of anything I love more than you.”

“And what did you come up with?” Calvert asked, a bit nervously.

“There is no other person, but my family is very important to me,” Granger admitted. He was being honest with Calvert, but he felt terrible. Calvert leaned in and kissed him.

“I know that, George,” Calvert said. “It will always be that way, and it does not bother me.” Granger leaned in and wrapped his arms around Calvert, hugging him tightly.

“When I thought I had lost you, my world ended,” Granger admitted.

“It appears I am a hard man to kill,” Calvert said wryly. “You have had your own terrifying brushes with death.”

“The fever was the worst,” Granger said, and lay back on the bed, so that he was on his back while Calvert was on his side, his leg lying over Granger’s. “I felt so close to death. I could see John Travers standing in front of what seemed like a portal, beckoning me. I knew to follow him in would mean death, but I was being drawn into it, like it was a powerful whirlpool.”

“What saved you?” Calvert asked.

“Chartley,” Granger said, swallowing as he did. He watched Calvert’s eyes narrow, even though he tried to stop them. “He climbed into bed with me and held me tightly. He told me that he had beat that monster, and he would help me beat it as well.”

“I am glad he was there for you, but it is difficult to hear about your other lovers,” Calvert grumbled.

“Why?” Granger asked. “I would ask you to be fair and remember that I heard about your relationships.”

“I only had two,” Calvert said, all but calling Granger a slut.

“And both of those were a threat to us,” Granger said, not a little angrily. “You see, that is the difference between us. I have been with other men and women, but none of them even comes close to your place in my heart. You, on the other hand, will gladly slot in a replacement for me.”

“That is not fair,” Calvert argued heatedly.

“No?” Granger asked. “It seems that way to me.” Calvert flopped onto his back and they lay there, saying nothing for at least five minutes. This was the agony of his relationship with Calvert: the passionate highs were often linked to equally passionate lows.

Calvert rolled back over on his side and gently stroked Granger’s chest, getting a smile in return. “You were going to tell me of your adventures in Russia and I reacted badly. I would like it if you would share them with me.”

“I am worried that you will only grow more disgusted with me,” Granger said. “We have so little time together. I do not want to argue with you.”

“George, I think these unpleasant exchanges are the way we get to know and understand each other better,” Calvert said. “I need to learn to curb my jealousy. I think if you tell me of your trek, it will help.”

Granger nodded. “I believe I had left off my tale when I mentioned Fritz von Benkendorf. I first met him when we captured Arensburg.” Granger described how they’d had a formal exchange of fire, then Arensburg had surrendered.

“Why would they do that?” Calvert asked. “It is as if they were anxious to surrender.”

“Because Fritz supported the Governor of Lithuania, Count von der Pahlen, and he was the leader of the attempt to topple Tsar Paul from the throne,” Granger said, abbreviating the political story. He knew Calvert would not be overly interested in that. “I parted ways with Daventry, and he went on to Riga.”

“Are you and Daventry lovers?” Calvert asked.

“We are not,” Granger said. “Our relationship is not like that. Besides you, I have a deeper friendship with him than with anyone. I have given him my proxy in the Lords to act if I leave the country, and likewise I have asked him to oversee my estate, such as it is.”

“I don’t have any friends like that,” Calvert said. “I just have you.”

“Surely that makes sense to you, that I would be more than enough,” Granger joked.

“Surely,” Calvert said, chuckling. Granger told Calvert of his journey to Memel, and how he’d appropriated three ships full of meat, vegetables, and grains. He explained that he’d unloaded two of the vessels in Arensburg to stock the granaries. “What did you do with the third ship?”

“We took it to Visby,” Granger said.

“That is on an island in the Baltic, is it not?” Calvert asked.

“It is on Gotland,” Granger confirmed. “I had met the governor, and I knew that I could use that as a base, but to ensure I was welcome, I brought them the ship with food.”

“So you stole three ships full of food from the Prussians, and then you used them to make friends with the Russians and the Swedes,” Calvert mused. “You are brilliant.”

“I would like to think so,” Granger said, then laughed. He recognized that he did not get uncomfortable when Calvert praised him like he did with most people; rather he treated it as a joke. “We got to Visby and found that Angus Cochrane was there.”

“The same man we met in Rio?” Calvert asked.

“The very same,” Granger said. “He was in Visby, dying of typhus. The governor rushed me to him, and I was only able to exchange a few words with him before he died.”

“That is unfortunate,” Calvert said somberly, as Cochrane had befriended the officers in Bacchante’s wardroom, including Calvert.

“He pulled a small key out of his mouth and handed it to me,” Granger said. Calvert raised an eyebrow. Granger then explained to Calvert how the key opened two boxes that had been sewn into Cochrane’s great coat. “The boxes contained money, letters of credit, gems, and instructions, the tools that Daventry would need to be successful in Russia.”

“Why did they send Daventry to Russia without those items?” Calvert asked.

“It was an idiotic decision,” Granger said, shaking his head at how stupid the government had been. “I knew that I had to get those boxes to Daventry, so I sent Valiant home, and returned to Arensburg in the ship in which I’d brought the food. When I got there, I found that the Russian Archipelago fleet was there, along with a Guards regiment. Fritz helped me get around them.”

“What was he like?” Calvert asked, referring to Fritz.

“He was a bit younger than me and very handsome,” Granger said, remembering the young Baltic German who had befriended him. “He was very brave, and he was clever but not brilliant.”

“So you fucked him?” Calvert asked. Watching him grapple with that was almost funny, so Granger smiled at him.

“I did,” Granger said, boldly daring Calvert to say anything in response. Calvert was smart enough to say nothing. “He helped me escape to Riga and helped me buy a vozok.”

“A what?” Calvert asked. Granger explained the luxurious vehicle he’d acquired, one with a stove inside. “It is almost like your cabin on Valiant,” Calvert noted, even as he chuckled.

“I certainly appreciated my stove on that voyage,” Granger said. He told Calvert of his trip to Mitau to see the French King, and promised Calvert he’d show him the jewels he’d acquired from the Duchesse d’Angoulême. He told Calvert of his trek to St. Petersburg, and how as soon as he’d arrived, Fritz had been sent to Moscow.

“That must have been hard on you, to have the man you had relied on wrenched away from you,” Calvert said sympathetically.

“It would have been worse, but when I got to the capital I reunited with Daventry, so I was not alone,” Granger said. He remembered Fritz’s leaving, and became sad, so sad his eyes got watery.

“What’s wrong?” Calvert asked, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Fritz was sent first to Moscow, then to Astrakhan,” Granger said. “While he was there, he contracted the fever and died.”

“I am sorry,” Calvert said, and hugged Granger tightly.

“It was not easy,” Granger said. “His sister told me.”

“His sister?” Calvert asked.

“The Countess von Lieven,” Granger said. “When I first met her, she was but a spoiled-rotten child, but I was able to help her find herself, and bloom into a charming woman. It was one of the more rewarding things I have done.”

“And I suppose you slept with her as well?” Calvert asked.

“I did,” Granger said. “Being with her was as satisfying as being with Caroline.”

“It must have been hard to leave her behind,” Calvert said, but it was more of a question.

“It was,” Granger acknowledged. He missed the charming Countess, but he did not long for her. “I was then introduced to Count Pavel Stroganov, and we became very close friends,” Granger said. “And yes, I slept with him.”

“What was he like?” Calvert asked, manfully trying to control his jealousy.

“He is smart, he is handsome, and he is a polished courtier,” Granger said. “His family all but adopted Daventry and me, and we stayed with them for most of our time in St. Petersburg.”

“Do you love him?” Calvert asked.

“I do,” Granger said, and saw Calvert get annoyed. “It is a different kind of love.”

“Explain that,” Calvert demanded.

“Fritz was a fun partner, but I loved him more as a friend,” Granger said. “With Pavel, those feelings were deeper, in that I would have done almost anything for him, and our lovemaking was very fulfilling. But in the end, my feelings for him were not strong enough to keep me in Russia, or to make me want to drag him back to England.”

“I see,” Calvert said, although Granger sensed that it would have been more accurate for him to tell Granger that he was trying to see. Granger went on and told Calvert about his meeting with the Empress of Russia. “You slept with Tsar Paul’s wife?”

“I did,” Granger said. “It was not something I wanted to do, but when Her Imperial Majesty points to you and says ‘fuck me,’ you have little choice.”

“I cannot see an alternative,” Calvert mused.

“I had sex with her on one occasion, but I had an opportunity to tell her that my reputation as a lover paled in comparison to Daventry,” Granger said, grinning.

“You set Daventry up to be her concubine?” Calvert asked, and laughed. “Did he appreciate that?”

“He claims he did not, but I think he did,” Granger said.

“Did you have any other lovers in Russia?” Calvert asked. Granger froze up then, and felt cornered. He thought out his answer carefully, hoping it would suffice.

“I had one more relationship, but I swore an oath that I would never reveal it to anyone,” Granger said, and looked into Calvert’s eyes so he could see Granger’s sincerity.

“I suppose you slept with the Tsar,” Calvert joked. Granger’s eyes shot open in horror, because if he had been cornered before, now he was trapped. He quickly corrected his facial reaction, but Calvert had seen it and it told Calvert all he needed to know. “Christ, you slept with the Tsar.”

“I want to tell you about this,” Granger said, “but I must first have your pledge that you will say nothing of this to anyone, ever.”

Calvert got annoyed that Granger would insist on such a pledge when Granger should have known him well enough to trust him, but he realized what a big deal this was, so he relented. “I will pledge to keep my knowledge of your sizzling affair with the Tsar a secret.”

“Thank you,” Granger said, then kissed him.

“Wasn’t the Tsar insane?” Calvert asked. Granger stared at him wondering what he was talking about, then he realized that Calvert thought he had slept with Paul. That was revolting and funny at the same time.

“Not that Tsar, you idiot,” Granger said, rolling his eyes, while Calvert giggled to show he’d been teasing Granger. He told Calvert about his affair with Alexander, from the first night they’d fucked to the last night they’d had together.

“I can only imagine what it must be like to be with someone so powerful,” Calvert said. He had mistaken Granger’s love for the Tsar as Granger’s being awestruck, when in fact that love was quite real.

“I think that for him I was an interesting plaything, someone who at that moment could help him, who could be a friend and a lover,” Granger said.

“But it was more serious for you?” Calvert asked.

“Alexander was to me what Gatling was to you,” Granger said. Memories of their past lovers made them sad, and Granger was worried that they would end up lashing out at each other, but Calvert prevented that with his gentle approach.

“That must have been very hard on you, to leave Russia,” he said sympathetically. Granger smiled, then his lip quivered, as he realized how much he loved this man who would let his love for Granger overcome the jealousy that lived inside him.

“It was awful,” Granger said. He told Calvert of leaving Russia and meeting up with Lord Nelson. “I think Nelson gave me command of the Calliope just to see if it would pull me out of my doldrums.”

“I am willing to wager that it did,” Calvert said, smiling at his fellow captain.

“It helped considerably,” Granger said. He was smiling, feeling so much better now that he’d bared his soul to Calvert, but then he became worried because Calvert did not smile, and in fact he frowned. “What is wrong?”

“It is nothing,” Calvert said dismissively.

“I was worried this conversation would upset you,” Granger said.

“It is not this conversation that upset me,” Calvert snapped. Granger raised his eyebrow in surprise but managed to keep his temper under control. He recognized that something was bothering Calvert deeply.

“Then what upset you?” Granger asked, and gently ran his fingers through Calvert’s hair, getting a small grin in return.

“Gatling and I were having issues when he died,” Calvert said.

“Issues?” Granger asked gently.

Calvert nodded. “You once told me that Rodney Roberts thought Gatling was very possessive and jealous.”

“I did not think that was a problem for you?” Granger asked. Calvert had largely dismissed Rodney’s concerns.

“It became one,” Calvert said. “I have analyzed the last months of our relationship before his death. I have been plagued by guilt. Guilt for making him feel that I did not love him, and guilt because I am not sure that I did.”

“There is no one more able to torture you than yourself,” Granger said to him lovingly. “What happened?”

“In March of last year, there was some reshuffling of officers in the fleet, and I received a new lieutenant,” Calvert said. “Richard Chalmers, a man from a naval family, had managed to get himself transferred to Cleopatre.” Granger felt himself tense up at the mention of that name, but opted to hear Calvert’s story before he became truly alarmed.

“And you were unhappy about that?” Granger asked.

“I was, at first,” Calvert said. “I had hoped that I would be able to slot Gatling into the position of first lieutenant when these moves were made, but Chalmers was Gatling’s senior by three months.”

“I suspect that did not endear Mr. Chalmers to Mr. Gatling,” Granger mused.

“It did not,” Calvert replied. “At first, I let some of Gatling’s annoyance influence me, and I kept Chalmers at a distance.”

“A distance?” Granger asked.

“I did not spend individual time with him, like asking him to dine alone with me,” Calvert said. “I also did not share my thoughts as fully as I had with my previous executive officers.”

“Did Mr. Chalmers resent that?” Granger asked.

“He did not, or at least he did not seem to,” Calvert said. “Gatling treated him correctly, nothing more, and I suspect that I did as well. Chalmers was not to be daunted. He went out of his way to show me respect and proved himself to be a very effective officer.”

Granger smiled. “He caught your attention by doing his job well.”

“He did,” Calvert confirmed, smiling grimly. “I was having dinner with Gatling one day, and he was complaining about Chalmers, when I had an epiphany. I realized that Chalmers was conducting himself perfectly, while Gatling and I were not. I shared the results of my musing with Gatling, and that started the rift between us.”

“Francis,” Granger said, to get his attention. “You are a superb captain. When I was forced to give up command of Valiant, as distressing as that was for me, I never worried about my ship, my officers, or my men. I told Daventry there was no one I would trust more in that role than you, and I meant it.”

“Thank you, George,” Calvert said to him. “That is especially meaningful since you were most vexed at me when that happened.”

Granger laughed. “It was not an easy time, but we managed to work things out.”

“We did,” Calvert said. They kissed, a loving but not passionate embrace, and that served to focus Calvert back on his tale. “I did what I should have done in the first place. I invited Chalmers to dine with me. I spent time with him, often in the evenings, each of us sharing our stories of the sea.”

“I suspect that did not go over well with Gatling?” Granger asked.

“It did not,” Calvert said. “He became difficult and petulant.”

“That must have been very hard on you,” Granger said, visualizing how conflicted Calvert would be.

“It was not easy, but at the same time, I knew that I was doing the right thing for my ship,” Calvert said. “It seemed that the more distant Gatling became, the closer I got to Chalmers.”

“How close did you get to Chalmers?” Granger asked, worried that Calvert had started a relationship with him. If he had, Granger would have had some sympathy for Gatling.

Calvert gave him a dour look. “Chalmers is very handsome and charming, but more than that, I found him interesting.”

“If you were not violating your relationship with someone else, then why was Gatling jealous, and why are you feeling so guilty?” Granger asked.

“Gatling was not jealous because I was sexually involved with Chalmers, he was mad because we became good friends,” Calvert said. “Chalmers and I flirted mildly with one another, and he gave off very strong hints that luring him into my bed may be possible, but I would not, I could not go there.”

“I think that it is possible for you to lure anyone into your bed,” Granger said.

Calvert smiled at him, grateful that Granger was being so supportive. “Gatling became vexed with me to the point that he broke off relations with me.”

“That must have been a challenge with your raging libido,” Granger teased.

“Surprisingly enough, that was not a problem,” Calvert said. “I was worried that the severance of my sexual relationship with Gatling would drive me into Chalmers’ arms, so to speak, but it did not have that effect.”

“That is because you are maturing, both as a man and as an officer,” Granger said, and saw that his statement had inadvertently irritated Calvert. “I did not mean to offend you. I have found that to be the case with my own behavior as well.”

Calvert smiled ruefully. “As a man, my libido does not rage as it used to unless I am around you.” Granger gave him a loving kiss for that comment. “And I can see your point, because as a captain, I have learned to keep more distance from my officers.”

“I was thinking that if I had assumed command of this ship three or four years ago, I would probably have looked at Austen and Bligh with an eye to seeing if I could seduce them,” Granger said, perhaps exaggerating that statement. “Now I really have no desire to do that.”

“You would eschew a liaison with one of your officers?” Calvert asked.

“I think it is not a good idea to make a pledge like that, but I believe that is likely the case,” Granger said. “It complicates things, not only personally, but with the operations of the ship.”

“That happened with Gatling,” Calvert said. “The fact that he was angry at me and Chalmers was noticeable to the men, but probably not as obvious to them as it was to the officers.”

“That was probably very awkward for you,” Granger noted. “It was probably also very dangerous.”

“I do not think it was dangerous,” Calvert objected.

“I would think that if your officers and crew had witnessed you and Gatling during happy times, and then you were clearly at odds, that would raise suspicions that your relationship was not entirely professional,” Granger said. “Moreover, at the same time you and Gatling appeared to be estranged, you were spending more time with Chalmers.”

“I seriously doubt that they concluded from that string of events that I was sodomizing Gatling and Chalmers,” Calvert said, irritated.

“You are not starting out with a clean slate,” Granger responded, in a tone that was just as terse as Calvert’s. “There are already suspicions about you. That predisposes people to allow their minds to imagine such a scenario.”

“Look George, I know that to you appearances are everything,” Calvert snapped. “I’m sorry if I don’t do as good of a job at that as you do.”

“Appearances should be everything to you as well,” Granger replied angrily. “Otherwise, you will find yourself ashore.”

Calvert sighed, and they said nothing for a minute. “I am sorry I lashed out at you when you were only being supportive and watching out for me.”

“It is alright,” Granger said lovingly. “I know that this is not easy for you, but I will not mince my words when they are important.” Calvert nodded.

“When we battled the Rhône, I was on the quarterdeck with Chalmers while Gatling was supervising the guns on the main deck,” Calvert said.

“That is the proper disposition of lieutenants,” Granger said with a playful air, to try and ease Calvert’s mood, but it did not work.

“They brought word to me that Gatling had been wounded, and in the past, I would have given Chalmers the deck and gone below to check on him,” Calvert said. “I did not do that.”

“What was happening when you heard that news?” Granger asked.

“We were exchanging broadsides with the Rhône,” Calvert said.

“Then your place was on the quarterdeck, and it would have been an egregious act for you to have abandoned it,” Granger said. “Your men, and your ship, were relying on you.”

“I know that,” Calvert snapped.

“Do not get mad at me for observing that you did the right thing,” Granger said.

Calvert smiled and shook his head. “It is so rare that I am right when I talk to you; it is almost inconceivable.”

“And that is not true at all,” Granger said, mildly annoyed.

“I was wounded during the final moments of the battle. They wanted to take me below but I refused, and instead had my arm bandaged up,” Calvert said.

“Because you are a true warrior,” Granger said affectionately, and got a smile from him.

Rhône struck her colors, but before we could take possession of her that damned French corvette arrived. Our rigging was shredded, so we had no way to battle a ship with no damage,” Calvert said. Rhône re-hoisted her colors and made off, while the corvette stood off in a threatening way.”

“It was an amazing achievement, forcing a ship as renowned as Rhône to strike her colors,” Granger noted.

“It would have been better if I could have seized her as a prize,” Calvert grumbled. “Chalmers finally persuaded me to go below. When I got to the orlop, I found Gatling lying on a cot in the corner. A large splinter had pierced his chest. The surgeon told me there was no hope for him, although that was obvious to anyone.”

“That must have been horrible, to witness such a thing,” Granger said. “In what is perhaps a true irony, Travers was also killed by a huge splinter, albeit one that was lodged in his stomach.”

“And you were able to exchange words with him,” Calvert said.

“I was,” Granger said. “I told him that I loved him, that he was brave, and I promised him that I would look after his ship.”

“When I sat next to Gatling to comfort him, he told me that I had hurt him worse than the splinter that pierced his heart, and bid me to remove myself from his presence,” Calvert said. It was impossible for him to stop the tears from flowing out of his eyes.

“That was very petty, and very unfortunate,” Granger said. “I think that you must consider that if he were not in so much pain, and had had a chance to think about things, he would not have said that.”

“I disagree, George,” Calvert said. “I think he would have said that no matter what. He was dying, and with his last breaths he was able to wound me badly.”

“You must not allow such vengefulness to devastate you,” Granger warned. “You did much for him and guided his career along. You were his mentor and his lover. It was his own jealousy and possessiveness that ultimately led to your separation.”

“I have tried to put myself in his position, to ponder how I would have reacted,” Calvert said. “I am curious as to how you would have handled it?”

“I am not sure,” Granger mused.

“Would you like to hear my opinion on how you would have dealt with that?” Calvert asked.

“Most definitely,” Granger said, anxious to hear what Calvert thought his reaction would have been.

“I think that when I started spending time with Chalmers, you would have been deeply hurt, but no one, with the exception of Winkler, would have known of it. You would have treated everyone correctly and ensured that there was no visible evidence of any rift,” Calvert said.

“I would hope I could live up to your estimation,” Granger said. “I think that I would have done that, but I suspect I would also have explained to you in private how unhappy I was with how you were treating me, but without my normal restraints.”

“You would have ranted at me and told me what a blackguard snake I was,” Calvert said, laughing. Granger laughed with him for a few minutes then their laughter abated.

“I would have,” Granger said. “But when you came to see me as I was dying in the sick bay, I would have told you that I loved you, that I had always loved you, and that I would go to my grave with your name emblazoned across my heart.”

Calvert shed another tear, then leaned in and hugged Granger tightly, an embrace Granger fully returned. “I feel the same way about you. That is why, when I spent the night with you after I first took command of Valiant, I told you that you were the most important person in the world to me, and that is why you still are.”

 

Copyright © 2023 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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On 3/26/2024 at 11:00 AM, Mark Arbour said:

I’ve written dark (think 1968), but I don’t think this is like that.  I thought it was a bonding purge. 

Yes, definitely a bonding purge. However, I wonder how our two gentlemen {remembering that there are already rumours of Calvert preferring men} will fair if Granger is required to leave the ship, as he is eventually expected to do when her rightful Captain returns, and then returns to London? Will Calvert follow him, I wonder? And will then the tongues begin to wag as we all know just how those of the Court care so little about reputations. Thin ice ahead for the pair m'thinks.

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