HMS Valiant - 1. Chapter 1

My goal with this story is to post one chapter per week.  That's my goal.  We'll see how reality works out.

May 13, 1799

Windsor Castle

Caroline Granger hid her concern as she watched her husband chat with the old King, engaging in an inane discussion about horses and such. George was polished, the perfect courtier, but Caroline knew that beneath the surface, he was in agony. To be inactive while there was a war going on was truly hellish for a warrior like George.

He had been home for almost six months now; and while Caroline knew that he had enjoyed his time with her, and their children, he had become increasingly agitated as time went on. Not that anyone would notice, because George was like a blank slate to the casual observer, but she knew him, and she could sense his feelings. He’d spent time at court, and was quite in demand in social circles as the season continued. They’d been to balls, dinner parties, and masquerades; They’d spent time at clubs, both Almack’s and Brooks’s; and they’d attended various state functions. It had been a whirlwind of activity. But for all that, she knew that George was a fish out of water, an apt analogy; he was a captain without a ship, as war raged around their island kingdom.

It saddened her that he could not be happy at home, and that the sea and his duty drew on him so heavily. She placated this sadness by pretending that he felt the same way about her when he was at sea, and by hoping that when peacetime came, he would be able to relax. She had initially planned a subtle lobbying campaign to prevent his exchange, or at least to postpone it, so as to keep him at home longer. The King seemed to like having him around, as did the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Clarence, so that should not have been too hard of a bargain to make. But these last few months, seeing how agonizing it had been for George to be without a vessel, she had changed her strategy. She had added her voice to his, clamoring for the government to arrange an exchange, probably the truest proof of her love for him. She knew, even if George did not, that a deal was almost arranged.

Granger bowed politely as his sovereign moved on, and barely prevented a sigh of relief from escaping his mouth as the old King headed off to retire to his closet. He caught his father’s eye, and got the slightest of winks, as the Duke of Suffolk followed the King. His father was one of the privileged few allowed to join the King in his private quarters, although for Granger, that privilege would be more of a torture. He waited for a few minutes, to make sure the King was truly off, and then turned to seek out his wife. “We are now able to retire to our quarters,” he said to Caroline with a smile.

“You sound relieved,” she teased him. “You do not enjoy serving your King?”

“I am very devoted to my sovereign, but I find that our definition of amusements is somewhat different,” he joked back. He led her back to the Round Tower, which was part of the Middle Ward of Windsor Castle. The entire castle felt old and a bit outdated, as if it was made to cater to an older generation, and the tower was no exception. As governor, Granger had use of the entire structure, which consisted of some state rooms, a dining room, and a number of bedrooms.

When he’d first occupied the place, they’d done some remodeling, but the King was not pleased with too much change, so it was a challenge to adapt things to his tastes. The walls were draped with ornate tapestries, which made the rooms feel cozy, but a bit stuffy and confined. He and Caroline had done their best with what they had to work with.

Perhaps the best feature of all was the kitchen facilities, which enabled Granger to entertain his fellow courtiers. Even the King had dined with them, and had sampled Lefavre’s fabulous cooking. The thought of that made him hungry, and he was glad to see smoke rising from the chimney, telling him that dinner was being prepared. They’d taken the boldest decorating steps in the dining room, and the King had not seemed displeased. They’d managed to make the room lighter, and that made it seem much more hospitable.

“I am tempted to escape back to London,” he said to Caroline.

“I cannot see that you can reasonably do that until at least tomorrow,” she cautioned. Granger preferred a brighter social life than could be found here at Windsor, and tended to run with the young rakes of the realm. She knew she could trust him to live up to his vow to her to take no other woman as a sexual partner, but he had succumbed to the other two temptations that were present: gambling and drinking. They were both fortunate in that he could hold his liquor rather well, and that he was usually lucky at the tables.

“You’re right, of course,” he agreed. What he really wanted was to do something productive, and that meant going back to sea. He had been paroled back to England from France, but without being formally exchanged, his role in the Navy was all but ended. Instead, he socialized, and took up his seat in the House of Lords. “If I return to London, I will probably just end up listening to another one of Lord Holland’s rants.”

“I suspect we will not see him here, at least for the short term,” Caroline joked, smiling at Granger.

“Just as His Majesty was about to forgive him for his letter of protest about using the militia in Ireland,” Granger said, “he sends one off opposing the Union.” The Union of Ireland to Great Britain had been a subject of relatively hot debate in Parliament. Peers who objected to decisions made by the House of Lords could send a letter of protest to the King, explaining their opposition. Lord Holland seemed to delight in such literary efforts.

“Just make sure you don’t sign them,” she cautioned.

“I am not convinced that having English militia stationed in Ireland is the best decision, but I will support the government,” Granger said evenly, annoyed that his wife would presume to tell him how to conduct himself at Westminster.

“And you are convinced that the Union with Ireland is a good policy?” she asked.

“If it unites the two islands more fully, it would appear to be a good idea,” Granger said cautiously. If it calmed down the Irish revolutionaries, then in Granger’s mind, it was a worthwhile plan. He was aware that was a big ‘if’.

“I have avoided becoming too entangled in Irish affairs,” Caroline said, “even though property there is cheap, and it is purportedly a beautiful island.”

“Perhaps if we bought property there, it would give us an excuse to visit,” Granger said.

“You are so anxious to leave?” Caroline asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Granger glared at her, because he was bored and she was right, and because he was mad at her for reading him so well. “That is not a very nice thing to say. I have enjoyed my time at home with you and the children.” He turned on his heel to leave, lest she cry and make him feel worse.

He felt her hand pulling at his coat, holding him back. “George, I know that, but I know you are like a caged lion here. I was not trying to make you feel guilty.”

He turned back to her with a grimace, one that turned into a smile. “I am sorry for lashing out at you, when your only sin is reading me so well,” he said. “I am constantly vexed with myself these days, and I have vented that on you.”

They went into the drawing room and he poured them both a glass of wine, some of the wine he’d ‘imported’ from France. “Why are you vexed at yourself?” she asked.

He sighed, something he did rarely, and then usually only with Caroline. She found it to be an intimate gesture. “It seems that no matter where I am, I am never happy. If I am at sea, I miss you so much it is agonizing. But when I am home, I feel the sea calling to me as if she were a siren.”

“You are lucky I am willing to put up with this other mistress,” she said playfully, getting a grateful smile from him. “I know you as well as you do, and I can feel that yearning. I am wont to know how to solve the problem.”

“It is unfair of me to put that burden on you,” Granger said, feeling incredibly guilty for making his wife feel as if his whole purpose in life was to escape from her. “I wonder if there will come a time when I can be at home, and be at peace.”

“I think that you just answered your question,” she said. “You are a warrior, George, a tribute to your class. It is the true calling of an aristocrat. When there is no war, then you will be at peace.”

He thought about what she said, and smiled broadly, choosing to assume that she was right. “Then I must pray for peace.”

“It is a good thing to do anyway,” she joked.

“I cannot see peace in Europe as long as the Directory is in power,” Granger said. He’d told the foreign office the same thing. “They need war to focus attention away from the condition of France.”

“Perhaps there will be another revolution,” Caroline said, uttering the last word with a sneer. “It is something the French seem to be good at.”

“Indeed,” Granger agreed.

They both looked up as Grayson appeared. He was the equivalent of their butler at Windsor. “My lord, the Earl Spencer has come to call on you.”

Granger stood up, as did Caroline. “Please show him back.” Grayson vanished, and appeared moments later with Spencer trailing behind him. “Welcome!” Granger said to the First Lord. He poured Spencer a glass of wine while Spencer greeted Caroline.

“I will leave you gentlemen,” Caroline said. Granger invited Spencer to sit with him, and handed him the glass of wine.

“This is the same wine you sent me,” Spencer asked. “It is wondrous.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Granger said. He’d brought bottles back for the King, the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Clarence, and selected friends, of which Spencer was one. “I fear the duties cost me more dearly than the wine.”

Spencer laughed. “I think you are unusual in that you actually paid them.” Smuggling was an ongoing problem.

“Perhaps that is why we now have an income tax,” Granger observed.

“Perhaps,” Spencer allowed, “but our friends in the Exchequer would have me believe the problem is more severe than one which can be solved merely by customs duties.”

“I am so unfamiliar with their world I feel unable to venture an opinion,” Granger said with a chuckle, even though he was quite astute at reading and understanding ledgers. It was a good part of the job of a ship’s captain.

“Well, I have come to see you for other reasons than to discuss the finances of the realm,” Spencer said. “I have good news for you.”

“Indeed?” Granger asked.

“We have finally been able to reach an agreement for your exchange. You are free to commit belligerent acts against the French Republic and their allies,” Spencer said with a smile. Granger’s smile was much broader. He got up and refilled their glasses.

“Thank you for that,” he said, and raised his glass to toast his freedom.

“I was but one lever in a larger machine,” Spencer said dismissively, even though Granger knew that was not the case.

“And what was the cost for my release?” Granger asked.

“We were able to put together a package that included Berry and Thompson, along with a few other officers; in exchange for General Jean Joseph Amable Humbert, along with officers captured at the Nile,” Spencer said.

“I am not familiar with General Humbert,” Granger said, more of a question.

“He was one of the leaders of the French forces that landed in Ireland,” Spencer said, frowning. Most Englishmen frowned when they thought of the revolt and associated French invasion of Ireland last year.

“Well I am most grateful to Monsieur Humbert for allowing himself to be captured,” Granger joked, making Spencer chuckle.

“I know you are comfortable here at Windsor, but if it would not inconvenience you too much, I would like to meet with you the day after tomorrow, at the Admiralty,” Spencer said.

“I will be happy to attend you then,” Granger said calmly, even though he seethed with excitement. It was all he could do not to ask Spencer what he wanted right there and then, but that would be undignified and crass, and Granger was not going to commit those sins.

“Excellent. I will see you at nine o’clock in the morning.” Spencer stood, and Granger led him out of the Tower. He found Caroline waiting for him in their bedroom.

“I have been exchanged,” Granger announced.

“I am so happy for you,” Caroline said, and although she knew what that meant, that George would most likely be leaving her for the sea, she was truly glad for him, and glad that he would be able to ease his anxiety.

“I am to report to Spencer at the Admiralty the day after tomorrow.”

“I would suggest that we return to London tomorrow, after you have taken your leave of His Majesty,” she said. He agreed, and they enlisted Grayson to begin preparing for their departure on the morrow.

May 15, 1799

The Admiralty, London

George Granger raised his hat to the cheering mob, smiling woodenly even though he was not happy at being lauded by the public. This was a familiar pattern, and once it was known he was at the Admiralty, the crowd when he departed would be even larger. The people would hurl compliments at him, or pelt with him questions, both which made him uncomfortable. It was not part of Granger’s world to need, or to rely on, the adulation of the common mobs, but it was his duty to be courteous, and it was this politeness that won over the very crowds he did not like.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Granger said to the marine who, along with his squad, had cleared a path for Granger.

“My pleasure, my lord,” he said. “If it’s like last time, we’ll need more men when you leave.”

“We can always hope for a different result,” Granger said with a smile, then passed through the familiar doors. His heart was pounding, and his pulse was racing with excitement, but he gave no outward sign of this.

He approached the secretary, who rose and smiled politely. “Good morning, my lord,” he said. “His Lordship is expecting you.”

“Excellent,” Granger said, as he followed the man back to Spencer’s office. He had little enough time to glance at the waiting room, but the looks he got would be the same as he always received when he was at the Admiralty: Some were hateful and jealous, some were respectful, and some bordered on hero-worship.

“Ah, Granger,” Spencer said, and rose to greet him. “Welcome.”

When they were at Windsor, they were two peers of the realm on an equal level, but here at the Admiralty, their roles had changed again. Now George was simply Captain Granger, calling on the First Lord of the Admiralty. “Thank you, sir,” Granger said. He took a seat when Spencer gestured at the guest chair.

“We’ve been hoping your exchange would go through,” Spencer said, baiting Granger, making him wait for news.

“It has occupied my thoughts for most of the time, sir,” Granger said with a smile, one that made Spencer smile back in return.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” he said. “You’re familiar; I’m sure, with Sir Edward Pellew’s successes with the Indefatigable?”

“Of course, sir.” Everyone in England knew of Pellew, and how he had directed Indefatigable and her consort, the Amazon, in a fearless battle that had defeated and destroyed the Droits de l’Homme. With his two frigates, Pellew had driven the French ship of the line onto the rocks, and to her death. Pellew was the quintessential frigate captain, full of dash and luck, and one who always delivered results. That made him quite the celebrity in Britain. He had achieved amazing things with the Indefatigable. Granger, like most of the country, placed Pellew in the pantheon of frigate captains, along with Sir John Borlase Warren and Sir Richard Strachan. Only the rest of the country would also include Granger in that pantheon, even if Granger himself was not willing to grant himself that much credit for his successes.

“Sir Edward was promoted to command the Impetueux, of 74 guns,” Spencer said. Granger was aware of that, and was aware that Pellew had not been happy about it. He would have preferred to stay in his frigate. Granger had heard rumors that Pellew was furious when Granger and Bacchante were sent out around the world two years ago, as he had maintained that he had earned the right to such a great cruising opportunity. Granger had only encountered Pellew a few times, and had found him to be friendly but arrogant, and had found that irksome, since Pellew’s family came from somewhat common roots.

“If I am not mistaken, the Impetueux is part of the Channel Fleet, sir,” Granger said.

“She is,” Spencer confirmed, and then switched his focus away from Pellew and back to the ship. “We’ve had excellent luck with the Indefatigable.” Granger began to wonder if Spencer was going to give him the Indefatigable, but discounted that. Not only was Indefatigable a storied vessel, she was a very large command, due rightfully to one of the more senior frigate captains. In addition, she had just been given to Henry Curzon to command two months ago. Unless he had botched his short tenure as captain, which to all accounts he had not; it was unlikely that he would be relieved so soon.

“Yes, sir,” Granger agreed. Indefatigable was a very interesting vessel, having begun her life as a 64-gun ship of the line. When the war started with France, Sir John Borlase Warren had captured the Pomone, a massive French frigate, armed with 24-pounders. Ironically enough, he now commanded her, as the flagship of his squadron of frigates based in Falmouth. The capture of Pomone had sent a panic through the country, as people worried at what havoc the French would reek with these super-frigates. Logical minds mused that the British had discovered them by capturing one, so they were certainly not impregnable, but in the frenzy of war, people rarely grasped onto logic. In any event, the decision had been made to take some of the more outdated 64-gun ships of the line and razee them, or cut off one of their decks. This would reduce them in size to that of a very large frigate, one that could handle the big frigates the French and Spanish were building, and one that was more economical to operate than a ship of a line. So the Indefatigable was reduced from a 64-gun two-decker to a 44-gun frigate.

“Her fellow razees, the Magnanime and the Anson, have not received as warm reviews, nor have they wracked up Indefatigable’s considerable accomplishments, but they are considered to be a success,” Spencer continued.

Granger was of a mind to note that perhaps it was less about the ship, and more about the captain, but he had no desire to create issues with the captains of the Magnanime and the Anson, or to argue with Spencer unnecessarily. “I am glad to hear it, sir.”

“The Valiant was the final ship of the group that was considered for razeeing. That process was delayed until the results from the first three were evaluated. As those results have been favorable, the decision was made to go ahead and cut the Valiant down,” Spencer said. That made sense, since the last he had seen of Valiant, she had been in ordinary, rotting away at her moorings. It would be wonderful if an obsolete ship like that, one built as recently as the 1780’s, could be repurposed to still be useful.

“That would seem to be a wise decision, sir,” Granger said with a smile, being a bit cheeky.

“I assumed you would think so, since I’m giving you command of her,” Spencer said. Granger stared at him, absolutely stunned at receiving such a plum command. He had expected Spencer to appoint him to a frigate, probably a 36- or 38-gun vessel. It would be a bit of a slap in the face, after his successful voyage in Bacchante, to reduce him down to command a 32-gun frigate again, but he would have happily settled for that too. But to command one of the largest and most powerful frigates in the Navy was truly a flattering assignment.

“I don’t know how to thank you for your confidence, sir,” Granger said.

Spencer poured them both a glass of wine. “Your performance with Bacchante, and throughout your last voyage, was simply superb. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied, but his mind had already moved on to this ship he would command. “Can you tell me where she is, and what her status is?”

“She is being razeed at Portsmouth, by the same group that took Indefatigable down,” he said. Clearly they were hoping to duplicate their success with Indefatigable by making Valiant as similar as possible. “Her deck has been removed, so the biggest job has been done. It is up to you to finish her off, and get her to sea as soon as practicable.”

“I will do my best, sir,” Granger vowed. It was all he could do to restrain himself from charging out of the room and riding to Portsmouth that moment, so excited was he.

“I didn’t doubt that for a minute,” Spencer said, a nice compliment. “There’s the matter of her officers to deal with, and then you’ll be responsible for finding men for the crew.” Spencer said that as if it were easy, but as the war went on, finding experienced seamen became more and more difficult. Manning ships had become so difficult that many captains had chosen to crew their ships with Irishmen, and while they made for good seamen, some had become agitators for mutiny in concert with their struggles at home last year.

“I’m confident that I can pull a crew together, sir,” Granger said, trying not to sound arrogant. His celebrity status with the mob; his reputation for taking good care of his men; and the riches previous sailors he’d commanded had won on his voyages, notably his most recent one, usually brought a decent number of volunteers.

“Valiant is rated for a complement of just over three hundred men. She is to be assigned three lieutenants,” Spencer said. Finding men was hard, but finding lieutenants was easy, with many clamoring for appointments.

“Have you found officers for me, sir?” Granger asked, barely managing to keep the apprehension from his voice.

“My experience with you is that you usually want some input on that,” Spencer said with a grin.

“If you would be so kind, sir,” Granger said, smiling back. He’d vexed Spencer when he was commissioning Bacchante by stipulating that he be allowed to pick his own officers, and in the process he’d rejected some of Spencer’s picks, primarily because they were men who valued the force of the lash over real leadership, and because they had no musical talent. Granger had wanted to enjoy his time at sea, and had wanted his officers to be cultured and interesting.

“I’ve rounded up a few of your former comrades,” Spencer said. “Weston actually turned down a posting, choosing to wait to serve with you again.” Weston was a good officer, and good company.

“That is very flattering, sir,” Granger said, and it was. “He will be a good addition.”

“Based on your reports, you appear to be quite partial to Lieutenant Eastwyck. I’ve a mind to appoint him to Valiant as well.”

“He would be most welcome, sir,” Granger said with a smile. “I have found him to be a good leader, and very competent. He was quite useful in Paris.” Granger almost blushed when he thought about how useful Eastwyck had been. He’d expected to see a lot of the young man, but he had left London shortly after returning home, and had not returned, at least not to Granger’s knowledge.

“Lord Barnfield has also been hounding me to post him to your ship,” Spencer said. He had been known aboard Belvidera as Mr. Clifton, using his surname to avoid confusion, and was another excellent officer. “In order to placate his father, more than to make you happy, I have agreed.” Clifton’s father was a powerful Tory politician, one whom Granger spoke to often when he was in the House of Lords. He was also a friend of Granger’s father.

“You are simultaneously generous, and politically astute, sir,” Granger joked.

“That is why I have this job,” Spencer said, making them both chuckle.

“Lord Barnfield took over as first lieutenant of Belvidera, and performed superbly, even though he had limited experience. He will also be a welcome addition,” Granger said sincerely.

“I’m glad to hear you think so,” Spencer said.

“If memory serves, sir, Mr. Weston is senior to Lord Barnfield, who is senior to Mr. Eastwyck,” Granger noted.

“You are correct,” Spencer said.

“You have provided me with an excellent wardroom, sir,” Granger said, barely managing to hide how happy he was at being given officers he knew and trusted.

“Major The Honorable Robert Treadway has been selected to command your marines,” Spencer added.

“That name sounds familiar, but I am not sure why, sir,” Granger said, even as he searched his memory.

“He has most recently served in the Army. During the Quiberon landings, he quit his position as ordered, but by doing so, he exposed the flank of the entire army,” Spencer said, refreshing Granger’s memory. “The Army was forced to retreat, and it was Treadway’s action that many fixed on as the reason for our defeat there.”

“I am surprised that, if he did indeed do that, he is still an officer in His Majesty’s Army,” Granger noted. In other words, he was asking Spencer why he was saddling him with a man who was all but branded a coward.

“He followed orders,” Spencer said. “I am hoping you can teach him to not just follow orders, but to think about them.”

“Of course, sir,” Granger said, appalled that he’d actually questioned Treadway’s appointment, and thus Spencer’s orders.

“Look, Granger, Treadway is a distant relation of my wife’s, and but for this incident, I’ve been impressed with his intelligence. I think he made a mistake, but he is young, and I think he can learn,” Spencer said.

“I’m quite certain he can, sir,” Granger said, beating a hasty retreat from the conversation about Treadway.

“I also think that he was the easiest scapegoat for that whole botched battle,” Spencer explained. So when the dust had settled from the disaster that was the Quiberon landings, rather than blame the ramshackle French émigré army, or rather than blame the bungled planning by the British army, a major was singled out to be the sacrificial cow. But for his connections to Spencer, his career probably would have been slaughtered as some sort of pagan sacrifice to save those who really deserved the blame.

“I understand, sir,” Granger said.

“And there is a final piece of good news,” Spencer said. “We have persuaded your former master on Belvidera, Mr. Meurice, to assume that position on Valiant.”

“That is indeed good news,” Granger said. Meurice was, in Granger’s mind, an expert on ship architecture. Not only that, he was innovative, and had been the driving force behind the iron water tanks they’d used in Bacchante. “He has forsaken French ships for British ones?”

Spencer chuckled. “So it would seem.” Meurice had been a lieutenant aboard the Commerce de Marseilles when Granger had captained that ship back to England when he was still a mere lieutenant. Meurice normally found himself working with captured French ships.

“Sir, I’m not sure if you had a chance to review my reports on the iron water tanks we used on Bacchante, but I would like to continue to experiment with them, at my own expense, of course,” Granger said. It would be easier to get permission from Spencer than to grapple with the Navy Board.

“The reports were enlightening. You may continue your experiments, but you should be mindful that there were concerns about Indefatigable’s center of gravity; concerns that it was too low. I would be concerned that the tanks would merely exacerbate that.”

“We can certainly see if that is the case, sir,” Granger said, “but I do not think they weigh more than casks and the ballast they replaced.”

“You have my permission. Keep me apprised,” he said.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said.

“I assumed you’d take your doctor and your purser with you?”

“Doctor Jackson and Mr. Andrews have become almost indispensable, sir,” Granger said. “Thank you for posting them to Valiant.”

“I’m not sure whether you’ll be sent to the Mediterranean, the Baltic, or the Channel, but that’s as far afield as I’m probably allowed to dispatch you,” Spencer said.

“It will be nice to serve closer to home, sir,” Granger said, referring to his last voyage, which had taken him around the world.

“It will be nice to have you around,” Spencer said, smiling as he stood up, ending their interview.