Peace of Amiens - 9. Chapter 9

September 4, 1801

Cowes, England

 

Granger had had a wonderful night with Calvert, followed by an equally wonderful breakfast, but his thoughts about Chalmers had plagued him. He did not want to cause tension between them, because he and Calvert had bonded now, and that meant they’d largely dealt with the irritations that had chafed as they’d reunited, but this was important. He frowned, and that got a concerned look from Calvert.

“Is something wrong?” Calvert asked, because he was sensitive to Granger’s feelings.

“I have a concern, but I am so enjoying our time together I do not want to ruin it,” Granger said. Calvert looked at him, all but demanding that Granger share what was bothering him. “Let’s go outside.”

He got up and led Calvert out to the front of the house, where they sat on a bench looking at the large reservoir. “It was a smart idea to enlarge this,” Calvert noted.

“I think so,” Granger said, then got more apprehensive. “I am worried about Mr. Chalmers.”

“You are worried that my affections for him are stronger than I have shared with you?” Calvert asked, flying off on a tangent as he did when he was upset. “I told you that despite his apparent interest, I did not sleep with him.”

“That is not what I am worried about,” Granger snapped, then calmed himself. “You once mentioned to me that I had a strong reputation for being an anti-sodomite.”

“I did,” Calvert responded much more calmly, now understanding that Granger’s concerns were along an entirely different line. “That was when you were responsible for having four men hanged off Toulon.” It annoyed Granger that Calvert decided to point that out, rather than focus on the substance of the case, but in this situation the hanging was the pertinent part.

“That is correct,” Granger said. “Some officers were torturing poor Mr. Shafte, who was Lord Hood’s flag-midshipman. I was able to catch them in the act. They had dragged Shafte down into the forward hold, tied him up, and were about to rape him. They were going to charge others to have a turn after they were done.”

“That was truly reprehensible,” Calvert said. He’d heard that story before, but remembering it brought back the sheer horror of it.

“Three of the men who were hanged as a result of the court martial were midshipmen: Cabot, Ferris, and Chalmers,” Granger said.

“Chalmers?” Calvert asked, now understanding Granger’s concern.

“Midshipman Chalmers was from a naval family, and while I am not certain, it is quite likely that Richard Chalmers, your lieutenant, was related to him,” Granger said.

“That does not mean that he had some sort of malfeasance planned,” Calvert objected, sticking up for his officer.

“You are aware that I, and my family, have furthered your career as much as we could,” Granger stated. Calvert looked at him, wondering why Granger had brought that up.

“I have appreciated all that you have done on my behalf,” Calvert said stiffly.

“Unfortunately, because you and I are known to be friends, and because your interests are clearly important to me, that means you are also saddled with my enemies,” Granger explained. He had learned over the years of arguing with Calvert that if he remained calm, he had a much better chance of getting through to him.

“I can see how that would be the case, but that has never bothered me, because an enemy of yours is an enemy of mine,” Calvert said, getting an appreciative smile from Granger. “I am just not sure what Mr. Chalmers could have been plotting. To all intents and purposes, he was an excellent first officer.”

“I cannot evaluate that; only you can,” Granger said. “I would ask you to ponder how he acted, and with this new knowledge, try to decide if his motives were entirely honorable.”

“What are you worried about?” Calvert all but demanded.

“He created a rift between you and Gatling, and it seemed that he was attempting to spark a similar romantic relationship with you,” Granger said.

“I do not think it is fair to fault him with causing my problems with Gatling,” Calvert said. In the past, Granger would have pursued the issue relentlessly until Calvert got his point. That usually involved heated tempers followed by a realization and apologies on both of their sides. He opted for a different approach.

“This is not something you have to contemplate immediately,” Granger said. “You can take your time to consider it. I just wanted to make you aware of my concerns.” Granger knew that Calvert would think this through on his own, but that if he forced him to consider things right now, he would just become more defensive, and ultimately become combative.

“Then I will do that,” Calvert said. Granger led him back up to his bedroom and they made love. After they were done, Granger sensed Calvert’s uneasiness, and knew that Calvert was starting to ponder his words. They spent a relaxing morning ashore, then returned to Endymion so Granger could make sure the ship was ready for St. Vincent. The afternoon was consumed mostly by inspections to make sure everything was perfect.

“I think we are ready for His Lordship, my lord,” Austen said, as dusk came upon them.

“I think so as well,” Granger said. “You are to be commended for how well you got the ship into top shape.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Austen said happily.

Granger led Calvert back to his cabin for supper. “I am surprised that you did not reconfigure it for St. Vincent,” Calvert noted as they sat at Granger’s dining room table.

“Assuming we sail tomorrow morning, we should be in Weymouth before nightfall,” Granger said. “If it appears we will take longer, we can quickly adapt. You and I may end up cramming into my chartroom.”

“Then I will pray for foul weather and an extended voyage,” Calvert said, smiling at Granger.

“I will hope for no such thing,” Granger said, getting a surprised look from Calvert. “Hosting St. Vincent is no easy task.”

“I would have thought the tradeoff would be worth it,” Calvert said in his sultriest voice, sending Granger’s libido soaring.

“Now that you mention it…” Granger said, grinning at him. He smiled for a bit and then got more somber. “I fear you will be hustled ashore after tomorrow.”

“I thought I had at least a few more days?” Calvert objected.

“You appear to be well enough to move ashore, and St. Vincent will certainly notice that,” Granger said. “It is inevitable that Princess Amelia will ask him about your health.”

“I don’t know how I ended up as the object of admiration of a Royal Princess,” Calvert grumbled, making Granger laugh.

“You have but to look in the mirror to answer that question,” Granger said. “I suspect that Daventry felt much like you do now when we were in Russia and he was servicing the Dowager Tsarina.”

“Yes, but he likes to have sex with women, and I do not,” Calvert said.

“We all must do things we do not want to do,” Granger said philosophically. “Besides, I am not convinced you will be compelled to have a carnal relationship with the Princess.”

“You are suggesting she does not want to bed me?” Calvert asked, pretending to be outraged, and making both of them laugh.

“I am quite sure she would enjoy that, but she is under the watchful eye of her mother, the Queen, who most definitely does not want you to deflower her daughter,” Granger noted.

“I had not counted on having to evade such a fearsome personage as the Queen to satisfy the Princess’s lust,” Calvert said, making them laugh even more. Granger loved times like these, when Calvert relaxed and let out his playful side.

“A prize worth having is rarely easy to acquire,” Granger noted.

“I am interested to see how you handle this when you must quest for a new female companion,” Calvert said, only there was a hint of jealousy in his otherwise jovial tone.

“I already have a plan for that,” Granger said.

“Indeed?” Calvert asked. “You must share this with me.”

“There is an opera singer that has become the star of the stage this past season,” Granger said. “Her name is Carmella Bellini. She is beautiful, with those attributes one normally finds in Italian women.”

“And what are these attributes?” Calvert asked.

“She has an olive complexion that gives her an exotic appearance, sparkling brown eyes, long luxurious black hair, and a very attractive figure,” Granger said, making Calvert laugh.

“So why are you going to pursue her?” Calvert asked.

“Because no one else has been able to sleep with her,” Granger said. “She has been the picture of propriety.”

“You are seeking a challenge?” Calvert asked, trying to figure out Granger’s plan.

“I am not so concerned whether I am successful or not; I will be content merely to have a woman as my obvious target of affection,” Granger said. “Even if I cannot turn her into my mistress, my efforts will be known to society.”

“That is very clever of you,” Calvert noted. “Perhaps my relationship with Princess Amelia will evolve along those same lines.”

“Perhaps,” Granger said. This was all speculation, but it was good to have a plan.

Calvert got considerably more somber. “I have thought about what you shared with me this morning.” Granger knew he was referring to Chalmers.

“And what have you decided?” Granger asked.

“I think it is possible that he was trying to lure me into a relationship with him,” Calvert said sadly. Granger could sense how upset this had made him and reached out to grab his right hand as a sign of support. “What I do not understand is how he could use that against me if he were involved with me.”

“He would not have to be involved with you; he would just have to allege that you had made the effort and he had resisted your advances,” Granger said. Calvert’s eyes shot open in horror.

“How do I combat such a lie?” Calvert asked. Granger opted not to ask him if it was actually a lie.

“How intimate were you with him?” Granger asked.

Calvert gave him a dirty look, then seemed to understand that Granger was not being judgmental. “The only thing that he could point to were suggestive looks and conversations.”

“That would seem insignificant to prove that you had unnatural intentions towards him, but this will not be laid out as a formal case; it will be an attack of innuendos,” Granger said.

“I worry that my reputation is so badly tarnished I will always be vulnerable to men like him,” Calvert said sadly. It was awful to see him so despondent.

“That is why you must ultimately have a relationship with a woman,” Granger said, cringing as he did. Calvert wasn’t the only one who got jealous.

“I know that you are right, but my feelings and desires are only focused on one person,” Calvert said, and gazed at Granger lovingly.

“I feel the same way,” Granger said.

“You do?” Calvert asked, surprised. “It seemed that you always needed multiple relationships to satisfy you.”

“That is not a fair statement,” Granger snapped angrily. “I think it is more accurate to say that I wanted the ability to have other lovers when you were not around.”

“You are saying that if you and I were living somewhere together, where our cohabitation was not scandalous, you would be happy just with me?” Calvert asked.

Granger fought back his desire to explain that such a situation was not likely to happen and just answered simply. “Yes.”

“Are you ready for bed?” Calvert asked lustfully.

“Most definitely,” Granger said.

September 5, 1801

HMS Endymion

Spithead, England

 

Granger paced the quarterdeck of his ship with Calvert, enjoying the warm weather and the clear skies. Calvert was wearing one of the new dress uniforms Granger had gotten him, and the tailoring had been perfected so it fit him quite well. The only mar was the sling that hung over Calvert’s shoulder to hold his wounded arm in place, yet even that made him look more attractive, cutting a figure as a wounded warrior. “You look very well turned out,” Granger said.

“That is all thanks to you,” Calvert said, making sure no one could see the loving expression he gave Granger. They were far enough from the other officers not to be overheard, but facial gestures could be seen, and those had meaning.

“If our situations were reversed, you would do the same for me,” Granger said confidently.

“I would do anything for you,” Calvert said. Granger smiled at him but did not respond, lest the others notice the affectionate gaze he would have given Calvert. “Do you know when St. Vincent is going to arrive?”

“I have no information other than my orders telling me to pick him up here today,” Granger said. “When he relinquished command of the Mediterranean Fleet and I was tasked with bringing him home, I found him flying his flag in a captured Spanish brig. There really is no way of predicting how and when he will appear.”

“For any other admiral, that would make him mysterious,” Calvert noted. “For St. Vincent, it is terrifying.”

Granger laughed. “I had an unpleasant conversation with him when I returned from the Baltic.” Granger explained how St. Vincent had questioned his honor, and how he had handled that.

“It is a shame that story is not more widely known,” Calvert said. “If it were, you would be known as the bravest man in the navy.”

“I am not already?” Granger joked, getting a chuckle from Calvert.

“I have so enjoyed our time together here, but it frustrates me that there are so many occasions when we are together that we argue instead,” Calvert mused.

“I have expended a lot of thought trying to determine why that is,” Granger said.

“I would be most interested to hear what you decided,” Calvert said a bit warily.

“Our conflicts reflect the passion of our relationship,” Granger said. “They are most intense when we have been parted. I think that is just our getting reacquainted with each other.”

They paced the length of the deck before Calvert responded. “That is a very astute observation.”

“I rather thought so,” Granger said playfully. “I have also noticed that we are not as volatile as we used to be.”

“I am really wondering why you think that is the case,” Calvert all but asked.

“I think it is because we have matured,” Granger said thoughtfully. “Ponder how different we both are from when we first met aboard Intrepid.”

“I do not think we have changed all that much,” Calvert objected. They arrived at the end of the deck where they were required to pivot, and Calvert briefly caught Granger’s steely stare, all but damning that statement. “I can see what you are saying. I am less impulsive than I used to be.”

“One of the ways I knew that I was hopelessly in love with you was how I was completely unable to control my emotions when you vexed me,” Granger said. Calvert snickered at that. “I have more control over myself now, such that I can absorb things that you say that annoy me and process them before lashing out at you.”

“I will choose to see that as a positive thing,” Calvert said.

“I think it is, because as I pause before reacting, I have a chance to gather my thoughts, and thus I usually win our arguments,” Granger said. Both he and Calvert laughed at that.

“It is unwise to lose an argument to a senior officer,” Calvert noted, as if to explain Granger’s victories.

“My lord, a boat is approaching,” the lookout called. “Appears to be the admiral.”

Granger hurried over to the side of the ship and gazed at the boat that was closing with them. It was a shore boat, which looked positively dowdy compared to what an admiral’s barge would look like, but there was no mistaking St. Vincent sitting in the stern, his back ramrod straight and his eyes staring at Endymion as if trying to discern any flaws. “Mr. Austen, I am assuming you have the salute and the bosun’s chair rigged?”

“Everything is ready, my lord,” Austen said patiently. He was probably annoyed that Granger had questioned him, while Granger was even more annoyed at himself for doing so. It just exposed how on edge he was when dealing with St. Vincent.

The boat hooked on and the bosun’s chair descended, while Granger and his officers stared straight ahead, as if the First Lord of the Admiralty were not about to be hoisted aboard. Granger watched as the chair rose and was gently placed on the deck, their cue to start the salute and to raise St. Vincent’s flag. Granger stepped forward to help the old admiral out of the chair. “Welcome aboard, sir,” he said pleasantly.

“Good to see you, Brentwood,” he grumbled, then spotted Calvert.

“Good morning, my lord,” Calvert said.

“I’ve been reading your reports, Calvert,” St. Vincent said. “Damn good work. How is your wound?”

“Dr. Jackson has nursed me almost back to health, my lord,” Calvert said pleasantly.

St. Vincent nodded. “Brentwood, I would be obliged if you would get this vessel underway and make haste to Weymouth.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Granger chimed. He focused on Endymion, setting the hands to raise the anchor and the topmen to setting the topsails, while St. Vincent and Calvert stood off to the side, chatting. It did not look like a pleasant conversation. St. Vincent always looked dour, but Calvert was considerably shaken. Within an hour, Endymion was cruising past St. Helens and into the channel. They were fortunate that the winds were from the northwest which made their exit from Portsmouth quite easy.

“I’ve heard many stories about this ship,” St. Vincent said, joining Granger at the rail.

“She is very fast, sir,” Granger said. “I will be sad to give her up to Durham. She is a racehorse.”

“Indeed?” St. Vincent asked.

Endymion was leaving port under her courses and topsails, but as soon as he wore ship to head down the Channel, Granger gave the order for the topgallants and royals. “A cast of the log, Mr. Austen.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen said. Granger focused on making sure her sails were perfectly trimmed, waiting for Austen’s results. “A bit over ten knots, my lord,” he said.

“Impressive,” St. Vincent said. He was smiling at how invigorating the ship was, then he frowned. “She is a beautiful ship, but she is too damned expensive. We don’t need fancy frigates like this.”

“I daresay there aren’t any French ships that can escape from her, sir,” Granger said cautiously.

“That’s as may be, but smaller frigates like those we used in the last war are more than adequate,” St. Vincent growled. “It is the officers and crews that make His Majesty’s navy successful, not large and expensive ships.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger agreed with a smile. “But the large and expensive ships certainly are exhilarating.”

St. Vincent rolled his eyes at Granger in frustration, but seemed to enjoy their speed, nonetheless. “My lord,” Winkler said, interrupting them. “Dinner is ready.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. “Mr. Austen, you have the ship. Please send the hands to dinner.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said. Granger led St. Vincent and Calvert down to his cabin.

St. Vincent had brought a lieutenant with him, and the man made to follow. “Mr. Bledsoe, it would please me if you would allow the officers to host you in the wardroom.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Bledsoe said automatically. While the wardroom was the sanctuary of Endymion’s officers, none of them were foolish enough to defy St. Vincent and not entertain Bledsoe. Granger looked at Calvert nervously, while Calvert tried not to look terrified.

Granger led them into his dining room and they all sat at his table. Winkler and his staff brought out the food, getting a smile from St. Vincent. Lefavre had made beef à la Stroganov, and after the first bite St. Vincent’s face lit up. “Your chef is incredible,” he said to Granger. “This is reason enough to detour to Portsmouth just to sail with you.”

Granger laughed. “I am glad we are able to offer you more than just my charming company.”

Dinner was a pleasant affair, as it was supposed to be, with St. Vincent regaling them with the gossip he’d picked up over the past few months. Only after dinner was finished and they were drinking port did he broach the topic that had been causing all the tension. “I explained to Captain Calvert that I had received a letter from Lieutenant Chalmers, accusing Calvert of some rather heinous crimes.”

“Indeed, sir?” Granger asked.

“He purported to know that Calvert was engaged in a romantic and sodomitic affair with the late Mr. Gatling, and that the officers and crew had commented that they’d acted much as if they were a man and woman who were courting,” St. Vincent said dourly. When Granger had voiced his concerns to Calvert, he had thought this was a risk, not something that was imminent, but he maintained his calm in the face of this storm.

“Did Mr. Chalmers provide any statements from these officers and men to corroborate his accusations, sir?” Granger asked.

St. Vincent frowned at him. “He did not.” St. Vincent took another sip of his port. “He also claimed that Captain Calvert and Mr. Gatling appeared to have had a fight and become estranged. He further alleges that after that Calvert made advances towards him.”

“That is a lie!” Calvert exclaimed. While both Granger and St. Vincent heard Calvert’s outburst, they largely ignored it. This battle was between the two of them.

“Sir, are you familiar with my actions off Toulon that resulted in the hanging of three midshipmen?” Granger asked.

“I am familiar with that episode,” he growled.

“One of the men who swung was a Mr. Chalmers, a most obnoxious midshipman from a naval family, sir,” Granger said. “As Captain Calvert is my friend, one of my best friends in fact, he is vulnerable to my enemies. I am concerned that is what is happening here, that people are trying to harm him merely to avenge themselves upon me.”

“Do you have any proof of that?” St. Vincent demanded, smirking as he did.

“It would be reasonable to observe that I have as much proof as Mr. Chalmers does, sir,” Granger said. He got a truly evil look from St. Vincent for that comment.

“Regardless of your opinion of the strength of his case,” St. Vincent said snidely, “I have explained to Captain Calvert that such an accusation makes it difficult to appoint him to another ship.”

“Sir, it is patently unfair to allow unsubstantiated claims to negatively impact Captain Calvert’s career,” Granger said. “It is vital that you give him a forum to clear his name.”

“Do not attempt to dictate to me, Captain,” St. Vincent snarled.

“I apologize, sir,” Granger said, forcing himself to be polite. “As Captain George Granger in temporary command of this vessel, I will obey your orders to the utmost, but as the Earl of Brentwood, I will fight this matter with all of the resources available to me.”

“You are quite welcome to do whatever you want in that regard,” St. Vincent said.

“My respect for you, sir, is so deep that I did not want to take such a bold step without cautioning you in advance,” Granger said politely, causing St. Vincent considerable confusion as he dealt with this powerful aristocrat.

“And for that I am most appreciative,” St. Vincent said. “I am going back on deck to see if we are close to Weymouth.”

“May I have a word with you alone, sir?” Granger asked. St. Vincent glared at him.

“We will see you on the quarterdeck, Calvert,” St. Vincent said, dismissing him. They waited until Calvert left, then St. Vincent stared at Granger to indicate that he should speak his mind.

“Sir, I have never opposed you before, and it pains me to do that now, but you are leaving me no choice,” Granger said firmly.

“And why is that?” St. Vincent asked snidely.

“Because Captain Calvert is my friend, and I am honor-bound to defend him,” Granger said. “And because if you allow this to stand, these accusations may implicate me as well.”

“You lie down with dogs, Brentwood, and you arise with fleas,” St. Vincent said.

“I am stunned, sir, that you do not seem concerned about my reputation, and that you would sacrifice it over hearsay,” Granger said, barely controlling his temper. “My family and all my connections will not be so willing to discard me, and neither will the mob.”

“You think I should make my decisions based on what the mob thinks?” he demanded.

“No, sir, I think you should make your decisions based on the facts in front of you, and you are not doing that,” Granger said.

“I think I will go up on deck,” St. Vincent scowled, and rose.

“Do you think His Majesty will believe such rumors about me, sir?” Granger challenged, stopping him in his tracks.

“I do not know what His Majesty will believe,” St. Vincent said. “Thank you for the wonderful dinner.” It was as if the old admiral was desperate to escape from Granger.

“It was a pleasure to be able to host you, sir,” Granger said politely.

St. Vincent scowled at him but paused before leaving the cabin. “The members of Parliament who support you will be able to do little to intervene in Admiralty affairs. That is the proviso under which I assumed this role.”

“Those members of Parliament who are my friends will not intervene in Admiralty affairs, but they will ensure that this issue is aired in public, sir,” Granger responded. “When I told you that I respected you and did not want to cause you undue stress, it was to that I was referring.”

“What are you saying,” he demanded.

“I am saying that a public hearing that results in an embarrassing defeat would not be good for the Admiralty, sir,” Granger stated. It was a strange conversation, one that St. Vincent could interpret as Granger’s threatening him, or one where Granger was being a friendly advisor.

“I will ponder your words,” St. Vincent said.

“Thank you, sir,” Granger said. He escorted St. Vincent up to the quarterdeck and saw him over the side, glad to be rid of him.

Calvert stared at him stoically, but Granger could sense how upset he was. “Mr. Austen, I will be below,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen said. Granger led Calvert below, then guided him into his sleeping cabin.

“I am ruined,” Calvert said, and collapsed sobbing into Granger’s arms. Granger was almost in as much agony as Calvert was, seeing him in such pain. Calvert’s overt emotional demonstration would normally be something Granger would have a hard time tolerating, but in this case, it was understandable. He could think of few things worse than being threatened with never having a command again.

“You are not,” Granger replied. “I will make sure you are cleared of these allegations.”

“How will you do that?” Calvert asked.

“Let me worry about that,” Granger said, then grimaced. “It is time for you to deflower a princess.”

“I’m not sure I would even know what to do,” Calvert moaned. “I am certain to botch it up.”

Granger chuckled, which annoyed Calvert, who did not see the humor in this at all. “I will teach you how to pleasure a woman.”

“How will you do that?” Calvert said, perking up a bit.

“I will pretend to be the woman,” Granger said lustfully, making both of them chuckle. Then he did.