The Gunroom - 11. Chapter 11

“Aaah,” Granger cried, much too loudly, as he blasted his load onto his chest. He looked up to see Travers smiling down at him, panting just like he was, his own body still quaking from another massive orgasm.

“I wonder if they'd let me take you with me. Maybe you could be my first lieutenant?” Travers teased. They both knew that wouldn't work. He'd only be allocated a midshipman and a couple of master's mates for watch keeping.

“I wish,” Granger said, smiling. Then got somber. “I'm going to miss you. I wonder if we'll ever see each other again.”

“Don't worry George. This war won't last forever. And even if it does, we'll run into each other. That sort of thing happens in the navy, you keep meeting up with your old shipmates.” Travers paused and changed the subject. “I'm thinking of what an amazingly handsome young man you've become.”

“You already fucked me so you can stop the sweet talk,” Granger teased.

“No, I'm serious,” Travers said as he ran his fingers through Granger's hair. “Your blond hair is the same, as if it could get more perfect, and your face is a little longer, your nose a little stronger, but you still have your baby face. You are shaving now aren't you?” Granger laughed and punched him playfully.

Travers moved his hands down to Granger's long neck and to his defined chest, now broad. “When you first came on board, you had the chest of a boy, and now you have the chest of a man. You look like an Adonis.” He traced his hand lower, across Granger's flat abdomen and down his now defined treasure trail to his cock. “This has grown too. Probably half an inch, and thicker. Be careful if you fuck someone.”

Granger giggled at first, then moaned contentedly as Travers fondled his soft cock. They kissed each other gently and basked in the glow of their love, until Granger was aroused again, and then they sated their desires once again.

“Well, that was a lovely morning, but I have to catch the coach to Portsmouth, and you have to wow the examination board,” Travers said.

“Then this is goodbye,” Granger said, tears flowing down his face. He allowed himself to cry, here in his own room, but he found that once he let the tears flow, he couldn't stop them.

“It is. Know that I love you with all my heart,” Travers said.

“You'll meet someone else,” said Granger miserably.

“I may find someone to play around with, but my heart belongs to you,” Travers said, kissing away his tears.

“I love you too.” Then they hugged, saying nothing, until Granger had recovered himself enough to go downstairs. They took the carriage to drop Travers off, and then Granger continued on to the Admiralty where the examination for lieutenant would take place.

Granger trod into that venerable building and shoved his heartbreak aside, focusing on the task ahead. He had studied his navigation books frantically over the past day and a half, and had gotten all of his journals and letters in order. He smiled when he thought about that. He'd scored a real coup there, an endorsement from the Prince of Wales himself.

There were several midshipmen in the waiting room already, along with a few master's mates. They ignored each other, keeping their eyes buried in their journals and notes.

“George Granger,” he heard a voice piercing the room. He got up smartly and followed the secretary into a large room. There, seated and imposing, was his jury of three Post Captains, probably in a foul mood at having to do this miserable job. He walked up to the table and saluted smartly.

“And you are?” The lead Captain asked.

“George Granger sir.”

“I'm Captain Strachan, this is Captain Blackwell,” he said, gesturing to his left, “and this is Captain Wilcox,” he said gesturing to the Captain on his right who had an evil grin plastered on his face. Granger felt his heart drop. Of all the times to run into Wilcox's family members, now was the time he was most vulnerable. “Are you ready sir?” the Captain asked.

“Yes sir,” Granger said, and handed his journals and letters to Captain Strachan. He reviewed them and paused to lay out the letter from the Prince of Wales, and he saw Wilcox swallow hard. A good reminder to him that if he was unduly unfair, there could be repercussions. The challenge of having him there, and the need to surmount the challenge, eliminated all nervousness on Granger's part.

“An enemy is observed; give orders for clearing your ship, and make all the necessary preparations for engaging,” said Blackwell. Granger rapped out the orders for going into action, remembering the engagement with the Apollo.

Then they asked him several questions about navigation, mostly mathematical, which were easy for Granger. Wilcox pulled out two lengths of rope and asked him to demonstrate how to do a cunt splice, which Granger did, mentally thanking Dailey for his tutoring. Strachan looked like he was about to dismiss him, when suddenly Wilcox spoke up.

“Mr. Granger, you are off the port of Toulon when the wind suddenly shifts to easterly. What do you do?” Granger stared at him for a second, recalling the port and its environs, and mentally putting himself into that situation. “Quickly Mr. Granger! Your ship is now all aback and you are being blown toward the rocks!”

Granger realized then that Wilcox was just trying to fluster him. Not only that, he'd made a mistake. He'd meant to say westerly wind, not easterly wind. “I'd put the ship before the wind,” Granger said simply.

“You'd sail your ship right onto the rocks? Is that your idea of seamanship?” He was positively beaming with satisfaction.

“Begging your pardon sir, but you said an easterly wind. That would drive the ship away from des Pesquieres, towards the open sea.”

“I said no such thing,” boomed Wilcox. Blackwell winked at him, knowing he was right.

“Read back your notes Mr. Secretary,” Strachan said. “Did Captain Wilcox say easterly?”

“Yes sir,” stammered the secretary. The two other Captains looked at a furious Wilcox.

“Thank you Mr. Granger, you have passed this examination. Best of luck to you,” Strachan said.

“Thank you sir,” Granger said, bowing respectfully and then walked out of the room as quickly as possible before they changed their minds.

The lights of Carlton House burned bright; they always did. Granger walked up the steps, wishing desperately that he wasn't here. Nothing had taken away the pain of losing Travers. Not passing his exam, not the joy it brought to his father and mother, not even the admiration on Freddie's face. But he was in London and he had to pay his respects, so here he was, entering the den of iniquity, feeling self-conscious in his lieutenant's uniform.

“Acting Lieutenant the Honorable George Granger,” boomed the chamberlain as he entered. He wished Freddie would have at least come with him, but he had some other engagement. Granger skirted through the crowds.

“George Granger! Are you going to be rude and ignore me again?” The reproving female voice caused Granger to turn and face her.

Caroline Haversham, daughter of the Viscount of Heathford, a phenomenally wealthy man but with a relatively young family tree. His mother, if she was in a mood, would consider them parvenus, but she liked Caroline. “How could one ignore such beauty?” Granger said, with a goofy bow. She giggled, exposing the dimples in her cheeks.

“Well aren't you just the charmer? And so handsome in your uniform! Do you still remember how to dance?” She slipped her arm into his and led him in the direction of the music.

“I remember how, but I doubt my skills are good enough to match yours,” Granger countered. He'd known Caroline since they were children. This good natured banter was typical of their exchanges.

“Do you practice those ridiculous lines while you're at sea?” she teased. She led him to the dance floor and positioned herself across from him just as the Minuet began. Granger took a second to find the irony in having to perform a Minuet one minute, and climb to the maintop the next.

“So you are here unescorted?” Granger teased. “You have scared away all of the eligible men in London?”

“Oh, so first you are polite, and now you are a cad?” she laughed. “You are here, you are not scared.”

“I'm terrified like the rest of them, I've just been captured,” he said, grinning.

“You can leave if you like,” she said, pretending to pout.

“I know,” he said, and continued to dance.

“You know our parents are trying to marry us off?” she said. The surprise was so complete that he couldn't quite hide it in time. “Or didn't you?”

He swallowed. “No. I haven't been home that long, and I suspect my mother would be the one to tell me but she left for Bridgemont yesterday.”

“You don't seem very enthused,” she observed.

“I am surprised. Besides, what difference does it make what we think. We're pawns in this game aren't we?” Granger asked.

“You are so frustrating George Granger. My parents gave me a choice of three men to marry, and I picked you, and here you simply don't care.” Now she wasn't teasing, she was pissed. Or worse, hurt.

“Caroline, please forgive me. If my parents would have asked me you'd be at the top of my list too. You know I've always been fond of you, and we've been the best of friends growing up. You've just sprung this on me a bit suddenly, and at the same time that I'm trying to remember how to dance,” Granger said hastily, ending with a joke.

She smiled up at him. “I will forgive you this time.” He beamed back at her. “I think we would make a good couple George. I don't love you, yet, but I think I could learn to.”

“I feel the same way,” Granger said, and found that he meant it. Of all the girls his parents could saddle him with, Caroline was the best. Only he didn't want a girl at all. He could hardly tell her that.

“The life of a navy wife isn't pleasant. I'll be gone much of the time,” he said.

“My experiences with men have led me to believe that the less you are around, the better we will get along.”

Granger chuckled. “So you have lots of experience with men?” Probably not as much as I do, he thought.

“You insult my virtue,” she said, feigning offense. “I do not.”

“Would you like some?” Granger teased, giving her a suggestive look. She blushed and Granger felt a sense of triumph.

“You really are a cad George Granger. Although if I let you we wouldn't be pawns now would we?” She smiled at him and batted her eyelashes.

“No we wouldn't,” he said. “But I'm sailing out tomorrow, and I couldn't leave you like that Caroline. You are enough to tempt a saint though.”

She giggled. “And you are no saint. Now you must let me rejoin my friends or people will talk.”

Granger knelt down and grabbed her hand and kissed it. Then he ran his tongue across her knuckle. She laughed loudly at that, getting a reproving look from the lady that was escorting her. “I will see you when you return George Granger.”

Granger worked his way up to the Prince of Wales, bowing deeply. “Granger, back again? There's going to be a war and you're here at my party?”

“Yes Your Royal Highness, we leave tomorrow. I wanted to pay my respects and thank you for your letter of recommendation. I would not have passed my lieutenant's exam if it weren’t for you.”

“You're a good bloke Granger, but I did it for Bertie. Asked me to watch out for you before he went to India, you and that friend of yours, Travers. Said he had to make some money so he could come back and lose it all to me again,” he said, then broke out laughing.

“Your Royal Highness has been Bertie's inspiration so I'm sure he'll do well in India,” Granger said, bowing as he took his leave.

“I should rejoin my ship, Father,” Granger said as the coach drove up to St. James' Palace.

“You can pay your respects to your sovereign first. You went to see the Prince of Wales, you cannot leave without seeing the King too,” the Earl said firmly. Granger understood then, and knew that his father was much more tuned in to Royal politics than he was.

“The Right Honorable Earl of Bridgemont, Acting Lieutenant the Honorable George Granger,” announced the chamberlain. They made their way to the throne, just as they did last time, with the Earl parting the crowd like the Barracuda sailing through a cluster of fishing boats.

They bowed deeply as they approached the throne, and then as they drew nearer they bowed again. “We are pleased to see the Earl of Bridgemont in good health,” said the King.

“Thank you, your Majesty. It is equally good to see your Majesty in such good health.” The King nodded.

“We have noticed you have been promoted, Lieutenant,” said the King.

“I must thank your Majesty for that,” said Granger. It was amazing how much more relaxed he felt around the Prince of Wales than the King. That seemed to end their interview, and they moved off.

He wandered over to the buffet table, hungry as usual, and saw the First Lord. “Granger. Aren't you supposed to be back on board your ship?”

“Yes my lord. I came to take my leave of the King, and now I'm heading down to the ship.”

“Well, your dilly-dallying will save me from sending a special messenger. I'll see you at the Admiralty shortly, and give you Sir Evelyn's orders. Then you can take a barge to the ship, much smoother and faster for you.”

“Thank you my lord. I will attend you shortly then,” Granger said, doffing his hat and making a slight bow. He found his father and explained that he absolutely HAD to go now, and found himself in the carriage with the Earl once again.

“This Wilcox business is Bertie's fault,” the Earl said.

“Father?” Granger asked, wondering what Bertie could have done.

“Seems Bertie and one of the Wilcox men fought a duel over some point of honor. Pistols. Wilcox missed Bertie, but Bertie put a bullet in the man's leg, so now he can hardly walk. So they've made it a point to make your life more difficult. I'm sorry son.” Granger stared at his father, who seemed so sad.

“It's alright Father. I made it past one of them to pass my examination.” He relayed the details to him, the part that he'd omitted before. “I know I can rely on you to watch out for me here.”

“Of course. Those Wilcoxes will be lucky if they're posted to the Sea Fencibles when I'm done,” he said, referring to the equivalent of the Coast Guard.

“I ran into Caroline Haversham at Carlton House last night,” Granger said, changing the subject. “She informed me that there were discussions going on regarding our marriage.”

The Earl stared at his younger son, intensely irritated at having this news released to him before he could tell him himself. “It is an option, but there are others. You must trust me to make the best match for you.”

“I trust you Father, but I would not be opposed to Caroline. I think we would make a good team.”

The Earl eyed him carefully, a twinkle in his eye revealing the smile he was hiding, and just nodded. The carriage pulled up to the Admiralty. Granger shook his father's hand and bounded out of the carriage. The footman handed his trunk down and carried it inside for him.

“Lieutenant Granger?” asked an orderly. Granger smiled. This was the first time someone in the navy had addressed him using his new rank.

“Yes, I'm Granger.”

“Lord Chatham said to give you these orders. I'll need you to sign for them sir.” Granger jotted down his signature and then headed down to the quay, with a seaman in tow lugging his trunk. From there, it was a quick trip in the barge down to the Barracuda.

Granger mounted the side of the ship and saluted the quarterdeck. Dacres was there, supervising the loading of stores. “Welcome back Mr. Granger. So you passed your examination? Congratulations.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said. “It's nice to be back. Is the Captain aboard? I've brought orders from Lord Chatham.”

“In his cabin,” Dacres said. “I've assigned you to Mr. Travers’ old cabin, by the way.” Then Dacres went on about his business, effectively dismissing him.

Granger approached the Captain's cabin and the marine guard knocked. “Enter,” he heard the Captain say. Granger walked in and found the Captain seated at his desk with papers scattered all across it.

“Mr. Granger. Nice to see you. Good job on your examination. The whole fleet will know that Wilcox doesn't know an easterly from a westerly wind, although I daresay that won't endear you to them.”

“It's nice to see you too sir. I fear that no matter what I did the Wilcoxes would hold it against me. I did find out why they have it in for me.” Granger said this and remembered to hand Sir Evelyn his orders from the First Lord.

Sir Evelyn put them down and looked at him questioningly. “Well?”

“It seems that my brother Bertie fought a duel with one of the men of the Wilcox family and lodged a bullet in his leg.”

“Well that's bad form,” the Captain said. “Once blows are exchanged in a duel, honor is satisfied. To carry a grudge, to create a feud, is a dishonorable affair, certainly not something a gentleman would do.”

“Yes sir.” Granger hadn't really thought of that, but he was sure his father had.

“Very well. Go help Dacres. I'm sure we'll be off shortly.”

“Aye aye sir.”

February 1, 1793

The arms of the telegraph station whirred about, signaling to the station up the chain that it was ready to receive instructions. The Barracuda stood well out in the roads, waiting for the news of war that was certain to come, ready to become the hunter that she was designed to be. Now the telegraph was whirring again, moving its big wooden arms like some huge artificial man, directing its signals to Barracuda and the fleet.

“The message says ‘War’ sir,” said Gatling, one of the new midshipmen that had come aboard. There were three of them, all of them senior men, which bumped poor Clay down to the bottom of the pack just above Fletcher.

“Acknowledge Mr. Gatling. Mr. Dacres, we'll get under way,” the Captain said.

The whistles blew and Granger went forward to supervise the capstan. Some fifty men strained around it, pushing on the capstan bars, ever so slowly pulling the massive anchor up and stowing the cable in the tier below, while the fifer and drummer played ditties to give them a beat to heave to. It took a good two hours to raise the anchor, and by that time the Barracuda had all plain sail set and was heading down channel.

“Assemble the hands Mr. Dacres,” the Captain said. The drummer began his thumping, the same pattern to call the men to witness punishment. In fact, they all formed up just as they did for punishment, with the officers standing abreast on the quarterdeck in front of the marines, and the men in the waist below.

“Lads, no punishment today,” the Captain said playfully and the men cheered him. Morale was high. “You have always given me your best, made Barracuda the best frigate in the fleet, and now I'm going to have to ask you to do that and more. For we are at war.” There was a murmur among the men, and the marines for that matter.

“The Frogs have cut off the head of their King and declared war on the whole world, so we're off to teach them not to mess with England and the Royal Navy. We're heading for the Bay of Biscay, our job being to dish up any privateers we run into, and maybe even pick up a prize or two.” That brought a big cheer. He nodded to Dacres, who dismissed the men below.

“Double lookouts Mr. Dacres,” the Captain said. “We don't want to miss anything.” He looked about the deck carefully. “Mr. Granger, a word with you.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said and followed the Captain to his cabin. As soon as they were through the door the Captain pulled him in and kissed him.

“You are like an addiction. I think about you all the time, even when I'm fucking my wife I think of you. What is this spell you've cast on me?” the Captain asked.

“Maybe it's not a spell sir, maybe I just do a good job of taking care of you,” Granger said with considerable cheek. The Captain pulled Granger into his sleeping cabin and shut the door, then kissed him again. Then he broke the kiss and pushed Granger to his knees, pulling out his big cock while he did. Granger watched it quickly harden in front of him. The Captain pulled Granger’s head gently onto his dick and began to move slowly in and out of his mouth. He was firm and demanding with his thrusts, causing Granger to choke a few times, but his hands stroked Granger's face lovingly, caressing his cheeks and nose, and running his fingers through his hair. Granger found the contrast incredibly erotic. He heard the Captain moaning and then tasted the first spurt of his semen as he ejaculated into his mouth.

Granger swallowed willingly as the Captain lifted him back up to his feet and kissed him gently. “Thank you Mr. Granger. That will be all. For now.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said with a smile, and headed down to his cabin. There the smile disappeared and the loneliness returned. Granger smelled the sheets, the ones Travers had left, the ones that smelt of him. He felt a tear in his eye and fought it back but it was not to be. Instead he collapsed onto his cot, face down, and allowed the tears to flow into his pillow.

He knew he'd miss Travers, he knew this would be difficult, but just how difficult and how painful it was, well, that he'd totally underestimated. He felt like part of him was gone, as if he'd lost an arm or a leg. He felt incomplete, and it was even more agonizing to realize that they would probably never be able to share the intimacy they'd had before, that they'd never be able to be together like they had.

Then Granger really tortured himself, imagining Travers with another man, maybe a young midshipman anxious to please his Captain. A young midshipman with a willing ass, casting a spell on him, making him forget all about Granger. He reburied his face in his pillow again, totally miserable.

He must have drifted off to sleep, seeking the bliss of incoherence, because he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. “Time to wake up sir. It's almost your watch,” said Winkler urgently. As a lieutenant Granger was entitled to his own servant, and Winkler had jumped at the chance.

“Thanks Winkler,” he said, and took the warm cup of coffee he proffered. Granger headed onto the deck to relieve Bell.

“George, you're here just in time for the sunset. You'd think that with war just declared the sea would be full, but not a sail in sight. She's all yours.”

“Thanks. Enjoy a nap. I suspect we'll be busy tomorrow,” Granger said.

“Damn right we will. We've got a stint exercising the guns,” Bell said, grinning. He was almost as enthusiastic about the Barracuda's artillery as Travers was.

Granger walked over to the binnacle, checked the wheel, and then scanned the rigging and the set of the sails. Everything was in order, of course. Bell was a first rate lieutenant. Granger looked over to the lee side of the quarterdeck and saw Ballvin, one of the new midshipmen, pacing.

“Mr. Ballvin,” Granger called. Ballvin came running. “Sir?” he asked.

“Walk with me Mr. Ballvin,” Granger said, thinking about how Travers had said the same thing to him a little over a year ago. They walked quietly at first, Granger studying him surreptitiously as they pivoted. He was a handsome lad, probably about 16 years old, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, the kind of eyes you'd find on a pet spaniel. “What service have you seen?”

“I was on the Vectis sir, and spent the past year and a half in India. Although that's not actually long there, since it takes a year to get out and back.”

“What brought you to the Barracuda?”

“We got back to London and the Vectis paid off. Lord Howe, he's a cousin sir, and he got me posted here.” Ballvin sounded nervous about that.

“Well I'm glad he did. We'll need all our experienced hands now.” He could see Ballvin's smile as they turned.

“Begging your pardon sir, but I met your brother when I was in India.”

“Tell me about him,” Granger said, hiding his intense interest.

“He seemed to be a man on a mission sir. I'd seen him at court before we left, well, not court sir, but at Carlton House. Not meaning any disrespect sir, but he wasn't like he was there.”

Granger laughed. “You mean he wasn't a drunken, gambling, whore-chasing sod in India?”

Ballvin laughed with him. “That’s right sir. He was sober every time I saw him. He's probably the Governor there by now.”

“Thank you Mr. Ballvin. I was worried about him, but you have put my mind at ease.”

“Sir, if there's ever anything I can do for you, just let me know,” Ballvin said as they pivoted. Granger looked into his eyes and recognized that look, the same look he'd given Travers.

“I'll try to think of something Mr. Ballvin. By the way, has Mr. Woodward shown you how to test the well yet?”

“Yes sir,” Ballvin said nervously.

“And was it a good experience?”

He was positively quaking now, Granger saw, and had a hard time stifling his laughter at poor Ballvin's discomfort. “It was instructive sir.” Granger just nodded and smiled. Some things never changed.

Granger's watch passed by peacefully, an almost eerie calm. They were at war now, a French squadron could appear out of nowhere and they could be fighting for their lives with no notice at all. It made what used to be a normal duty, keeping a watch, seem like an incredibly responsible effort.

Dacres came up to relieve him. “I've come from the Captain's cabin. He asked me to send you down.”

“Do you know what he wants sir?” Granger asked.

“Mr. Granger, I don't question orders and neither should you,” he said, clearly on edge.

“Aye aye sir.” He went down to the Captain's cabin and the marine let him in. Granger smiled when he saw that the Captain wasn't at his desk, and headed to his sleeping cabin. He opened the door and saw the Captain lying on his cot, stark naked, his huge cock sticking out like a lighthouse.

“I was having a problem sleeping and I was wondering if you would help me out Mr. Granger,” he said with a leer.

“Aye aye sir,” said Granger, and tossed his jacket on the chair, took off his shoes, and then his trousers, until he stood there in front of the Captain stark naked. The Captain stared at him strangely, and Granger realized that he hadn't been naked in front of the Captain since they'd hauled him out of the water near Toulon. Granger had always been dressed, and the Captain had been nude. “Is this OK sir?”

“It's fine. You are a vision, a vision of beauty,” the Captain said. Granger moved over to the bed and lay on top of him, positioning his ass so the Captain's dick would slide up and down his crack.

“Sir, please, I want to break the law with you. Please fuck me,” Granger said softly into his ear.

“We can't do this, we can't,” the Captain said, but Granger wasn't taking no for an answer.

“Please sir, please, I'm begging you. I want to feel you inside me so bad. I promise I'll make you feel so good.” The Captain moaned and thrust up toward him. Granger reached over and grabbed the jar next to the cot, the stuff the Captain used when he masturbated, and rubbed some on his ass and on the Captain's cock. Then he aimed the huge dick at his hole, gritted his teeth, and sat down on it, absorbing him completely in one long, slow, movement.

Granger felt his insides boiling with this huge intruder, but it didn't take him long to adapt. He began to slowly move up and down on the Captain's pole, enjoying the feel of him inside, and the sound of his gentle moans as he let Granger's ass pleasure him. There was a rogue wave that screwed up his rhythm and the Captain popped out of his ass. He took that opportunity to push Granger onto his cot, onto his stomach, and lie on his back, driving his cock back into him.

“Is this what you wanted? You wanted my big dick in your ass? You wanted me to fuck you?” the Captain asked, whispering intensely into Granger's ear.

“Yes, yes sir, this is what I wanted,” Granger moaned. The Captain was really fucking him now, really pounding into his ass, driving his huge dick deep inside Granger then pulling out just as quickly. The sensations, the feel of the Captain’s huge, muscular body on top of him pinning him down, his throbbing cock slamming into his magic spot, the soft sheets rubbing against his own cock with each thrust, and the Captain's sensuous words and hot breath as he whispered in Granger's ear set him over the edge. Granger buried his head in the pillow and shrieked in ecstasy as he shot his load, blast after blast, onto the cot. He heard the Captain grunt in his ear as he came with him, then felt sad when he popped out of him and rolled off.

Granger got up and immediately began putting his clothes on, lest someone need the Captain and interrupt. He took the Captain's rag and wiped his cum off his sheets. “I'm sorry I was a bit rough Mr. Granger. It won't happen again,” the Captain said, a guilty look on his face.

Granger smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “Sir, that was amazing. It felt wonderful. I'm sorry if you didn't enjoy it, but I did, and I'm hoping it happens again. And again. And again.”

The Captain smiled and shook his head. “Well, we'll see about that.” He pulled Granger in for one more kiss, and then Granger headed back to his cabin. He still missed Travers, but the pain wasn't as intense as it had been just a few hours ago.