I am doing Meredith Lewis (@dangerousmere) daily creative prompt and today it’s to write as if I’ve been shipwrecked.
My name is McCoy.
Able Seaman William McCoy of His Majesty’s Ship the Bounty.
Or, I was.
I’m not sure what I am anymore – or who I am.
I belong to no ship now.
The Bounty is no longer. We burned her last night. We watched her in flames as she erupted into a fireball, her masts crackling and crashing into the water.
Standing silently on the beach, I wondered what will happen to us. To me. For a moment, I smiled to myself because I’ll never have to climb that blasted mast again.
That smile quickly disappeared when I realised I’ll never see home again.
Our estimates are that we are approximately 188 nautical miles from Tahiti. Or so we think. It’s hard to say anymore because we’re so exhausted. On the ship we squabbled over the exact location and tensions rose trying to find this place. A few of us were beginning to lose hope in him in him, not believe him anymore. He was sure that there was an island, an uncharted and unmapped island where we could bide our time before they come looking for us.
And they will.
I wonder if it’s all been worth it?
Was I too hasty to decide my fate standing there on the deck of the Bounty while he yelled out to the men to decide whether they go with Bligh or stay onboard with him?
I’m not so sure but one thing I am certain.
This forsaken island, in the middle of nowhere, is now my fate.
All hope is lost.