A day or so after the MV Grecian moored in Beirut there were moments of reflection. During an afternoon chat as the crew relaxed on the vessel’s afterdeck, the conversation turned to the deckboy’s romantic status.

The youngster had early confessed that he had yet to sleep with a woman. The assembled deckies were now in general agreement that the Lebanon port’s nightlife would offer a perfect opportunity for the teen to ‘lose his cherry.’  

Being half-hearted about taking the plunge into such a significant event, the 16-year-old deckhand that evening was reluctant to dip his wick as he joined our small party en route to the city’s nightlife and descended the gangplank to the pier.

Everything in the vibrant port city was just as described by those who had previously visited the eastern Mediterranean port. The nightlife was lively, prices were cheap and sex was a commodity as accessible as any other high street service.  

After sinking a few beers and unwisely adding a few glasses of Anis, which at the time couldn’t be purchased in Britain, we deckhands were well pissed. High-spirited, we made enquiries as to where the nearest brothel might be.

After being directed to a nearby tenement we cheerful deckies entered the building. We then made our way up several flights of unlit stairs separated by landings.

We soon found ourselves loitering on the tenement’s top landing. Depending on your morality or lack of it, we seamen on the loose were in good or bad company.

After reaching the dwelling’s top floor our group discovered a neatly formed queue where the hooker’s clients each waited their turn to ‘dip their hooks.’ Apart from us aliens standing patiently, a queue of Arabs awaited their turn to make lurve.

‘I wonder which one is Lawrence of Arabia,’ whispered one of our group.

‘All of them,’ an exasperated shipmate grunted. It was obvious that the novice about to experience his first sexual encounter would have to wait his turn in the queue.

Tolerant to a point, we crew members watched as every few minutes an apartment door opened. A client tidying his front would furtively emerge as yet another horny Arab would take his turn. Looking back at the ludicrous situation I think a visit to a dentist would have been a better option.

‘These fuckers would shag a mossy grid,’ smirked one of the older seamen.

Before 10 minutes had passed consensus was reached. We Brits were more equal than others. Therefore, we agreed that being European our deck boy qualified to jump the queue and the hooker.  Without further discussion, our small group rudely took its place at the head of the line This boorish behaviour naturally caused quite a stir.

The indignation of displaced Arabs was met by bluster. Insults were exchanged followed by threats and then punches were thrown blow for blow.

The fracas could only be described as a barroom fight one enjoys when viewing Wild West movies. The air was blue as the sound of slapping flesh, grunts, cries and oaths split the air.

Then, swinging chairs were used to better settle matters in our favour.  The now uneven fracas was returned to a more balanced melee by an Arab retrieving a large fighting knife.

‘Oh, shit!’ I yelled, ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here.’

Rourke’s Drift in Zulu; This was better. Fighting rear-guard and at times cut off from each other our group descended the stairway three-stairs at a time until we reached street level.

Our crew held its own and we all finally exploded onto the street outside after which we scattered to the four winds. The ship’s deckboy was destined to endure his purified state for a little longer. Never mind, there was always the eight-fingered bride. NOTE: This story is one of 70 similar true stories that feature in THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL by Michael Walsh:

STORIES YOU JUST HAVE TO SHARE

THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL ex-Liverpool seaman Michael Walsh. Bestseller: 70 stories and over 100 pictures. A first-hand account of the British ships, seafarers, adventures and misadventures (1955 – 1975). A tribute to the ships and seamen of the then-largest merchant marine in history. BOOK LINK    https://feji.us/gwi9jw

BRITANNIC WAIVES THE RULES Michael Walsh The Last White Star Liner (1845-1960). In 68 lavishly illustrated stories the company’s last deckboy vividly recalls shipboard life. The liner’s colourful characters and jaw-dropping incidents both on board and in New York’s notorious Hell’s Kitchen. A unique collector’s item. LINK TO BOOK https://feji.us/ig9a6g