He paused on the forest path, glancing back towards the encampment. He didn't want to lose his Prudence in the future. He didn't want to spend the remainder of his days here while she remained in the arms of another man. Admittedly a good man, a man who wouldn't hurt her, but a man who was not him.
No, he couldn't be so selfish as to put himself ahead of everyone else. Without the Fountain of Youth, Reverend Crane could never take power. Everyone on Eternity would have normal life spans, which at this time of the 17th Century were far shorter than in the future. He and Prudence and the others would all be dead in forty years, if not much sooner. They would never see automobiles, airplanes, computers, or any of the other wondrous inventions to come. Yet it was better for them to die never knowing of these things than to suffer three hundred fifty years of slavery.
He didn't have to destroy the Fountain of Youth. If he controlled its power instead of Reverend Crane, then he could create a paradise of learning and peace. He could create the sort of place where knowledge held sway over ignorance and science over blind devotion. Like the natives, he would use the fountain's power only when someone became too old or sick to go on. He would never conduct purges like Reverend Crane.
Even as he thought all this, he knew it couldn't work. Someone else-Mr. Pendleton for one-would try to take control of the fountain for his own ends, to serve his own dream. So much power didn't belong in the hands of men. It must be destroyed.
With his mind made up, Wendell proceeded up the path to the cave. He stopped just inside the cave when he saw the buckets lined up around the fountain. These were not native items, but items taken from the ship. Someone else had found the Fountain of Youth and taken its water. I'm too late, he thought.
Before he could turn around, someone grabbed his shoulder and slammed him into a wall. The supplies fell from his hands, scattering across the cave floor. Blood dripped into Wendell's eyes, clouding his vision as the hand seized him by the shirt collar and lifted him into the air. He blinked enough blood away to make out Pryde's face.
"Looks like I caught the stowaway," Pryde said.
"How did you find this place?" Wendell asked.
"You led us right here."
"Me? I didn't. I couldn't have."
"I'll let the reverend explain it. I'm sure he'll think of something to do with you." Pryde took out his knife, holding it up to Wendell's face. "Not as much fun as what I'd do with you, I'm sure."