Master and Commander - 21. Chapter 21

January 26, 1795

Granger sat in his cabin going over the various reports and victualing records spread across his desk. He tried to focus on them, to give them the attention they deserved, but he simply couldn't. He was too focused on what was coming, what was ahead. Calvert had been summoned to the Admiralty this morning, and there was only one possible reason for that: he was being transferred.

There was a knock on his door and he had a mind to ignore it, but caved to the inevitable. “Enter!” he growled. Fitzwilliam came in, looking sad and nervous. “What is it Mr. Fitzwilliam?” Granger demanded.

“Sir, I've come to tell you, uh, to request a transfer to the Zenith,” he said sadly.

He was losing another one of his officers? What madness was this? “You are not happy here?” Granger demanded.

“No sir, well yes sir, it's just that, well, I need to get out of London rather quickly,” he said. “It's an affair of honor sir.”

“An affair of honor Mr. Fitzwilliam?” Granger asked. Fitzwilliam began to really squirm now.

“I was with a young lady sir, and we got a little carried away and, well...” Fitzwilliam said, his voice trailing off. “Her brother is in the army and he's looking for me. To avoid a scandal and a duel, my father says I must leave immediately.”

“Well Mr. Fitzwilliam, Zenith is lucky to have you. You have grown into an accomplished young officer. You will be missed here,” Granger said.

“I'm so sorry sir. I want to stay here, I like it here,” the young man said sadly.

“Our paths will cross again Mr. Fitzwilliam. In the meantime, remember what you have learned,” Granger said. He stood up and gave Fitzwilliam a big hug, then patted him on the shoulder and walked him to the door. He went back to his desk and sat there alone, then sighed. Probably just as well to have Fitzwilliam gone if Calvert was to be gone as well. Remove yet another temptation. Yet he couldn't help but be angry at having his team broken up, this group of men that had been so successful. This time he forced himself to immerse himself in the paperwork, and actually got it done before another knock on his door yielded the event he'd been dreading.

Calvert walked in, his eyes teary. “I've been transferred sir,” he said simply. “It's a promotion, first lieutenant of the Zenith, 74.” He was talking steadily.

“I'm so sorry Francis,” Granger said as he stood and embraced this man that he loved. “I'm so very sorry. I will miss you.”

“I'll miss you too, George,” he said sadly. “These last few days have been heavenly though, so I'll always remember them.” Granger thought about how many times they'd made love over the past few days and knew it was almost too many to quantify.

“Fitzwilliam will be aboard as well. He's been transferred to the Zenith too,” Granger said.

“Indeed?” Calvert asked.

“It appears he fucked the wrong girl and her brother is after him. It was thought best to send him away as soon as possible,” Granger said.

“Well, we are leaving immediately. We sail on the evening tide, so I must hurry.”

“No time even for a proper farewell?” Granger teased.

“No time even for that,” Calvert said. “I love you George. I always will.”

“I love you too Francis,” Granger said, and then with one final embrace, one final kiss, Calvert was gone. Granger sat in his cabin and allowed himself to cry over losing Calvert. Calvert was more like a partner than anything, a man he'd shared his mind and his body with. To lose him like this was devastating.

Granger felt his mind going to a dark place, a bad, unhealthy place, a place where he wondered who was responsible for this, for this transfer. Who had schemed this up just to hurt him? Fox? Not likely. He wasn't influential enough to overcome the Earl. Spencer? He had bigger fish to fry. Calvert himself? Impossible. Or was it? Granger wallowed into these dark recesses, wallowed hard, and only with supreme effort was he able to pull himself out of his malaise.

“Pass the word for Mr. Humphreys!” he shouted.

Humphreys came in some five minutes later, looking slightly disheveled. “You sent for me sir?”

“Lieutenant Calvert has been promoted,” Granger said, forcing himself to smile even though he knew it looked fake. “You will assume the duties of First Lieutenant at once.”

Granger watched Humphreys struggle with this news. He liked Calvert, everyone did, but promotion was a good thing, both for Calvert, and for himself. “Thank you sir,” he said. “I will miss Mr. Calvert, nonetheless.”

“As will I Mr. Humphreys, as will I. It seems we've lost Fitzwilliam as well.” Granger explained the circumstances of his departure. “It seems you've lost your friend.”

Humphreys looked at him, his eyes wide, so deep had he buried his liaison with Fitzwilliam. “It was fun, but just a release sir, for both of us.”

Granger nodded. A release. That's just what he needed. “Quite so. I'll be ashore if I'm needed. It seems we're fully provisioned, we must only wait for our orders to sail.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said.

He took his gig to the shore and hired a cab, but not to take him home. Instead, the cab took him to the little flat, to see Jardines. He paid the driver quickly and scurried inside, not wanting to be seen, not wanting to be noticed, and then hustled up the stairs to the door. He stood there, staring at it, hesitating, until the lust and rage overwhelmed his reserves. He rang the bell and stood there, feeling like an idiot, feeling vulnerable. A manservant answered the door. Granger wondered where he'd been the last time he was here.

“I've come to see Major Jardines,” he said.

“Please come in sir,” the man said politely, with a smarmy smile on his face. “He's resting now. Would you like me to wake him?”

“That's quite alright. I'll wake him myself,” Granger said. The man just shrugged and went off into the other room, while Granger walked softly toward the bedroom. He opened the door to find Jardines lying on his bed, stark naked. The fire was blazing away, warming the room to a pleasant temperature. Granger allowed his body to warm itself after the frigid boat ride ashore while he took in Jardine's masculine form. He was on his stomach, his legs slightly spread, showing off his hole, and his taint, both liberally covered with his sexy red hair. Granger closed and locked the door and stripped off his clothes quickly, then moved onto the bed gently, lying on his own stomach between Jardines' splayed legs.

He inched up like a snake, alternately kissing one thigh, then the other, until he got to Jardines' taint. He rubbed his nose against it, smelling his pungent aroma, his smell that was such an aphrodisiac. He kissed Jardines' taint and then moved up to his hole, his nose guiding the way for his lips, until he reached his destination. Jardines moaned and pushed back into him, although whether he was awake or still sleeping Granger didn't know. Granger dove in with his tongue, working first the rim of Jardines' ass, then the hole itself, relishing Jardines' moves.

“Oh fuck yes, Arthur,” Jardines said, then turned to see Granger instead. He looked alarmed, and then got a huge smile on his face. “It's you. God, I'm glad.”

“You are eh? You were hoping for Arthur?” Granger teased.

“No, I was expecting Arthur,” he said as he rolled over, his huge, hard cock flopping against his abdomen. Granger took the head in his mouth and licked and sucked it, not the shaft, just the head, enjoying Jardines' moans, his reaction. Then suddenly, without warning, he erupted, and Granger found his mouth flooded with Jardines' seed. It was tart and tangy, not pleasant at all, but Granger swallowed it manfully.

Jardines pulled Granger up to him and kissed him. “The first load comes quickly. The second one will take longer.”

“Good,” Granger said. They heard the bell and Granger panicked. “I should leave.”

“Stay. It is only Arthur, and he will be thrilled to find you here.”

“He won't be jealous?” Granger asked.

“He'd much rather find you here than me. He's got it bad for you. But I think between the two of us we can show him a good time, don't you?” Granger grinned and went to unlock the door. A few moments later the door opened slowly as Arthur peeked in.

“Get in here Arthur,” Jardines ordered. Arthur scurried obediently over to the bed.

“George, I didn't expect to see you here,” he said softly.

“Shut up Arthur. You do what you're told. Strip off those clothes now!” Jardines ordered.

“Yes sir,” Arthur said. He took off all of his clothes, slowly revealing his cute little body. Jardines went to a bureau and took out some shackles and rope. Arthur saw them and his eyes bulged, as did his dick.

“On your back!” Jardines ordered. Arthur almost fell back, so urgently did he obey. Jardines took the shackles and attached one to each wrist, then the other ends to the bed frame. He did the same thing to Arthur's legs, pulling them apart into a spread-eagled position.

Granger moved up to him and ran his hands across Arthur's body, watching his little dick leak with the stimulation. Then Granger kissed him, their lips meshing, their tongues, and then their bodies. Granger felt Jardines' fingers on his ass and moaned into Arthur's mouth. “He's going to fuck me Arthur. He's going to fuck me,” Granger said. Arthur just moaned. Granger silenced him by kissing him some more. He felt Jardines' huge cock at his entry, felt him push in, felt him pierce his ring. He screamed into Arthur's mouth, not breaking their connection, panting into him, while Jardines started to fuck him with his massive dick.

Finally Granger had to break their kiss, moving his mouth next to Arthur's ear. “He's fucking me so hard Arthur, so hard. God, it feels good. Feels so fucking good!” Granger almost yelled into his ear. Arthur was so keyed up he didn't seem to care. Granger just let himself moan and groan in ecstasy as Jardines fucked him with his massive cock. Then he felt Jardines slam into him and hold still, hold totally still. He felt his massive cock throbbing as he shot his second load in Granger's bowel. Granger felt him slowly pull out, so slowly, until he felt the pop of his ring, shutting closed after Jardines was gone.

Jardines pulled Granger up and made him sit on Arthur's face. “Suck my cum out of his hole Arthur!” Jardines ordered. Granger felt Arthur's eager tongue on his hole, in his hole, and moaned again. God, he needed to cum. Jardines stood up in front of him and embraced him, kissing him while Arthur licked his ass clean.

Jardines moved down and undid the shackles on Arthur's legs, freeing them from the bed, only to reattach them to the other end of the bed. Now Arthur was on the bed with both arms and legs chained to the headboard, his cute little ass in the air. “Fuck him,” Jardines ordered.

Granger lubed himself up, lined his cock up with Arthur's hole, and pushed in slowly. Arthur moaned incoherently now, moaned loudly. Granger picked up on that and began to really fuck him. The angle of his penetration must have slammed right against Arthur's prostate, because he was really losing it. Too soon, Granger felt his own orgasm rising. Then he reached the point of no return. He slammed into Arthur now, slammed hard, and felt something behind him. Jardines slipped a finger up his ass just as he was about to cum, and that set him free. Granger literally screamed as he blew, slamming into a whimpering Arthur again and again and again. Finally, spent, he collapsed onto the bed next to Arthur. Granger couldn't move, he could only pant and shiver as he recovered from that massive orgasm.

Jardines had managed to somehow recover during the time Granger fucked Arthur, and there he was, standing there with his freakishly huge cock at the entrance to Arthur's hole. He sneered down at Arthur and slammed it in all at once. Granger could feel Arthur's whole body tense up, shudder at this penetration. His dick wilted with the pain of it, but only for a minute. It began to rise up again, and then throb as Jardines fucked him. Jardines must have gone on for an hour, or at least it seemed that way. Granger watched, fascinated, as his huge cock slammed into Arthur's little ass. Granger maneuvered himself so he could suck Arthur's dick, and it only took him a second or two before he was rewarded with Arthur's load. And what a load it was. Arthur came forever, wave after wave, lasting until Jardines had buried his own cock in Arthur and deposited his third load of the day into him.

Now that they were done, Granger found it disturbing that Jardines had tied Arthur up, but that faded quickly. Now, Jardines lovingly undid the shackles and lay down next to Arthur, pulling him to him in the sweetest gesture ever. Granger instinctively spooned up behind Arthur, sandwiching him between them, making him feel loved and special. They lay like that for the rest of the day and most of the night, a mass of three people that fucked and cuddled until they were physically drained but emotionally recharged.

February 4, 1795

Carlton House was brightly lit, as always, as Granger made his way inside. He had spent the evening with Caroline and his family, enjoying his precocious young son and new daughter, but he was too young and too vital to spend the whole night at home. Besides, his familial obligations were finally overcome by his lust. He'd spent much of his time either on Intrepid, or with Arthur and Jardines. Granger was starting to understand their relationship, how they could totally fulfill each other sexually but not emotionally. Granger could feel that when he was there, he added the other part of the mix, the emotional attachment, for it was quite clear to him that Arthur was truly in love with him. He analyzed his own motives, his own feelings, and came to the same conclusion he always came to. He cared about Arthur a great deal, loved him even, but Granger was not in love with him. Nor was he in love with Jardines. They let Granger release his sexual frustrations, they eased his pain.

Such as his pain could be eased. He found himself craving Jardines' massive dick in his ass, because when he was being fucked, he didn't think about anything else. He didn't think about Calvert. He'd learned that Zenith had been sent to the West Indies as well, so it was entirely possible that he'd run into Calvert when he was there, but it wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't have him there to share those beautiful nights on deck, or to snuggle up to for warmth on those cold, miserable nights.

“Granger, good to see you,” a voice said, pulling him out of his reverie.

“It is good to see you as well my lord,” Granger said to Spencer.

“I'll want you back on board and ready to sail in the morning,” he said. “Orders will be waiting for you on your ship.”

“Aye aye my lord,” Granger said crisply.

“It seems there was hope that the Dutch possessions could be persuaded to side with the Stadtholder, but it is not to be. War will be announced in the morning,” Spencer said.

“Then I will pay my respects to His Royal Highness and head back to my ship at once, my lord,” Granger said. Spencer nodded, dismissing him.

He worked his way toward the Prince, stopping to chatter to people he knew, frustrated at the same time that it had taken him so long to get to the hazard table. Granger bowed low to his future sovereign.

“Granger, you here to join us? Portland's been winning tonight, and we really can't have him keep all that money,” the Prince said.

“I must apologize, Your Royal Highness. I came merely to pay my respects and take my leave of you.”

“You're leaving again?” the Prince asked.

“Thank God,” the Duke of Portland said playfully. His son Frederick was Intrepid's newest midshipman. Granger knew the Duke bore him only good will.

“I fear I must leave, Your Royal Highness, although I fear His Grace has saddled me with one of his sons,” Granger said with a smile.

“See if you can do for him what you did for young Fitzwilliam,” Portland said. Granger had to restrain himself from saying “You mean fuck him?”

“I will do my best Your Grace,” he said. Then bowing again, he left Carlton House and headed home to pack up and head out to sea again.

It was late at Bridgemont House when he arrived; both of his parents had already retired for the night. Granger found Caroline in bed as well, only she wasn't asleep.

“I did not expect you back until late tonight,” she said, with a slight hint of bitterness that reminded Granger of how badly he'd neglected her these past few days.

“I am sorry to have been gone so much lately,” he said sincerely.

“You have your duty to do,” she said gamely, giving him a way out.

“And I fear that duty is to separate us yet again,” Granger said. “I am ordered to sail in the morning, so I must bid you farewell.”

“You are leaving already? But we have had so little time together,” she said, almost a sob.

“When I am next home, we will go out to Brentwood and spend time there,” Granger said. “You have made it into a beautiful home.”

She smiled at him. Then she grabbed him, pulling him to her, clinging to him for strength. Her closeness turned into passion, and they made love, urgent but sweet love. It was like a storm cloud broke, erasing the tensions and restoring the love.

“Do be careful,” she said.

“Of course I will,” Granger said. “But I must go now. Please apologize to my parents for me, won't you?” She just nodded. Then Granger left the house with his trunk of new uniforms, feeling a bit like a thief in the night.

February 5, 1795

Granger paced his quarterdeck. It was almost dawn, almost time to sail. The deck gradually got lighter and lighter, until he could make out the shadow of the foremast. “Mr. Humphreys, please call all hands,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” he said crisply. That was followed by the Bosun's whistles as they rousted the hands up on deck. They stood there, massed together, both for body heat in this frigid cold and to get closer so they could hear him. To his sides and behind him were his officers and marines, all looking at him expectantly. Granger swung himself up on the shrouds with agility.

“Men, we will be weighing anchor and heading to sea again. This time, we have a new enemy. The King has issued a decree declaring that a state of war now exists between England and Holland. Now we all know that's bad news for the Dutch, because though they are good sailors, they are no match for Englishmen!” That got a cheer. “And even though we have a few more men to fight, we'll also have more prizes to take, so keep a weather eye out for any Dutchmen you may see!” That got a huge cheer.

“Mr. Humphreys, we'll get underway at once,” Granger said. The mass of men seemed to convulse briefly as men fanned out to their stations. He saw a bewildered looking young man standing on the quarterdeck.

“Well Mr. Cavendish, you look confused,” Granger said. Cavendish stared at his captain, horrified. He had none of Fitzwilliam's arrogance. In fact, if anything, Portland's son seemed to lack confidence, afraid of doing anything lest he do it wrong.

“I'm sorry sir,” he stammered out.

“Mr. Lennox!” Granger called.

“Sir?” Lennox answered.

“Mr. Cavendish will shadow you for the next few days. He does what you do,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Lennox said. “Come along then,” Lennox said to him encouragingly. It was a good thing Cavendish ended up here instead of on a bigger ship. He'd have been completely lost there.

“Is there a problem sir?” Humphreys asked. He was another one who was a little nervous. Calvert had left big shoes for him to fill.

“None at all Mr. Humphreys,” Granger said cheerfully. “I was merely helping our new midshipman fit in a bit.”

“All thumbs he is, sir,” Humphreys said with a shake of his head.

“And I suppose when you joined your first ship as a midshipman, you were already an experienced and adept sailor?” Granger teased.

“I see your point sir,” Humphreys said with a smile.

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

“Very well. Loose topsails Mr. Humphreys,” Granger said. He watched the men set the sails with an expertise expected of the Royal Navy. He knew the other ships anchored nearby would watch with a mixture of admiration and disdain. Such rapid and efficient handling of sails wasn't necessary in the merchant fleet, and in fact, it was considered wasteful. It simply took too many men to achieve.

“Anchor's aweigh!” Carslake shouted. Granger felt Intrepid swing now, turning her nose downriver, letting the sails and current drive her toward the sea. She ceased to be a calm little ship at anchor. Now she was alive, vital!

“A point to larboard,” growled Barney to the helmsman. “You want His Majesty staring out and watching you smash us into that trawler?” Granger smiled, despite himself. It was good to be heading back to sea, away from London and away from politics.

It was a sunny day, beautiful but for the freezing temperatures and bone-chilling winds, but Granger enjoyed himself as much as if he was on a yachting expedition, watching the English countryside roll by as Intrepid negotiated the turns of the Thames. They passed the Nore, then Sheerness, and finally found themselves free of the Thames Estuary.

“Mr. Humphreys, we'll head down channel as soon as we clear Margate,” Granger said. “With this westerly wind, it will mean we'll have to thrash about, close-hauled. Any ship we sight we must stop and alert about the new war.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said.

“I'll be below if you need me,” Granger said. He headed below to his cabin and pulled out his orders. He was to head with all haste to Antigua, informing all ships and vessels there and en route of the state of war that now existed between England and the Batavian Republic, as the Dutch now called themselves. And he'd get to finally meet his grandfather.

Granger thought about that. They'd exchanged friendly letters, letters that grew in intimacy with each one until Granger had developed an attachment to this unseen man who had opted to live his life in the tropics. He hoped he wouldn't disappoint the old man, but pushed that thought from his mind. There seemed to be a connection between them, a bond that had already arisen merely from letters. Granger knew that his grandfather hadn't corresponded with Freddie, and that he and Bertie had only the occasional letter pass between them.

Granger heard the bustle in his dining cabin as Winkler and Jeffers got the cabin ready for dinner tonight. Granger liked to invite his officers to dinner the first night at sea. It was a good chance to put the land behind them in a positive way.

“Begging your pardon sir,” Winkler said, interrupting his thoughts. “The other officers will be here in ten minutes.”

“You are telling me that I should change?” Granger teased.

“No sir, I like you just as you are, but a clean shirt wouldn't be amiss,” Winkler teased back. Granger shook his head and put on his good uniform. It was important to look the part. The officers all arrived at the prescribed hour, dressed in their good uniforms, looking somewhat shy and uncomfortable in the presence of their captain. It dawned on Granger that Calvert had always had such a calming influence on them, on their gatherings, and without him here now, the tension returned.

“Welcome gentlemen!” Granger said cheerfully, determined to be a good host. Winkler and the wardroom steward brought out the food, loading up the table considerably. These men, all but Cavendish, knew Lefavre's cooking and dove in with their characteristic appetite. With wine flowing, gradually the environment became more relaxed, the officers adjusting to Calvert's absence. Granger saw Lennox whisper something to Cavendish. Cavendish looked at him horrified, and then swallowed, steeling his nerves. He grabbed his glass and stood up.

“Gentlemen, the King!” he said, almost too loudly. Granger smiled and stood with the rest of the table. “The King!” they said, and drank to the health of their sovereign.

“Last time we left England we were bound for India,” Granger told them. He saw the alarm on their faces. No one really wanted to go back there again. “This time our travels will keep us a bit closer to home. We are bound for the West Indies. Antigua to be specific.” He watched that sink in. The same fear of disease, but at least they were closer to England. “We are carrying news that we are at war with Holland, so we must make sure to stop every ship we find and alert them.”

“Most of the ships coming home will head north sir,” Carslake observed.

“That's correct sir,” Barney chimed in. “Once we pass Spain, it's all westerly traffic.”

“That's as may be,” Granger said. He knew what they were talking about. They were talking about prizes, and the next few weeks would be their prime opportunity. “We will make as much speed as we can to the West Indies.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said resignedly. No way was Granger going to beat around in the channel or North Atlantic just to pick up a prize.

“So last voyage, I was the only one with an instrument, besides your voice Mr. Lennox. Has anyone acquired any musical talent in the interim?” Granger asked.

They all shook their heads nervously except Cavendish. “I play the violin sir,” he said softly.

“Well that is excellent news Mr. Cavendish. Go fetch it, and perhaps we can accompany Mr. Lennox.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and dashed out of the cabin to get his violin.

“That lad is all thumbs,” Barney said.

“Yet he has better manners than some,” Granger said, glaring at him.

“I beg your pardon sir,” Barney said, sufficiently cowed. Granger got his flute and sat in the corner with Cavendish. They picked a popular ditty and began to play. Halfway through the first verse, Granger and Lennox stopped and just stared at Cavendish. He stopped abruptly too, then, conscious that everyone was staring at him.

“Did I play the wrong key sir?” he asked nervously.

“No Mr. Cavendish, you play so beautifully Mr. Lennox and I felt we would rather just listen to you,” Granger said. Lennox nodded and the others all shouted, “hear hear”. All thumbs indeed. This boy could play the violin like no other. “Please go on.”

So they sat there for the next hour while Cavendish serenaded them with his beautiful music. There was no more talk of him being ‘all thumbs’ now.

February, 1795

Granger stood on deck, wrapped in so many layers of clothing he felt like a mummy, waiting for dawn to break. He felt a sneeze rising through his sinuses, yet another damnable sneeze from this damnable ailment he'd acquired. God damn the shore and the diseases it brought with it, he thought bitterly as the sneeze forced itself out of him loudly, forcing him to remove his hand from the warmth of his coat pocket to snuffle it with his handkerchief.

“Did I hear gunfire?” a voice said. Doctor Jackson, trying to be funny.

“I fear as if I tried to blow my own head off,” Granger groused.

“After dawn, I'd like to examine you sir,” Jackson said firmly but respectfully.

Granger was about to argue, but realized it was inconsistent with his dignity. “As you wish Doctor.”

“Sail ho! Deck there, many sails off the larboard bow!” came the cry from the lookout. “It's a fleet sir!”

“Whose fleet?” Granger wondered to himself. They'd seemingly sailed right into the path of a fleet during the night. He looked around, getting his bearings. If the ships were hostile, he had a clear run for Portsmouth. They wouldn't catch him before he got there, and then he'd be able to lead the Channel Fleet out to meet them.

“Deck there! It's the Channel Fleet!” came the cry from above. He could relax now. The Channel Fleet must be on maneuvers, flaunting their might at the French who cowered in their harbors, still licking their wounds after Howe's victory last June.

He watched the massive ships of the line laboring in these moderate seas, sailing in line like so many beads on a string. “Mr. Lennox, make our number,” Granger ordered. Lennox had taken over the signals from Fitzwilliam as it was the job of the senior midshipman.

“Flag to Intrepid, Captain to repair on board,” Lennox said. “Flag is Royal George sir, Admiral Lord Bridport.” Hood's brother, mused Granger.

“Acknowledge,” Granger said. “Helm, two points to larboard.” Then he sneezed. “Call away my gig.”

“Sir, general signal, heave to,” Lennox said. Granger nursed Intrepid up to the lee side of the massive Royal George and hove to a mere cable's length away. It was a wet pull to her, and Granger wondered if this would be his death, the cold weather and this damned ailment. Still, he climbed aboard the Royal George spryly, making sure to salute the quarterdeck.

“His lordship is waiting for you aft,” said a lieutenant, who guided him there.

“So you're Granger,” Bridport said, gesturing to a chair. “My brother tells me you were indispensable to him at Toulon.”

“His lordship exaggerates, my lord,” Granger said with a smile. “If he didn't, he would not have sent me back to England.”

Bridport smiled. “So what brings you out here?”

“I am under orders to sail to Antigua with news we are at war with the Dutch, my lord,” Granger said.

“The Dutch?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes my lord. In January the French took Amsterdam and drove the Stadtholder out of Holland. War was just declared on the fifth of Feburary.”

“I have been at sea this past month with precious little news,” he said. “Well, you have your orders so I won't detain you. A good voyage to you Granger.”

“Aye aye my lord,” Granger said, and headed back to his boat, lamenting all the work it took for that short interview. By the time he returned to Intrepid his teeth were chattering while his body was damp with sweat.

Humphreys stared at him, worried. “Resume our course, Mr. Humphreys. I'll be below,” Granger said. He found his legs so weak he could barely carry himself down the stairs. He headed to his cot and collapsed into it, willing himself to fight this bad humor that had infected his body.