HMS Belvidera - 33. Chapter 33

June, 1796

His Majesty’s Frigate Belvidera cruised slowly through the Straits of Gibraltar, heading east, back into the Mediterranean. It was a beautiful day, one of many, and it was hard to feel this was anything more than a long yachting excursion. George Granger scanned his ship, looking for any flaw in her condition, anything that may cause problems later, or embarrassment if they were to be seen by the probing eye of an admiral. Not that he really had to worry about that, Granger thought cynically. The closest admiral was Mann, off the coast of Cadiz, and Granger had studiously managed to avoid him during his brief stay in Gibraltar.

He turned his attention to looking at the crew, at studying their demeanor. It was hard to imagine a happier bunch of Jacks. They had rotating shore leave, and with plenty of prize money, they were able to thoroughly enjoy the town. He watched a seaman rush to the side of the ship and vomit over the side. Granger hid his smile. He was probably one of the men who had come aboard last night, fresh back from leave. His stomach was evidently rebelling against his activities ashore.

Granger’s mental introspection was interrupted by the only person who seemed unhappy in Gibraltar: Dr. Jackson. “Good morning, Doctor,” Granger said affably.

“Good morning, sir,” Jackson said. “I have to report another case of venereal disease. That brings the total to six thus far.”

“It is an unfortunate result of shore leave. The alternative is much worse,” Granger said. Denying the men shore leave for no reason other than to keep them from the joys available ashore would drive them to the brink of mutiny.

“Still, it is nice to be at sea and away from those temptations, sir,” Jackson said.

“Perhaps when the men see the results of the French Pox, they’ll be more careful.” The cure for venereal disease was almost worse than the disease itself. It could mean either mercury or arsenic treatments, and those would leave the man feeble and disfigured.

“Perhaps, sir. Some of them still believe that you can get rid of it by having sexual relations with an uninfected person. God help their wives when we get back to England.”

“There are some concerns I have to leave to others, Doctor,” Granger said severely, his patience exhausted. He was unwilling to accept responsibilities for the sexual organs and libidos of his men.

“Yes sir, of course sir,” Jackson said hastily, realizing that he’d pushed his Captain just a bit too far. “I want to thank you for my own shore leave.”

“Hopefully you did not contract one of those diseases?” Granger teased.

“No sir,” Jackson said, smiling. “I occupied my time looking at the flora and fauna. There are some wild monkeys on the Rock. They can be most aggressive, and I narrowly avoided being bitten.”

“I wonder how our men are faring with them.” Granger pondered. He’d sent the men who had been court-martialed to man the lookout station at the top of the Rock.

“I suspect they were a bit surprised by them at first, sir, but now I’m sure the monkeys have learned to steer clear of them.”

“I suspect you’re right,” Granger said, laughing.

“Deck there! Sail ho just beyond the point!” came the cry from the lookout.

Granger grabbed his speaking trumpet, just remembering to do it in a calm and deliberate manner. “What do you make of her?”

“Two ships, grappled together, sir!” came the reply. “Looks like a xebec caught a Spaniard.” That was pretty bold of the pirates, to harass Spanish ships this close to Ceuta and Algeciras. Piracy was an ongoing problem in these waters, and the top irritant of Governor O’Hara.

“Mr. Robey, alter course to close with those ships,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Robey said, with only the slightest look of surprise. It wasn’t their job to get involved in a dispute between pirates and Spaniards, but things had been calm lately, and Granger was just a little bored. Investigating would do no harm.

Belvidera’s prow turned toward land while Robey trimmed the braces. She was sailing before the wind now, enjoying a fair burst of speed. Granger looked up at the mast and reminded himself that he had promised to exercise. He walked up to the foremast and began to climb up energetically. He was winded by the time he got to the crosstrees, a condition that only seemed to accentuate his lack of stamina and his need to do this more often. “What do we have here?” he asked the lookout.

“Two ships grappled over there, sir,” he said, pointing at the shore. The pirates had found a small bay to pull in and evidently view their prize. Granger trained his glass on the deck of the Spaniard as the pirates swarmed over the side. He watched through his glass as they butchered a seaman in cold blood, and then did the same to a man who appeared to be the master.

“Clear away the bowchaser!” Granger shouted from the tops. He watched men rush to obey his orders, to clear away the gun. He trained his glass on the ship again. A man was being hauled onto the deck, and he must be a man of some substance if his clothes were any indicator. He was wearing a jacket that would be more at home at Court, and Granger could see his golden shoe buckles glimmering through the glass. Granger turned to shout down to the deck when the seaman called his attention back to the two ships.

“They’re going to bugger him, sir” The lookout exclaimed.

Granger trained his glass on the ship and saw them rip the man’s coat off of him, then his shirt. He was a young, fit man, Granger noted. He saw the look of terror on the poor man’s face as his trousers were removed. One of the pirates moved up behind him and pushed his dick in roughly. The look on the Spaniard’s face was agonizing, even for Granger. “Mr. Roberts, a shot across their bow!”

“Aye aye sir,” he called. Granger turned back and watched the pirates rape the poor Spaniard. They’d stripped him bare now. Granger couldn’t help but admire his muscular body and handsome face. The first pirate was evidently done and a different one came up to take his place. Granger heard the shot crash out and watched the ball fall well away from the xebec, as it was intended.

The pirates looked up at this new menace, and seemed daunted. He watched some of them scurrying to grab what they could from the Spaniard and leave. Granger blanched when he saw another man getting ready for his turn at the Spaniard. This pirate was a large man, with a huge dick. It was hard to be certain from this distance, and through the glass, but it looked to be a monster. “Captain Somers! I need snipers up here at once!”

“Aye aye sir,” he called. Granger watched as the second pirate finished. The man with the huge dick moved up but was pushed aside by a man who must have been his superior. They argued, and it was possible to see their veins bulging as they screamed at each other.

“Another shot, Mr. Roberts,” Granger ordered. “Aim at the xebec.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Roberts said. Granger knew he had no business firing on a xebec, and he could end up seriously censured for his actions. The xebec flew the banner of the Dey of Algiers, a powerful and important ally in a place where England had no other friends.

A marine scrambled up next to him. “See that man, the one with his big cock out?” Granger asked.

“Yes sir,” the marine said, grinning.

“Shoot him,” Granger ordered. The marine leveled his musket and fired. The shot must have gone wild, for they saw no sign of it. Granger realized he was taking an enormous risk. With the accuracy even of rifled muskets, it was just as likely that they’d hit the Spaniard. But if he were the Spaniard, he’d take the risk: he’d rather be shot than endure being raped and humiliated by a whole crew of pirates.

“Missed, sir,” the marine said unnecessarily. He grabbed another musket from the loader, aimed, and fired. Granger watched through his glass as the bullet hit the pirate square in the chest, sending him reeling backward. Hitting a man from the tops of a ship was almost a miracle: that was either really good shooting, really good luck, or both.

“Nice shot, marine,” Granger said. He pulled a guinea out of his purse and handed it to the surprised sniper.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, beaming. Just then, the bowchaser went off. Granger watched as the shot crashed into the xebec. They were frail craft. Another shot like that might just sink her. He watched the pirates scrambling to flee from the Spaniard, even as the xebec set her huge lugsail.

“Mr. Roberts, run up our French colors!” Granger shouted. “Keep me informed,” he said to the lookout.

“Aye aye sir,” the lookout said.

“Shoot any man who threatens to harm him,” Granger said, referring to the Spaniard that had been raped. He grabbed a backstay and slid down as agilely as he could, landing squarely on the deck.

“Heave to, Mr. Roberts,” Granger ordered. “Lower the launch with a full boarding party.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger looked aft to see the French tricolor rising up the flagstaff. It was a cheap ruse, but maybe the Algerians would be moronic enough to think the French were intervening to defend their future allies. In any event, it would probably delay any complaints to London.

“They’re leaving, sir,” Robey observed. The xebec gained way quickly, and then turned away from her prize. She headed out to sea, crossing Belvidera’s bows as she did. He watched them wave their fists and jeer at them as they left.

“You have the ship, Mr. Roberts,” Granger said as he headed to the entry port.

“Sir, please let me go instead,” Roberts said. It was his duty to watch out for the safety of his captain, and captains really had no business boarding strange ships in this fashion. But Granger wanted to see what was going on first hand.

“You have the ship, Mr. Roberts,” Granger said severely. He lowered himself into the launch. He was used to his gig, so the size of the launch surprised him. He nodded to the coxswain, who gave a crisp order. They cast off from the ship and pushed away from her, then started rowing. The men rowed rhythmically, but it wasn’t fast enough. “Put your backs into it men,” Granger urged. The pace picked up. Granger eyed the Spanish ship, a brig, wondering what he’d find aboard. They got closer to the ship, close enough to get a good look at her. Granger could see nothing unique about her: she seemed to be an ordinary merchant brig. They neared her sides and the men gave one long stroke, and then boated their oars. The launch crashed against the side of the brig as they grappled with her, then the men poured up over her side. Granger almost had to force his way among them, and he was by no means the first man aboard.

The pirates had left a few men aboard, but the boarding party cut them down quickly enough. Granger ignored them and rushed over to the naked man who was lying on the deck in a fetal position. “Señor,” Granger said.

His eyes opened and he looked at Granger. The pain and anguish in his expression seared into Granger’s soul. “You are safe now,” Granger said softly and sympathetically in French.

“You are English?” the man asked in that language.

“Yes,” Granger said. He had assumed the man would only know Spanish and French, so the mildly accented English response surprised Granger. “We must get you to my ship where you can receive medical attention.”

“The ship’s secure, sir,” Clifton said.

“Get me a blanket,” Granger ordered. Clifton dashed off to do his bidding. Granger gazed down at this mysterious man sprawled out in front of him. He had skin that wasn’t as pale as an Englishman, but not as dark as that of a typical Spaniard, while his hair was blond and curly. Granger couldn’t stop his eyes from taking in the man’s body, from his hairless chest and abdomen, down to his pubic hair, which was much darker, a light brown color. His legs were strong and muscular, the legs of a man who spent a lot of time riding horses. They were dusted with hair the same color as his pubic hair. Granger forced his eyes back up to the man’s face. Clifton handed him a blanket, which Granger wrapped around him.

“The ship is carrying a cargo of grain and wine, sir,” Clifton said.

“Take command here, Mr. Clifton. Follow us back to Gibraltar. You may keep half a dozen men to help you.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Clifton said, and tried hard to hide his grin. He failed. This would be his first command, and that was worth smiling about. Granger grinned with him.

“Señor, if you will please follow me, we will take you back to my ship and help you get dressed,” Granger said politely.

The man nodded, and Granger helped him up. Some of the men guided him over the side and handed him into the launch, then they rowed back to Belvidera. The Spaniard said nothing for the duration of their short trip. “We’ll need a bosun’s chair,” Granger told the coxswain. He signaled for one as they got closer. The launch turned sharply under Belvidera’s stern and swept up to her chains in a smooth maneuver. “I will meet you on deck, Señor,” Granger said to the man. He looked terrified, but Granger’s words seemed to calm him. They helped him into the bosun’s chair and hoisted him up, while Granger took the more dignified alternative, hauling himself up over the side.

“Welcome back, sir,” Roberts said.

“Thank you,” Granger said curtly, his eyes fixed firmly on the Spaniard as he soared above the deck. “You may square away for Gibraltar. Mr. Clifton will follow us. I will be below.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Roberts said. Granger left his curiosity over the ship unsatisfied as he headed to help the Spaniard. The bosun’s chair lowered to the deck, and the seamen on deck helped him out of it. The Spaniard clutched the blanket around him as if it were a shield. He relaxed when he saw Granger.

“This way, Señor,” Granger said, leading him down to his cabin. Winkler was there, waiting. “He will attend to your needs,” Granger said. The Spaniard nodded. Winkler removed the blanket and Granger couldn’t help but admire this handsome man. Granger’s eyes moved down his body, and then moved back up, where they locked onto the handsome Spaniard’s blue eyes. The man smirked slightly at that, making Granger blush. “Winkler, let me know when he is situated,” Granger said, frustrated. He went back up on deck, not to check up on Roberts, who was more than capable of conning Belvidera back to Gibraltar, but to escape from the Spaniard and his knowing looks.

“Do we know who that man is, sir?” Roberts asked.

“Not yet. I’m sure we’ll find out as soon as he’s cleaned up and dressed,” Granger snapped. He scowled at the deck in general, and decided to pace the weather side. The other officers sensed his mood and wisely left him alone. He went up and down, back and forth, ignoring the looks he got, ignoring all of them, conscious of Belvidera’s progress and movements and nothing more.

Someone appeared in front of him, a daring move to be sure. Granger pulled himself out of his reverie. “His Excellency is prepared to receive you now, sir,” Winkler said uncomfortably.

“His Excellency?” Granger asked.

“That is how he told me to address him, sir,” Winkler said.

Granger almost sighed with exasperation. It would figure that as soon as the naked, raped Spaniard got some clothes on he’d be a slave to protocol just like most of his countrymen. He headed down to his own cabin and found the Spaniard seated on his settee, drinking some of his port.

“Welcome, Captain,” he said, his manner casual, as if he had not a concern in the world. Granger recognized that act: it was the same façade he would have worn. “As you can see, I am now fit to receive you.”

“I am glad to see you doing better,” Granger said, swallowing the anger he felt at having this Spaniard ‘receive’ him in his own cabin. “Perhaps you will tell me who you are.”

“Luis Joaquín Fernandez de Córdoba, Duke de Cardona, Grandee of Spain,” he said proudly. Granger was not very familiar with Spanish nobility, but he recognized some of the names mentioned. A duke was a person of some reckoning, even on the continent where titles seemed to be as common as puddles. A Grandee of Spain was a much more important title, indicating this was a man who had access to the King himself. This young duke was obviously the progeny of a great house. “My father is the Duke of Medinaceli.”

Granger knew that name: Medinaceli. The Dukedom of Medinaceli was one of Spain’s most illustrious dukedoms, and this man’s father was one of the richest men in the world. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency,” Granger said, bowing in his courtly manner. “I am Captain the Honorable George Granger. My father is the Earl of Bridgemont.”

The Duke eyed him curiously, and looked as if he was scanning the recesses of his memory. “I know of you,” the Spaniard said excitedly. “You were the Englishman who saved the gold shipment near Tenerife! You were awarded the order of Carlos II.”

“I am flattered that you remember me, Your Excellency,” Granger said.

Cardona looked dismissively at his sleeve. “Your arrival was unfortunately delayed,” he said. “An hour earlier would have been much better.” Granger felt rage flow through his body, and was struggling to control it in the face of this arrogant Spaniard, who would have the nerve to criticize him for going way beyond his orders in the first place. The anger faded when Granger noticed the young man smiling wryly at him. He had not expected a playful sense of humor from this young duke.

“I am not authorized to interfere in the affairs of the Dey of Algiers, especially since our countries are no longer allies,” Granger said steadily.

“Yet you did,” he said. There was a noise as the door opened and Winkler came in with the cabin servants to lay out dinner.

“I assumed you’d want dinner, sir,” Winkler said apologetically.

“Quite right,” Granger said. “Would you join me, Your Excellency?”

“With pleasure,” he said. Winkler and the other servants laid out the food and then left them alone.

“Your country does not have many allies, Capitan. Why did you risk offending one of the few you have?”

“I saw what they were doing to you,” Granger said softly and sympathetically.

“It is a memory I will try to eradicate,” he said sadly. “To be violated like that by that scum...” He put down his fork and looked off for a minute, the rage blazing in his eyes. “I should have them hunted down and tortured to death.”

“I think you would be better to just forget the whole thing,” Granger told him.

“That is easy for you to say,” he snapped. “You weren’t raped.”

“I wasn’t raped today, but I have been,” Granger said. He was shocked that he had revealed something so personal. He watched his words impact Cardona.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I am not the only one who has suffered in this world.”

“No, you are not. And as things turned out, you ended up safe on board one of His Britannic Majesty’s ships. Tonight we will be in Gibraltar, and as soon as you like after that, you may cross the border back into Spain.”

“So why did you do it? Why did you violate your orders?” he asked.

“Probably for the same reasons that I donate money to help the French émigrés who seek shelter in England. We are linked by a common social class. There are certain abuses we should not have to suffer.”

“That is a very good response, but I think it is possibly not the only reason.”

“Possibly not. I saw a very handsome and scared young man being tortured. It seemed like the obvious thing to do.”

Cardona smiled at him. “I am very grateful that you did. If I had it in my power to help you with your government, I would, but I fear that by the time I intervened, we would be at war, and that would only hurt your cause.” There was a sadness in his tone as he said that.

“I have grown to love Spain and Spaniards,” Granger said, “so the thought that we might be at war again pains me. Thank you for your offer of help, but I should be able to escape from any censure without any serious damage.”

“Your father will see to that, just as my father would?” he asked with a grin. “He has had to clean up some of my messes in the past.”

“I’ve been pretty easy on my father, but I have a middle brother who has seriously tested his patience,” Granger said, laughing as he thought of Bertie and what a rogue he was.

“You are not the oldest?”

“No, I am the youngest of three sons,” Granger said.

“That is most unlucky of you,” Cardona said, joking.

“It has worked out alright,” Granger said, grinning back at him.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation just as they were finishing dinner. Roberts entered, looking nervous. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but the wind’s backed. With your permission, I’d like to anchor for the evening.”

“Your excellency, please allow me to present my first lieutenant. Mr. Roberts, this is His Excellency the Duke of Cardona,” Granger said, remembering his manners.

Roberts bowed elegantly. “It is a pleasure to be introduced to Your Excellency.”

“As it is for me, Lieutenant,” Cardona said.

“If you will excuse me, Your Excellency, I must go on deck,” Granger said.

“I will accompany you, if that is not too much trouble,” he said pleasantly. Roberts led them up to the quarterdeck. The other officers looked at Cardona curiously, but Granger ignored them. He scanned the sea, felt the wind on his cheek, and reached the same conclusion that Roberts had. There was no point in fighting against the wind all night; they would have to anchor.

“You may anchor, Mr. Roberts,” Granger said. “Signal Mr. Clifton to anchor as well.”

“Aye aye, sir,” he said.

“Your ships are much different from ours,” Cardona said. Granger was surprised that he’d been aboard a Spanish warship. He assumed that a denizen of the high nobility would spend all of his time near Madrid.

“How so, Your Excellency?” Granger asked.

“Our crews are mostly peasants, and all of the navigation is done by seamen. The officers do not concern themselves with such things,” he said, almost arrogantly. Granger watched as he seemed to consider things. “I can see the benefits of your system.”

“You have not yet told me what brought you to sea in a small merchant brig,” Granger said.

“I was traveling from Barcelona to Cadiz. Unfortunately, the coastal roads are not pleasant, so I opted for a faster method of transport, although I am wondering if that is so.”

Granger laughed. “I am sorry you have been delayed, but I suspect you will still arrive in Cadiz before you would have, had you gone overland.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Cardona said.

“I fear we will have to detain you tonight as well,” Granger said. “We will not be able to reach Gibraltar until tomorrow.”

“It is much more pleasant here than on board the brig anyway,” Cardona said.

“Sir, Mr. Clifton is requesting we send a boat,” Roberts said.

“Send the launch, Mr. Roberts.” What now? Granger wondered. They stood on deck, enjoying the beautiful evening weather. The wind dropped away to barely a whispering breeze as the sun slowly set. Granger and Cardona walked over to the rail and gazed across the calm sea, watching the golden orb of the sun slowly be absorbed by the horizon.

“Sunsets are the most beautiful at sea,” he said.

“They are,” Granger said. “And much calmer than sunrise. As you will find tomorrow, His Majesty’s ships begin their days at quarters.”

“And once the sun sets, the stars will light up the sky,” Cardona said wistfully.

“You may stay up on deck as long as you like to enjoy them,” Granger said.

“It is ironic that I feel more welcome and comfortable here than I do on His Most Catholic Majesty’s ships.”

Granger laughed. “I suspect their officers are intimidated by someone of your rank.”

“But you are not,” he said more than asked.

“No, I respect your position, but it does not intimidate me.”

“That is as it should be,” Cardona said. They were standing close together near the rail. Granger could feel the heat emanating from Cardona’s body. That, combined with memories of how handsome he looked when he was naked, was creating a very obvious reaction. Granger fought hard to quell his libido. It was helped when Roberts interrupted them.

“The launch has returned, sir,” Roberts said. “Mr. Clifton found two trunks with some of Your Excellency’s things in them. He was hoping they would make you more comfortable.”

“That is most kind of you,” Cardona said.

“Have the chests taken below to my cabin,” Granger ordered. “Tell Winkler to rig a sleeping cabin for His Excellency.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said, and left them alone.

“I’m sure it will be nice to have your own clothing.”

“Perhaps,” Cardona said. Then he got nervous. “You told me that you were raped. Can you tell me how you got over it?”

“I’m not sure,” Granger said.

“You are not sure if you are over it, or you are not sure you can tell me?”

“I’m not sure I can tell you,” Granger said honestly.

“I am hoping you will reconsider,” Cardona said. “I know that tonight, when I am in bed, the memory will haunt me. It is only your charming company that has chased the memories away.”

“It’s just very personal,” Granger said. He wasn’t sure he could trust this Spaniard; to tell him how he finally overcame the trauma Iggy put him through.

“It is not something you want other people to know?” Granger nodded. “As a Grandee of Spain, if I give you my word of honor to say nothing, to reveal nothing, will that not be enough of a guarantee?”

Granger was stuck, and he knew it. “Of course it will. I did not mean to offend you. Let us go below and I’ll explain it to you.” Granger led Cardona down to his cabin. It was a beautiful evening, with a nice breeze blowing. Winkler had opened the stern windows, letting the fresh air in. Granger led Cardona out to the quarter gallery, and as he walked through his office, he noticed that Winkler had rearranged it to make a suitable cabin for Cardona. Granger paused to consider that there was a door from his office to his sleeping cabin, and swallowed nervously.

“What a marvelous place to sit,” Cardona said. They sat in the quarter gallery, enjoying the sea breeze and the two comfortable armchairs that had been placed there.

“I think so. It is one of the more peaceful places on board a crowded man-of-war.”

“So how did you overcome the experience?” Cardona asked, refusing to let Granger steer the conversation far from their original topic.

Granger controlled his nervousness, but barely. “Men are not always rough and violent. To experience one who is loving and caring can help take away the pain.”

Cardona stared at him, amazed. “You let another man do that to you? Willingly?”

“Yes,” Granger said, having no other real response.

“I cannot do that. I cannot. That kind of relationship with another man...that goes against all that I believe in, all that is in my soul. My whole body screams out that it is wrong.”

“You do not have to,” Granger said. He was completely embarrassed yet offended at the same time. To have Cardona react that way after he’d confided in him seemed completely wrong. “I am just telling you how I did it.”

Cardona gave him a look of total disdain, making Granger’s temper rise. Hadn’t he saved this arrogant Spaniard from further sodomy and death? And did he really think that his blood was bluer than Granger’s? “I would like to retire,” Cardona said.

“You may sleep in my sleeping cabin,” Granger said curtly. “Please follow me.” Granger led him back through his office and through the door into his own sleeping cabin.

“You are sleeping in here?” Cardona asked, horrified.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Granger said calmly, his demeanor belying the rage underneath his smooth facade. “Should I want a partner, I am lucky enough to have several people more than willing to serve in that role.” He turned on his heel and walked out of his sleeping cabin and out into the day cabin. “Winkler, you may attend to the Duke. I will go to bed after he does.”

Winkler saw Granger’s furrowed brow and the fire in his eyes that showed how angry he was. “Aye aye, sir,” he said quickly, not wanting to provoke his captain.