HMS Belvidera - 17. Chapter 17

November, 1795

Granger sat at his table, reviewing all the arrangements they'd made, trying to balance the housing needs of a Commander-in-Chief and his staff with the need to keep Belvidera in perfect fighting order. There was no way to achieve both, so they'd come up with some compromises. Most of the officers would have to double-bunk, with the exception of Granger and Captain Grey, Jervis' Flag Captain. He'd carved out a small cabin for himself from what was normally his chartroom, and he'd kicked Roberts out of his cabin and given that one to Grey. Roberts would share with Merrick. Granger hoped they'd be quiet.

Winkler came in, looking somewhat frantic. “Sir, we've moved your things into the chart room,” he said. “It's a bit crowded.”

“It seems the last time we sailed, there was a problem with rats in the chartroom. Large moaning ones,” Granger said, teasing Winkler mercilessly. He'd come aboard in a foul mood, but being back in his element, on his ship, had significantly changed his demeanor.

“We've gotten rid of them, but they weren't happy about it, sir,” Winkler said gamely, even as he blushed. “Do you think you'll be dining in here with Sir John?”

“I guess that depends on what Sir John wants,” Granger said realistically. “He is the Commander-In-Chief. If he doesn't, I will take my meals in the Wardroom.” After that, Winkler left him in peace. He noticed, as he reviewed his reports, that the motion of the ship had increased. A glance out the stern windows showed a storm blowing through. The anchorage at Spithead was sheltered enough to eliminate the large waves one would find out in the Atlantic, but those were replaced by more frequent, smaller waves. They made for a jerky, erratic motion, one that would test the stomachs of the men who weren't used to it.

He walked up on deck and found himself blasted by wind and rain. He pulled his tarpaulin over his uniform and peered at the binnacle, trying to divine whether this gale would continue, or blow itself out. The watch in harbor was delegated to petty officers, and it so happened that at this hour, it was Cavendish's shift.

Granger saw Cavendish look over at him and smile weakly, then look away. He suddenly felt guilty for treating the young man so callously. Cavendish had probably been looking forward to spending time with Granger, to sharing all of his experiences in London, and all he'd encountered was a curt and moody person. Granger tried to rationalize his actions, clinging to the excuse that he was stressed with the upcoming arrival of his admiral, that he was unsettled with his initiation into the Brotherhood, that he was confused by his relationship with Phillip Kerry, and that he was disturbed by the rape of John Travers. None of these events was reason enough to stamp on the heart of a young man who had fallen for him, and who gave him such devotion and pleasure.

“Mr. Cavendish!” Granger called.

“Sir?” he asked promptly.

“What is the status of the anchor?”

“Mr. Roberts attached the launch's carronade to the main anchor, and we have the bower anchor ready to let out if that should slip, sir,” he said efficiently.

“Excellent,” Granger said. “When do you get off watch?”

“In an hour,” he said, smiling now.

“I would appreciate the opportunity to spend some time with you,” Granger said.

“Should I bring my violin, sir?” Cavendish asked.

“You can, but you won't be playing it,” Granger said with a sexy leer. Cavendish gave him a big grin.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger went back to his cabin, where Winkler helped him dry off. He told Winkler he'd have company for supper, and then he headed down to the Wardroom.

He knocked on the door then entered with a humble posture. The Wardroom was the one place on board where the Captain was considered a mere guest, and his presence here would be resented unless it was solicited. He saw that the long table was crowded as his officers sat around the table, drinking and just enjoying this last chance they'd probably have to relax.

“Sir!” Roberts said as soon as he saw him, and stood up. The others turned to see him and stood as well.

“Please gentlemen, be seated as you were. I hope I am not intruding?” Granger asked.

“Of course not, sir,” Roberts said. They got him a seat and poured him a glass of ale, rather good ale, as a matter of fact.

“I have come to intrude upon your hospitality with a request to be allowed to intrude upon it even more,” Granger said.

“Your presence here is never an intrusion, sir,” Roberts said. Granger hit them with his full-powered smile, turning on the charm.

“Thank you for making me feel so welcome,” Granger said. “When Sir John is on board, it is my intention to take my meals with him, and I assume that Captain Grey will do the same. Sir John may not be amenable to these plans.” That got a chuckle from them. “I am hoping that if we are evicted from my cabin, you would be willing to offer me and Captain Grey the hospitality of the Wardroom.”

“It would be our pleasure, sir,” Roberts said. He looked to the others, who nodded approvingly. “Begging your pardon, sir, but why is Sir John coming aboard?”

“He is most anxious to take up his new command, and is unwilling to wait for the admiralty to conjure up a suitable flagship. I suspect he would have sailed out in the Boyne again, but for her terrible accident,” Granger said. The second rate ship of the line, barely five years old, had accidentally caught fire right here in Spithead in May of this year. Her charred remains could still be seen: a warning to other ships of the dangers of fire. The others nodded somberly.

“Sir John has a reputation for tackling a task without delay, sir,” Merrick said, smiling.

“Indeed he does, Mr. Merrick. He is also known for demanding clean and fit crews, and for being a strict disciplinarian. I am confident that Belvidera will measure up to his standards, but we must be vigilant.” Granger finished his ale and thanked them, then headed up to his cabin to wait for Cavendish.

About ten minutes after he got off watch, Cavendish appeared in his cabin. He'd taken the time to dry off, Granger noted. Granger eyed him up and down, taking in his handsome, lissome body and his long, handsome face. He felt the lust surging within him. “Good evening, Mr. Cavendish,” Granger said. “I hope you will do me the honor of joining me for supper?”

“With pleasure, sir,” he said.

“Let's get out of the way so they can get organized,” Granger said, leading the young man into his sleeping cabin. As soon as they were through the door he pulled Cavendish to him roughly, assaulting him with his mouth. Cavendish was shocked, but only for a second, and then he returned Granger's advances just as vigorously.

Granger pulled Cavendish's trousers down, releasing his big dick, and pushed him back on the cot. Then he knelt between his legs, moving his mouth and nose up Cavendish's thighs to his balls. Granger smelled his scent, letting it fuel his desire, then he began to lick them, each ball, before moving up to his big cock. He took Cavendish into his mouth and heard him gasp with pleasure. Granger worked his cock while he kept his hands on Cavendish's testicles. When they began to rise, Granger backed off. When they relaxed, he continued. He kept Cavendish on edge for what seemed like hours, and then finally brought him off. Granger felt Cavendish's cock expand in his mouth, and then tasted that familiar sweet yet salty flavor as he blasted a massive load down Granger's throat.

Cavendish collapsed back on to the cot, while Granger gently stroked his abdomen and his legs, letting Cavendish feel his fingers caressing him while he enjoyed the afterglow. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Will you make love to me?”

Granger moved his fingers to Cavendish's amazing ass, to his almost hairless crack. Cavendish just lay back on the cot and moaned gently. His cock wasn't hard; he'd just cum, so Granger knew this wasn't about the joy of getting fucked. Cavendish wanted Granger to show him that he loved him, that he cared, and that's what this was about. Granger moved up and lay on top of him, kissing him, not like the first time, not in an animalistic way, but in a gentle, loving way. He kissed him for a minute or so, and then pulled away from him to look into his beautiful eyes, and then he kissed him again. He pulled Cavendish onto his side and maintained their gentle kisses while he ran his hand gently up and down the young man's crack, taking time to play with his hole, to run his fingers around the edges.

Cavendish recovered quickly, his cock hardening with the stimulation Granger inflicted upon his body. He spun around, his back to Granger, offering – no, begging Granger to enter him. Granger took the lanolin and slathered it on his cock generously, then moved up and pushed into Cavendish's tight hole. He meant to go slow, but Cavendish was having none of that. As soon as he felt Granger's head pressing against his hole, he pushed his ass back, absorbing Granger's cock inside him.

Granger began fucking him, reveling in the feel of Cavendish's tight ass wrapped around his cock, happy to be bonded with this young man who had come to mean so much to him. Cavendish moved, adjusting himself, so he was on his back while Granger was on his side, still fucking him, only in this position they could maintain that surreal bond. Granger kissed him, then pulled away to gaze at him, just as he'd done before.

“Is it wrong to want you so much?” Cavendish managed to ask him while he was panting.

“No, I think it is wonderful. I want you too,” Granger said. “I want you so badly.”

Cavendish let out a little shriek and without any direct stimulation; his cock erupted again, blasting his load all over his chest. The feel of his spasms, the sight of his joy, brought Granger to orgasm as Cavendish ended his own. Granger rode the same wave, feeling his body writhe with an ecstasy he hadn't felt with Arthur, or Phillip, or anyone except maybe Caroline. He let himself enjoy the time afterward, when they lay there, saying nothing, just enjoying the contact, until he smelled food. “Come along, time to feed you,” Granger teased.

“Just me?” Cavendish asked cutely. They headed out and found a nice supper waiting for them. Winkler served the meal, and then vanished, leaving them alone. “I was worried you were mad at me,” Cavendish said.

“You must realize that there are many stresses on a Captain,” Granger said. “I am not always in a good mood. But that does not change the way I feel about you.”

“I understand,” he said. “I guess I was just thinking of myself.”

“You were excited to tell me all about your time in London, and I was bad company,” Granger said. Cavendish smiled back at him, melting Granger's heart as surely as the summer sun would melt ice.

“I was. My father told me that Admiral Wilcox has changed his story several times, so much so that his credibility has all but been destroyed. He told me to tell you that the only threat to your reputation will be capturing Precieuse.”

“That is much as I expected,” Granger said. “Did he explain why?”

“Probably the same reasons that you determined yourself,” he said. “The knowledge of what you discovered in Madeira cannot be public, so it makes you look as if you were simply grasping for more wealth. He said that they are working to keep the press from making an issue out of it, but where the press is involved, there is never any certainty.”

“That much is true,” Granger said. “I will simply focus on the task ahead, and hope that ultimately the story will come out and I will be vindicated.” They looked at each other, gazed into each other's eyes, and began to devour their food as quickly as possible, so they could retire to bed and devour each other yet again.

Granger led Cavendish back to his cabin, where they completely disrobed this time. Granger watched Cavendish undress, appreciating how sexy his young body looked in the dim light of his cabin. Then they coupled again, and it was almost a spiritual experience. They ended up on their sides facing each other, panting and grinning at each other.

“Do you have other lovers?” Cavendish asked, a propos of nothing. Then he looked really flustered. “I'm sorry; I shouldn't have asked you that.”

“Yes, you should have,” Granger said. “You mean in addition to my wife?” he teased.

“Yes, in addition to her,” he said, a smile of relief on his face.

“I do,” Granger said. “But that does not make my time with you any less special.”

“I know that makes sense, but you are so important to me,” he said. “No one makes me feel the way you do.”

“I understand how you feel, where you are,” Granger said. “I have been there myself. What you will learn, what you must learn, is that in the Navy, relationships are intense but easily broken.”

“I don't want our relationship to be broken,” he said, horrified.

“What if you are transferred tomorrow?” Granger asked. “You will be at some point; you must do your duty. What then?”

“Then I would go,” he said resignedly.

“And do you really want to be celibate? Do you really want to have no one else in your life? We could be separated for years, and you are too horny for that,” Granger said.

Cavendish giggled. “I see your point.”

“Enjoy what you have, what we have, but know that there are others out there who can make you feel just as good. I cannot make a commitment to be faithful to you, and I would be upset if you tried to make one to me,” Granger said.

“Now that you've explained it to me, I feel so young and so immature,” he said, irritated with himself.

“I have been where you are so I know what is ahead. You're not immature, you're inexperienced. I'm just trying to guide you where I can. It would devastate me if I ended up causing you pain,” Granger said honestly.

“I understand,” he said, then got his playful smile. “So who else on the ship should I fuck?” Granger laughed at that.

“I daresay you could have your pick,” Granger said. “Why not start with Sir John?” They both laughed at that. Then their gaze got serious again.

“I only want you,” Cavendish said. “I'm not asking you to be exclusively with me, I'm just telling you how I feel.”

“Show me,” Granger said, and turned around to welcome Cavendish's massive cock inside his body. As Cavendish worked in and out of him, nibbling on his ear while he did, Granger's mind drifted off, off beyond the feeling of their fuck. He found that being with Cavendish made him feel so much better, so much more complete, than any of the men he'd been with in London. He rolled his eyes back and could feel the love Cavendish put into every stroke, every minute of their time.

Granger pulled away from him and sensed the young man's distress. He lay on his back and pulled Cavendish on top of him. Their lips met, an intense spark flew between them, while Granger reached down and lined Cavendish's big cock up to his hole. Cavendish pushed in, not all the way, but far enough, and began to fuck Granger in his favorite position, the position Granger had mastered with Calvert. Granger put his heels on Cavendish's tight little ass cheeks and pushed on them, helping to set the rhythm. He looked up and gazed into Cavendish's eyes, feeling their mutual joy as they worked their bodies together, in perfect sync. Granger felt Cavendish's abdomen grinding against his cock as he thrust in and out of him, and knew that he wasn't going to be able to last much longer. Cavendish's eyes told him the same thing, told him that he was close too, and then it was as if their minds linked, totally bonded by their laboring bodies and their intense eye contact. When Granger came, it was perfectly timed with Cavendish, and it was so intense he almost blacked out.

Cavendish collapsed on top of Granger, panting frantically, trying to catch his breath. Granger felt his big cock slide out of his ass, replaced by the feeling of this remarkable young man sprawled across his body. He looked up at Granger, his expression one of sincerity.

“I love you,” he said. Then he got nervous, and began to almost panic. He looked down and buried his head in Granger's chest.

Granger put his hand under the young man's chin and pulled it up gently, forcing their eyes to meet. “I love you too,” Granger said, and found that he meant it. “But you cannot love only me.”

“I can for right now,” Cavendish said, with his cheeky grin.

Granger stood rigidly on the quarterdeck with his officers next to him and the marines behind him. The ship's company was assembled before the mast, looking smart in their Sunday best. Granger looked around at the deck, making sure the gunner was ready, and that Lennox and his team were ready as well. Granger's eyes were fixed at the entry port, and as soon as the old admiral's head appeared, the bosun's whistles shrilled and the marines snapped crisply to attention.

Jervis' foot landed on the deck and Granger gave an almost imperceptible nod, a signal for the first of 17 guns to fire and for the admiral's flag to soar up the mainmast. As of this moment, Belvidera was the flagship of Sir John Jervis, Commander-In-Chief of the Mediterranean fleet. Granger stepped forward to greet the admiral.

“Welcome aboard, Sir John,” he said formally. “May I present my officers?”

“You may,” he said gruffly. Granger introduced them, one by one, and noticed his eyes narrow when he met Lennox, Cavendish, and Brookstone. He was notoriously hard on aristocrats in the Navy, part of his prejudice against preferment. The whistles blew as Captain Grey came aboard, followed by the rest of the admiral's staff.

“If you will follow me below, sir, I will show you to your cabin,” Granger said politely. He led the way, guiding his new lord and master back to his own sumptuous cabin. He led Jervis in, followed by Captain Grey. “I must apologize for the small quarters sir.”

“I am familiar with the great cabin of a frigate,” he snarled. “Although yours certainly is quite fancy.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger said, forcing a smile. “I endeavored to make it tasteful and comfortable.” He turned to Grey. “Sir, my first lieutenant has vacated his cabin for you. I hope it will serve.”

“Most thoughtful of him,” Grey said politely.

“If you have no objection, Sir John, I was hoping that Captain Grey and I could impose upon you to dine here,” Granger said politely.

“I have no problem with that,” he said.

“If you would like to dine alone, sir, the Wardroom has extended an invitation to us as well,” Granger added.

“You mean if I tire of your company?” Sir John asked.

“I wasn't worried so much about my company, as Captain Grey's, sir,” Granger said as he winked at Grey, teasing them both. Jervis tried not to smile, and Grey tried not to chuckle.

“Are you ready to sail?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Granger said. “We have only to bring your personal effects aboard and we can sail.”

“Can Belvidera sail this close to the wind?” he asked curiously. The wind was almost dead foul, but with some careful maneuvering, she could clear Spithead.

“Yes, sir, providing it does not back any further,” Granger said.

“Then let's get going. I want to be in Corsica as fast as possible,” Jervis said.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said crisply. He left Grey to deal with Jervis and went up to get Belvidera under way.

“Mr. Roberts, I'll have the anchor hove short,” he ordered. “Mr. Merrick, look lively with those stores!”

“Aye aye sir,” they said. Roberts turned to implement his orders, only to turn back to Granger to receive more.

“Send up the topmasts,” Granger said. More orders, more men, lugging the topmasts up and securing them in place, then rigging the yards that went perpendicular to them.

“Anchor's hove short, sir!” shouted Carslake. Granger stood, sensing the wind, gauging it and deciding what would give Belvidera the best forward progress.

“Set the foretopsail with one reef, and the main with two,” Granger ordered. Men scrambled back up the mast and loosed the sails. Now Belvidera strained against her anchor, while the men below strained to pull it up, no mean feat with the carronade attached to it. Suddenly he felt Belvidera moving, backward, as the anchor left the bottom of the sea bed.

“Anchor's aweigh!” yelled Carslake unnecessarily.

“Trim those braces, Mr. Roberts. Lay us on the larboard tack,” Granger ordered. Now Belvidera began moving forward, while the leeway pushed her to the larboard. They were lucky this time that the leeway was pushing them in the right direction, away from the Isle of Wight. The whole ship felt different now, now that she was freed from the land and left to manage on her own against the elements.

“Quite a bit of leeway on this course,” Granger heard Jervis say. He hadn't even seen him come up.

“Yes sir. We'll use that to take us to the east so we can weather the Isle of Wight, then we'll wear over onto the starboard tack,” Granger said. He saw Jervis watch the sails, watch the shore, taking into account all that Granger had told him.

“Quite so,” he said. “I will see you below for supper.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. He hoped they would be able to get onto the starboard tack and clear the Isle of Wight before the sun set, but it was not to be. They tacked the Belvidera smoothly and used the big lighthouse as their guide instead.

“Supper is ready, sir,” Winkler said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Very well,” Granger said. He went below and found that he was soaked from the spray. Winkler was ready for him, helping him to change quickly, so quickly it took almost no time at all.

“Welcome Granger,” Jervis said. Granger found it odd to be welcomed into his own cabin. “Captain Grey is annoyed with his small cabin.”

Granger looked to Grey, who looked positively horrified, until he realized that Jervis was giving him a bad time. “I'm sure we could rig something bigger up amongst the 18 pounders, sir, but I fear you'd find mornings most unpleasant,” Granger said. When they went to quarters in the morning, any temporary cabin would have to be swept away.

“My quarters are more than adequate,” Grey said. “Who will handle signals, sir?” he asked Jervis.

“Well we'll have to find someone. I can't believe that blithering idiot couldn't get himself to Portsmouth in time,” Jervis groused. “Remind me to tell Spencer to send him off to India or some other godforsaken part of the globe.” Jervis groused on and on about his former Flag Lieutenant who had seemingly been unable to meet up with his admiral in Portsmouth.

“Yes, sir,” Grey said. “But that still leaves us short a signal lieutenant.”

“I have an officer,” Granger said, intervening. “My signal midshipman has recently served with distinction as an acting-lieutenant. He's very good with signals. In fact, he is the best I've encountered,” Granger said.

“You trying to pawn your problems off on me, Granger?” Jervis snarled.

“No sir. He truly is a fine young officer, and I would be more than happy to retain him aboard here. But he is very diplomatic and tactful, and I thought those skills might be useful if he were to be on your staff, sir,” Granger said, being cheeky, and making Grey actually chuckle.

“You're an impertinent sod, Granger,” Jervis said.

“Yes sir,” Granger agreed.

“Summon this officer,” Jervis ordered.

“Now, sir?” Granger asked. They were in the middle of dinner.

“Unless he has some other pressing engagement?” Jervis asked. They passed the word for Lennox, who came in looking quite nervous, with wide-eyes and clenched hands.

“Sir John, this is Midshipman George Lennox,” Granger said. He looked at Lennox's cute blond hair and sharp young features and marveled yet again at what a handsome man he was.

“Have a seat, Mr. Lennox,” Jervis said. “I fancy we have enough food even for a growing young man.”

“Aye aye sir,” Lennox said. He sat at the table and helped himself to a plate of food.

“What's the signal for ‘engage the enemy more closely’?” Jervis suddenly asked Lennox.

“Numeral One and Numeral Six, sir,” Lennox said without hesitation.

“What's ‘tack in succession’?” he demanded.

“Number 83, sir,” Lennox said.

“‘General Chase’?” Jervis asked.

“Number 2, sir,” Lennox responded.

“‘Discontinue the Action’?” Jervis asked.

Lennox looked at Granger, and Granger winked at him, knowing what he wanted to say and giving him permission. “I'm afraid I don't know that one, sir,” Lennox said.

Jervis looked at him, then laughed, actually laughed. “That's the best damn answer I've heard.” He pulled himself up abruptly. “Effective immediately, you're on my staff. You'll be my signal lieutenant, acting until you can pass the damn test. Grey can give you your assignments.”

“Aye aye sir,” Lennox said, stunned. It was a plum position for any lieutenant, but for a man who had been a midshipman five minutes ago, it was an amazing step. “Thank you sir.”

“Allow me to be the first to congratulate you,” Granger said. He held up his glass. “To your continued success, Mr. Lennox.” They all drank except for Lennox.

After supper, Lennox went below with Grey to get his instructions and to get settled into the Wardroom. Granger went to bed and was almost asleep when he heard a soft knock. “Enter,” he said quietly so he didn't disturb Jervis. His sleeping cabin was on the other side of a very thin bulkhead.

Lennox came in shyly. “Am I bothering you sir?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Granger said, making room on his cot, the only place to sit in the small chartroom.

“I just wanted to thank you for my promotion, sir,” he said sincerely.

“You must thank Sir John,” Granger said, deflecting his gratitude.

“I know whom I owe it to, all the same, sir,” Lennox said. He put his fingers on Granger's bare chest and moved them down to Granger's trousers, which were now tenting with his erection. He pulled Granger's trousers down and before he knew it, Granger's hard cock was in Lennox's mouth. Lennox worked him energetically, put his all into this fantastic blow job, until he finally brought Granger off.

“Thank you. I will have to hope you get promoted more often,” Granger teased.

“I fear Freddie would be quite jealous if that happened,” he said. It took Granger a second to figure out he was referring to Cavendish. “He's really quite fond of you, sir.”

“And I am fond of him as well, Mr. Lennox,” Granger said uncomfortably. “But since we have already risked hurting his feelings, we might as well make it really worthwhile.” He pulled Lennox into the cot with him and let the young man fuck him. It was a good fuck, good because Lennox had learned to be a good lover and good because Granger genuinely liked Lennox, but it was nothing like sex with Cavendish. Granger realized that he had fallen quite hard for his handsome, brown-haired midshipman.