The Gunroom - 9. Chapter 9

HMS Barracuda swung to her anchor at Spithead, waiting for orders, waiting for supplies, just waiting. Granger found himself on watch, a thankless job in port. There were probably a hundred women below with the men, the orgiastic scene enough to make even the most libertine person blush. There would be fights, there would be arguments, and he would be responsible for handling them.

As if he had willed it, a seaman approached him and saluted briskly. “Mr. Granger sir, there's a fight below.”

“Pass the word, call the guard.” A few seconds later ten marines poured below, and the commotion abruptly ended. Nothing like a bayonet to make a drunken seaman think better of fighting. The marines came up, pushing along two seamen.

“We found this one 'ere sitting on top of the other one pummelin' him, sir,” said the marine corporal.

“Banks, Meacham, what the bloody hell is wrong with you? You know better than that,” Granger said severely. He amazed himself at how much self-confidence he'd gotten in just a few months aboard. They said nothing, just looked at the deck sheepishly.

“Banks, you're on the foretop, Meacham, you've got the main top. Get up there and keep a good lookout for the Captain. I'll try to remember to relieve you.” They smiled and saluted, then tore off to their respective masts. The marine looked at him curiously. It was a remarkably lenient punishment for fighting. “Thank you corporal,” he said, dismissing the man.

Granger started pacing again. The men were bored; they needed something to do. The Captain normally found things for them to do, but he'd been ashore. For the first time, Granger found something to fault Mr. Preston for, although he'd never say anything. It would be rude, and worse, it would be insubordinate.

Travers came up on the almost deserted deck and smiled at him, making sure no one else noticed. He fell in step with Granger. “I heard there was some commotion.”

“Yes sir,” said Granger. He was proud of himself for slipping right back into routine, and never forgetting to say “sir” to Travers. “A couple of the lads got into a fight. I sent them aloft to keep a lookout.”

“Awfully lenient don't you think?” he asked.

“They're bored sir,” Granger said. “We need to give them something to do. Maybe gun drill?”

Travers smiled at that. “That's a good idea. I'll check that with Mr. Preston.” He lowered his voice. “It's been two days. I miss you.”

Granger grinned back. “I miss you too. Maybe when I'm off watch we can check the well or something?” That was the carpenter's job, but checking up on him wasn't a bad idea, and being alone in the hold with Travers was definitely not a bad idea.

“We'll see.”

“Deck there!” yelled Meacham. “Boat's pushing off. Looks like the Captain.”

“Alert Mr. Dailey,” Granger said to the boy next to him. There was a seaman looking at him dumbly, so Granger decided to give him something to do. “My compliments to Mr. Preston and the Captain is returning.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said smartly and dashed off.

Granger looked at Travers; he had an idiotic grin on his face. “What?” he asked playfully.

“I'm just admiring how fast you've come along, and how well you handle responsibility and command.”

Granger felt himself blushing “Thank you sir.” Then in a whisper. “That's not what I want to handle though.” They both chuckled until they saw Mr. Preston coming up.

Preston strode over to Travers. “Have you alerted Mr. Dailey? Are the sideboys at hand?”

“No sir. Mr. Granger has the watch. He's handled it.” Preston gave Granger a brief look, with almost a smile.

The boat tied on to the Barracuda and the Bosun's whistle started blowing slightly before the Captain’s head appeared at the deck level and continued until he was on board. There were four sideboys with snow white gloves on their hands, the sign of courtesy a ship paid to a captain. He strode confidently to the quarterdeck, followed by a tall man, probably in his mid 20s, who looked somewhat unkempt and disorganized.

“Good afternoon gentlemen. This is Dr. Morris. Dr. Carker is not feeling well enough to go to sea. I hope you gentlemen will show him the courtesy of the wardroom?” Granger chuckled internally. Carker was a drunk and a quack, and the Captain had obviously jettisoned him.

“Aye aye sir,” Travers and Preston said. Granger said nothing, as he had nothing to do with the wardroom.

“The good doctor plays the flute as well Mr. Granger, so you may have some competition,” the Captain observed.

“Yes sir. It's a good thing I brought my clarinet with me when I came back from London then,” Granger said with a smile, being just a little cheeky.

“A clarinet? One of those newfangled things? How marvelous. You must join me for dinner and play a bit afterward.”

“Thank you sir, it would be my pleasure,” Granger said.

The Captain turned to the other officers. “Travers, you and the doctor may join us as well. And you too Mr. Preston, if you like. You can escape after we dine to avoid the serenade.”

“Aye aye sir,” Preston said, answering for all of them. Travers led the doctor down to the wardroom to help him stow his things, while Preston lurked on the deck.

“Has Mr. Clay settled into the Midshipman's berth well?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” replied Granger. He was going to leave it at that, but Preston stared at him, obviously wanting more. “He's a good lad sir. He's conscientious, considerate, and he's a good friend.”

“He's also my nephew,” Preston observed icily.

“We'll try to be nice to him despite that sir,” Granger said respectfully, but very daringly, joking with the frigid First Lieutenant. Preston smiled and almost chuckled, then got back to business.

“I understand you had some problems with Banks and Meacham?”

“Yes sir. Just a little quarrel. I sent them up to spend some time on the masthead sir,” Granger said.

“You didn't think to report it to me, Mr. Granger?” There was that icy tone again.

“No sir. It seemed much too trivial a matter to bother you with. If I was mistaken sir, I'm sorry.” Granger was nervous now.

“That's fine Mr. Granger. You handled the situation adequately.” And then Preston turned on his heel and walked off, and it dawned on Granger that Preston was teasing him, in his own stunted way.

Dinner was a fun, jovial event. It included all the officers except the redoubtable Yule, who volunteered to take the watch. The Captain once again put out a huge spread of food, excellent food. He seemed to be in an outstanding mood, but the rest of the officers said nothing, they just enjoyed his pleasant side.

“I understand you put in a good word for me with the Prince Mr. Granger,” the Captain said.

“Yes sir,” Granger said, gulping. “He sends you his regards and wants you to play hazard with him again.”

“I'll bet he does. Wants a piece of my purse is all,” the Captain joked. There was a knock on the door and Winkler entered nervously. He had come back aboard with Granger and had been assigned as the gunroom servant.

“G-g-guardboat brought this s-s-sir,” he stammered. He handed the packet to the Captain and eyed all the food on the table. He was like the rest of the young lads on board, hungry most of the time.

“Thank you Mr. Winkler. And how is your leg?” The Captain asked, graciously inquiring about Winkler's injury first and foremost.

“Right well, thank you sir. Mr. Granger got me a doctor in London to pull out the rest of the shards,” Winkler said excitedly, and then got nervous again.

“That's terrific news,” said the Captain, and then strolled over to his desk to get his penknife to open the thick canvas bag.

“I'd like to look at your leg later on,” Dr. Morris said to him. He seemed to sense Winkler's nervousness. “Just to see the work of my colleague in London.”

“Certainly sir,” Winkler said, and fled from the cabin.

“Well gentlemen, orders at last. Would you all like to know what we're to be about this time?” the Captain said jovially. The assembled officers said nothing to that rhetorical question. “We're to escort two John Company ships bound for India.” He watched their collective faces sag. A trip to India and back would probably absorb more than a year of their lives. “You'll be pleased to know, though, that we're only taking them as far as St. Helena.” The looks brightened considerably. “It seems there's been some pirate activity off the coast of Africa, and even though John Company ships are well-armed, they're carrying troops and their officers, so no one wants the lads to fall into evil hands.”

After dinner their little trio grew to a quartet, as the doctor played along. Granger saw him make some of the same mistakes he'd made in the beginning as he learned how the Captain timed his rhythm, but he was glad he'd brought his clarinet. Without it, he'd be outclassed by the doctor, who was quite good with the flute. The Captain had been fascinated by the clarinet, which had made it that much better.

Granger liked Morris. He was shy and unassuming unless he talked about music or medicine. He had wispy hair that seemed determined to lie in an unkempt manner and calm green eyes that lit up when he was animated. Best of all, he had a long, willowy body, and it made all of his moves seem sensual.

The winter weather was upon them with a fury, the huge Atlantic rollers pounding all three ships as they headed south. Granger found that he spent much of his time shivering, unless he and Travers managed to arrange one of their quick, secret trysts. Just the thought of the last one made him smile. He looked over to Travers and their eyes met and they both smiled now, remembering together.

“Hesperus is signaling sir,” screamed one of the lookouts. Granger grabbed the telescope and tried to make out the signals, but the wind was blowing the flags away from him. The intent became clear soon enough as she began to heave to.

“Bloody hell,” said Travers. “Go inform the Captain that Hesperus has heaved to.”

Granger got to the cabin and the marine knocked but there was no answer. The Barracuda was creaking so loudly it wasn't any great surprise. The marine shrugged and opened the door for him. Granger walked into the sanctuary, incredibly nervous. The Captain was not in his day cabin or at his desk. Granger checked the chartroom, but he wasn't there either.

He gently opened the door of the Captain's sleeping cabin and there he was, lying on his cot, only he wasn't sleeping. He had his pants down to his ankles and was stroking his own cock, a loving, slow stroke. Granger felt his own cock rising, knew he was tenting big time, but he couldn't do anything about that. He saw the Captain's expression, the ecstasy he was experiencing at his own hand, then looked back at the man’s dick. It was large, probably as long as Bell's, but much thicker. A challenge, Granger thought with a smile. Then, without warning, it began to spurt out the Captain's load, blasting all over a cloth the Captain had there, evidently just for that purpose. Granger gently closed the door, waited for a few minutes, and then knocked.

“Come in,” the Captain said. Granger entered the sleeping cabin as if it was the first time he was walking in, although there was no mistaking the odor of sex in the room. The Captain had managed to pull up his pants and compose himself in those brief minutes between his ejaculation and Granger's re-entry. The Captain stared at him and grinned. Granger looked down and his own dick was tenting his pants, sticking practically straight out. Granger felt himself blush furiously and reached down to adjust his pants. “Did you have a reason for being here?”

“I'm sorry sir. Hesperus has hove to.”

The captain sighed, frustrated. “Bloody merchants. I'll come up. We'll have to heave to as well.” Granger fled up to the deck with the Captain following at a more dignified pace.

“Call the watch Mr. Travers,” the Captain said. “We'll heave to.” And heave to they did, another deft maneuver by the Captain. Granger found himself longing to have just a fraction of his seamanship. The Captain gave him an odd look, and then retreated back to his cabin, leaving Granger mortified.

The watch had ended and they were being incredibly daring. They were in Travers’ tiny cabin, which he had ingeniously reconfigured to provide room enough for Granger to hide if there was a knock on the door. Granger was impressed with how clearly he'd thought things through. Travers had pulled his cot out from the wall, about a foot, and the chest underneath it as well, leaving a cavity that Granger could slip into and hide if he needed to. That made the riskiest part of the whole encounter getting Granger into and out of the wardroom, but even that wasn't too hard. It was pretty easy for Granger to explain his presence in the wardroom.

They stripped down completely and climbed into bed together, their bodies meeting, and then their lips. Travers rolled over on top of Granger and thrust against him, grinding his cock against Granger's, while they enjoyed the feel of each other's bodies. Travers made to roll Granger over but Granger stopped him.

“Drink me,” he said. “I want to taste you. Do me first.” Travers got a big smile and moved his mouth down Granger's body, his chest, his abdomen, until he found his young cock, erect and throbbing. He took Granger into his mouth and sucked him earnestly, keeping him on edge until he couldn't handle it anymore, and then swallowing every drop of his essence as Granger blasted his load into Travers' mouth.

Granger smiled and kissed this man that he loved so much and pushed him onto his back and repeated his moves, inhaling Travers’ cock, the perfect dick to suck on. Granger licked it, running his tongue along the edges, memorizing every engorged vein, the distinct shape of its head, the way it smelled, and the way it tasted. He reached over and grabbed the lube and put some on his finger, gently applying it to Travers' hole, playing with the rim while he gently sucked on his dick.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Travers asked, breathless. Granger just shook his head and pushed his finger in gently, sucking his dick and probing his ass until he found that spot that felt so good, the one that had turned his own ass into a pleasure center. Travers groaned, only remembering to stifle it at the last minute, and thrust up into Granger's mouth. He started to lose control, his ass loose now, savoring the feel of Granger's probing finger, and his dick hard as a rock, driving into the back of Granger's throat. He emitted a muffled moan and then he came, almost drowning Granger with the huge amount of semen.

Granger moved up to his chest, his elbows on Travers' pectoral muscles, grinning as he licked his lips seductively. “I love the way you taste,” he said.

“You are such a little slut,” Travers said playfully. “God, how I love you.” They just lay there for a while, enjoying the afterglow of sex and the warmth that was so hard to find on the tossing ship in this wintry weather.

“I interrupted the Captain when you sent me to fetch him,” Granger said to Travers.

“He wasn't alone?” Travers was totally alert now.

“He was alone, pleasuring himself.” Granger said this with his impish grin.

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I didn't know what to do, so I watched him finish off and then closed the door, waited a few minutes, knocked again, and pretended like nothing happened. Except my dick was tenting out my trousers.” Travers laughed at that.

“So what's he like?”

Granger pretended to look thoughtful. “He's a nice man, kind and caring, worries about his crew. An amazing seaman...” Travers cut him off by tickling him.

“That's not what I meant.”

“He's pretty long, and pretty thick, and he looks pretty damn sexy when he's beating off.”

Travers smiled. “And you didn't help him?”

“Shit, I was afraid he'd lash me to the bowsprit if I interrupted him.”

“Do you think he saw you watching him?”

Granger thought about that. “I don't think so. I don't know. But he pretended like nothing happened even if it did.”

“You should blow him. You're good at it,” Travers said.

“You trying to whore me out?” Granger countered.

“It's hard to justify keeping something so beautiful, so perfect, and so fabulous to myself.” Granger fell for his sweet talking skills and moved up to kiss him.

“Fuck me,” Granger ordered. And so Travers did just that.

Their new system seemed to be working perfectly, and for the past week Travers and Granger had spent much of their off-watch hours together in bed. Ironically, Granger was the more cautious of the two, trying to avoid glowing after being with Travers, and trying to carefully control his facial expressions when they were on watch together. Times like now.

A messenger approached the two officers, a ships boy, and nervously interrupted their walk. “The Captain's respects and he'd like to see you immediately Mr. Granger.” Granger nodded and the boy fled.

“Wonder what he wants?” Granger asked as he headed to the great man's cabin.

“One guess,” Travers said with a wink.

Granger approached the marine guard but he just nodded and opened the door. There was no need to knock since Granger was expected. He wandered into the cabin, just like last time, and saw that the Captain was not at his desk. Granger got a grin, an evil grin, and felt his dick start to rise. He headed over to the Captain's sleeping cabin to find the door slightly ajar. The Captain was lying on his cot just like last time, stroking his big dick, slowly but with a purpose. Granger was conscious that there was something incredibly sexy about a powerful man, especially a man who had the ability to punish him severely. But even if the Captain weren’t a powerful man, he'd still be damned sexy. Granger looked at his face and their eyes met, telling him that this was no mere coincidence.

Granger gently opened the door and walked into the cabin and shut the door behind him, his pants now tenting out just like last time. “You wanted to see me sir?” Granger asked, reporting in.

“I got the feeling that you wanted to see me,” the Captain said with a grin.

“Yes sir. Most definitely sir.” Granger knelt on the deck next to the Captain's cot, positioning himself near the Captain's throbbing dick. The Captain removed his hand, leaving his dick exposed. He had a pleading look in his eyes. “May I sir?” Granger asked, moving his hand forward slowly. The Captain nodded and smiled.

Granger put his hand on the Captain's thigh and moved it up to his groin, pausing to play with his balls, rolling each one around between his thumb and index finger. Then he moved his hand up, just his fingertips, just slightly touching the Captain's dick, teasing him with the sensation. Then Granger grabbed his dick firmly and began stroking him just as the Captain had done himself.

“You realize this is a crime punishable by hanging?” The Captain said, although he was having a hard time keeping his voice steady.

Granger leaned forward and kissed his nipple, sucking on it, nibbling. “Actually sir, if you'll allow me to contradict you, this isn't technically illegal. It's not buggery.”

“Indeed?” the Captain said. Granger kept up the slow, gentle strokes so they could have a conversation.

“Yes sir. Technically, according to the buggery laws, as long as there's no anal sex, there's no buggery.” Granger had done a little research on that topic when they'd been in London.

“So as long as I don't fuck you, we're not doing anything illegal?” the Captain asked.

“That's correct sir. So I can use my hand, sir, or even my mouth, if that would be alright with you sir.” Granger said this and licked his lips.

“Feel free to do anything that isn't illegal,” the great man said. Granger really grinned this time and lowered his mouth onto the Captain's cock, forcing his jaws open as wide as they could go because his dick was so wide. Granger went to work on it, enjoying the feel of the massive member as it pushed into his mouth, and as he forced it as far back into his throat as he could.

In Granger's mind, there was no man that could ever be more perfect than Travers. Still, the Captain's distinct odor, a masculine scent with a slight hint of another aroma that almost smelled like mustard; his taste, his pre-cum had the flavor of a good red wine; and the feel, the texture of his veins as they passed across Granger's lips, the way his fingers ran gently through Granger's hair, encouraging him but not forcing him; all of these sensations combined to make this the most intoxicating blow job he'd ever given.

He felt the Captain's balls rise up and knew that he was going to cum. The Captain grabbed his hair, trying to pull him off, warning him of the coming eruption, but Granger fought free, demanding his essence as payment for milking it out of him. Then erupt he did, but even then the contrasts were unbelievably erotic. The way his cock firmly, forcefully, and urgently thrust into his mouth and down his throat as he shot his seed, while his hand lovingly and gently massaged Granger's neck to encourage him.

The Captain smiled down at him, still stroking his hair. “Thank you Mr. Granger. That was truly superb.”

“No sir, thank you. I enjoyed that more than I can express,” Granger said sincerely. The Captain had a surprised look on his face. “I'd be happy to help you out any time you like sir.”

“I'd hate to incite my 2nd Lieutenant to mutiny,” the Captain said jovially.

“Sir?” asked Granger, horrified.

“I'm not blind Mr. Granger. It's quite clear you two are taken with each other. I'll just go on the assumption that you're not breaking the law.”

Granger grinned. “Thank you sir. And I'm sure that Mr. Travers won't mind at all.” The Captain raised an eyebrow, and then nodded, dismissing him.

Travers was waiting impatiently for him. “What happened? You were gone a long time.” Granger had checked his watch. He'd been gone all of twenty minutes.

They headed to the windward side and began walking. “I blew him.”

“You blew the Captain?” Travers asked, shocked.

“You're not mad are you?”

Travers laughed. “No, I'm jealous. I've had a crush on the Captain for years. I love you, you know that,” he added hastily, “but he is, well, I don't know how to say it.”

“He's a fucking stud,” Granger said reassuringly. “I feel the same way. He was worried you'd be upset.”

“He knows about us?” Travers asked, horrified. He'd stopped in his walk, and he couldn't move.

Granger nodded. “He seemed OK with it. I told him that I researched buggery laws in London and they only apply to anal sex. So technically it's not illegal if no one gets fucked.”

“So are you saying you don't want me to fuck you anymore?” Travers asked, concerned.

“No sir, I want your dick in my ass every chance I get. I'm just not going to admit to it.” They laughed at that, and after their watch, Travers smuggled Granger back to his cabin again and extracted the load from him that had been building up since Granger had blown the Captain.

The weather didn't moderate until they were beyond the Iberian peninsula, and that was fine with Granger. He was living a blissful existence. He had friends in the Midshipman's berth, he got to blow the Captain every other day or so, and his system with Travers was working perfectly, so he got laid all the time. And that was just his personal life. Professionally, he was growing, evolving from a landsman into a true sailor. He was starting to understand how things worked, and how to make them work. He watched the Captain heave the ship to, or tack, and he could anticipate the orders he gave, feel the ship move and intuitively decide when the time was right to put the wheel down, or man the braces.

“Deck there! Boat pushing off from Hesperus!” cried the lookout. Granger cringed. What now?

“Mr. Granger, alert the Captain please,” Travers said.

He ran back to the Captain's cabin, a place he was getting to know pretty well. The marine guard smiled at him. Shit. Then he knocked loudly. “Enter!” he heard the Captain say.

“Mr. Granger,” the Captain said pleasantly. “Back so soon?” He'd performed his oral magic on the Captain a few hours ago.

“If you like sir,” Granger said coquettishly, “but I'm here primarily to inform you that there's a boat heading toward us from Hesperus.”

“So it begins,” he said.

“Sir?” asked Granger.

“Now that the weather has moderated, we'll be expected to socialize with our army and merchant colleagues. This will undoubtedly be an invitation to dinner, and then we'll have to reciprocate.”

“I see sir,” said Granger, although he had to admit, the thought of a feast had a definite appeal.

The Captain strode past him and allowed his hand to slide across Granger's ass. “You're tempting me to do something illegal Mr. Granger.”

Granger smiled. “I'm sorry sir. I'll try to satisfy you so you can stay within the letter of the law.”

The Captain stopped and pulled Granger to him, their bodies smashed together and held there by the Captain's strong arm. “What if I want to break the law?” he breathed into Granger's ear.

“Then I will be your partner in crime sir,” Granger said. He swallowed hard. He had a commitment to Travers, had made a promise to the man he loved, but the Captain was the Captain, so he had no choice. Or did he?

They arrived on deck in time to find the boat hooking onto the chains and to see a man climbing through the entry port. Actually, the man was rather hidden by his resplendent uniform. Bright red coat with gleaming gold epaulettes, snow white shirt and breeches, white silk stockings without a single snag, and polished boots with bright gold buckles. Granger suddenly regretted that he was in his working uniform, and a glance around at his shabby colleagues made him even more embarrassed.

The soldier saluted the quarterdeck and strode purposefully toward the Captain. “Good morning Sir Evelyn. I am Colonel Sir Richard Ramsey.” He bowed ceremoniously, his big star, the one he'd gotten with his knighthood, seemed to bang against his chest.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Sir Richard,” the Captain said in a friendly manner. “Won't you come below for a glass?” And with that they disappeared below. Travers and Granger found a corner of the deck to talk privately.

“Sir, what do I do if the Captain wants to fuck me? I don't know if he will, but he hinted at it.” Granger was bothered by this, because he didn't want to betray Travers, but he wanted to be with the Captain. The man had a strong sex appeal, an appeal that was almost irresistible.

“Then let him fuck you. It's alright.” Granger looked at Travers, surprised by his words, and even more surprised that his expression didn't seem to show any sadness or resentment.

“But that breaks our vows,” said Granger. He wasn't so sure he would be so understanding if Travers wanted to fuck someone else.

Travers looked around to make sure there was no one listening. “George, I know you love me, and I know that you want to be with me. That strengthens me, and I tell myself that even if you're with other people, you're thinking of me.”

Granger smiled at him. “You know me so well. That's exactly what I do. If I could, I'd spend my whole life with you.”

Travers looked around, getting nervous at such intimate talk on the deck. “We can talk about that later.” And they grinned at each other, but only for a moment.

The Captain returned. “Mr. Granger, Mr. Travers, Mr. Bell” he said, demanding the attention of those three individuals. It was providential that Bell had just arrived on deck to relieve Granger.

“Yes sir?” said Travers, answering for all of them.

“We've been invited to dine on board the Hesperus. We leave in 30 minutes. I suggest you prepare yourselves.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said, and scrambled down to their respective cabins to dig out their best uniforms in a futile attempt to look as resplendent as Colonel Sir Richard Ramsey.

They gathered at the side of the ship at the time specified by the Captain, and Granger smiled at how well they looked. They'd give Sir Richard a run for his money in the personal appearance contest. They took the Captain's gig, his own personal boat. Like most successful captains, Sir Evelyn had spent his own money to give the best possible impression of his ship. The gig itself was painted white with yellow accents, and the barge crew wore outfits of white pants and yellow jackets. The Hesperus piped the Captain aboard in Royal Navy fashion.

The first thing Granger noticed was the size of the ship. The Hesperus, while a merchantman, had the size of a ship of the line. Compared to the Barracuda, the deck was huge, much wider, and a bit longer as well. The Captain of the ship met them at the entry port and graciously led them below to a massive cabin Granger was to learn was the equivalent of the wardroom for the military officers.

Granger followed his Captain into the broad room and greeted General Sir Alexander Craftsman, in charge of the deployment, along with the various colonels and lieutenants that were invited. Granger had made the circuit of the room and was about to head to the table to try and fill his perennially empty stomach when a familiar voice cut through the fog of the reception.

“Georgie, I was hoping to see you before we parted company.”

Granger turned, stunned. “Bertie. What are you doing here?”