Master and Commander - 13. Chapter 13

July, 1794

In the three days since they'd battled Emeraude, Granger had managed to recover physically, his young body bouncing back from the excessive fatigue it had endured. And like her young captain, Intrepid had managed to recover as well. Her shot holes were repaired, her sails mended, her rigging checked, and her dead were buried.

Granger paced his quarterdeck and pondered the other part of Intrepid: her officers and crew. Her human occupants had not recovered so well. She'd lost nine killed in battle, and fifteen wounded. He'd pressed the crew of the brig, adding ten seamen to his crew, which offset the dead men, but it was the wounded that plagued Granger's mind. Four of them had recovered from light wounds and were back at work. Five more were up and about on light duty. But the remaining six were more severely wounded. Granger told himself fatalistically that he'd be lucky if three of them survived. Only he couldn't be fatalistic about one of them, about Calvert.

Granger saw Carslake come up and relieve Humphreys. “So how does it feel to be a lieutenant, Mr. Carslake?” Granger asked. He'd promoted Carslake to fill the void left with Calvert wounded. Then he'd given Barney, the brig's captain, the position of master. He'd proven to be a good, a very good seaman, and he had a deep knowledge of these waters.

“Fine sir. I must thank you again,” Carslake said. Maybe he'd end up like Bergland, one of those rare men who started on the lower deck as a seaman and ended up as a Captain. He certainly had the ability.

“You have earned it,” Granger said. “I will leave you to your watch while I go below.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger smiled. It was so exciting to find talented men and promote them, reward them. Hercule was another who had benefited from their action. He'd been promoted to Bosun's Mate. Such was the way of the Royal Navy. A man died, another one took his place.

“Good afternoon Captain,” Dr. Jackson said, greeting Granger as he entered the sick bay.

“Good afternoon to you Doctor,” Granger replied. His nose rebelled against the smells in here. It was truly putrid. Granger knew why, knew that smell. Gangrene. “I can smell it.”

“Yes sir, I fear we will lose Waring. His wound has become gangrenous.” Granger nodded sadly.

“I know you will make him as comfortable as you can,” Granger said. Jackson had been an absolute miracle worker. “How is Mr. Lennox?”

“He is young and strong sir. His wound looks to heal, although I doubt he's ever going to have full use of his left arm again. Too many of the tendons were cut,” he said. “I've released him for light duty and let him move back in with Fitzwilliam.”

“And Mr. Calvert?” Granger asked. He'd waited to ask about him last, not wanting to seem like he was only concerned about him, and not wanting to expose his true feelings.

“He struggles to heal sir. It is possible that there is something unnatural that has entered his wound and is preventing it from healing. We have taken to spreading vinegar on it twice a day, so that may have some impact.”

“Is it possible to move him?” Granger asked.

“It is. I'm not sure if it's a good idea though. The movement, the jarring of his stretcher, could hurt his wound. On the other hand, fresher air may help him feel better,” the Doctor said, clearly undecided.

“I've asked Winkler to clear out my day cabin. My thought was that as we sail further north and the weather improves, we'll be able to open the windows and let him enjoy the sun and sea air. But of course, I would not want to do so over your objections,” Granger said diplomatically.

“I think the positives and negatives balance out. It seems relatively calm today. I'll have some of my men move him shortly,” Jackson said.

“Thank you Doctor.” Granger headed over to Calvert. Seeing him like this, so weak, in so much pain, was absolutely heartbreaking. “Francis, it's me. George. Can you hear me?”

His eyes fluttered open. “George.” It seemed to take all of his energy to just say that.

“We're going to move you to my day cabin. It will be brighter, and the air will be fresher. But the move will be painful.” Granger waited for a response but got none. He turned to Jackson. “I will be in my cabin, making sure things are ready.”

“Aye aye sir,” Jackson said.

Granger headed up to his cabin to make sure Calvert's cot had been set up. Granger wasn't sure if this would work, if this would help, but it had to be better than sick bay. “Pass the word for the carpenter and sailmaker,” Granger ordered.

The two warrant officers arrived, looking confused. “Gentlemen, the sick bay is full of foul air. I want you to figure out a way to provide fresh air, a system to circulate it.”

“Sir?” asked the carpenter.

“Find a way to channel fresh air, like a breeze, to the sick bay,” Granger said. “Between the two of you, you should be able to figure out a way to do it. Dismissed.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said, confused. Granger had no great confidence in their mental or creative abilities, but it would give them something to do, and Jackson would appreciate that he was trying to make things better for the wounded.

His cabin door opened and he saw the men carefully maneuvering the stretcher into his cabin. They moved through to the day cabin, having almost completed their job without jarring Calvert, when Intrepid moved abruptly, hit by a rogue wave that changed her motion. One of the stretcher men stumbled briefly, and the stretcher slammed against the wall. Calvert screamed, an ear-piercing scream that seared through to Granger's core.

“Set him on the cot you idiots,” Jackson said, irritated. The bandages on his abdomen were turning red. The jolt must have re-opened his wound. Granger stared, horrified. “Run, RUN to the sick bay and bring my instruments and some fresh bandages!” They tore off, not even acknowledging the order.

“I need cloth bandages!” he said. Granger rushed into his cabin and grabbed a few of his shirts and ran back in to where the doctor was trying to stop the bleeding. “Rip them into strips!” Granger began to tear his shirts into shreds, handing the bandages to Jackson as quickly as he could. Winkler came in and just watched him, stunned, as he destroyed some very expensive clothing.

“We need more bandages Winkler!” Granger said, making sure not to sound panicked. Winkler nodded and rushed into the dining cabin and took out one of the older tablecloths and began to tear it up as well.

“Where are my instruments?” demanded Jackson, ironically just as his loblolly boy arrived with them. Jackson pulled the bandages away, and for the first time Granger could see the massive gash across Calvert's abdomen. It was so deep, the muscles were visible.

Jackson moved down and sniffed the wound, inspecting it, while his men gave Calvert some laudanum to put him out. “Give him more, knock him out,” he said. Then when Calvert was out, he took out his knife and began to carve into him. Only Jackson's knife, unlike the cutlass that had wounded him, was there to do good. Or to try.

“Captain sir,” Granger heard a ship's boy say. He turned to find that it was Gatling. “Mr. Carslake's respects, the flagship is signaling.”

Granger fought the conflict, the desire to stay with Calvert against his duty, and his duty won, as it always would. “Doctor, I will be on deck. I know you will do your best.”

“Yes sir. This may be a good thing. We will know soon,” he said.

Granger strode up to the deck, more distraught than he'd care to admit, more nervous then he'd ever let anyone see. “You sent for me?” he said to Carslake.

“Yes sir. The flagship is signaling,” he said. Carslake was a good seaman, a man he could trust with Intrepid in a full gale, but dealing with flag officers evidently terrified him.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam, what are they saying?” Granger asked, as Fitzwilliam looked up from his signal book, holding his translation on his slate.

“Flag to Rattlesnake, Investigate,” he said.

“Can you see Rattlesnake?”

“No sir, she's at the rear of the convoy. The flagship must be responding to one of her signals.” Fitzwilliam turned his eye to the flagship as more sails flew up her mast.

“Flag to Intrepid, close with Flag, sir” Fitzwilliam said.

“Acknowledge. Mr. Carslake, hands 'bout ship. Close the flagship,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” Carslake said. Granger watched him put Intrepid through the motions with an expert hand, turning her into the wind and charging back along the course she'd just sailed, tacking towards the convoy. “How close to Implacable sir?”

“I believe that the Commodore intends for us to pass within hail,” Granger said. Intrepid moved closer and closer to Implacable, until she was close enough to hear Fellowes yell through a speaking trumpet.

“Rattlesnake is investigating a sail. Take up position behind the convoy to relay reports!” Fellowes yelled. Granger waved in acknowledgement.

“Shake the reef out of the mains and the tops'ls, Mr. Carslake,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger steered Intrepid adroitly through the convoy to the rear of it.

“Can you see Rattlesnake?” he bellowed at the top.

“Barely sir,” he said.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam, signal the flagship. Rattlesnake out of range.” He watched as the flags soared up Intrepid's mast. Did Fellowes want him to tear off after Rattlesnake to help her out, or stay with the convoy?

“Flag to Intrepid. Take station astern of convoy,” Fitzwilliam said.

So Intrepid was to stay with the convoy. “Acknowledge. Mr. Carslake, turn us about and take up position a mile astern the last ship in the convoy.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“I'll be below if you need me,” Granger said, and rushed down to his cabin to check on Calvert. He got there just as Jackson was walking out of his sleeping cabin, wiping the blood off his hands and onto his already-bloody apron. “How is he?”

“I think he will start to get better now sir. Moving him, having him jarred like that, probably saved his life,” Jackson said.

“Explain,” Granger said simply. Jackson reached into his apron and handed Granger a piece of cloth. It was still bloody, Granger noted, as his hands turned red as he touched it.

“A piece of his uniform must have gotten carried into the wound. I thought I'd gotten all the foreign objects out, but I missed this one. It was fouling his wound, and causing mortification in the area. But now that I have removed the cloth and the pus, he should start to heal. Unless there are more fragments that I missed.”

“You were thorough?” Granger asked impatiently.

“Yes sir. It's impossible to be 100% sure, but I did my best. The light in your cabin was helpful. I need to get better lighting in sick bay so this does not happen,” he said. “I feel as if I failed him.”

“Mr. Calvert once told me that you are the finest ship's surgeon he ever met, and that if he was ever going under a knife, he wanted it to be yours. I share his sentiments. But you are only human Doctor, and we all make mistakes.” Granger watched Jackson take this rare praise and digest it as if it was nourishment for his depleted self-esteem.

“So much for his confidence,” he said bitterly. “I missed a huge piece of cloth.”

“In my experience Doctor, smart people learn from their mistakes. You realize now that you need better lighting, you will make sure that you add more, and you will not miss the next piece of cloth,” Granger said.

Jackson smiled at him. “Yes sir. Thank you sir.” And then he was gone. Granger put the piece of cloth in his pocket and headed into his day cabin to find Calvert sleeping. Granger sensed a difference in him, a strength in him that hadn't been there before. It was as if his body was now capable of healing the wound, and had re-energized itself to do just that.

Granger sat next to him and took his hand and kissed the back of it, just like he would to a lady at a party, then he kissed it more lovingly. He felt a tear flow out of his eye and wiped it away hurriedly, lest someone come in and see him. It wasn't a tear of sadness, it was a tear of joy, joy at not losing this man that he loved so much. Then he chided himself for celebrating prematurely, for possibly jinxing his good fortune. Calvert wasn't out of the woods yet.

It had been a week since Calvert's surgery, and he was recovering his strength quickly. The doctor was even weaning him off of laudanum. It seemed hard to remember when he could not even sit up, when he could not feed himself, so much better was he. It was a testament to his hardy constitution and his youth.

Granger strolled into the day cabin where Calvert was still housed and was greeted with a dazzling smile. “Good morning sir!”

“Good morning to you. Have they fed you yet?” Granger asked cheerfully.

“They have. Winkler fed me and then left me to my own devices. Apparently his overlord is most demanding,” Calvert teased.

Granger closed the door before moving over to Calvert and leaning down to kiss him. He ran his hand up Calvert's leg and smiled as the sheet began to rise with his erection. “What are you doing?” Calvert asked. Granger smiled at him and moved his mouth down to Calvert's hard dick and gave him a long, slow blow job. When he came, it seemed like gallons, so long had it been since he'd cum.

“You are my favorite nurse,” Calvert said with a smile.

“That is because I love you,” Granger said affectionately. There was a knock at the door, and they separated, returning to a sense of decorum, before Granger said “Enter.”

Fitzwilliam came in nervously, as a midshipman should. “I'm sorry to bother you Captain, Mr. Calvert. Mr. Humphreys sent me to tell you that the flagship is signaling.”

“And just what does the signal say?” Granger asked.

“I'm sorry sir. Flag to Intrepid. Captain to repair on board. Mr. Humphreys already acknowledged sir.”

“Very well. I will be up shortly. Call away my gig,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and headed out.

“I must go see the Commodore. I'll be back soon,” Granger said.

“Maybe he wants to send us home,” Calvert said.

“I rather think not,” Granger said, smiling. “Is that what you want?”

“No, I told you what I want. I want to float around on this little ship with you forever,” he said, and winked.

“I doubt that is in the cards either,” Granger said. “But in any event, I must make myself look more like a King's officer.” He went into his cabin and Winkler helped him put on his best uniform. The best blue broadcloth, glittering gold leaf on his shoulder board and around his buttons, cotton breeches that fit tightly as they should, the best silk stockings money could buy, and highly polished shoes with glimmering gold buckles. The only part of his ensemble that wouldn't bear close inspection was his shirt. He'd torn up his best shirts to make bandages for Calvert. But it couldn't be helped.

He headed up on deck. “I will be aboard the flagship. You are in command,” he said to Humphreys.

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said, the only thing he could say. Granger descended into his gig for the quick trip to the flagship, so quick he barely had time to clear his thoughts and prepare to see Fellowes. He climbed up Implacable's tall side and received the honors due his rank, and found Fellowes there waiting to greet him, a marked sign of respect.

“Captain Granger! Welcome!” Fellowes said. “Come below and join me for dinner.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said. “It will by my pleasure.” Granger followed Fellowes, admiring the form of the man, his masculine bulk, the way he even moved with authority. “I've brought my report sir.”

“Yes well, I'll have a look at it and forward it on to their lordships,” he said. “You lost over 10 men?”

“Yes sir,” Granger said. “I pressed the ten men from the brig to replace some of them. My first lieutenant has been wounded but looks to be recovering.”

“I'm sorry about that Granger. You've got an officer to temporarily replace him?”

“Yes sir. He's a good man, even though he's only an acting-lieutenant. Got on the bad side of a captain on the exam committee back in London,” Granger said. “I've promoted the master to acting-lieutenant in the interim, and I've given the master of the destroyed brig, Mr. Barney, the position of Master.”

“It sounds like you have things under control. If you want a more senior officer I can send you one,” he said.

“Thank you anyway sir, but we seem to be working well together. I would be most appreciative if we could approve his commission as soon as possible though.”

“When we get to Madras we'll see what we can do,” Fellowes said.

“Thank you sir.”

“In any event, that's not why I summoned you here,” Fellowes said.

“Indeed sir?” Granger asked. He wondered if Fellowes was just horny. He knew he was. He'd been just as celibate as Calvert, only he didn't get his dick sucked just a few hours ago.

“Rattlesnake sighted a sail, that much you know. I dispatched her to investigate and we have heard nothing from her.”

“Did Captain Bergland say what kind of sail he sighted sir?” Granger asked.

“No. He did not. But he is now gone, and I must reorient our convoy. I want you to maintain your position in the rear. I think you'll be more useful there, and you can round up the stragglers and save me the trouble. Keep your eyes open. If Rattlesnake reappears, I want to know immediately. Or if you sight another ship, I want to know.”

“Aye aye sir. If I see another sail, am I to investigate?” Granger asked.

“You will ask for permission first Captain,” Fellowes said authoritatively, then seemed to relent. “If you cannot, use your judgment. I have faith in you Granger.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said. “May I ask a question sir?”

“You may.”

“I was ordered to join your squadron and convoy the Indiamen to Madras. Once we arrive, what am I to do next sir?”

“It is not for a naval officer to question his orders,” Fellowes said, making Granger feel like he was a mere midshipman back on Barracuda and Fellowes was his captain.

“Yes sir. I did not mean to question my orders, only to ask what they were,” Granger said.

“I don't know,” Fellowes said honestly. “I am to escort the convoy back again in October. If there are no other instructions for you, I will take you back with me.”

“Yes sir. Thank you for telling me sir.” Granger watched Fellowes, saw the worry and consternation on his face, consternation at losing Rattlesnake.

“Yes, well you've achieved your mission, what you set out to do. You've destroyed the schooners, you've led their only frigate into our clutches, there's no reason for them to keep you out here,” Fellowes said.

“Yes sir,” Granger said, but didn't believe him. Where was Rattlesnake? And it was entirely possible that Bertie would scheme to keep him there in Madras. He was always self-centered, focused on only what he wanted. Granger doubted that had changed.

“It won't look good, arriving in Madras without Rattlesnake,” Fellowes said, thinking out loud.

“Perhaps not sir, but you have Emeraude, and she's a much better ship. Bigger, with 18-pounders, newer, and faster.” Granger said, trying to cheer up his chief.

“You are optimistic. I fear their lordships may not see it as such a good trade,” Fellowes said. “But here I am, thinking that Rattlesnake is lost. Bergland is a good captain, and he has a good crew.”

“Yes sir,” Granger agreed, and found that he meant it.

They had dinner, a good meal, but Granger had been spoiled by Lefavre. Some wine, a cigar afterwards, had relaxed Granger considerably, and relaxed Fellowes too. Granger looked at Fellowes and their eyes met. There was fire in them, fire in both pairs of eyes, the fire of lust. Without saying anything, Fellowes got up and led Granger into his sleeping cabin.

He kissed Granger, not with his usual fervor, but with a gentle passion. Granger responded, peeling his clothes off as they kissed, shedding his shirt, his trousers, his stockings, and his shoes, until he was naked and hard. He stood there in front of Fellowes, who was still fully dressed, feeling naked, vulnerable, and really excited.

Fellowes led him onto the cot and pulled Granger to him, continuing their lip-lock. Granger squirmed against him, his naked body rubbing against Fellowes' fully clothed form. Finally Fellowes had had enough, enough teasing, enough foreplay. He firmly rotated Granger so he was on his side, facing away from Fellowes. Fellowes slathered some lanolin on his cock and pushed into Granger gently, lovingly this time. Other than taking out his cock, Fellowes was still fully dressed.

Granger moaned and responded, moving back into him, savoring the feel of Fellowes inside him, of being fucked by this man. Fellowes plunged in and out of him, varying his speed, his angle, turning Granger into a blob of goo that was merely responding to the manipulations of his Commodore. Granger felt himself getting close, very close, and knew he was going to cum at any moment. Then Fellowes suddenly stopped. He left his cock buried in Granger's ass while he nibbled on Granger's neck, ran his hands lovingly over Granger's chest, his abdomen, and even outlining his dick with his fingertips.

Granger was putty in his hands, could merely whimper and moan, letting Fellowes control their encounter, letting him control their ecstasy. Then Fellowes began moving again, moving quickly, grunting as he did. Granger felt his balls rise and moved his hand down to his dick, more to catch his load than to bring himself to orgasm. And then he came, with a force he hadn't planned on. He thrust back into Fellowes as if begging for more of him, for all of him, and Fellowes responded, thrusting into him manfully as he shot his own load inside of Granger. Their mutual orgasm was intense, but strangely, it was not long. Afterwards, Fellowes got up abruptly and began to put his appearance back in order.

Granger took the hint and dressed quickly, making sure not to linger when it clearly made Fellowes uncomfortable, but taking care to appear fully put back together again lest the officers on Implacable see one of his garments out of place.

“Well Granger, you'd better get back to your ship. We'll meet again in Madras if not before,” Fellowes said, dismissing him.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, and headed back to Intrepid, feeling vaguely unsettled. He used the boat ride back to Intrepid to clear his mind. Fellowes was clearly agitated about Rattlesnake not returning. It was affecting not only his mood, it was affecting his body. It was as if as soon as the initial rush of ejaculation had waned, he let the tension flow back in, and that's what shortened their orgasm. Sir Evelyn was one of the best captains Granger had ever encountered, but Granger wondered if the stresses of higher command were more than he could handle.

He boarded Intrepid to find Humphreys still on watch. “Welcome back sir,” he said cheerfully.

“Thank you Mr. Humphreys. Anything to report?”

“No sir,” he said.

“We're to retain Rattlesnake's position at the end of the convoy. Our position would seem to be permanent now. Make sure we're a mile behind them, and make sure our lookouts keep a weather eye for any sails behind us. Sir Evelyn wants us there to motivate the stragglers as well, and save him the trouble.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said.

Granger peeked in on Calvert to see him sleeping peacefully. Winkler helped him out of his clothes and he headed into his sleeping cabin to take a nap. Sleep was a rare commodity for a Captain, Granger thought. Only there was someone in his sleeping cabin. Fitzwilliam was lying there under the covers, with only his naked chest showing above the sheets.

Granger was irritated, angry with the presumptive young man. Hadn't he made it clear enough that he was not interested in a sexual liaison? Hadn't he gone so far as to have his dick in the lad's ass and to then pull out and still refuse him? It was that blow job he'd let him perform, Granger thought then, damning himself and his lack of self control. Still, he glowered at Fitzwilliam and watched him shrink in fear.

“Just what are you doing in my cot, Mr. Fitzwilliam?” Granger asked, his anger showing through.

“I'm sorry sir. Mr. Calvert's orders sir.”

“What?” Granger asked.

“Mr. Calvert sir. He told me to wait for you, to, uh, avail myself of you,” he said nervously.

“Did he say why?” Granger asked.

“I confided in him sir, we were talking, and I told him how I had thrown myself at you. He told me that I should try again, that you may need to burn off some of your tension sir.” The poor lad was terrified. “I'm sorry sir. I'll get my things and leave. Please don't be mad at me.”

Granger climbed into the cot with Fitzwilliam and looked at him, his eyes wide in hero worship. So Calvert wasn't able to return his favors, to take care of him, so he sent Fitzwilliam in to do it. “One time, Mr. Fitzwilliam. This one time,” Granger said.

Fitzwilliam got a huge grin on his face. “Aye aye sir!”

Granger moved his mouth onto Fitzwilliam's and found that his kissing left much to be desired. Still he pressed on, working his mouth, trying to teach him as they kissed, but Fitzwilliam didn't seem able or willing to learn. Granger moved his mouth down his slim body, sucking on his nipples, flicking them with his tongue. Then he moved down lower, to his dick, about five inches long and thin, and took it into his mouth. He felt Fitzwilliam gasp and felt his dick erupt, spewing his load into Granger's mouth.

“I'm sorry sir,” he said.

“There's nothing to be sorry for. You're a young man. That happens.” Granger nuzzled his balls. “You want me to stop?”

“Not for anything,” Fitzwilliam said, pulling his legs back and exposing his hole to Granger. Granger moved his mouth down and licked his taint, but that's not what Fitzwilliam wanted. He did everything short of pushing Granger's head down to his hole, and when Granger got there and let his tongue run around the rim of his hole, Fitzwilliam let himself go. He moaned and thrust as best he could, begging Granger for more. Granger noticed that he was clean, so clean there was almost no odor at all, not even his scent, so thoroughly had Fitzwilliam prepared for this. He rimmed him for a long time, driving him nuts, letting him recover from his orgasm.

Then Granger rolled him over onto his stomach and dove back in, rimming him as he grabbed the lanolin and began to rub it on his hole, and in his hole. Fitzwilliam was ready for him, he was a pro now. Granger wondered if Humphreys was the only one to fuck him. He lined his dick up and pushed in. There was no resistance, Fitzwilliam wanted him so bad he welcomed him readily.

Granger began to move in and out of him slowly, maddeningly slowly. “Is this what you wanted?” Granger asked, taunting him. “Is it?”

“Yes!” Fitzwilliam cried softly, trying to thrust back into Granger but Granger had him pinned down on the cot with his hips. Then he began to fuck him, to really really fuck him, picking up his pace to the point where he was pounding him. He saw Fitzwilliam fight a scream and bury his head in his pillow, felt his ass quiver and shake as he came a second time, but Granger ignored that and just plowed on, focused now only on his own pleasure. It didn't take long. When he came this time, unlike with Fellowes, it was a long, steady orgasm. It was fun, but not even close to as intense as he'd enjoyed with Calvert.

When he was done, he moved out and off Fitzwilliam, letting him up. “Thank you sir. Thank you so much. It was all I dreamed and more.” Then he gave Granger a big hug and hurriedly put his clothes on, then practically fled out of his cabin. Granger sighed and sank into his cot, avoiding the wet spot where Fitzwilliam had cum, and allowed himself to sleep.