HMS Belvidera - 21. Chapter 21

December, 1795

Granger climbed up the side of Nelson’s little battleship. Agamemnon was a 64-gun ship-of-the-line, out of place in a navy where the standard for third rates was 74 guns. She was built in 1781 at a private dockyard, and like many ships built in private yards, the quality of her construction was questionable. She was only 14 years old, yet she was leaky, rotting, and constantly in need of a refit. Despite that, no one was a bigger champion of the Agamemnon than Nelson. Granger had sailed with Nelson in her and had admired her speed and handling, but it was her captain who had really impressed him.

Granger saluted the quarterdeck as he climbed aboard, and Nelson was there, effusively greeting him. “Granger! Gads, what a pleasure to see you out here. You must come below and tell me of all your adventures.”

“It is good to see you too, sir,” Granger said with a genuine smile, and followed him below to his cabin. “I’ve brought you some dispatches.”

“I will read them shortly. Tell me the news.”

“I brought Sir John Jervis out from England with me, sir,” Granger said. “He has already started to make some changes in the fleet.”

Nelson burst out laughing. “God help those captains when Jervis latches onto them. I suppose I am ordered to report to him immediately?”

“No sir,” Granger said. “Sir John will be off Toulon, and asked that you meet him when it is convenient, but no later than the end of January.”

“Indeed?” Nelson asked, surprised. Most commanders would have demanded his presence at once.

“I suspect he has enough on his plate right now without dealing with you too, sir,” Granger said, joking.

Nelson laughed again. “I suspect you’re right. Did he speak of me at all?” Now Nelson was showing himself, his insecurities, and in some it would have been annoying or crass, but from him it just seemed strategic.

“He did, sir. I gathered that he has a great deal of respect for you, and based on his assessment of most people, that is no easy feat.”

“Well that is good news. I certainly wasn’t Hotham’s favorite, especially after he botched that action off Corsica. He banished me here, and I couldn’t be happier. The fleet can be a confining and suffocating place,” Nelson said.

“I’m sure you’re right, sir. I was glad to be sent here as well. I am to stay here, under your orders, until you return to join Sir John,” Granger said.

“Now that is capital! I’m glad to have you here. How is your ship?”

“A dream, sir,” Granger said, grinning. Nelson smiled back at him, understanding a captain’s love for his ship, and understanding how fun it was to command a frigate. “She had some problems before I took command, but those are long forgotten, at least on board.”

“From what I hear, that is your doing,” Nelson said, giving Granger a nice compliment.

“Thank you, sir. I have had good examples in my career. Lord Hood told me when I accompanied you that you were one of the best captains in the fleet and that I should learn from you. I’ve tried to do that,” Granger said.

“Well look at you, Granger. You’ve become an excellent captain, and a perfect politician.” They both laughed at that. “The fleet as it stands now is a disgrace. I think Jervis will do wonders with it, if they let him.”

“I think the Admiralty is afraid of him and glad to have him far from England, sir,” Granger joked.

“That is most likely true. I hope they let him weed out some of his useless captains and admirals. He should start with Mann,” Nelson said with disdain.

“I am not Admiral Mann’s favorite person,” Granger confided. “He endeavored to have me posted to his squadron so he could make my life a living hell. Sir John had mercy on me.”

“You even pick the right enemies,” Nelson joked. “Join me for dinner.” And so Granger did, and he regaled Nelson with all the news and court gossip from England. At the end of dinner, Nelson laid out the strategic situation for Granger.

“This is a thankless place,” he said. “The Genoese are worried that the French will come in and seize their city in the spring when the campaigns start, yet their merchants trade with the enemy as if they were allies. If we capture a Genoese merchant, they claim to be neutral. We have to prove, then, that they are trading with the French. It is no way to fight a war.”

“How do we prove that, sir?” Granger asked.

Nelson smiled. “Well, if you capture them far enough from Genoa, just send them off to Corsica for processing and let the courts there figure it out. If you catch them in French waters, they are fair game. And of course the French know this, so any French merchant worth his salt will raise a Genoese flag as soon as you sight him.”

The intricacies of Italian politics were a wrinkle Granger hadn’t planned on. “That does sound like a tough way to fight a war, sir.”

“No one said it would be easy,” Nelson said. “I am needed here to deal with the Genoese. They are used to my presence, and I have a good rapport with them. When there are issues, I am able to smooth them over, and when we catch their merchants trading with the enemy, they usually trust my judgment.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “The best way to interdict the flow of supplies to France is to patrol the area between Genoa and Nice. I am sending you on a patrol to the west. You are to sail to Nice, then return. Your appearance alone should give those planning to violate their neutrality a reason to pause and think.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, standing up to leave. Nelson laughed.

“Anxious to get on with it?” he asked Granger.

“I am not alone in that, if I recall, sir,” Granger said with a grin.

“No you are not,” Nelson said. “Waste not an hour.” He escorted Granger to the side, and then Granger was on his way back to Belvidera. He was to be on his own, a patrol on his own: A frigate captain’s dream. He kept trying to hide the smile on his face, but he could not do it. It seemed to take forever to get back to Belvidera, but Granger knew that was only his own anticipation making it seem longer. He climbed the deck, saluted the quarterdeck, and jumped into action at once.

“Mr. Roberts, we will square away. Course due west, if you please,” Granger ordered. “We are to be on detached patrol for a few days, at least.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said, his grin just as big as Granger’s.

“Land ho!” came the cry from the masthead. Dawn had just broken, and Belvidera was prowling along the coast, looking for trade to interrupt, or other mischief to create. Granger took his glass and trained it on the lump of land that was barely visible on the horizon.

“That looks like Cape Mele,” he said to Roberts, who agreed with him, of course. “We’ll close with the shore then run parallel to the coast.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said.

“In the meantime, I think I will have breakfast. Would you care to join me?” Granger asked.

“Of course sir,” he said. Granger headed below to tell Winkler to make more food for them, and seated himself just as Roberts arrived. They sat at the table, enjoying the fresh eggs Andrews had managed to acquire for them at San Fiorenzo.

“I hope you bear me no malice for transferring Lieutenant Merrick,” Granger said. He’d been feeling guilty about that, because he knew how close they’d become.

“You made your decision for the good of the service, sir. Personal feelings shouldn’t factor into that at all,” Roberts said logically.

“Yet they do,” Granger said. “You are an excellent first lieutenant. I wanted you to understand that I didn’t mean any malice toward you, or Mr. Merrick.”

“Mr. Robey and I have become close,” he said, blushing slightly. “He explained things to me, at least from his perspective. I understand why you did it, sir. I think you made the right decision.”

“I see. So you bear me no ill will because I replace one lover with another,” Granger joked.

“That was most considerate of you, sir,” Roberts said, chuckling. He kind of hesitated, like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t.

“You can trust me, Mr. Roberts,” Granger said.

“Mr. Merrick was a friend that I enjoyed,” he said. “Mr. Robey could be more than that.” He blushed slightly when he said that.

“I am very happy for both of you,” Granger said. “I am also surprised, pleasantly, that I’ve seen no outward signs of that.” It was strange that the more intense the feelings, the easier it seemed for Roberts to hide them.

“I’m glad to hear that, sir,” he said. The rest of the breakfast passed in idle conversation, while Granger tried not to think of the implications of this latest move. He’d separated Robey and Travers, and now Robey had found a new lover. What would happen when Travers was back in the picture? Would Robey go back to him, or stay with Roberts? In the end, Granger decided that it was nice to have the drama impacting other people instead of himself. Unless Travers decided to blame him for ruining his relationship with Robey. That was the problem with drama, it was an invasive thing.

By the time they got back to the quarterdeck, Belvidera was just out of long cannon shot of the shore. Granger was happy to see that the nice weather had held, and it made their trip along the Northern Italian coast seem more like a pleasure cruise. “Mr. Roberts, we will head north,” Granger ordered. He wanted to backtrack to Savonna, then turn south again and head toward Nice.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Belvidera turned crisply, the wind off her quarter now, and flew along. The Italian coast seemed to go by in a blur, but Granger knew it was just his imagination. They didn’t sight anything except fishing vessels until they reached Albenga.

“Deck there! Ships in port, off the larboard bow,” the lookout cried.

“I am going aloft,” Granger announced. He headed to the foremast with his glass and began the climb up to the foretop. He chided himself for his lack of stamina. When he was a midshipman he could scurry up the mast in seconds and not even breathe hard. Now he found himself winded by the time he reached the tops. He threw his leg over the top and climbed onto the platform, finding a familiar face waiting for him. “So what have you found, Holmquist?”

“Ships up there at anchor sir,” he said. Granger trained his glass ahead, but couldn’t help looking sideways at the big Swede and thinking of his even bigger dick. He remembered their encounter in Antigua, and how good Holmquist had felt once he’d gotten used to his size. The man was a gentle giant, and an accomplished lover. Granger put that out of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

It took his eyes a bit to accustom themselves to the motion of the mast, but he finally steadied himself enough to see what Holmquist was talking about. There, moored underneath a battery, were three polaccas. Granger eyed the battery, mounted atop the nearby hills, studying its line of fire, and then with a nod to Holmquist, he slid down to the deck.

“Mr. Robey,” Granger called.

“Sir?” he answered.

“There are three polaccas moored underneath a battery off the larboard bow. We are going to close with that battery and show our colors. As soon as they open fire, I want the launch ready to swing out with a boarding party of thirty men. You will capture those ships and bring them out,” Granger said. “Go up to the foretop and study the ships. Mr. Roberts, select the crew for the boat, if you will.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said. Roberts gave him a sour look, and Granger knew why. Command of a cutting out expedition like this should rightly have gone to him. But Granger wanted the commander to understand the lay of the land, and Roberts’ fear of heights made that difficult.

“Mr. Cavendish, run up our colors. Make sure they know who we are,” he ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. The flag rose up to the maintop, announcing to all the world that Belvidera was an English frigate on the prowl.

“Mr. Roberts, clear away the forward guns, but don’t run out yet,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and went to attend to that. Closer and closer they got, until they were within a mile of the shore. Granger worried that they might be leading him into a trap, but decided that the risk was worth it. This was his mission, to disrupt trade along the coast, and polaccas were trading ships. This land belonged to Savoy, and Savoy was controlled by France, which made those ships fair game.

He studied the fort carefully as Belvidera crept closer, decreasing the range with every second. It was a small structure, and an older one, built before the awesome power of modern naval gunnery was truly realized. It should be relatively easy for Belvidera to silence the fort with her main battery, and they should be relatively safe as long as the Italians weren’t using heated shot. Granger took his glass and studied the fort and could see no sign of smoke.

He saw a puff of smoke through his glass and then lowered the device. He heard a ball scream overhead, and saw the shot hit the water well to the starboard. They were well within range. Robey slid down to the deck on the backstay, looking quite agile, and reported in. “Once we close to within a hundred yards of the ships, their cannon won’t be able to harm us, sir. They won’t be able to depress their elevations low enough.” While Belvidera could handle any pounding that the fort could throw at them, the launch could not. A single shot might sink her. So once she left Belvidera, the launch would be in danger until she got to within 100 yards of the shore.

“Excellent! Just as I hoped,” Granger said. “Swing the launch out! Mr. Roberts, you may commence firing! Single shots for target practice. A guinea for the crew that knocks out a gun.”

“Aye aye sir,” they chimed.

“Helm, a point to larboard,” Granger ordered. That brought Belvidera’s full broadside to bear against the fort. He heard the thunder of the gun trucks as the men pushed the massive 18-pounders forward, their muzzles poking through the open gun ports. The first gun fired and they watched the shot as it flew toward the fort. Granger saw it hit the face of the fort, sending pieces of masonry flying. It was unlikely that Belvidera would be able to destroy the fort without a lengthy bombardment, but that wasn’t his purpose. His purpose was to keep their attention until the launch got close enough to the shore to be out of range. That and this gave the gun crews an opportunity to focus on accuracy, and not just speed in reloading.

Granger nodded to Robey as he followed the men over the side into the launch. She set her lugsail and steered toward shore. The fort’s gunners foolishly kept their cannon aimed at Belvidera, the largest target. Granger heard a crash forward and saw the carpenter running to see what had been damaged. The guns were going off with precision regularity, so there was a constant barrage of balls slamming into the fort. He noticed that the fire from the fort had slowed considerably, and tried to visualize the scene inside as the panicked crews fled from their guns after seeing shards of masonry blasted through the air, wounding their comrades.

Granger found himself shaken from his complacency as another shot from the fort slammed into Belvidera, this one followed by a human scream. He grimaced as he thought about that, about the poor wounded soul who would soon be facing Dr. Jacksons’ knife.

He trained his glass ashore and saw the crews of the polaccas fleeing ashore in their boats before Robey and his men even arrived. Thankfully they were so full of fear and in such a hurry they’d neglected to set fire to their ships. Robey efficiently split up his force, earning Granger’s admiration, and was so quick to take control of the vessels it took only 15 minutes for them to cut their cables and sail the craft out of the harbor. The polaccas sailed out looking clumsy with their combination of lateen and square-rigged sails.

“Mr. Roberts, you may square away and follow our prizes,” Granger said. Now that they’d achieved their goal, made their captures, it was agonizing to slowly slink out of range. Without Belvidera’s cannons to deter the fort, its rate of fire increased. The only good news was that Belvidera was sailing away, only exposing her narrow stern to them instead of her broadside.

Granger heard another crash, followed by another scream, as a shot from the fort found its mark. Another shot from the fort and another crash. It seemed that the Italian gunners had finally found the range; only they were too late, and after only a few more shots, Belvidera was safely out of their effective range. “Mr. Roberts, you may secure the guns,” Granger ordered. Once they were completely out of range, they hove to and Robey came over to report.

“Nice work Mr. Robey,” Granger said, greeting him as he came aboard.

“Thank you sir,” Robey said with a huge grin. “The crews of the ships fled before we got there, so we have no prisoners to guard.”

“A wise move on their part,” Granger said, joking.

“Yes sir,” Robey said, still grinning. “All three of the ships are carrying naval stores, bound for Toulon. We incurred no casualties.”

“Excellent,” Granger said, returning his grin. “That should make us quite popular with Sir John.” Jervis had been wondering where all the stores that he needed were going to come from. Well, this was a start. “Detail a master’s mate and five men for each ship, give them our bearings and a course for San Fiorenzo,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” Robey said smartly.

Roberts was standing there smiling at Robey’s success, and Granger was happy that he bore him no ill will for not being given command of the raid. “Sir, only one man was wounded, took a splinter in the leg, but Dr. Jackson thinks he’ll be up and about soon enough. We took only minor damage. The carpenter and his mates should have that repaired by sundown.”

“More good news,” Granger said. “Well done.” He went below to dash off his report of their action, making sure to give all the credit to Robey and Roberts, and then sent it over to the polaccas. They headed to San Fiorenzo, while Belvidera turned her own bow north towards Savonna, looking to wreak more havoc along the coastline.

They’d sailed along the coast as far as Nice, looking for targets that were significant enough to attack, but the only thing they found were small coasting vessels that fled into port the minute they saw Belvidera. Now they were heading back toward Genoa, to rendezvous with Nelson. Granger felt frustrated that they couldn’t do more to disrupt the flow of the small coastal craft, but it was simply not worth the risk to send a boat in, or to take Belvidera within range of a fort, for one small coaster.

They were approaching Imperia, when a hail came from the masthead. Granger fought down his laziness and reminded himself that he’d vowed to exercise more, so he once again grabbed his glass and climbed to the foretop. He found Brookstone up there, his sharp young eyes trained on the port.

“What do we have, Mr. Brookstone?” Granger asked in a friendly tone.

“Looks to be a bunch of coasters, sir,” he said. He was young and looked it, although Granger thought that perhaps it was his bright red hair and the mass of freckles on his face that accentuated his youth. He trained his glass forward and picked up what Brookstone had been talking about. Several coasters had gathered together under the battery at Imperia, presumably to save themselves from Belvidera’s clutches.

“Keep an eye on them and let me know if you see any changes,” Granger ordered, then made his way back to the deck. He’d been lamenting the lack of targets, and it would seem that his presence along the coast had presented one.

“What is it, sir?” Roberts asked curiously.

“It seems that our presence here along the coast has frightened the small craft into seeking shelter under the guns of Imperia,” Granger said with a grin. “They’re like a herd of sheep. At the sight of a wolf, they all group together for safety, or so they think. Let’s close with the shore, to see if we can’t get in among them.”

Roberts smiled, then looked at him oddly before crisply acknowledging his order. Granger understood his attitude. No captain would willingly take his ship within range of a strong hostile shore battery, and Imperia was known to have a strong battery indeed. But Granger wanted to effect something against the coasters, and his first approach was to be a direct one. If that didn’t work, he already had a backup plan forming in his brain. “Beat to quarters, Mr. Roberts. Clear for action,” Granger ordered.

The Bosun’s pipes pealed out and the ship burst into action. He heard the bustle below as his orders were obeyed. They would rip down all the partitions, leaving his cabin not as a cabin, but simply as part of the main deck, exposing the two 18-pounder cannon that were normally hidden under covers. He smiled to himself briefly at thus torturing Winkler, who would have to spend days reorganizing his things.

Belvidera crept closer to the shore, and Granger fancied he could almost feel the fear and tension from the assembled small craft. He needed to get in close enough to blast those ships apart, but he didn’t know how strong the battery was. Closer and closer they went, only now the tension was permeating Belvidera as well. She had another mile to go, at least, before their guns would ravage the coasters. For a battery perched high up on a hill and mounting large caliber cannon, the range at which they could hit Belvidera would be much longer, and would put him at a considerable disadvantage. He trained his glass on the fort just in time to see the first cannon fire. A shot whistled over their head. They were within range of the battery, but well out of range of the coasters. There were ten embrasures on the fort, and Granger was stunned to see all of them filled with cannon aimed at him. “Try a ranging shot, Mr. Robey,” Granger called down to the main deck.

“Aye aye sir,” he answered from the deck below. The forward 18-pounder went off, hurling its ball toward the coasters. Granger watched as the smoke from the gunpowder wafted up from below, the acrid smell reaching his nostrils shortly afterward. Then another gun went off, then another, but their shots landed well short of the assembled craft.

There was no way he would be able to take his ship in close enough to deal with those coasters before that fort ravaged Belvidera. It was simply too strong. As if to emphasize this point, a shot crashed forward. Granger cringed, hoping that no one was hurt. There was another crash, this one amidships. There was nothing more to be gained by staying here.

“Mr. Roberts, you may square away and take us out of here,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, relieved. In minutes, Belvidera was sailing away from Imperia, like a dog running away with its tail between its legs. He could sense the anger and outrage from the crew, but they were a good crew, and there was no outward sign of it. “What course sir?” Roberts asked when they were out of range of the battery.

“We will head back south,” Granger said. “Into the wind.” Then Granger vanished below to examine his charts, and plot his next move. When they were finally out of sight from the shore, Belvidera hove to, and Granger called his officers below to his hastily screened off cabin and laid out his plan.

They sat around his table, adopting poses that reflected their personalities. Roberts, ready for action. Robey, just as ready, but more subdued. Carslake, redoubtable as ever, and Chairs, with a level of disinterest that belied the attention he paid to the proceedings. “Gentlemen, as soon as night falls, I plan to turn Belvidera around and return to Imperia. We will anchor to the southwest of the city around the headland so we won’t be visible from the town.” They eyed him expectantly.

“Mr. Roberts will take the launch and the cutter, along with 50 men, and burn the coasters. When you are done,” Granger said to Roberts, “you can follow the wind out around the eastern headland where we will pick you up.” They all nodded. A raid like this wasn’t unique, it was just relatively rare. “Mr. Roberts, you will fire the windward coasters and let them drift onto the others, so hopefully you’ll be able to burn the lot of them.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said enthusiastically. The command of this mission was his by right, and even though Granger knew that, he’d struggled with that decision, struggled against leading the raid himself. But thoughts of Calvert and his words before their attack on St. Martin emerged, reminding him that gallivanting around in small boats on raids was not his job, and that he needed to give his officers the opportunity to distinguish themselves. He’d learned to follow that up in his reports, heaping the praise on his subordinates where it would do them good, and minimizing his own role, where to do otherwise would only seem vain.

“You may pick your men,” Granger said. “Take ten of the marines with you.” That would give him a solid, trained military force if needed. “We will remain cleared for action and at stations. But for now, you may relight the galley stove and send the men to supper.” The stove was always out when cleared for action, but there was no need for that right now. Still, Granger wanted to make sure Belvidera was ready for anything when she re-approached Imperia.

“Good luck, Mr. Roberts,” Granger said, shaking his hand. Roberts had large calloused hands, the hands of a man who worked with them.

“Thank you sir,” he said with his grin. “We will see you in a few hours at the other headland.” And then he descended into the launch. Granger looked over the side and his eyes locked on Cavendish’s, even in this dim light: their connection was that strong. Roberts had requested that Cavendish be allowed to join the expedition, and Granger felt obliged to agree. It was unreasonable to think he could keep him out of danger, and it would be unfair to deprive him of his right to share in the glory and adventure of the attack. Still, Granger felt his own uncertainty and nervousness gnawing at his insides, a feeling that turned to fear and dread as soon as the boat vanished into the darkness.

“Will we remain at anchor sir?” Robey asked.

“We will weigh in two hours time,” Granger said. “That should give Mr. Roberts time to go in and raise hell, and we should be at the opposite headland to meet him shortly thereafter.”

“Aye aye sir,” Robey said. It occurred to Granger that they were in the same situation, with their lovers off on this mission while they remained in the relative safety of Belvidera.

“We will remain at quarters until we have retrieved the boats and cleared Imperia,” Granger went on. Robey acknowledged his order, and then Granger headed to his side of the deck, the side reserved only for the captain, and began to pace. It was a beautiful night, so rare for this time of year, with light winds and light seas, but a cloud-covered sky that prevented the stars and the moon from lighting the way. It was almost pitch black, and he hoped that Roberts would be able to find his way in and out of the harbor.

Granger let the cool air wash over him as he paced the deck, and then decided that he might as well tackle a different problem to distract himself. “Mr. Robey, pass the word for Clifton.”

“Aye aye sir,” Robey said smartly, and the word flew through the ship for seaman Clifton to report to the captain, which he did quite promptly.

“You wanted to see me sir,” Clifton said. The arrogance Granger had seen before had vanished. The lad was conducting himself like a normal member of his crew.

“I did. I want you to understand why I punished you and sent you before the mast,” Granger told him. “Discipline is a vital thing in a King’s ship. When you so openly defied me and my orders, you threatened to upset that delicate balance that discipline is.”

“I understand, sir,” Clifton said.

“While I am conscious of your position, and while I respect your family, your attitude reflected a lack of respect for not only me and this ship, but to the King himself,” Granger said severely. He was the King’s representative, so for Clifton to disobey him was like Clifton disobeying the King. And that was treason.

“I am very sorry about that, sir,” Clifton said sincerely. “I promise that it won’t happen again.”

Granger was glad it was dark, dark enough to hide the surprise on his face as Clifton all but abjectly surrendered to him here on the quarterdeck. “You may resume your duties as a midshipman.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Clifton said nervously, then paused to collect his words. “I’d like to stay as I am for the present, if you’ve no objection.”

Now Granger was too shocked not to show it. “You would?”

“Yes sir, if it’s alright with you,” Clifton said.

“I’m fine with that, but I am interested to know why,” Granger said.

“I’m actually doing something productive, sir,” he said. “I’m using my hands, working with my mess, and I’m part of a team. And they treat me like that, sir. They don’t treat me any differently.”

“Then you may return to your mess with my blessing,” Granger said. “If you should change your mind, I will rely on you to come to see me.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said, and vanished. Granger continued his pacing, letting Clifton distract him from worrying about his men that were sailing into a hostile Savoyard port even now. Clifton must have been like a fish out of water on board Victory, with her large gunroom. He’d relied on his arrogance as a shield against it, against the other midshipmen and the men. Only that had created a gulf, a distance that must have made him terribly lonely. Now that he was forced to live with the men and interact as an equal, he must have finally found a place in the Navy where he could fit in. Granger thought about that and decided to do as he promised, to leave Clifton alone.

He was so deep in his thoughts about Clifton he almost ran a man down, a man who was blocking his path. “What is it?” snapped Granger, irritated at being interrupted.

“We’ve sighted a ship, sir,” the crewman said softly. “I was on watch on the main top and sighted a ship looming off to the larboard.”

“Mr. Robey,” Granger hissed. “Pass the word. I want complete quiet on board. No one makes a sound.”

“Aye aye sir,” Robey whispered.

“Now show me this ship, Samuels,” Granger said, and followed the lookout back up to the main top. The climb was longer because the mast was taller, but Granger only needed to go up to the first platform. Samuels stopped and pointed dramatically. There, off the starboard bow, was a very large ship. Granger studied her, glad that the darkness would hide them, but irritated that it prevented him from ascertaining what exactly that ship was.

Slowly the details came clear to him. She was hove to, which would seem to indicate she was a Frenchman. They were a lubberly lot, the French, and usually hove to at night to avoid having to call their crews aloft in the middle of the night. In addition to that, there were no British ships expected in this area. There were lights from her stern cabin now, and his eyes had adjusted enough to make out her shape. She was either a big frigate, or a small ship-of-the-line, but either way, she’d be a tough match for Belvidera, especially a Belvidera handicapped without the presence of 50 of her men. Under normal circumstances, he’d wait for dawn, figure out what she was, and then attack her, but these were no normal circumstances.

Out there in the darkness were 50 of his men, including his lover, all blithely going forward with their mission, all expecting to burn some coasters and sail out unmolested. Once those coasters started burning, this newcomer would move in for the kill. She would sink Belvidera’s boats, or at best, capture his men. He had to stop her before she was in a position to do that.