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Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys 129 Queen Mary Bell-boys by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn’t your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you’ve come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable – you’re in the right place. Don’t leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty – these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. fty/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 129 When the US Government switched us from carrying troops to the Pacific war we reverted to our old stamping ground: the North Atlantic. From early 1943 onwards we carried GIs to Britain. We had no idea then that they would be there training for the D-Day invasion well over a year later. We broke all records on an eastward crossing in July 1943, but that’s a separate story. I have to go back a bit first. Our first trip carrying GIs was immediately after the refit in Boston. We left for Australia in a freezing February 1942 with over 8000 soldiers. Catering for that many was a huge undertaking, but after a chaotic first few days they – and we – settled into a routine. By then we were only feeding them twice a day, and they ate in a non-stop process which kept Ryan and Charlie (and dozens of others) on the go for 12 hours at a time. The senior officers had very sensibly decided that cafeteria eating was not for them, so we served around 80 of them as we had done for 15 months, in one of the big bars. It was made clear right from the word go that they would require fewer crew members waiting on them that we’d been providing for Empire officers, and the number was reduced to just four, and I wasn’t one of them. I’m glad in a way, because during the first two days I think I probably worked a more exhausting shift than I had ever worked before, but even in two days I discovered a lot about how to save a few seconds here and a few seconds there – things which would make a difference in later life. That first night Charlie and I flopped into bed at around 2030 utterly whacked, and with no energy even to go to the canteen for a restorative beer. Sex of course was completely out of the question. We didn’t even have the energy to envy Sam and Tim, who at least were accustomed to their daily routines. It was a great stroke of luck, therefore, that Richard – one of the four waiters serving the officers – slipped over in the galley in a rough sea at around 1300 on the third day and managed to gouge a lump out of his forearm. Blood everywhere, including on the tray of food he was carrying. The head chef bellowed in rage while less irate chefs took the necessary actions. One rang the hospital demanding a doctor “right now before he bleeds to death”; a second patiently gathered up the gory grub and got three or four colleagues to “whip up something quickly”; and Ryan – bless him – told me I was promoted. “Get your apron off and get in there. You know how it works.” There were about 50 men in there, although the tables were set for quite a lot more. I discovered (by the simple expedient of keeping my ears open) that the senior officer – a colonel – wasn’t there. Nor were 20 or so lesser mortals – I found they were in the canteen, not eating, but making sure that their men behaved themselves. I was surprised by this, because when it was Aussies or whatever the officers left this kind of thing to the sergeants and corporals, but maybe the Americans did things differently. I found out that it wasn’t always the same 20 who had this task: they rotated. So the men eating varied from one day to the next. (Dinner was different. The top dozen or so officers ate at one table; the others ate somewhere else – I never bothered finding out where.) That lunch time the main item of conversation was that one of the junior officers (not present, from what they were saying) had had a row with ‘some nigger’. Having come across this casual way of speaking it didn’t get my attention initially. However as the conversation developed it became clear that the nigger in question was a crew member, and could only have been Prince. My ears became vastly more attentive as I quietly went round collecting plates. I stood by the servery waiting to see what would be borne in, a few minutes late but mercifully bloodless. Steaks appeared – always a quick solution to a catering crisis – and the head waiter indicated to the senior officer that the gentlemen might care to approach the hot table to select their choice, “rare to the left, medium to the right.” Naturally no barbaric ‘well-done’ was served on Queen Mary. I armed ataköy escort myself with a tray of vegetables and waited until it was worth going round. “And this nigger gave Lance a whole mouthful.” “What the hell for?” “Three of our boys, from the Deep South from the sound of it, hazed one of our niggers and spilled his food tray for him. The Limey nigger spoke up for the black kid and said that Lance should have stood up for him.” “Jeez. What happened?” “Dunno. Lance got summoned by the Colonel. I look forward to hearing all about it.” A great deal of grinning spread round the table among those within earshot. I gathered that Lance wasn’t the most popular officer, although if some of the others were calling Prince a nigger they may well have felt that Lance had nothing to answer for. By the end of the meal this Lance person hadn’t appeared and the topic seemed to have run its course. I resolved to find Prince at the earliest opportunity. He was nowhere to be seen in the cafeteria or in the galley. I asked around, but no-one had seen him. This wasn’t surprising as the routines were still a bit chaotic – people were sent to where they were needed, and it wasn’t until four or five days into the voyage that things settled down, and crew members had pretty fixed responsibilities. I gave up the hunt: he would turn up sooner or later. ***** It wasn’t until after 1700, when the flow of troops being fed had dried up, that Prince appeared. I’d asked Graham to alert me when he showed up, and he put his head round the door. We were still sleeping as we had done before George and Vincent left us: Charlie, Sam, Tim and I were in Cabin 1, with the other four in Cabin 2. The sling occupied Cabin 4 and Cabin 3 wasn’t used any more for sleeping: we’d turned it into where we ate and drank after hours. So Prince would head to Cabin 2 when he came off duty, and I might not hear him. “You’ll love this,” Graham said when he appeared soon after. I’ve told you his story already, but at that time it was all new to me. I was impressed that he’d stayed calm and controlled while Will was hearing the story – I would have found that difficult in his position. “Will made me wait outside while he sent for their Colonel, so I have no idea what was said, but five minutes after he went in the door opened and Will beckoned me in. ‘This is Prince, Colonel Jenks,’ he said. Colonel Jenks said nice things, and he shook my hand. He said it was a shame that it needed an Englishman to open his eyes to what went on between some of the whites and the blacks. I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut. Then he asked Will if I could be sent to work alongside him – this big American officer – to take messages and stuff. ‘It will show my officers and men that I won’t tolerate racial abuse’, he said. I was shocked, but really proud. Will asked me if I wanted to do that, and I think the look on my face must have told him. I’m to report to the Colonel at 1800. I’ll still sleep here though.” “Well done,” I said, “that must make you feel really good.” He grinned. “Yeah. This Colonel’s a straight guy.” He went off to share the news with the others. I felt proud of him: he’d matured so much since coming back. The officers’ dinner was at 1900, so at 1815 I reported to Ryan again. “You’ll be permanently in there,” he said. Richard is no use to us here, so he’s been posted somewhere else until his arm heals. The doc says it’ll be at least 2 weeks. We can’t use anybody with a healing wound – it’s too risky. So you’re number four in the Officers’ Dining Room. You won’t get any more pay though,” and he sent me off with a smile. I knew the other three quite well, and we easily found a way of working as a team. As the junior I got the vegetables and topping up the wine (but never pouring the first glass – the head waiter did that), and assisting with the clearing. The four of us set the table, just as we would have done in the good old days, and by 1845 all was ready. The officers had got into the habit of meeting for cocktails before we served dinner, and two of us acted as barmen from 1845. The other two had 10 minutes off, leaving us juniors to the serious business of mixing martinis (a skill I had yet to learn). My colleague Jim advised me that one of the officers was very particular about his martini, and if I was the clever lad he thought I was (news travels fast at sea) then I should approach the said officer, announce that I had heard that his martini recipe was world-famous, and that I should be honoured to learn it. That way he, Jim, could get off the hook and serve the other dozen or so with what they wanted. “I get the picture, Jim,” I said, merter escort mentally gearing up for five minutes of intense instruction. The door opened. Several officers came in, rubbing their hands at the prospect of gin. The Colonel was leading them. The Colonel looked at the young man standing by the bar. The Colonel stopped in his tracks. The young man at the bar stood very still: it wasn’t going to be up to me. The Colonel strode forward, beaming like a lighthouse, his hand outstretched. “Patrick – it is you, isn’t it?” “It is indeed, Colonel. What a pleasure it is to welcome you back on Queen Mary.” I could hardly call him Slim, now could I? “It’s a delight to be back,” said Slim, “but we’d all wish the circumstances were happier.” He turned to a couple of senior officers next to him and explained that he had been a passenger on Queen Mary in 1936, “and Patrick here was an elevator boy.” “My duty right now is to get your drinks,” I said, and formalities were quickly resumed. The martini lesson would have to wait until the next evening. The fact that Slim had been only too happy to acknowledge me, and tell his staff who I was, suggested that Prince might become a useful go-between during the voyage. During the meal I, like the other three waiters, were professional and discreet. It was too early in the voyage for us to work out what the right attitude would be to these officers. In the last year or so some groups had been stand-offish and formal: that was fine as that was what waiters had been accustomed to in peacetime. The Aussies in particular had been much less formal and conversed openly with the waiters as they were being served. Time would tell with the Americans. Certainly that evening Slim’s earlier friendliness didn’t recur while they were eating. As I poured the coffee, however, Slim asked me about Prince. “I’ve encountered a black boy, Prince, and asked him to be attached to me as a kind of unofficial liaison person. I take it you know him.” “Indeed I do, Sir, he was one of the second intake of bell boys before the War. My brother and I were Bell Captains and we had six boys under us. The War changed all that, of course. I hope Prince will be useful to you. He’s very bright.” One of the other officers said, “is this the kid who took on Lance?” Slim said that he was, but that that matter was closed. “I want no color prejudice under my command, gentlemen, and I know I can count on your support in stamping out anything of that kind among the men. It will be easier to impress on them how seriously I take the baiting of our negro soldiers if a negro crew member is attached to me for the voyage. That’s why Prince will be at my side throughout – he has no military function, but he’s sure as hell not there for decoration. Think of him as our mascot, a visible sign of the unity of the fighting force I command, gentlemen, with your support. The ship’s officers have agreed to my request as they are equally adamant that all their passengers will be treated equally.” He stood up and the rest of them rose immediately. He turned to the senior waiter. “Thank you,” and he led them out, giving me a brief nod. “You’re in the right place,” the senior waiter said to me as we were clearing the tables. “Yes,” I said, “it’s a bit of luck he remembered me. It’ll make life more interesting, won’t it. He tipped very generously – maybe they’ll do the same this time.” When I got off duty and went down to the cabin I collared Tim and went to root out Prince. “We need to talk,” I said, and when others started to join us I said, “no, this is just Prince and Mulloys.” Prince was curious. “What’s up?” I asked him what the Colonel had said when he first reported for duty. “He said I was to be close to him all the time. I have a table in his office – that’s the sitting room of his suite – and he told me that when I report for duty at 0830 after breakfast tomorrow he’d tell me what he needs.” “Your job is to be visible, and he’ll have you with him pretty much all the time, I think.” “How do you know?” “I’m going to tell you something that no-one else knows, and you have to keep quiet about it until I’ve told the others. Your Colonel Jenks was a passenger on Queen Mary back in 1936. He recognised me at dinner when I was one of the waiters.” “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me, Patrick?” he asked with the beginning of a grin. “I am, and when your Colonel Jenks was entertaining Tim and me in his stateroom he was Slim. His interests and ours matched very closely, in fact he was the first client who wanted to play piss games. It was on our first crossing to New York. He greeted me like an old friend when he saw bahçeşehir escort me, and my guess is that he would like to renew that acquaintance.” “How can he, Patrick? He’s in charge of the entire ship.” “That means he can go to the one place that is strictly off limits to everyone else – down here. Can you cope with that – working beside him all day and being formal and obedient, and getting it on with him at night?” “I can’t see why not. We managed as bell boys to separate our public and private behaviour.” “OK. Here’s what we’ll do,” and I outlined my plan to him. He readily agreed. “Let’s give it a few days though,” I said. Prince went off and Tim stayed behind. “It’s a huge risk,” he said. “Yes, but it’s up to Slim to say yes or no. He was pleased to find me serving drinks, and he could easily have ignored me. The fact that he didn’t tells me he’d like to renew things, just like 1936 again.” “How will you fix it?” “I don’t know yet, and there’s no great hurry. This voyage is going to take a good three or four weeks. In the meantime let’s keep this strictly among the three of us.” ***** I left it another 3 days before doing anything. Slim and his officers would have been incredibly busy dealing with the training and quartering of 5000 men, but almost a week into the voyage I felt that the timing was right. I wrote a note to Slim, putting it and three enclosures into an envelope addressed to ‘Colonel Jenks: Strictly Private’, and gave it to Prince. “Give him this when the two of you are alone in the office.” “What’s in it?” “I’m not telling you. That way if he asks you whether you know the contents you can truthfully say that you don’t. Your ace card is your honesty, and it’s important to do nothing to affect that in his eyes.” Prince grinned. “You haven’t changed, have you? Bell Captain Patrick Mulloy is always one step ahead of the game.” It was my turn to grin. “I hope so, Prince, I really do. If this goes as I think it will the voyage will be a great deal more interesting.” When Tim came off duty I told him what I had done. “What did the note say?” he asked. “I didn’t tell Prince, but I’ll tell you. It said ‘Dear Slim. ‘You seemed pleased to see me the other night. If that means you would like to continue to enjoy yourself with Tim and me – and maybe others – we would be happy to entertain you. We former Bell Boys live in a part of the ship that is strictly off-limits to both Queen Mary crewmen and your troops. If you came to visit no-one need ever know. We have all the facilities you might find useful. ‘If you don’t want to take this any further put the NO note into the enclosed envelope, seal it and give it to Prince. If, as I hope will be the case, you feel like some more wickedness with a few willing boys then put YES in the envelope. ‘Prince has no idea what the contents of this letter are. ‘Patrick x'” “Wow!” said Tim, “you’re taking a helluva risk.” “War is hell,” I said, “and a few risks are worth taking. Let’s see what Slim does.” “Who else knows?” “You, me and Prince, like I said. If nothing comes of it then the fewer of us who are in on the idea, the better. If he says yes, then we play it by ear. For all either of us knows what turned him on in 1936 was 14-year-olds.” “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Tim with a trace of regret. Prince delivered the note some time during the following morning. When he came off duty he told me what had happened. “He was really busy most of the morning and I was sent with a couple of messages to various soldiers – not officers, but still men in charge. Just before lunch I took the chance of us being alone before the other officers came in. I gave him the note, and he looked at it with interest. ‘What’s this?’ he said. I said it was a note from you – I hope that’s what I should have done. ‘What’s it about?’ ‘I’ve no idea, Sir.’ Well, he opened it there and then and read it through twice. He looked up to see what I was doing, but I’d decided to be busy at my desk while he was reading. You made it pretty clear that I wasn’t to be part of whatever it was you were up to. Then he put a piece of paper into an envelope and sealed it. ‘Give this to Patrick,’ he said. He crunched up another piece of paper and threw it in the waste basket. Then he picked it out and tore it into tiny pieces and put the pieces back in the basket. Now tell me, what the hell’s going on?” He was still holding the envelope. “Open it, and read what it says.” I said. Prince opened it and took out a small piece of paper. “What does it say?” “YES” =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 130 as Slim comes to call. The photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing in 2017, and the boy I describe as “me” is really cute. I’m sure he had adventures … Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================

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