St. Vincent - 7. Chapter 7

October, 1796

HMS Belvidera swung peacefully at her anchor at the mouth of the inner harbor, announcing to all that would venture past that she was there to look after England’s interests. Her captain was much less peaceful, as he stood on his quarterdeck waiting for his gig to be lowered and manned.

“I will be interviewing the commodore if I am needed,” Granger said to Roberts officiously.

“And if that Corsican gent returns, sir?” Roberts asked.

“You mean Signor Calvatori?” Granger asked, grimacing. The man had been a complete nuisance, constantly calling on him to demand this, that, or the other thing. “I suspect he is aboard Captain, whining to the commodore, but if he appears, you may bid him to call on me tomorrow.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said, smiling slightly. Granger went over the side into his gig.

“The Captain, Jeffers,” he ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Jeffers said. “Should be an easy pull there, what with the wind from offshore.” Granger eyed him carefully. It was unlike Jeffers to make idle conversation.

“I fear you will pay for it on the way back,” Granger said good-naturedly.

“Unless the wind shifts, sir,” Jeffers observed playfully.

“We’ll see if your luck holds,” Granger joked back. They said nothing for the remainder of the voyage, but just watched as they drew closer to Nelson’s ship. It seemed like no time at all before Granger was walking into Nelson’s cabin, led there once again by Miller himself.

“Ah Granger, you are the tip of our sword, and we do like to drag you back to charm us from time to time,” Nelson joked.

“It is always a pleasure to do so, sir,” Granger said gracefully.

“Sadly, this is not entirely a social call,” Nelson said. “The Committee of Thirty has seized the Customs House and is refusing to release British merchandise unless a duty is paid.”

Granger actually allowed himself to sigh with frustration. “If I may be so bold, sir, can I ask how much longer we will have to be here?”

Nelson laughed. “Another day or two, I fear. Then we will be at sea, trying to dodge the French and Spanish armada.”

“I’m not sure I see you dodging them, sir,” Granger said. “I suspect that unless the odds were more than three to one, you’d give them a thrashing.”

“As a matter of fact, that is about my preferred ratio,” he said. “Let’s eat, and then we can decide what to do about our unruly Corsican friends.”

Granger took his place with Miller and Thomas Hardy, Nelson’s flag lieutenant. “I’ve actually been thinking about that, sir, and I have an idea.”

“Go on,” Nelson said.

“We have some mortars and shells left on board from our encounter with the Oranians, sir,” Granger observed. “I was thinking that if we toss one at the town with a short fuse, such that it explodes in the air, it might have the effect of focusing our Corsican friends on the business at hand.”

“People could get killed, sir,” Miller observed.

“I don’t think Granger’s talking about a bombardment. He’s talking about blowing up a mortar in mid-air to scare the bejesus out of the Bastians. Casualties should be light, but in any event, we are not the ones provoking this conflict.”

“Yes, sir,” Miller said, abashed.

“Captain Miller does raise a good point, sir,” Granger said to help the man save face. “If we make an error, there could be civilian casualties.” He got a grateful look from Miller.

“I think it is a risk worth taking,” Nelson said. “This Committee of Thirty has demanded an audience with me. I am going to send you instead. Go ashore and take your marines, which should be a suitable show of force.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. “With your permission, I’ll launch a mortar shell or two over the city tonight, and then go call on the Committee in the morning.”

“Arrange it as you like,” Nelson said. After that, dinner became a fun affair. Granger found Hardy to be lively company, and noticed that the man looked at him a bit more intently than one might otherwise expect. Not that Granger minded. Hardy was a handsome man, probably in his mid-20s. Granger found that he had enjoyed himself almost too much, and was only able to get into his gig with some small difficulties.

“Here you are, sir,” Jeffers said, helping him into his seat.

“Thank you, Jeffers,” Granger said, and hoped he didn’t slur too much. He spent the rest of the boat ride back to Belvidera trying to sober up, and was fortunate that Jeffers’ luck wasn’t with him and the wind hadn’t changed direction, so that made it a longer pull. By the time he got back to Belvidera, he had a semblance of control, such that no one would guess he’d started his boat trip in a drunken stupor.

“Signor Calvatori is waiting for you, sir,” Roberts said as soon as he came aboard.

“I will see him shortly. Rig up one of the mortars we have stored in the hold and aim it at the city. I intend to show the Bastians the consequences of trifling with His Majesty’s Navy.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said. Granger began to pace the quarterdeck as the mortar was hove up. Calvatori must have been kept busy in the wardroom, as he appeared a full ten minutes after Granger returned.

“Captain,” he began. “Your merchants are refusing to pay a duty on their goods. They would defy the laws of our island!”

“Signor Calvatori, I have told you that no duties will be paid. Quite frankly, for you to propose such a thing is monstrous,” Granger said. “No duties are going to be paid on goods that are being re-embarked.”

“This is an outrage!” he shrieked.

“I intend to give you and your Committee something else to worry about. I will call on your Committee at the Customs House in the morning,” Granger said. The Corsican made to speak but Granger held up his hand to stop him. “In a few minutes, this ship will explode a few mortar shells over the city. Tomorrow, the Committee will grant all of my demands, or the next shells will land in the city itself, followed by a cannonade from this fleet.”

“You will create a panic! There will be riots!” He objected.

“Then if I were you, I’d be in my boat and on my way back to try and quell their fears,” Granger observed nonchalantly. He stared hard at the Corsican until he fled the deck and went over the side into his boat.

“Captain Somers,” Granger called.

“Sir?”

“I want two shells to explode over the town as soon as can be arranged. Take precautions to make sure they don’t land on the town if it can be helped.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

Granger watched the preparations as they rigged up the mortar and got the shells ready. Some thirty minutes after they started, Somers reported back to him. It was almost dusk now, and families would probably be inside. “We’re ready, sir,” Somers reported.

“Excellent. Fire one shot and we’ll see what happens,” Granger said. He watched as Somers carefully massaged the shell, then took the fuse and carefully cut it to the desired length. He put the shell in the mortar, lit it, waited a second or two to make sure the fuse had taken, and then fired the gun. It recoiled as it roared out, and in the semi-darkness it was possible to see the sparks from the fuse marking the flight of the shell. It exploded about 20 feet above a building.

“Well done, Mr. Somers,” Granger said. They watched as lights began to flicker, and he fancied he could hear the panicked voices even aboard the ship. “Let’s shift our target a bit. One more shell.”

Granger paced the deck slowly, willing his head to stop throbbing, and praying that the nausea that threatened to overcome him would subside. Dawn was upon them; the sun was just starting to light up the skies.

“Good morning, sir,” Roberts said, trying to be friendly, but not too friendly, in the way one coddles a superior that has a hangover.

“So you say, Mr. Roberts,” Granger said dubiously.

“I will be glad to be rid of this place, sir,” Roberts said.

“Not half as glad as I will,” Granger agreed. “I’d rather be battling a hurricane than haggling with Corsicans.”

Roberts laughed. “I couldn’t agree more, sir.” He hesitated for a bit, and then continued reluctantly. “If you don’t mind my asking, sir, how is it with you?”

Granger could have snapped his head off, and Roberts had certainly risked that by prying into his personal life, but the tone was so caring that Granger didn’t take offense. “It has been difficult. Thank you for your concern. You lost a good friend as well.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I think when Mr. Robey was wounded, that was closer to what you’re dealing with.” Now that really was a bold statement, since Roberts and Robey were lovers, not just men having sex, and Roberts was suggesting Granger had that kind of relationship with Travers.

“It is very hard to lose someone you care so much about,” Granger said carefully. “It has gone from an agonizing wound, to a dull ache, but that is only if I do not think about him too much.”

“I know you know this, sir, but if there is anything I can do to help, you have but to ask.” Granger looked at Roberts and smiled, remembering how much fun he could be as a lover, how rough and dominant he could be.

“I appreciate that. I may have to take you up on that. In the meantime, I am solely focused on escaping from this place.”

Granger heard a boat hailed from his ship, but didn’t hear the response. He was surprised to find one of Nelson’s midshipmen aboard. This one was Simon Perkins, who came from a naval family. Kind of like Travers, Granger thought sadly, and then pushed thoughts of his former lover aside. Perkins was a cute lad, probably in his mid teens, with a tall body and scrawny limbs. He had a handsome face that was pear shaped and nice blond hair, but the most attractive feature was his ass. Perkins had to have one of the skinniest asses Granger had ever seen, the kind where you could easily grab both cheeks with your hands, the kind that had almost no padding to interfere with a potential intruder. That thought actually made Granger smile, but he used the gesture to his advantage, turning it on Perkins.

“Mr. Perkins, welcome to Belvidera,” Granger said politely, pouring on the charm. He knew from personal experience how influential officers assigned to a flag officer could be.

“Thank you, Sir George,” he said. “The commodore has asked if you would join him for breakfast.”

“I did not drink enough of his wine yesterday?” Granger joked.

“I think there are a few bottles left, sir,” Perkins responded.

“Well then let us see if we can deprive our commodore of his fine vintage,” Granger said, forcing himself to be jovial. “I will return with you, and my gig can pick me up.” Granger turned to Roberts, who nodded. He’d make sure that part was handled. “I will be with you in just a few minutes.”

Granger went below and put on his second-best uniform, as seemed to be appropriate for an impromptu breakfast meeting. He came back on deck no more than ten minutes later to find Perkins trying hard not to look nervous. Nelson hated waiting even more than Jervis, so Perkins was fretting at this small delay. Granger had been gone so much lately that a nod to Roberts was all the communication they needed to exchange.

“So what am I being summoned for, Mr. Perkins?” Granger asked, more to be friendly than because he expected a substantive answer.

“I’m not sure, sir. We don’t always get to know the big secrets,” Perkins said, grinning at Granger.

“Then things have not changed since I was in the midshipman’s berth,” Granger joked.

“There was a new arrival yesterday, sir,” Perkins continued. “Blanche was detached to join the commodore.”

Blanche was a 32-gun frigate, built at the end of the last war in Bursledon. She was a stout ship, as were most English warships, and carried 18-pounders. Granger suspected that, as she was shorter than Belvidera, she’d be a bit slower. “Another addition will be welcome as we head for Gibraltar. How is Captain Sawyer?”

“He is no longer in command, sir,” Perkins said. “He was removed by court martial. It is possible that is why she was sent here from San Fiorenzo.”

“Why was he court-martialed?” Granger asked, surprised.

“He was found guilty of sodomy, sir,” Perkins answered stoically. It took all of Granger’s reserves to pretend as if that were no news at all, while inside he boiled with anxiety. That was his biggest fear, being discovered as a man who loved other men. And this was the consequence of that discovery: court martial and oblivion.

“Who is in command now?”

“Captain Preston D’Arcy, sir.” Granger didn’t know him, but he had met Sawyer before. He hadn’t particularly liked the man, and he certainly wasn’t very attractive. He was above Granger in the Captains List, but significantly below him in the social order.

“I’m sure he will heal whatever wounds Sawyer has left on Blanche,” Granger said.

“I served with Captain Sawyer, sir,” Perkins said softly. “I am fairly certain his verdict was fair.”

Granger recognized that kind of pain, the hidden kind, and instinctively put his hand on Perkin’s shoulder. “I hope you have moved beyond that,” Granger said, jumping to several conclusions to make that statement.

“Yes, sir,” Perkins said. “Thank you, sir.”

“I am not sure what devilment the commodore is going to visit upon me today,” Granger said with a grin, “but when we have an occasion, I should like to invite you to dine with me.”

Perkins eyes flew open. A captain, and not just any captain, but Sir George Granger, had actually deigned to invite him to dine? He finally managed to stammer “thank you, sir”, just as the boat pulled up alongside Captain.

“Welcome back, Sir George,” Miller said as he greeted him. “The commodore is busy, so you will have to make do with my company.”

They automatically began to pace the quarterdeck. “It would be my pleasure.”

“You are here so often I should allocate you a cabin.”

“If you can find space after housing a commodore and his staff, I should accuse you of being a wizard,” Granger joked. He had grown to really like Miller since they had arrived here in Bastia.

“Sawyer’s the one who thinks he has a magic wand,” Miller said sourly. “You’ve heard of his court martial?”

“Only that he had one, and was tried for sodomy,” Granger replied. Now they were two fellow captains, just gossiping.

“An ugly affair. He was evidently accused of buggering two of his midshipmen and a number of his ships boys,” Miller said. “The evidence was strong in his case.”

“Indeed?” Granger asked.

“One of the midshipmen went to see the surgeon after Sawyer had buggered him. The surgeon found evidence of both penetration and emission.” Those were the two pieces of physical evidence that would be needed in such a trial.

“So in addition to that, they had a number of young men who stepped forward and jointly accused him,” Granger said, almost to himself.

“It would appear to be damning,” Miller said.

“Perkins mentioned it to me on the trip over here,” Granger mentioned casually.

“Poor lad served with Sawyer. He’s an attractive one, so God knows what happened to him over there. His grandfather is a Vice-Admiral, so it wasn’t long that he was pulled from Blanche and sent to the commodore.”

“Attractive? Perhaps he has much to fear here as well,” Granger joked. Granger almost laughed when he’d seen Miller’s initial outrage, before he realized Granger was joking.

“Too many more months at sea, and we’ll have to hide him,” Miller said, as they laughed together.

“Sir, the commodore requests your presence,” Perkins said, interrupting their conversation and making them both embarrassed for talking about him. “If you’ll follow me.”

“Certainly, Mr. Perkins,” Granger said. “I enjoyed our walk, Captain.”

“As did I,” Miller said.

Granger followed Perkins, admiring once again his cute ass while trying not to admire it so much he got an erection.

“Welcome back, Granger,” Nelson said enthusiastically. “Excuse me. Sir George.”

“Sir, I would prefer that you call me by name,” Granger said, and was rewarded by Nelson’s big smile.

“That’s quite an honor,” Nelson said, still smiling.

“The honor is mine, sir,” Granger said. He thought about this man in front of him, who was brimming with charisma. Granger thought about what he wouldn’t do if Nelson ordered him to do it, and could really think of nothing. Men, Granger included, would walk through the gates of hell for Nelson.

Nelson guided them over to the dining table, and Granger found that the more he thought about Nelson, the more intrigued he was by the man. Jervis had made his views on aristocrats in the Navy quite clear; he’d certainly shipped enough of them home. Nelson didn’t seem to feel that way at all. Granger always noticed that Nelson treated him with just a little more respect than was due his naval rank, as if he factored in the social class of the person he was with and let it enhance or detract from their overall rank. Granger put these thoughts aside as they chatted over breakfast.

“I’m pulling you out of the harbor and sending you off to Naples,” Nelson said bluntly, getting to the point. “We’ve almost finished loading our stores, and we should be departing this god-forsaken island soon. We’ve gotten reports that the French have landed an army north of here, and there really is no question that they’ll be headed for us.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger agreed, waiting for more.

“We won’t need your diplomatic skills in the future. From now on, we’ll be speaking with our cannon, and I have men who aren’t as bright as you who know how to do that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger replied to that compliment.

“Your orders are to sail to Naples.”

“Naples, sir?” Granger asked.

“Yes. It seems that Naples made peace with France at the same time Spain was declaring war against us. What wonderful allies we have!” Nelson added sarcastically. “Buonaparte and his army have conquered Northern Italy, and now that they’ve negotiated peace with the Neapolitans, all of Italy is lost.”

“I see, sir,” Granger said, although he still couldn’t see why Belvidera was being sent to Naples.

“Your mission is to retrieve your old friend, Lord Calverton. It seems that Sir William will stay on, safe under His Neapolitan Majesty’s protection, but London wants to consult directly with Calverton.”

“Now I understand, sir,” Granger said, grinning. “Lord Calverton can be a most disagreeable passenger.”

“So I have heard,” Nelson said. “You seem to be one of the few people he will listen to, besides Sir William.”

“He is not known for his cooperation, sir,” Granger joked. “When would you have me depart, and where shall I rendezvous with you?”

“And they accuse me of being restless,” Nelson joked. “I would think you’d leave on the morning tide. That gives you today to extract yourself from the inner harbor. I’ll have Blanche take over your duties.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger responded.

“Rather than have you come back here only to find the French and Spanish fleet waiting for you, I think it would be better if you sailed back to Gibraltar. We will either meet you there, or leave further orders with the Governor.”

“Thank you, sir. I would prefer not to take on the whole fleet alone.”

“Sound judgment on your part, Granger.”

“Your midshipman, Mr. Perkins,” Granger began. “Our grandfathers are friends, and I have invited him to dine with me. Would that meet with your approval, sir?”

Nelson sighed. “He’s a top-notch midshipman, but still seems to carry some scars from his time on Blanche. Perhaps having someone like you spend time with him will help him along his way.”

“Thank you, sir. Then with your permission, I’ll take him back with me and have him returned to Captain as we depart in the morning,” Granger said.

“That will be acceptable,” Nelson said. “I’ll have your orders sent over to you when you drop off Perkins.” Clearly their interview was over, so Granger took that opportunity to leave gracefully. He headed up to the quarterdeck instead of to the entry port to say goodbye to Miller and collect Perkins. He was lucky to find them both there.

“Mr. Perkins,” Granger called.

“Sir George?”

“I am leaving harbor tomorrow. I wonder if you would like to have that dinner I promised today.”

“Yes, sir,” Perkins said enthusiastically.

“My plan, as approved by the commodore, is for you to return to Belvidera with me, and then we will deposit you here in the morning as we depart,” Granger said, making it sound like Perkins was so much cargo to tease him.

“That is excellent, sir. If you will excuse me, I will go prepare myself and meet you at the entry port.” Granger nodded and then approached Miller.

“So you’re going to give Perkins a vacation day, eh Granger?” Miller asked in a friendly way, and then seemed nervous, since he hadn’t addressed Granger as a superior should be addressed.

“He seems a bit overworked, which is surprising aboard a flagship,” Granger joked back to let Miller know his demeanor was fine. There was no need for undue ceremony when chatting with a fellow captain.

“That may be true on most flagships, but not on this one,” Miller said, grinning.

“I can readily believe that.”

“Enjoy your time in Naples. We will see you in Gibraltar,” Miller said, as he shook Granger’s hand.

“Thank you. I will try to make my stay there as brief as possible.” Granger headed to the entry port and found Perkins waiting for him, wearing a much nicer uniform than he’d had on before. “After you, Mr. Perkins,” Granger gestured, and then followed him down into his gig. As soon as he was seated, he simply said “Belvidera” to Jeffers, and then turned to watch the activity in the harbor.

“We get a new young gentleman, sir?” Jeffers asked with a smile. He’d been in a remarkably good mood lately.

“I am just borrowing Mr. Perkins for the day. I hear he is an excellent conversationalist, although he has yet to prove that to me,” Granger quipped.

“I have many skills, sir,” Perkins said, being cheeky.

“What part of England are you from?” Granger asked.

“London, sir. My father did not opt for a career in the Navy, much to my grandfather’s dismay,” Perkins said jovially. “Nonetheless, he has been quite successful working for John Company. My grandfather lives in Devon, so that is where I go when I am not in London.”

“I have had some dealings with The Honorable East India Company,” Granger said. Perkins had called it John Company, the nickname often used for that corporation. “My brother is supposedly amassing a fortune both for them and for himself out in the East Indies.”

“More for himself than for the company, if the rumors are true, sir,” Perkins said with a smile.

“I would believe them. That sounds like my brother.” They were still laughing about that as they boarded Belvidera. Granger told Winkler to prepare dinner for him and Perkins, then told Roberts their plans for departure. He paused to think about Perkins and his cute face and his attractive body. Granger began to think of how much fun he could have with a young man like Perkins, and then the logical part of his mind reasserted itself. He’d had an almost disastrous experience with Darby. What sane man would risk a similar problem, with Nelson’s flag midshipman?