Master and Commander - 5. Chapter 5

April, 1794

Granger stood still on his quarterdeck watching the island of Madeira fade behind them. To all appearances, he seemed the typical, stoic British naval officer, but anyone who knew him would be able to recognize the fury that lay buried beneath the façade. Those people would recognize the slight red tinge of the skin on his ears, the way his nostrils flared a little wider, the firm set of his clamped-down jaw. But even if a person didn't know him, anyone who dared to look in his beautiful blue eyes would see the rage burning there.

“Mr. Calvert,” Granger said, and then paused until he had his attention. “I want all plain sail set.”

“Aye aye sir,” Calvert said, but didn't dare to smile.

“Helm, alter course two points to larboard. Due south,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” the helmsman said.

Granger glanced around, looking for something wrong, someone to vent his anger on, but there was nothing, no one. He was cursed with a ship that was too orderly, too efficient. He took one more look, hoping for an error, anything, but there was nothing, so he resigned himself to slowly pace the deck. It was good exercise, and it cleared his mind.

God damn Portuguese, he thought. They'd been so polite, and absolutely no help at all. They'd tried to foist stores off on them that were more rotten than the ones they'd jettisoned, and made it clear to him that HMS Intrepid was not a welcome visitor. In the end, they'd had to buy cattle and pigs from locals, and with no butcher able or willing to help them, they'd had to bring the live animals on board. They'd have to be butchered as they ate them, which made for great food. The men were ecstatic. But it also meant dirt and pests, and having so many animals on board would seriously impact Intrepid's fighting ability. In the end, Granger had allowed enough on board to get them to Tenerife, with a little to spare. This was a dangerous game he was playing; leaving them with no more than a two-week reserve of food, but there was nothing to do about it now.

He thought about Andrews and his smug looks. That wasn't fair. Andrews hadn't been smug at all. He was a good purser. No, Granger was irritated with him because he'd been right. If they'd have detoured into Gibraltar, they'd have been able to fully victual in the same time it had taken them to stop at Madeira. The only variable was the Straight, and those Westerly winds.

He paused in his walking. This was a dangerous mood, a dangerous time for Granger. This was the kind of mood that would lead him to do something inadvisable. He looked aloft at the sails and saw Fitzwilliam climbing up the shrouds, his cute little ass bulging out. He could call him down to his cabin and fuck his brains out, really give that boy a ride he would never forget. Or over there was the doctor, visions of his cute, soft, bubble butt flashing in Granger's mind. They were so tempting, so very tempting, but then he looked over at Calvert and those thoughts evaporated.

They were together every moment they could be, and Granger found he simply could not get enough of his first lieutenant. The man was an incredible lover, whether he was fucking Granger, or getting fucked by him, whether he was sucking dick, or kissing and cuddling. Everything he did was so smooth and sexy, it was intoxicating.

“Mr. Calvert, once you have trimmed the braces, report to me in my cabin,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Calvert said formally. The other officers looked at Calvert sympathetically, sure that their Captain was about to work his aggressions out on poor Calvert. That's exactly what Granger was planning to do.

Ten minutes later Calvert knocked on his door and entered. He knew what Granger wanted, knew what he needed, and followed him into his sleeping cabin. Their lips met, their mouths smashed together under the pressure of Granger's aggressive assault. Sensing his mood, Calvert turned and dropped his trousers, offering himself to Granger.

Granger took the lanolin and applied it gradually. He wanted to ram his cock right in, hard and fast, but Calvert wasn't an experienced bottom, so he took his time, not wanting to hurt this man who had come to mean so much to him. He felt Calvert loosen and could resist no more. He lined his cock up and pushed in steadily, enjoying the sounds of Calvert's soft moans. Then he was in, and he started to fuck Calvert. First slow, then harder, and harder and harder still, until he was slamming into him. He felt his pelvic bone crashing against Calvert's tight cheeks, felt him moaning and throbbing beneath him, and gave himself over to his own pleasure, oblivious to Calvert and his needs, only focused on his own. Then he felt his orgasm rise and he drove into Calvert, jamming his cock as far in as he could go, spraying his seed deep into Calvert’s bowel in an orgasm that lasted forever.

Calvert turned around then and Granger could see the ambivalence in his eyes, the sadness at being used as a release valve, but also the joy of making Granger feel better. Granger felt the guilt overwhelm him then as he pulled Calvert to him and kissed him, lovingly now, determined to make up for his actions. He knelt in front of Calvert and took his hard cock into his mouth, and sucked him with all the skill he could until Calvert shot his load, moaning softly as he did.

“Thanks,” Calvert said.

“I'm sorry Francis,” Granger said. “I shouldn't have been so rough.”

“I think you needed that. Besides, it was fun in its own way,” he said. “I'd do anything for you, you know that don't you?”

“I know,” Granger said. “I just didn't mean to take advantage of you.”

“Well you can make it up to me later on,” he said.

“You don't like it when I fuck you, do you?” Granger asked.

“I do,” Calvert objected. “Sometimes. I like it when I'm in the mood, and when I'm feeling kind of...well...” This was clearly embarrassing him.

“Feeling kind of what?” Granger asked as he held Calvert and kissed his cheek, and nibbled his ear.

Calvert swallowed. “Kind of vulnerable.” Granger understood then. For Calvert to allow a dick in his ass, he had to feel a lot of trust, and a lot of love. A raw fuck like they'd just experienced would be a traumatic experience for him.

“I'm so sorry Francis. I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you,” Granger cooed into his ear. He was almost crying.

Calvert pulled him away so their eyes met. “George, look at me, look in my eyes. It was fine. I liked it. You needed me, I was there, and it was good. Don't you understand?”

“No,” Granger said sadly. “I feel like I just raped you.”

Calvert laughed, pissing Granger off. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. You can put anything you want into any orifice I have and I'll like it. Really.”

“I'll have to go find some of that five inch cable and see how you do with that,” Granger teased, then kissed him.

“If it made you happy, I'd do it,” he said. “I, uh…” He stopped what he was going to say.

“What?” Granger asked.

“I need to go back on deck. I have the next watch,” he said, clearly not what he was planning to say.

“Will you dine with me afterward?” Granger asked.

“Of course,” he said. “With pleasure. Will you invite the other officers?” That was a deft reminder that he needed to include them.

“I will tell Lefavre,” Granger said. He kissed Calvert again, and it got more and more passionate.

“I really should go,” Calvert said softly into his ear.

“No. No. Stay. Make love to me,” Granger said as he pulled his breeches back down. He took Calvert's hand and put it on his ass, pushing it into his crack and to his hole. “Make love to me.”

Then Calvert's trousers were down and he spun Granger around. He knew that Granger didn't need near the amount of foreplay that he did, but he did make sure he was lubed. Granger felt Calvert pushing into him, and took his huge dick readily, willingly. “God, George, I love being with you, being one with you like this,” Calvert said. Then he gave himself over to his passion, only unlike Granger, Calvert made sure Granger enjoyed it, and worked his magical dick in a way that almost brought Granger off alone, but finished him off with his hand.

“George, you need to know something,” Calvert said as they redressed again. Granger looked at him, paying full attention. “I'm falling in love with you.”

Granger stared at him, dumbfounded. He didn't know what to say. He knew he loved Travers, and he knew he loved Caroline, but did he love Calvert? Calvert stood there, waiting for an answer, but when he didn't get one, he turned and fled, heading back up on deck. Granger sat on his cot, then lay on it, taking a rare opportunity for a nap, and a chance to drown his conflict in the numbness of sleep.

Dinner was pleasant, except for Calvert. Granger could feel the tension between them, the huge elephant in the room. He could tell by the way that Calvert avoided his eyes, the way he was much more formal than normal, that he had hurt him. But he just wasn't sure if his feelings were where Calvert's were, and he didn't want to lie to him.

Afterward, Granger passed cigars around and they were entertained by their two midshipmen, who both had good voices. They sang several duets, and the activity over his skylight told Granger that the crew members were hovering around to listen. Lennox, with his prepubescent high voice, and Fitzwilliam, with his voice that was so much lower, made a perfect duo.

“That was a very nice song,” Granger said, smiling at both of them.

“Thank you sir,” Fitzwilliam said, being slightly senior.

“I have the watch, if you'll excuse me sir,” Calvert said, breaking up their party. Granger waited until they had all left and then went on deck to enjoy the fresh night air, and to see Calvert.

“Walk with me Mr. Calvert,” Granger said. Calvert had no choice now. That was as good as an order. “You are mad at me.”

“No sir, I'm not mad at you. I'm just a little sad. It's OK if you don't feel the same way I do. It's my fault for thinking that you did. I guess I was dreaming, not thinking realistically,” he said.

“I didn't say that I didn't feel the same way you did,” Granger said. “The truth is, I don't know how I feel.”

“Maybe we shouldn't spend so much off-watch time together sir,” Calvert said. “Maybe some space will give you time to figure it out.” Calvert had a hard time hiding his bitterness.

“Is that what you want?” Granger asked. Calvert didn't answer, which told Granger more than if he'd given him an answer. It was incredibly beautiful out here on deck. A clear sky, a light breeze, a full moon; a night made for romance. The little ship plowed along ambitiously, the small waves giving her a small motion. This should be paradise, this should be a dream come true for both of them.

“I have very strong feelings for you,” Granger said. “I just don't know if it's love. I'm confused. There are two other people in my life that I do love, but they're not here, and the thing that is most important to me is to be honest with you.”

“I appreciate that sir,” Calvert said. “You said there were two people? I know about your wife.”

“There's another man,” Granger said as they paced. “I love him. But he's in the Mediterranean, on a ship with his former lover.”

“So if you can love two people, can you love three?” Calvert asked.

“I think so, but I'm working it out,” Granger said. “You know, you told me that as far as your career goes, you lived for today, enjoying where you are, what you're doing. Yet with us, you seem like you want to drive forward. I'm kind of where you are in your career. I'm enjoying you so much, and you are already a great friend. Why do we have to look to that next place?”

“You are hanging me with my own rope,” Calvert said, smiling. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about. I want you to be honest with me, and I will be honest with you.” Granger paused. “You're off watch in three hours?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Will I see you?” Granger asked.

“I'm thinking maybe I should get some rest, if that's OK with you sir.”

“Enjoy your night Mr. Calvert. I will see you at dawn.”

Granger went down to his cabin and stripped off his clothes with Winkler's help and collapsed into his cot. He lay on this back with his hands behind his head. Did he love Calvert? Probably not. Could he? Definitely. But this whole thing, this focus on feelings, and on love, had spooked him. Granger smiled to himself. If Calvert had waited two more weeks to spring this on him, he'd probably have gotten an entirely different answer. He rolled over onto his side and fell asleep, one of the most precious commodities a Captain had.

There was a movement in his bunk and he felt someone crawl in behind him and spoon up to him. “I changed my mind,” Calvert said. “Is that OK?” Granger just moaned and pushed back into Calvert, wanting to feel him inside, wanting to connect to him, with him. Calvert entered him smoothly and made love to him slowly, running his hands all over Granger's body, his mouth working on Granger's neck and his ear. Granger pulled away, removing Calvert from his ass, and lay on his back.

“I want to see you, to kiss you,” Granger said. Calvert's dick was big enough to do that, to let Calvert lie almost on top of Granger as he would if he was a woman and still penetrate him. Calvert moved on top of him, their mouths met, frantically seeking each other, while Granger tilted his hips up and used his hand to guide Calvert back inside him. Now their coupling took on a whole new character, now they weren't fucking; now they were making love. Granger felt his whole body tingle, not just the parts that were in touch with Calvert, felt his chest swell with emotion, felt his balls rise as his orgasm approached. He was so into Calvert, so into making love to him, he didn't even care about that. He just gave himself over to the experience. And then he came. He pulled Calvert's mouth down on him and screamed into it to stifle his cries, and then they panted together as they both ejaculated. It was a long, rolling orgasm, the kind of orgasm that could satisfy a man for a whole day.

Calvert made to get up and leave but Granger wrapped his arm around him. “Stay with me for a while,” he said. “I want to just be with you.” Calvert smiled at him, kissed him, and fell asleep sprawled across Granger. Granger loved the way Calvert felt, his smooth muscular body. He loved the way he smelled, his male odor with that tanginess that was unique to him. He thought about Travers then, and refused to feel guilty. He was doing the same thing with Robey.

Travers was so mature, such a man. Calvert still had a boyishness about him. Travers was mature emotionally too, a man who could control himself, his feelings, and would only let himself open up with very few people. Calvert didn't have that level of containment. He was so young, a romantic. Travers was older, wise to the ways of the world. With Travers, Granger felt an equilibrium. His political power, his family, juxtaposed against Travers' rank and experience, created a nice balance. They were stable, content. It was the kind of love that would last forever.

With Calvert, it was a young love. Vital, sexual, passionate, with all the heated emotions that made it so exciting and tantalizing. Two young men, fully enjoying their bodies, their companionship. The relationship was too unequal for it to be permanently stable. Granger outranked Calvert, both in the navy and in society. It was the kind of love that would have to adapt and evolve to survive.

Granger realized then what his problem was. He was looking at Calvert, evaluating his feelings for Calvert, all based on his experience and relationship with Travers. They were as different as night and day. He gazed at the handsome, no, beautiful man on top of him. A great first lieutenant, a fabulous lover, a good friend. What was not to love? Every time Calvert exhaled, his breath flowed across Granger's chest. It was so sexy, so erotic.

Granger felt himself hardening and reached down and gently fondled Calvert's big cock. It was so fun to play with when it was limp, a big huge piece of meat, so soft and pliable. Granger felt Calvert harden to his full length as Granger stroked and played with him. Calvert's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Granger. “You're a randy bugger,” he said.

“You make me that way,” Granger said, kissing him and pulling him back on top of him in the same position they'd been in before. Now Calvert was awake, now he was entering Granger, and Granger was surrendering to him, to his love. He felt them building, their bodies getting closer and closer, then he stopped Calvert.

“Is something wrong?” Calvert asked.

“There is,” Granger said. “Something is very wrong.”

“What?” Calvert asked, nervous and hurt.

“There's this man, and he tried to tell me that he loved me this morning, and I fucked up. I didn't tell him that I love him too.”

Calvert looked at him, digesting that, and then got a huge smile. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean it. I love you Francis. I love you.”

Calvert moaned and began moving again. “I love you too. I love you so much. God, do I love you.” And as good as the sex had been last time, this time it was exponentially better.

The winds had turned foul two days after they left Madeira, so it had taken them two weeks to thrash south to this point. The skies were overcast now, and without stars, without the sun, they couldn't check their position. All they could do was guess, and that was a dicey affair when looking for an island. Granger looked over at Calvert and they smiled at each other. Ever since Granger had worked out his feelings, his time with Calvert had been sheer bliss. Granger thought about all the men he'd been with, and found that Calvert satisfied him just as much as Travers. He wasn't willing to allow himself to think that Calvert might even be better.

Granger looked around the deck at this, his favorite time of day. Dawn. Slowly, so slowly, things got lighter, and then it got light enough to expose the sailor's nightmare: fog. There was only a light breeze, barely enough to give Intrepid steerage way with all her sails set.

“Bloody fog,” Carslake grumbled. “Begging your pardon sir.” Granger chuckled, and then froze.

“Silence on deck! Silence!” he ordered. Then they heard it. Gunfire.

“Gunfire sir,” Carslake said.

“Where away?” Granger asked.

“Off the starboard bow, sir” one man said.

“Sounded aft to me, sir,” said another.

“Well it's starboard anyway. Alter course three points to starboard helm,” Granger ordered. “Mr. Calvert, clear for action. Put the animals on the orlop.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. The drums began to beat and men began to scurry about, frantically getting Intrepid ready for action. “Masthead, look alert. Look for other masts,” Granger called.

“Aye aye sir,” came the cries from aloft.

“Those are heavy guns sir,” Calvert said as he stood next to him.

“Indeed they are, 18-pounders I daresay. It seems that we are dealing with frigates, at least.”

“Deck there, ships off the larboard bow. Looks like they've grappled, or pretty close.”

“How far?” Granger called.

“Eight cables!” came the shout.

“Alter course two points to larboard, helm,” Granger ordered. “Load and run out. Double-shotted.” Intrepid crept closer and closer, hidden by the fog, but blind herself.

“I'm going aloft,” Granger said. He scurried up the mizzen shrouds, up to the top, and pulled out his glass.

“There sir,” said a seaman, pointing unnecessarily. Granger looked and was rewarded with a brief break in the fog. There, lashed together, were two frigates, one French, one Spanish, with a furious battle taking place on her deck. The French appeared to be on the Spaniard's deck, trying to take her by boarding. It was only a matter of time before they captured her.

Granger slid to the deck on a backstay, as smoothly as either of the midshipmen. “Get the mains in, and the royals,” Granger ordered. “Then all hands to the guns.”

“Aye aye sir,” Calvert said.

“Mr. Fleming,” Granger said to the gunner. “Fire the bowchaser in that direction,” Granger said pointing toward the locked ships.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. There was as good a chance they'd hit the Spaniard as the Frog, but he wanted to give them hope, to make them pause to see who this interloper was.

“Mr. Carslake, there are two frigates lashed together on the larboard bow. I want you to keep us off the Frog's quarter where her guns can't reach us. Rig a sea anchor if you have to.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said

“Men,” Granger called. “There's a Frog frigate over there picking on some of our Spanish friends. We're going to have a little target practice.” They all cheered at the same time the bowchaser went off.

“Hoist the colors Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Granger ordered. The British ensign rose to the taffrail, and another at the main so the Frogs would know they had another foe to face.

Then a freak breeze blew away the fog and there, off the starboard bow, were the two frigates, lashed together. Granger nodded to Carslake, who brought the ship slowly around and then backed the main topsail, effectively stopping the Intrepid in the water.

“Fire!” Granger ordered. The first broadside crashed out, smashing into the Frenchman's quarter. He could see her name in gold letter on her stern now: Vienne. A big frigate.

“Fire at will,” Granger called. “Sergeant, snipers in the tops. I don't want anyone living near her wheel.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said crisply, and Granger saw the red-coated marines climb to the tops. The Frenchmen were flowing back onto their own ship now, abandoning the Spaniard.

The Intrepid's guns kept up their murderous fire. Gun drill had paid off well. The smoke from her guns billowed up and enveloped her, the light winds inadequate to blow it away, so Granger could no longer see the ships. He walked over to the shrouds and climbed up a bit, but still couldn't get beyond the smoke.

A man came running up to him, one of the lookouts. “Sir! The Frog and the Don, they're moving apart!” Granger swallowed hard. He'd been lucky up until now. They'd blasted broadside after broadside into the French frigate without a shot in response. That was about to change.

“Deck there!” Came a call from the lookout, almost drowned out as the quarterdeck 12-pounder fired.

“Cease firing!” Granger called. He wanted them to stop firing so he could hear the lookout. “Load your guns!”

“Deck there. I can see smoke from the Frog. She's on fire!”

“What of the Don?” Granger asked.

“Still alongside! Looks like they're trying to get away.”

The light breeze blew the smoke away partially, then the next gust completed it, and Granger could see the frigates clearly now. He was about to order the men to start firing again when he saw flames rising high from the Frenchman's hatch. The Vienne was a doomed ship.

“If those Dons don't clear away soon, they'll be roasted alive sir,” Carslake said.

“Mr. Calvert, every boat in the water,” Granger said. That would take half her crew, but there might be survivors. He watched as the launch swayed out and the crew scrambled in, then the cutter, and his gig. The flames were out of control now, but the Spaniard was still too close. She had pumps and hoses and buckets, all dousing herself, trying to prevent fire jumping from Vienne to their ship, but it was a hopeless battle. They had to get away. Then slowly, ever so slowly, a gulf between the ships opened.

Then there was a massive explosion, as the fire found the Frenchman's powder magazine. The fools hadn't doused their own gunpowder. Granger watched as huge pieces of the ship flew through the air. They were far enough away to avoid any damage, but he watched, concerned, as a wave threatened to swamp the launch. He breathed a sigh of relief as she weathered the wave, and saw the men bailing as they rowed toward the spot where the French frigate had been.

Then Granger turned his attention to the Spaniard. If the seas had been rough, she would already be sunk. As it was, she was doomed. If the fire didn't get her, the seas would. It looked like her whole side was stove in. “Mr. Calvert, lay us alongside the Don. Get the fire hoses rigged.”

They were fighting the fires, holding them in check, Granger saw as the Intrepid crept closer. Soon she lent her own water to the battle, using those magnificent pumps Granger had paid so dearly for to spray gallons of water on the flames and smoldering timbers. Slowly they put the fires out and ended that danger, but The Don was already listing. It was only a matter of time until she listed enough so the huge holes the explosion had made were exposed to the sea. And then she would sink.

“Lay us alongside!” Granger ordered. “Mr. Carslake, prepare to grapple! Mr. Humphreys! I want a gangway between the two ships!” They scrambled off to do as he ordered while Granger watched the two ships close, worried that when they touched the Intrepid would stow in the whole side of the Spaniard, but the Spanish built sturdy ships, and she handled the gentle collision with little apparent damage.

“Doctor! We'll have wounded aboard!” Granger called down the hatch, then went across the gangplank and boarded the Spanish frigate. She was a big frigate too, as big as her French foe had been, but her deck looked like bedlam. There were upended guns, the one next to Granger had smashed a Spanish seaman, who lay there lifeless, his blood still pouring onto the deck. There was blood everywhere, from wounded or dead Spaniards and Frenchmen alike. Granger had to walk carefully to avoid slipping on it.

“Señor, I am Lieutenant Reyes of His Most Catholic Majesty's frigate Aquilla,” a disheveled Spanish lieutenant said in rough English. “I am the senior surviving naval officer. This is Colonel Avila.” Granger bowed to the lieutenant then turned to the Colonel, as poised and spotless as if he were never in a battle.

“Captain George Granger, of His Britannic Majesty's ship Intrepid.” He looked at the lieutenant. “Your ship is doomed, señor. You must abandon her.”

“That is impossible,” the Colonel said in perfect English.

“Then you will sink with her,” Granger said.

“You English are so quick to leave?”

“But for our arrival, Colonel, this ship would now be French and you would be a prisoner, so let us not bluster about national pride. That you will sink is a fact. I am willing to assist you if you choose.”

Granger saw a brief crack in his formal façade. “This ship is carrying a valuable cargo. It cannot be abandoned.”

“What is this cargo Colonel?” Granger asked. He heard the cries of the wounded and cursed this man for delaying their rescue.

“Gold and silver,” he said. Now Granger understood. The Spaniards had stopped shipping their precious supply of gold and silver from South America in big flotas, or at least they had for the most part. Now, they usually shipped it in squadrons of frigates.

“Then we must work quickly. We will prepare a space in the hold and you may supervise its stowage Colonel.” Granger said.

“And then it will be yours?” he asked, a raised eyebrow.

“No, señor, it will remain the property of His Most Catholic Majesty. We have need of stores and were planning to put into Tenerife. We will land you and your cargo there. But we must move quickly!”

“Very well,” the Colonel said.

“Excuse me,” Granger said. “Mr. Calvert!”

“Sir?” he said from the Intrepid.

“We are abandoning this vessel. There is a considerable amount of cargo to be transferred. Rig the hoists. Lieutenant Reyes will work with you!”

“Aye aye sir.”

“Señor, I recommend that you move all your wounded men to the Intrepid, and then the able men can help with the cargo. My surgeon is waiting on the orlop to help.” Reyes nodded.

“Colonel,” Granger said. “Do not your ships carrying such a cargo travel in squadrons?”

“You are aware of our sailing patterns?” he asked with a smile. “It is no matter. They do. We were in company with two other frigates when we were engaged by a French squadron. The other frigates broke off to chase them off. They occupied the ship of the line, but the frigate, well, she attacked us.” He gestured to the side where the Vienne had been.

“So there is a French ship of the line out there somewhere, battling two Spanish frigates?” Granger asked. He had no doubt how that battle would turn out.

“Yes,” the Colonel said.

“How long ago, how far away?” Granger asked.

“We saw them yesterday. I do not know where they are.”

“Thank you Colonel. You should make ready to transfer yourself. I can offer you the hospitality of my cabin.” Granger thought quickly that he'd just bunk with Calvert, and that almost made him smile.

“Thank you Captain,” he said.

Granger walked across the gangway to the Intrepid and felt relieved to be back aboard. Humphreys was on the deck supervising the transfer of the wounded.

“Lookouts on deck!” Granger called, and watched the men from the tops come sliding down. They rushed up to him and stood at attention. “There's a Frog ship of the line out there, probably a 74, and two Spanish frigates. Keep a close eye out. We don't want to match broadsides with a battleship.”

“Aye aye sir!” they said, and hurried aloft.

Jackson came hurrying up to him, his apron bloody. “Sir, there's too many of them. We need to keep some up on deck!”

“Arrange it as you like, but keep the guns clear Doctor,” Granger said. He watched as chest after chest of treasure was hoisted from the Don and into Intrepid. It must be a fortune. Probably enough to pay off the Prince of Wales' debts, Granger thought with a smile. There were Spanish soldiers to guard it, and officers and marines to keep an eye on it every step of the way.

There was a creaking, a groan, as the Aquilla listed further over. “Look alive men,” Granger said. “We haven't got much time!” He stood there, watching the men work, watching them lug treasure and men over. Miraculously, some of Aquilla's livestock survived, two pigs and a bullock, so they saved them too, although only temporarily. They'd be dinner tonight.

By dusk they'd cleared all the cargo and wounded men from the Aquilla. Reyes came aft with the Colonel to report. “Señor, we have completed the transfer. I must thank you for what you have done for my men,” Reyes said.

“We are allies,” Granger said simply, trying to forget his unfriendly treatment by the Portuguese in Madeira.

“Lieutenant Reyes plans to stay with Aquilla and a crew of 20 men, to see if he can get her to port,” the Colonel said. They all knew that Intrepid could not stay with them. Not with the cargo, and all the wounded aboard. They would be on their own.

“You are a brave man, Lieutenant. I wish you luck,” Granger said. “When we reach Tenerife, we will send help.”

“Thank you Captain,” Reyes said. And then, in the final, fading light, Intrepid cast off from Aquilla and set sail for Tenerife, full of silver, gold, and wounded Spaniards.