The Wardroom - 6. Chapter 6

Johnstone had planned this perfectly. The Romulus was approaching the Corsican coast just as dawn rose. Plenty of time to re-take control of the ship, Granger thought, or hoped.

“Sail ho! Sail off the larboard bow!” The lookout cried.

Every glass on the quarterdeck trained in her direction. “It's her alright,” Johnstone said. “Run up the colors.”

They were within range of the Sloop already, but she was turning away from them. Johnstone looked at him. Granger smiled to himself, standing here with a post captain waiting for directions from him. “I recommend that we heave to, sir.”

“If you say so Mr. Granger,” he said doubtfully. As soon as the Desperate saw the frigate heave to, she did the same.

“Well that worked,” Johnstone said.

“Yes sir. May I have a boat to take me to them sir?”

“You want to go over there? What if they hold you hostage?”

Granger looked at him calmly. “It's a risk I have to take sir. I have to talk to them.”

“Call away my gig,” he ordered. “Do you want any Marines with you?”

“No sir. That would just scare them. Later though,” Granger said with a smile. “If I am able to take control of the ship, I'd like to send Captain Wilcox and Lieutenant Graves back to Romulus sir.”

Johnstone looked at him severely. “And just what do you want me to do with them?”

“If you would be so kind sir, I'd like to keep them separated from each other, and I'd like someone to take their statements. It's important to keep them separate, begging your pardon sir. And apart from Cheadle as well.”

Johnstone smiled. “You think they'll trip each other up. Alright, I'm game enough. I'll detail a few people to interview them.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said.

“Good luck Mr. Granger,” he said.

Granger nodded and headed into Romulus' boat. They set the lugsail and headed to the sloop. He watched the Desperate as he drew closer and closer, and could see men lining her side curiously. He steeled himself for the next part of his plan.

“Boat ahoy!” came the expected cry from the sloop.

“Desperate,” Granger called. When a ship's captain was on board a ship and was hailed, the ship's name was his answer. That caused some significant movement among the group. Granger half expected a ball to fly into the boat, but he'd piqued their curiosity.

He climbed the chains alone, a brief climb for a small ship, and heaved himself onto the deck. There were no bosun's whistles for ceremony. Granger eyed the crew, their discontent and ill-will apparent.

“Well well well,” said a bosun's mate, Griffin. He was Cheadle's buddy. “Look who we have here.”

“You call me sir,” Granger said to him sharply. Before he could respond, Granger pulled out his orders. “Orders given by Admiral Lord Hood, Commander of His Majesty's vessels in the Mediterranean, to Lieutenant the Honorable George Granger. You are hereby requested and required to proceed immediately to HM sloop Desperate and take command...” Granger read, rambling out the time honored formula that gave him formal command of the Desperate. The men stared at him, stunned.

Granger put the orders into his pocket and spied the bosun. His name was Clarke, a good man in a bad ship. “Mr. Clarke, please release Mr. Roberts at once.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clarke said and headed below.

“Belay that. You think you can come over here and just take over? What of our demands? Where's Cheadle?” Griffin was determined not to lose control of the situation.

“Men,” Granger said, raising his voice. “Lord Hood is sensible of the treatment you have endured, and I have told him of it as I have seen it with my own eyes.” He saw some eyes gleam with hope now. “But mutiny is what you've done, and mutiny is a foul, vile thing. Lord Hood thinks that you are good men, loyal men, who were led astray by a few bad apples, men who must pay the price for such villainy. I have found my man,” he said, staring at Griffin. “Mr. Smythe,” Granger said, addressing the gunner, “please take Mr. Griffin into custody.” There was a feeling of concern. “I am empowered by Lord Hood to pardon the rest of you men, loyal hearts all. Any further disobedience, however, will lead to the direst of consequences.”

The chain of events seemed to proceed in slow motion, and it was extraordinary. Griffin lunged across the deck at him, his knife drawn. Before Granger could even draw his sword, two seamen tackled him to the deck and disarmed him. “You will hang for that, Mr. Griffin,” Granger observed coldly.

“Boats approaching sir!” came a call from the masthead. Granger turned his attention to the sea and saw three boats approaching from the Romulus. There were probably fifty marines in them.

“Not to worry lads. They're coming to take some of our ‘passengers’ away,” Granger said to the men, who were worried that there might be a trick in play. “Take Mr. Griffin to the boat,” he said to Smythe, pointing at the gig that had brought him. The seamen led Griffin, kicking and screaming into the boat. Johnstone would know what to do with him.

He turned to see Roberts, looking disheveled, but still fantastic. “Good morning Mr. Roberts. I have taken command of this ship in accordance with my orders from Lord Hood. You will assume the duties of First Lieutenant immediately.”

Roberts looked at him, emotions flying across his face. “Aye aye sir.”

“There are two boats approaching. You will put Mr. Wilcox in one, and Mr. Graves in the other. They are to be kept separate at all times.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said smartly.

The other warrant officers appeared on deck. The two midshipmen, both young lads of about 13 years old, looked distraught and disheveled. They were just boys, yet they had been through hell. They approached Granger nervously.

“You lads have been through a bit eh?” Granger asked them playfully.

“Yes sir,” Grafton, the senior, said shyly.

“Well, things are back in order now. Attend to your duties.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said, still stunned.

“Mr. Locke!” Granger called to the purser. He'd evidently been ill-treated as well. No surprise there. Pursers were universally unpopular.

“Sir?” he asked.

“We're going to have a sewing party this afternoon. Break out your supplies of duck. We're going to have a make and mend day.”

“All of it sir?” he asked.

“All of it Mr. Locke.”

“Mr. Clarke, rig the wash deck pump on the upper deck. Mr. Flannagan, you'll need your shears this afternoon.” Flannagan was the surgeon.

The boats were alongside, and marines came tromping aboard. The men glowered at them. “Captain Johnstone sent us over sir,” said the marine lieutenant.

“I need you to report to Lieutenant Roberts. He'll give you instructions for removing the former captain and first lieutenant. After that, you may return to Romulus.”

“Aye aye sir. Captain Johnstone ordered me to leave a contingent on board.”

“Very well. You may leave ten men and a corporal.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and strode off to find Roberts. Five minutes later a very unhinged Wilcox was dragged up from below, still in irons. The men jeered at him, and Granger decided that if it weren't for the marines, they may very well have ripped him apart. He stared at Granger, glared, grinned, and then glared again. Granger nodded and they hustled him into the boat.

That boat shoved off, along with most of her marines, while the second approached. This time it was Lieutenant Graves that was brought up, looking and acting much as Wilcox had. Granger nodded and they shuffled him into the boat as well.

“Please advise Captain Johnstone that we will rejoin the fleet,” Granger called to the lieutenant in the boat.

“Aye aye sir,” the lieutenant responded.

Roberts approached him. “They're gone sir,” he said, smiling.

“Excellent. We'll need another lieutenant. Who do you think deserves a temporary promotion?” Granger asked jovially.

“Yule, master's mate, sir.”

“Very well. Send him aft,” Granger ordered, staring at the ship, his first command. “Get the ship underway if you please, Mr. Roberts. Set a course to rejoin the fleet. After you've done that, we'll meet with the officers in my cabin.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said.

Yule came stomping aft. Granger had forgotten all about him, a jovial guy on an unhappy ship. He must have been miserable. In his early 30's, probably, but a life at sea had made him seem older. “You wanted to see me sir?” he asked.

“Yes Mr. Yule. Effective from this moment, you will assume the duties of Second Lieutenant of this vessel.”

The pleasure of promoting someone was new to Granger. Yule grinned broadly. “Thank you sir,” he said. “I thought I'd spend the rest of my days in the gunroom.”

Granger smiled back. “Well Mr. Yule, this is an acting appointment, so we'll have to work to make it permanent.” He headed to Wilcox's cabin, his cabin now, expecting to find chaos. Instead, he found it neat and orderly, with Winkler hurriedly organizing things.

“Thought I'd best pick up sir, if we're to have company. I saved all the papers of course sir,” he said hastily. “They're here in the top desk drawer.”

“Thank you Winkler. That was very thoughtful of you. Would you pass the word for the ship's officers please? Ask Mr. Smythe to take the watch.” He'd update the gunner later.

They filed in, the two lieutenants, a master's mate, the midshipmen, the purser, and the other warrant officers. “Gentlemen, welcome.” They nodded.

“I am in command of this vessel until Lord Hood sees fit to relieve me.” They nodded. “The discipline in this ship is a disgrace. Punishment is meted out when no offense has been committed, and our people are treated like animals. That ends now. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” they all murmured.

“Today, I want a good supper. You may break into the Captain's stores.” It was easy enough to give away Wilcox's property, and the least he could do after the way he treated these men. “And we're going to start by making our crew look like a crew. When we go back on deck, every man will be stripped, showered off, and given enough canvas to make himself two pairs of pants and two tunics.” The purser gasped, the others smiled. “Mr. Flannagan, you will shear off their hair. We will de-louse this ship at the same time.”

“Aye aye sir!”

“I want the hammocks boiled, and those men shorn clean of hair.” Granger knew that the men were infested with lice, and he knew that Wilcox had thought it was humorous.

“Aye aye sir,” they chimed. Granger dismissed them and went up on deck. The men lined up, nervous and afraid.

“Alright lads, we're going to rid you of the guests that inhabit your body. You'll strip and toss your clothes overboard, be given a shower by the wash deck pump, then you'll have your hair shorn, all of it. You'll be given a razor, and I suggest you pick a mate you trust.” That got a laugh. “Then you'll be given another shower, along with canvas to make new trousers and tunics.” They swallowed hard at that, and he knew why. The cost of the material would ordinarily be deducted from their pay. “The cost of the canvas will be charged to my own account. Mr. Locke, if I discover you've charged any of these men, you'll join them in the shearing line.” Granger pulled out his purse and dropped some guineas into Locke's hand to pay for the canvas. The men, so downtrodden, began to cheer. Such simple things for such deserving souls, Granger thought.

Granger nodded and the work began. He'd felt a little apprehension about denigrating one of his officers, the purser, in front of the men, but no real harm was done. The purser was usually hated anyway, and Locke was lucky if that's all that happened to him. Granger suspected that if he audited his books, it may cause Locke significant discomfort.

He strolled down to the deck and watched the men go through the cleaning process. Two men were off to the side, shaving each other as ordered. The younger one, probably all of 19 years old, was sporting an erection, and a big erection at that. There were a few other lads there teasing him mercilessly. They shut up in terror as he approached.

“What's your name?” Granger demanded.

“Elk sir,” he said.

“Well Elk, I suspect that the ladies were even more upset about your impressment than you were,” Granger teased.

Elk grinned shyly at him. “Yes sir. I fear so.” Everyone laughed. Granger couldn't help but watch him as his mate shaved him carefully. He noticed that the other man made a point of brushing against his monster cock to keep it hard. “Stop it Harry,” he whispered urgently. “You'll make me blast.” Fortunately the other men had all wandered off. Then Harry brushed the head of Elk’s cock once more and he began to spew his load. Granger stared, transfixed, as the huge organ shot out an equally huge load. Elk looked up at him, horrified. Granger just smiled and tossed him his handkerchief.

By the end of the day, he knew all about his crew, the size of their muscles, and the size of their dicks. That made Granger chuckle to himself. He took advantage of the pump being out and took a shower himself, enjoying the feeling of being clean. The men on deck grinned at him, and he felt the camaraderie that came from sharing their burden, even if he didn't shave himself too. He got back to his cabin to find Roberts waiting for him.

“I hope you don't mind the intrusion sir,” he said, smiling.

“Not at all. At ease Mr. Roberts,” Granger said.

“Yes sir,” Roberts said, smiling. He walked up to Granger and dropped to his knees and pulled down Granger’s trousers. “I have a favor to repay, with your permission sir.” Then he leaned forward and took Granger's cock into his mouth, working him with a skill that told Granger this wasn't his first time. Granger ran his hands through Roberts’ thin brown hair, lovingly encouraging his work.

“You're going to make me cum,” Granger said urgently. Roberts pulled off his dick and smiled up, then reabsorbed his cock in his mouth, and took his load down this throat. Granger pulled him up to his feet and kissed him, tasting traces of his own essence, something not pleasant. Still, the feel of Roberts’ mouth on his, the feel of his massive arms around him, was worth a small irritant. He led a surprised Roberts into his sleeping cabin and shut the door.

“Sir?” Roberts asked, surprised. Granger leered and pulled him into a kiss. He felt Roberts’ lust surge, and reached down to stroke his hard cock.

“So Mr. Roberts, it's my turn to satisfy you.” Roberts grinned and made to push him to his knees, but Granger shook his head and turned around, dropping his trousers. He grabbed a glop of lubricant and applied it to his ass.

“You want me to bugger you?” Roberts asked nervously. Granger leaned back into him, letting his cock rub against his hole.

“Only if you want to,” Granger said as he pushed back, feeling Roberts’ cock push against his ring, then penetrate him.

“Mmm,” Roberts moaned.

“You can stop if you want to,” Granger said.

“Not a chance,” Roberts said as he began to slowly fuck Granger. “God, this is wonderful. This is heaven. Absolute heaven.” And then Roberts let himself go. He wrapped his massive arms around Granger, holding him tight, dominating him as he drove into him. Granger had just shot a load, but he felt another one forming. Roberts grunted and groaned like an animal, his sounds, his strength, his urgent need for release sent Granger over the edge again, shooting his second load before Roberts blew his first. He didn't have long to wait. His spasms sent Roberts there too, and Granger relaxed and enjoyed the feel of his dick as it expanded inside him and filled him with Roberts’ seed.

Roberts looked at him, worried, happy, sheepish, and confused. “I never did that before.”

“You were very good at it,” Granger said, smiling. “Think you may want to do it again?”

“Yes sir,” Roberts said, grinning back. “And now if you'll excuse me sir, I have the next watch.”

“Certainly Mr. Roberts,” Granger said, slipping back into his role as Captain.

“Captain, the fleet is in sight,” the midshipman said. Granger hadn't even had time to learn their names in the last two days.

“Thank you,” he said, and headed up to the quarterdeck. “Signal Desperate to Flag, am rejoining the fleet.” The signal midshipman nodded.

“Flag's acknowledged,” he chimed back.

“Mr. Roberts, prepare to go about. Mr. Yule, prepare to have the hands man the side.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said. Granger didn't have the feel of Desperate the way he'd had the feel of Barracuda, so he was a little nervous about executing a perfect maneuver, but he needed to do it, had to do it himself. He waited until the Desperate was next to Victory.

“Port your helm,” he ordered. The Desperate began to spin around, into the wind. “Further,” he urged, further, just a little more and they could trim the braces and plow along close hauled next to Victory. There was an agonizing moment when he feared she'd be all aback, but the handy little ship responded to the wind beautifully. His tension was misplaced. It was a perfect maneuver.

“Man the side!” he ordered, and the men flew up the shrouds, looking like fallen leaves that had magically returned to their tree. They hung there, looking clean and professional. He saw Hood on the deck of Victory studying the sloop carefully.

A boat pushed off from the Victory and headed toward the Desperate. Granger was at the entry port to greet Lieutenant Danvers, the flagship's second lieutenant. He nodded to Granger, pulled out his papers, and read himself in as Desperate's new Captain. “I relieve you,” he said to Granger curtly.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. “If you'll permit me sir, I'll show you to your cabin.”

“Thank you Mr. Granger,” Danvers said cheerfully. Granger filled Danvers in on the events since he'd taken over. Danvers eyed him appreciatively.

“You've done well Mr. Granger. Thank you very much. When your turn comes, you'll make a fine Captain,” Danvers said. It was a really nice thing to say.

“Thank you sir. I hope you find Mr. Roberts and Mr. Yule acceptable. I've been pleased with their performance.”

“I believe Lord Hood has plans to replace them, and to conduct inquiries among the crew.” Danvers seemed apprehensive about that.

“With your permission sir, I'll try to dissuade his lordship of that. I pardoned the crew, and confirmed the officers in their positions. To revoke that would force me to violate my oath to them.” Granger felt the world falling away from him.

“Nothing would please me more Mr. Granger. It is time to move on and make this sloop the best in the fleet.”

“Thank you sir. Then I'll take my leave, with your permission.” He nodded to Granger, who headed back to the flagship feeling depressed. He'd enjoyed command, and it had been pulled from him. Not that he hadn't expected it. He was much too junior to retain command of a large sloop like Desperate. But that didn't take away the sting. And worse, he'd pardoned the men on board. If Hood went back on that, it would violate Granger's honor, and he would not be fit to wear the King's uniform.

He mounted the side of the Victory and found Curtis waiting. “Welcome back Mr. Granger. The sloop looks to be in ship shape.”

“Yes sir. She's a good craft with a good crew, except a few bad apples.”

“His lordship is waiting for you,” Curtis said, guiding him aft.

Hood studied him as he came in, and simply said “report.” Granger relayed the details, relayed how he'd pardoned the crew and sent Griffin, Wilcox and Graves over to the Romulus, how he'd gotten the ship in order and how he'd promoted Yule.

“You overstepped your bounds with your pardon Mr. Granger,” Hood said severely.

“Begging your pardon my lord, but your instructions were to bring the sloop back with a few ringleaders to hang, while pardoning the others. Griffin and Cheadle are the antagonists sir, while Mr. Graves and Captain Wilcox encouraged them with their actions.” He handed the admiral the papers he'd found aboard that incriminated all four of them.

“So you are telling me that I am wrong Mr. Granger?” Hood asked, clearly irritated.

“It was my belief that I was following your instructions my lord. I pardoned those men, gave them my word. If they are punished, I will be dishonored.”

“Are you challenging me to a duel Mr. Granger?” Hood asked, almost grinning.

“No my lord. But a man without honor isn't fit to wear the King's uniform.” Curtis shot him warning looks, telling him that he was pushing to the limit here. But Granger was being honest and sincere, and there was no going back on this.

Hood glared at him, clearly furious, and Granger braced himself for a tirade, for probable dismissal. “Well Mr. Granger, you do look so fine in that uniform that it would be a shame to have you surrender it. Very well, I will confirm your pardon of those men.”

“Thank you my lord,” Granger said, then remembered Roberts and Yule. “And the officers my lord?”

Hood sighed, clearly irritated. “Yes, the officers too Mr. Granger. I will leave it to Danvers to keep or discard them as he sees fit.”

“Thank you my lord,” Granger said, and went down to the wardroom to compose his report.

The single gun rang out and the flag rose to the mainmast, the time-honored symbols of a court martial. Granger stood on the deck, watching the assembled personages head below. There were seven captains seated as judges, and each of the accused had been assigned a defense advocate. As a witness, Granger was required to avoid the hearing, which was just fine with him.

He paced the deck alone, not wanting to cloud his testimony by chatting with others, until Shafte peeked up. “They're ready for you Mr. Granger.” Granger entered the vast stern cabin and saw the Captains arrayed across one side of the large dining table. The sunlight beamed through the stern windows, creating a surreal effect as it made the Captains’ gold lace glitter.

“Mr. Granger,” said the President of the Court, a Captain that Granger had not yet met. “Please describe your voyage aboard the Desperate to Gibraltar.”

Granger swallowed hard and recounted the voyage in detail, from leaving Gravesend to arriving in the Bay of Biscay. “You say that Captain Wilcox cruised in the Bay of Biscay for a number of days when the wind was fair for Gibraltar?”

“Yes sir. For five days, according to my logs.”

“Did you bring it to his attention that your orders were to arrive at Gibraltar as quickly as possible?”

“Yes sir,” Granger said, and recounted their conversation. Then he continued on to discuss the altercation with Cheadle in Gibraltar, as well as his interview with him on the Romulus. The hearing seemed to last forever, as Granger described his encounter with Griffin and the attempt to stab him, the condition of Desperate when he took command, and finally his pardon of the existing crew.

“This court is wondering what possessed you, Mr. Granger, to pardon individuals in advance of this hearing,” asked one of the Captains, an ally of the Wilcox family. “The one thing that is apparent in this matter is that you severely overstepped your authority.”

“I was acting under orders from Lord Hood sir. The objective was to nip the mutiny in the bud as quickly as possible to prevent its spread amongst the fleet, and to return the Desperate to the fleet as a fighting unit. I identified the ringleaders and pardoned the rest.”

“You pardoned them? You?” he asked, making it sound as if Granger had ballooned in on one of Montgolfier's monstrosities simply to confound the court.

“I did sir,” Granger said firmly.

“Captain, Lord Hood has already given us his own statement verifying what Mr. Granger has just told us, and stating that he did it with his full support and authority. Any further questions along this line are irrelevant,” said the President of the court. The other Captain glowered and shut up. “That is all Mr. Granger,” the President said. Granger bowed slightly and left the cabin, heading back up on deck. He found Danvers there and paced with him.

“Well Mr. Granger, how did it go?”

“Alright I suppose sir. It was my first court martial,” Granger teased, getting a smile. “How are your officers?”

“They are performing quite well,” he said. “You made good selections.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said, and flashed him a smile.

“So how did you like command?” he asked.

“I liked it a lot,” Granger replied. “It was difficult to give it up sir. I felt so responsible and obligated to the men. I appreciate the way you took over sir. It made things easier.”

“I told you before, Mr. Granger, that I thought you'd do quite well when your turn comes, and it will. You'd done more to repair morale and hygiene on the ship in three days than most of these other captains could ever dream of.”

Granger beamed at Danvers, trying to control his ego strokes, and trying to figure out if Danvers was flirting with him. “Thank you again sir,” Granger said, remembering to look at him shyly for effect.

His flirtatious interlude with Danvers ended abruptly as the court poured up from the cabin and the flag came fluttering down. Shafte came walking up to them and joined them in their walk.

“What's the verdict Mr. Shafte?” Danvers asked.

“All of them found guilty, sir. Griffin and Cheadle to be hanged from the yardarm of the Desperate sir, Graves and Wilcox to be dismissed from the service.”

“Then I'd best get back and rig the yardarm for the hanging,” Danvers said. He was probably prepared for this. Deserters and mutineers were usually punished in the ship in which they'd perpetrated their crimes.

“It was good to see you again sir,” Granger said. Danvers extended his hand and Granger shook it, feeling his strength and authority, and then Danvers was over the side and into his boat.

“Mr. Granger?” he heard a familiar voice.

“My lord?” he said, answering his admiral.

“You did well today. You did well with the whole thing.”

“Thank you my lord,” Granger said, feeling his ego soaring again and forcing it down from the rafters.

“If you weren't such a junior lieutenant, I'd have left you in the Desperate. When the time is right, I'll do what I can to give you a ship of your own,” the admiral said.

Granger just gaped at him, and then remembered his manners. “Thank you my lord. Thank you.” Hood nodded and retired, leaving Granger to contemplate his words. His own ship. Every naval officer's dream.

The next day the gun boomed again, and a boat from each ship in the squadron rowed over to Desperate to witness the punishment. Granger looked through his glass to see two shapes rise to the Desperate's yardarm, wiggling and struggling for a few minutes, and then they were still. Cheadle and Griffin were no more.