Hello, Dear Readers, we are still on the Miss Lou with Michael and Conway. Things are beginning to heat up. Please E- mail me at Swarri1349@aol.com or visit my web page at http:/members.xoom.com/Swarri1349
A grateful thank you to Ed for his help with this chapter Stephen
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- Chapter 6 * *
The steamer Miss Lou continued south, her boilers red hot from the dry cottonwood used to fire the fireboxes. Jonathan Mattews sat in the heat, watching the pressure gauges. He had the hottest job on the boat but one of the most important. The black firemen threw stick after stick of wood into the fires. Jonathan looked once again at his gauges - 125 pounds of steam was a little high for the speed they were making but he did not want to have too little either. He knew that if it did drop too low he would have his ass kicked from bow to stern. He stood and walked out to the edge of the boiler deck and pulled his worn corncob pipe from his pocket and filled it with tobacco, then struck a match and lit it. He drew the strong smoke into his lungs, savoring the flavor and the burn. He looked down and over to the large suction pipes that pulled the water from the river to the boilers. Jonathan thought, 'I hope to God they do not stop up before we reach Belle Bend.' Then he slowly walked back to his nail keg he used for a stool and sat down to watch his gauges.
Tom King stood in the pilothouse perched high on top of the Texas deck and slightly behind the two towering smokestacks. He was looking at the brown river ahead. Then down at his gold pocket watch - 1:30 PM, Belle Bend by 7 PM. He closed the watch cover and it made a slight snap. Then he faced the two river pilots, one sitting in a high chair, the other at the wheel. "Pilot Williams, how does Miss Lou handle today?"
"Just fine, Captain King, we are making good time, especially with the river so low." He turned the big wheel as he spoke, never letting his sharp eyes leave the river in front of him.
Most people called the pilothouse perched high on top the 'palace of glass'. The pilots and captain had an almost complete view of the river ahead; only the tall smokestacks blocked their view of certain small points of the river. The pilots were the bosses of the steamer, no matter what the passengers thought. The captain was in control of the time tables, the stopping points, and pick up points, but the pilots controlled the steamer when she was moving along the river.
"Yes, we are, Mr. Williams, our engineer Mr. Mattews is keeping the boilers hot and is a very able man. I figure we will make Belle Bend at 7 PM, lay over for a hour to clean the suction pipes, and re-wood while unloading cargo."
"Yes, Captain, I also want a river sounding, so I will know how much water I have under my keel in case Johnson bar has grown some in the last week."
"Very good, Mr. Williams, that damned sandbar never stops being a pain in the ass."
Both pilots chuckled at that last remark made by the captain but they also knew of the danger it posed for their wood hulled steamer. One good snag would rip the bottom out, and the ship and supplies would be lost. The three men continued to watch the river, looking for anything that might have changed. The pilots had to know each mile of the river like they knew their own hand. One mistake would spell disaster for both the steamer and everyone on board. The pilots knew what percentage they had of living if one happened: slim to none. A small lanky boy walked up the steps outside the pilothouse and knocked. "You may enter, Henry."
"Thank you, Captain," Henry nodded to the two pilots and sat the hot pot of black coffee on the cold wood stove. Then he turned and left. They all heard the soft click of the door being shut and the creak of the steps leading back down to the Texas deck roof.
Captain King took one of the china coffee mugs and poured a cup of the steaming coffee and handed one to pilot Billings, the off duty pilot, and poured another and passed it to pilot Williams at the wheel, then finally poured himself a cup and took a seat in the other high chair to watch the lazy river.
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Conway slowly opened his eyes and looked at Michael who was still sound asleep. He yawned and eased himself up off of Michael's chest and stood, then walked over to the mirror. Conway looked at himself in the big mirror and saw the red streaks below his eyes where he had cried in Michael's arms. Conway washed his face, then walked to the big arched window that took over half the wall and pulled back the heavy curtains and looked at the river. The sun was beginning to set, so he knew that the nap had lasted at least three hours. Conway did not know what to think about what had happened earlier when he poured out his past life to a total stranger, but he already knew a bond had been formed between him and Michael. A friendship was beginning to bud and soon it would bloom. Conway was lost in thought of his past. He saw in his mind his pa working the fields and him tagging along, breaking the hard clods with his bare feet. His sweet ma was singing old tunes as she washed the clothes or milked the cow. The chickens running across the bare yard. Conway felt fresh tears forming in his eyes as he looked at the green fields and the sagging trees along the banks, the golden sun as it began to set. Then he turned away from the window and re-closed the heavy curtains. He smiled as he looked down on Michael, sleeping comfortably, a smile on his handsome boyish face. They were the same age but Michael looked like an angel sleeping, his smooth pale skin showed no marks of hard living. He knew Michael was well off by the books and the fancy clothes. The only real book Conway had ever seen was the family Bible, but he knew how to read from the newspapers discarded by the plantation owners and others; his ma taught him how to read and write. 'God Bless You, Ma.' Then he added, 'God Bless You, Michael Hunter, for showing me friendship once more.' Conway was falling in love. Conway walked over to the dresser and took a small sip of the tepid water from the water pitcher and then walked over to the bunk. Conway sat on the edge, then laid down beside his angel, his first true friend. Michael rolled over in his sleep and his head rested on Conway's chest and Conway wrapped his arms around the sleeping boy and kissed his forehead. 'Oh, how I love thee for being a true friend. Someone who looked over my ragged clothes, a tainted soul caused by hate in this world for my kind. You are the first person to ever tell me I was an equal to anyone else.' Conway kissed Michael's forehead and Michael began to stir awake.
Michael smiled as he yawned, then slowly opened his eyes. He was surprised at where his head had been resting. He looked up at Conway and saw the fresh tear stains. "Conway, you have been crying again. Why?"
"Oh, my sweet Michael, I was remembering the past and whispering all my thanks to you, my angel." Conway blushed, his tan cheeks turning a bright red. "Please don't be upset with me, my friend."
"Conway, how can I be upset with you? You're so sweet yourself. How can one hate you for being yourself?" Michael reached out his hand and brushed the tears from Conway's face. Then he ran his hand across Conway's red cheeks, feeling the heat and smoothness of the warm skin. Michael looked into the sparkling blue eyes of Conway and smiled as he rubbed his hand down Conway's smooth chest where his head was lying earlier. "I cannot hate such beauty as what lies before me, and as I slept I felt your heart beating so strongly and I know your soul is as strong as your heart for you're a noble person. Conway James, you might have whispered angel's praises to me while I slept but I heard them, and words cannot express my feelings in my heart and soul, for no one before has told me such sweet things as you." Michael looked up again at Conway, his face not 6 inches from Conway's, and he felt Conway's warm breath on his face. Conway leaned closer and kissed Michael softly on his pink lips, tasting the sweetness of his angel, then pulled back. Michael's eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement. Conway was blushing again. "Sorry, Michael, I hope I did not insult you by me kissing you."
Michael was still reeling from the small kiss, soaking it in when Conway spoke. Michael did not answer with words, he moved closer to Conway and planted his lips to Conway's and wrapped his hands behind Conway's neck.
Michael was in pure bliss. His tongue darted between Conway's lightly parted lips and began to explore the sweetness of the oral cavity. Conway's tongue was exploring Michael's sweet lips, and soon their tongues were dancing with each other as in a waltz. Conway grabbed Michael's tongue with his lips and began to suck on it, sending shivers of pleasure through Michael's body. The kiss seemed to last for the longest time. Then the two boys broke apart, Conway grabbed Michael and rolled him over on his back, and kissed Michael tenderly on the lips once more for a brief time. Michael's eyes were closed as his body felt the heat, the passion, and the love of another boy for the first time in his young life. Conway kissed Michael's nose, then teased his ear lobes, flicking his tongue along the outer rims. Meanwhile, his hands were rubbing Michael's chest, brushing Michael's nipples and running the tips of his fingers around the buds; both were hard as iron pins. Conway's tongue began to kiss Michael's fevered cheeks, then Conway kissed Michael's Adam's apple and licked his way down to the beautiful smooth chest. Michael was beginning to pant hard, his breath growing shorter. He gasped when Conway's tongue began to lick on his left nipple, first the flicking of the tongue over the bud, then the hot tongue circling it.
Then Conway found Michael's weakness. He began to nibble on the bud, teasing and gently biting it, causing pleasure to shoot through Michael's brain. Conway began to suck the bud into his hot velvet mouth, sucking on it like he was milking his mother's tit but with more pleasure for both. Conway sucked as if he was trying to draw milk from the bud and Michael thought he was flying, only held down by Conway on top of him. Then Conway pulled off and licked his way over to Michael's right nipple and began to repeat the ritual. Michael's youthful cock had grown to its full 8 inches, aching to be released from its linen prison. Michael reached up and grabbed hold of Conway's back, sinking his fingers into the tanned flesh. Conway grunted and continued to suck on Michael's right nipple and bud, nibbling it as Michael squirmed with pleasure. Conway stopped and kissed up to Michael's red face and kissed him deeply on the lips. Conway then slid down Michael's smooth body, rubbing his hands over Michael's tortured chest, then he started kissing Michael's stomach, running his tongue over the taut skin, tasting the sweat. Even that was sweet coming from this angel. Then, running his tongue in circles, he rimmed Michael's bellybutton. Michael arched up off the bunk when the tongue dived deep; Conway seemed to twist his tongue to cause the maximum pleasure. Conway continued to work lower, kissing and licking the smooth skin, then the tongue began to follow the happy trail of fine black hair to the top of Michael's underwear.
Conway smiled and looked up into the smiling face of Michael and the piercing green eyes that were sparkling. Conway rubbed his hand over the bulge in the cloth and Michael let out a deep powerful moan of pleasure. Conway rubbed it again and Michael's body shivered. Conway untied the lacing holding Michael's long underwear on and slowly began to pull them down. Michael lifted his hips and the linen underwear slid down and Conway pulled them off. Conway caught the full beauty of his naked angel. Michael lay there with his arms behind his head and his manhood standing straight up like the mast of a ship, his pink nipples standing out from the paleness of his chest, the light brown hair running down his legs to his feet. Conway was soaking the beauty in, then he started to rub Michael's feet and slowly running his fingers up the legs, feeling the fine silky hair. Michael loved it. Never before in his young life had he felt such strong emotions running through his veins. Conway slowly eased up Michael's legs. Soon Conway was on top of Michael's chest. Conway brushed his lips to Michael's, kissing him again more powerfully, full of lust and love. Their tongues danced again for a moment, then Conway started kissing his way back down Michael's chest and stomach. Soon Conway's chin was resting against Michael's hard cock. Conway picked his chin up and gripped Michael's cock in his hand and started to lightly pump it up and down, feeling the heat in his hand. Taking his thumb and index finger, he rubbed the pink head and around the crown, teasing the slit with his powerful fingers. Conway gripped the base of Michael's hard cock and eased down. Taking his tongue, he flicked it lightly over the crown and over the slit. Michael's body went rigid as fireworks began to shoot through his mind. As Conway licked Michael's cock, he gripped Michael's balls with his free hand, and began to tug on them lightly. Michael could not stay still; he reached up and grabbed the back of Conway's head and tangled his fingers in the thick black hair. Conway engulfed Michael's hard rod and began to swirl his tongue around the crown, licking the tender underside and running his tongue along the slit.
Michael was breathing hard and finally whispered, "Turn around, Conway." Conway lifted his head and gripped his own underwear and pulled them off his legs. Michael's eyes bulged from their sockets when he saw Conway's hard cock swinging between his legs.
Conway smiled, "Angel, meet Gator."
Michael let out a gasp. "It is huge."
Conway laughed. "No, Michael, it is small compared to some members of the family. It is only 12 inches hard. I see by the fire in your eyes you want to play with my gator."
Michael smiled as Conway swung his powerful tanned legs around and planted his knees on either side of Michael's head. Now Conway's hard cock was only inches from Michael's waiting mouth. Conway bent his knees a little lower until the head was slapping Michael's chin. Michael reached up and grabbed Conway's cock and began to lick the tip, tasting the flavor and feeling the smooth skin with his tongue, while Conway was busy slurping Michael's 8 inches, and soon Conway deep-throated Michael's cock. Michael let out a deep moan and placed his lips around Conway's rod and began to suck the head, moving his tongue around the crown and sticking the tip of his tongue in the slit. Conway started to suck harder on Michael's cock, as the pleasure from his lower body grew stronger. Michael was trying his best to get as much of Conway's large cock into his waiting mouth, but he could only get 6 inches before he started to gag. Conway was sucking Michael's cock, swirling his tongue up and down the shaft while his lips provided maximum suction. Michael did not know how much longer he could last; he felt his balls begin to tighten as his boy honey began to boil. Michael pulled off Conway's hard rod. "Conway, I am about to shoot my load!" Conway pulled back until just the head of Michael's cock was in his mouth. Conway gripped the slick base of Michael's cock and slowly began to pump it while his tongue continued to tease the crown and slit. Michael moaned deep, "I can't hold it any longer!" Michael barely had time to get the words out of his mouth before his body went taut and his cock exploded in Conway's waiting mouth. Conway swallowed the cum, gulping it down as fast as he could but some still dripped down his chin in small streams of boy nectar. Michael was breathing hard. Never in his life had he had such a powerful orgasm. Conway swung around and kissed Michael on the lips, letting the flavors mix. Michael tasted his own juices mixed with the wonderful flavors of Conway. Conway was still rock hard and Michael noticed it. "Conway, please let me take care of it."
Conway rolled on his back and Michael gripped his hard cock and began to slowly pump it up and down. Conway lay there with his eyes closed, feeling the pleasure Michael was causing in his lower body. His beautiful angel was jacking him off. Michael began to speed up his motions with his hand and used his other one to grip Conway's heavy balls and pulled on them, causing more pleasure as Michael was jerking Conway's cock. He leaned up and began to lick Conway's nipples, doubling the pleasure. Michael's tongue was licking the nipples like a piece of hard candy, then he began to nibble on the buds, causing shivers of pleasure to race through Conway. Conway reached up and grabbed the back of Michael's head, holding on to the dark hair as the pleasure built up within him. Michael was loving every second of licking and sucking on those perfect nipples, circling his tongue around the buds. Conway's breathing became ragged as the fluids boiled. "Oh, my God!" Conway moaned, and heavy spurts of cum shot from the tip of his hard cock, landing all over Michael's hands and onto Conway's smooth belly. Both boys were exhausted after their fun and Michael crawled up and lay beside Conway and they kissed tenderly, full of love for each other. Now neither of them was alone in the their great adventure. They hugged each other close and talked about their lives and what lay ahead.
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Pilot Billings was at the wheel in the pilothouse, scanning the river. Williams was sitting in one of the high chairs, dozing, his head bobbing up and down. Captain King was in his quarters, writing out paperwork. The river was peaceful, only six miles to Belle Bend. He was able to increase speed once they passed a bad section of the river and they were an hour ahead of schedule. Captain King was pleased with his crew; every man knew his job. The man on watch out on the Texas deck rang the big brass bell six times to signal the hour of six. Captain King heard it and checked his pocket watch and smiled - right on the dot.
"Williams, wake your ass up!" shouted Billings.
Williams sat up in his high chair, "What in the hell do you want!"
"Come look at this, will ya," said Billings, puffing on his pipe.
Williams walked over to stand beside Billings and they saw gray figures on horseback, frantically flagging the steamer. Behind them was a cannon. "I think it is time to summon the Captain, Williams."
"I believe so too."
Williams walked out of the pilothouse and down to the captain's quarters. He knocked on the door and waited for a reply. "Come in," said Captain King. Williams walked inside. "What can I do for you, Williams?" asked captain King.
"Captain, there are Confederate soldiers on horseback on shore, signaling us to stop. Pilot Billings was ordering all stop on the engines until we got orders from you, sir."
Captain King threw on his coat and hat and followed Williams to the pilothouse. They climbed the stairs. He shouted to the man on watch to ring the big brass bell to signal the deck hands to loosen the gangplank and to prepare to swing it out.
"Pilot Billings, hard to port."
"Yes, Captain King," and he swung the big wheel hard to port.
Captain King then pulled the cork stopper from the brass speaking tube that ran to the boiler deck and shouted in the mouthpiece, "All ahead slow, Mr. Mattews."
Engineer Mattew's voice came back through the tube, "Aye, aye, Captain, all ahead slow."
Miss Lou eased toward the bank and the waiting soldiers. The big brass bell continued to ring, signaling the men on shore and the others that the steamer was going to dock. The paddle wheel slowly turned, biting into the water as the steamer eased forward. The black firemen closed the dampers on the firebox doors to keep the fires from getting too hot at this slow speed and the extra steam was vented through exhaust pipes leading to the roof on top of the hurricane deck.
Pilot Billings eased the steamer to the bank and the gangplank swung out onto shore. Captain King was now standing on the boiler deck, waiting for the man in charge on shore to come aboard. A tall man with a black beard and a weathered face mounted the gangplank and walked on deck and saluted Captain King.
"Captain Isaac Hayes 3rd, Louisiana cavalry at your service, sir."
"How may I assist you, Captain Hayes?"
"Captain King, we have spotted a Union ironclad south of Belle Bend, steaming north up the Red River. Her orders, sir, is to sink everything afloat on this river and we, sir, intend on getting your boat past that damned ironclad. The Yankee navy is spread thin this far south. The southern fleet is trying to pass Port Hudson and the northern fleet of ironclads are north of Vicksburg and our men need these supplies. Here is our plan. Sergeant Wells will stay here and take the horses south while my men board your steamer and that field piece must be brought on board and mounted on the boiler deck, protected with some of the cotton bales we can get at Belle Bend. Also, all arms and powder need to be moved to the Texas deck or stored elsewhere in case that ironclad wants to fight or we cannot out run her fast enough."
"Very well, Captain Hayes, my crew of deckhands are at your service. Men of the Miss Lou, you have just heard what the Captain has said. I want your help in getting their supplies and that field gun on board. Mr. Foster."
"Yes, Captain King. Have the steam hoist disconnected from the gangway and rig the ropes to pick up the gun and ammo chest and swing them on board. You know your men better than any of us."
The mud clerk grinned, "YES, SIR!"
"All right, you lazy bums, time to get your black asses to work, and you lazy Irish boys quit that smiling, get your asses over here too. The men began to unhook the heavy ropes that lift the gangplank and others began to tote on supplies from shore crates and boxes of muskets, tents, personal baggage and other supplies of the 30 or so men who were readying the cannon to be lifted on deck and the limber holding the rest of the supplies. Passengers began to line the hurricane deck, looking down on the action. Conway and Michael heard the bell tolling and dressed, and they too watched with more excitement than the rest of the cardsharps and fancy ladies. Deck hands began to tote the powder kegs and spare arms up the stairs to other places of storage pointed out by Captain King.
Captain Hayes looked up and noticed the two teens and their interest. "Laddies, you want to help out your native sons?"
"Yes, sir, Captain Hayes," and both boys saluted proudly.
"Well, I be damned, so we're not protecting a boat of thieves and whores." Some of the ladies looked shocked at the remark.
"Pardon me, ladies and gentlemen, but I was referring to the ones with disgust on their faces. Come on down, lads, and chip in. We need all the help we can get." Captain Hayes smiled.
Conway and Michael ran down the main cabin and down the stairs. "Conway James and Michael Hunter reporting for duty, sir," both boys said at the same time and they saluted Captain Hayes.
Captain Hayes smiled and returned the salute. "See that crate of muskets left on deck. Find a pry bar and open it. Then move it back by the stairs. We will use those instead of our own shorter-range muskets. You see, my boys, those are the best in the South. That is the famous 1855 Mississippi Springfield."
Conway and Michael found a pry bar and pulled the nails out of the boards holding the top on, then slid the crate by the stairs. Captain Hayes nodded and smiled. "Come here, lads, and watch the loading of the gun, then I will have a private find you two a uniform each. I know Vicksburg will not miss two."
The men on shore had the heavy ropes tied around the gun carriage and others tied to hold the heavy gun barrel steady. "Easy now, boys, easy," shouted Mr. Davis, the first mate. He walked over to the hoist and slowly turned an iron wheel, letting small amounts of steam into the machine, and the ropes began to tighten. The gun carriage began to groan and slowly it lifted from the muddy riverbank. The men watched silently as it slowly was picked up, then swung out over the river; the taut ropes squeaked in the pulleys as the 2 tons of metal and wood swung on the ropes three feet above the muddy water. "OK, men, lift the spars slowly while we raise the ropes." More steam was let into the hoist and the ropes groaned louder. The man on the spars tightened the ropes and they lifted. Soon the gun was balanced over the bow and the men sighed a small sigh of relief. The field piece was slowly let down as the ropes moaned and soon both wheels were on the deck. They untied the ropes and the soldiers rolled the gun back eight feet so they would have room to load it. The hawser swung back out over the river to the shore and the ammo chest was tied on. The chest itself was separate from the limber and the two large wheels. The chest was easily brought on board and then picked up and moved behind the gun. The deck hands tied the ropes back to the gangplank and it was lifted and swung back on board. Captain Hayes looked up to Captain King, "You may cast off now, sir."
"Very well, Captain Hayes." The big brass bell was rung 3 times and Captain King nodded to pilot Billings. He spoke into the speaking tube "Mr. Mattews, reverse slow, please."
"Aye, Pilot Billings, reverse slow it is." Plumes of gray wood smoke shot in the air from the stacks as the men opened the dampers and fresh wood was thrown on the hot coals. The big paddle wheel bit into the water and began to turn and the Miss Lou pulled back out into the main river channel. The big brass bell tolled once and the paddle wheel was reversed and Miss Lou was bound for Belle Bend once more.
The soldiers on the boiler deck started to set up the cannon. Captain Hayes saluted Sergeant Wells and turned to the boys, "Well now, let's see about those uniforms." "Private Fisher!"
"Yes, Captain Hayes," the private saluted.
"Take these two lads up to the Texas deck and find them some Confederate gray."
"Yes, sir, captain" and saluted once more. "Follow me, boys."
Conway and Michael fell into step behind the lanky boy. Fisher looked to be no more than 20 himself, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. They climbed the stairs and passed through the main cabin, then up another set of smaller stairs and soon they were standing on the roof of the hurricane deck. The smaller cabin before them was the Texas deck. They walked along the doors and soon came to one and went inside. They opened a crate and pulled out two sets of gray trousers with yellow stripes running down the legs, then two field jackets, also of heavy wool and sparkling brass buttons, then two kepi caps with a yellow band around the brim.
"OK, boys, go back to your cabin and change. I am sure Captain Hayes wants to see his newest soldiers." Fisher smiled, "You two will make a fine sight, two handsome lads side by side," and he winked.
Conway and Michael beamed with pride as they returned to their cabin. They quickly changed and then looked side by side into the large mirror, then they put their kepis on their heads, and standing before each other were two of the finest looking lads to don Confederate gray.
"Can you believe it, Conway, we're wearing the gray of the defenders of Vicksburg." Michael was smiling.
"I cannot believe any of it. I must be dreaming."
Michael kissed Conway on the lips. "Now do you believe it?"
"Yes, I do."
"We better report to Captain Hayes, Private James," Michael smiled and they walked out the door arm in arm.
Please read Flak Bait by my friend Willy. Also, we are looking for young artists who may be interested in helping us do an illustrated series based on this story and others.