The Wardroom - 25. Chapter 25

February 15, 1794

Granger entered the familiar building and signed in at the register: Lieutenant George Granger to see Lord Chatham by appointment. He wrote ‘by appointment’ with relief as he looked around the busy waiting room, full of officers seeking assignments, promotions, or any number of favors. Most of them would wait here for hours and never get an audience, but if they had no influence, no one to pull strings for them, there was very little alternative other than to sit around and beg.

It was ironic that while there were officers clamoring for jobs, finding seamen was a damned difficult enterprise. Seamen would much rather sail aboard a merchantman, where the pay was better, the conditions were better, and the food was better. The only thing the Royal Navy could offer a sailor that could counter that was the potential for prize money, and even that was skewed so the bulk of it went to the captain and his officers. Where men could not be induced to enlist, they would be pressed, seized on the streets and forced into a life of service in the Royal Navy. It was an insidious system, but if England were to survive, there wasn't much of an alternative.

“Mr. Granger?” a voice said. He looked up to see a familiar face.

“Mr. Carmody!” Granger exclaimed, and jumped up to shake Carmody’s hand warmly. “You must sit and tell me how you came to be here.”

“You mean how did I escape from France?” he asked with a smile.

“That would be part of it, yes,” Granger said, still smiling back.

“Those papers you got me, those saved my life. Poor Bouvet was locked up as soon as we got to France. You'd expect the Frenchies to welcome back their sailors since they were loyal to the government, but they did no such thing. They treated them like revolutionaries and threw them in prison.”

“All of them?” Granger asked, aghast.

“Apollon made it to Rochefort and as soon as we got in they marched everyone off the ship and right into prison, me included. Then they threw this tribunal together and executed ten of the officers. I'm not sure what happened to the crew, because by then they'd seen my pass from those Frogs you met with. That impressed them, and they arranged for a fishing boat to take me out to a patrolling frigate. The frigate brought me home.”

“So what did you do after that?” Granger asked.

Carmody's face changed then, from happiness at seeing Granger to sadness. “I was appointed to the sloop Intrepid as Second Lieutenant. She was under the command of Commander Flowers. She's a beautiful ship, a joy to sail, or at least she was. Flowers put her aground off Brest and put a huge hole in her. It was all we could do to get her back here.”

“Intrepid. We captured a French corvette in the Bay of Biscay last year named Intrepide,” Granger said.

“That's the ship. Then you know her,” Carmody said. Apparently the Admiralty had Anglicized her name by dropping the last “e”.

“I do. Where is she now? How did you put her aground?”

“We brought her into Portsmouth, but it seems someone brought the whole bloody French fleet into that harbor so we had to make temporary repairs and sail her up to Deptford, which is where she is now.” He grinned at Granger when he referenced the French fleet, but then his expression changed again. “Flowers was trying to close in and seize some of their coasters. The lookout sighted the rock, and we tried to get him to alter course, but he was too slow, too drunk, and ran her alongside the thing. It ripped her planking clean off, should have sunk us but for the First Lieutenant keeping his head and fothering a sail over her hull.”

“What happened to Flowers?” Granger asked.

“He sobered up, realized what he'd done, and hung himself in his cabin. The poor First Lieutenant, a bloke named Grimes, will end up taking the fall for it, and I probably will too.”

“So are you ordered to be here?” Granger asked.

Carmody nodded. “I'm supposed to be here at 10:00am, but I got here early just to make sure I wasn't late. I haven't had the best of luck in my career.”

A clerk stopped in front of them. “Lieutenant Granger?” Granger stood up promptly. “His lordship will see you now.” Granger barely had time to nod at Carmody as he followed the clerk briskly.

“Ah Granger,” said Chatham in a surprisingly friendly manner. “Congratulations on the birth of your son.”

“Thank you my lord,” Granger said, grinning like an idiot. It seemed to happen involuntarily whenever someone mentioned his son.

“I trust Caroline is well?”

“Yes my lord, although she's still a bit tired. I must thank your lordship for asking me here so I can avoid the bevy of ladies that will no doubt be calling all day long.”

Chatham laughed. “I should have made you wait longer. Perhaps you should go back out into the waiting room.”

“I think I'd rather see the bevy of ladies, my lord,” Granger said.

“Well, I need to get you out of the way Granger. You're becoming a thorn in my side.”

Granger looked at him, truly alarmed. “Indeed my lord? I certainly didn't mean to be problematic.”

“I have everyone from the King and the Prince of Wales down to your friend Teasdale telling me that someone of your talent deserves his own command. Never mind that you haven't quite spent a year as a lieutenant, never mind that you only spent a little over a year before that at sea, no, none of that matters,” Chatham said, frustrated. “It seems that if I am to have any peace of mind at all, any relief from their incessant nagging, I'm going to have to do just that.”

“I'm sorry if they have bothered you my lord,” Granger said sincerely. “If they are a little too zealous in promoting my interests, I will ask them to relent.”

Chatham stared at him oddly. “Well, I happen to agree with them. You have a talent for leadership, you're a fast thinker, and you've got energy and courage. So I'm giving you your own ship.”

Granger tried not to smile but he just couldn't. All of his training, all of his practiced stoicism couldn't hold back his facial muscles. “Thank you very much, my lord.”

“You're thanking me before you even know what I'm giving you?” Chatham asked. Granger realized he was being taunted, which meant that Chatham was going to give him a plum assignment.

“I will go where you send me my lord, willingly.”

“There was an unfortunate accident off of Brest with the ship you and Captain Travers captured, the Intrepid. Her Captain opted to get himself stinking drunk and smashed her up against a rock. He hung himself, saving me the trouble, and I've pulled her First Lieutenant for other reasons. She needs a Captain, so I'm giving her to you.”

Granger just stared at him, shocked and amazed. The Intrepid was one of the best small ships in the navy. Well-armed, well-sparred, fast and handy, he'd be able to range across the waves as a hunter, not prey. He'd expected a cutter, or maybe a small brig, something with small guns and timbers. Instead, he'd gotten one of the best sloops ever built. Chatham was staring at him. “I don't know how to thank your lordship.”

“You can thank me by not running her on the rocks like Flowers did. Anyway, your orders are waiting for you outside. You'll have to supervise her refit, no mean feat with the dockyards overworked and understaffed. And you have an additional problem to face.” Granger stared at him, waiting. “She's been stripped of men. Even her warrant officers were taken by the press after she warped into the dock. All you've got is a lieutenant, and my next job is to cashier him.”

“You mean Lieutenant Carmody my lord?” Granger asked.

“You know him?”

“Yes my lord. We served together in Toulon. He volunteered to sail with the deportee fleet. A brave man my lord. Would it be possible for him to remain on board?”

“You want him, eh? Very well. We'll have to drum up a new First Lieutenant for you. You willing to trust my judgment?” Chatham asked. One of those poor sods in the waiting room, no doubt. One who had made a special plea to Chatham or a favor he needed to repay.

“Of course my lord,” Granger said. “Please though, no one with the last name, Wilcox.” Chatham laughed at that. “Can I have the crew I brought back from the Mediterranean? The men on the Commerce de Marseilles? There are two master's mates, a gunner, a coxswain, and about 30 seamen. Then they could help the dockyard finish her up more quickly.”

“I'll send orders to Portsmouth,” Chatham said.

“Thank you my lord. Two more things, if you don't mind.”

“Go on,” he said cautiously.

“The French lieutenant, Meurice, the man familiar with French ship design. I'd like to enlist his help, with your permission my lord.”

“Granted. That works out well, gives us a chance to evaluate him. What else?”

“I have a proposal from the other French officers, the ones who wanted to fit out a privateer. I've brought a copy of it here, my lord,” Granger said, handing it to Chatham. “They want the brig Amelie, but they're assuming the Navy will buy her.”

“I'll review it and let them know. They staying at Bridgemont House?”

“Yes my lord.”

“Good. Now is that all Commander?”

Granger smiled at him again. Commander. “Yes my lord. And thank you again my lord.” Chatham just nodded, dismissing him.

Granger floated out of the office and almost knocked the clerk over, so absorbed was he in his thoughts. “The Intrepid sir?” the clerk asked. Granger nodded. “Please wait here.” The clerk vanished into Chatham's office and came out a few minutes later. “Here are your orders sir,” he said, handing Granger the envelope, that familiar Admiralty stationery. “I'll dispatch orders to send those men of yours up here. They'll march them along, unless they're willing to pay for conveyance.”

“I will pay for them to be transported up here. Thank you for arranging it,” Granger said. He gave the clerk several guineas to cover the cost, then took his orders and left. Carmody wasn't in the waiting room when he left, so he must be in with Chatham, Granger thought. He wasn't sure why he'd asked to retain him. He'd seen Carmody on board Victory and hadn't been impressed. He'd been a bit of a bully then, a man who seemed unhappy and dour.

Granger headed home to share his news with his family. Caroline was thrilled for him, and happy that he'd get to spend some time in London while the Intrepid was refitted. But she sensed how anxious he was, and she had visitors to receive, so Granger was able to escape from the house with Poulin, Meurice, Jeffers, and Winkler, and head to his new command.

“I asked permission to enlist your help in refitting the Intrepid,” Granger told Meurice, cutting short their congratulatory remarks.

“You mean the Intrepide?” Meurice asked. “She is a beautiful ship, one of our best corvettes. But since her launch, there have been some revisions to the structural rigidity of her class. We can add some additional framing and significantly reduce the amount of work she will do in heavy seas.”

That would make her leak a lot less, and mean a lot less time on the pumps for the men. “That would be wonderful. You may find our dockyards less than pleasant to work with though,” Granger said. This was going to cost him a small fortune, he thought, if only in bribes.

“I find that difficult to believe after dealing with French dockyards, sir. There are never enough resources or skilled men,” Meurice said.

“I fear that is the case at any dockyard,” Granger said, then turned to Poulin. “I left your proposal with his lordship. He promised to review it, and I told him you were staying with us so he could contact you there.”

“Thank you sir. In the mean time, maybe I can be of help in fitting out the Intrepid?”

“Well, until our contingent from Portsmouth arrives, it will be just the five of us, so your help would be most welcome.” Granger felt the coach stop as he finished his last sentence and he exited smartly. “Pick us up at 5:00pm,” he ordered the coachman, and then strode into the large building that was the dockyard. He was stopped by a guard, and then escorted to a rather drab office inhabited by a large round man with a ruddy face, the color that suggested the person behind it drank far too much.

“And you are?” the man asked rudely.

“George Granger,” he said formally, “Commander of the Intrepid.”

“So you're the next wonder that will come in and toss her on the rocks eh?” he asked snidely.

“I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue,” Granger snapped back, then regretted it. It would be much easier to get along with this man than to battle with him. “I'm here to get my ship back in order and get her to sea as soon as possible.”

“Getting her in order is my job, and I'll brook no interference from you,” he snarled.

“She is my ship, and I will be supervising and approving her refit along the way, every step, every timber, every seam,” Granger said. “If that is a problem, then we should speak to the head of the dockyard.”

“Ha! Good luck with that,” the man said.

“I didn't catch your name,” Granger said, glaring at the man. No dockyard supervisor was going to come between him and his ship.

“Bloom. My name is Bloom,” the man said. “As in there's no bloomin' way the Superintendent is going to waste his time on some trumped up lieutenant.” He cackled at his own joke.

“He will when Lord Chatham asks him to,” Granger said. “Shall I head back to the Admiralty and bring back orders to that effect, or shall we stop this posturing and try working together?”

Bloom eyed him carefully. “Let's go see this ship of yours and talk about how we can work together Mr. Granger.” Granger sighed inwardly. ‘Working together’ was going to cost him a lot of money.

Bloom led them into the dockyard, through the maze of stores and shipbuilding materials, past the slips where the new ships were being built. Granger noticed a new 74 was getting close to completion, while a ship near her, a bigger ship, was taking shape. Then they got to the drydock, and there, in an empty basin, was Intrepid.

“We planned to careen her because we've got a whole line of ships waiting for this drydock, but she had too much water in her and we had no choice. We'll have about thirty days in here before we'll have to move her out, either to a careening spot or afloat,” Bloom said.

“I think that should be possible with your help Mr. Bloom,” Granger said. “I'm sure I'll need several favors from you, and I'm confident that I can adequately repay you.”

“We'll see about that,” he said avariciously. “I'll give you a chance to look about while I track down the chief carpenter.”

Granger was glad to be rid of him. All he wanted to do was inspect his new command. He found that his feelings toward this ship were not all that unlike his feelings for his new son. The Intrepid was his now, he was responsible for her. She was a thing of beauty, to be sure, even as she lay there in the dock, propped up by lumber to keep her upright. She seemed small and puny in that waterless cavern designed to handle ships as large as a First Rate. And she almost seemed a little sad and lonely.

He admired her smooth, sleek lines, the lines that gave her such speed. The lines that seemed to flow and bulge in the right proportions that only a French ship designer seemed able to master. She had a flush deck, simple and elegant. Then his pleasant reverie stopped. There, on her port side, was a large gash in her hull. He descended into the dock and walked over to it, running his hands across the scarred timbers, as if trying to ease the pain this wound had caused her.

“It is amazing that she survived,” he heard Meurice say next to him. “Such a blow should have been fatal.”

“Yet it was not, a testament to your shipbuilders,” Granger said. They boarded the ship then, and explored her from top to bottom. She was much as Granger remembered her, only there were rats everywhere. They had truly gotten out of control.

“We've got to sulfur out the rats sir,” Jeffers said. Granger nodded as he kicked one of the beasts out of his way. How had they gotten this bad?

“That must be our first job,” Granger said. He heard a noise and looked up to see an older man, withered and gray.

“I'm Soames, chief carpenter,” he said brusquely.

“I'm George Granger, Captain of the Intrepid, and these are friends of mine,” Granger said politely. He introduced them all, but took special pains when he presented Meurice.

“We should put diagonal braces in a zigzag pattern along this line,” Meurice said as they wandered below.

“What for?” Soames asked, irritated.

Meurice answered him quite frankly, describing the forces on the frames, and how diagonal framing in such a pattern would give her additional strength without sacrificing too much flexibility. Granger let them ramble on and on, letting them enjoy their technical discussion, while he continued to explore his ship.

There were two disadvantages to the flush deck. The first was that there was no elevated platform to supervise the upper deck. As Granger stood on the quarterdeck, which was nothing more than a section of the upper deck, he decided that wasn't really much of an issue, especially not when the ship was tossing about in a good sea. The second disadvantage was more difficult to overcome. The quarterdeck usually served as a roof for the Captain's cabin. Without that, his cabin had to be on the deck below. In true French fashion, it was spacious and comfortable, but the officers were going to have to make do with very small quarters, and the men would be quite cramped. Giving up a little space in his quarters would have a major impact on the lives of the others. He'd have to contemplate that. The positive side of that issue, though, was that since his cabin was below the gun deck, all of his furnishings and possessions wouldn't have to be hurriedly ripped down and stowed below when they cleared for action.

Granger walked into his cabin and felt the grin return to his face. He had his own cabin, his own place, the most sacred part of the ship! Granger let his boyish excitement run wild, enjoying the thought of this new possession, this new bauble. The Captain's cabin. Then it hit him. For the first time, the full impact of command, of formal command, seemed to dawn on Granger. In the past, with a temporary assignment, he'd been able to keep up the camaraderie with the other officers. His days in the wardroom had reached their end. No more group meals at the table, with joking and relaxed company. No longer would he be part of a team of officers. Now he was in charge, autocrat of the ship. He would live in splendid isolation, enjoying his comparatively palatial quarters alone. Certainly he could and would entertain, but there would still be a gulf between him and the others. In the wardroom, he’d been an important cog in the machine. His job had been to interpret and implement the orders given by his Captain. Now he was the Captain, he was the leader, the ultimate authority. And now he would be all alone. Then he visualized her previous captain, Flowers, and how he had died dangling from a rope in these very same quarters, and that did a lot to further dampen his spirits. He shook himself, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind lest they destroy his mood.

He strolled along the gun deck, running his hands across the closest cannon. She had an unusual armament for a ship her size. Most sloops or corvettes had nine pounders, but Intrepid had 12 pounders. There were 20 of these guns, ten per side, a powerful broadside for such a small ship. Granger smiled. If they ran into a foreign ship of similar size, Intrepid would be more than a match for it.

They spent the day like that, roaming the ship, making plans and setting priorities. It was a weary but happy bunch that arrived back at Bridgemont House in time for supper. Granger headed straight up to see Caroline, Will, and Michel, to make sure they were safe and well, and to tell them about his other child, the Intrepid.