St. Vincent - 23. Chapter 23

January 23, 1797

Granger gripped the shrouds with one hand while his other hand firmly clutched the tarpaulin around his body, fighting with the wind to maintain it in place over his uniform. It was not quite dawn yet, otherwise he’d be able to scan the sea that roiled all around them in this big Mediterranean gale. He fought back the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him, the nervousness that they would find themselves on a lee shore when dawn finally did break through.

As long and as hard as the voyage to Roses had been, so the voyage back to Elba was proving just as hard, only much shorter. The winds had built up gradually, blowing almost directly toward their destination and speeding them along until now, when during the past two days they had become so strong Belvidera had all she could do just to maintain her course. The smart thing would have been to heave to and ride it out, but Granger knew that time was important, especially to Nelson, so he’d pressed on, thankful that Belvidera’s new masts and cordage had withstood the strain.

He felt a presence next to him and turned to see Clifton’s face just visible in the binnacle light. “Good morning, sir,” he yelled, trying not to sound as exhausted as he was. It mattered not: Granger was probably more tired than he was. Granger returned the greeting grudgingly, because talking in this wind was just too much effort.

Granger was near panic lest the storm had driven them onto a lee shore, and was sure that God was taunting him by making this particular dawn come on very slowly. He’d done his best to estimate their position, but with overcast skies, they’d had no stars for reference, no way to take their normal sightings. At this point, he was going solely on instinct. Of course, even if it were daylight, no one would ever see these internal convulsions that Granger was experiencing. Externally, he was as calm and collected as he always was.

Ever so slowly items and people on the deck became visible, and ever so slowly did the rigging become discernible. Granger gazed about impassively, anxiously awaiting the advent of light, when his internal reveries were interrupted by a cry from the lookout. “Deck there! Sail ho! Close in on the larboard side!”

All eyes peered to the larboard, while Granger and Clifton strode purposefully to the rail and looked out in earnest. There, not more than two cables’ length off their port side was a ship sailing almost on a parallel course to theirs. Granger studied her outline and felt his adrenaline surge, as this was no mere ship, this was a warship. Her size would put her at about Belvidera’s rating, which meant that he would probably be in a pitched battle with another frigate in short order. He looked about the deck anxiously, and then relaxed. His men were at quarters, just as they always were at dawn, and he had an experienced and seasoned crew. No matter what the next few minutes revealed, they would be ready, and they would be victorious. There was no doubt of that in the mind of Sir George Granger.

“Shall we clear for action, sir?” Clifton prompted. Granger smiled at the excitement in his tone. Clifton was anxious to be at it, but Granger sensed that there was something different about this strange vessel. He studied the ship, its darkened outline barely visible, and felt the emotion overwhelm him, the same desire that Clifton was feeling, the desire to engage in battle. Just as he was about to give the orders to clear for action, Granger let his logical mind reassert itself, and he studied the other ship even more closely. That had to be a British frigate. First of all, the rigging was definitely British. In addition, the mere fact that the ship was underway in these seas and these winds would almost exclude her from being French or Spanish. Then Granger heard the martial sound of drums come banging out across the water. If there were any doubt in his mind, that sealed it. The song they were playing was “Hearts of Oak”. Only British ships went to quarters to that song.

“No, Mr. Clifton. That is a British frigate. Listen,” Granger ordered. Clifton heard the same noises, the same sounds, and smiled.

“I suspect that whoever is over there will be most disturbed at having cleared for action for nothing, sir,” Clifton observed. All of the furnishings and livestock would be tossed below in these seas, and that ship was probably doomed now to at least a day of disorganization while her crew put everything back to rights.

“I suspect you are right,” Granger agreed, grinning at the thought of disturbing one of his colleagues like that. “Hoist our colors so they see them as soon as dawn breaks.” Clifton scurried off to do that while Granger continued to study this other frigate. All he could see was her rigging, but she looked very familiar. That wasn’t a big surprise, since Granger had served in the Mediterranean for quite some time and was familiar with most of the ships in the fleet.

“Colors hoisted, sir,” Clifton said as he returned to Granger’s side. “Do you know her?”

“I believe her to be the Romulus, Mr. Clifton,” Granger said daringly. He usually avoided making guesses like that, lest he end up being wrong. “I sailed aboard her briefly during the siege of Toulon.” Granger let his mind wander back to that event some years ago. He’d been a junior lieutenant and had gone to try and stamp out a mutiny. Roberts had been the second lieutenant on the brig he’d recaptured, an unhappy ship to be sure. Thinking about that reminded Granger of Roberts, and of how much he missed having him aboard.

“Captain Johnstone Hope, sir,” Gatling said, augmenting his knowledge from the ship’s code book.

“It used to be just Johnstone,” Granger mused curiously.

“I think he added the ‘Hope’ in a bid to acquire part of his inheritance, sir,” Clifton said.

“Let us hope it was worth the addition of a name,” Granger said jovially. Now the light was on them, and the ship was proven to be Romulus, just as Granger had thought. He saw the familiar face of Hope on the quarterdeck and raised his hat to him, a friendly salute which Hope returned. It was too windy to hail the other ship, and the sea was too violent to risk crossing to the other ship in a boat, so that would have to suffice.

“Land ho!” The lookout called. “Fine off the starboard bow.”

“Mr. Villiers, use those young eyes of yours to tell me what you make of that land formation,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” the youth said nervously. He wasn’t the best aloft, but he was a King’s officer, and Granger needed sharp eyes. Villiers strode off toward the foremast while Granger re-focused his gaze on the Romulus. A new figure had appeared on her deck, this one wearing the scarlet uniform of an army officer. At first Granger assumed it was the Captain of Romulus’ marines, but there was too much gold lace for that. The wearer quickly covered up his uniform with a tarpaulin, but there was something about him that seemed familiar. Granger couldn’t make out his facial features, but he could see the color of his hair: auburn.

“A glass!” he demanded, and the big quarterdeck glass was immediately handed to him. He scanned the Romulus, focusing his gaze, and zeroed the scope in on the man with the auburn hair. A big smile broke out across Granger’s face.

“Who’s the army officer, sir?” Clifton asked curiously.

“An old friend of mine,” Granger replied. “Sir Phillip Kerry.”

“And one of the most eligible bachelors in all of England, sir,” Clifton noted, echoing the same statement Caroline had made when he’d first mentioned the young baronet to her.

“So I am told.” What was Sir Phillip Kerry doing in the Mediterranean? He was a Brigadier, a rank which was roughly equivalent to that of a senior post-captain. Were there troops aboard Romulus? Surely not, and even if there were, some of them would be up on deck, if for no other reason than curiosity. No, Romulus had cleared for action, and if there were troops aboard, there would be a sizeable contingent on the quarterdeck, and there was only the normal number there. He must be on some sort of diplomatic mission.

“Sir!” came Villiers’ screeching voice from the foretop. He was just now starting puberty, and his voice made that squeaking sound from time to time, causing him acute embarrassment. “The land, it’s Elba!”

“Thank you, Mr. Villiers. You may return to deck,” Granger shouted.

The two frigates thrashed along, side by side, heading toward the safety of Porto Ferrajo. It was maddening to be this close to Kerry and to not be able to talk to him. As the day went on, they sighted each other from their respective decks, but that was the only contact the weather allowed. It seemed as if the entire day were moving in slow motion, as Elba crept closer and closer to them, as if to tease them with her safety while keeping them out of reach of that prize. Granger thought that they might have to wait until the next day to enter port, but they were able to clear the marked channel just as dusk set in. The sun set just as Belvidera dropped her anchor. The ship seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at being spared the stormy seas she’d battled these past few days.

The activity in the port was obvious, as the transports sat much lower in the water, displacing more and more as they were loaded up with the supplies England was desperate to save. The men would presumably be loaded on later, assuming that General DeBurgh relented and let them leave. “Call away my gig,” Granger ordered, and then went below to spruce up, as much for Kerry as for Nelson.

“Will you be staying ashore tonight, sir?” Winkler asked. Granger hadn’t even considered that.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Probably not.”

“I was of a mind to go ashore with you and see to getting your clothes laundered, if that’s alright with you, sir.”

“You may handle that as you please,” Granger said. Winkler gathered up his clothing and preceded Granger into the boat. “You have the ship, Mr. Clifton.”

“Aye aye, sir,” he acknowledged. Granger descended into the boat, and was almost surprised at how badly she bobbed around. Even in the sheltered waters of the port, the Mediterranean was unwilling to be peaceful. In fact, the ride to shore was so rough that Granger was soaked from the waist down. It took all of his energy to keep his teeth from chattering.

Nelson’s midshipman met them. “Welcome back, sir. I’ve been ordered to direct you to the Governor’s House. That’s where everyone’s heading. I have a horse for you to ride.”

“Thank you,” Granger said. “I may stay ashore, but I’m not sure where,” he said to Winkler.

“I’ll track you down, sir,” he said with a grin. Granger mounted the horse and felt his wet clothes chafe against his skin as the beast started off, following after Nelson’s midshipman. Granger arrived at the Governor’s House and received a warmer reception than he had the first time. Major Greeves greeted him and ushered him into a meeting room dominated by two roaring fires.

“Welcome back, Granger,” Nelson said warmly as he extended his hand in greeting. Granger took off his hat respectfully then shook the hand of his commodore.

“Thank you, sir. It is good to be in port in weather such as this.”

“Wouldn’t want to put too much wear on that new rigging you were able to coax from the dockyard,” Nelson said with a grin.

“No sir,” Granger agreed, smiling as well. “It is most difficult to extract supplies like that in the first place.”

“So did you drop our Don friends off in Cartagena?”

“No, sir. I was only able to take them as far as Roses. We had adverse winds the entire trip.”

“Well at least you were able to land them in Spain.”

“Yes, sir. That seemed to be Don Jacobo’s key motive.”

“Did you have contact with the shore?”

Granger swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. We actually put into Roses for the night.”

“You sailed into an enemy port?” Nelson asked, incredulous.

“We were invited, sir. I hope that was alright.”

“I see nothing wrong with that. Were they friendly?”

Granger blushed furiously. “They had a parade for us, and a banquet, sir.”

“You sail into an enemy port, and they have a parade?” Nelson asked, and then burst out laughing. “I daresay most of our ships would not get such a reception.”

“No, sir,” Granger said. “They were honoring me for our events during my last visit. We had an encounter with the commander of a French squadron, and I stormed out of a reception when he insulted His Most Catholic Majesty. It apparently made me something of a folk hero.”

Nelson was really laughing now. “I suppose you took advantage of the opportunity to reprovision?”

“We picked up a few items, sir,” Granger said with an evil grin. “Some things to make our return voyage more palatable.” Then Granger realized he’d made a huge assumption. “Will you be returning on board Belvidera?”

“We shall see,” Nelson said, putting him off. “If I do not, it is no reflection on you or your crew.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said, trying not to sound dejected. There was some commotion as other guests arrived. Granger turned to the door and saw Hope and Kerry walk in, both of them looking quite well-turned-out in their best uniforms. They strode over to Nelson and Granger.

“It is good to see you, sir,” Hope said to Nelson. “This is Brigadier Sir Phillip Kerry.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir Phillip,” Nelson said cordially. “This is Captain Sir George Granger.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” Kerry said a bit stiffly. They were probably trying to decide which of them was the senior officer. “Sir George and I are old friends,” Kerry said as he locked his twinkling eyes on Granger. “It is good to see you George.”

“It is good to see you as well, Sir Phillip,” Granger said as he shook Kerry’s hand. A jolt of electricity seemed to fly between them, a jolt that did nothing but fire up Granger’s libido.

“I brought you dispatches from Sir John.” Granger heard Hope’s words, but his eyes were still locked on Kerry’s.

“They will have to wait until after we meet with the General.”

Hope turned his attention to Granger. “It seems that the last time we met was in Toulon.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said.

“I remember how you handled the mutiny aboard that brig, although I can’t remember her name. Damned good work. I’m glad someone had the brains to post you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger said, genuinely complimented by Hope’s kind words. “As I recall, it was your masterful handling of your ship which put us in range in the first place.”

“You will have to stand in line if you are to join Granger’s admirers,” Nelson joked. “I sent him to Spain to return some prisoners, and they threw a parade for him.”

The others began laughing, laughter that was cut off as General DeBurgh appeared in the room. “Indeed?” he asked imperiously.

“General,” Kerry said with disdain in his voice.

“What brings you out here, Sir Phillip?” De Burgh asked rigidly.

“Would it be too much trouble to ask for a glass?” Kerry asked. “It has been a long, wet voyage ashore.”

DeBurgh blanched at being singled out publicly as a bad host, and snapped a few orders to his staff to bring them some food and drink. The naval officers merely looked on curiously as these two military men squared off. “I would be happy to host you gentlemen to dinner. It should be ready shortly. In the meantime, perhaps you can answer my question.”

Kerry reached into his portfolio and handed DeBurgh some papers. “These are orders from London, sir, directing you to evacuate Elba immediately.”

“And they were sent here by such an esteemed courier as yourself?” DeBurgh asked, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“They were. There was some concern that you would not understand the situation, and that you would require orders to evacuate the island from London, and not just from Sir John Jervis.”

“I do not report to Jervis!” DeBurgh snapped.

“It would appear that those fears are justified, then,” Kerry observed coolly. Granger sat there with Nelson and Hope, intrigued by the exchange. Nelson and Hope were merely amused, but Granger had never seen Kerry in his role as an officer. Kerry was being quite forceful and even a little rude, which was even more surprising since DeBurgh was his senior. The naval officers quietly marveled at their military colleagues.

“You have still not told me why they sent you,” DeBurgh said.

“Because they wanted a senior officer who could take command if you do not fully grasp and execute your orders.”

“You have orders to relieve me?”

“If Commodore Nelson does not feel you are cooperating with the evacuation, and feels that you are delaying our departure, I have orders to relieve you.”

“Evacuations are definitely something you are good at,” DeBurgh sneered.

Nelson intervened to prevent Kerry’s response, one that probably would have ended up in a duel. “Excellent! Then I can rely on your full cooperation, General?”

DeBurgh glared at Nelson now. “I will review these instructions, but we will assume so.”

“Then let us make plans to embark your troops,” Nelson said, pushing the issue forward.

“Perhaps we can do that after dinner,” DeBurgh said, refusing to yield to the obvious. A servant entered and whispered something to the general. “If you will follow me, gentlemen, perhaps I can ease your hunger.”

Perhaps Granger was spoiled by Lefavre’s fabulous cooking, but the food seemed particularly bland at DeBurgh’s table. The general made an effort to smooth things over and maintain pleasant conversation, but the damage had been done. He had alienated his guests, and there was no dissipating the tension in the room.

After they had eaten, DeBurgh sketched through his plans for embarkation, which was interesting in and of itself. Clearly he’d been planning for the contingency that he and his troops would have to leave, and had a comprehensive plan to do just that.

“Then let us set our date of departure for January 28,” Nelson decreed.

“Will we have the honor of hosting you aboard Romulus, sir?” Hope asked Nelson. Hope was the senior captain, so it was really his right to have Nelson sail on his ship.

“I fear that Granger’s people would feel as if I had no confidence in them after the gallant battle they fought on our way here,” Nelson observed diplomatically.

Granger said nothing, but just stared at Nelson and Hope, wondering how to help the commodore return to Belvidera. Hope looked annoyed, and then his normally taciturn face changed as he grinned broadly. “Perhaps we can have a contest?”

“And what would this contest entail?” Nelson asked.

“Romulus is well known for having one of the best chefs in the fleet,” Hope said. “It is rumored that Belvidera claims a similar honor.”

“The honor you speak of is a well-known fact,” Granger replied jovially, getting a chuckle from Hope.

“Then you are proposing a contest to see which ship has the better fare?” Kerry asked. “I would be happy to host it at my residence.”

“I assumed you would stay here,” DeBurgh said.

“I have engaged my own lodgings,” Kerry said.

“Impressive, since you have just arrived,” Nelson said, or asked, depending on how one interpreted his comment.

“I plan ahead,” Kerry said mysteriously. “I propose that both chefs prepare a dish using the kitchen at my villa, and we can sample both dishes and judge which is best.”

“I am amenable to that,” Granger said, “as long as you promise to bear me no ill will after we win.”

Hope chuckled. “No ill feelings, regardless.”

“Then I would propose that we have our dinner tomorrow, to allow the commodore a chance to begin packing for his voyage,” Kerry said. That sufficed to end the party. They took their leave of the ponderous general and made to leave his home.

“Captain,” Kerry said to Granger, “perhaps you would care to spend the night ashore. It has been a long time since we have seen each other. It would be good to have the opportunity to chat with you.”

“With your permission, sir,” Granger asked Nelson.

“By all means,” Nelson said dismissively. He did not have Jervis’ hang-up about officers socializing away from their ships. “It would be a wet boat ride anyway.”

“You are welcome to join us too, Captain,” Kerry said to Hope. He seemed sincere with his invitation, although they all knew that he wasn’t.

“I have to get my chef ready if we’re to beat Granger’s man,” Hope said good-naturedly. “I’ll send your new men over to you tomorrow.”

“New men?” Granger asked curiously.

“You’ve got a few new officers for your staff,” Kerry said. His tone told Granger not to push the issue here, so he just nodded. That served to send Hope and Nelson on their way.

Granger saw Winkler lurking at the entrance to the Governor’s House. “I am staying ashore with Sir Phillip; although where we are staying I am not quite sure.”

“You will like it,” Kerry said. He led them a short distance to a nice enough building that seemed like nothing special until one passed through the entry portico. There it seemed to multiply in size, and was more opulent than either the governor’s residence or Nelson’s headquarters.

“I need you to take a message to the ship,” Granger said to Winkler. He wrote a quick description of the contest for Clifton, along with directions on where he’d be, and sent Winkler off to deliver it.

“And now, we can finally be alone,” Kerry said. He led Granger up the stairs to a room with a huge bathtub in it. “I remembered how much you enjoyed baths.”

“Now that you have spent some time at sea, perhaps you can understand why,” Granger retorted. “I feel as if salt is oozing from my pores.”

Kerry ran his fingers seductively over the warm water, and then began to undress. Granger smiled and followed his lead, matching his maneuver garment by garment. Cravats, jackets, waistcoats, breeches, shirts, stockings, and so forth, all were forming their own respective mounds as the two men disrobed in front of each other. Finally, they stood there on the side of the bath, two naked men, each appreciating the beauty of the other.

Granger felt nervous, primarily because it had been some time since he’d been with Kerry, and because they hadn’t had a conversation yet, so the mental and emotional bond hadn’t returned yet. Kerry had no such qualms. His dick grew before Granger’s eyes, plumping up to the same length as Granger’s, but with a thickness to rival the biggest cocks Granger had seen. Granger reached down and stroked it gently, getting a moan from Kerry.

Kerry led Granger into the bath, the water splashing out as the two men displaced much of it. Granger lay back in the bath, while Kerry lay on top of him. “God, how I missed you,” Kerry said. Granger’s response was muffled by Kerry’s mouth as he kissed him. Their mouths wrestled, fueling their passion, while their wet, slick bodies writhed against each other. Granger wrapped his legs around Kerry’s torso, a move that ended up positioning Kerry’s thick cock between Granger’s ass cheeks.

Granger hadn’t been with a man like Kerry, a man that big, for a while, and knew it would take some work to fuck him. He rolled over and reversed positions with Kerry, and grabbed the soap to lube them up. Then he lowered himself down onto Kerry’s member, feeling the huge head spread his ass open wide, stretching him, hurting him, while Granger focused all of his energy on opening wide enough to take this huge invader. Then with a pop, Kerry was through. Granger moved slowly, getting used to him, letting himself stretch out, until he was ready, then he began moving up and down with a purpose.

Kerry grabbed his head and pulled their mouths together again, murmuring into Granger’s mouth as they slowly fucked themselves to one monumental climax. When it was over, they collapsed into the bath until they recovered their senses, then rinsed off and moved to the bed.

Kerry lay on his back, while Granger lay on his side, running his hand across Kerry’s sexy torso. He played with his auburn hair that was darker at his groin, and tweaked his nipples playfully, getting a giggle from Kerry. “This was worth the trek out here.”

“As if you had a choice,” Granger joked. “Orders are orders.”

“I volunteered to come out here.”

“You did?”

Kerry nodded. “To see you.”

“There are better lovers than me in London,” Granger said. “Arthur is there.”

“You almost sound jealous. I am wondering which of us fuels that emotion in you.”

“You misread my reaction,” Granger said coquettishly, even though he was wondering the same thing.

“You make love with a passion few can match, and a sincerity that is truly lacking in others,” Kerry said, stroking his ego. “But my motives were more basic than that.”

“More basic?”

“We need to talk George. Much has been happening in London, and Caroline asked me to come out here to see you.”

Granger swallowed hard. “So you didn’t really come out here just to have sex with me?”

“No, that’s just frosting on the cake.”

“So talk,” Granger said, wondering what news was important enough to bring Sir Phillip Kerry halfway across Europe.