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Robinson Crusoe: Adventures on the Cursed Island» Forums » Sessions

Subject: The cook and the explorer rss

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Merric Blackman
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Ramping up my reviewing.
Happily playing games for many, many years.
The cook and explorer once sailed in a boat,
but bacon and ham wouldn't keep her afloat.
The tropical isle, where they were washed up,
With bacon, and ham - and only one cup.

A stranger, a native, a friendly face,
Did greet the two, they noticed his race;
The jungle, they thought, would have ham and wood,
But lions, and bears, might chase them and could!

The cook then declared, "We must have a fire!
For cooking, and sleeping; it would be most dire,
If rescuing failed, the ship homeward's flight
Without us aboard; lost in the night!"

The other did nod, and with Friday's aid,
Went walking for hours (the cook wept and stayed)
That wood might be found, and made into piles
Which fire could burn and then seen for miles.

The cook gathered food, and often the stones,
For he knew that soup would stave off the moans.
Shelter was needed, for in the cold night
The two would much shiver, not only with fright

With lions and tigers and bears all outside,
The pistol they'd saved would make sure what died
Was not one of them, and even, Cook said,
With skinning and cleaning, they'd all be well fed.

The weather turned foul, and so did their mood,
Exploring the isle gave them not much food,
But Sarah, explorer, said, "I know what haps,"
and then from a pocket presented her maps.

"From here on to here, we have a short cut,
Where food can be gathered, and brought to our hut."
The cook was much pleased, and said to his friend,
"With your skill and luck, we will make an end."

The last task, they knew it, was out to the ship
With axe and much hand-work they cut and they chip
Until they did free it; the old wreck's big mast,
And piled it, in small bits, the wood 'til the last.

The fire, she caught, the great blaze a mound,
And then came the ship, the two now were found.
The Friday, he stayed, the two with no pang,
Would leave him behind, not knowing he sang

The farewell to beaches, to heaven reclaimed,
From two who were here, not knowing his name;
The native's best work is not always known.
The cook and explorer are on their way home.

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