The End of 1485 AD, Betrayal!

Night lay dark and heavy, the Congo River surging on, black clouds covering the moon. Three Caravels had dropped their heavy anchors and moored at the edge of the great river, a hundred meters apart from one another. Points of torchlight flared up aboard the ships, illuminating the fluttering Portuguese flags and the watchful sailors on night duty.

For the Portuguese exploration fleet, sailing at night through an unfamiliar inland basin was extremely dangerous. So Captain Diogo Cao, as always, gave the order to anchor where they were and arranged for boatswain Diego to keep watch.

"Foda-se! This really is the devil's land! Clear as anything in the daytime, and at night you can't even see the moon's shadow! Mm, hnng!"

One of the captain's guards was squatting on a plank at the bow, trousers off, bare backside pointed out over the side of the ship.

Clearly, this was something that had to be done. But aboard a sailing ship in the Age of Discovery, doing such a thing was not easy; it even required a certain amount of skill. At this moment, the guard was clutching a rope tightly in his hand to keep his balance. The plank beneath his feet jutted out into empty air and swayed from time to time. And beneath that swaying plank was the bottomless, rushing Congo River.

"Foda-se! Even taking a dump comes with this many mosquitoes! I'm sick to death of days like this!"

Another voice came from the side. It was another of the captain's guards. He held the rope with one hand while the other slapped desperately behind his backside. The tropical mosquitoes swarmed over at the scent, constantly trying for more intimate contact, impossible to drive away.

"Damn it! Tulio, tonight's food must've grown bad mold! My legs are