THERE were many things that could have gone wrong with the expedition, and indeed many things did go wrong. The bugs were out in full force, the food grew stale, their boots got waterlogged and ripped, and the expedition leader was down with a serious case of an unknown illness.
What would you do if you were trapped in a jungle with five burly but sick men, not knowing which way was north?
“We make camp,” croaked the expedition leader.
They found a clearing by a stream, an expanse of open ground large enough for them to build a ship in. Unfortunately the stream was too small to support a vessel of that size, and they hardly had the tools and materials to accomplish such a feat.
Night befell the expedition team, forcing them to bring out the tents and the mosquito repellents. Food was freshly caught from the stream, albeit the portions weren’t enough to cater to the six men. Salted meat was distributed to the party members in small servings.
“The City of Gold is looking more and more like a myth,” said one party member.
“I never said it was easy,” answered the expedition leader. “You shouldn’t have joined if you had plans for your seventieth birthday.”
“Things are spiralling out of control,” said a second party member. “What’s stopping us from abandoning the expedition? I miss my wife and she misses me.”
“No,” the leader said as firmly as his weakened body could manage. “We’ve come this far. To abandon the mission would be folly.”
The first party member said, “We have no idea how far the city is. For all we know, it’s on the other side of the jungle. I say we return to base camp.”
The silent party members agreed.
The leader was not to be deterred. He said, “The choice is yours. When you wake up in the morning, you’ll have changed your mind.”
With some suspicion, the five members went to sleep as the leader sang softly an ode of victory.
>Continued in part 2
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