Date: Sat, 19 Aug 2000 15:01:32 EDT
From: SWarri1349@aol.com
Subject: NO GREATER LOVE Chapter 6 Part 6 Gay Historical

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

* * *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.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

      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.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

      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.