Date: Wed, 5 May 2021 14:24:52 +0100
From: Vintage Speedoboy
Subject: Old Loewenstein 3

Old Loewenstein 3

This is the continuation story of Old Loewenstein which is entirely a work
of fiction and is not a true reflection on his character or his teenage
son. Please enjoy the story and find it in your heart to send Nifty a few
bob as after all they work hard to keep this site operating and we are all
leaving a legacy for our future. Please pop by and have a look in their
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Signed Vintagespeedoboy.

Teenager Jack Duggan successfully escaped from Sydney's Long Bay jail in
1924 and successfully stowed away on board the ocean liner SS Konigin Luise
bound for Southampton and was taken under Captain Albert Loewenstein's wing
from where he became apprenticed to the Fairey Aviation Company at Hayes in
Middlesex.

During those four years and attracted to London's seedy world of sex with
men in private health clubs &c he turned his life around becoming a highly
talented young engineer.

Four years later whilst riding his one year old 490cc Norton CS1 machine
home from a successful race at Brooklands, he was stopped for speeding by
the police and when they telephoned to check his record, they found he was
wanted for escaping from Sydney's Long Bay jail, he was promptly arrested
and taken to Weybridge police station to await his fate.

Hours passed by after Jack was finally booked in loudly protesting his
innocence. The interviewing sergeant recapped his interview saying.

"You are Jack Duggan, aged 19, living at Addison Gardens, Shepherds bush,
London. You are employed at Fairey Aviation as an aeronautical engineering
apprentice in your final year of studies; you have in your possession your
wallet containing some money, your driving licence and indeed your pilot's
licence. You have no criminal record in England and yet you are wanted for
escaping from Long Bay Jail, Sydney, Australia four years ago."

"That is correct sergeant."

"Then tell me what the hell's going on as the Australians want you so bad
that they're even sending someone to escort you onto a ship which is
leaving tomorrow morning. Look Jack, I've looked over your machine and it's
not something I would expect a youngster to be riding. Having spoken to
your boss, what I see here is talent, you are a person who's a damn clever
engineer to have made those parts and fixed that machine the way you have,
our mechanical engineer confirms this and he's impressed by the standard of
your workmanship particularly the neat welding on the crankcases, clearly
this is not something I would expect from a criminal who steals motor cars
and motorcycles. If I called your boss again telling him why you're here,
what do you think will happen? Yeah, bang goes your career, sonny, I'm
sorry, my hands are tied."

"All I did was to steal a few cars and they gave me `At his majesty's
pleasure'."

"Look, is there anyone I can call which is the least I can do?"

"Yes, it's Mr. Albert Loewenstein, room 212, Claridges hotel, London."

"I say, you are well connected to know him, what's your connection with
him?"

"I was his personal assistant, rather like a valet and a personal
secretary."

"Sonny, I'm only doing this for you as I can see you're not a bad lad, I'll
call him right away."

"Thank you sergeant".

The sergeant returned a few minutes later saying.

"I've called the hotel switchboard and they've tried connecting me to no
avail, she's checked his message book only to find he's out of the country,
I'm sorry I can't give you better news."

He felt as though his world was coming apart and the only thing left was to
write Old Loewenstein a letter and having done that, he sealed the envelope
and passed it to him knowing he will definitely be posting it.

The hours seemed to pass by very slowly smoking his cigarettes more
frequently with the sergeant looking in on him and returning with fish and
chips and making him a mug of tea after going off duty.

After his evening meal all that was left was to try and fall asleep on a
hard bed when after midnight an Australian official accompanied by a
Scotland Yard detective inspector came for him, handcuffed him, drove him
to Southampton and led him up the gangplank of the Pacific and Orient steam
navigation ocean liner SS Oronsay and handed over to the ship's Master at
arms who escorted him accompanied by a sailor through the ship down into
the bowels of the ship and locked him in a tiny cabin hours before the ship
was due to start boarding passengers.

Left alone to contemplate his thoughts with his pleas falling on deaf ears,
he tried sleeping, all to no avail with the sounds of machinery &c keeping
him awake until fitful sleep finally overcame him.

He was woken up by the Master at arms accompanied by a young bell boy
bringing him his breakfast in a silver covered heated dish with a pot of
tea. He opened the dish revealing the freshly cooked full English breakfast
with its mouthwatering smells seeing that despite his predicament and
confined in the ship's brig away from all the other passengers he was being
served meals of a high standard befitting an ocean liner.

Throughout the night he heard the ship being finally loaded with provisions
and the passengers boarding from early morning when it finally sunk in as
he heard the ship's whistle sounding then felt its movement away from the
quay as tugs towed her out into Southampton water and he felt the vibration
as the ship's six steam turbines driving her two propellers finally got
under way on its six week passage to Sydney, Australia.

Eight weeks is a long time to be on your own whiling away the time locked
in a poorly lit room with barely enough room to swing a cat with only a
single bunk with a sink, mirror and toilet wearing only race leathers with
his crash helmet, gloves and boots on the floor and an empty bedside
cabinet beside him when he took off his race leathers leaving him wearing
only socks, vest and underpants and rang the bell.

A sailor looked through the hatch angrily saying.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" Jack countered him with.

"You listen to me for once in your life. I don't hold any bad feelings
towards you as you're only part of the ship's crew, I'm locked in here
cooped up like an animal for a six week voyage with only what I'm wearing,
yes, one vest, a pair of socks and one pair of underpants, my race leathers
are on the floor because it's too damn hot in this tub. Now, whatever it is
I've done, the least I deserve is a change of clothes, washing and shaving
kit and a book to read so please go to your boss and for god's sake tell
him."

"Look sir, I don't like seeing you like this on my watch, the Master at
arms isn't going to like it and he'll tear me off a strip for asking, I'll
try but don't hold your breath."

"Then tell him this, `what would he rather have me do, stew in my own
juices for six weeks or have me working my passage, it's either one or the
other."

"All right, I'll go and see him."

Hours passed by interrupted by a strikingly youthful red haired bellboy
bringing his lunch on a trolley with his own lunch contained in two heated
serving dishes of lamb chops with mint sauce, roast potatoes and peas with
fruit cocktail and ice cream inside a stainless steel pot contained within
a large ice bucket of salted ice with a pot of coffee, cream and Demerara
sugar and a copy of Jules Verne's book, Master of the world.

He published his novel 24 years previously so he would have definitely
known about both Giffard's and Count Zeppelin's airships from contemporary
press accounts of the time, he may have possibly seen cine footage at a
theatre and he would certainly have read about the Wright brothers having
recently flown their machine at Kitty Hawk on December of the previous
year.

This bellboy sat down with him and struck up a conversation sharing the
luxurious ice cream from a tin inside the ice bucket as he said to Jack
whose lust for this young bellboy raged throughout his body wanting to get
inside his pants.

"Cookie's made this lot especially for you from his grandmother's recipe
using salted ice inside the ice bucket to freeze it which takes about an
hour, he had me stirring it until if froze, he's made it with milk, eggs,
melted butter and vanilla flavouring with a tot of rum and a handful of
raisins."

"You tell him from me, this is very good and thank him, what time do you
knock off?"

"Six `o' clock, afterwards I have my evening meal and then I'm free."

"Look, it can't hurt to ask you to give me some company, can it?"

"I suppose not, it's just that the master at arms is a right fucking
bastard, I have to be going, hope to see you soon."

"What's your name?"  .  .  .  "James Burrell."

"Mine's Jack Duggan, let's shake on it, for friendship's sake."

"James, there is something I want you to do for me, this ship is bound to
have a radio and passengers usually send telegrams, can you please ask the
radio operator to send a telegram for me, it's very important?"

"I'll see what I can do," Jack fished out a small pocket notebook and
pencil and wrote.

`Captain Alfred Loewenstein, room 212, Claridges hotel, London,
England. `Dear Alfred. I have been arrested by the police and placed in the
brig on board the SS Oronsay, a passenger liner bound for Sydney,
Australia, please help me, Jack Duggan.' Reply requested.

Owing to the small size of his notebook, Jack's message took up both sides
of a page when he pleadingly asked him.

"Jim, I know these cost money to send and right now I have very little, All
I have is just enough for a gallon of petrol for my motorcycle and a mug of
tea with a cheese roll on my return journey home, until the coppers stopped
me on the road, please try and ask him to sneak this one out for me."

Jim left promising to return after his evening meal and walked smartly
straight to the wireless room asking.

"The bloke in the brig's asking to have this sent," He read the message
saying. "Sorry sonny, it's more than my job's worth to send this, besides,
who's going to pay for it as this one will cost a tanner a word," he
totaled up the message saying. "This one will cost you a guinea mate, I
suggest you ask round all your mates and have a whip round, besides, a nice
young lad like you will easily rake it in performing special services to
rich passengers," when he felt Jim's cock through his bell boy's uniform
trousers which hardened immediately saying.

"You've got a nice one tucked away down there my lad, go away and use it
for what it's meant for whilst I send this one off."

The hours passed by and not having received Old Loewenstein's reply, he
wrote a second message out on another leaf from his note book which read.

`Father Thomas Dunlea, Saint Peter's Church, Surrey Hills, Sydney,
Australia. `Dear Father, I have been arrested and put on board the SS
Oronsay bound for Sydney, Australia. Please try and help me as they'll
throw me straight in prison. Jack.' Reply requested.

 He knew that sending those telegrams would put him in debt with the ship's
crew but he had very little choice.

James arrived as promised wheeling a serving trolley containing both their
meals with two bottles of beer inside the ice bucket saying.

"Cookie's thrown in a beer each and he said to throw the empties over the
side after we've finished with them."

They tucked into their meals and drunk their beer, James was about to throw
the empties over the side when Jack said "Stop!"

James said. "Look, you can't have these found in here and I can't risk
taking them back either."

"Jim, I will throw them over the side, now go and fetch me some writing
paper, a pen and two corks please."

"You crafty sod, you're sending two messages in bottles,"

"It's my last throw of the dice although when they'll be found is anyone's
guess."

Jim returned with a sheaf of writing paper bearing the shipping line's
logo, a writing set from the lost property store and corks for the
bottles. Jack wrote identical messages which read.

From Jack Duggan, SS Oronsay, March 1928.

I am being extradited to Sydney, Australia on board this vessel and
respectfully request whoever finds this to please write to the following
persons.

Captain Albert Loewenstein, room 212, Claridges hotel, London, England.

Father Thomas Dunlea, Saint Peter's church, Surrey hills, Sydney,
Australia.

Please inform them when this message was found.

Kind regards. Jack Duggan.

After blotting both letters, he rolled one up inserting it into the bottle,
corked it and tossed it out of the porthole keeping the second one for when
the ship reaches Australian waters hiding it in his motorcycle boot. It was
a long shot knowing that a message in a bottle could float in the world's
oceans for many years before it's found.

Jack said. "Jim, I only have two quid and some loose change in my wallet, I
really should give you a quid to go towards the telegrams."

Jim replied. "Keep it, the lads have had a whip round to pay for them, I
could use a smoke though," Jack took out two cigarettes from his pack, lit
them and passed one to Jim realizing he only had three left, had he not
been stopped on the road he would have bought another pack on his way to
work the following morning, he asked Jim.

"So Jim, where are you from and how old are you?.

"I'm 15 and I come from Marchwood, Southampton, it's a village across
Southampton water on the western side."

"I think you're very lucky to be working on such a fine ship as this one."

"Dad's retired from the navy now but he knew a lot of people who got me
this job."

"Have you had any excitement with passengers, like giving them special
services?"

"You know about this then, yes, it's a good way to make loads of money on a
voyage if you know what I mean, ships do have their secrets."

"Can you come back here later tonight?'

Jim finished his cigarette, knocked on the door and was let out wheeling
the serving trolley; he blew Jack a kiss and gave him a thumb's up sign.

Jim returned around 9.30 pm wheeling a serving trolley with a spare blanket
and a tin of 50 cigarettes. This time it contained tins of tea, coffee,
powdered milk, his prized ex military mess kit, a pot stand and his highly
prized American made J Heinrich's of New York brass alcohol stove with a
tin of fuel. Jack studied this item with a lot of interest having learned
about the type used in the prison and by swagmen made from small condensed
milk tin cans which they sometimes used during the bushfire seasons if they
were lucky enough to scrounge some methylated spirits mainly for heating
water for their Billy tea.

Jim fuelled the stove from the tin, lit it and waited until it bloomed with
a blue flame like a gas ring, stood a pot stand over it with a mess tin
filled with water from the tap saying to Jack.

"Now we're going to have a proper cup of Rosy Lea," after this you can make
one whenever you want."

The heat from the stove gave a pleasing warmth to the small cabin and when
the water boiled, Jim made two mugs of tea and opened the tin containing
biscuits from which they took two each. Jim took a sip then uttered a sigh
of satisfaction saying. "This is so civilized."

After finishing their tea, Jim said.

"It's a long way to Sydney and I want to treat you to our special
services."

He stripped out of his bell boy's uniform totally naked and his cock was
already rock hard nesting in a red haired pubic bush. Jack studied his
naked form with desire pleased to see the boy had a large cock and his
chest was sporting small budding breasts topped by large nipples on brown
areolas. He passed Jack a tin of Vaseline to lube up his huge cock and his
teen boy hole then bent him over the bed and slowly pushed his rock hard
cock inside him quickly realizing that Jim was already highly experienced
having already taken countless well heeled passengers cocks up him. This
boy certainly pressed all his buttons fuelling his lust which rose to new
heights whilst thrusting into him when within minutes his huge cock quickly
exploded into him filling his bowels with his warm spunk with the mewling
boy uttering loud sighs before disengaging.

Jack turned his attention to Jim's cock which filled his mouth, already
highly experienced after four years in London, he expertly tongued the head
of his cock licking at his piss slit tasting his oozing pre-cum when he too
exploded spectacularly in his mouth as jets of his sweet tasting boy spunk
hit the back of his throat whilst bobbing on his cock exciting his highly
intense orgasm to new heights as he bucked and screamed in ecstasy begging
him to stop.

He carefully sucked out any remaining spunk from his shaft then gave him a
loving spunk laden tongue kiss which Jim swallowed immediately as he loves
the taste of his own spunk followed by sleeping together in the one bed for
the night.

The following morning, another bell boy knocked on the door calling out.

"Wake up you lover boys, cookie's sent you breakfast in bed," The door was
opened letting in the bell boy wheeling a serving trolley containing their
full English breakfasts. Jim stretched and yawned as he sat naked out of
bed. Jack quickly realized that these bell boys were indeed a very close
knit bunch who weren't fazed in the slightest at seeing each other naked
when Jim asked.

"Hi John, any news today?"

John spoke with an Australian accent saying. "Your lover boy mate's
received a telegram during the night, I reckon he must be well connected to
receive one from one of his crim mates, here you are Mr. Duggan," as he
passed Jack the sealed envelope.

Jack carefully opened it and his face beamed a huge smile reading Father
Dunlea's reply, John said.

Come on, please read it out as we all trust each other with our secrets:
don't we Jim, to which he replied. "We sure do."

Jack lovingly read through it then read it out aloud saying.

"G'day Jack, sorry to learn of your predicament. I trust you'll have a safe
voyage. I am instructing our solicitor on this matter who will endeavour to
meet you off the ship, with god's love. Father Thomas Dunlea. Saint Peter's
church."

John asked. "So who's this priest mate of yours?"

"He runs a home for wayward boys at his church, he's a wonderful man and
I'm one of his old boys, he also takes in orphans and every one of them is
properly looked after, he makes sure we're properly schooled, play sports,
taught to swim and when we reached school leaving age he sends us to either
an industrial school as day boys or the lucky ones become apprentices."

"So, what about you? I've heard the cops badly want you back in Sydney."

"It's a long story; I was sentenced to his majesty's pleasure and 100
strokes of the birch for stealing cars. That means others decide my life
and whether or not or if and when they'll finally decide to finally let me
out. They've as good as told me I was in for the rest of my days and when I
was about to receive my first 10 strokes, the doctor examined me and had
the proceedings stopped which then has to go back to the court who
sentenced you. The appeal was refused which now becomes decided by the
state governor which usually takes only days.

There was nothing for it, I had to escape from there for which I had loads
of help but even with the best efforts and brutally hard training under the
guidance of an old navy diver could barely prepare me for a single rope
climb over a 50 foot wall with a backpack.

From there I made my way to Saint Peters church then stowed away on a ship
called the Konigin Luise and made it to England.

I met a wonderful man called Captain Albert Loewenstein, who's very rich,
and he paid for my pilot's licence and flight training, I became his
personal assistant until he had me apprenticed to Fairey Aviation as an
engineer. My boss is always telling me that I have a natural talent for
things mechanical and love making and fixing things."

John said. "The whole thing bloody stinks, here you are, a talented
engineer destined for greater things and they're about to throw you back in
the slammer, someone should be giving those bastards a piece of your mind."

"I think there's more to this than meets the eye. Some public servant's
obviously kicking up a stink writing letters to the press and parliament,
the upshot is that someone in high places is demanding that I be made an
example of. They think I'm just some poor kid who's absconded from juvenile
jail. That was four years ago, now I'm a talented engineer working for an
aircraft company, I hold a pilot's licence and regularly fly Old
Loewenstein's Avro 504K biplane and I rebuilt my 1927 Norton CS1 racer
after its engine blew up last year which is still at Weybridge police
station for the bastards to auction off."

"I've got news for you, your bike's been loaded into the hold, I've seen it
and she's a real beauty for a mean jigger. I'm betting that you know some
highly placed people."

"I did meet the air minister personally at the Royal Aero club in London
who congratulated me on gaining my pilot's licence."

"See what I mean, a good barrister will cut those bastards down to size,
you mark my words, I reckon you'll soon be on the same boat back home."

There was a loud knock at the door and the Master at arms entered, pointing
to both bell boys he said.

"Right you pair of scallywags, clear off." Now he was alone with the very
man he despised on the ship wearing only his vest and underpants which are
overdue for washing looking at him with venom in his eyes when he said.

"Mr. Duggan, the captain wants to see you at 10 `O' clock this morning."

"Fine, I'll need some clothes as I can't have him seeing me like this."

"I'll put someone on it." When he smartly left and locked the door".

An hour later, Jack walked out of a passenger cabin freshly showered and
shaved wearing Cologne smartly dressed in a suit accompanied by the head
bell boy who led him to the ship's bridge, knocked on the door which was
opened for him when he said.

"Captain, I have Mr. Duggan with me sir."

"Show him to my cabin, there's a good fellow."

Once inside the captain's cabin he addressed Jack with.

"I am Captain Donaldson, the ship's master, I take it you're well and my
crew have taken good care of you."

"I am indeed sir."

"Cutting to the chase, I have become aware that you are held in very high
regard by certain persons in very high places. I am also aware of ship to
shore telegraph communications being made and I would like to know who is
going to pay for them?."

"This is something I arranged with the crew and besides, as a prisoner on
board your ship; I do have the right to notify my immediate family and
friends."

"Yes, quite, now, if you promise not to escape, Mr. Loewenstein has asked
me to grant you 12 hours shore leave when the ship docks at Alexandria, he
expresses a wish to take you shopping."

 Jack thought about this and had the ship been close to the English coast,
he would have no hesitation in jumping off the stern and swimming to shore
but that was not to be as the ship was miles out to sea and the water's
freezing cold. Besides, even if he had pulled off that stunt, Old
Loewenstein would have certainly disowned him so he made his peace with the
captain who replied.

"I have also learned that you would rather work your passage than stew in
your juices in the brig, therefore my head steward would like you to join
his team of bellboys."

He replied with a resolute yes and shook the captain's hand who smiled at
him saying. "Splendid, jolly good show."

In many ways Jack saw this as a victory over that evil bastard of a master
at arms and being the holder of a pilot's licence, he also held a radio
licence as well, passing this meant being fully conversant with Morse code
and the ship's radio room could be his voice to the outside world.

Claridges Hotel, two days after sailing.

Old Loewenstein had just freshly arrived from Croydon Airport and the
moment he entered the foyer, a blond haired receptionist called out to him.

"Mr. Loewenstein, There's a number of letters and telegrams for you, both
the police have telephoned from Weybridge and Fairey aviation asking about
Jack Duggan."

"I'll take the calls in my room."  .  .  .  .  "Certainly Mr. Loewenstein."

He composed himself whilst he sat at his desk laying all the letters out
opening the telegrams first and flew into a rage when he read Jack's
telegram followed by his letter having recognized Jack's handwriting on the
envelope; he read his letter with tearful eyes knowing that this day would
have finally came for Jack. All the rest of the communications were
business which his personal secretary could deal with, he placed calls to
Weybridge police station, Fairey aviation and the shipping line requesting
the ship's route and ports of call then placed another call to his booking
agent for the next flight to Paris and the Orient express to Athens
connecting to Pireaus for the sailing to Alexandria to meet with his
beloved Jack. Now he had to hurriedly pack a fresh suitcase for his journey
before his driver drove him to Croydon airport for the next flight to
Paris.

Jack certainly impressed his immediate superiors having executed his duties
as a bellboy efficiently thanks to Old Loewenstein grooming and mentoring
him in the ways of high society, he became popular with the passengers who
tipped him handsomely and thankfully he was moved from the dingy brig in
the bowels of the ship to a cabin which he shared with 3 other bellboys, 2
of which had previously delivered his meals whilst in the brig. Meanwhile
the ship's purser managed to find him a tropical white suit, socks,
underwear, shoes, silk shirt and tie for when he was off duty adding to his
newly acquired suit of clothes.

He received a telegram from Old Loewenstein which read.

`Dear Jack, I will meet you in Alexandria. I have also telegraphed Father
Thomas Dunlea asking him to meet you on arrival and instructed my bankers
to cable 1,000 pounds to him enabling him to brief counsel for your
defence,

Regards- Albert'.

That one telegram lifted his spirits immensely which he showed to the other
bellboys having brought them onto his side? It was as though the whole
atmosphere on the ship had changed overnight.

The ship's crew raided the ships lost property room finding a suitcase
belonging to a German Passenger from a previous voyage which remained
unclaimed and Jack was led to the room to select more clothes. Most of the
clothes were made in Germany apart from the English Saville Row suit and
fine silk shirts. John pulled out a package labeled Munsingwear and opened
it seeing it contained six pairs of fine silk black briefs saying.

"Here Jack, these must be for a woman, they're so naughty like." Jack took
one and placed it across his front when John Uttered. "They look like
they'll fit you."

Jack saw from the labels that this person was about the same size and build
as him so he repackaged the suitcase which John carried back to their cabin
as he still wore his bell boy's uniform which wouldn't draw any attention
then carefully removed the original luggage label from the suitcase
replacing it with another one bearing Jack's name and the address of St
Peter's church.

Old Loewenstein gazed at the immaculate immensely powerful 4-6-4 locomotive
with its two parallel cylinders and pistons on each side driving six huge
driving wheels through highly polished steel connecting rods with another
four smaller wheels in front and four wheels on the coal tender. Its dark
blue coloured gold lined paintwork bearing the Orient express crest gleamed
with its polished brass and copper tubes at the cutting edge of locomotive
design which could easily challenge the tyranny of distance in its stride
like a thoroughbred racehorse.

Everything about this train oozed luxury with uniformed bellboys politely
ushering passengers onto the train with nice white polished toothed smiles
This was the Orient Express and despite its hugely immense power and speed
capable of breaking the 100 mph barrier with ease and yet even this train
couldn't reach his beloved Jack fast enough and Old Loewenstein heaved a
huge sigh of relief from the luxurious comfort of his Pullman seat as the
locomotive's loud booming puffs announced the Orient Express gracefully
pulling out of Paris Gare de Lyon station starting out on its journey to
Athens and onward to Istanbul. He shortly ate a light meal before retiring
for the night.

Alexandria, Egypt.

Jack eagerly watched in anticipation from the open deck of the SS Oronsay
as she finally docked at Alexandria in brilliant sunshine with a warm
gentle breeze blowing and despite wearing his tropical white clothes, the
March sun burned at him with the equal ferocity to that of a Sydney Spring
equinox day.

The Master at arms escorted Jack through passport control with a more
pleasant demeanor and exchanged pleasantries with Old Loewenstein saying.

"Mr. Loewenstein, here's your boy, you just take care of him and don't
forget to bring him back."

"You have my assurance I will return him to you, meanwhile I will show him
some of the sights but more important, I must take him shopping."

They openly hugged each other grinding their groins feeling each others
rock hard cocks when Jack started crying. Old Loewenstein mopped his eyes
with a handkerchief then led him to a taxi.

They entered a plush department store the equal of Macey's of New York or
Harrods of London, one of several owned by Jewish proprietors catering for
the upper echelons of society. Jack could only drool at their wares and yet
Old Loewenstein had a list already prepared and read it out to him from
which he would buy and pay for Jack's requirements but first they went to
the cafeteria for tea with buttered scones and over tea Old Loewenstein
took a brochure out from his fine Russian leather briefcase and passed it
to Jack saying.

"I want you to have a look at this."

Jack's eyes beamed at the maker's brochure for the Fokker FV11A-3M Trimotor
three engined aircraft. He read through the technical specifications noting
it was powered by three 200 horsepower Armstrong Siddeley Lynx 7 cylinder
radial engines. He blew a phew with astonishment when Old Loewenstein said.

"This will be my new aircraft and when you finally arrive back from
Australia, I would like you to fly it for me occasionally."

"I would be honoured to act as your co-pilot as and when the need arises,
however may I suggest having your aircraft fitted with the American Wright
whirlwind engines, after all, they have been proven with one of those
engines powering Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St Louis across the
Atlantic."

"My dear Jack, I have thought of that, however with the price, lead time,
shipping and customs duties making it a non starter otherwise I would have
done so."

Refreshed by the fine English tea and buttered scones, they scoured the
store selecting Jack's necessities etc. There was little clothes left to
buy for Jack's wardrobe although he bought him three pairs of shoes, one
for dress, one working pair and a pair of canvas sports shoes with a set of
sports flannels, shorts, a one piece silk swimsuit in his size (This was
before the time men swam bare chested), working trousers, both dress and
working shirts and a leather cased men's grooming kit with a King Gillette
three piece safety razor with a pack of their blue razor blades and from
another department a leather cased travel alarm clock, leather billfold,
leather loose leaf notebook, leather cased writing set of Basildon bond
writing paper, envelopes, Parker fountain pen, separate bottle of ink etc
to which he would later add the shipping line's writing pad. Old
Loewenstein paid for Jack's shopping, left the store into a taxi which took
them to a fine Italian restaurant for a seafood pizza lunch followed by
taking them to a short term rented apartment.

Jack wrote his letter of apology to his boss at Fairey Aviation fully
explaining his predicament leaving the c/o Father Thomas Dunlea at Saint
Peter's Church for his mailing address before they both stripped naked as
Old Loewenstein was chomping at the bit for sex and so was his beloved
Jack.

They fell into passionate love making tongue kissing, fondling, nipple
sucking before Jack positioned himself to take Old Loewenstein's hugely
monstrous cock up his rear hole thankful that the other bell boys have
already been up there as well as having shagged their arses and some of the
passengers in their cabins. Nevertheless he did a thorough job of lubing
Jack's rear hole before slowly pushing his huge monster right up inside
him.

He pistoned into him gently with each stroke exciting Jack's love button
inside him and despite the regular milking of his spunk by the bell boys,
he shot huge volleys of spunk out like a fire hose without ever touching
his own huge cock triggering Old Loewenstein's huge load to flood his
insides and profusely leak back out onto the bed.

Both of them had a bath and shave each followed by getting dressed and
tidying up the room leaving the soiled bedclothes in the laundry
basket. Old Loewenstein paid for the apartment leaving the portly Arab a
generous tip who smiled at them admiring the smartly dressed businessman's
choice of young white teenage boys and left to a waiting taxi for the ship.

Old Loewenstein passionately tongue kissed and humped Jack in open view of
other passengers waiting their turns to board at the terminal before
finally giving him 100 pounds then kissing and waving him goodbye as he
watched Jack enter through the ship's crew entrance when he gave him a
final wave with a white toothed smile as his eyes flooded with tears with a
tearful voice.

"Promise me that you'll come back to me". Jack replied.

"Thanks for everything, I'll be home sooner than you think," Unbeknown to
him, this was the final time Jack saw Old Loewenstein as he entered the
crew check in to be met by the ship's Master at arms, checked through and
finally boarded the ship watching both smoke and sparks emanating from her
funnels fearing any soot ejected from them landing onto his tropical white
clothes.

Having arrived at the cabin, he learned that he would be working right away
joining the rest of the bell boys setting out the dining areas quickly
changing into his bell boy's uniform thankful of his bath and shave giving
his face a mop down and combing his hair.

The ship left early the next morning to arrive at her allotted time for
entering the Suez Canal joining the endless procession of ships steaming in
a never ceasing stem to stern line to exit at the Red sea onto Aden, her
next port of call before crossing the Arabian sea to Bombay, then onto
Singapore, Darwin, Brisbane and finally arriving at Sydney eight weeks
later to be summoned to Captain Donaldson's cabin to receive his wages and
a glowing reference (Which is a legal document in Australia) with a
handsome bonus for working efficiently at his duties followed by the Master
at arms escorting him to his cabin to collect his belongings and finally
escort him off the ship where Father Dunlea and two police constables were
waiting.

The Master at arms said. "You won't need a ball and chain for this lad, his
motorcycle will be offloaded and I trust you'll look after it for him."

Father Dunlea and Jack fell into a passionate hug when Jack, overwhelmed
with emotions cried loudly, the police constables stepped away leaving them
a bit of privacy before Jack handed the priest his billfolds to look after,
he took his overnight bag and left with the police constables in their car
to Long Bay jail.

Father Dunlea already had a large taxi van waiting to take Jack's
possessions onto St Peter's church and to collect the motorcycle later.

Four years is a long time to be away from Long Bay jail as there's a new
population there now, thankfully for Jack, a few of the old lags are left
but sadly Paddy was no longer with them having passed away the previous
year of a broken heart leaving Brendan now in charge of the reins.

Jack's fine clothes were held in storage and despite the waning Australian
summer, he wore his tee shirt and shorts during the day changing into warm
clothes at night and sleeping with extra blankets.

All the inmates respected Jack like the returning prodigal son and during
the coming days he recounted his story many times. Father Dunlea now visits
the prison weekly to conduct mass, to hear their confessions and give
comfort to those who need it.

One day he brought with him Terry `O' Brien, an eminent barrister
originally hailing from Belfast having sought him out to defend Jack in his
up and coming court hearing. After closely interviewing Jack and finding
him to be a compelling case for a bail application with Father Dunlea as a
surety, he finally left the jail to await his court case and finally
arrived back at St Peter's Church where he must live thankful there's
plenty of boys there to have sex with.

He changed into his working clothes, wheeled the Norton CS1 out, tinkered
with it putting fresh super fuel in the tank, primed its Amal racing
carburettur and bump started his machine when a raucous bellow emanated
from its Brooklands can silencer with the heavenly scents of castor oil
permeating around the street, he blipped the throttle a few times hanging
the slide on the cable, doffed his flat cap and MK VIII pilot's goggles
passed to him by one of the boys and rode his machine away for a well
deserved blast with the other wayward boys watching him intently hearing
the raucous bark gently fade away leaving them to savour the heavenly
scents of castor oil.

Jack rode his motorcycle to the airfield at Mascot where, as a boy he
watched the aeroplanes (mainly biplanes) taking off and landing. It was the
Avro 504K's with their heady scents of castor oil powered by their
revolving rotary engines which brought back his heady memories of Old
Loewenstein's aircraft until he saw a Fokker Trimotor with Southern Cross
emblazoned in large white letters on its fuselage parked outside a
maintenance hanger. He dismounted the machine parked it outside and walked
around gazing intently at the aircraft immediately spotting its three
Wright Whirlwind nine cylinder radial engines gazing at them in awe.

This aircraft truly was a record holder which not only challenged the
tyranny of distance with its Trans Pacific flight from the USA. For Jack to
be stood near this new and now famous iconic aircraft which seemed to be
subconsciously reaching out to him when his mind was brought back to
reality by Mack the chief engineer who watched his arrival on his Norton
CS1 and closely studied his machine thinking he was just another rich
teenager until he struck up a conversation with him.

Within minutes he realized that Jack was a highly talented young engineer
fresh off the boat on a British registered machine displaying its still
current tax disc and directed him to his office, so began an interview with
some very close questioning with Jack producing his wallet containing his
driving and pilots licences which began sealing the deal as Mack the chief
engineer wanted him on his team despite having to wait eight weeks for his
reference from Fairey Aviation to arrive from England which he would be
requesting by telegram which would return with an acknowledgement.  Firstly
Mack wanted to request Jack to perform a trade test.

Jack saw himself using precision measuring instruments as being taught to
suck eggs, next came the component identification which he sailed through
followed by reading engineering drawings and a tour of the hangar looking
at various aero engines, especially a 24 litre British Napier lion aero
engine with its three banks of four cylinders arranged in a W12
configuration sucking in his breath at learning this engine would be
powering a racing car before looking at parts of aircraft etc etc and
finally returning to the office.

Jack knew he had to be truthful with this man and by recounting his entire
story he was laying all his cards on the table knowing a criminal with his
record would be immediately shown the door with a size 12 boot up his arse
and yet despite this he wanted Jack on his team and said to him.

"Jack, I know you're a right character and you've been good enough to tell
me your life story. This country is known for giving anyone a fair go and
judging from our conversation I want to give you the fair go which you so
richly deserve and therefore I want you to start on Monday morning at 8 `O'
clock, should give you enough time to get a toolkit.

They finally shook hands and Jack rode away on his Norton CS1 watched by
Mack the chief engineer who, especially savoured those heavenly scents of
castor oil emanating from a thoroughbred motorcycle whereas he's normally
smelled it from revolving rotary aero engines. Jack arrived back at St
Peter's church a happy bunny beaming with delight saying.

"Father, I have just landed a job as an aircraft engineer".

"Young man, this calls for a celebration," he reached into the cabinet
where the altar wine's stored and brought out a plain clear bottle
containing a colourless water like fluid and poured two shots glasses
saying.

"This is Irish Poteen made the same way as in Ireland by the local
Feenians; it is of the best quality." Jack took a sip of this legendary
fiery liquid rumoured to send the drinker up six flights of stairs without
ever touching the stairway and he gasped loudly at its ferocity despite
having the smoothness of ancient brandy.

They clicked their glasses together with Jack saying.

"To our future whatever that may bring".

The next chapter is his court case.