Dun and Dusted Part II. Book 7 of Poacher's Progress
Chapter 1: A passage to Egypt continued

Copyright© 2019 by Jack Green

I had seen many vessels on the River Thames propelled by steam.
The General Steam Navigation Company has a fleet of fifteen steamboats operating between London and Margate, with a regular ferry service, provided by steam driven, side paddle wheeled boats, that run from East India Dock to Gravesend and Margate.
I had not yet seen a sea going vessel of that type although read in the London Times that in April 1827 a Dutch owned, British built, steam ship, Curaco crossed the Atlantic from Rotterdam to Surinam.

The steamship, trailing a plume of black smoke behind her, which entered the Grand Harbour of Valetta that morning was the Golden Horn.
She was at least one hundred and twenty feet long, with a paddle wheel each side of the vessel, powered by twin steam engines housed amidships. A smokestack, to carry the smoke away from the vessel, towered over the deck and was stayed by cables. Two masts, one forward of the stack and the other at the stern, carried sails which provided extra motive power when required, and stabilised the vessel in rough seas, allowing the paddle wheels to keep in contact with the water.

Golden Horn was designed to carry passengers in luxurious comfort, with accommodation and dining facilities built on the upper deck. Below deck were the engine room, the crew’s quarters, storage for coal and cargo, and the galley, as a ship’s kitchen is called. The master of the vessel, whom I judged to be Bohemian or Moravian, was Captain Luther Pendragharz His crew consisted of Nubian stokers, Egyptian stewards, and Turkish seamen, with a Scot, Potto Mac Robert, as Chief Engineer.

Captain Pendragharz was naturally proud of his ship and gave me a full tour of the vessel. I was astonished at the opulence of the fittings and furnishings, and remarked so to him.
“Well, of course, Colonel. This vessel belongs to Mahmud the Second, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire!”
I thought I had misheard, for although Captain Pendragharz’s command of English was excellent his accent, and pronunciation of the language, made his speech sometimes difficult to decipher. However, his speech was less incomprehensible to me than that of the Chief Engineer, who had glared at me when introduced by his captain.
“A bluidy Sassenach! I’ll no be shaking the hand of my country’s oppressor.”
I was somewhat nonplussed by his remark as for the life of me I could not recall the last time I had oppressed a Scot.

Captain Pendragharz shrugged his shoulders as Mac Robert stumped back to the engine room. “I am sorry for the welcome afforded you by your compatriot, but there are mitigating circumstances. Potto, Mister Mac Robert, has run out of whisky and cannot replenish his stock until we return to Constantinople.”
“We are not compatriots, Captain. I am English and the Chief is Scottish...”
“But you are both British – is Britain not a country?”
I did not have the time, or the inclination, to explain how four disparate peoples became the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, so gave the following explanation.
“When Britain finds itself at war then it is a case of all for one and one for all, but in the piping days of peace it is more of a free for all between the four different races of the islands.”

To change the subject I asked Captain Pendragharz how it was the Sultan’s steamship was being used to carry a foreign expedition to Egypt.
“It is due to a combination of several factors, the first being The Hajj...” he began before I interrupted him.
“The what?”
“The Hajj is the pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca, in Arabia. Every Moslem is expected to make the pilgrimage at least once in their lives. Some of the Sultan’s relatives are making the pilgrimage, and Golden Horn conveyed them from Constantinople to Damietta. They then chartered a felucca to carry them to Cairo, to join thousands of pilgrims travelling the road to Suez. From there the pilgrims take ship to Jeddah, whence they disembark for Mecca.”
The captain wiped his brow with a large red handkerchief. “It is damned hot in harbour after being at sea, where it is much cooler.” He put his handkerchief away and continued. “I intended leaving for Cyprus after off-loading my passengers at Damietta, but the Provincial Governor made me an offer I could not refuse, dare not refuse. He asked me to steam to Malta to pick up your expedition, and then return you to Damietta.”
“You say could not refuse his offer, Captain?”
“Ghandou Pasha is not a man one would wish to antagonise, Colonel, which is why I agreed to do his bidding. He has rewarded me with gold coin and young flesh – fifty sultani and four young slave girls. The fifty gold coins will fund my retirement, the girls I will sell on to a brothel in Constantinople, after I and my crew have had our fill of them.”
“Ghandou Pasha gives away members of his harem?”
“They are part of his harem but not members of his household, which consist of his wives – three at the moment – and his six concubines, who are the female relatives of important Egyptians. The remainder of the harem are the female slaves who carry out all the menial tasks applicable to a great house, besides being available to pleasure the Pasha’s guests, and those men he wishes to influence.”
“Are the slave girls presently on board?”
Pendragharz shook his head. “No, they will be handed over when we return to Damietta. Golden Horn will remain at Damietta until the return of the pilgrims from Mecca. By that time the crew and I will have worn the girls to a frazzle, but they, and we, will be able to recuperate on the voyage back to Constantinople.”


Mimi and I were accommodated in the opulent suite reserved for the most important of guests. Rollo had a small cabin along the corridor that Captain Pendragharz referred to as the Chief Eunuch’s quarters. The harem of the important guest would have been housed in a large room alongside the Chief Eunuch’s berth, but as I did not have, or desire, a harem this room was empty and was used as a sitting and withdrawing room. The Crudwrights opted for separate cabins, much to the astonishment of Captain Pendragharz. “Does the professor not mount his wife? She is quite comely, even if a bit skinny for my taste. I prefer a woman with plenty to grab hold of, although I have heard it said the nearer the bone the sweeter the meat. Is her husband a eunuch?”
I had no idea, nor wanted to know, of the sexual preferences of Professor and Mrs Crudwright so made some poor excuse for their sleeping arrangements. “I believe the professor snores so loudly his wife obtains little or no sleep when in the same room.”
“She should stuff her ears with wax,” Pendragharz said, then laughed. “Of course, if she did, and then occupied the same bed as the professor, perhaps she would still obtain little or no sleep!”

I had brought six bottles of Professor Potter’s Potent Prowess Providing Potion with me on the expedition, which I hoped would last me until returning to England. To date I had kept Mimi fully sated and satisfied without resorting to Professor Potter, but I knew Mimi had been holding herself in check during the journey, so as not to make too much noise and frighten the horses, so to speak. When out in the desert I knew she would exhibit a more uninhibited sexual behaviour, and Professor Potter’s assistance would be needed if I were to match her unbridled debauchery.
As my baggage was carried into our accommodation aboard Golden Horn two bottles of the potion clinked together.
Captain Pendragharz heard the sound. “If those are bottles of whisky, or bottles of any other alcohol, in your luggage I would be willing to purchase one. Potto is like a bear with a sore head, and I worry he might do something detrimental to his health if he does not soon quench his thirst.”
I explained the bottles were a tonic. “I could probably persuade the senior mess steward of the Officer’s Mess in Valletta to sell me a bottle of whisky, should there be any available,” I said. “However, I doubt the doughty Scot would accept a gift from a ‘bluidy Sassenach’.”
“Potto would embrace a cannibal if it meant a dram of whisky.” Said Pendragharz.

“I will have a word with the mess steward this evening. I take it we will not be departing until the morning tide?”
“There’s little or no tide in these waters, Colonel, and even if there was Golden Horn can leave at any time you choose. With steam power we are no longer at the mercy of wind, tide, or current. I can have steam up and be ready to depart in two hours.”
That was fine with me, the sooner the expedition reached Egypt the sooner we could return home. “Very well Captain. We will leave in two hours.”
“What about Mac Robert’s whisky?”
“Surely he can replenish his supply when we reach Egypt?”
“Not so, Colonel. Moslems are forbidden alcohol, although in Constantinople it can be obtained without too much trouble, if one is circumspect when purchasing and consuming the product. However, in the Levant, Egypt, Arabia, and Persia, all of which were formerly tolerant of such minor sins, the fanatics currently hold sway, and those found to have taken drink are beheaded.”
“And I thought the rules of the Temperance Society were harsh,” I said. “I will straight way go and have words with the senior mess steward. If there is no whisky available what is the next favoured tipple of the chief engineer?”
“In the mood he is in Potto would drink camel piss if it contained a smidgen of alcohol, but vodka is probably the next best thing to whisky for him.”

“Whisky, Colonel? That is not a drink fit for a gentleman,” said the Senior Mess Steward, a weather beaten sergeant who had probably spent more years in the army than I had on earth.
“I wholeheartedly agree, Sergeant, but the bottle is not for me but for a Scotsman.”
“Ahh, a Jock, that would explain it. There might be a bottle left from when the Forty Second Highlanders were here two years ago – although they would not have left any behind on purpose. This evening I’ll send a lad to search through the darkest corners of the cellar...”
“I would be greatly obliged if you could send the lad immediately, Sergeant. My vessel leaves in two hours.” I handed the sergeant a half guinea. “This should take care of any accounting required for the mess accounts.”
“Any bottle found would not be on inventory...”
“Youi may keep the coin in any event, Sergeant.”

The first thing I learned on being commissioned was to keep in the good books of the Senior Mess Steward of the Officers Mess. If he looked kindly upon you then there was always vittles’ and drink to be had, while other, more tight fisted, officers went without.
Half an hour later a cobwebbed covered bottle of whisky, grasped in the grubby hand of an equally cobweb covered mess waiter, was handed me.
“Excellent work, Sergeant.” I fished in my pocket and pulled out a shilling. “Perhaps this will go some way in rinsing out the dry and dusty throat of your lad, who no doubt will share his good fortune with you.”
The sergeant grinned. “Thank you kindly, Colonel. Him and me will be raising a flagon or two to your generosity later this evening.”

Mimi was ensconced in the luxury of our cabin. “The bed and furnishings are fit for a King,” she gasped as she stroked the brocaded coverlet and smoothed the silk sheets. “It will be like Anthony and Cleopatra on their barge. I feel extremely lewd and lascivious, and you had best unpack one of Professor Potter’s bottles. The sea air appears to enlarge my libido; I hope it does the same for you.”
“Once we are at sea I will put your hypothesis to the test,” I said. “But first I must bear gifts to the Caledonians, or rather a gift to a Caledonian.”
I took the bottle of whisky down to the engine room. Mac Robert saw me enter, and was about to berate me when I held up the bottle.
“I have come to make amends for the oppression of your country by my race, Mister Mac Robert.”
The man damn near kissed me!


The journey to Damietta took five days. The weather was fine, the sea calm, and Potto Mac Robert was my new best friend.
Mimi and I found that sea air certainly improves /enlarges /accelerates the libido, and I called on Professor Potter’s assistance several times during the voyage, with Mimi stifling her screams of ecstasy in the damask and silken pillows. I wish the seabirds that followed the ship were as solicitous. Most mornings I awoke to the shrill squawking of a gull.

Mimi was always asleep at the time so I did not have her experienced ear to confirm or deny if it was a seabird or an orgasmic female making the noise. I supposed the sound could have been that of a female, and it pains me to say it, the possibility that Rollo Guest and Georgina Crudwright were making the beast with two backs at night could not be discounted.
Although they were in separate cabins, I could visualise Georgina, who I thought the more experienced of the pair in the pleasure of the flesh, creeping into Rollo’s room to spend the night in energetic sexual contortions, with accompanying sound effects. Later that morning I broached the subject to Mimi.
“Rollo is far too inexperienced for that madam,” she scoffed. “If Georgina is making the beast with anyone it would be with a Nubian stoker. She practically salivated when she first saw those huge, sweating, muscular, black men.”
“She was not the only one, my love. Chastity’s eyes stalked like mushrooms, and I saw you licking your lips. Later that night I had to recourse to Professor Potter as you were so avid, eager, and inventive.”
Mimi grinned in remembrance. “You have to admit they are magnificent examples of manhood.”

It was noticeable that Rollo and Georgina spent much time together. Rollo and Crudwright would be examining the map of the area where the dig was to take place with Georgina at their side, usually alongside Rollo. They sauntered around the promenade deck arm in arm, and to all intents and purposes they were a couple. Why should that relationship not be continued overnight?
Mimi was adamant. “Georgina is using Rollo to allay her father’s suspicions. I expect she creeps down to the engine room at night and entertains one, or more, of those lusty stokers.”
“Nonsense, Mimi. Your imagination runs away with you.”
“It certainly does,” she said, and dragged me into bed.

The next morning, after my early morning wakeup call of a shrieking seagull, I went, via the ladder from the accommodation deck, to the promenade deck. Captain Pendragharz was on the bridge and beckoned me to join him.
“Good morning, Captain. Did those damned sea birds wake you early as well?” I asked.
“Seabirds? What seabirds? The only birds I see are those starlings to starboard, indicating we are near land.”
He opened up the brass telescope he had tucked under his arm, and held it to his eye. “Yes, I can see the coastline,” he said, then handed me the telescope. I peered through the eyepiece. At first everything was blurred, then Pendragharz rotated the knurled eyepiece, and the land suddenly appeared. I could make out some stone buildings, one with a tower on which a flag fluttered in the stiff breeze.
“Welcome to Egypt,” said Captain Pendragharz. “The buildings you see are the seaward defences of Damietta.”

The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.