HMS Valiant - 41. Chapter 41

March, 1800

HMS Valiant

Spithead

Granger’s eyes met Calvert’s, but that connection only sent his insides boiling. He floundered only briefly in the presence of this man that he loved, or at least he had, and summoned every ounce of reserve to act as if his former lover was not here to take control of his ship. Granger smiled, a fake gesture, one that got a nervous grin from Calvert in return, and just seeing that facial expression reminded Granger of the playful man and passionate lover that hid behind that façade. It had been easy for Granger to be mad at him, and to write him off when he wasn’t here, but now that Calvert was in front of him, all of Granger’s feelings for the man resurged. “Francis,” Granger said cheerfully, and stepped forward, extending his hands.

Calvert seemed relieved at Granger’s friendly greeting, a reaction which just illustrated how strained their relationship was right now, but he responded genuinely enough. “It is good to see you, my lord,” Calvert said, and took Granger’s hands in his. The physical connection was almost electric, shooting through their hands and up their arms. “I fear I have orders to relieve you, even though I have been cautioned that it is to be only temporary.”

“I cannot imagine a man I would trust more with Valiant than you,” Granger said. His words were sincere, because he truly meant them. Calvert was a good captain, and would watch over his men. Granger paused for only a minute to consider that Spencer and the Admiralty must have picked Calvert for this job to make removing him from command more palatable. They were clearly doing everything they could to mollify him.

“I will not let you down, my lord,” Calvert said, just as sincerely. Only that seemed to take them to another place, where Granger remembered that Calvert had, in fact, let him down. He’d let Granger down by discarding him for another man. And as if to emphasize that point, the other man, Lieutenant Gatling, pulled himself through the entry port.

Granger plastered his fake smile on; desperate to escape from this situation, but knowing that he must handle it with dignity and aplomb. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Gatling,” Granger said.

“Thank you, my lord,” Gatling said nervously. He did not have as much stoicism as Calvert and Granger in this situation, making his discomfort visible.

“Last time we met, you were commanding Santa Clarita,” Granger said to Calvert, but it was more of a question.

“We were ordered to help with the assault on Puerto Cabello, my lord,” Calvert said. “As Santa Clarita was built to withstand punishment, as it were, we led the squadron, and took the bulk of the fire from the batteries.”

“She was damaged badly?” Granger asked with concern.

“Enough that it was necessary to pay her off and turn her over to the dockyard,” Calvert said, almost a grumble. “I was sent home to see if I could wheedle another ship out of Their Lordships for service in the Caribbean.”

“Is that where they’re sending you?” Granger asked.

“No,” Calvert said. “Perhaps I can share my mission with you later?”

“Of course,” Granger said, since the crowded quarterdeck was no place to talk about their orders. He saw the rest of Calvert’s personal staff on the deck and noticed Donegal. “Welcome aboard. It is good to see you.”

“The pleasure is most assuredly mine, my lord,” Donegal said, with his smooth Irish brogue.

“With your permission, my lord,” Calvert said, truncating this reunion with a reminder that he must now read himself in.

“Of course,” Granger said. “Mr. Weston, please have the hands lay aft.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said. The whistles blew to summon the crew, and while they were assembling, Calvert greeted Weston, whom he knew quite well, along with the other officers serving on Valiant.

With the men assembled, Calvert pulled out his orders and read them aloud, orders from the Admiralty directing him to take command of Valiant. As of that moment, Granger ceased to be Valiant’s captain, and Calvert filled that role. Calvert read the orders with a loud, authoritarian voice, one that reeked of confidence. Granger pondered how much he had grown in his role as a captain, and had allowed those thoughts to permeate his mind to the point that he was almost surprised when Calvert was finished. “You may dismiss the men, Mr. Weston,” Calvert said as he concluded. “There are three lighters alongside and we must complete our stores at once. We are to leave on the morning tide.”

“Aye aye sir,” Weston said, and began belting out orders.

“Mr. Clifton,” Calvert said, interrupting him before he could go attend to his duties. “I have orders for you to leave this ship and report to the Admiralty.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said automatically. It made sense that Clifton would be singled out to remain ashore. His father was the Marquess of Hartford, and a powerful politician. That would also explain Gatling’s presence, to round out Valiant’s complement of lieutenants.

“My lord, I have dispatches for you as well,” Calvert said.

“Then perhaps you will allow me to show you to your cabin, and will indulge me by allowing me to review them there,” Granger said, putting on the façade of an expert courtier.

“I would be most obliged, my lord,” Calvert said. Granger led him into his cabin. “It is wondrously warm in here!”

“And that is due to a most ingenious and generous gift from Lord Cavendish,” Granger said. He couldn’t help but smile inwardly as he saw the mention of Cavendish make Calvert cringe with jealousy. It was reassuring, in a way, for Granger to know that he could still spark that emotion in Calvert.

“This is a fantastic addition,” Calvert said, smiling at it.

“There is one other innovation aboard this ship,” Granger said, and now he was talking as a captain to another captain, and the atmosphere changed as both of these men remembered their profession and not their love.

“Indeed?”

“Follow me,” Granger said, and led Calvert out of the cabin and down to the main deck. “These are reinforcements for the knees.”

“They are iron?” Calvert asked, even as he touched them. Granger watched his long fingers move lightly over the iron, noting how sensuous they were.

“They are,” Granger said. “I was skeptical about them, but Mr. Meurice was most persuasive. The alternative was to sail with bad knees.”

“Have they performed well?”

“They have,” Granger responded. “I would venture to say that devices like these will soon be standard fare in His Majesty’s ships of war.”

“That is saying something,” Calvert said, impressed.

“Mr. Meurice can fully brief you on the other aspects of Valiant, and how she sails, but I will share my impressions,” Granger said. They began to walk back to the cabin as Granger spoke. “She is not fast, probably as slow as Santa Clarita. But she has a special talent.”

“I would be obliged if you would share your knowledge, my lord,” Calvert said. His expression was intense.

“In foul weather, she is remarkably fast,” Granger said. He told Calvert how they’d escaped from the Spaniards when they’d been transporting St. Vincent home.

“Rumor has it that they are trying to persuade Lord St. Vincent to assume command of the Channel Fleet,” Calvert said with a smile.

“He was most unwell when I brought him back to England,” Granger said with concern for the old admiral. It seemed to be almost an act of murder to send him out to sea again.

“My understanding is that he is not only feeling better, but he is bored,” Calvert said. “It is thought he could effect some changes in the Fleet.” Granger almost laughed out loud.

“That will ruffle some feathers, I shouldn’t wonder,” Granger said, thinking of how the pampered captains of the Channel Fleet would react to St. Vincent’s disciplinary regimen.

“I expect it will,” Calvert said.

“And where are they sending you?” Granger asked, remembering that he still didn’t have that answer.

“I am to sail with the convoy to St. Helena,” Calvert said. “We are to patrol ahead and rendezvous with them near Cape Finisterre.”

“Perhaps what seems like a tedious duty will turn out to be fun,” Granger said.

“Perhaps,” Calvert said dubiously. “I will leave you in peace to review your orders.” Calvert handed Granger a packet, then left the cabin.

“My lord, we have your things stowed,” Winkler said.

“I must review these papers, and then I will go ashore,” Granger said, dismissing him. He opened the packet and found official orders, along with two letters. The orders were simple, merely telling him to relinquish command of the Valiant to Calvert and to report to London as soon as possible.

Granger picked up the letters. One was from his father, welcoming him home, and instructing him to call at Bridgemont House before he went to the Admiralty or spoke to anyone else in the government. Granger would have done that anyway. The other one was from Daventry.

My dear Lord Granger,

I hope this letter finds you safely sheltered in Portsmouth. I have taken the liberty of transmitting this with Captain Calvert, and knowing that he is not only a former shipmate of yours but also your friend, I am risking being more candid than I otherwise would.

You will receive orders to report to London immediately. I would recommend that you take a few days to recover from your voyage before you make that trek. You will no doubt find the city to be strenuous, so it would be prudent to arrive refreshed and rested. I am confident that a suitable guide will arrive to escort you to London. You should wait for that person to arrive.

You will probably be the only one surprised at how popular you are, especially after your latest exploits. I would expect you to be sent to London with a sizeable escort, and would recommend that you have some copper coins available to present to the populace.

I look forward most earnestly to seeing you as soon as you arrive in London.

Daventry.

Granger reviewed these two brief letters, and pondered the one from Daventry more fully. It was incredibly refreshing to get a communiqué from him at this point, when he was feeling alone and adrift as he lost command of his ship and dealt with his reunion with Calvert. Granger quickly moved beyond those feelings to the substance of the message. Daventry was telling Granger to delay his departure, and he was also telling Granger that he was supposed to create a great deal of fanfare when he went to London. Clearly it was important for him to cause quite a stir. Granger cringed in annoyance at that, at how he’d have to work to charm the teeming crowds. He wondered whom they’d send to escort him to London. Probably some Parliamentary hack.

A knock on the cabin door heralded the arrival of someone else: Clifton. “I came to take my leave of you, sir,” he said politely.

“I am glad that you did,” Granger said. He gestured for Clifton to have a seat, which he did. “I am sure you already know this, but I will emphasize it nonetheless. You must remain silent about our expedition to Rhodes.”

“I will of course do that, sir, although I would like to share this with my father,” Clifton said. His father was unlikely to have any connections to the Guild, but one couldn’t be sure.

“You may of course follow your conscience in the matter, but I would recommend that you seek out Daventry and ask his opinion first,” Granger said. It was amusing to see that actually annoy Clifton, the thought that he’d need Daventry’s approval to speak of this to his own father, but he shrugged it off quickly enough.

“I will attempt to locate him,” Clifton said. “I’ll start at the brothels.” They both laughed at that, and then Clifton stood up to leave, so Granger joined him.

“A safe journey to you,” Granger said, and clasped Clifton’s hands in his.

“To you as well, sir,” Clifton said. “I will look forward to seeing you in London.” Granger smiled and let Clifton’s hands go, and watched as the young man strode confidently out of his cabin.

Granger looked around, and felt the sadness overwhelming him as he realized he must now leave this place that he considered to almost be his home. He swallowed hard, stood up, and walked directly onto the quarterdeck. “I will leave the ship directly,” Granger said, stifling the emotions he felt. “Good luck, Captain,” he said to Calvert.

“Good luck to you as well, my lord,” Calvert said. Their eyes locked again, and said so much, but left still more unsaid.

“It is never easy to leave one’s command,” Granger said. “Their Lordships have made that much easier. I can think of no one I would trust more to replace me.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Calvert said, and seemed shocked by how sincere Granger was.

“Gentlemen, I hope to see you soon,” Granger said to his officers, and shook hands with each of them. Right before he went over the side, Calvert’s voice stopped him.

“My lord, I am wondering if you would mind if I called on you this evening.”

Granger looked at Calvert and saw the longing that was still there, the same emotions that he felt. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Captain, but I fear that your request is unnecessary. I have already explained that you are welcome to call on me, and stay with me, whenever the opportunity arises.”

“Then I will see you later, my lord,” Calvert said with a smile. Granger smiled back, and then lowered himself into his gig. As it rowed away, Granger was startled by a loud noise. It only took him a second to figure out that it was the sound of voices. He turned back and saw the entire crew of Valiant, lining the deck and manning the yards, cheering themselves hoarse for him.

Granger forced back the tears such an outbreak of affection from his crew had sparked, and raised his hat in response to their cheers. “Will we be going to London, my lord?” Winkler asked. It was an inappropriate question, for Winkler to presume to ask his orders, but Granger knew Winkler was just doing it to distract him from his emotional departure from Valiant.

“In a few days,” Granger said, and then addressed his entourage. “In the meantime, I am going to host you gentlemen to dinner.”

“That sounds marvelous, my lord,” Dr. Jackson said.

“I have invited Captain Calvert to sup with me this evening, and I’ll want to use the baths as well.”

“I will work with Jenkins to make sure everything is ready for Your Lordship,” Winkler said.

The boat arrived at the dock and deposited Granger’s party on the shore. Granger watched his gig row off, and then he focused on Winkler, Jacobs, Lefavre, Patton, Andrews, and Jackson. “Gentlemen, the crew of Valiant is being isolated lest they reveal the extent of our operations in Rhodes. You have been allowed ashore with me, conditional on my pledge that you would say nothing of that matter to anyone, not even close family members.”

They looked at each other. Andrews evidently decided he was the senior of them, so he spoke up. “My lord, if you have pledged your word on our behalf, we will not violate your trust.” The others muttered their agreement.

“Having received your pledges on the matter, it no longer concerns me,” Granger said with a smile. They strolled up the walk to the house, past the basin with its Greco-Roman fountains. There were a number of crates deposited by the pier, additional treasures from Italy and Greece that Granger would add to his collection here. The other chest of gold was being lugged into his home, and would be deposited into his safe, along with the jewels they had acquired in Rhodes.

Jenkins and the staff waited to greet him, and while Granger was polite, he was more interested in escaping to his rooms for some solace. He did remember to give the name of Jardines’ lawyer to Jenkins, and asked him to send a message asking the man to call on Granger tomorrow. Winkler came in only briefly to help him out of his dress uniform and into something more casual. And then, finally alone, Granger went out onto the balcony and stared at Valiant with longing. He took out his glass and watched Calvert, Weston, and the other officers direct the loading of stores. Granger tore his eyes away and looked instead at this house that was so beautiful, and so useful. There was an area alongside the walkway that appeared to have been recently excavated, and as it travelled the entire length of the walk and then vanished behind the house, it must have been a substantial project. He followed it to the end, near the pier, where a pipe was exposed.

Granger was glad to have something else to think about, so he strode down the stairs and found Jenkins hurrying to attend to his needs. “May I assist you, my lord?”

“I noticed a filled trench along the walkway, and was curious as to its purpose,” Granger said.

Jenkins smiled. “My lord, if you will permit me, I will summon Petrie to show you what we have done.” Petrie was one of the footmen, a young, strapping lad.

“Of course,” Granger said. Petrie appeared immediately, looking quite good in Granger’s livery, which did nothing to take away from his red hair.

“His Lordship was wondering about the pipe,” Jenkins said. “I thought perhaps you could explain it.”

“Of course, my lord,” Petrie said, almost stammering. “I noticed that the last time you were here and watered your ship, canvas hoses had to be assembled to bring the water from the upper basin.”

“Canvas hoses that leaked prodigiously,” Granger added, now understanding what they had done.

“I devised a plan to fit a piping system from the pool down to the pier, my lord, so that at least for that part of the journey, the water would have a more secure path,” Petrie said.

“Show me,” Granger ordered. He followed Petrie out, leaving Jenkins to attend to his various tasks.

“The pipeline starts here, my lord,” Jenkins said, pointing at a spot that was one of the lower points of the basin. “It extends down, along the house, to that spigot at the bottom.”

“That valve here is to shut it off at the source?” Granger asked, pointing at a large circular structure.

“Yes, my lord. There is another at the bottom, but this way, if there is a leak, or a problem with the pipe, we can close it off here,” Petrie said.

“And this was your idea?” Granger challenged.

“Yes, my lord,” Petrie said nervously. “I suggested it to Mr. Jenkins, and he corresponded with Her Ladyship for approval.”

“Well it is a marvelous idea,” Granger said. “You appear to be a nascent engineer.”

“Thank you, my lord, although I don’t think I have that much skill,” he said modestly.

“To develop skill, you require training, experience, and a general aptitude,” Granger said.

“Yes, my lord,” Petrie agreed, since he had no other real choice.

Granger pulled a number of guineas from his purse and handed them to a shocked Petrie. “To reward you for sharing your talents.”

Petrie was all but speechless, but finally got his brain to function enough to respond. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I am wondering if this upper basin will need to be enlarged,” Granger mused, remembering how it was drained almost dry when they watered Valiant.

“Begging your pardon, my lord, but I came to the same conclusion. I drew up some plans to accomplish that, if Your Lordship would like to review them.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. “I will make time tomorrow morning to go over your ideas.” Granger nodded, then went back inside to send a message to Calvert that he was welcome to use the basin to water the ship, and suggested that he discuss the details with Meurice.

After he had accomplished that, he sat down to host dinner with his staff. It was a lively and fun affair, even though Granger thought that they were working a bit harder than normal to try and make him feel better. Having them try to manage his moods was irritating, but Granger opted not to be petty, and instead focused on being a good host.

Meurice came ashore, and Granger detailed Petrie to familiarize with him with the new contraption. It worked quite well. After he had ascertained that all was in order, Granger retired to his room and allowed himself a rare luxury: he took a nap.

As the hour for supper drew near, Winkler peeked in on Granger and was of a mind to wake him up, but Calvert’s arrival time was not set, and he decided to let his captain sleep. The absence of a set arrival time turned out to be a liability, as no sooner had Winkler decided to let Granger sleep than Calvert arrived. Winkler went downstairs and greeted Calvert, eying him warily.

“His Lordship is sleeping, sir,” Winkler said formally. “I will alert him that you are here.”

Calvert smiled, and was a bit disturbed that his attempt to be charming had no effect on Winkler. “I would prefer it if you let me wake him up.”

Winkler nodded, and then led Calvert up the stairs to Granger’s suite. He stopped at the doors, and boldly faced Calvert. “Sir, I daresay that there are few people who know His Lordship’s moods better than I do.”

“I would suspect that is true,” Calvert said. He saw Winkler hesitating, and that frustrated him. “You may speak your mind.”

“The times when His Lordship has been the happiest, in my estimation, were the times when he was with you, and you were getting along,” Winkler said. He let his eyes bore into Calvert’s as he said that, then let that look linger for a moment after. He said nothing more, merely turned and walked away.

Calvert stared after Winkler, pondering his words, and then he quietly opened the door and entered Granger’s room. He had never been to this veritable palace Granger had built, but he was not focused on the décor or the features; he was focused on repairing probably the most important relationship to him. Granger was lying on his side, facing away from the door, but Calvert could tell he was sleeping. He shed his coat and his cravat, along with his shoes, so he was as casually dressed as Granger, then climbed into bed next to him, and spooned up behind him.

The physical contact woke Granger up; he stretched backward and turned to see who had so boldly climbed into bed with him. When he saw it was Calvert, he felt himself smiling. Calvert leaned in and kissed him, and Granger let himself go, let himself be absorbed into Calvert, connecting with their mouths, then their tongues. Granger yearned to make love to Calvert, but there was too big a wall between them to take things to that level. He broke off their kiss and lay back on his pillow, staring into Calvert’s eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me being so impertinent as to climb into your bed,” Calvert said.

Granger smiled, and then frowned. “I think that since you have chosen a new lover, it is impertinent.” He hadn’t meant to sound that bitter.

“So I must remain celibate, while you have other lovers?” Calvert asked, his anger rising.

“We are not talking about celibacy; we are talking about you falling in love with him, to the point where you would exclude me from your life.”

“I should have known those words would get back to you,” Calvert grumbled. “I should have known to keep my mouth shut.”

“You cannot hide the truth from me, Francis,” Granger said forcefully. “I could tell I had lost you when we met in the Channel, when I was returning from France.”

“You did not lose me, I was confused,” Calvert said, almost pleading.

“I have had other men in my life, and I have even loved them, but I have never loved them enough to reject you,” Granger said.

“I cannot turn my heart on and off as easily you do,” Calvert said. Their words got louder, as they vented their anger.

“It seems that you can,” Granger responded. “It seems that you have done that quite effectively. There is a switch in your heart with my name on it, and you turned it off.”

“George, that switch will never go off,” Calvert said earnestly. Granger grimaced, as they both paused to control their tempers. This was such a trademark of their relationship. They would argue and fight as passionately as they made love. Granger paused for a minute to actually appreciate the conflict, since it exposed some of the feelings Calvert used to have for him.

“You cannot love more than one man,” Granger said. “He makes you happy. Go to him.”

“You’re right,” Calvert said. “I cannot love more than one man, with one exception: you.”

“I know you better than you know yourself…” Granger began.

“No, you don’t. You don’t know me, because I didn’t even know me. I didn’t understand it myself, so how could you have figured it out?”

“You wanted someone who would be totally devoted to you and only you and that is something I could never give you,” Granger said, the sadness and bitterness coming through as he spit out the words. “So you searched until you found him, and then you jettisoned me as if I were useless ballast.”

“That is not true!” Calvert shouted. His volume served to calm them both down. They lay side by side on the bed, staring at the ceiling, saying nothing as they collected their thoughts. “I never demanded that you choose between me and the other men who have a piece of your heart.”

“That is because they only have a piece of my heart, while he has the whole of yours,” Granger said, not bitterly, but sadly.

“He does not,” Calvert said. And then Calvert knew what he had to do. As unfair as it was, he had to risk making himself miserable in order to save his relationship with Granger. “I can prove it to you.”

“And how can you do that?” Granger asked.

“I will give him up if you want me to,” Calvert said. “You are more important to me, and even though it would devastate him and hurt me badly, that is not close to the pain I will feel if I must go forward without your love.”

Granger stared at him and just blinked, his whole mind confused by Calvert’s statement. Granger frowned, wondering if Calvert guessed that Granger could never be that cruel. He felt like an ogre, demanding that Calvert and Gatling be miserable just so he could feel secure in his own relationship with Calvert. He was tempted to write this off as just a grand gesture on Calvert’s part, but then Granger looked in his eyes, and knew that it was true. “I do not want you to do that,” Granger said.

“If that is what is required, that is what I will do,” Calvert stated firmly. Granger recognized how hard this was for him, and the sacrifices he was willing to endure for Granger.

“I hear the words, and I know they are sincere, and that is enough,” Granger said. “I am sorry to back you into such a difficult decision only to erase my own insecurities.”

“And I am sorry that I gave you cause to doubt my love in the first place,” Calvert said. Then he kissed Granger, and this time, Granger did not stop him.