Chapter 9 Note: The earliest date I could find on Barnacle Bill the Sailor was a 1930 recording by Hoagy Carmichael. I did find it listed at a Sea Chantey site as well, so I'm taking the risk that Charlie may have been familiar with it. I always had a soft spot for this song, and just thought it fit. Need I mention how *shocked* I was by the lyrics?? Also, I have no clue if Bang, Bang Lulu is appropriate to the time. But it is a song a sailor would sing.

Chapter 13 Note: song lyrics. The song is The Whiffenpoof Song, and it's one of Yale's most cherished traditions. Guy Scull is believed to have set this melody in the 90s to a freely adapted version of Rudyard Kipling's poem titled "Gentlemen Rankers". Reader's Digest Treasury of Best Loved Songs, copyright 1972, p.192. Gentleman Rankers refers to gentlemen who must become common soldiers, not having the money to buy a commission. "We're poor little lambs, who have lost our way. Bah, bah, bah. We're little black sheep, who have gone astray. Baa, baa, baa. Gentlemen rankers off on a spree, Doomed from here to eternity. Lord have mercy on such as we, Baa, baa, baa." Many thanks to Gail for taking the time to look this up for me.

Chapter 17 Note: Samhain, (pronounced Sow Inn-this always made me nuts) Oct.31, observed by the Celts, marks the end of their old year and the start of the new. Boxing Day, Dec. 26, in the UK, when gifts are given. Nairobi is the capital of British East Africa, also known as Kenya.

Chapter 18 Note: Some of the dialogue is from the movie.

Chapter 19 Note: Konigin is German for Queen. Imagine that, all these years, and I had no idea! Disguised is another word for drunk. The Watch was the local constabulary.

Boating down the Ulanga
by Tinnean

"Mr. Allnutt should be coming to Kungdu later today."

My head shot up at that pronouncement. I glanced uneasily at my brother, but he was fastidiously examining the platter of food the native servant had placed on the table and didn't see my interest.

His lip was curled in disdain, and I wasn't sure if it was because the grizzled boat captain would be required to take tea with us, or because he was unhappy with the choice of meats set before him.

"Well, it will be nice to see another white man, don't you think, Brother?"

"All men, no matter what their skin color, are God's creatures," he intoned piously. He sniffed disapprovingly as a native woman set the teapot at his elbow and silently left the dining room. What Brother did *not* say was that some men were *more* God's creatures than others.

His rigid beliefs were the reason his parish had sent him to this forsaken corner of German East Africa. The archbishop was dismayed to see the number of people Brother's abrasive comments drove from his church.

And because our parents were gone, and there was no one to look after me, willy nilly I found myself in Africa with him, his unpaid assistant.

Because I wasn't smart, as Samuel was, I was relegated to playing the organ, and fixing it when the damp of the climate got to it, and helping our native converts plant and harvest the crops that kept us fed.

I couldn't tell Brother how intrigued I was by the riverboat captain. Every few weeks, Mr. Allnutt would steam the African Queen down from the mines and bring us our mail and news of what was happening in the wide world beyond the boundaries of our little village.

****

The first time I had seen the captain of the African Queen, I had been frightened by his gruff exterior and loud, booming laugh. I had hung behind Brother and peeked cautiously around his shoulder, watching in awe as the boat captain ate a week's supply of bread and butter. He had sipped the tea it was my task to brew, but when Brother stepped out to reprimand one of the natives, Mr. Allnutt slipped a flask from his back pocket and took a long gulp.

I watched in fascination as the muscles in his throat rippled as he swallowed. He caught my eyes on him and grinned, his teeth amazingly white. "Want a sip, boy?"

"N...no, thank you, sir."

"Aw, hell, boy, I'm not a 'sir'!" he said as he tilted the flask to his lips.

"You're a ship's captain, sir!"

"Why, so I am!" He got out of his chair and walked casually toward me. I made myself stand still. "How old are you, boy?"

Nervously, I moistened my lips. "I'm...I'm nine, sir. Almost!" His hand was reaching to ruffle my hair.

"Is the brat pestering you, Mr. Allnutt? I'll send him to his room!"

I flinched at Brother's harsh tone of voice. Mr. Allnutt dropped his hand.

"Not at all, Reverend. We was just passing the time of day!" He winked at me, the flask suddenly nowhere to be seen. "Well, time for me to be shovin' off. I'll be back in a couple of weeks with the mail. Can I bring anything else back for you? Maybe some sweets for the boy?"

Brother's lips twisted in disapproval. "Rodney does not eat sweets. They rot the soul, as well as the teeth!"

I gazed forlornly at the bluff man who stood before us. I would have liked a piece of rock candy, but didn't dare contradict Samuel.

The boat captain shrugged. "All right, then. See you in two weeks. S'long, Reverend. Bye, boy!"

"Good day, er, Mr. Allnutt!" Brother stood at the top of the steps and watched, his mouth tight with disapproval, as the captain strode jauntily down to the dock. "Godless heathen!" he hissed under his breath.

The years slowly passed.

Brother shielded me from the carnal aspects of life in German East Africa, but occasionally I would come across a couple entwined under the canopy of the lush foliage that surrounded the village. The sight of a man and woman thus occupied left me mildly curious, but not at all eager to explore the realm of the senses.

This pleased Brother very much. He, himself, never visited the women in their huts, because he felt that having sexual congress with a woman, and a woman of color, would have put him beyond the pale.

I never questioned his beliefs; I never questioned the fact that I had no desire to lie with a woman.

And then one day, I happened upon two of the young men of the tribe. They were so involved with each other, that they didn't even realize they had an audience. Their moans filled me with confusion at first, until it occurred to me that they were coupled together. The one beneath was tightly embracing the larger man, offering his back passage for his plundering.

I watched in awe as the huge, dark member vanished again and again into the willing ass. My own prick was hard and leaking fluid, and I was ashamed, but not ashamed enough to abandon the wondrous sight before me. I couldn't resist rubbing the bulge at the front of my trousers, and as the two natives came with muted cries of completion, I bit down hard on my lip and erupted as well.

Silently, I faded back into the undergrowth, and they never knew they had been observed. I stared down at my trousers in dismay. How could I explain that wet stain to Brother? I began to shake as I envisioned the beating that awaited me.

A fly buzzed around my face, and nervously I brushed at it. My hand came away wet, and I started at the blood on it. Only then did I realize that I had bitten my lip so hard that I had broken the skin. And that gave me an idea.

I scooped up some of the rotted vegetation and smeared the front of my trousers with it, and my knees as well. And I knew that it was a shameful thing to pray for, but I prayed that just this once, the Lord God would see fit to have Brother believe the lie I was about to tell him. I returned to our cottage on the outskirts of the village.

"Rodney!"

I shivered. "Yes, Samuel?"

"Good God, boy! What's happened to you?"

"I thought I heard something in the jungle and was frightened. I ran. I must have stumbled over a vine, and I fell."

"Into the cottage!" His voice was shaking with anger. "Stupid boy!"

I ducked my head and hurried into the cool shadows of the room ahead of him.

"You've ruined your trousers! How many times have I warned you about going out into the jungle?" He bent me over and began spanking me. I should have been too old to be spanked, but I didn't dare object.

Finally, he released me, and I turned to face him, rubbing surreptitiously at my rump. Brother's face was flushed, and his eyes had a strange glitter. "Evil boy!" His hand rose, and I closed my eyes. The blow knocked me backwards. "Now see that you repair that damage!"

Gingerly, I touched my cheek and winced. "Yes, Brother," I whispered. "I'm very sorry!"

Of course I could never get the stain out, and for some months afterwards, Brother would bring up the subject of my foolish disregard for his instructions. I bowed my head and accepted his reprimands gratefully. If he discovered what had really transpired, he would have taken a cane to me.

****

We had been in German East Africa for ten years.

My skin was as pale as when we had first come to the Dark Continent, although there was some color in my face. Brother did not approve of going without a jacket, even in the oppressive heat of midday, but because I often forgot my hat, my brown hair had been bleached until it was almost ash brown by the sun. I was as tall as Brother now and no longer needed to look up to meet his
eye when he chastised me for some transgression.

I was no longer afraid of Mr. Allnutt, either. He treated me with good-humored disinterest. Over the years he had often brought me treats, making sure that Brother was nowhere around when he gave them to me. Other than an occasional absent-minded ruffle of my hair, he never touched me.

Of late, however, I had become wary of him. My body reacted so strongly when he was near that I made sure I always carried a hymnal when I knew he was coming to Kungdu. And I made sure it was always positioned in front of my trousers.

It was Sunday, September 14, and the congregation sang in a monotone as I pumped the organ and struggled to get the notes of the hymn out. My clothing was too warm for that time of year, but Brother had insisted, as usual. Patches of damp bloomed under my arms and down my back, and sweat pooled at my waist.

Salty perspiration stung my eyes, and I blotted my face on my shoulder, missing a key and producing a sour note. That earned me a glare from Brother, and I knew I had stained my copybook once again. I wondered how he intended to punish me this time. I sighed and blinked rapidly, hoping to keep the sweat out of my eyes.

The raucous screech of a boat's whistle cut through the drone of the natives and the gasps of the organ. Some of the men bounced on their seats, and then, unable to contain themselves, raced down the aisle to see what the Queen had brought this day.

It was unusual for Mr. Allnutt to come downriver on a Sunday. He knew how Brother objected to any kind of work on the Sabbath. Brother objected to everything on the Sabbath, except praying. I sighed and resigned myself to continue playing.

The natives had no qualms about doing anything on a Sunday. I often felt they humored my brother, and only gave his God lip service, secretly praying to the gods that had served their people since long before Europeans had ever come to their land.

The African Queen's whistle sounded once more, and the native men who remained beneath the thatch that shielded our heads from the African sun could bear it no longer. They ran to see if they could beg a cigarillo from the boat captain. Even the women were curious to see what supplies Mr.
Allnutt had brought down from the mine.

Brother and I continued the hymn alone, until it was finally done. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and closed the organ.

With measured step, he trod toward the path that led up from the river.

"Come along, Rodney. Let us see what Mr. Allnutt has brought us!"

Part 2

"Hi, Reverend! Hi, little Rev!" Mr. Allnutt, the captain of the river steamer the African Queen, came striding up the path from the landing. "I've got your mail!" He pulled it from the pouch and waved it above his head.

Brother's lips became pinched as he observed the state the captain was in. Badly in need of a shave, and a bath, a cheroot hanging from his mouth, Mr. Allnutt had clearly spent the night on the tiles.

"You know the Sabbath is the day of rest, Mr. Allnutt! I highly disapprove of you traveling down river on this day!"

"Sorry, Reverend. I has to take advantage of the river when I can."

"Oh, you've got my rose trees! That's splendid!" I hastened to interrupt. I took the plants from him. The roots were starting to dry out. "I'll just soak these in water. You'll stay for tea, Mr. Allnutt?"

He grinned at me. "That would be lovely, young Mr. Sayer. Thank you!" He tossed his cigar over his shoulder, and the villagers who had followed him up from the dock dived for it.

"Yes, of course, please do stay," Brother said sourly, and I knew he was displeased with my offer of a repast for the captain.

I sighed and hurried to the back of the cottage, where I found a large bucket to hold the delicate plants.

The native women who worked in the kitchen were aware that the African Queen had arrived and were eager to see what delights had come downriver this trip. They were throwing together a slipshod tea, and Brother would be exceedingly angry with such a poor showing. Even though he had no use for the man who delivered our supplies, he did not want to be thought negligent in any of the niceties.

I shooed the women out and took over the task myself. I poured the boiling water into the teapot over our carefully hoarded supply of tealeaves, and set it aside to steep while I began laying out a tray.

I knew Mr. Allnutt was almost as fond of sweets as I, but of course we had none, beyond a few cubes of sugar. Brother had taken to searching my room and had discovered the little pot of honey I had traded the natives for. The only thing that had saved me from a caning was the fact that he had found it on a Sunday.

"Rodney!" Brother bellowed, and I jumped. "Bring the tea tray immediately!"

"Yes, Brother," I called. "I was just preparing the tea."

I brought it out into the dining room and set the table with the cups and saucers. Then I placed the bread and butter before Brother and hurried back to the kitchen to fetch the tea.

As I poured, Mr. Allnutt's stomach began to rumble. "Just listen to that!" he grinned sheepishly. "Why, you'd think I had a hyena rollin' around in there, the way it's carrying on!"

"Two sugars and a little cream, correct, sir?" I asked, as I hovered at his side.

"That's right, little Rev. Fancy you remembering that!"

"Of course, he'd remember, Mr. Allnutt!" Brother huffed. "He's not as backwards as he appears, you know!"

The smile the boat captain's words had put on my face died. I sat abruptly and looked down at my own plate. Brother had not forgiven me for that sour note: it was empty. I was not to have any bread or butter. I moistened my lips and took a sip of my tea.

"No sugar, young Mr. Sayer?"

I looked at him briefly and then tore my eyes away. "Oh, no sir. I've...er, given it up. For Lent."

"Do you remember Herbie Morton, Rodney?" Brother interjected, glossing over the fact that Methodists did not observe Lent. He glanced up from the newspaper he was perusing, a faraway look in his eye. "I believe he sang Holy, Holy at the Commemoration Concert. Blond chap, a bit younger than I."

I stared at Brother blankly. He expected me to remember someone with whom he went to school? Cautiously, I turned my attention back toward our guest. "Would you care for more bread and butter, Mr. Allnutt?" I asked, trying to keep my voice low.

"Thanks, little Rev. I believe I would."

"He's a bishop, now! Only fancy! He was never much of a student, only had a modicum of the social graces!" Brother sniffed. "Of course, he married well. A manufacturer's widow."

Mr. Allnutt's stomach growled even more violently than before, and he shot my brother a grin. "Ain't a thing I can do about it, Reverend."

Brother looked down his nose at the captain and steadfastly ignored the rude noises.

"Tell me, Mr. Allnutt, why did you find it necessary to travel on the Sabbath?"

He waggled his eyebrows and shrugged. "One thing and another kept me in Limbasi. You know how it is, Reverend." He saw the way Brother was observing him. "No, maybe you *don't* know how it is." He popped the last bite of bread into his mouth. "I'd best be heading back upriver. There are going to be problems up at the mine. The Belgians will give me a royal going over, but I don't mind. It's one of those froggie tongues. I don't much mind being cussed out in a foreign language. And they can't fire me, they need me!" Mr. Allnutt grinned cheekily. "No one but me can get up a good head of steam on the old African Queen."

"Please stay for dinner, Mr. Allnutt!" I begged. The only time lately when I felt really happy was when he visited.

Brother gave me a glare that promised retribution later, and I swallowed hard.

"Sorry, little Rev. Not this time." He got up from his seat, taking a last gulp of his tea. "Oh, and I won't be back this way for a couple of months."

"What? Well, what about our mail?"

"Won't be any mail. The Germans will hold it up."

"Why, in heaven's name?" It was almost a whine.

"Well, there's the war..."

"*War*? What war?"

"The war in Europe, the one between Germany and England."

"And you only thought now to tell us?" Brother was livid, something he rarely let others see. "What's happened?"

Mr. Allnutt shrugged, disinterested. "Each side claims the other started it. France and a whole bunch of them little countries are in it to, Austria-Hungary, Belgium, Spain... Can't rightly tell you who's on which side."

"You really mean *war*?"

"It might be a good idea for you and the little Rev to get to Limbasi, you being enemy aliens!"

"No!" Brother exclaimed. "The good shepherd does not abandon his flock when the wolves are prowling! Is that all you can tell us, Mr. Allnutt?"

"That's all I know. I'll try to find out more when I get to Limbasi. You take care of yourselves. Especially you, little Rev," he said softly. "Thanks for the tea." He waved and strode to the river where the African Queen was docked.

"Good-bye, Mr. Allnutt!" I watched until the Queen chugged around the bend and was no longer in sight.

"Wretched little man! Who does he think he is? He's Canadian; doesn't he realize he's involved in this as much as any of us?"

I knew better than to respond to that. "Mightn't it be a good idea to go to Limbasi, Brother?"

His mouth tightened. "Clean up the dishes and then go practice that song on the organ until you can play it without making a stupid mistake!"

My shoulders slumped and I turned to obey him. I was stacking the dishes on the tray, when an uproar exploded in the village, and I bolted onto what Brother liked to call the verandah.

"Bwana! Bwana!" The headman's son ran up to us and began pouring out a warning about approaching soldiers.

Brother stood watching in dismay as the thatched huts began sprouting plumes of flame. The native women fled into the jungle, while their men were rounded up by khaki-clad askaris, native soldiers who served under the German officers of Kaiser Wilhelm.

"What is the meaning of this?" Brother demanded of the hauptmann who was approaching up the path, stepping before him to block his way. "How dare you?"

I saw the signal the German captain gave his man, although I doubt that Brother did. The stock of the rifle slammed into his jaw before he knew what was happening, and he crumpled to the ground.

"Samuel!" I cried, and threw myself down beside him. There was a dazed look in his eyes. Never before had he been struck.

The captain nodded, and two of his men dragged Brother into the house. When I scrambled to my feet to follow them, I was seized by a pair of askaris and flung aside. My head collided with the side of the cottage, and I sank down into oblivion.

It was almost dark when I regained consciousness. But...the sun was still high over my shoulder. How could that be? And then I realized it was the heavy pall of smoke dimming the light of day. The village was nothing more than ash.

I got to my feet unsteadily and leaned against the cottage, waiting until my stomach settled down and the landscape stopped dipping. I took a deep breath and choked on the smoky air.

"Brother!" I staggered into the dim rooms and stumbled over the remains of the dining room table, which had been shattered. "Samuel!"

A quavering moan disturbed the unnatural silence of the cottage. I followed the sound to his study, and found him crouched against the wall.

'Brother!"

His eyes were on some unseen horror. His mouth was swollen, and the side of his face was deeply bruised. Something white and musky-smelling stained his shirtfront. He flinched when I approached him.

"Samuel," I said softly. "It's Rodney. What did they do to you, Brother?"

"Rodney? Rodney? I don't feel at all well. Help me to bed!"

"Yes, of course. Here, Samuel, lean on me." I slid my shoulder under his arm and got him to his feet. Somehow I got him to his room and onto his bed. "I'm going to get some water and cloths, and I'll clean you up, Samuel."

He grabbed my sleeve. "Don't leave me," he slurred. "Don't let them do that to me again! Don't let them put their members into my mouth, and...and..." He leaned over and vomited onto the floor.

"They're gone, Brother." I eased him back onto his bed and stroked his forehead. The porcelain pitcher of water was still on his dresser. I found a handkerchief and dampened it, then gently wiped it over his mouth and chin.

"They're all gone."

Part 3

I sat at Brother's bedside, trying to pray, but his words distracted me. Since the German attack on him, he had been lost in another, happier time.

"Herbie...your blond hair...your soft blond hair..."

"Touch me, Herbie. Please touch me!"

A voluptuous sigh. "Kiss me, dear boy!" He grabbed my arm and pulled me onto his chest, searching for my mouth. I managed to turn my head, and the wet kiss landed on my cheek, his tongue warm against my skin. "Herbie...don't be coy! You know you want what I can give you, no matter how much you deny it!"

Gently I disengaged myself from my brother's grasp. "Samuel, it's Rodney. Herbie isn't here."

"Don't tease me, Herbie." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I love you, you know! Please, love me back! You must..."

His mind seemed to wander elsewhere, somewhere dark and frightening. "No, please! Don't hurt me! Don't make me..."

"Hush, Brother. It's all right. No one is here to hurt you."

"Smite them, Lord! Oh, please! Kill them for what they have done to me, what they made me do..." His meanderings took another turn, and he began to weep. "The archbishop has learned of our feelings for each other, and he is so displeased with me, Herbie. I do understand why I am chastised, and not you as well. So fair, so vibrant. Who could not help but love you, Herbie? We will volunteer to go to Africa together!"

I remembered that time. Brother had come home, white-faced and shaken, and told me that we would be leaving for Africa as soon as our affairs could be gotten in order. And we went one last time to the cemetery where our parents lay primly together, side by side.

"I've disappointed you, Mother. I'm so sorry. But I've no facility with the languages. That's why I must become a missionary." His voice lowered, and I know he did not realize I could distinguish his words. "Father, forgive me. My transgression is so great! I must leave England! I cannot bear to stay here. But a dear friend will come to Africa with me, and we will see to each other's well-being, and do the Lord's work!"

Only, the dear friend never arrived at the dock, and we were forced to leave without him. Brother was never overly affectionate before that time, but afterwards he became cold and harsh and determined to find error in everything I did.

"I prayed, Herbie," Brother was whispering. "Every night I prayed that you would join me. And finally, when you never did, I resigned myself to a life without you by my side. There was Rodney, though, and I knew the Lord had a use for him. Never very bright among the lads, but he can play the organ and till the soil. Even such a one as he will find grace doing the Lord's work here in this ungodly place!"

Slow tears slid down my cheeks. I rose and went to stand by the window. As with everything else in the cottage, the woven shade had been savagely destroyed. The view out the window was desolate, our little garden raped as surely as my brother's mouth had been.

What little breeze there was carried the cloying scent of death. Livestock that couldn't be taken with the soldiers had been wantonly slaughtered, and scavengers fought over the remains. I no longer had the heart to run out and chase them away.

A loud thud behind me jerked me away from the window, and I whirled around to find Brother on the floor. I hurried to his side and wrestled him back onto the bed.

"I must...I must see to the planting, Rodney! It's so late in the season! We'll never get the crops harvested in time for winter!"

"Samuel, we're in Africa. It doesn't matter when we plant." I was relieved that once again he knew me. And then my heart sank as I looked into his confused eyes. That brief, lucid moment was gone.

"I'm...I'm so tired, Herbie. I think I'll try to sleep for a little while."

"Yes. Sleep, Samuel. When you awake, I'll have a nice bowl of soup ready for you."

He smiled drowsily. "Yes, please. That would be so nice. And a cup of tea, perhaps? I'm so cold. Why am I so cold, Herbie? Come lie with me!" I bit my lip and drew the light blanket up to his shoulders, tucking it securely around him.

"After you've rested, Samuel," I murmured, my voice cracking.

"Yes..." He turned on his side and slipped into a light doze.

A chicken that had escaped the Huns was scratching at a barren patch of ground. I caught it easily and twisted its neck. It would take some time to dress the carcass, but there was no rush. I prepared the fire in the stove, filled a pot with water, and then sat and plucked the feathers. It would have been easier to scald them off, but I didn't have water to spare. The Germans had tipped over our cistern, and I needed to use the water from the Ulanga. Which meant it had to be boiled before it could be used.

When the scrawny bird was finally free of feathers and had been gutted, I put it in the pot and let it begin to simmer. There was no salt or herbs available, but I thought hunger would make the best seasoning.

Then I just sat down and waited.

The cottage was a shambles. When Brother was more himself, he would be quite cross that I had not tried to repair the damage done by the soldiers, but at that moment I couldn't bring myself to do anything more.

****

"Little Rev! Little Rev!"

I looked up from where I sat on the cottage steps. What was Mr. Allnutt doing back here in Kungdu? He had said it would be months before he came this way again.

I stood up, rubbing my cheeks surreptitiously to make sure they were dry. "Mr. Allnutt..."

"Dear God, boy, I thought I'd find you dead! Or gone! Those goddamned vultures!" He glared up at the carrion-eaters, and then his arms were around me in a bear hug that was just short of painful, but I didn't protest. If I could feel him, then I knew I had to be alive. Unlike Brother...

Abruptly he set me away from him. "Er...sorry, little Rev. I was just so glad to see you."

"It's nice to see you too, Mr. Allnutt," I said politely. "Would you care for some soup? I made it for Brother but..."

"Where is the Reverend, little Rev? I thought sure he'd be urging hellfire down on the Huns."

"He...he's dead, Mr. Allnutt."

"Ah, now that's a shame! If the Germans would shoot a man of God..."

"They didn't shoot him, although it would have been kinder. They...they did something unspeakable to him, Mr. Allnutt!"

"And you, boy? Did they hurt you too?" he demanded harshly, his fingers reaching out to touch the darkened patch of hair just behind my ear.

"Oh, no. I was knocked out when they threw me against the wall, but...I'm all right."

He rubbed the moisture on his fingers together. "This is blood, little Rev. And if I'm not mistaken, it's fresh: you've opened that wound again!"

"I did?" I asked stupidly, and would have sought to examine myself the spot that I only just realized was dully throbbing, but he held my hand down.

"Come into the kitchen, I want to see to that." Before I could protest, he dragged me behind him into the cottage. He came to a sudden halt as his eyes became accustomed to the subdued lighting. "What the fuck happened here?"

I could feel a blush on my cheeks at his language. "Brother tried to stop the Germans from taking our men, and they ransacked the cottage."

He paused in the doorway of Brother's room. "How long has he been dead?"

I rubbed my forehead, a headache starting to build there. "Early this morning, I think."

"We're going to have to get him buried soon. It ain't healthy to leave him in this heat."

"I know. I was going to look for a shovel in a little while..."

"When was the last time you ate?"

I couldn't remember, and just looked at him blankly.

He poked in the pot with the chicken in it, and found a bowl. "Here," he said, filling the bowl to the brim. "Get this inside you."

The odor of the boiled chicken caused my stomach to roil, but once I had taken a few sips, I began to feel better.

Mr. Allnutt found a clean rag and used some of the water I had boiled. He hushed me when I would have objected and carefully blotted the blood from my scalp. I thought his fingers lingered rather long in my hair, but when I glanced up he seemed lost in thought.

"I'll find that shovel, little Rev, and get started on digging a grave." He frowned at my wince, but continued. "When you finish that soup, I want you to pack up whatever you want to take with you."

"Take with me?" I repeated. "Where am I going?

"You're going with me. The Queen has enough supplies to last us until this war ends. You can't stay here alone. The Germans are sure to be back this way before too long, and a pretty boy like you... Well, let's just say you might not get off with just a scalp wound."

I felt myself turn pale. I might not be very clever, but I understood what he meant. When I had regained consciousness, my clothing had been a trifle disheveled. I was in no physical distress, however, and I knew I hadn't been used in any manner.

Imagining the soldiers ripping off my trousers and burying themselves, one after the other in my body, of them coming in my mouth as they had with Brother, left me shuddering with revulsion.

I nodded to let Mr. Allnutt know I would obey his orders, and he hurried out to the lean-to next to the cottage. As I drank the last of my soup, I saw him striding across to the tiny cemetery behind the First Methodist Church of Kungdu. Shortly after, I could hear the shovel slicing through the soil.

I set the bowl down and went to my room. At the back of my closet, hidden in the shadows, was the carpetbag that had held my belongings when we first traveled to Africa, and I pulled it out.

There wasn't much left that I could pack; the Germans had taken whatever they could easily find. However, there were some shirts and trousers and unmentionables, which had been overlooked somehow, and I folded them neatly and put them in the carpetbag.

I found the brolly, Brother's huge black umbrella, which he had brought from England, and which we never really had much use for in East Africa. I propped it next to the front door and went looking for the family bible, with his notes in the margin, and the family tree carefully kept up to date, right up to the last two entries, Samuel and myself.

It was in the table by his bed. Next to it was a small, unfamiliar volume of poetry. Pressed between its pages was a lock of golden hair. I stroked the cover thoughtfully, and then slipped it into Brother's coat pocket. I would see that it was buried with him.

Mr. Allnutt came in then, with a plank of wood. "I'm sorry, little Rev, but I'm going to need your help getting the Reverend out to the cemetery."

"Of course, Mr. Allnutt." I lay the coat over Brother's folded hands, and together the boat captain and I got him onto the plank and carried him out into the humid African afternoon.

As Mr. Allnutt shoveled the soil onto the earthly remains of my brother, I gazed down into the grave. "I am the Resurrection and the Light, sayeth the Lord. He that believeth in me...shall dwell with me throughout eternity."

We placed stones on his grave to prevent the scavengers from getting at him. Mr. Allnutt dusted off his hands and stepped back. "Do you have everything, little Rev?"

"One last thing!" I remembered and ran back into the cottage. It was under my pillow, where I always kept it, a scrap of worn, blue wool. I stuffed it into my bag and hauled it to the front door.

Mr. Allnutt had the brolly, and I nodded at him. "I'm ready, sir."

He put his arm around my shoulder and we walked down to the African Queen.

Part 4

"What happened to your crew, Mr. Allnutt?" I sat on the transom opposite him, nervously pleating the scrap of blue wool into an accordion, and then smoothing it out.

The boat captain swung his eyes from their constant scanning of the riverbank. He leaned his arm on the tiller, and his lips twisted. "The drums started talking about a day out from the mine." He caught my eyes, and I nodded, letting him know I understood his reference to jungle communication. "The Germans was burning villages and taking the men to make them soldiers."

"But why?"

"I guess their plan is to take over all of Africa."

"England will not permit that!"

He grinned and went back to examining the bank. "By the time we got to the mine, the boys was sweating and moaning and rolling their eyes. They took one look at the way the mine was all torn up, and they bolted for the jungle. Take the tiller, Mr. Sayer."

"I don't know how to steer, Mr. Allnutt!"

"I reckon it's time you leaned, little Rev."

He held the tiller until I was able to slide across the seat and grasp it. When he let it go, I could feel the tug of the current, fighting to shift the rudder to another direction. Didn't Mr. Allnutt realize I had no idea how to do this? I'd never be able to control the African Queen, not even for the barest of moments.

But he didn't seem in the least concerned. He made his way to the front of the boat and found what he was looking for. "A little to starboard, Mr. Sayer."

I froze. I didn't know which way starboard was.

"Starboard, little Rev."

I drew a deep breath and put my weight behind the tiller, causing the boat to turn.

"No, the other way." His tone was so calm. Brother would have been tearing a stripe from me, never raising his voice that was true, but slicing me to bits, nevertheless.

"Sorry, sir," I whispered. He glanced at me sharply, and I dropped my gaze, unable to meet the disgust that was sure to be in his.

Mr. Allnutt reached for a line and tied off on a stout tree branch that hung low over the water. "Little Rev." He waited until I looked up at him. "It will take some time for you to get used to the terminology of this boat, and the river. We ain't going nowhere. You'll learn."

"I will?" I asked hopefully. He walked back to where I was sitting. With a sigh, he dropped down onto a box that was stacked by the side.

"Sure thing, little Rev. Easy does it." The captain smiled warmly at me while he searched his pockets for a cigarette. He found one and lit it. "Well, so far, so good."

"Where do we go from here?" I asked.

He considered our situation thoughtfully. "We'll just find a nice little island to hide behind and take stock of our situation. We've got lots of tinned grub, two thousand cigarettes, and two cases of gin, so we're all right that way."

I curled my lip at the thought of the liquor. "It's horrible tasting stuff, Mr. Allnutt. Brother always said so!" I hastened to add.

He ruffled my hair. That was the first time in longer than I could remember that he had touched me. "Well, Mr. Sayer, it's mother's milk to me! Might I interest you in a sip or two?"

My mouth dropped open. "No thank you, sir!" Mr. Allnutt leaned toward me, and for an instant I thought he was about to kiss me, but he just reached past me and slid a noose over the tiller to hold it in place. I shook my head. What a ridiculous idea! "Will the Germans come looking for us?" I asked, feeling a trifle lost.

He regarded the glowing tip of his cigarette. "I'm afraid so, Mr. Sayer." He saw the confusion in my eyes. "Oh, not because they want a gin-soaked river rat like me, or even a pretty boy like you." His calloused fingertips touched the curve of my cheek. "They're going to want the African Queen, and what she's carrying." Mr. Allnutt tapped his heel against the box he sat on. "Blasting gelatin." He pointed to torpedo-like shapes scattered over the deck. "Cylinders of oxygen, hydrogen."

"Blasting gelatin? Isn't that dangerous?" I swallowed hard, not so much from fear of being blown up as by his nearness, of his thigh so close to mine. I shifted restlessly.

"Lord love you, little Rev, it's not dangerous! You can bang it with a hammer, drop it, and even heave it against a wall. It won't do anything without a detonator to set it off!"

"If you say so, Mr. Allnutt." Exhaustion was starting to creep over me. "Might I have a cup of tea? We do have tea, don't we?" How foolish to panic over something as inconsequential as a tin of dried leaves.

"Sure thing, Mr. Sayer. And it might be a good idea if I fixed us something to eat as well. I don't imagine that soup is going to hold you for long." He opened the grate and banked the logs that fired the Queen's engine.

"Would you mind if I freshened up a bit, Mr. Allnutt?"

"Huh? Oh sure, little Rev. This is a safe enough spot. No crocodiles, no hippos. You can strip down and have a dip."

Strip down? In front of another man? Brother always made sure we had plenty of privacy when we bathed. I glanced uneasily at the captain, but he was filling a small kettle with water and setting it on to boil.

I removed my jacket, folded it neatly and placed it on the transom. I undid my collar and sighed in relief.

"That's a nasty mark you've got there, little Rev." I jumped as Mr. Allnutt encircled my throat. When had he come up behind me?

"This is the only collar I have. It's a little small, and it leaves a red welt, but it really isn't painful."

"If it's too small, why do you wear it?"

"Well...well...It's the only one I have," I repeated, at a loss.

"Let me see that." I handed it to him, and he turned it over and over in his hands. Then he tossed it into the river. I gave a cry of protest, and actually would have gone overboard after it. He wound his hands in my shirtfront and pulled me close to him. His smoke-scented breath washed over my face. "I don't need you passing out from heat prostration, little Rev!" His fingers flexed, and then he released me. "Now cool off, and I'll have your tea ready for you when you're done."

I stumbled backwards and sat down heavily. I stared in dismay at my lap, where the bulge of my arousal was quite evident. I bounced up and spun around so it wouldn't be seen, then took off my shirt and trousers.

Without looking behind me, I slid over the side of the Queen, still wearing my unmentionables. The coolness of the water was refreshing, and I released the side of the boat and went completely under. A lazy kick brought me back to the surface, and a flick of my head sent a shower of water from my hair. I swam from one side of the boat to the other, tumbling and rolling beneath the stern.

"Little Rev, time to come out. Your tea's getting cold."

"Yes, Mr. Allnutt." I reached for the side of the boat, but I had exhausted myself playing in the water and couldn't pull myself up. "I need some help, please, sir," I called breathlessly.

He leaned over and extended a hand, which I took gratefully, and he pulled me up. I got a leg over the side and stood dripping before him. "Well, now," he murmured as he examined me. "What was this in aid of, young Mr. Sayer?"

"Beg pardon?"

"These clothes. If you kept them on for modesty's sake, they're falling short of their purpose I'd say: they're almost transparent!"

I looked down and blushed as I saw the shadow at my groin, and the outline of my shaft. "Oh...!"

Mr. Allnutt chuckled and threw me a towel. I scurried to the back of the boat and stared at myself in consternation as I realized I'd have to remove my under garments in order to get dry. I bit my lip and glanced anxiously over my shoulder, but the captain was busy at the front of the boat.

I dropped the towel, and as quickly as I could, stripped off my unmentionables. The sound of a throat being cleared drew my attention. I snatched up the towel and whirled and held it in front of me like a shield.

"Is it safe to look, little Rev?"

My skin felt as if it was on fire, and I could have wept. He thought me a child! I swallowed around the lump that had lodged itself in my throat. "Just one more moment, please?" I scrambled into my trousers and did up all the buttons save the top two. "All right, Mr. Allnutt. I'm decent."

"I always did think you were decent, little Rev." He turned just as I was putting on my shirt, and his mouth dropped open.

"Is something wrong, sir?" I asked uncomfortably. My fingers seemed to be all thumbs, and I couldn't get the shirt buttoned.

"Here." The captain closed my hand around the tin cup that held my tea, and began the task of sliding the buttons into the buttonholes. The backs of his fingers somehow brushed against the light sprinkling of hair that dusted my chest. I trembled and grew hard. "Are you getting cold, little Rev?"

"N...no, sir. I must just be tired."

To my astonishment, he tucked the shirt into my trousers.

To my embarrassment, this time his fingers touched more than hair.

My face flaming, I tried to pull away from him, but he refused to release me. "It's all right, little Rev. Bodies is strange things, sometimes."

And then he did let me go.

"Right now, I think I'd better get you fed." And he led me to the front of the boat and pressed a plate into my hands.

Part 5

The African night descended with its usual abruptness. One minute we were eating dinner in the glaring sun, and the next we were surrounded by pitch black. There was no twilight.

I sat there with the fork halfway to my mouth, frozen in the darkness, observing the glittering specks of light on the black velvet backdrop of the night sky.

"It's huge, isn't it?" I asked in a reverent tone.

"What's huge, Mr. Sayer?" Mr. Allnutt asked as he struck a match and lit a lantern.

"The sky. When you live in the city, you don't realize how very immense it is. Even in Kungdu, it didn't look like this. It's hard to encompass its vastness."

"Didn't you ever spend the night in the open, little Rev?"

"Brother did not approve," I hedged.

"And you always did as your brother ordered?"

I peeked at him through my lashes. "Well..."

He gave a bark of laughter and cuffed me lightly on my arm. "You disobeyed him? You young puppy!"

"You won't tell on me, will you?" And then realization hit home. There was no one to tell. No one to care whether I stayed or went. I was truly alone in the world!

"What's wrong, little Rev?"

I set down my plate and fork. "Nothing, Mr. Allnutt. I think I'd like to go to bed now, if it's all right with you?"

"There's some blankets in the storage compartment. Spread them out on the deck and roll yourself up in them. Nights are cool on the river."

Mr. Allnutt gathered up the utensils and dropped them into a basin he had filled with water.

I hurried to the back of the boat and found the blankets. After I had them smoothed on the deck, I knelt down and folded my hands together. "Heavenly Father, bless Brother, who this day has come to stand before Your throne. He was a good and holy man, and if he was harsh with me, it was only because I am so stupid, and he had to beat the knowledge of Your word into me.

"Bless Nanny, who loved me. Bless Mama and Papa, who gave me life. And bless Mr. Allnutt, who has saved me from the Germans. And forgive me my wicked thoughts about him," I added in a subdued whisper. I tried to remember whom else I should mention in my prayers, but I was so tired I could barely think, so I concluded with a hasty, "Guide England to her hour of triumph in defeating the Huns. Amen."

I lay down and pulled one of the blankets over my shoulders, curling in on myself. I took the scrap of wool from my pocket and rested my head on it. It brought me comfort, that last remnant of my childhood, and I snuggled my cheek against it. Between one breath and another I was sound asleep.

****

I was so cold. I had never, *ever* been this cold before in my life. Massive shudders wracked my body and I hugged my arms around myself, but it didn't help. I couldn't get warm. My teeth began to chatter, and I shivered so hard I thought my bones would shatter. I ached with the cold.

And then someone came to me and draped a comforter over me, and tucked it snugly around my shoulders. "Nanny?" I murmured sleepily.

"Shhh," a low voice said. Gradually, my body stopped shuddering, and I was enveloped by a luxurious heat.

But how odd that the comforter should feel like arms holding me tight, keeping me safe.

****

The early morning sun teased at my eyelids, and I stretched hugely, feeling my joints give a satisfying pop. The blankets were tangled around my legs, and I reached down to yank them over my shoulders again. Like being doused with ice water, the realization came to me that I wasn't in my own bed, in my own room at the mission.

A gentle rocking under me recalled my circumstances. German soldiers had destroyed the village, Brother was dead, and I was on the Ulanga, on the African Queen with her captain, Mr. Allnutt.

Rasping breathing disturbed the silence of the dawn, and then a quiet moan. Was Mr. Allnutt injured, in pain?

Cautiously, I raised my head and peered around, to see the Queen's captain standing by the side of the boat. His trousers were loose around his hips and his body was bowed. He groaned again, and shifted slightly, and I could see his hand wrapped firmly around his softening shaft. His eyes were closed, and clenched in one fist were some articles of clothing.

I reached down surreptitiously to give my own hard prick a quick rub. It would not do to pleasure myself. Brother had beaten me nearly unconscious the one time he had caught me at that unholy act.

My head sank down onto the small piece of blanket that acted as my pillow, and I held myself still. After what seemed like forever, I heard the rustling of clothing.

"Awake yet, young Mr. Sayer?" Mr. Allnutt asked.

I risked a quick glance, to find his trousers snug around his hips and his hands busy stringing a line between two of the supports of the Queen's canopy. "Shall I start the tea, sir?"

He grinned. Although his back was to me, I could hear it in his voice. "You do love your tea, don't you, little Rev? I've already got the water boiling. I just wanted to hang up your unmentionables. Your bare skin might not be able to tolerate the roughness of your shirt and trousers."

My shaft quivered at his words, and the image of being bare. It occurred to me that the clothing he held while he pleasured himself were my undergarments, and I licked my lips nervously.

I got up, folding the blankets and storing them away for the day. The little blue square disappeared into my pocket.

I opened a can of some kind of meat and beans with the big knife that had been embedded on the boat's railing, and poured its contents into a pot. It looked revolting, but it smelled heavenly. While it heated, I put some hardtack on our plates and poured boiling water over the tealeaves.

"What will we do, Mr. Allnutt?"

"Just sit here and catch our breaths for a bit, I reckon, Mr. Sayer."

"No, I meant, what will England do? We can't permit Germany to seize all of Africa."

He scratched the stubble that covered his jaw and spooned out a portion of the mixture onto my plate and handed it to me. "Well, little Rev, if the British come from the sea, up by railway to Limbasi, the Germans will be between them and us." He filled his own plate and began to eat. "They can't come up from the Congo; they'd still be hacking through the undergrowth when the war was ended. And even if they wanted to, they'd have to cross the Lake. Which they can't do."

I took a cautious sip of the tea, not wanting to burn my mouth. "Why can't they do that, Mr. Allnutt?"

"The Louisa!"

"Beg pardon?"

"The Louisa," he repeated. "She's the boss of that Lake, a hundred tons of sheer nastiness!"

"A hundred tons? How did the Germans get her to an inland lake in Africa?"

"They carried her overland in sections and put her together on that Lake. Nothing can get past her!"

"Why? Most anything can be gotten around." I broke off a piece of hardtack and used it to scoop up some of the meat and beans.

"Ah, little Rev, the Louisa has a little something extra: a six pounder!"

My eyes grew wide. "Oh my!" I chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.

"What's going on behind those blue eyes of yours, Mr. Sayer?"

I took a deep breath. "England will need all of her sons. I have to do something. I can't spend the war safe in some backwater! If I skirt Limbasi and go further south, I can pick up the railway and meet up with the troops where they come ashore."

There was a clatter as Mr. Allnutt dropped his plate. "Of all the damn fool ideas! You can't do that! You're just a boy! Those Germans'll catch you and eat you for breakfast!"

"Mr. Allnutt, those Germans pose a threat to my country. And they killed my brother. You're supposed to do something, when something like that happens. It doesn't matter that Brother didn't care much for me. He was still my blood, my kin."

"And what are you going to do? Get a gun and kill them? Have you ever fired a rifle? Have you ever seen anyone killed, up close? Blood and flesh explode, and believe me, little Rev, it ain't pretty. The man you shot collapses like a rag doll, his muscles useless. His trousers will be soiled, because he'll piss and shit himself. If he's eaten within the last hour he'll vomit it up!"

I felt myself go pale, and my stomach began to churn at the graphic pictures Mr. Allnutt was painting. He reached across the space of deck that separated us and hauled me close to him. I could smell the scent of his semen, where some of it had gotten on his trousers. Distracted, I wanted to curl into his body and lose myself in it. I wanted to lick a path from his jaw to his mouth.

But I was an Englishman, and I pulled myself back to reality. I would die defending my country if I must.

As if reading my mind, Mr. Allnutt gave me a shake and growled, "War ain't glory and honor, boy! It's dying, hard and in pain, and a long, long way from home!"

"I have to do something!" I cried, hating the way he called me boy.

"Oh, yeah?" He got to his feet and strode to the front of the boat. Next to the engine that powered the Queen, there was a metal box. He reached into it and pulled out a sheaf of drawings, thumbing through them. When he found what he was searching for, he thrust the page at me. "Here's us!" His finger stabbed at a spot on the map. "Here's where the British will be! And here's where the Germans are! What do you suggest we do?"

I stared at the huge area that belonged to the Huns, and I swallowed. And then I leaned forward and examined the map more carefully. I glanced at the supplies scattered across the deck of the boat, and then back at the map. I looked at the Ulanga, which flowed past us with the calm dignity of a grande dame, and looked one final time at the map.

"What I suggest, Mr. Allnutt, is that we take this boat down to the Lake, and blow up the Louisa!"

Part 6

When he realized I was dead serious about taking the Queen down the Ulanga and finding some way to sink the Louisa, Mr. Allnutt turned pale.

"We can't do that!"

"Why not?" I asked reasonably.

"Because...because...Well, for one thing, it ain't never been done!"

"Beg pardon? I know I'm not bright, but someone had to go down to that Lake from the Ulanga, or this map would never have been made."

"Oh, sure, this German, name of Spengler. He did it in a dugout canoe with half a dozen Swahili paddlers. But taking the African Queen is out of the question!"

"Why?"

"Well...Well..." His eyes began to look desperate. "Well, first off there's Shona!"

I looked at him blankly.

"The German's have a fort there overlooking the river. They ain't going to let us go cruising past without taking a shot at us! And if *they* don't succeed in blowing us out of the water, there's the rapids! A hundred miles of white water so violent there ain't nothing I can think of to compare it with. Your crack-brained scheme is going to see us dead, Mr. Sayer!"

I had been watching him the whole time he paced from the bow of the Queen to the stern, and back again, mesmerized by the easy roll of his gait that accommodated the shift and glide of the boat beneath his feet.

"So what you're saying is that you won't help your country in her hour of need. I see." I dragged my gaze to the bank of the river, searching for a place to tie up.

"I wouldn't put it that way, little Rev," he said uneasily.

"How would you put it then?" The cross currents slowed the forward movement of the boat.

He looked from the bank to me, distracted. " It's just...it can't be done, and that's all there is to it!"

"How do you know it can't be done, if you've never tried?"

"I ain't never tried shooting myself in the head, neither! Why are you putting in to shore? We've got plenty of daylight left."

"There's no point in going on, is there? I'll get off here and make my way back to Kungdu, and then head south until I reach Limbasi." I slipped the noose over the tiller and stood to gather my things. "Perhaps I'll see you when the war is over. Good-bye, Mr. Allnutt."

I was a civilized Englishman. I would not let my disappointment in the man I had thought such a giant among men prevent me from observing proper etiquette. I extended my hand, intending to wish him good luck.

He slapped my hand away. "You're going to hold that over my head, aren't you? Every time I do something you don't approve of, you're going to threaten me with marching off to war. Well, I won't *fucking* allow it!"

I was so shocked by his deliberate crudity that I didn't realize his grammar had suddenly improved beyond recognizing. "I beg your pardon?" I drew myself up to my full height. Mr. Allnutt and I were not quite eye to eye.

"Don't you give me that snippy tone of voice, you skinny, psalm-singing little bugger!" I cringed at his anger, but before I could be hurt by the vulgar epithet, he was barreling on, his finger stabbing at my chest with each word. "I'm responsible for your miserable hide, and I'm not going to let you march off to face the Huns! *I* did that once, went off to go a-soldiering for God and country. I won't let you do it! I won't let you make the same mistake I made!"

Stunned, I gave way before his furious approach. "I...I don't understand..."

His hands were wrapped in the front of my shirt, and he hauled me up until I was on my toes. His breath fanned my face, and I blinked and swallowed. "I know the kind of things a boy like you reads. The Charge of the Light Brigade and 'half a league onward rode the gallant six hundred!' The Three Musketeers and 'one for all and all for one!' Gunga Din: 'You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!' Your head is so filled with that glory bullshit that you don't realize a dead hero is just as dead as an ordinary man!"

"You've seen it, what a body looks like when it's been shot to pieces, to describe it so vividly." My eyes were riveted to his mouth.

"Seen it, hell," he spat out. "I've done it! I've raised my rifle and...and shot the ... the enemy through the heart." He released me and turned away, his hands scrubbing his face. "He was so surprised. A little Afrikaner, not much older than you..."

I let my carpetbag drop to the deck and cautiously went to him, my hand raised to touch him. It hovered just above his shoulder, and I stood there, uncertain of how to offer him comfort, and then I let it fall and backed away. "That wouldn't happen to me, you know."

He gave a bark of laughter that had no humor in it. "Yeah, I'll bet that boy thought the same thing. Right up until he drew his very last breath in my arms. Ah, fuck it. Get us back into the current. We'll go on down the river, and if we make it past Shona in one piece, we'll see where we go from there."

****

The tension between us seemed to grow like Jack's beanstalk. For the first time since he had taken me away from Kungdu, Mr. Allnutt began to drink. He cracked open a bottle of gin and gulped such a large mouthful that he coughed and his eyes teared up.

I sat in the stern of the boat, not saying anything. If it had been Brother, I would have been beaten within an inch of my life. The captain just kept tipping back that bottle.

"Er, you aren't planning on getting drunk, are you, Mr. Allnutt?"

"What's it to you, boy? Afraid I won't get you down river?"

I was hurt by his tone of voice. I was used to it from Brother, but Mr. Allnutt had always spoken kindly to me, and now that he no longer was, I felt as if I had been abandoned. I sniffed and pointedly looked away.

And caught my breath. "I truly hope you aren't drunk, Mr. Allnutt. I think we may have a problem!"

"What..." he started to sneer, and then his eyes followed mine. "Oh, goddammit to hell in a handbasket!"

"Mr. Allnutt!"

"Sorry, little Rev. We've got bigger problems that upsetting the Almighty."

"There are no bigger problems!"

"Now you're starting to sound like that brother of yours!"

"Oh!" I huffed.

"Shove over, little Rev! We got white water dead ahead!"

I scooted out of the way, and Mr. Allnutt took over the tiller. My mouth was dry with fear. Ahead of us I could see the Ulanga swirling around rocks and terraces in the riverbed. It began as a low, persistent growl, and rose to a thunderous roar. I closed my eyes.

Somehow that made it worse, and as we went over the first of the rapids, my eyes flew open. The African Queen swung first to the left, then to the right, and all the while, Mr. Allnutt struggled with the tiller, trying to keep her from the worst of the rocks.

Nanny took me to a street fair once. I wanted to ride a pony in the worst way, but she wouldn't permit it. While she was distracted by a vendor selling sweetmeats, I slipped away and went back to the deceptively docile creature. I climbed onto the shaggy beast's back and tapped his sides with my heels.

What I didn't know was that the pony was only half-broken. He took exception to my weight on his back, and began to buck and sunfish. I had held on with both hands, and my initial fear vanished. I was laughing giddily when his master was finally able to get his hand on the pony's halter and yank me off. He swatted my seat, and Nanny beat him about the head with her brolly for laying a hand on me.

Muttering under her breath about the nerve of some people the entire way, she dragged me home. And once there she gave me a hiding I never forgot.

But I rode that pony.

I felt it now, the excitement of riding the uncontrolled river as the Queen bucked and sunfished through the white water. She dipped low, and shipped water, then rose high and skittered forward. Mr. Allnutt was swearing steadily as he wrestled with the tiller and forced the boat to obey him.

One last, vicious twist, and then the African Queen surrendered and slid into the quiet water, leaving the rapids behind.

"You all right, little Rev?"

"I'm...I never dreamed...!"

"Well, you won't want to go ahead then, will you?"

"Oh no, I want to go on! It's..." I stared down at my lap, where my trousers had tented over an erection so hard it was painful. "Mr...Mr. Allnutt, what's wrong with me?"

"What...?" He watched as I rubbed myself. The sin of Onan, according to my brother, was almost as unforgivable as the sin of Sodom, but I *ached*! The need to touch myself was overpowering, and I ripped at the buttons of my trousers to get at my weeping flesh, uncaring that this action put me beyond the pale, that the captain would no longer have a jot of respect for me.

I was almost weeping myself, from the surge of adrenaline that seethed through me. Mr. Allnutt's hard, blunt fingers brushed my hands out of the way, and I cried out in protest. And then his arm was around me, drawing me into his embrace, and *he* was holding my prick, stroking it, coating it with the fluid that oozed from the tip. The strokes were hard and sure, and I shuddered and thrust mindlessly into his hand.

"More. Please, more!" I babbled as I struggled to get closer to him. I licked and suckled at his throat as he drove me higher, not easing me, making the desire worse. My hips rocked forward, demanding release.

He murmured in my ear, and thrust his tongue into it, and with a silent gasp I began to spill myself into his hand. Long delicious minutes passed, and I lay bonelessly in his arms, nuzzling against him.

"That was wonderful!" I sighed.

"Are you all right now, little Rev?" He was rubbing soothing circles on my back.

"Yes, I'm...Oh, God. Oh, dear God. What have I done?" I could feel my face flame with mortification. I backed away from him, watching his face fearfully. "I'm sor-sorry, Mr. Allnutt. I don't know what came over me! Brother will..."

"Brother won't do anything, little Rev. Not ever again. What happened to you was a natural reaction to excitement. Running the rapids for the first time has that effect on a body. It isn't a sin."

"It does? It's not? But you didn't react the same way." I gestured down to indicate my now flaccid prick, and blushed as I realized it was still resting outside my trousers. Hastily I tucked myself away and did up the buttons.

"You think not?" He took my hand and pressed it against him. I traced the shape of his shaft beneath the material of his pants with wonder. It was hard. And hot. "You're a quiet lover, little Rev. Why did you learn to be so quiet?" His fingers threaded through my hair, tugging it gently until I was looking into his eyes. "Your brother?"

I nodded, my color running high again. "He caught me once. After that, I made sure he never caught me again."

"The next time, I want to hear how much you enjoy what I do to you."

"The next time? There's going to be a next time?"

His mouth found mine and he was kissing me. "Count on it, little Rev!"

Part 7

The spot Mr. Allnutt had selected to tie up for the night was ideal. The bank dropped sharply to the river, water was deep, and the current ran swift, not suitable at all for the crocodiles that habituated this part of Africa.

I looked over the side, my fingers languidly unbuttoning my shirt as I wondered how edible the fish in this stretch of the Ulanga might be. I dropped my shirt to the deck and began to work on my trousers. "Care to join me, Mr. Allnutt?" I asked, my trousers gaping just enough for him to see that I wore no undergarments.

A flush mounted his cheeks. "Not just yet, young Mr. Sayer. Why don't you take the stern?"

"Won't you be swimming?" I ran my tongue over my lips, trying to hint at what I'd really like him to be doing.

"Er, I'll swim up here by the bow!"

In spite of the late afternoon heat, I felt chilled. Had I misinterpreted his words after he had helped me achieve release after that first set of rapids?

This time I made sure I was able to get out of the water without any assistance, and I quickly dried off and drew on my last set of clean clothes. I'd need to do some laundry, but that would have to wait until we got past Shona.

"Dinner's ready, little Rev," Mr. Allnutt called. He looked up at the evening sky. "We'd better eat quickly. Looks like we may be in for some rain."

"I'm...I've no appetite tonight, sir. I'll just turn in now, if you have no objections?"

"Well...well, sure. Say, do you feel all right? You're not sickening for anything, are you, little Rev?" Did he sound concerned, or was that just wishful thinking on my part?

"No, I'm quite fine, thank you, sir. Just a little tired."

"Well...good night then."

"Night, sir." I laid the blankets out under the canopy. If we did get rain, it would keep us a bit drier.

Night fell with its usual abruptness. I rolled into my blankets, while the captain of the African Queen made sure she was secured for the night.

I was positive I'd never fall asleep. So much had happened that day, culminating in that wild ride down the rapids which had left me so painfully excited that I would have exploded if Mr. Allnutt had not literally taken me in hand and brought me to climax.

And then that kiss, the first time I had ever been kissed on the mouth. I was so certain that from now on I would belong to him. But I must have misunderstood him, because he hadn't touched me once since he had given me back the tiller.

I settled myself into my makeshift bed, and tumbled headlong into sleep.

The sound of rain pattering on the canopy brought me to the edge of wakefulness. I shivered in the cool air and pulled the blanket over my shoulders.

The next time I came fully awake, I was so violently aroused that I moaned aloud. My nipples were stiffened and aching, the material of my shirt replaced by calloused, teasing fingers that plucked and tormented.

A rain-laden breeze washed over my skin, and I realized I was naked. I should have been shaking from the drop in temperature, but I was deliciously warm. Something slick rocked between the cheeks of my ass, nudging past my balls and gliding upward against my straining shaft.

"Sorry, little Rev. I wanted to give you some time to get used to the idea of having me as your lover, but I just can't wait! I won't hurt you, I promise, but I just have to have a taste of you tonight!"

"Yes!" I moaned.

His hair-roughened thigh rested over my hip, keeping my legs from shifting restlessly, and he continued to slide though the passage he had created. While one hand seemed content to toy with my nipples, the other smoothed down past my torso to dip into my navel. Moving on, it tugged gently at the hair that covered my groin. It touched me everywhere but where I needed most to be touched.

"Please," I begged.

Mr. Allnutt licked a path from my adam's apple to the skin just behind my ear and bit down. At the same time he finally took my weeping shaft in his hand and caressed it with firm strokes. I shuddered and writhed under him, reaching back to press his head firmly to my flesh.

He suckled and fondled and occasionally would rub the tip of his prick against my opening, driving me to buck into his snug grasp. "Moan for me, little Rev!" he whispered, his breath hot in my ear.

"I can't..." I tried to wriggle closer and felt the tantalizing tickle of hair against my ass.

"Let me hear you!"

"What?" His words distracted me, and he pulled away. Before I could plead with him to touch me, stroke me, fuck me, the tip of his slickened finger breached my hole and slid in, curving and crossing something that made me howl.

I climaxed.

"That's it, little Rev! Sing for me!" And with a muffled groan, he began to come, spattering the underside of my prick, my chest, my chin with the hot essence of life, mingling with mine.

Humming with weary pleasure, he pulled the blanket over the two of us, and the sound of the rain lulled us back to sleep.

****

I awoke, marveling over the graphic dream of the night before. Instead of feeling ashamed, however, as had often happened at the mission, I felt energized. Of course, it wouldn't do to have Mr. Allnutt discover what a principal part he had played in my fantasies, but if there was one thing I had learned from Brother, it was that if you looked innocent, people tended to think you were. I grinned and rolled over.

And found myself nose to chest, *naked* chest, with the Queen's captain.

My own chest was covered with the residue of the night's passion. It was uncomfortable, dry and itchy.

Mr. Allnutt mumbled in his sleep and settled his hand on my hip, pulling me into his embrace.

"Um, Mr. Allnutt..." I wasn't sure what I should call him. I had made love with the man the night before. The slight ache in my back passage told me I was not quite virgin any longer, although I remembered he hadn't actually put his prick inside me. "Dear?" I tentatively reached out to shake his shoulder.

His hands slid lower, filling with the curves of my ass, and he urged me closer to his erection. "It's early, sweetheart. You don't need to leave yet." His voice was gravely from sleep.

"If you say so..." I signed happily

Velvet brown eyes opened. They were first startled, and then wary. "Little Rev! Er, care for some breakfast?"

I nodded and he rose to his feet, making sure he had a blanket securely wrapped around himself. He fired the kettle, as he called the steam engine, and then ducked around it to get dressed. That confused me a little, as he had never seemed overly modest before, but I dismissed the thought and went over the side for a quick wash before we sat down to eat.

This morning, I was famished.

****

My lover got the African Queen backed out onto the river, and the current tugged us forward. "Um... Mr. Allnutt?"

"Don't you think you could call me by my first name, little Rev?" he asked forlornly.

"But you're older than I am, sir. It wouldn't be proper!"

He scowled at me. "I'm also the man who was a hair's breadth away from fucking you blind last night!"

I blushed. "But..."

"I think you should call me something other than 'Mr. Allnutt'!"

"But..."

"Don't you?"

"Very well, but I've been trying to tell you, Mr. Allnutt," I stated a little crossly. "I don't *know* your first name!"

He came back to where I sat at the tiller and pulled me up into his arms. "Charlie," he said as his lips wandered over my face. "My name is Charlie."

I sighed contentedly and offered him my mouth. "You can call me Rodney," I murmured.

He frowned. "No. That's what your brother called you."

"Well, Nanny used to call me Roddy."

"I kind of like little Rev," he told me.

"So do I." My fingertips explored the stubble that covered his cheeks, and he grinned.

"Looks like I'll need a shave. Later!" His head dipped down to kiss me again.

A sudden, loud ratchety sound jerked Mr. Allnutt...Charlie out of my arms. He scrambled to the bow where the engine of the African Queen was starting to shudder. Leaning back against the railing, he raised his legs and kicked out hard, raining a series of blows just below a valve.

The Queen was starting to drift too close to shore, and I reached for the tiller and steered her back toward the middle of the river. Charlie pulled his bandana out of his pocket and mopped his brow. "Well, that's getting dropped back to earth with a vengeance," he huffed.

"What happened, sir?"

"That? Oh, that's the speed pump; it's full of scum and rust. Kicking starts her to working again when she gets clogged up. I have to work fast, though: one of my boys dropped a screwdriver down the safety valve, and the whole boiler could blow up."

"Why not take it apart and remove the screwdriver, er... Charlie?"

He grinned at me, his hand smoothed over the railing. "One of these days I will, but I kind of like kicking her. She's all I got. All I *had*," he corrected himself, and his hand caressed my knee. "You *sure* you want to do this, little Rev?"

"You're not going back on your word, are you, Charlie?"

"Nooo, but I wanted to give you one last chance." He nodded over his shoulder and my eyes shot up.

There, perched high on a hill overlooking the Ulanga, was Shona.

Part 8

"All right, Roddy. Here we go!" He glanced up at the fort, and then back toward where I clung to the tiller. "Better get down, little Rev. *And keep your head down*!"

The Queen chugged around the last outcropping, and we were out in the open. Charlie crouched down by the engine, and I slid off the transom, fighting to keep the boat as close to the far shore as I could.

Voices drifted down from the fort, although we couldn't make out what they were saying. I peeked up over the side and saw a German officer gesture to one of his Askaris, and the black soldier stepped forward and took aim.

I ducked down and began praying. It must have worked, because the bullet went whistling harmlessly overhead.

By the tone of the shouts that followed that shot, the German officer was not happy. I risked another glance and saw the hauptmann strike the Askari across the face and yank the rifle out of his hands. He barked something at his underlieutenant, and a swarm of the black soldiers poured over a ridge.

The gunfire started, a constant roar that all but drowned out the sound of the Queen's engine. Chips of wood flew as bullets tore into the boxes of blasting gelatin, and I could see that Charlie was watching grimly, waiting to see if his words would be prophetic.

The gelatin did not explode.

But disaster struck in the shape of a bullet that knocked free the hose that channeled the steam to the gears that powered the Queen. A cacophony of sound beat down upon us; the whistle of the escaping steam, the staccato whine of ricochets, the slowing beat of the boat's engine. The hose whipped back and forth violently, and the boat rapidly lost her forward momentum.

Charlie swore viciously under his breath. "Keep you head down, little Rev. *Down*," he ordered. "We'll have to let her drift!" The Queen rolled and the river carried her along.

I bit back a cry of pain; a splinter of wood tore across the back of my arm and lodged just under the skin. I could feel the warm blood welling out and sank lower. I tucked my arm tight to my body so Charlie wouldn't see it.

He had more important things to worry about: the Queen's engine was being peppered by the bullets. The Germans supplied their colonial outposts with bolt-action weapons that had been the latest in technology during the Franco-Prussian War, almost forty-five years before. They were outdated now, but they could kill just as efficiently as their more modern counterparts.

Charlie's mouth was a white slash in his face. He looked at me as if he wanted to memorize my features, and then picked up a grease-stained rag. I could see him draw in a deep breath. He duck-walked to the engine, his body jerking with each bullet that struck his boat.

The soldiers saw a living target and went wild, shooting as fast as they could throw the bolt. As quickly as he could, my lover grabbed the end of the hose and shoved it into the nipple connector, wrapping the rag around it. One hand groped blindly for a roll of duct tape, and he secured the fastening with it.

The Queen's engine resumed its steady beat, and I sagged in relief. A flash of light caught my attention, and I twisted my head to watch the mountain fort as it slid behind us. The German captain flung down his rifle and rubbed at his eyes frantically.

"Told you we'd have an edge!" Charlie pitched his voice so that it rose above the sound of the African Queen as she chugged around the bend. "I bet that must have smarted!" He grinned evilly. "That Hun was wearing glasses and the glare of the sun caught him right in the eye!" He patted the side of the boat. "You're a good old girl, Queenie!"

"Why aren't I excited, the way I was yesterday, ...Charlie?" I was still a little hesitant to use his first name.

He hauled himself to the back of the boat and dropped down on the transom. "Yesterday the odds were better than even that we'd come out alive."

"And today?"

He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, which was streaked with sweat. "Today, they were better than even that we'd be dead before we got past Shona!"

I gulped and shivered convulsively. "I put your life at risk. I'm sorry."

Charlie took out a cigarette. "It's all right, little Rev. It ain't like I'm doing anything with it anyway!"

I tried to get to my feet, but my legs cramped and I whimpered as I landed on my injured arm. Charlie grinned at me and hooked an arm around my shoulder, giving me a boost up. That was when he saw my blood-soaked sleeve.

"Christ Jesus, boy! What have you done to yourself?"

"It's...it's just a splinter."

"Splinter my ass! That's a fucking tree trunk!" He took the sleeve in both hands and ripped it up my arm. I couldn't prevent a moan.


"Mr. Allnutt! Your language!" I tried to make a joke of it, but my lover was deadly serious. He took my chin in his hand and tipped my head up, leaning so close his breath fanned my lips.

"Fuck. My. Language. Sit still!" He took the piece of wood between his fingers. I held my breath as he gently exerted pressure and pulled it from under my skin. To keep from crying out, I bit down on my lip so hard it bled.

I felt lightheaded from the shaft of pain, but that was nothing compared to the burning fire when Charlie upended a bottle of gin on the gash. The tears that had flooded my eyes spilled over, and I gasped and tried to jerk my arm away from him. "You're hurting me!"

He scowled at me and took the tiller. "You'll be lucky if I don't do more than that! Stay put, and keep this on your arm!" He wadded up my torn sleeve and placed it over the wound. Steering us to the near bank, he tied the tiller, and walked forward to throttle down the engine and let out the anchor. Then he began rummaging for something in a storage compartment.

I mopped my face on my other sleeve and sniffed. "What are you going to do?"

He grunted in satisfaction when he found what he was looking for. He set the items aside and I watched in amazement as he thoroughly washed his hands.

"What are you going to do?" I repeated, more uneasily.

Charlie glared at me. As he picked up the objects and held them in one hand, the other tipped the remainder of the gin over them. After he tossed the empty bottle overboard, I finally got a glimpse of what he was holding.

I tried to scoot backwards, but there was nowhere else to go, other than into the river. "What are you...You're *not* going to do that to me! I'm not going to let you!"

"Oh, no? Well, think again, little Rev! If I don't stitch up this great gaping hole in your arm, it's going to fester and rot until it's hanging by a shred of flesh! Now hold out your goddamned arm and don't move a muscle!"

He was implacable. I obeyed his order and watched in morbid fascination as he threaded the needle. Another bottle of gin was to be sacrificed for the cause. He cracked it open and held it to my lips. "Drink!"

"I don't..."

"Drink it, little Rev, and for chrissakes, *don't* argue with me! This is going to hurt like hell." I could see the pain in his eyes, and realized what this was doing to my lover. I opened my lips and let him pour the fiery liquor down my throat.

I sputtered and gasped, and then cried out as more gin washed over my injury. He shoved the bottle into my other hand.

"You're going to need more of this. Drink it." The needle slid into the flesh at one side of the wound, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight of my lover competently tying the first of the stitches. I gulped down a mouthful of gin.

As neatly as a woman doing needlepoint, he sewed my arm closed. Finally, he nodded to himself. "That should do it. Do you have a clean handkerchief we can use as a bandage, Roddy?"

I nodded dumbly, then bolted for the side of the boat and hung over it as I emptied my insides into the river. When I was feeling a little better, I found Charlie waiting patiently to bind up his handiwork. He brushed my hair out of my eyes and ran his thumb under my lashes, catching a stray teardrop that clung to them.

He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked the drop off. My mouth dropped open, and he leaned forward and rubbed his thumb over my lips. Helplessly, I let him slip his finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, tasting blood and gin and salty tears. And under it all, Charlie.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Well, you were right. My arm does hurt like h...the devil."

"Lay down for a while. I'm going to get the Queen back on the river and we'll see if we can find somewhere safe to stay."

My head still felt a little foggy from the gin and the shock of having my flesh stitched. "Beg pardon? We'll just find someplace like we've been doing, and move on in the morning."

"I don't think so, little Rev. This is the end of the line. I ain't taking you any further down the river."

"But...but you *promised*!"

"And you could have died. I ain't about to let that happen. You're just a baby!"

"I'm not a baby! You can't keep me here! I'll go back to Limbasi..."

"Wanna bet? You're stuck here with me. And don't push me, boy! I ought to tan your hide until you can't sit for a week, putting yourself in harm's way like that." I tried to protest the injustice of that statement, but he ignored me. "I *still* might do just that if you give me any more bullshit about soldiering! You can't threaten me with going to Limbasi; we're too far away from it. You'll be walking until this fucking war ends before you get anywhere near there!"

"I don't care! If you won't take me to the Lake, then I'm going back..."

The rest of my words were cut off as the captain yanked me over his knee and began to spank me. I gave a yelp of outrage and began to struggle. The swats fell harder, and my ass began to grow warm and tingle. And I began to grow hard!

I had to get off his lap. I sank my teeth into the firm muscle of the thigh under my mouth.

With a roar, he leaped to his feet and I fell onto the deck, banging my head. He stood over me, his hands clenched into fists. "You little *bugger*!"

I grew pale. There wasn't much worse you could call an Englishman. "That's the second time you've called me that! I'm leaving in the morning!" I whispered hoarsely.

"Fine!" he snarled. "You want to leave, you can leave! First thing in the morning!" He strode to the front of the boat and pulled in the anchor, then fired the engine and backed the Queen out into the river. The current caught her and she moved forward.

He was going to let me go? He wasn't going to try to stop me? I put the length of the African Queen between us and stood watching the far bank, watching crocodiles slide into the water to attack some hapless prey.

"There was a bold fisherman, set sail from Port Pimlico..." A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the captain singing raucously, and nursing a bottle of gin.

And lined up on the transom next to him, were a half dozen bottles, awaiting his attention.

Part 9

When I had threatened my lover with walking all the way back to Limbasi if he broke his promise to take us down the Ulanga, he had simply agreed to let me go.

He wasn't going to try and stop me. I felt as if he had casually tossed my heart in the trash.

Mr. Allnutt spent the better part of the afternoon imbibing and singing. He grew tired of the Bold Fisherman, and began warbling off-color songs. His favorite seemed to be about a woman named Lulu, and his wonder of who was going to bang, bang her while he was out to sea.

I could have wept.

He finally picked a spot at random and put to shore. Even if the injury to my arm hadn't precluded it, I would not have been able to go for a swim; the current was rather lazy and it was shallow enough to encourage crocodiles to use the area as a hunting spot. Their bellows shattered the stillness of the evening as they warned competitors away.

I made a meager dinner. I wasn't really hungry, and Mr. Allnutt seemed more inclined to drink his.

I took my blankets and laid them down at the bow of the boat. It was difficult to fall asleep, and finally I resorted to caressing my cheek with the scrap of soft wool from my childhood.

****

Originally, it had belonged to Nanny. When Brother announced, shortly after the deaths of our parents, that we would not be needing her services any longer, she had volunteered to stay without pay, but he had ruthlessly dismissed her. I didn't dare voice an objection, but Nanny knew how devastated I was. I sat on her bed, watching with sad eyes and quivering lip, and rhythmically kicking the frame with my heel while she packed.

"Ah, young Master Roddy, don't take on so! It will be all right, pet. You'll see! And just so you know that Nanny will always be thinking of you, I want you to have this." 'This' was a small woolen afghan she had knitted to cover her legs in the winter.

"But you'll have nothing to keep you warm, Nanny!" A single tear escaped to slide down my cheek.

"I'll be going to my brother's, in the Midlands, pet, and believe me, I'll be plenty warm there. You keep this with you. Whenever you see it, or touch it you think of Nanny, and know that I'll be thinking of you right back."

"Will you write to me, Nanny?" I asked as she enveloped me in her soft embrace. She always smelled of lilacs.

"Of course, pet. Count on it."

****

But there was no 'of course' about it: she never did. When I asked Brother if there was any mail from her, he sniffed and said the ignorant woman could neither read nor write, and I'd better forget the notion of ever hearing from her again.

I had the little blanket, though. It shrank over the years; from the many times I had to wash it. And unbeknownst to Brother, it came with us to Africa, and brought me much comfort.

I folded it and placed it under my head, and tried to shut out the sound of my former lover getting riotously drunk.

It was a miserable night. I couldn't sleep from the throbbing pain of the stitches in my arm. And the pain in my heart.

Sometime during the night, however, I began to grow angry. It wasn't my fault! I hadn't deliberately set myself up to be injured by that piece of wood that had been splintered by an Askari bullet.

And I wasn't the one who broke his word! My temper grew shorter and shorter as the night wore on. The last chorus he sang proved to be the final straw.

I'm dirty and lousy and full of fleas,
Says Barnacle Bill the Sailor
I'll stick my mast in whom I please,
Says Barnacle Bill the Sailor
My flowing whiskers give me class,
The sea horses ate them instead of grass,
If they hurt your cheeks, they'll tickle your ass,
Says Barnacle Bill the Sailor.

I tossed aside my blanket and got to my feet. Charlie had slid into a deep, drunken sleep, snoring so loudly that if there were windows on the African Queen they would have been rattling. Cradling my injured arm, I searched for a tool I could use as a pry bar. I dragged the unopened case of gin next to the side of the Queen and sat down beside it.

By the time the sun rose, that case was empty, and bottles floated around the gently rocking African Queen. I decided I needed a break and brewed up a pot of tea. While it was steeping, I got the second case ready.

I had to favor my right arm, and that slowed me down, so there was still half a case left when Mr. Allnutt finally began rousing. I sipped my tea sedately as he groaned and rolled to his knees, swearing at the cries of the birds that sliced into his brain and damning the early morning rays of sunlight that pierced his eyes.

I waited until those bloodshot eyes were focused on me, and then made sure he was watching as I emptied the contents of the next bottle.

"Oh, little Rev!" he whimpered. I dropped the bottle into the river to join its mates, and reached for another one. "Oh, now that's plain cruel! Little Rev! Please, have a heart!"

There were just a couple of bottles left. I turned my nose up at him, ignoring his moans and pleas and tossed them into the Ulanga. He scrambled for the last one, diving forward to grab it, but there was nothing left in it. "Oh, little Rev! I needed that! What am I going to use as hair of the dog?"

He watched forlornly, and then with rising anger as he realized that there was no more gin left on board. "You had no right, Roddy! You had no right, at all! They didn't belong to you! Oh, my aching head!"

I picked up my cup of tea and stalked back to the stern. The family Bible was buried at the bottom of the carpetbag, and I retrieved it. I settled myself on the transom, brushed the hair out of my eyes, and opened the Book.

While Charlie grumbled, I started at Genesis, and began turning the pages, finding my favorite passages, which all dealt with sex.

When I caught a glimpse of clothing being tossed to the deck, I was sorely tempted to peek, but I was steadfast in my resolve to not give my lover the satisfaction. I licked my thumb and turned another page. The story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Of course, Brother would never approve, but I had long ago found all the passages that aroused my... interest.

In spite of my best intentions, the splash I heard had my head jerking up, but he was already in the water, and I couldn't see anything. I scowled down at the Bible, and carefully reached for my teacup.

There was a startled yelp, and Charlie came up over the side in a flurry of pale limbs. "Jesus, Roddy, you might have told me there was crocs in the water!"

I kept my head down and bit my lip to prevent a burst of laughter.

"Um, y'know, little Rev, I think I'll get the old Queen ship shape. She ain't had a good going over in donkey's years!"

I set the cup beside me and looked for another story. Ah yes, Lot and his daughters. Personally, I could not see wanting a child that badly.

The captain was climbing into his canvas trousers. I did not look. "It'd be nice if I had a set of clean clothes. Now you, little Rev, you get your washing done as soon as may be. No procrasti-whatsis for you!" Charlie kept up a spate of conversation while he worked on the African Queen, to which I purposely did not reply. "No, sir! You make sure the chores is all done and then you read your Bible. Say, uh, why don't you read one of them stories out loud, little Rev? My sainted mum used to do that when I was just a nipper."

I turned another page.

There was the steady scrape of blade over whiskers, and I wanted to look so badly. The silence stretched out.

"Would you like another cup of tea, Roddy? Yours must be cold by now."

Lick the thumb, turn the page.

"Damn it, you can't keep doing this to me, boy! It ain't natural! Talk to me!" He was breathing heavily. "You want an apology? All right, fine. I'm sorry I got drunk. I'm sorry I spanked you! You ain't a little boy, and I shouldn't have done that..."

"Is that why you think I did this? Because you spanked me?"

"Well, ain't it?"

"Mr. Allnutt, what you did to me was *nothing* compared to what Brother has done!"

"Then why...?"

I finally looked up at him. And felt my mouth drop. With the salt and pepper stubble on his cheeks and chin removed, he looked much younger. And even more irresistible.

"You went back on your word! You promised to take me down to the Bora, and now you're not! And you called me a nasty name. Twice!"

"Shit. Shit. Shit. I'm sorry, little Rev. I didn't mean nothing by it. I've led a rough life, and I ain't used to watching my tongue. And I was so scared!" Trust him to zero in on what hurt me the most. "And breaking my promise, well, hell! I was just trying to keep you alive! And you got even real good, Roddy, throwing away all my gin! Jesus God, boy, you're a pisser!" He took a deep breath. "All right, fine. I'll take you down to the Bora, we'll go on to the lake, and we'll blow up the Louisa. I ain't got no idea how, but I'm sure something will come to me!"

I wanted to throw myself into his arms, but I didn't know if he wanted me any more. "Truly, Mr. Allnutt? Truly? We'll go down to the Lake?"

"I thought I was 'Charlie'." He came to me and drew me to me feet. Being careful of my arm, he held me close. The warmth of his breath as he sighed ruffled my hair.

"My Charlie." I let my lips wander over his smooth cheek, intrigued by the new texture. I remembered something else, and tried to pull away. "You were going to make me leave!"

His arms tightened. "I'm sorry. I was just so scared," he repeated. "You were bleeding, and all I could think was that I could have lost you...And I wasn't about to let you leave. I ain't never going to let you leave! Once I sobered up, I intended to talk you into staying with me."

"You really were? You're not just telling me that?" I snuggled into his arms. "And now?"

"Now?" I could feel his smile against the corner of my mouth. "Now I guess you've talked me into going with you. Just...don't leave me."

"That's why I got rid of the gin," I confessed. "I was so hurt you'd call me such a horrid name. And then you were going to let me walk away!"

"That's why?"

I nodded. "I wanted to hurt you the worst way I could think of. Brother could have told you what a wretched boy I am."

"Little Rev, I know he was your brother, and I know you must have loved him, but he was a stupid fu..fool!"

I hummed contentedly. Charlie's hands had wandered down my back and were cupping my buttocks, squeezing and separating them.

"Um, could I ask you a question...Charlie?"

"Mmmm." His fingers were tracing the crevice and searching for my opening, and his knee had insinuated itself between my thighs.

"That song you were singing?"

"Which one? I was singing a few, if I recall." He gripped my hips, urging me to ride his knee.

"That...that last one..." I was getting distracted by the sensations he was skillfully arousing.

"Barnacle Bill? What about it?"

"What...what did he mean 'If they hurt your cheeks, they'll tickle your ass'?" I blushed and looked away.

"Damn! I've gone and shaved my beard off!"

"Maybe you could grow it back? Then you could show me!"

Part 10

The captain of the African Queen shoved piece after piece of firewood into the furnace of the boat's steam engine as we chugged along on the river. I sat at the tiller, watching in fascination the flex of muscle beneath the canvas trousers, as he searched for more tinder, and swore under his breath when he couldn't find any.

"We're going to have to tie up early. I'll need to find more fuel, and I'll need daylight for that." He turned on his haunches to smile at me.

I looked at him from under my lashes and bit my lip to keep from laughing, but didn't succeed very well. Now that we were no longer cross with each other, I felt almost giddy. I could have floated on air.

My lover flowed to his feet. There was no other way to describe the graceful movement as he rose to his full height. He poured a cup of tea, strode to the stern and offered it to me. "How's the arm feeling, Roddy?"

"You did a good job stitching it." I took a sip of the tea. "This is lovely, Charlie. Thank you."

"You carry on more over a cuppa than I do over my gin!" He tipped my chin up. I was frowning at the thought of him drinking. "You didn't answer my question."

"It's fine, Charlie."

"Why don't I believe you?"

I strove for an innocent look. "I don't know why, I'm sure!"

He settled himself as close to me as he could get with the tiller between us, and I could feel the heat of his body. I leaned into him, and rubbed my cheek against the rough material of his shirt. He rested his foot on the edge of the transom, fished in his pocket for a cigarette, and settled his arm around me.

"Tell me something about navigating the river, Charlie."

He squeezed my shoulder and pointed forward and to the right of the boat. "See that vee, little Rev? That's a snag. Take her a bit to port." I adjusted the direction of the tiller. He drew in a deep mouthful of smoke, tossed his cigarette into the river and pointed out another stretch. "That choppy water, over there? Them's shallows. The Queen don't draw much water, so she can pass over them safely. Most other boats'd get their bottoms torn out."

"And that smooth, flat expanse, Charlie? Rocks?"

"Rocks," he agreed. "Or hippos. Just don't go bumping into no hippos, little Rev. Makes them awful mad!"

I brushed the hair back out of my eyes and smiled at him. He really was a nice man, to take the time to instruct me like that. I took another sip of tea. It was cooling rapidly, and I finished it before spotting a stretch of bank that looked promising.

"Shall we tie up there, Charlie? Looks like there would be plenty of firewood there."

"Sure, little Rev. And maybe you can toss in a line and see if the fish are biting."

****

I was in a clearing on the bank when he returned with his arms laden down with a good deal of tinder. I had cleaned my catch and built a fire near the river. The meat was skewered and roasting over the small blaze.

"Mmmm. That sure smells good, little Rev. I don't remember what kind of fish is in the Ulanga. What did you hook?" He stacked the wood in the tender, hopped back onto land, and crossed the clearing to gather more of it.

"Oh, just something that wasn't too smart." I smiled at him, hoping he wouldn't press me to reveal the identity of our meal. Brother could never accept the reality of life in German East Africa. Charlie had been here longer than we had, but I didn't know how he would feel about eating snake.

He took one of the skewers and nibbled at the well-done meat. "Tastes real good, Roddy. Kind of like chicken! What'd you use?"

"I found some of the leaves the native women in Kungdu used to rub meat to give it flavor." I took a piece off the sliver of wood and bounced it from hand to hand until it cooled enough to eat. "I found a can of peaches, too, Charlie."

"Which would have been really tasty soaked in gin, little Rev!" He laughed at the affronted look I threw his way. "Did you bring the flour?"

"No, I didn't even realize we had any."

He climbed back onto the Queen and rummaged in a forward storage compartment. When he rejoined me, he had the tin of flour and a small frying pan as well.

"This is something I learned on the Veldt. Only, there it was too dangerous to have a fire, so I had to use the eye piece out of my field glasses to bake them!" Charlie put together a thick batter in the palm of his hand and fried it up. "Flatbread," he said briefly, sliding the small, golden brown circles onto a plate. He repeated the process until he had a neat stack, and some of them he sprinkled with salt, and some he sprinkled with sugar.

He handed me one of those. It was so hot it burned my mouth as I took a cautious bite. I blew on it until it lost some of its heat. Then I gobbled it down.

"This is delicious!" I mumbled around a mouthful. "May I have some more?"

He was watching me as I greedily licked the sugar from my fingers, and I blushed and dropped my eyes. Which landed in his lap, where I could make out the bulge of his prick.

"Oh!" I breathed. "Oh, my!"

"I want you, Roddy. This isn't the best of times, but I swear I'll be careful of you..."

I couldn't catch my breath. He wanted me!

His eyes were on the front of my trousers, and my prick sprang to attention. I licked my lips.

"Are you wearing anything under this, Roddy?" My lover was beside me and his hand was stroking my trousers. I shook my head, unable to say a word, and he moaned. "You are a wicked lad! Let's douse this fire and get back on board the Queen! It's time all good little boys went to bed!"

He scooped up a bucket of water and dumped it on the remains of the fire, and I leaned forward to scatter the charred twigs. I felt his palm slide up over the back of my thigh to palm the curve of my ass.

"Charlie!" He combed the hair back from my eyes and cupped my chin. "You won't be sorry, sweetheart. I promise you!"

I swung a leg over the Queen's railing, and his hand was there, giving me a boost.

Fondling me. I whimpered with need.

Charlie spread the blankets over the deck at the stern and took down the canopy. "There's no threat of rain tonight, little Rev. And I want to have you under the stars."

My fingers fumbled with the buttons on my shirt.

"Careful, Roddy." He took the shirt off my good arm and eased it down over the bandage. "You don't want to start that leaking blood." He ran his hands over my torso, and I just stood there, staring down as my nipples sharpened to pebble-hardness.

Charlie unbuttoned my trousers and brushed them down off my hips. They slid to the deck and I stepped out of them. "What...what do you want me to do?"

"Ah, sweetheart! You don't need to do a fu...a single thing!" He did try to guard his tongue around me. I thought of his tongue, of the things he might do with it, aside from guarding it, and I sighed. He stroked my shaft, catching the drops of liquid that oozed from the tip and rubbing them over the head of my prick.

Then he leaned forward and replaced his fingers with his tongue, and I realized that this was one thing I had not contemplated him doing. "Charlie!" I gasped. My legs turned to noodles and I sat down on the deck, bruising my rump. He laughed softly as I rolled to one side and rubbed it. "Not funny, Charlie!" I said, aggrieved. "I hurt my bum!"

"Then I'll just have to kiss it and make it well, won't I, little Rev?" He brushed my hand out of the way, and kissed and nipped his way over one cheek and across to the other.

I found myself flat on my stomach, and I pillowed my hands under my cheek.

"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart." His tongue began to explore the crevice between my buttocks, starting at the sensitive skin just behind my balls and working his way to the tight ring of muscle that guarded my back passage. I shivered as it probed the pucker, and tried to hold myself still, but my prick was begging to be stroked and I rocked my hips forward.

Charlie abandoned his actions and sat back, and the cool night breeze blew across my hole. I tensed, but then he stroked me, and I relaxed. In the dark, I could hear the rustle of clothing as he stripped off his shirt and trousers. He dragged a tin toward him, and opened it, scooping out a viscous substance that he spread over me, and then began to work into my snug channel.

This was what I had wanted since I had seen those two natives loving each other in the jungle. But the sensation was like nothing I had dreamed. "Am I hurting you, little Rev?" Charlie asked as his finger slid deep inside me.

"No!" I moaned. "Give me more!"

He chuckled, and suddenly there were two fingers preparing the way for him. I was frantically rubbing myself against the blankets. "Can you take another finger, little Rev? I want you really loose. I'm not much above average in size, but I don't want you to bleed!"

"Please, Charlie! Please!"

My breath caught as he fucked me with three fingers, constantly crossing something inside me that drove me wild.

"All right, sweetheart." He removed his fingers and I looked back to watch as he slicked more of the substance on his shaft. "Get on your knees. No, keep your head down, I don't want any weight on your injured arm!" He drew a deep breath. "All right. I'm going to give you the real thing now. You'll tell me if it hurts. Promise me!"

"Yes, *yes*, anything! Just fuck me, please Charlie!"

He was careful. Oh, he was very careful. And I thought I would go out of my mind.

The broad head of his prick pressed against my hole, and for just a second there was resistance, and a feeling that bordered on pain. I wasn't about to tell my lover, and have him call a halt to this marvelous experience. I wanted this, and I would undergo anything to have it.

But then he was past the ring and sliding deep into me. His balls pressed snug against mine, and he held himself still to allow me to become accustomed to his invasion.

I bucked my hips, inviting him to ravage me. And he accepted my invitation.

His motion was strong as he plumbed my depths. He would withdraw until just the head of his prick was still in me, and then slide back his entire length. Gradually, his pace picked up, until he was slamming into me forcefully.

I spread my legs wider, trying to take more of him, trying to take him deeper. His hands shifted from my hips to my shaft, and he caressed me in time to his own thrusts, driving me higher and higher. Sensation pooled in my groin, and then spiraled out to the farthest reaches of my body.

"Charlie!" I spilled myself into his hands, filling them to overflowing.

"Ah, my beautiful boy. Take this. Take *me*!" His prick seemed to swell, stretching the walls of my channel even further, and then he cried out as he flooded me with liquid heat.

My lover's lips wandered over my back, finally settling on the spot where shoulder and neck joined, and he began to suckle. I whimpered, and my inner muscles clenched.

Carefully, Charlie got us onto our sides, making sure my injured arm was not beneath us. He was softening, but he hadn't slid out of me yet, and I relished the feel of him: still part of my body.

"Charlie, I lo..." and I was sound asleep.

Part 11

I sat tensely at the tiller as Charlie pointed toward the last of the rapids that tortured this portion of the Ulanga. These looked to be really brutal, a series of waterfalls that descended into stretches that danced riotously and then caracoled like an insane thing. With rocks cropping up at odd intervals, there could be no doubt they would prove fatal to the Queen if she could not
avoid them.

He kicked the boiler and staggered back to the stern, trying to maintain his balance as the river seized the old boat in its clutches and hurled her into the treacherous currents.

"It's...it's hard to steer, Charlie!" I shouted over the tumult of the white water. He positioned himself next to me and threw his weight into the tiller as well.

And we went over the first of the falls.

Charlie held tight to the tiller and to me, and somehow we managed not to get thrown out. The African Queen was almost perpendicular to that drop, her bow plunging straight down into the frothy spume. She barely had time to settle at the bottom of the trough, before the current dragged her on toward the next falls. Water washed ceaselessly over the side of the boat, and soon we were ankle deep in it.

The next series of falls were not quite as violent, and we had a brief span to catch our breaths. Charlie got himself behind me on the transom and braced his legs around mine. His arms circling me, he pulled me back into his body, trying to shield me from the worst of the buffeting, and we clung to the tiller for dear life, trying to force the boat into the safest path.

The Queen was flung forward and she slipped and slid and took on more water. I was sure this was the end, and I wanted to bury my face in my lover's chest, but I knew he needed me to keep watch for the rocks, so I gritted my teeth and kept my eyes opened.

As if furious that she was about to lose us, the Ulanga tried one last time, thrusting us over an expanse of rocks we hadn't expected, hadn't seen. There was a scream of tortured metal as the African Queen struggled through the rapids, and then the river reluctantly released us from her death grip.

The old boat wallowed and rolled through the calmer waters, seemingly as exhausted by the ordeal as we were. As if of her own volition, she made toward the bank. I leaned forward to give Charlie room to get around me, but instead he seized my waist and pulled me back to him. I froze as I felt the insistent press of his prick against my buttocks.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, and he took my chin in his fingers and brought my mouth to his. His lips pressed lightly until mine opened to him, and his tongue slid in, exploring the heated depths of my mouth.

He unbuttoned my trousers and spread them open, allowing my shaft to spring free, and traced the muscles of my thighs and groin. I had to break the kiss in order to breathe. His thumb teased the slit at the tip. He smeared it with the clear drops of fluid that beaded there, and pressed down to encourage more to appear.

The tin of the lubricant he had used the night before was stored in a nearby compartment. He scrabbled for it and managed to scoop up a goodly amount. "Rise up a bit, Roddy," he murmured hoarsely, as he freed himself from his trousers and applied a liberal coating to his own weeping shaft. As I moved, my trousers slid down, leaving me bare and exposed.

My channel was still slick from the last time Charlie had loved me, just as the dawn was breaking. Now he slid a finger into me, testing my readiness, and then he drew me up and back. As I lowered myself onto him, I felt the now-familiar pressure of his prick at my opening, begging to be let in.

I took a deep breath and let my weight carry me down. I felt myself enveloping my lover; that was all it took. I exploded. My inner muscles clenched around the intruder that was thrusting in my passage, demanding even more of a response from me. I moaned and shuddered, and became hard once more.

"Burn for me, sweetheart. Catch fire!" Charlie's hands on my hips urged me to ride him harder, to take him deeper. Each inward stroke bumped that spot inside me. Each outward caress left me anticipating the next thrust.

With a growl, Charlie began to come, and the sensation of being filled swamped me. All I could feel was my lover in me and around me. I came again, knowing I was safe in his arms.

****

The African Queen gently bumped the bank, rousing me back to consciousness. Charlie slipped out of me, and I winced.

Charlie had made love to me three more times the night before, the last time having me just before dawn, and when I woke again, my eyelashes were glued together, my hair stood up in spikes, and I was so sore I knew I wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a week.

And so happy, I could have died and thought the world well lost for love.

His hand tousled my hair. "I've got to tie us up, little Rev. Can you start bailing?"

I looked around dazedly, and nodded. "Aye, aye, Captain." I hauled up my trousers and fastened them, then went to the bilge pump and began working the handle.

"Easy, little Rev. Easy. Like this." He knelt behind me and placed his hand over mine. The pace he set was slow and steady. And sensuous.

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, absorbing the warmth of him. He took my face in both his palms and turned it up toward his. "Roddy!" he said softly, and swallowed the sigh I breathed into his mouth.

He released me and got to his feet. "Pump, sweetheart. Or we'll wind up *in* the river instead of *down* it!"

I picked up the tempo and watched as the level of water in the boat gradually lessened. Charlie tossed the anchor into the river and prepared to go overboard to see what had caused the ear-shattering screech of metal when we tore through the last of the white water.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, little Rev?" One leg was already over the side, and his attention was centered on what might be beneath the surface of the river.

I went over to him and put my arms around his shoulders, hugging him close. "You'll be careful, won't you?"

His head shot up, and a broad grin split his face. "You bet your ass I will!" I blushed at his mention of that portion of my anatomy, that well-used portion of my anatomy. "I've got you to come back to!" He pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, and dropped into the water.

I went back to working the bilge pump, but didn't take my eyes off the stern of the boat. A minute dragged into two. Two minutes dragged into three. I was about to abandon the pump and go looking for him when he heaved himself up over the side, gasping and sputtering.

"Charlie! I was so worried!"

"No need, little Rev. There's no fancy currents down there. I took the time to give her hull a going over. The skin seems tight enough."

"But...?"

"But the shaft is twisted like a corkscrew, and one of the blades is gone off the prop." He wiped the water from his face.

"Can't we mend it?"

"Oh, sure, if we was in a slip in Limbasi. We'd just get the Queen out of water. We'd take the shaft down and straighten it, and order a new prop from the manufacturers. It wouldn't take long for it to come in, seeing as she's only thirty years old. And while we was waiting, we'd get her bottom scraped and a new coat of paint on her."

"You were a machinist up at the mine, weren't you, Charlie?"

"Uh, yeah, I was. Sort of jack of all trades, master of none, you might say." He grinned. "I can do most anything!"

"Yes, you can!" I agreed softly under my breath, and utterly lost my train of thought as I caressed him with my eyes.

"So what if I was a machinist, little Rev?"

"Oh!" I remembered what I wanted to say. "Why couldn't you mend her here?"

He had been enjoying my obvious pleasure in his body, and he sighed. "I ain't *that* good, little Rev. I'd need an anvil, a hearth, coals. Which we ain't got, in case it escaped your notice."

"I once saw a Masai native working with charcoal on a hollow stone. Mightn't that work?"

He scratched the hinge of his jaw. "Yeah, that *might*. It would mean working under water. But there's still the prop."

"Do we have to have it?"

The captain nodded and reached out to stroke my cheek. "Without a new blade, she'll be out of balance and the shaft will be all twisted again. I can make the blade, that ain't the problem. It's how to keep it in place. We can't tie it on!"

"Could we weld it? That is the term, isn't it, Charlie? Well, you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean." He took a strand of my hair and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, then tugged me toward him. "You're a wonder, Roddy. A pure wonder!"

"Then we'll do it." Our lips were just a breath apart.

"We'll try," he hedged.

"And then..."

His gaze became cautious. "And then..."

"And then we'll make the torpedoes!"

Part 12

It took time to get that shaft off the Queen and onto the shore so Charlie could work at straightening it. He kept refusing my offers to help, until the time he came up choking and sputtering.

"Feels ... like... I swallowed ... half the river ... that time!"

I helped him over the side of the boat and handed him a cup of tea. "You need something warm inside you, Charlie. Drink this!"

He nodded and took the cup. "I... just need ... to catch my breath."

"When you go back in, I'm going with you," I told him as I sipped from my own cup.

"*What*?" The tea sprayed from his mouth. "What will you be thinking of next? You're not doing that! I don't need no drowneded boy on my hands! And what about your arm!"

I sat next to him and ran my palm over the stubble that covered his cheeks. "I'm not a boy! My arm is doing fine. You can take the stitches out anytime now. And I'm going in with you! Unless you tie me to this deck, there's no way you can stop me!"

Charlie scowled at me. "Don't tempt me, little Rev. I just might do that!"

But the next time he went into the Ulanga, I was right behind him. We got the shaft off, and eventually he had it straightened.

"You know, if my old Dad had put me to blacksmithing as a boy, I'd never have come to Africa!"

"If you never came here, I never would have met you!" That thought disturbed me.

"No, I think we were fated, little Rev."

"Beg pardon?"

Charlie just grinned. "I think..." He leaned back against the side of the boat and gazed up at the piercingly blue African sky. "I think I would have found you, no matter what!"

"Really?" I breathed.

"Really. Now," my lover rose and sauntered toward me. I grew hard, and wondered if he would finally let me see him as he made love to me in the light of day. He pulled me to my feet and pinched my nether cheek. "Give us a kiss, and let's get back to work!"

//Charlie Allnutt, I'll see you naked yet!// I vowed to myself.

Charlie managed to fashion the blade for the propeller out of the metal that he had on board. I worked the bellows to fan the charcoal, and eventually it was welded on.

"Well, it works well enough," he said as he ran the engine to see how the shaft and prop functioned. "The question is, how will she stand up under a full head of steam?"

"The answer is out there?" I asked, nodding toward the Ulanga as she flowed past our vantage point.

"Yeeaahh." He drew out his response, clearly not happy with that prospect. "And the Lord help us if it ain't the right one!"

****

With the shaft and the propeller once more back in place, we decided to spend the remainder of the day doing mundane chores.

"Charlie, why don't you get out of those clothes and I'll wash them, along with mine?"

"Uh, no. That's all right, little Rev. I don't mind."

I just stared at him. "Well, *I* mind, Charlie. You're getting a bit...whiff...if you don't mind my saying."

Color mounted his cheeks. "Yes, well, I...I don't have anything to wear in the meantime."

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Use a blanket!" I threw it to him and gathered what clothes I had, pretending to be busy. But I peeked over my shoulder, hoping for just a glimpse of the body that brought me such pleasure.

Charlie was watching me, gnawing on his lower lip, and he saw me glance his way. He raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged and turned away. I was listening carefully, though, and when I stole another look, his back was to me, his shirt was off, and he was removing his canvas trousers. He was naked under the worn pants, and I understood why he was reluctant to have me see him without the protection of his clothes.

From the outer curve of his ribcage to just below his left hip, my lover bore a vivid reminder of the war in which he had fought. A white, raised scar bisected his back. I had never felt it, because he always made sure he took me from behind. And he never permitted me to touch him under his shirt when we embraced.

I left my clothes balanced on the rail; they could wait until later to be washed. I padded silently to where he was wrapping himself in the blanket. "Charlie!" I murmured as I traced that scar, first with my fingertips, and then with my lips. He stiffened under my touch. "Did you imagine I would think less of you because your body was marked by scars of honour?"

"There wasn't anything honourable about that war!" he said hoarsely. He refused to turn and face me.

I slid my arms around him and explored his back with teeth and tongue. His skin was cool from the last time he had submerged himself in the Ulanga, but it warmed under my ministrations. "Make love to me now, Charlie," I sighed, rubbing my erection against him.

He groaned and turned to take me in his arms, the blanket falling unheeded to the deck. "You're going to be the death of me, little Rev! I really am too old for you!"

"No!" I moaned as he ran his thumb over my lips. "You're perfect for me!"

He nuzzled the spot under my ear. "You're just a boy, and I'm twice your age!"

I pulled back and looked, really looked at him, at the hair that lightly furred his chest. It was dark as the hair on his head, but sprinkled in it were numerous grey hairs. I stroked my hands over it, feeling his nipples tighten to sharp points and stab my palms.

"Charlie." I could feel heat climb my cheeks at the words I was about to speak. "*Fuck* your age!" If Brother had heard me use language like that, he would have seen to it that I would be unable to sit for a very long time, indeed. I told Charlie as much.

"Perhaps I should punish your for your naughty language then, little Rev." His fingers caressed my buttocks, squeezing and parting them so he could find the opening that belonged to him alone.

This was not my brother who caned me to the point of unconsciousness. This was my lover, who awakened me to sensations that left me wide-eyed and breathless. "Oh, I've been very wicked, sir. If I ever hope to get into heaven, I'll need to be spanked frequently!"

"By me?"

"Only by you!"

His mouth opened over mine and his tongue plunged past my lips, repeatedly mimicking the action of his hips. He licked my palate and inner cheek, before luring my tongue into his mouth, where he sucked on it gently.

"Charlie, please!" I gasped. I took his hand and brought it to my groin, where my arousal had been weeping with excitement for some time.

"My beautiful boy!" he whispered. "My own little Rev! This time I want to watch you when I make you come!"

He laid me down on the blanket and reached for the tin of the engine's lubricant. Before leaving Limbasi that last time, he had gotten a brand new supply, and the stuff had not been used before the first night he had brought me to climax with just his touch. We were making such in-roads into it that I feared the Queen would be shorted when she needed it, but Charlie had just laughed and said I was more important to him than the old boat.

My lover coated his rampant erection and then pushed my legs back toward my chest, leaving me exposed to his careful touch. He ran a finger over my balls and then to the pucker that was impatiently awaiting his possession. I shivered with want, and he inserted one finger, pausing until I was comfortable with the invasion.

Keeping his eyes on my face, he gave me a second finger, stroking the lubricant into my passage, and brushing across that spot inside me. I yelped in response.

"Oh, I do like when you sing for me, little Rev!" This time three fingers made their way into me, and I was mewling with the fever he was building.

Finally, as I trembled on the brink, he removed his fingers and brought the flushed head of his prick to my spasming opening. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, he pushed forward, the hair at his groin teasing my shaft and driving me higher, while his prick began measuring its length in me again and again.

Charlie lay chest to chest on me, and my shaft was trapped between us. I chanted his name as he fucked me, until his mouth seized mine and all I could do was hum with frantic pleasure around his tongue.

I trembled and then came apart in his arms as with one final, powerful thrust he poured himself in my willing channel. The deck of the African Queen was hard under my back, but that was unimportant. My lover was in me, and that was all that mattered.

****

Charlie let himself over the side of the old boat and began to swim lazily around her. I was already in the river, washing the residue of our passion from my body. The cool water soothed my aches, but I relished the reminder of my lover's possession.

However, there were still chores to be done. I washed Charlie's clothes and climbed back aboard to hang them from the line he had put up for me. Then I went to where I had left my trousers and shirts, only they were nowhere to be seen. I searched the boat, and then dove back into the Ulanga and swam to the other side of the Queen looking for my clothing. Nothing.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He was lying on the surface, his prick soft along his thigh and his voice filled with satisfaction.

"Have you seen my clothes?" Perhaps he was teasing me and had hidden them.

"No, little Rev. I'm too busy enjoying the afterglow of loving you to within an inch of your life."

I gasped, sure I could not possibly be growing aroused again! I swam to where he was floating on his back, the stroke I used exposing my well-used nether region to the flow of water over it. "I can't find them, Charlie!"

"What?"

"I can't find my clothes!"

"Hmmm. If they tumbled into the river, the current may well have carried them away!" Charlie snickered, and suddenly looked thoughtful.

Foolishly, I disregarded that look. I was rather concerned about facing the light of day without having trousers and shirts. I still had my unmentionables, so I wouldn't be totally naked, but I was at a loss, not ever having faced anyone solely in undergarments.

"So, young man, it seems to me you've been very careless, losing your clothing like that! You'll have nothing but your skivvies to wear, I would think. And I also think that... a spanking is in order!" He lunged for me, and with a squeak I tried to get away.

Tried, but not very hard.

And needless to say, I failed.

Part 13

I was stretched out naked on the deck, sated, letting the heat of the sun soak into my back after my final dip into the Ulanga before we continued on our way. We needed to determine how the Queen reacted to her repairs.

My buttocks were still warm from the paddling my lover had given me for being so careless as to lose my clothing. I didn't understand how they could have fallen overboard and gotten lost in the river. The current surely wasn't that fast!

"Are they quite red, Charlie?" I asked as I brushed the hair out of my eyes and smiled at him over my shoulder, wanting nothing more than to have his hands on me again.

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you, little Rev?" He lounged casually on the transom, leaning on the tiller, which obeyed his steady hand.

I remembered the feel of that hand on me, and wriggled voluptuously, rubbing my prick restlessly against the blanket on which I was lying. "Not a bit, my very dear!"

He growled at my words, but I could see how they pleased him and how my actions excited him. "You have a very spank-able bum, I'll have you know, Roddy Sayer! And I'm too old to be making love to you again so soon, so just you stop tempting me!"

"Do I tempt you, Charlie? Oh, you do say the nicest things!"

He grinned, his eyes avidly stroking the curves of my buttocks.

I sighed and rolled over, shading my eyes with my arm. "How is she holding up, Charlie?"

"Things is looking good, little Rev!"

"Why do you do that, Charlie?"

"Do what?" He was scanning the river ahead of us, searching for rocks or snags.

"I've noticed...sometimes you speak as if you never had any education at all. And other times you speak as well as I do."

"Noticed that, did you, little Rev?" He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"Charlie, don't procrastinate. If you had no education, you would never have known of poetry like Gunga Din or The Charge of the Light Brigade."

He smiled at me through the smoke of his cigarette. "My ma was a schoolteacher. She believed in books, and she made sure I appreciated them as well. And she had a real elegant way about her of speaking, which she passed on to me. My dad, now, he was a common laborer who liked the bottle a little too much. After she passed on, there wasn't anything left for me there except to follow in the old man's footsteps. I couldn't bear that. And well, I wanted to see the world, so I ran off to be a soldier."

"Gentlemen rankers, off on a spree,
"Doomed from here to eternity..." I sang softly.

"Not even a gentlemen, little Rev, but you have the right idea. I discovered my mates thought I was trying to make sport of them if I talked proper, so I adopted their way of speaking. When I started working at the mine, it gave me an edge over those Froggies up there. They thought I was an ignorant sod. Never could figure out how I'd get the best of them." His eyes grew distant. "Sometimes I forget. She would have been so disappointed in me."

I got to my knees and crossed the deck to the stern on them. "No, she wouldn't! You're a good man, Charlie Allnutt!" I ran my fingers over the front of his trousers, tracing the bulge that was tenting the fabric. I unbuttoned the placket and took his prick out.

"Oh, now, here, little Rev!"

As I watched, clear fluid beaded at the tip. Curious, I leaned forward and licked it off.

"Little Rev, I don't think you want to do that!"

I looked up at him through the hair that fell into my eyes. "I don't?" I licked again. "I think I do, Charlie. I like the way you taste!"

"Jesus God, boy! You're killing me!"

I ignored his words and ran my tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip, then reached into his trousers and took his balls in my fingers, rolling them and rubbing them.

He thrust forward just a bit, and that was enough to encourage me. I dipped my head and took an inch into my mouth. A tiny spurt of precome hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed it. My own prick stirred, and I engulfed more of him. His head tipped back, and he groaned, the hands that had at first tired to stop me now urging me on.

"Yes, Charlie!" I released him long enough to let him know how much I was enjoying this. "Do that again! Fuck my mouth!" This time I took his entire length in my mouth, feeling him nudge the back of my throat. I pulled my head back until just the tip of his prick remained between my lips, and I nibbled and licked while he petted my cheeks and shoulders and back. I sucked him all the way in and let him feel my teeth.

With a shout, his hips jerked uncontrollably, and he was filling my mouth with his hot essence. My throat muscles worked, milking the last drop from him, and he sagged backward. I let him slip from my lips, a tiny smear of come at the corner of my mouth.

"Jesus God!" he repeated, and he took my face in his hands and drew me to him. "No one's ever done that for me before!"

I felt a flush heat my cheeks, and looked away, afraid I might have cheapened myself in his eyes. "Surely the 'ladies' in Limbasi...?"

He was shaking his head. "Not the 'ladies', not the odd mate..."

"I shouldn't have done that, Charlie?" I asked, barely able to get the words past my lips.

My lover put my arms around his neck and raised my chin. His mouth was hard on mine, and his tongue swept in to taste himself. "Thank you, little Rev! Thank you!" His hand fondled my hip and then wandered to where my shaft was impertinently pressing against his thigh. "And turnabout is only fair play!"

He pushed me to the railing of the old boat and sank to his knees before me. "Charlie! Who's steering the Queen?"

"She'll be all right for the time it takes me to please you! And if she isn't..." His mouth swooped down to capture my prick. And he showed me what heaven looked like.

****

"No other man could have done it, you know that, Charlie?"

"Brought you such pleasure do you mean, little Rev? It's nice of you to say so!"

I blushed. "You know that isn't what I was talking about, Charlie! Although, it is true!"

I climbed into my unmentionables, but my lover brushed my hands away and began to button me up, using the opportunity to toy with my nipples and stroke his fingers through the silky hair that grew under my arms. I shuddered and reached for him, but he turned me around and pulled me backward into his embrace. Cradled in his arms and thighs, I sat before him on the transom, and he steered the African Queen down the Ulanga.

He laughed softly and dropped a kiss behind my ear, and I sighed happily and snuggled against him.

"You've done so many things, Charlie: gotten us past Shona and through the rapids, repaired the Queen when she was damaged." I knew it was time to bring up the next venture. "You can make a torpedo, too! Can't you, Charlie?"

"Beg pardon?"

I raised my head and smiled at him. "I thought that was my phrase, my dear."

"Don't change the subject, little Rev! What did you just ask me?"

"I asked..."

"I *heard* what you asked, Roddy! Off all the fool...You might as well ask me if I can fly! It's impossible!"

"Why?"

"*Why*? Well, it's complicated!"

If I had been having this conversation with Brother, it would have been finished at this point. But I knew my lover would not strike me. Well, he might spank me, but that was something else entirely. I felt myself grow warm at the thought. And I couldn't resist teasing him: it was such a delight!

"Why is it complicated?"

His eyes took on a rather desperate cast. "A torpedo is a complicated piece of machinery. There's gyroscopes, compressed air chambers, compensating cylinders. And I don't have the equipment to make any of those things, so there." He nodded triumphantly. "It can't be done!"

"But...all those things, the gyroscope and the chambers and what-all-else, they're just to make it go, and hit what it's aimed at, aren't they?"

"Well, yes," he agreed reluctantly.

"We've got the African Queen!" I told him with satisfaction. "We could fill the oxygen and hydrogen cylinders with the blasting gelatin, couldn't we? If we fixed them to stick out of the side of the boat, we could ram the Queen against the side of the Louisa."

"Getting ourselves blown up in the process?"

"Oh, no! We'd dive off before she collided, of course!"

"Oh, of course!" Charlie growled. "Well, listen good, little Rev. We ain't gonna do it, because it can't be done!"

I turned my head, and he stared deep into my eyes. I refused to look away. I was beginning to notice that after putting up some resistance, Charlie Allnutt invariably did what I wanted him to. I found that thought utterly arousing.

And he surrendered, as I was certain he would. "All right. I'll make the torpedoes. I'll get you down the Bora to that Lake, and I'll turn the Queen into a dreadnought. And we're both going to wind up dead!"

I smiled at him, so filled with pride that he was going to do this. "We won't die, Charlie. We're on a righteous mission. The Almighty will protect us."

"Of course He will." Charlie put me away from him. "He looks after fools and children, doesn't He?"

"You're not a fool, Charlie. And I trust you. You'll get us to the Bora."

"Listen, little Rev. I ain't Spengler, and this ain't no dugout canoe!"

"Yes, I know. But I know you'll get us to the Lake, just the same!" I said it with the utmost confidence.

"I'm glad one of us is so sure of that!" He huffed in dismay. "How did I let you talk me into this damnfool mission?"

"Because you...like me?" I asked daringly.

"No! Because I..." He brought himself up short, as if something had startled him. After a beat he continued. "Yeah, little Rev. Because I like you."

Part 14

Charlie sprawled backward in my arms as I edged the tiller to port to keep us in the center of the river. Winding slow and easy between her wide banks, the African Queen carried us sedately on our way. My left hand stroked over his chest, pausing every now and then to caress a nipple.

"Pinch me, sweetheart," Charlie sighed, rubbing his head against my chest. "Here we are, boating down the Ulanga as gracious as you please! Why, we're just like Antony and..."

I squeezed his nipple, and he growled and leaned his head back to frown at me.

"I am *not* Cleopatra!" I informed my lover as I rubbed a soothing apology over the bit of flesh I had tormented. Then I captured his earlobe between my teeth and bit down.

"Bugger!" he yelled. "You little devil!"

I chuckled and sucked on his ear.

"No, you certainly aren't Cleopatra, little Rev. I was going to say 'like Antony and Caesar'."

"In that case..." I kissed the toothmarks I had put on him. "Are you Caesar, Charlie?"

"I ain't much of a ruler, Roddy."

"But you're my..." I bit my tongue. I knew the older man was more than a little fond of me, but how could I let him know I was thinking of 'forever after' in terms of us? Perhaps once we succeeded in sinking the Louisa, he would want us to go our separate ways.

"I'm your what, little Rev?"

"You're my very good friend, Charlie. Um, do you suppose this is where the Ulanga changes to the Bora?"

He was watching the slow passage of the wildlife that came down to the river's edge to drink, and now he nodded. "Shall we tie up for the night?"

"Why, Charlie!" I teased. "What did you have in mind?"

He pulled my head down to his and caressed my lips with an open-mouthed kiss. "The river is resting, sweetheart. We need to, also."

My lover rose and walked to the bow as I steered us toward the near bank. He tossed the anchor over the side and turned, just as the first fly bit my neck.

"Oww!" Suddenly, I was surrounded by a black cloud of the swarming, biting insects. "*Charlie*?" They descended on me, the sound of their wings so loud everything else was drowned out. "I'm being eaten alive! I'm going over the side!"

His grip on my arm jerked me to an abrupt halt. "What you said about being eaten alive, little Rev?" He nodded toward the opposite shore, where I could just make out the crocodiles that were launching themselves into the river and arrowing to our side.

"Charlie! Get me out of here!" I swatted the air about my head as they settled into my hair and entered my ears and mouth. I spat frantically. "Charlie! I can't stand it!"

Charlie shoved me to the deck and tossed a stained tarpaulin over me. I cowered under it, shuddering and blinking furiously to prevent the plague of flies from getting into my eyes. I continued to brush at my face and arms, moaning in desperation. I began to fear there would be no more air to breathe.

And then the tarp was pulled away. The flies were gone. Charlie had the African Queen moving at full speed away from that benighted spot. He bent to make sure I was all right, and I threw myself into his arms, tears streaming down my bitten cheeks. "I'm sorry, Charlie! Oh, God! I'm sorry! I'm so ashamed of myself!" I wept.

He held me tight and stroked my back, murmuring soft words of comfort. "My beautiful boy. My own little Rev. It's all right. We're away from there now."

"Charlie, I didn't help you. Oh, your poor neck!" Raised welts covered every bit of flesh that hadn't been protected by clothing.

"It looks worse than it is, sweetheart. I'll make a poultice of mud for the two of us, and it will be fine. It's just having them attack like that! I've heard of them driving buffalo and native cattle mad! They just run and run until they fall down dead!"

I trembled and held him tighter. "Will it be like that everywhere we try to tie up, Charlie?"

"I don't know, little Rev. If the river stays straight, I'll try to keep us in the center of the river. I'll let the anchor out a ways. That should keep us out of trouble. Here, now, Roddy." He tapped my chin. "Make us some tea, why don't you?"

The mundane task helped me pull myself together. Charlie obtained some mud from the river bottom, and we spent the remaining daylight hours daubing each other with the soothing stuff.

But our dreams that night were filled with the buzzing, biting horror.

****

"How much further to the Lake, Charlie?"

"There's no telling how many days it will take. It's probably just a few miles as the crow flies, but it all depends on how much winding around this old river does."

"I'm sorry, Charlie. When we started, I didn't think... I've put your life in danger, and I'm so sorry."

He hugged me close. "Now, now, Roddy; none of that. I wouldn't have missed this...missed you...for the world! What a time we've had, little Rev!"

"We'll never lack for stories to tell when we get back, will we, Charlie?"

My lover pressed a kiss to my hair. Then he stiffened, and I froze, half-expecting us to be attacked by stinging insects again.

Instead, before us lay a sea of grass and papyrus. "Shit! Sorry, little Rev. There doesn't seem to be a main channel!"

I swallowed hard. "We can't just go round and round."

"No. But once we're in that, there'll be no going back. If we choose the wrong channel, we'll have to go forward until we get stuck on the mud. Then we'll just sit there until we go mad with fever."

"Oh, Charlie!"

He pulled me to him and took a deep breath. "It will be all right, little Rev. I promise you!" His mouth was savage on mine, and I whimpered under his assault and took fire.

"Yes!" I moaned. "Take me, Charlie! Before we go into that, make love to me one more time!"

"Oh, yes!" There was no time for finesse, no time for tender kisses. He ripped at the buttons of my unmentionables and shoved them down off my hips. "Lean against the side, sweetheart!"

I braced my legs apart and jerked as my lover hastily inserted a lubricated finger into me. "Charlie! Do it!" I ordered. With one smooth thrust, he was buried up to his balls in me, the hair at his groin tickling my buttocks. He gripped my shaft and held both of us still. I could feel his prick quivering in my passage, lodged firmly against the spot that made me burn. I shook with
the need to move.

But he forced me to remain motionless. "Charlie!" I wailed with frustration.

His fingers twined with mine as I gripped the railing, and he began slamming into me with such force that I thought I would go over the side. He pulled me upright, his hands placing mine behind his back before he released them. As he reached for my aching shaft, and as he stroked me and drove me into a realm of unbelievable sensations, I gripped the muscles of his buttocks in clenched fingers. I urged him to fuck me harder, with words I was unaware I knew, and with actions he had taught me.

My lover fastened his lips at the base of my neck and began to suckle, and with a cry, I poured forth the essence of life, spattering it over my chest. Charlie swirled it over my torso, coating my nipples. And then he bent me forward again. Mindlessly, my inner muscles grasped at his shaft, and I was filled with heat as he came in my plundered channel.

"My beautiful boy!" he whispered in my ear, dropping kisses, licks and nips across my shoulders.

I tried to keep him in me for as long as I could, but eventually he softened too much to remain in the body he claimed, and he slid out. He turned me and licked my nipples clean.

"Not fair, Charlie!" I murmured, leaning against him. I nuzzled the spot under his ear.

"Life isn't fair, little Rev." He looked ahead at the hammocks of grass. Once we were in there, once it closed behind us, there would be no going back. "All right, sweetheart. You pays your money and you takes your choice!"

Part 15

The channel we were following had narrowed until it was hardly much wider than the African Queen. The air was hot and close, and so humid it felt as if we were breathing through a blanket soaked in water.

We freed the poles we were using from the muck, and walked to the bow of the boat. My lover paused to wipe his face with a dingy handkerchief. He tossed a tired smile my way. "Well, little Rev, we've come by steam, we've paddled and pushed and pulled this old boat along by hook."

I grinned back at him. "The only thing we haven't done is carry her!"

Charlie gave a spurt of laughter. "That'll come next, Roddy! Jesus God, it's getting bad, little Rev." He sobered and reached for a cigarette. "I can't tell the water from the land anymore!"

"We've always followed the current..." I poured a cup of tea and brought it to him. "I'll just go over the side and see what the lay of the river is like up ahead."

"Roddy. We don't know what's in these waters. Be careful, sweetheart."

I put my arms around him and kissed his cheek, leaning into him and fighting to keep the words locked in my heart. I loved him so much, but I didn't dare tell him. Instead, I gave him another cocky grin and reached for the machete. Maybe I could slice some kind of path that would make it a little easier for him.

Feeling much like Ariadne, I took a ball of twine with me so I wouldn't lose my way. Scarcely a dozen feet from the boat, and she was indiscernible in the overgrowth that was enveloping us.

The river bottom sucked at my feet, threatening to yank off the shoes I wore, which fortunately hadn't disappeared over the side of the Queen along with the rest of my clothing. Otherwise I might have been tempted to think my lover wanted to keep me barefoot and naked.

I turned back, making sure there was a path for us to follow. Charlie gave me a hand up over the railing, and we each took a pole and began poling the African Queen deeper into the reeds that encroached on that narrow channel.

Finally we reached a point where the poles did no good at all. We appeared to be stuck.

"Charlie?" What were we to do now?

He licked his lips. "I know what you said about carrying the Queen was meant to be a joke, little Rev. It's no joke. You keep poling, and I'll start dragging her."

It was difficult to breathe, and physical exertion made it more so. I was positive I was going to collapse in a heap, of no use to my lover at all. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes, leaving my unmentionables stuck to my body. I promised myself I'd do this only until I counted a thousand steps. A thousand wasn't much; I knew I could do that easily.

By the end of the first thousand, I decided to try for more. I went back to counting under my breath, and somehow, keeping count became the most important thing. As long as I could keep track of the number of footsteps it took me to walk to the stern and then back to the bow as I poled the boat along, everything would be all right.

"Little Rev! Little Rev!" Charlie shook me, and I came back from wherever my mind had been.

"Four thousand three hundred seventy-eight. I can go further if we need to. Four thousand three hundred seventy-eight. Don't let me lose count. Are we any further along, love?" I swayed on my feet.

"Sweetheart, we're going to rest for a minute. I want you to take a break."

I smiled at him dazedly. "Very well, Charlie. You're the captain! Four thousand three hundred seventy-eight." I leaned against the pole and my eyes finally focused on the man before me. And what was visible through the tears in his shirt. "*Charlie*!"

He looked down at himself, and gave a cry of horror. "Leeches! Ooooh, the little beggars! Pull them off, Roddy! Pull them...no don't! If the heads stay in they'll poison the blood!"

Charlie was shuddering, his breath coming so rapidly I was afraid he would swoon. "Salt!" I grabbed up a tin and began patting it on the ugly, swollen black creatures. Charlie pulled off his shirt and stripped off his pants, revealing more of the leeches.

The salt worked, and I was able to get the ghastly things off my lover, leaving smears of blood over his chest and arms and calves.

"Ooooh! If there's anything in the world I hate, it's leeches! Little devils!" Shudders rippled over his body, and I took him in my arms, pressing kisses to his throat and cheek and stroking his hair.

"What you need is a cup of tea, love. Now come sit down."

"No." The look in his eyes was that of a man facing his worst nightmare. The thought of what he was about to do made him look ill, and his voice ached. "We have to keep moving. If I don't go back in *now*, I'll never be able to go in, and we'll stay here forever!"

"Charlie!"

He cupped my jaw in his hand and brought my mouth to his for a brief kiss. Then he climbed into his clothing and went back into the river.

But we couldn't go on much further like that, him pulling and me poling, and I picked up the huge knife and went into the water ahead of him, doing my best to clear a path for my lover and the...the *goddamned* boat he carried on his back.

Blinded by tears at his valour, I pushed myself, determined not to let him down.

"Roddy. Roddy. Come on, little Rev, we've got to get back aboard the old Queen. We're starting to lose the light." He led me back to the boat, and we got rid of the leeches that covered us.

Charlie was shivering, and I got a blanket and covered his shoulders. "Drink this, love. It's good for what ails you."

He took the cup of tea from my hands, but nearly spilled it over himself. "Fine specimen of a man *I* am!" he grimaced in disgust.

I helped him get the cup to his lips. "You're the bravest man who ever lived, Charlie Allnutt! No other man alive could do what you've done!"

He leaned his head against the side of the Queen, watching me. "Well, if that's so, it's because no other man alive has you!"

I couldn't get a word past my lips. Charlie was looking at me with such...with such...

"Oh, Charlie, you've lost your mind!" I whispered, trying to lighten the moment. He took my hand in his and brought my palm to his lips.

"I've lost my heart too, Roddy. A man couldn't ask for a more gallant companion. Pluck to the backbone, that's you, my beautiful boy!"

I buried my head in his chest and hugged him tightly. He held me for a beat, then staggered to his feet, hauling me up beside him. "We'd better eat. I know we ain't got much appetite, but we'll need to keep up our strength. Then we'll turn in. Tomorrow will be here soon enough, and it will be a long day."

****

I was having the most marvelous dream. A hot, wet mouth was teasing my rigid prick. It sucked me down into a throat that seemed intent on swallowing me to the root. I moaned, and suddenly found my own mouth filled with a shaft that was oozing drops of precome. It tasted of my lover, and I licked avidly at it. My hands gripped muscular buttocks and traced the crevice that divided them.

The mouth released me, and I whimpered a protest, thrusting blindly forward, trying to find that heated cavern again. And then I was deep inside it once more. While lavish attention was being showered on my prick by that educated tongue, a wet finger stroked across my hole, pressing more urgently with each pass, until finally the tip had breached the tight muscle that guarded it.

I hummed with pleasure, and the vibration ran up the shaft in my mouth. The finger pushed in deeper, searching for that special spot within my passage, and I curled my knees about the head that bobbed between my thighs, giving my lover better access to me.

I managed to get my finger in my mouth next to the prick that filled it, and then withdrew it, searching for my lover's opening. For the first time, I slid my finger into him, and was enthralled by the hot, tight walls of his channel. He moaned, and my prick quivered in his mouth.

We both came swiftly after that, and I swallowed the hot, bitter fluid that filled my mouth. Charlie continued to suckle me until not a drop was left. He let me slip from his mouth and gently kissed the spent tip, then began to work his way up my body to my mouth. His tongue thrust in lazily, and I tasted myself on his lips.

I stared blindly up at the faint glow of the moon that just pierced the dense foliage above us. "Charlie?" I panted, trying to regain my breath. "That wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No, little Rev." He chuckled softly and pulled me into his embrace, so that his body surrounded me. He tugged up the blanket to cover us. "That was the real thing!"

****

The next day was more of the same, Charlie breaking his heart pulling the African Queen, I with my shoulder pressed to the stern, trying to force that old boat a few feet further.

And the leeches. Those horrible, *horrible* animals!

And then finally, we were stuck on a mud bank, and nothing we did could get her to budge.

Charlie was shivering, and I gave him a couple of quinine tablets from the first aid kit. "Rest for now, love."

"I'm sorry, little Rev. I'm a worthless excuse for a man."

"Charlie Allnutt, don't you dare speak that way about the man I love!" I never expected to declare my feelings quite like that. But somehow, it didn't matter. This man had gotten us almost to our prize, and I loved him, whether we succeeded or not!

"You love me, little Rev? Even though I failed you?"

I leaned over him and caressed his mouth with mine. A tear rolled down my cheek and splashed onto his lips. "You didn't fail, Charlie! You overdid it a little today, that's all. All you need is a few hours sleep. When you wake up, we'll be on our way."

He drew me to him, his arm holding me tightly. "We'll never get off this mud, sweetheart. We're finished."

"I know it," I said simply.

"Roddy, I'm not one bit sorry I came along! *I mean it*! Not *one* bit!" He ran his fingers through my hair, and kissed me. "I love you, little Rev. I've loved you for a ....very...long...time..."

The exertions of the day caught up with him, and he sank into a troubled slumber. I tucked the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and for the first time in quite some time, I sank to my knees to pray.

"Dear Lord, we've come to the end of our journey. In a little while, we'll stand before you. I pray for you to be merciful. Judge us not for our weakness, but for our love, and open the doors of heaven for Charlie and me."

Part 16

Warm lips on mine woke me.

"Good morning, little Rev!"

I blinked sleepily. "We're still alive?"

My lover grinned rakishly at me. "It sure looks like it! Take a look around, sweetheart, and then have a cup of tea!"

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. And rubbed my eyes again. "We're on the Lake!"

"Yes, we are! The rain did it!"

I rubbed my head vigorously, as if that would make my brain work better. "Beg pardon? It rained?"

"Up river," he laughed, sweeping me into a rib-crushing hug. "There was a flash flood and we've been washed down to the Lake! We couldn't have been more than a hundred yards from it last night!"

Suddenly wide-awake, I lurched to my feet. "Oh, please, Charlie, can we go out into the middle of it, right now?"

"Sure, little Rev. Sure." He handed me my tea, and went forward to fire up the engine. The Queen chugged obediently out of the reeds and grass and on into the huge expanse of the Lake.

I drew in a deep lungful of oxygen, and held it. "Oh, Charlie! This air! Isn't it wonderful?"

He returned to my side and kissed me. "It makes your blood race, your face numb and your spirits soar. Kind of like a belt of gin!" His eyes ran over my features, in an almost palpable caress. "God in heaven, how I love you, Roddy Sayer!"

"Charlie!" I nestled deeper into his embrace. "I thought you only said that because we were going to die, and you had somehow discovered how I felt."

"Well, no." His tone of voice was disgruntled. I ran my fingertips over the curve of his jaw, and sipped my tea, hiding a smile behind the cup. "You're very good at concealing your feelings! I thought, if anything, you liked me because I was your brother's friend."

I spewed a mouthful of tea all over my lover's shirtfront. "Sorry," I choked, trying to swallow my laughter and rubbing at the tea stain. "Charlie, I don't know how to tell you this, but...Brother did *not* see you as a friend!"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. You always did, though, didn't you?"

I sighed happily and nodded as I turned in his arms and watched the unencumbered blue of the sky. "Have you loved me a long time, Charlie?"

His hold tightened. "It certainly seems like it to me, little Rev. I had to stop coming around so often. Your brother caught me watching as you bent over to retrieve something from the floor. I thought he'd have an attack of apoplexy!"

"When was that?" Brother's temperament could often be choleric.

"Couple, three years back." He grinned. "I remember it like it was yesterday. Must have been right after the New Year."

I sucked in my breath sharply. I remembered that day, all too vividly. Brother found more fault than usual in everything I did, and it culminated in a caning that left me raw from my lower back to my knees. So that was the reason behind Brother's fury.

"Roddy?" Charlie's gaze was inquisitive. I knew I could never tell him that his interest in me had infuriated my brother's Christian sensibilities.

Instead, I smiled at him over my shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. "What would you have done with me, Charlie?" I asked flirtatiously.

"Little tease! I wanted to bend you over that table, peel down those trousers you were wearing, and have my wicked way with you!" He slipped a finger beneath my chin and urged my head around, then buried his fingers in my hair and pulled me close for a kiss that left my mouth feeling ravaged.

"Oh no!" His body went stiff at my back.

"What is it, love?"

He nodded toward the center of the Lake. Steaming toward us, looking for all the world like a monarch, was the Louisa. "We've got to make a run for it back to the reeds!"

I could feel the blood drain from my cheeks. "She's coming right towards us, Charlie!"

"Pray she hasn't seen us, little Rev. Pray real hard!" The reeds were before us, a seemingly impenetrable wall of green, and we slid into the channel from which we had so recently, and happily emerged.

The Louisa continued her approach as we shut down the African Queen's engine, and held our breaths, waiting to see if we had been spotted.

At the last possible minute, the hundred-ton ship veered to port and her wake washed against the Queen's sides. The old boat rocked wildly. "Jesus God, she has to be doing twelve knots! I thought for a second there we was goners!"

I swallowed hard. "Will she be back, Charlie?"

His eyes still on the huge steamship, my lover nodded. "She'll anchor there for the night and leave in the morning, but she'll be back. The Germans lay down systems and stick to them. One place on Monday, another on Wednesday, and back to the first location on Friday. Oh, yeah. She'll be back!"

"How long will it take to get the torpedoes ready, Charlie?"

"Sooner than they're going to like, little Rev! Let's see, this lake is a hundred miles long and fifty miles wide. At twelve knots that should bring her back here..." His eyes narrowed in concentration. "Day after tomorrow, most likely, little Rev!" He rubbed his hands together. "All right, then, let's get started on those torpedoes! And I've got an idea for the detonators."

"That's what I love about you, Charlie. You're so resourceful!"

"And you're a honey, little Rev!" He snatched a kiss and grabbed the first of the cylinders he'd need to work on. "Uh, I've been thinking." His tone was uneasy.

I wasn't paying attention. "Yes, love?" I should have been.

"Uh, Roddy, about taking the Queen up against the Louisa..."

"Yes? Charlie, I want to have the Queen all cleaned up, her brass polished and her decks scrubbed. She should be looking her best, don't you agree, considering that she'll be representing the King's navy?"

He didn't answer me. He was working on the cylinder industriously, filling it with blasting gelatin, and he avoided my eyes.

"Charlie?"

"I've been thinking that this should be a one-man job."

"Oh yes. I couldn't agree with you more, love."

"You do? Well, now. That's fine, little Rev. So, once we have everything ship-shape, I'll put you off on the opposite shore and take the African Queen out to meet the Louisa."

"Oh, no. I'll put *you* off and take the Queen out! And I'll join you and we'll be off to Kenya together."

"What?" He sputtered. "What?" My lover actually sputtered! "Why, you can't do that!"

"Of course I can." I became involved with searching out the Union Jack. I knew there was a British flag on board somewhere. "You said yourself I handle her very well."

"But ...but not well *enough*! Suppose she breaks down! You wouldn't know what to do!"

"She could break down just as easily for you!" I huffed. Ah! There it was! I pounced on the flag.
"I know how to handle this old tub! If she got cranky, I'd just spit on her, kick her in the slats a time or two, and she'd be running again as smooth as you please! You wouldn't have a chance! You'd be hopeless!"

"Hmmm." I thought about it carefully. "You may be right about that, Charlie."

He sighed in relief. "Of course I'm right! I knew you'd see reason!"

"Certainly. I'm a reasonable person. And you've made me see that this is a two-man job."

"*What*? Oh, no it ain't! Where do you get these ideas? You ain't coming with me, and that's all there is to it!"

We were toe to toe, and I thrust my chin out belligerently. "I'm coming!"

"Not yet, you're not, little Rev! But you soon will be! Only not on this boat!" The world seemed to go topsy-turvy, and then I was head down across my lover's knee.

I gave a cry of outrage. "Oh, no, Charlie Allnutt! You're not spanking me again! I put up with it when you tossed my clothes overboard, but if you strike me this time I'll..."

But his hand was already rising and falling in a steady rhythm. And, heaven help me, I was rising to the blows, actually rising up to meet them! My bum seemed to wriggle of its own accord, pleading for more of the tantalizing strokes, and my flesh warmed.

Charlie laughed softly, feeling the hardness of my shaft pressing against his thigh. Cries of affront had devolved into moans of excitement. With one last spank, he pulled off my unmentionables and bent me over the transom, probing my opening with a slick finger. In a twinkling, his coated prick was entering me.

"This is what I wanted to do to you in your brother's house!" he whispered hoarsely in my ear. "Jesus God, your ass is so hot, sweetheart! You're on fire for me!" While one hand stayed firm on my back, preventing me from moving, the other was rolling my balls between his fingers and fondling my shaft.

My fingers dug mindlessly into the transom, leaving indentations in the soft wood. He rammed his length into me again and again, until I was breathless from his possession, and silently begging for more. And then he began pouring himself into my passage. His climax triggered my own, and I filled his hand with the burning liquid of life.

Charlie lay on my back, still buried deep inside me. "Sweetheart," he said softly, "please let me put you ashore. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you!"

"And if something should happen to you? Don't you know I wouldn't want to go on to Kenya without you, Charlie?" I bit back a sob. I wasn't a fool. I knew the odds were not good. I may not have realized that when we first started out on this journey, but I knew it now. "'Entreat me not to leave thee, or to refrain from following after thee...'"

"'For whither thou goest...'?" He slid out of me and turned me into his arms. "In that case, little Rev, I think maybe you'd better marry me."

Part 17

"Roddy?"

"Yes, love?"

"My God, I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing you call me that!" My lover strolled over to where I sat propped against the side of the African Queen, sewing on the last of the buttons that fastened my unmentionables.

"Next time Charlie, please take the time to unbutton this. It won't stand any more manhandling!" I teased gently.

"When we get to Nairobi, I'll buy you a whole new kit!" He observed me intently. "Now, what's caused that frown?" he asked as he ran his thumb over my brows.

"I didn't think to take any money from the mission, Charlie! I know Brother must have had some in order to purchase supplies. I'm sorry. That was stupid of me."

"You're *not* stupid, Roddy! A lot happened that day, and anyone would have forgotten something as inconsequential as money in a situation like that!" Charlie walked over to the compartment where he had stored my carpetbag. "Have you looked at your Bible since the day you were so cross with me that you gave me the silent treatment, little Rev?"

"No. There has been so much to do. I know I've sadly neglected my prayers as well," I added apologetically. "Our Heavenly Father will not be pleased with me when I stand before His throne." A sigh gusted through me.

"Maybe not, little Rev, but He's looking out for you right enough down here!" Charlie pulled out the big Book and began leafing through it. When he came to Revelations, a slim leather envelope slid out and landed on the deck with a soft plop.

"What's this?" I asked curiously.

"I'd say this is your brother's bank!"

"*Beg pardon*?" Sure enough, the packet contained a number of banknotes. Dumbly, I looked into my lover's interested eyes. "There must be about fifty pounds here! How did you know?"

"I came across it when I was looking for some spiritual comfort one particularly lonely night." His smile was suddenly tired. "We're not going to be able to take the Book with us, you know."

My fingers closed convulsively on the big Bible for a long moment before I loosed my grip. I smoothed my palm over the cover, and then held it to my chest. "Will you hold onto the money for me, Charlie?"

He patted his waist. "I've got a moneybelt."

"I don't remember seeing that on you before," I remarked.

"Didn't need to wear it before. But it's waterproof, and if there's anything you need out of the Bible, I can carry that for you as well." He tucked the wallet into the pouch.

It broke my heart to desecrate that Book. It had been in our family for almost two hundred years. I dropped to my knees and opened it to the front, where a family tree listed the births, marriages and deaths of all the Sayers who had belonged to it.

"Have you a pen and ink, Charlie?" I asked, as I used a knife to carefully slice those pages out of the book.

"Sure. I need to keep a log of my supplies and all the repairs this old boat has to have. *Had* to have. Won't be needing to do that any longer." His eyes grew sad at the thought of losing the African Queen.

"May I borrow them, Charlie?"

He rummaged through a storage locker and handed me the implements. The ink was thick and sluggish, made from native plants. I dipped the pen into it and began writing, meticulously placing the date he died next to Brother's name.

"What's today's date, Charlie? I've lost all track of time."

"Why, I couldn't really say, little Rev. We've been on the river such a long time, it seems. Is it important?"

I looked up at him from where I sat on the deck. "I suppose not. But I wanted to enter the date of my wedding, and my groom's name."

"Oh! Oh, my! Roddy!" He knelt beside me and wrapped his arms around me. "That's the nicest thing that anyone's ever done for me! I can't believe you'd want to do that!"

I leaned into him. "Silly!" I nuzzled his chin. "Why wouldn't I put your name in my Bible?"

"Sweetheart, I'm just a worthless..."

"Charlie, you're the man I love." I sighed and worried the end of the pen between my teeth.

"If it means that much to you, little Rev, just pick out a date, and that will have to do us."

"Could we?" The thought was so daring. Not go by the calendar? I held my breath, awaiting my lover's pronouncement.

"Roddy, we're two men who are going to pledge our lives to each other. I guess we can do just about anything we want!"

"All right, then. I'll make our wedding day October thirty-first!"

"Um, little Rev, that's Halloween!"

"It's also Samhain. Nanny told me about how the Celts celebrated that day. It has always seemed to me to be a very interesting occasion."

"But that's a pagan holiday!"

"Well, yes. I think I'd really prefer Boxing Day, but that was more than more than three months away when you took me from the mission. I don't think we've been on the river for that long." Painstakingly I inscribed the date, 31 October 1914, and his name, Charles Allnutt. I blew on the page until the ink was dry, and then folded it and gave it to my lover.

Charlie placed it in his moneybelt, and tucked the pouch into his trousers.

"I take it this means I won't be getting a wedding night?" I asked.

"Afraid not, little Rev. The torpedoes are ready. I just need to get the detonators in place, which might be a little tricky in the dark. We're heading out, just after sundown!" The Louisa had shown up right on schedule, and was anchored for the night.

My mouth went dry, and suddenly I was afraid. But I couldn't let Charlie see me like that. "Well, then, Mr. Allnutt, I'm afraid I'll have to insist you make an honest man of me."

It was meant to be a joke, to lighten the tension that was tying my stomach in knots, but Charlie took me seriously. He took something from his pocket and held out his hand. On his palm were two rings, woven from the grasses that grew down to the Lake's edge. "This is the best I can do right now, sweetheart." He took my left hand and looked into my eyes.

"With this ring I take you, Roddy, to be lawfully mine. With my body I thee worship. I'll love and cherish you, and be true to you for the rest of my life." He slipped the ring on my finger. Suddenly, I could understand why women wept at weddings.

I took my lover's hand and repeated the words he had spoken, altering them only slightly. "I'll love you and cherish you, and be true to you for as long as there is breath in my body, Charlie, and beyond that, until the end of time!" And I put the ring of grass on him.

The kiss we shared was chaste, for about a heartbeat. I couldn't resist sliding my tongue into his mouth, and when he sucked on it, I moaned and reached for him.

His arms held me tightly, and I could feel the heat and hardness of him. Then he stepped back, holding me at arm's length. Darkness had fallen, and it was time to carry out our mission.

****

Charlie wedged the detonators into place, going by feel alone as clouds scudded across the moon, dimming her light. We wrestled the awkward cylinders into the holes we had chopped into the Queen's hull, just above the water line.

From out of nowhere, a wicked, deadly storm was brewing. As we backed the old boat out of the reeds, it started blowing up quite a bit.

The wind howled like a soul tormented, tearing at our clothing.

The skies opened, and rain began to fall. Waves driven by those banshee winds washed up over the African Queen's sides, and the weight of the cylinders tugged the bow even further down, allowing water in through the holes.

"It's hard to steer, Charlie!" I shouted over the wail of the winds.

"We've got to get her nose up! There's too much water in the bow!"

As I fought with the tiller, my love grappled with the ungainly boxes of supplies and blasting gelatin, staggering across the slippery deck to redistribute the ballast. Too many times to count he went down to his knees, and it was too dark to see if it was blood or merely rain that soaked his trouser legs.

"We're sinking!" Charlie dropped the last of the boxes, seized a life preserver and managed to get to my side.

I could no longer keep the Queen into the wind, and an especially vicious wave hit us broadside. The old boat trembled convulsively, and then listed to her side, taking on even more water. Charlie shoved the preserver into my arms, holding me as he made sure I got my shoulders through the ring.

Slowly, gracefully, she capsized, floating bottom up in that caldron.

We were clinging to the shaft that Charlie had worked so hard to straighten when we were struck one last time by a wave that was so mountainous it seemed to block out the entire world. Charlie reached for my outstretched hand, our fingertips grazing, but I was swept away from him.

I could hear his anguished cries. "Roddy! Roddy!"

I opened my mouth to respond and was slapped in the face by a wall of water. I gagged and choked, retching violently on it. I tried to strike out toward where I had last seen my life's partner, but at that moment, something struck me in the head, and I was sucked down into blackness.

****

It was hours later that I regained my senses. The Lake was once again calm. The clouds were parted to reveal the scattered stars. And I was alone.

Part 18

Charlie was gone.

Once I regained consciousness, I swam and dove, and dove again, desperate to find some sign of the man I loved. All I found were a few pieces of wood, all that was left of the African Queen. Of her captain, there was nothing. Not even the ring that symbolized our union. That last wave had torn it from my finger.

I cursed the Lake in a dull monotone until a German lifeboat returning from shore with a supply of fresh water picked me up.

I lay in the bottom of the lifeboat, in the scummy water that had accumulated there. The young underlieutenant who sat above me watched me disdainfully.

"Vhas iss your nationality?" he asked haughtily. "French? Belgium? British?"

"I'm British," I said wearily.

"Vhat vere you doing on the Lake?"

"I was boating."

He leaned down and slapped me sharply across the face. Compared to the talons of loss that were ripping the heart out of me, this was nothing, and I didn't even flinch.

"You know, the punishment for giving false testimony to an officer in the navy of Kaiser Wilhelm is death by hanging!"

"Should that mean anything to me? You asked what I was doing, I told you. I cannot help it if you do not believe me!"

I could hear him grinding his teeth. He reached down and wound his fingers in the neck of my unmentionables, then dragged me up to face him. "You are a very pretty boy!" he growled. "Perhaps it vould be interesting to see you on your knees!"

"As a British citizen, and as such a representative of his majesty, King George V, I bend the knee to no one!" I snapped back at him. To my utter horror, he lowered his mouth to mine, licking across the seam of my lips and seeking access to my tongue.

I realized the meaning behind his words. My eyes flashed up to his, and he froze at what he saw in them. "Know this, Hun!" I snarled. "Put something in my mouth that I do not specifically request," and here I glanced down to the front of his trousers. "And I will bite it off!"

Carefully he drew back. "I could haff you killed for your defiance!"

"You would be doing me a favor!"

****

The young lieutenant urged me up the ladder onto the deck of the Louisa. She was a huge ship, blindingly white. Dark skinned natives, the naval equivalent of the askaris, bustled about, doing whatever it was that needed to be done, and paid me little attention.

One of the German sailors rushed down from a cabin on the upper deck. He edged the underlieutenant aside, glanced nervously at me and whispered frantically in his ear.

"Vas there another man with you?" the officer demanded.

"*What*? Charlie? *Charlie*!" I tried to get to the stairs leading up, but the lieutenant seized my arm and jerked me to a halt.

At the door to the cabin, a man appeared. "Roddy! Roddy!" He was dragged back into the cabin.

"My Captain vill vish to speak vith you. Do not be insolent to him! He vill have no qualms about hanging you twice, I think!"

I didn't waste time sneering at the underlieutenant. "Take me up to him!"

He shoved me toward the stairs, following closely behind. I was almost at the top when I felt a sly hand insinuating itself under the leg opening of my unmentionables and a long finger stroking over my balls. I halted abruptly and turned. The lieutenant grinned evilly at me, and held his hands palms toward me. "No harm, English."

"Of course not, Hun." I turned to resume walking up the stairs, but apparently stumbled. I made sure my shoulder caught him in the chest. He lost his balance, and with a cry fell all the way to the lower deck, hitting his head so hard he knocked himself out. "Charlie!" I hurried to the captain's office.

"Who is that man?" the captain demanded of the man I loved. Charlie was on his knees before the German's desk, blood seeping slowly from a cut lip, and a livid bruise standing out on his cheek.

"I...I don't know."

"You called him by name!"

"I thought he was someone else."

"Charlie!" I threw myself at him, hugging him tightly, barely stopping myself from pressing kisses over his cheek and jaw. It would be dangerous to let the Hun know of our relationship. "You're alive! You're alive!"

A sailor grabbed my arm and pulled me away. His grip on me tightened at the Captain's signal, and I couldn't get back to Charlie.

"Who are you?" the Captain growled.

I tipped up my chin and looked down my nose at him. I had often seen Brother regard his native converts in just such a way. "Rodney Sayer!"

The Captain seemed to have trouble controlling his ire. "You are English?"

"Of course!" Was the man stupid, or was it just that he was a German?

Charlie got painfully to his feet, and I could see more bruises through the tears on his shirt. "I ain't told 'em nothing, little Rev!"

That earned him a scowl. "Vhat vere you doing on the Lake?"

I glared at the German. "We were boating."

"Last night? In such veather?"

I remembered how Nanny could stare down a tradesman who displeased her, and I arranged my features to look as if I smelled something decidedly unappetizing. "We were not responsible for the weather!"

"If you do not give me an honest answer, I vill have you hung too!" the Captain shouted, pounding on his desk.

"They're going to hang you, Charlie?" I was aghast, and struggled in vain to get free of the sailor's hold on me. Charlie shrugged. And that hollow feeling returned to my stomach. I turned to the stout man. "Very well, ask your questions!"

"Roddy!"

I turned on my partner. "Let's at least have the pleasure of telling him what we were going to do!"

"Vhy are you here?"

"We came to sink this ship!"

"Sink this ship?" The Captain repeated it as if he were having trouble understanding the simple statement.

"Roddy, shut *up*!" My love was beside himself, thinking of the noose into which I was putting my neck.

"If you think I'm going to outlive you, Charlie Allnutt, you've got another think coming!"

"How vere you going to sink this ship?" the Captain demanded.

"Torpedoes!"

The Captain regarded me in disbelief, unable to accept what I told him. "Vhere and how did you acquire torpedoes?" He sat down behind his desk and picked up a pencil, beating out a restless tattoo.

"Mr. Allnutt made them!" I declared proudly. "Tell him how, Charlie!"

Charlie swaggered forward and hooked his thumbs in the waist of his trousers. "Well, you see, I took the heads off two cylinders of oxygen. Then I filled them with explosives, about two hundred weight. That was easy enough. It was figuring out the detonators that was the hard part."

"But Charlie did it!" I inserted. "Go on, tell him, Charlie!" I encouraged. Irritated by the sailor's grip on my arm, I shook free of him and joined my life's partner where he stood, facing the German.

Charlie grinned at me fondly, then turned back to the Captain. "I used cartridges and nails, and blocks of soft wood. The ends of the nails would hit the percussion caps and shoot the bullets into the blasting gelatin."

"You vere going to sink this ship?"

"And we would have succeeded too, only ... the African Queen sank in the storm last night," I concluded morosely.

"This is impossible! Tell me the truth! How did you get onto this Lake?"

"We came down the Ulanga. The Bora, you call it down here."

"That is impossible!"

"Never. The. Less!"

"That river in innavigable!"

I was tired of arguing with the pompous man, and I turned to bury my face in Charlie's chest.

"Yeah, well, we did it, and in the African Queen!" my love snapped, his arm holding me secure against his body, even as he winced when I inadvertently pressed against a tender spot.

"Vhat kind of craziness is this? Hang them! Hang them both!"

"Uh, Captain, I got one last request."

"Vhat?" the German regarded him suspiciously.

"Give the boy a pair of trousers. Ain't no need for him to die like a heathen!"

The Captain's lips tightened, but he nodded to one of his sailors, and a pair of trousers was produced for me. They were a trifle large, but I was grateful for the shield they would provide from the interested glances I had been getting. As I climbed into them, I said, "I have a last request also, Captain."

"You are prisoners! I do not haff to do anything!" The stout man threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, very vell! Vhat?"

"Hang us together."

"Little Rev!" Charlie gripped my hand, and spoke softly, so that the words went no further than the small space we occupied. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't think it would end like this."

They marched us down to the lower deck and flung nooses around our necks. I was determined to show them how an Englishman died. I stood erect, closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.

At a time like this, I should have been making my peace with my maker, but instead, my thoughts were filled with the man at my side and the love he had brought to my life.

A sailor behind each of us took our arms and placed them behind our backs.

Before they could tie our hands behind us, it grew very still, as if time itself had ceased to move, and then there was a tremendous explosion. Everyone froze, watching in dismay as a curl of black smoke began reaching for the sky. The first explosion was followed closely by another, and the Louisa began to list to starboard.

Sailors, German and native alike, threw themselves over the side and into the water, desperately seeking to leave the sinking ship.

"Charlie?"

He got the ropes off our necks and grabbed the mast as the ship slid deeper into the water. "It's the Queen, little Rev! She sank the Louisa!"

Well, Jesus God! We had done it!

Part 19

The Governor of British East Africa pinned a very pretty medal onto the lapel of the white suit Charlie was wearing, treating him as the leader of our expedition, which was only right. Then he did the same to me.

"Gentlemen, His Majesty, King George, offers his heartfelt gratitude for your selfless act of heroism in coming down the Ulanga to the Bora, and destroying the German steamer, Konigin Louisa, thus enabling His Majesty's troops to effect an action that will cut off the German supply line and aid us in ending this war that much sooner."

He shook our hands, bade us call on him if we should have need of anything during our stay in his capital, and then retreated back into Government House, leaving us to our own devices.

We began to explore the capital.

We hadn't gone very far when, "I say! You there!"

Glancing over our shoulders to see who was thus addressed, we saw a portly, fair-haired man who was hurrying toward us. He signaled for us to halt and we waited for him to catch up with us. "Yes?" Charlie asked.

"Are you the two gentlemen who came down the Ulanga from Kungdu?"

"Yes," Charlie repeated.

"I'll give you five hundred pounds to get me to Kungdu!"

"Impossible!" Charlie said shortly.

"Why would you want to go there, sir?" I demanded. "There's nothing in Kungdu but ash!"

"I must get there! I must see Chuffy!"

"Beg pardon?" There was no Englishman by that name in Kungdu.

"Chuffy?" Charlie cocked an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged.

"He runs the missionary there! Samuel Sayer!"

"I'm his brother, sir." I extended my hand. "Roddy Sayer. This is my ... close friend, Mr. Allnutt, who got me safely down from Kungdu."

"I'm Bishop Morton. Surely your brother has spoken of me? Herbie Morton?"

"Never, sir." Although I was getting a very strong suspicion of what had passed between my brother and this man, the more so since I had come to belong to Charlie. And I remembered his name on Brother's lips as he lay dying.

"We were...very close in England. I've come to take Chuffy back home with me. My wife is ill, and I need someone to help me care for my flock!"

I was shaking my head. "Impossible, sir. I regret to tell you that Samuel is dead."

He gave a cry of horror. "He can't be dead!" He seized my shirtfront and began shaking me. "You lie! You lie!"

My partner stepped between the distraught Bishop and me, getting me free. "You will not manhandle this young man, sir. You're obviously not well." He signaled to a soldier who had been watching the scene unfold with interest.

"Yes sir, Mr. Allnutt?"

"Do I know you?" Charlie asked.

"No, sir. But I seen you at the Palace this morning, and there ain't a one of our boys who won't bless you in their prayers tonight for doing in the Louisa!"

My lover's cheeks darkened with embarrassment at the praise. "Thank you, Sergeant. Would you see that Bishop Morton gets to his hotel? He seems to be ill."

"Yes, sir. It'll be a right treat to do a favor for you, Mr. Allnutt. And you too, young Mr. Sayer."

So saying, the soldier led the devastated cleric away. We could still hear the Bishop's moans, "*Not* dead! Dear God, I hadn't the time to make it up to him!"

I watched after them with interest, as Charlie straightened my clothing. Deciding we needed nourishment, he took me to a bar he frequented on those rare occasions when he was in Nairobi. It was dim, redolent with the odor of hops. The food was decent, and the beer, the first time I had ever drunk any, intrigued my palate.

Before I could indulge myself overmuch, Charlie paid our bill and suggested we go for a stroll in the cool of the evening.

Twirling the walking stick he had purchased along with our suits, tipping his hat and bowing slightly to any lady we happened to pass, we were on the promenade, something of which I had read, but never dreamed I would do.

Such an elegant word, for such a commonplace activity. I was thrilled, and squeezed my lover's arm, wanting to cling to it in my excitement, but knowing such an action would be frowned upon.

"Ah, Charlie, we're men about town!"

He smiled indulgently at me. "That we are, sweetheart!" he said in a quiet undertone. "Who ever would have thought?"

We walked on in silence, recalling the aftermath of the sinking of the Louisa.

****

We had made it to the East shore of the Lake and clambered onto the land.

And found ourselves face to face with a contingent of British soldiers who had been dispatched to find a way to destroy the Louisa so troops could cross the Lake and cut off the German supply line. And I don't know who was the more surprised.

They stood there, mouths agape, as the large vessel, with one final explosion, sank beneath the waters of the Lake.

Charlie and I leaned into each other, endeavoring to recover from our swim to safety.

The young captain looked us over carefully. "Are you German?" he asked quite loudly, as if, were we that nationality, we would better be able to understand him.

"Not on ... your life ... sir!" Charlie panted cheerfully. "We're as... British as you are! Charlie Allnutt, late of the African Queen. And this is my...passenger, Roddy Sayer."

I understood the need for this slight deception, and said nothing, beyond a brief, "How do you do?"

The officer shook Charlie's hand, then reached for mine. "Captain Thomas Fortescue-Smythe of the _th, at your service, gentlemen. Might I offer you the amenities of my camp?" He assigned a detail to search for any survivors and led us inland. "The African Queen, you say? I'm sorry, the name isn't familiar to me."

"She was a thirty foot steamer. I ran supplies to the Belgium mine up river." Charlie had his hands stuffed in his pockets, the better to keep them off me. I knew how he felt. I wanted him in my body in the worst way, but I knew it might be quite some time before we would be able to enjoy the wedding night we had been forced to forego.

"The only Belgium mine I'm aware of is the one at the mouth of the Ulanga." That brought him up short, and his mouth dropped open at Charlie's nod of confirmation. "But...you mean to say you came down that bloody horrid river?"

"Exactly, Captain. You call it the Bora here in Kenya, I believe. It needed to be done and we did it."

"It needed to be done you say, Mr. Allnutt? Why is that?"

Charlie nodded toward me. "He's the only survivor of the mission at Kungdu." His sentiment warmed me. The fact that he wanted to avenge my loss made me feel cherished, and I longed to have him make passionate love to me.

We entered the large encampment. Clean, organized, eminently British. "Kungdu, you say? Oh, now that is a coincidence. Got a religious chap at Nairobi, chaffing at the bit to get there. Told him we couldn't oblige, what with the war going on, and all."

****

I thought fondly of Tommy. He had seen that we were given a good meal and clean clothes before sending a detail of men to see we got safely to Nairobi. He also offered me the loan of his tent, and his body along with it, but when he realized that I was with Charlie, he graciously rescinded the overture. I was afraid my love would be upset by the young captain's proposition, but Charlie just smiled, and declared no harm was done.

The hotel where we had rooms was a rather nondescript place, with the pretentious name The Duke of York. It boasted its own dining room, although the fare there was mediocre, Charlie assured me. However, at the back of the building was a long, teakwood bar that offered all the latest cocktails, as well as the usual manner of hard liquor. This night it was crowded with men who came there to learn the latest news of the war. The atmosphere was hot and humid from the crush of bodies.

Charlie ordered a gin for himself, and a beer for me. He lit a cheroot, holding it negligently between his fingers as the native bartender brought us our drinks. "This is very good, love!" I found that I really enjoyed the taste of beer, and downed it quickly. I had another while Charlie was still working on his first gin.

While my partner asked questions about the situation up country, I slipped the cheroot from his fingers and put it between my lips, sliding it in and out of my mouth to get the taste of it.

Some of the smoke trickled into my throat, and I coughed on it, only then seeing the way Charlie was watching me, his eyes hot. I returned the cheroot to him meekly, and took a gulp of my beer. It went down the wrong way, and I choked.

"I think maybe you've had enough, little Rev. We'd better go up to our rooms now," he said softly, and chuckled at the vivid blush that colored my cheeks.

I tipped the beer back and gulped it so fast that some of it dribbled down my chin. Charlie reached over and caught the errant drops with his thumb, then languidly sucked them into his mouth. He dropped his eyes to the front of my trousers. Suddenly they were uncomfortably snug.

I glanced around, fearing we might be observed, but the war news seemed to be holding everyone else's attention.

He left some money for the bartender and gathered up his hat and stick and led me to the stairs. The cooler air in the lobby struck me, and I swayed slightly back and forth as the beer went to my head. "Why's the room moving, Charlie? We're not back on the African Queen, are we?"

Charlie slid an arm around my waist. "My mate is a trifle disguised," he remarked casually to a gimlet-eyed matron and her companion.

"I am your mate, aren't I, Charlie?" I smiled tipsily at the stout woman as I tried to put my foot on a step that wasn't there. "Oops. Missed!" I dissolved into giggles.

"Humph!" The woman sounded affronted.

"Oh, come now, dear. He's just a lad!" her companion stated mildly.

"All the more reason..." Her diatribe faded as Charlie got me to our floor and down the hall that housed our rooms.

I began to sing softly. "I changed my mind so you could wed your Barnacle Bill the Sailor...'M I drunk, Charlie?" I asked.

"I'd say so, little Rev. Stay put, would you?" He propped me against the wall and reached into his pocket for the key. "Whoops!" I was sliding toward the floor, and he caught my coattail and prevented me from landing on my face. "All right, sweetheart, in you go!"

I staggered into the room. "Bed, ho!" I cried, and staggered to the brass bed that occupied the far wall. I fell across it face down. The mattress, soft as a cloud, gave gently beneath me, and I was out like a light.

****

The feel of a rough-knapped bolster being placed under my thighs woke me. "Charlie?"

The ceiling fan turned lazily, moving the air so that it caressed my naked body. Fingers traced the line of my spine from the base of my skull to my tailbone, before dipping between my buttocks and teasing my hole. I wriggled voluptuously. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"That feels nice!" I sighed. "Why am I naked? And why can't I move my hands and legs?"

"Well, you're naked because I removed all your clothes. And I'd say you can't move because you're tied up."

"I'm tied up?" I repeated, trying to rise up through the layers of cotton that seemed to have enveloped my brain. "Who tied me up?"

"I did. I think we've waited long enough to have our wedding night!"

Suddenly I was completely aware of my surroundings. Soft ties fastened my wrists and ankles to the brass bed frame, leaving me positioned in an X, helpless and vulnerable to whatever my lover might choose to do to me. That notion was more intoxicating than the beer had been.

The bolster, wedged beneath me, angled my hips so that my buttocks were high off the bed. I would be unable to find relief by thrusting against the mattress, for my prick could not reach it. It was jutting upward, surrounded by nothing but air.

I ground my hips forward, to no avail, and earned a hard spank.

"Are you very angry with me for getting drunk, Charlie?"

He walked to the side of the bed so I could see him if I raised my head. "No, actually, I'm rather pleased. This gives me the perfect opportunity to administer a little discipline." His eyes were on my mouth, and he reached up and removed his tie and collar.

"What..." I was so excited I could barely utter the words. "What are you going to do?"

His fingers went to his trouser buttons. "You enjoyed having that cheroot in your mouth. How about something else?" He took his prick out of his pants. Already fiercely erect, with precome leaking from the tip, he brought his shaft toward me.

I gasped, so aroused I wanted nothing more than him fucking me long and hard, and he slid his prick into my mouth. Rocking gently, so that he wouldn't hurt my throat, he gradually gave me more and more of his shaft.

While I was busy sucking on that tasty morsel, he watched me with a heated gaze, unbuttoning his shirt and removing it. My eyes widened, my lips parted in surprise, and his prick dropped from my mouth. "Charlie!" I whispered hoarsely. "You aren't wearing any undergarments!"

"I'm not, am I?" He let his trousers slide to the floor and stepped out of them. "My beautiful boy!" he sighed as he ran his fingers over my hair.

I was just able to see him take a small jar from the nightstand, and then he settled himself on the bed, between my outstretched legs. I craned my head to see what he would do, but the strain became too great on my neck, and I was forced to drop my head to the mattress.

A hard palm landed on the curve of my bum, and I jumped. I tensed, but nothing happened. Just as I was starting to relax, another blow fell. And that set the pattern. I lost track of the number of spanks I received, but I was wiggling toward the hand that dealt my punishment, needing more of that exquisite torment.

Teeth bit down gently and worried the heated flesh, and then something warm and damp licked across my burning bum, soothing it, until lips closed over it and began to suck hard on the flesh of my buttocks.

Moaning and writhing, I pleaded with my love to fuck me and end this torture.

Instead, his fingers parted my buttocks, and his tongue traced a path through the crevice to my puckered opening. Pressing forward, he wasn't satisfied until the muscle surrendered and allowed him to enter. I began to keen.

"Hush, sweetheart! You'll have us thrown out of here!" But Charlie was laughing. He rose from the bed and found a shirt to stuff in my mouth. "Bite down on that, little Rev." Mindlessly, I obeyed him, and was able to stifle the ballad of pleasure that spilled from my lips.

Charlie climbed back between my thighs and when next something touched me intimately, it was his fingers slicked with whatever lotion was in the little jar. Carefully, he inserted a finger into me, but I was so randy at that point that not much preparation was needed.

A prick that felt like the iron shaft of the African Queen challenged my hole to keep him out. I tightened the muscle, just enough to let him know I was determined to make him pay for driving me mad with desire. It was a good thing he had found something for me to bite down on, for the howl I gave when he left me with no choice but to yield to him would have brought the watch down on us.

Charlie stopped, afraid that he had done me damage. "Sweetheart, did I hurt you?"

I couldn't speak past the cloth in my mouth, so shook my head savagely. And he laughed in relief and started the rhythm that would push me to the edge. He kept it slow and gentle, making sure he brushed that spot inside that set me afire only every other stroke.

Finally, taking pity on my sad state, he reached around and grasped my weeping shaft in his hand. He stepped up the pace of his prick in my ass, hitting that spot every time now, and my inner muscles clenched, and I whined around the shirt that stuffed my mouth. I came violently, spurting over his hand, my chest and the bed. At the same time he poured himself into my well-used passage, scalding me with his heat.

And I fell asleep like that, tied to the bed, my bum in the air, his prick buried deep in it. And peace in my heart.

The next time I awoke, my lover was freeing my hands, having already freed my legs. As he removed the bolster, I cuddled bonelessly into the mattress, only to find myself in the wet spot.

"Charlie!" I moaned. "What are we going to do? The bedspread will be stained, and we'll be thrown out of here!"

Sadness swept over me. I had forgotten that scrap of blue wool on the African Queen, that scrap that comforted me, and allowed me something to pour myself into whenever I was able to stroke myself to completion away from Brother's unforgiving eye.

And I was ashamed. We had brought about the destruction of the Louisa, and escaped with our lives. How selfish to mourn that bit of my childhood.

Charlie leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth. "Not to worry, little Rev. I saw to that last night before I laid you out so temptingly on this bed. I put something under you!"

"You're a genius, Charlie!" I sighed with relief. "What did you use?"

"Something you were leaving behind on the Queen. Something I knew you would miss, so I tucked it in a pocket and brought it with me! Roll over and see for yourself."

I looked at him curiously, but did as he bid.

"Oh! Oh!" I couldn't catch my breath. "Oh, Charlie! My blue blanket!"

~End~