Master and Commander - 30. Chapter 30

May, 1795

Granger sat at his dining table eating with Hammond. Normally they'd invite others to join them, but they'd taken their afternoon sights earlier that afternoon, sights which told them they'd be off Cape May in a day, maybe two, so Granger thought it appropriate for them to discuss their arrival.

“Sometimes it is difficult to get London to understand the American psyche,” Hammond said.

“How is it different from ours?” Granger asked.

“It's full of hypocrisy,” he said, grinning. “They claim to hate the King and Britain, yet I would get nothing done if I attended all the events I am invited to. It seems as if the majority of Americans are Tories. They hate the aristocracy, yet they have their own, it just has no titles. Wait until they find out your father is an Earl. You'll be busier than I am,” he digressed, chuckling. “They are fiercely independent yet not strong enough to fully stand on their own. And in the end, everything, and I mean everything, revolves around money.”

“It sounds just like England,” Granger observed cynically. “They have not evolved quite as far from us as they had hoped, perhaps.”

“Yet their government is an interesting experiment. It will either succeed marvelously well, or fail miserably,” Hammond observed wryly. “But regardless, it is important that we heal some of the old wounds between our nations. That is my final job here.”

“How are you going to do that?” Granger asked.

“I have been working on what is being called the Jay Treaty, after John Jay, the primary American negotiator,” he said. “We have worked hard to negotiate a treaty to resolve some of our old outstanding grievances, and truth be told, we have a treaty that is more advantageous to us than to them. But what it does, most importantly, is remove the animosity and create a more productive relationship.”

“Has it been signed?” Granger asked.

“It has, but for a treaty to be binding on the United States, it must be ratified in the Senate, their upper chamber. It would be analogous to the House of Lords. It requires a two-thirds majority for approval. That has not been achieved yet, and I have pledged not to leave here until it is done.” Hammond said this with such resolve, a resolve so uncharacteristic of him, that Granger felt the importance he attached to it.

“Will this treaty bring them into this war as allies?” Granger asked.

“No, it won't. The Americans are still tied to the French, or at least the Jeffersonians are. You must understand that there are two different factions. The Federalists, with men like Alexander Hamilton, who favor close ties with Britain, and Jefferson's party, which wants close ties with France. They're the main impediment to this treaty, and they're raising Cain about it.”

“So this other faction, these Jeffersonians, they are lobbying for war against England?” Granger asked. That would make it difficult to be nice to them.

“No, all of them are unified in their desire to remain neutral. That way they can profit from dealing with both sides,” Hammond said sarcastically. “In any event, you will shortly see one of their biggest cities. I suspect you will feel the environment, the raw power and potential of this land just as I did.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Granger said. Then, finished with dinner, he went up on deck to make sure everything was in order.

“Sir,” Calvert said, approaching him. “We sighted a sail just as the sun was setting, heading due east. We couldn't see much, but it looked to be a brig. It looked like she was getting ready to heave to.”

An English ship, even a merchant, would never heave to for the night, not in this weather, with only moderate seas. Granger wondered if Americans would. He smiled, recalling his conversation with Hammond. Staying hove to would waste time, and that meant wasting money. “I would guess it is a French or Spanish ship,” Granger said. “Set a course to intercept the ship. You'll have to account for lee-way. I'll go consult with the ambassador.”

Granger found Hammond in his cabin, much as he'd left him. “We sighted a sail right before sunset. We are heading to investigate.”

“It isn't a ship of the line is it?” Hammond joked.

“No, in fact it's a brig. Our lookout saw it heave to right as night fell, and the only ships that I know of who would do that are French or Spanish,” Granger said.

“So what do you plan to do?” he asked.

“Sail close to her and ascertain her nationality. If she is French we will either sneak up on her and grapple, or launch a boat attack,” he said.

“Well, alert me when it is time to load my pistols,” Hammond said. He was an easy passenger.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. By the time he returned to the deck it was dark.

“What do you intend sir?” Calvert asked.

“If I knew whether she was French or not, it would be much easier,” Granger said. “As it is, we must first make sure she is not American. I doubt we'd be popular in Philadelphia if we attacked an American ship right outside of their capital.”

“I should think you're right sir,” Calvert said.

“You gauged our distance to her, and our time based on our current speed?” Granger asked, wishing he'd done it himself. He scolded himself. Calvert was just as reliable a navigator as he was.

“Yes sir,” Calvert said. “We should be up to her in 90 minutes.”

“Very well. Let's go ahead and clear for action as quietly as possible,” Granger said. “When we're about 15 minutes out, we'll reduce sail. We don't want to be too visible.” The sea was dark, as the skies were partly overcast, hiding the light from the moon and the stars.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Within seconds Granger heard the muffled sounds of the ship clearing for action. Some ten minutes later the decks were quiet as they finished preparing for battle. Now the waiting began. It seemed to take forever for the next hour and a quarter to pass.

“Mr. Calvert, let's take in the topsails and reef the mains,” Granger ordered. He had to admire this crew of his. They were so well honed that they could set or reduce sail almost silently, relying on each other to simply do their duty. Now Intrepid went forward, almost coasting. On deck, one hundred and twenty sets of ears strained to hear a noise, anything, in this dark. It was a shot in a hundred they'd actually stumble on the brig at night, but if not, at least they'd be in position in the morning.

A man scurried up. “Sir, I thought I saw the loom of something off the larboard bow!”

“Two points to larboard,” Granger ordered, and then dashed forward to see if the brig was out there. He squinted into the darkness, and there she was, a cute little brig, directly in their path. “We need boarders! Quietly. Cold steel only!” he said, and drew his sword. He gestured frantically to Calvert who came up to look, then hurried back to make sure they ran alongside her.

“Qui va la?” came the shout across the water, although not much of it. Granger felt himself sigh in relief. She was French. Intrepid had completely snuck up on these sleepy Frenchman. Granger didn't even bother to respond, and he heard the resulting pandemonium on the brig's deck as she called her crew. Intrepid hit the brig less than a minute later, slamming into her broadside to broadside.

“At 'em lads!” Granger cried and jumped over the side, landing on the brig's deck. He was followed by a horde of screaming British sailors. He saw the terror in the Frenchmen's eyes as they dropped their weapons and raised their hands.

“With me!” Granger said to Jeffers and Holmquist. He ran aft and down the short ladder that headed straight into the Captain's cabin. There was the master of the brig, still in his nightshirt, desperately shoving papers into a canvas bag, preparing to drop them over the side. He stared at Granger, then at the papers.

“Drop the bag and the papers,” Granger ordered in French. The man looked at him again, then down at his papers, then sighed, and dropped them on the deck.

“Take this man below. Make sure the rest are subdued,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Jeffers said. Granger carefully picked up the papers, and put them in the canvas bag just as the Frenchman was doing; only he removed the four-pound cannon ball put in there to make the bag sink. He took his bag and headed back to Intrepid, wondering briefly if these papers would be as interesting to read as those he'd found on Bon Frère.

“She's a merchant brig sir, carrying a full cargo of grain,” Calvert said. France was constantly fighting famine, what with most of her peasants off fighting in the army. “Only had a crew of ten men, the skipper and his mate,” he said.

“Let's see if there are any volunteers among the captured men. Have Hercule ask them,” Granger ordered. He took his bag down to his cabin while Calvert handled that.

“Well what do we have here?” Hammond asked.

“Papers, captured from the French vessel,” Granger said. “I will leave them in your capable care, Mr. Hammond, whilst I dispose of our prize.”

“With pleasure,” he said grinning.

Granger found Calvert on the deck, organizing everything. “So who do you think should command the prize?” Granger asked. “By right it is your honor.”

“Thanks sir, but I'd prefer to stay here and see America,” Calvert said. To stay here with you is what he didn't say.

Granger turned to Lennox, standing there with his eyes still glazed from the battle. “Mr. Lennox, you have command of the brig. Take her to Bermuda,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, his eyes wide with both excitement and fear. His first independent command.

“We'll stop in and pick you up on our way home,” Granger said casually, “but if another opportunity for passage presents itself, you should avail yourself of it.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said firmly. Granger shook the young man’s hand, noting the many emotions flying across his face. What a change from the boy who had come aboard last year. How he had bloomed! Then Lennox and his small prize crew were gone, taking with them tons of grain, their last estimated position, and sailing directions for Bermuda. Intrepid absorbed five of the Frenchmen into her crew, while she sent five others off with Lennox, so she was net the same number of men, save one well-liked midshipman.

“Secure from quarters, Mr. Calvert,” Granger said, then headed down to his cabin and found an elated Hammond.

“Granger, I'm going to make sure you get a knighthood for this,” he said. “Do you know what you have here?”

Clearly he did not, having just arrived in his cabin, and his tolerance level was fading with his adrenaline rush now that the attack was over. He paused for a second to contemplate that, how after even a victory his mood soured. “Pray enlighten me Mr. Hammond,” Granger said, hiding his irritation.

“These are dispatches from the French Consul in Philadelphia, Monsieur Joseph Fauchet, to Paris. This letter, this letter alone should assure passage of the Jay Treaty.” Hammond was beside himself, which told Granger a great deal about how important this was. He was normally so smooth and reserved.

“What is it?” Granger asked.

“A letter detailing Monsieur Fauchet's conversations with Edmond Randolph. He is the American Secretary of State, and a man devoted to the French Alliance. He has been a major stumbling block in improved relations between Britain and America. This will almost assuredly cause his resignation and will probably speed passage of the treaty through the Senate,” Hammond said, handing the letter to Granger.

Granger scanned it and could see what Hammond was talking about. Fauchet exhibited a contempt for America that was surprising, and made no bones about the fact that his source was Randolph. “Could he be lying about Randolph?” Granger asked.

“You must understand how diplomats communicate with their foreign offices. In this situation, Fauchet portrays a picture of a bumbling, inept country incapable of doing anything. If those in Paris are to believe his conclusions, he must be able to validate them, and to do that he must quote his source. Otherwise, it would merely be Fauchet's opinions, which Paris would certainly want, but are not nearly as valuable as the observations of the chief American diplomat, their Secretary of State.” He paused, engrossed in this diplomatic coup. “Randolph is one of Fauchet's staunchest allies, so he would never consciously betray him.”

“I am glad this turned out to be such an opportune capture,” Granger said.

“I want you to present this letter to President Washington personally,” Hammond said.

“Mr. Hammond, I am ordered to convey you to Philadelphia then proceed with all dispatch to London. I cannot possibly dither about in the United States,” Granger said.

“Do you think your presence in London is more important than convincing President Washington this letter is legitimate?” Hammond demanded. That was a bit humbling. Granger was guilty of arrogance on the highest of scales, thinking his presence in England was essential.

“Please forgive me, Mr. Hammond. I fear I am homesick. I will be happy to help out, but the letter is clearly authentic. I fail to see what I can do to add to that,” Granger said.

“It is entirely conceivable that this letter is a forgery, at least from the American point of view. If a British officer from one of the most powerful and noble families in England presents this letter and gives his pledge of honor it was captured legitimately and is not a ruse, the President will accept it as such,” Hammond said emphatically.

“They fought a war with us not more than 15 years ago to free themselves from our aristocratic tyranny, and you're telling me that I'll be the belle of the ball?” Granger asked. These people really were confused.

“There is no door in polite society that is closed to you,” Hammond said.

Granger shook his head then excused himself to head off to his cabin to rest, or at least that was his story. No sooner had he reached his cabin then he was joined by Calvert. They were so comfortable with each other now, so back in the habit of being together, that their bodies just flowed and merged together seamlessly. What a luxury, Granger thought, to have a lover like Calvert who could take his mind off his troubles and just make him feel like a man.

“You make me happy,” Calvert said, pulling Granger tightly to his chest.

“You make me happy too,” Granger responded, grinning. “Those papers we captured are quite valuable. Hammond thinks they may assure ratification of the treaty we've been negotiating with the Americans.”

“Surely that should get us a frigate?” he asked, grinning.

“You aren't happy with our little ship?” Granger teased, and saw the same expression of sadness on Calvert's face that he'd had when he thought about leaving her.

Intrepid lay hove to off the entry to the Delaware River, waiting for dawn so she could begin to ascend it to Philadelphia. Granger walked over to Calvert and greeted him warmly. “We will be ascending the Delaware today and get our first look at this new country.”

“I've not been to America before,” Calvert said. “It's a known haven for British deserters though.”

“Well, our mission is not to capture runaway British seamen; it is to deliver Mr. Hammond safely. We will leave that battle to others,” Granger observed.

“We'll have to watch the men though,” Calvert said.

Granger stared at him, almost offended. These men had been with him for so long now, had been through hell and back, and had made a decent amount of prize money as a reward for their efforts. He couldn't grapple with the idea that they would actually desert Intrepid, desert him. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, trying not to feel betrayed by a crew who hadn't even betrayed him yet.

Dawn found a cutter approaching them to deliver a pilot and, an even bigger surprise, a young officer wearing a merchant uniform. He looked to be in his mid-20s, with wide cheeks, a prominent brow, and dark brown hair. “Welcome gentlemen,” Granger said in a friendly manner. “I'm Commander George Granger of His Britannic Majesty's Ship Intrepid.”

The pilot merely growled and began rapping out directions on how to clear the navigational hazards of the Delaware. Granger left Calvert to deal with him. “I'm Isaac Hull,” the young man said in a friendly manner. “I'm a merchant skipper, but I came along with Jeb, the pilot there, since there really ain't much to do in port today.”

“Well I'm glad you could join us Captain,” Granger said. “Would you like to see our ship?”

“If it ain't too much trouble,” Hull said. “She don't look English.”

“She's not. She's French built. I actually had a part in her capture a few years back,” Granger said.

“I can't say as I'd be comfortable commanding a ship I captured. Wouldn't you see that as a kind of weakness?” he asked, scowling.

“Well, we captured her from Frenchmen. I can assure you that this crew would put up a stronger fight,” Granger said, getting a smile from Hull. In the end, weren't they all Britons? Why did there have to be animosity between these two nations that shared a common heritage and a common tongue? He treated Hull and the pilot to a superb dinner, and that seemed to change the pilot's mood a bit. Lefavre's cooking was like that.

Granger gawked at the scenery as they sailed up the Delaware. So much open land, deserted land, just waiting to be turned to the till. Here and there was a settlement, but nothing even resembling a city. Finally, as the afternoon went on, Granger spotted buildings on the horizon. As they came around another bend in the river, he got his first view of Philadelphia. A bustling city, to be sure, but to someone like Granger who was used to European cities, this one seemed so, well, new. And small. It was evening by the time Intrepid docked. The Americans had thoughtfully given her a secluded berth, probably so they could keep their citizens from burning her, Granger thought.

“I am leaving the letter in your care, and I've packaged up all the other papers for delivery to the Foreign Office when you return,” Hammond said quickly. “I'm off to the embassy, such as it is. In the morning, I'll send a carriage for you. You'll have a busy day. Dress nicely.” Granger rolled his eyes at that. He slept restlessly that night, feeling strangely vulnerable having docked in a country that was presumably full of people that hated England and everything it and he stood for.

True to his word, Hammond arrived bright and early with a carriage that was remarkably nice, considering the rustic atmosphere Philadelphia gave off at first blush. Granger had worn his good uniform, saving his best uniform for the balls that Hammond had threatened him with that night. “You have the ship,” he said to Calvert, who looked at him sympathetically. “You can attend tonight's ball with me.”

“I should be here,” he said, almost a whine.

“Mr. Calvert, your place is where I say it is,” Granger snapped. He apologized with his eyes and beat himself up for snapping at Calvert, and for snapping in general. His annoyance at the contemplation of spending a day socializing was bad enough, but to let others see it was inexcusable.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger took a second to pull himself together before heading down the pier to Hammond's carriage.

“Your arrival has caused quite a stir,” he said. “Not all of it good. Seeing a British man-of-war tied up to the pier has irritated some.”

“They are lucky you did not manage to obtain passage in a ship of the line,” Granger joked, practicing his charms and social skills.

Hammond chuckled. “Our first meeting is with Britain's staunchest supporter, Alexander Hamilton. You will find him to be a complete Anglophile. You must mention Court as often as possible, and even a small amount of flattery would be useful. His niece wants to meet you. She has been most insistent, so you should prepare yourself for that.”

The carriage took them down Market Street, the scene one of bustling commerce. Then they reached a large structure that Hammond explained was Independence Hall. Granger wondered how Hammond handled it, these constant reminders that these people were really nothing more than rebellious subjects of the King.

“This is New Society Hill,” Hammond said. “That is our embassy.” He pointed to a large house which they mysteriously breezed right past. The onlookers stared at him, not with hostility, but with blatant curiosity, probably wondering what this nicely turned out British officer was doing parading around their streets.

“How long until I can meet with President Washington?” Granger asked.

“Relax Granger. I promise we'll have you on your way in at least a week,” Hammond said, grinning at the impetuousness of this young officer.

“One week, Mr. Hammond. I am at your disposal until then,” Granger said firmly, trading seven days of hell for the certainty that he'd be allowed to leave after that. The carriage pulled up to a very impressive house and Hammond let him dismount first. They were ushered into a room and greeted by a man who looked to be in his 40s. He had a refined manner and sharp, pointy features, dominated by his chin which came down into a pronounced tip.

“Mr. Secretary, allow me to present the Honorable George Granger,” Hammond said, bowing politely, not subserviently. “This is Alexander Hamilton, former Secretary of the Treasury.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency,” Granger said smoothly, pretending he was at Court greeting one of his father's contemporaries.

“The pleasure is mine Commander,” he said. “I understand that you intercepted a most interesting letter.”

“I did sir,” Granger said. “It is my hope that it will help improve relations between our two countries.”

“I think it may do just that,” Hamilton said. “Mr. Hammond tells me you have been to Court recently?”

“I have been in the West Indies, so I have not been to court since February,” Granger said, which really wasn't all that long ago. “My father is a more frequent visitor to St. James Palace than I. I tend to spend time at Carlton House.”

“I hope the King and the Prince of Wales are aware of the fine work Mr. Hammond is doing over here,” he said, but that's not what he really wanted to know. Granger decided that exaggeration, or even little white lies, were allowed in polite diplomacy.

“I'm sure they are, and they are also aware of your efforts sir. It is from my father that I first heard of you. He told me that His Majesty appreciates your contributions to peace between our nations. He said you are an honorable man one can treat with,” Granger said, pulling things from thin air. He couldn't have hit Hamilton's vanity more clearly.

“You must thank His Majesty for me,” Hamilton said, clicking into the pattern of a British subject. Granger worked quickly to move beyond that before he realized it and felt uncomfortable.

“I will do that. Should your travels ever bring you to England sir, I should be honored to offer you the hospitality of my home in London, and take you to see His Majesty,” Granger offered. He saw Hammond trying not to grin.

“I must thank you for your offer,” Hamilton said. “You will have a busy day, Commander, and an even busier evening, but be aware that I will arrange for you to see the President as quickly as possible. In the meantime, we have kept your capture of this brig and the contents of the letter, nay, even its mere existence, a secret from everyone but the three of us. It is not for me to tell you how to conduct your business, but I must recommend that we keep things at that level.”

“I will say nothing to anyone else other than President Washington,” Granger said.

“Thank you. And now I need you to humor me,” Hamilton said.

“I am at your service sir,” Granger said.

“I have a niece who is ready to flay me alive if I don't introduce her to you. She claims to know you,” he said. Granger raised an eyebrow. He didn't recall meeting an American woman before.

“I have been at sea for a long time sir,” Granger said, remembering to flash his smile. “Female company is a luxury to be treasured.”

“I suspect you will not feel that way after you spend time ashore,” he joked. He rang a bell and a servant appeared. “Please ask Anna to join us.”

With indecent haste, as if she'd been waiting right outside, a young lady, probably only a few years older than Granger, came breezing into the room. “It is you!” she said. “You look so much older now!”

“Commander, may I present my niece, Miss Anna Hamilton. Anna, this is the Honorable George Granger,” Hamilton said ponderously.

Granger bowed low and took her hand, so cool in his hand, and kissed it in the same way he'd greet a lady at Carlton House. “It is a pleasure to meet you, ma'am, but you seem to already know me. Pray tell, when did we meet?”

She laughed coquettishly. “We did not meet Commander, but you certainly saved my virtue, and probably my life. Do you not remember stopping our vessel in the Mediterranean? It was some two years ago, and you came from your strange craft and saved us from the Algerian pirates.”

Granger smiled then, remembering that event, remembering that he'd been on Vesuvius with Travers at the time. “Had I known such a beautiful woman was on board, I would have expended even more effort on the task,” he said gallantly.

“As it was, you did plenty,” she said. Hamilton and Hammond looked at him curiously.

Granger turned to address them. “I was on board His Majesty's bomb vessel Vesuvius in transit to the fleet when we encountered Miss Hamilton's ship. The brig she was on was suspected of carrying contraband, so we seized her temporarily while we inspected her. There was an Algerian pirate who had other ideas, but since we had raised our colors over the ship, we had to defend them. I must formally apologize to you, Mr. Hamilton, for interrupting the passage of an American vessel,” Granger said with a broad smile. Hammond was beaming at him and how he was handling things.

“I understand Commander Granger. I suspect there will be other passengers on board that ship who may wish to meet you,” he said. Granger forced himself to smile while internally dreading the social whirl that was ahead of him. Still, Anna looked at him with that same look Caroline had given him. A woman who was hunting.

“I look forward to that, although my stay here must, of necessity, be brief. I am bidden to return to England, and I fear my wife would never forgive me if I chose to tarry,” Granger said, making sure that Anna knew he was married. That didn't seem to bother her at all. Granger put that out of his mind and wondered if his wife would choose to forgive him, period.