Sometime between 1500BC and 30BC…
Characters: Pharaoh Ammon, Captain
Horus, Second in Command
Ammon: “Is the ship ready to sail?”
Horus: “Yes, sir. We’re ready to board now. We should be leaving in no less then an hour.”
Ammon: “Excellent. Tell me our route again. I want to know you have not forgotten it.
Horus: “We sail from here and through the Mediterranean. We exit through the strait of Gibraltar. We sail along the western shore of Africa, and come to rest in Angola.”
Ammon: “Excellent. The Roman’s will have no idea of our plan. We will be gone before they come back again!”
Horus: “Yes sir, it’s a fantastic idea.”
Ammon: “Are the passengers and artefacts ready?”
Horus: “Yes sir. The women, children, and some of the men are on board. We have all the food and artefacts stored as well.”
Ammon: “The men staying behind; they are ready to fight the Romans?”
Horus: “Yes sir.”
Ammon: “Alright, let’s go.”
Pharaoh Ammon and Horus walked up the planks into the boat. They were fleeing from the coming invasion of the Romans. The men staying behind were to try and ward them off. If they won the war and Egypt was forever secure, they were to send a message throughout the lands of Africa to Angola, where the Pharaoh’s ship of people and artefacts from Egypt were to land safely. They would then return to Egypt. This was Pharaoh Ammon’s plan.
They sailed for many weeks. A few days in they could see heavy black smoke rising from their home land. Ammon wondered if the men fighting really had a chance of defeating the Roman Empire. Secretly, he thought not so. But he did not dare to tell anyone else this or his plan of a new colony might be defeated by his people’s frightened thoughts that they would never see Egypt again. He had, after all, promised they would return.
A swift current picked up the ship eventually, and swept it a few hundred miles off course. They could still see Africa, of course, but they would not be stepping into Angola anytime soon. Ammon steered the ship back onto course, and headed around the large head of African, coming into a wider area of open water. Angola was a few more weeks up ahead.
That night, everything changed. When the night sky vanished and daylight came through, Ammon found himself a few miles off the land of what he believed to be Angola. He had absolutely no idea how they made it to their destination that fast in one night. He supposed an ocean current could have done it, however.
They stopped the ship on the shore. Angola looked much different then what Ammon had heard from stories. Instead of wide, open fields of yellow grass and hills beyond the eye could see, he found himself looking into a jungle. They were on a white, sandy beach and there was a full jungle in front of him. Great mountains loomed in the distance. He could see no dock, and no sign of civilization for that matter. Ammon secured his vessel into the shore and got off with some good men to look around and try to find a colony. They packed supplies and set off into the jungle right away. Everyone else stayed behind on the ship. Ammon needed to find a colony soon. He and his people could not stay on the beach in a ship, a great storm would eventually come and they would all be in danger.
Ammon and his men walked through the jungle no more then a couple of hours when they came upon some caves. Ammon thought this to be a good place to rest for a few minutes. They walked inside, and came upon a man. He was dressed in worn away, tattered clothes. He picked up the blade he was holding very carefully, and Ammon and his crew stepped back.
Ammon: “Hello, I am Pharaoh Ammon from Egypt, and these are my men. Are you-”
Ammon was cut off by the man.
Man: “How did you find this place?”
Ammon: “We sailed here. I sent messages to your leader regarding our arrival. We need a safe place while the Romans invade our home and-”
Man: “Where do you think you are?”
Ammon: “Angola, I hope.”
Man: “You are quite, quite far from this “Angola”.”
Angola: “What do you mean? Who are you!?”
Man: “I am Adam. And let me show you what I mean.”