Master and Commander - 17. Chapter 17

October 1794

Intrepid tacked slowly through the harbor until she could tack no more, then Granger had to lower the boats and warp her to her anchorage. She followed Rattlesnake dutifully, looking like a duckling chasing after her mother. Granger was already dressed in his good uniform, his report in his portfolio below, waiting for the inevitable summons. He watched as Centurion grew closer and closer, along with her two consorts. Granger wondered how Fellowes was handling being contained here in this port. Probably not too well.

Rattlesnake found her anchorage and dropped her anchor. “Anchor Mr. Humphreys. You may recall the boats, although I suspect I'll need my gig shortly.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger heard the splash of the anchor, and then the sweaty men came pouring back on board, tired and thirsty.

“I think today should be bath day,” Granger said to Humphreys. “See what you can do about re-victualling.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“Sir, flagship is signaling,” Fitzwilliam said. “Flag to Rattlesnake and Intrepid. Captains to repair on board.”

“Very well. Acknowledge,” Granger said, and went below to get his portfolio. He came back on deck and went straight to his gig, then off to Centurion to meet with the irascible admiral.

He climbed the tall sides of Centurion and found Pascoe waiting to escort him aft. He'd gotten there ahead of Bergland, and found himself ushered into the presence of Flagg and Wilcox.

“I see you found the Rattlesnake,” Wilcox said. No welcome, just a terse statement. Granger expected no more from this man.

“Yes sir. I have my report here,” he said, proffering the document. Wilcox took it and put it on the desk with a disdainful expression.

“I will read it later. Tell me what happened,” he said. Just as Granger was about to start talking, Bergland showed up. “Let's start with you Captain,” he said to Bergland rigidly.

Bergland described his encounter with the Bon Frère, how he'd gone to investigate and how he'd subsequently gotten too close, and how her carronades had made short work of his ship.

“Were you cleared for action?” Wilcox asked.

“Yes sir,” Bergland said.

“Were the men at quarters?”

“Yes sir,” Bergland said.

“Yet you were still unable to fight a mere merchantman?” Wilcox asked. This man was truly incredible. He had been so long out of action he had forgotten what it was like to fight. Granger glanced at Flagg and saw him grimace in discomfort.

“We didn't expect her to be armed so well. She carried twenty-five, 32-pound carronades on each broadside sir,” Bergland said. Flagg looked up and Granger caught his eye. He understood. “I suspect her broadside was as heavy as Centurion's.”

“I don't want excuses from you Captain,” Wilcox said crisply. “In any event, you will have to stand before a court martial for losing your ship.” It was a mandatory event, but Granger felt incredibly sorry for Bergland. Few officers escaped a court martial unscathed. “We'll have to figure out a way to deal with this Bon Frère. She's a suspicious ship in any event.” So Wilcox was aware of her, maybe even onto her.

“Begging your pardon sir, but we destroyed Bon Frère,” Granger said.

“You destroyed her?” Wilcox asked. “How did you destroy her with Intrepid when Captain Bergland could not do so, not even with a frigate?” He glared a Bergland, who wilted under his glare.

“My sailing master had knowledge of her sir; otherwise our fate might have been the same as Rattlesnake's. He knew she was armed with only carronades, so we stood off her and bombarded her at long cannon shot,” Granger said.

“I've been trying to figure out what that ship was up to for a long time now,” Wilcox said. “Why didn't you capture her?”

“We did sir. But we had bombarded her for the better part of an hour before she struck, and she was in a bad way. We barely had time to evacuate her crew and her wounded before she sank.”

“You couldn't save her? It was too big of a challenge?” Wilcox asked snidely.

“No sir. Her timbers were fused together, and whole sections of her side were gone, some close to the waterline. A squall came up after the action, which caused her to ship water faster than pumps could save her,” he said.

“Did you not remember to get her papers?” Wilcox asked.

“I found no papers of interest on board sir,” Granger lied.

“Humph. So where are all these prisoners?”

“I exchanged them for Rattlesnake and her crew,” Granger said.

“You had no authority to do that. You exceeded your instructions by a vast margin. I am most displeased,” the admiral crowed.

“Begging your pardon sir, but my orders were to go out and find Rattlesnake and bring her back,” Granger said. “As you can see, I have done that.”

“Do not countermand me Commander,” Wilcox yelled. “You will find yourself serving as a lieutenant again.”

“Yes sir,” said Granger, but he was unconcerned. This mission had been a success, and he had enough dirt on the governor to get him to intervene if needed.

“I will forward your reports on to the Admiralty,” Wilcox said. “We will see if they find your excuses more valid than I do.” He stared at them. “The convoy leaves for England in two weeks' time. You will sail with it, Captain Bergland. I will retain Intrepid here in Madras. I need more small craft.” So that was to be his revenge, Wilcox's plan. He'd keep Granger here in Madras, giving him tough missions to trip him up then emphasizing his failures until he had ruined him. He reminded himself that Wilcox was due to be replaced, so it may not be so bad, but he longed to go home. He didn't want to get stuck out here.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, followed by Bergland. Wilcox studied Granger carefully, hoping for a reaction to his orders, and seemed even more irritated when he got none.

“You are dismissed,” he said curtly.

Flagg escorted them up on deck and to the side. Bergland left first as befitted his rank, then Granger's gig came up. “Between us, you did quite well,” Flagg said.

“Thank you sir,” Granger said. He descended into his gig.

“Back to the ship sir?” Jeffers asked.

“No, to the shore,” he ordered quietly. The boat hoisted its sail and began to glide across the calm waters, the slight breeze that barely gave them way was insufficient to dull the heat of this accursed place.

“Sir,” Fitzwilliam said. “The flagship is signaling. I think they want you to return.”

“The admiral just doesn't want me going ashore, but he neglected to order me not to,” Granger said, smiling at Fitzwilliam. “I think that if you look again, you will find that you are having problems reading those signals.”

Fitzwilliam grinned. “I do believe you're right sir.” They arrived at the dock and once again Granger found Lieutenant Bhapi waiting for him.

“I didn't expect a welcoming committee after arriving uninvited,” Granger said to him pleasantly.

“We saw your ship come in, saw you go meet with the admiral, and knew you'd be here next, sir,” he said.

“Well that was most thoughtful of you,” Granger said. The carriage whisked him to Bertie's house, the house built with ill-gotten gains. It seemed to make him unclean, to see this place, all these servants dressed in his family's colors, their badge.

“Georgie, you're back!” Bertie said and gave him a hug. Granger grudgingly hugged him back.

“I am, and we need to talk privately,” Granger said.

“No time for pleasantries?” Bertie asked.

“The admiral neglected to order me not to come ashore, and he is trying to rectify that as we speak. There will be a messenger here shortly,” Granger said.

“Then we must talk,” Bertie said, and led Granger back to his study.

“I sank your ship,” Granger said.

“And which ship would that be?” Bertie asked. Did he have more than one?

“The Bon Frère,” he said. He saw Bertie's face twitch a bit.

“She is a French privateer, not a British vessel,” he said obliquely.

“Most will believe that argument, I do not,” Granger said.

“You do not believe me?” Bertie asked with a fake pout.

“I do not. I know about your scheme, your plan to raid the Dutch merchants in the East Indies,” Granger said firmly.

“And how do you know all of this?” Bertie asked.

“Because before Bon Frère sank, I was able to retrieve her papers, including those locked in the safe.” Bertie was so disturbed at that it actually showed on his face.

“So what will you do with them?”

“I will destroy them, provided you give me three things,” Granger said.

“Go on,” Bertie said. If he had twitched before, now he relaxed. This had evolved from a prosecution to a bargaining session, something Bertie understood only too well.

“I want 5000 pounds. That's the amount of money I had to bribe Governor Quinssy to get Rattlesnake back.” Bertie stared at him. Was there a hint of recognition when he mentioned Quinssy? They'd be just the pair to dream up a scheme like this. In any event, Bertie seemed to be contemplating his demand. It was a great deal of money, but he could afford it.

“What else?”

“Wilcox wants to keep me here in India so he can torture me. I want you to send me home. Get the governor to draft a warrant sending me back immediately with vital dispatches.”

“Go on.”

“I want you to promise me this raiding on our allies, this dishonorable practice, will end as soon as possible, before you start a war with the Dutch.”

Bertie looked at him, studied him carefully. “And in exchange for these things, what do I get?”

“I destroy these papers and this whole affair is forgotten,” Granger said.

Bertie reached into his desk and pulled out some papers, then gave Granger a draft on his account for 5000 pounds. He could redeem it when he got back to London.

“Shall we go see the governor?” Granger asked.

“No, I will see him. Go back to your ship and make sure you're ready to sail,” Bertie said. He paused. “I did what I did for myself, true, but also for England.”

“That's as may be, but it is still a blackguard affair, Bertie. And it's cost a lot of lives, and probably Captain Bergland's career.”

“If I try to salvage Bergland's career, will you try not to hate me?” he asked. And then Granger saw the real Bertie, not the playful schemer the whole world saw, but the man who was still a little boy inside, who craved love and approval. Much as Granger wanted to, much as he should hurt Bertie, it was really just too cruel.

“Bertie, I don't hate you. You are my brother, and even though you do things like this, even though you throw your honor down on the table for sale, I still love you. You are still my favorite brother.”

Then something extraordinary happened. A tear fell down Bertie’s cheek. Granger had never seen either one of his brothers cry, yet here in India he'd seen Bertie break down twice. He pulled Bertie into a big hug, another thing they didn't do too often and just held him as he would a woman, comforting him. Finally he pulled away.

“I'm sorry George. I'll try and do better,” he said.

“I'm sure you'll do your best Bertie. You have a good heart, you just lack a moral compass,” Granger said with a smile. “You see, I have heard about your harem.”

Bertie smiled at him appreciatively. “And you did not get a chance to sample them. I was more than willing to share.”

“You got me an oil bath instead,” Granger said. Bertie raised his eyebrows and they both just laughed. A knock on the door heralded the arrival of one of Bertie's servants.

“I so sorry to bother you sahib, but there is navy man here to see Commander.”

“Show him back,” Bertie said. A spruce looking midshipman appeared then.

“You are Commander Granger?” he asked imperiously.

“You call me sir!” Granger snapped, glancing meaningfully toward his own single epaulet. Bertie glared at him as well.

“Yes sir,” the midshipman continued, abashed. “I'm sorry sir.” He'd probably been so focused on tracking down Granger he'd forgotten his manners. “Admiral Wilcox sent me to convey his order to you requiring that you go back to your ship sir. I am to inform you that you are to stay aboard unless you receive orders from the admiral to the contrary.”

“Thank you. Tell the admiral that I have received his orders and I will return to my ship immediately.”

“Thank you sir,” he said, relieved.

“You may leave now,” Bertie said, most ungraciously. The midshipman fled. “I will have your orders for England by the end of the day, so make sure you're ready to go. It really was good to see you again.”

“It was good to see you too, Bertie. Good luck.” They hugged once more, and then Granger left and headed back to Intrepid.

There were several boats around her as he approached, making Granger somewhat nervous until he realized they were loading stores aboard. There were certain advantages to being here in India. Whenever they came into harbor, their needs were immediately taken care of, thanks to Bertie. In the end, Granger had to walk across the deck of the barge carrying water to get aboard.

“Welcome back sir,” Humphreys said.

“Thank you Mr. Humphreys, it's good to be back.”

“All these boats arrived shortly after you left. We've loaded all the foodstuffs on board, the water is coming aboard now, then we're going to take the powder and shot on. We shot away almost half of what we had,” he said.

“We're a warship Mr. Humphreys. That's our job.”

He went below to the peace of his cabin. Calvert was well enough to move back into his quarters, so he had his day cabin back to himself. Calvert's wound continued to heal, and every day he got a little better. Granger smiled as he sat down on his sore ass. Calvert's recovery in bed was almost complete.

Calvert was on top of Granger, in Granger's favorite position, using the length of his cock to penetrate Granger while maintaining their kiss while they fucked. Granger felt euphoric, having his lover back and inside him, and feeling his body respond to Calvert’s gentle thrusts.

“I'm going to cum George. I'm going to cum!” Calvert whispered urgently in his ear. Granger could only moan incoherently as his own orgasm surged, his dick blasting his load between them while Calvert ground into him, filling Granger's ass. They lay there then, panting and smiling at each other, taking a break to kiss whenever their breathing would allow.

“I'm sorry to interrupt sir,” Winkler said, standing over them. Calvert jumped back and off of Granger, pulling his dick out suddenly. It made Granger feel empty and alone.

“What is it Winkler?” Granger asked nicely.

“Flagship is signaling. You're to go aboard.” Winkler grinned and blushed, then handed him a towel. “You may need this sir.”

“Thank you Winkler,” Granger said, ignoring his giggles as he left.

“What does the admiral want now?” Calvert asked.

“I'll let you know as soon as I get back,” Granger said, giving nothing away. He dressed hurriedly; making sure his appearance was in order. He shaved quickly, then headed up on deck and down into his gig. It was morning here, but it was already hot as an oven. A big muggy oven.

As they drew closer to the Centurion, Granger noticed another boat there, a huge barge, ornate and ostentatious. “The sultan's barge?” Granger joked with Jeffers.

“Almost sir. That's the Governor's barge.” Granger digested that. So Hobart was coming out here in person to make sure there were no problems. That told Granger how embroiled in this scheme he'd been. He boarded the Centurion and was led aft by Pascoe, as before. He found Wilcox's cabin crowded, with the Governor, Flagg, and the Admiral, along with the Governor's aide.

“Commander Granger, the Governor has seen fit to commandeer Intrepid to sail back to England with urgent dispatches,” Wilcox said with dripping sarcasm. “You are to leave at once.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said, having the good grace to feign some surprise.

“Your lack of cooperation in this and other matters has been noted Admiral,” Hobart said imperiously. It was a scary voice.

“I am not accustomed to having officials outside the navy interfering with my ships and men,” Wilcox said. Hobart glared at him until he added “my lord.”

“Well Admiral, they are not your ships and men, they are His Majesty's ships and men, and as Governor here, I represent His Majesty's government. So your blatant insubordination borders on treason,” he said. “I have never encountered a more difficult officer to serve with than you.”

“I must beg your pardon my lord,” Wilcox said insincerely.

“These are your dispatches,” Hobart said, handing Granger a packet. “In one hour, the mail will be delivered to your ship. After that, you are to make your best speed back to London. Is that clear?”

“Yes my lord.” He turned to leave when Wilcox stopped him.

“Before you leave, I have need of one of your officers. You have three lieutenants, one over compliment, while Rattlesnake, due to the incompetence of her captain, is short one. Transfer your senior lieutenant over at once,” Wilcox ordered.

“Mr. Calvert is still recovering from his wound sir, although he is nearly healed,” Granger said, knowing the battle was hopeless.

“Then he will recover under Captain Bergland's eye. That is all Commander. I bid you a good voyage.” Granger looked to Hobart briefly, but there was nothing he could do here. Granger felt his whole world falling apart around him.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, and then turned to Hobart. “It was a pleasure to meet you my lord. I will remember you to the King when I see him.” He wanted to remind Wilcox of whom he was messing with, and to leave on good terms with Hobart as well.

“It was a pleasure to meet you as well Commander. It is refreshing to work with intelligent naval officers.” Wilcox and Hobart just glared at each other, and Granger thought that a good time to exit. He maintained his appearance of stoicism on the way back to his ship, fighting back the sadness and the tears that threatened to engulf him.

He tried to focus on the bright side. Bergland was a good captain, and Calvert would definitely move up, assuming he was put into the first lieutenant's slot on Rattlesnake. Out here in the Indies, with opportunities galore, he could find himself promoted quickly, and maybe even get lucky in terms of prize money. But even as Granger rationalized it, he knew it was no good. Calvert didn't want to go, and he didn't want him to go.

He boarded the Intrepid in a somber mood and caught Calvert's eye. “Mr. Calvert, I need to see you in my cabin at once. Mr. Humphreys, we sail within the hour. They're sending the mail out to us. Alert me when it has been delivered.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said. Calvert followed Granger to his cabin.

“You're being transferred to Rattlesnake,” Granger said flatly.

“Why? Did I do something wrong sir?” he asked, his expression showing his hurt and anguish at this new development.

“No, of course not. You're the best first lieutenant in the fleet, you're a great person, and a great lover,” Granger said, smiling shyly. “Do you think I want this? It was Wilcox, trying to get back at me. It sure worked.”

“But I don't want to go!” Calvert objected, sounding like a child.

“I don't want you to go either, but orders are orders. Not even the Governor can intervene in such a matter,” Granger said. “You had best pack up, as we're leaving shortly.” A tear fell down his cheek then; he just couldn't control his emotions. This was too big. Calvert stood up to leave and Granger joined him, but instead, they embraced, holding on to each other tightly, savoring these last moments together.

“I'm so glad we had this morning,” Calvert said. “I will remember that on those lonely days at sea.”

“As will I,” Granger said, and then left Calvert to pack and say goodbye to the others. He sat at his desk, tormenting himself, blaming himself for this development. Calvert was right in the middle of Granger's feud with Wilcox. The admiral had picked the most direct way to strike back, but the blow he'd landed was much harder than he'd ever dreamed or would ever know. Granger stared at the charts, plotting his course home, his way back to England, saddened that he'd have to make it alone.

He toyed with going on deck to see Calvert off, but he knew he couldn't trust his emotions, not yet anyway, so he just secluded himself away in his cabin, trying to distract his mind from what was happening, trying to avoid the truth that Calvert was gone. There was a knock on his door.

“Enter!” he called. It was Calvert.

“I've got my gear together and I'm ready to go sir. The mail just arrived.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“No sir,” Calvert said, his voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you.” They just stood there, staring at each other, prolonging the agony, only knowing that it would be so much worse in a few minutes when Calvert was actually gone. Another knock at the door broke the spell. Granger and Calvert both quickly wiped their eyes, and Granger shouted, “Enter!”

Doctor Jackson walked in, looking very concerned, yet with a twinkle in his eye. What was he up to? “Sir, I have bad news,” he said.

“What is it?” Granger asked. What else could go wrong to make this the worst day of his life?

“We have three cases of fever. I just discovered them. They either got it here or perhaps in the Seychelles. Everyone on board will have to be quarantined for thirty days.”

Granger looked at him, trying not to grin. The doctor had figured out a way to keep Calvert on board. Granger wondered whether these men really had the fever, but he decided he'd wait until they were away to delve into it more fully. “Well Mr. Calvert, it looks like you are stuck with us,” Granger said. The three of them stood there, holding back their grins, until Calvert finally lost the battle.

“I never thought fever on board would be good news,” he said.

“Fever is never good news lieutenant,” Jackson said severely. “But I would rather suffer through it with you than without you.”

“Gentlemen, let's get out of this place,” Granger said, and pushed past them onto the deck.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam!” he called.

“Sir?”

“Raise the yellow jack,” Granger ordered.

“The fever flag sir?” he asked with a gasp.

“You heard me Mr. Fitzwilliam.” So the yellow flag rose up Intrepid's mast and immediately all the boats in the harbor diverted around her, especially downwind from her.

“Signal from Flag sir. Interrogatory.” So Wilcox wanted to know what was going on.

“Send: three men down with fever,” Granger ordered. They stood there on the deck, wondering what the Admiral's next move would be.

“Flag has acknowledged,” Fitzwilliam said.

“Make: Intrepid to Flag, permission to proceed,” Granger ordered. Now the tension was palpable. Would Wilcox make them stay? Would he risk Hobart's wrath?

“Flag to Intrepid: Proceed,” Fitzwilliam said with a grin.

“Acknowledge. Mr. Humphreys, raise anchor at once,” Granger said. There was a sense of urgency, the need to get away before Wilcox changed his mind.

“Anchor's hove short!” Carslake cried from the bow.

“Loose the topsails,” Granger ordered. He watched the sails drop from their yards, watched as the sailors sheeted them home, and felt Intrepid strain against her anchor.

“Sir, the anchor is foul!” Carslake shouted. Granger shook his head. Of all the times for this to happen, this was one of the worst. Anchors weren't cheap. The correct thing to do was to try and work it loose, but that would take time, and that is one thing they didn't have.

“Cut the cable, and be quick about it!” he ordered. Holmquist picked up an axe and used his massive form to swing it with amazing force, slashing at Intrepid's biggest cable. He watched the Swede slice at the strong hemp fiber, then finally there was a loud “snap” and the cable was parted. The ship moved then, a living thing, freed from her bondage.

“Get the mains on her!” Granger ordered as she picked up speed. The brisk breeze pushed her along more rapidly still, across the relatively calm waters of the harbor. “Royals as well!” he ordered. She could take the strain.

From the shore, Albert Granger watched his brother's beautiful little ship leave. He smiled ruefully. He was truly fond of George, and sincerely did love him better than Freddie, but he was glad to see him go. He was the only one who had been able to outplay him here in India, and he didn't have that much room in his heart for that kind of threat. No, his success was more important than anything, whether it be family or honor. Still he stared at the little ship until her royals vanished over the horizon.

On board Intrepid, the mood was positively gleeful. They cleared the harbor and it felt as if the whole ship breathed a sigh of relief.

“What course sir?” asked Calvert.

“South-southwest,” Granger said. “We're going home.”