The Angel Expedition

Chapter 5 - The Last Sailor

They had carefully walked along the cliff to the top of the waterfall, which cascaded loudly down to the level that their small, aged rowing boat was harboured at, waiting patiently for them. It was painted a dark, dirty blue, with a light blue streak across the top, which went around the entire exterior of the boat. The interior was a deep brown, what looked like black walnut wood.

"How are we going to get across the river?" Brad asked as they studied its width, shaking even though he wasn't cold. The shock had finally hit him.

"We swim," Darcy joked, teasing him with a nudge of his elbow.

"But– but what if there are alligators in there?" He cried, turning to his captain in the hopes of reassurance, but it was as if Captain Carlisle was not part of the conversation, for he paced slowly in front of the group, one hand crossed over his torso, the other elbow resting on top as he stroked his stubbled chin with his hand, forming a plan in his head.

"Yeah you're right, there may be some caimans," Darcy replied, dragging out his amusement further.

"What's a caiman?"

"An alligator. More or less," he winked, sniggering at the look of pure fear on Brad's face, but Donovan stopped in front of them, keeping his back to them and his eyes on the river as he spoke.

"Fear not, Mr Rogers, for we shan't be swimming."

"How are we going to get across then?" Darcy asked bitterly, annoyed that the Captain had destroyed his entertainment.

The group watched as their leader motioned his head to four large rocks spread out across the river, a little further up than they were standing, and then made his way forwards to execute his plan.

* * *

Captain Donovan Carlisle was the first to cross; Evangeline Emrys, Larry Stevenson and Darcy Bauer carefully following after him, one at a time.

The rocks were incredibly slippery, and each of them knew that one wrong step or the incorrect footing could lead them to their death, as the waterfall was loud and violent; its water deep and the drop even deeper.

They all looked across the river at Bradshaw Rogers, who was still yet to cross, unable to keep his breathing under control and his nerves from shaking him more.

"What if I slip?" he cried.

Donovan knew very well that Brad was on the brink of another panic attack, and crouched down when he spoke his words, keeping his voice calm but strong.

"And what if you don't?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"You're the last one to cross, Mr Rogers. Let's say you stay there. You run out of food and clean water. It gets dark. Let's say that there are caimans in the river, and they decide to come inland. What then?"

Donovan kept his gaze on his frightened crew member, who was all by himself on the wrong side of the river. His gaze bore into Brad's as if he could communicate telepathically, encouraging him to cross, and after a brief moment of hesitation, presumably of consideration, Brad began to cross the river.

The rocks were more slippery than he had anticipated, and as his feet landed on the first large rock, he slipped and fell onto his stomach. The group stood more alert, shouting words of encouragement to their friend as he carefully attempted to stand, his hands and feet slipping and sliding all over the wet rock. After a few tries, he managed to keep both feet flat without slipping, and stood very slowly upright.

He'd done it.

But he hadn't finished yet- he still had three more rocks to cross. He looked to his group - all of them safe and well - trying to help him with their words but were unintentionally creating more of a distraction than an aid.