By admin 
This is Part 3 of a three-part serialization. Read Part 1 and Part 2.
IV. MISERY
My men were dehydrated and hungry. I doubled their rations of the remaining flour, which led to more vomiting and dying. There was nothing that would please them.
Read more The Incredible Adventure of the Fortitude, by Herbrerm Pinkleton: Part 2
Then I heard a voice crying out from the distance. “Good God, man, just dock your ship over here!” I licked my cracked, bloody lips and squinted across the water. Had I imagined it? “I have food and water,” the voice continued. “Lots of ham sandwiches. Just toss me a line.”
The surviving men gathered on deck and gazed at the ominous figure on the opposite bank from which we’d launched. We knew much less about the inhabitants of that neighborhood.
“Cannibal,” I muttered. “He’s a cannibal, and he’s tricking us.” Then, louder, “From whence comes the meat in said ham sandwiches? Answer that or you’ll see our stern!” My men cheered weakly.
“I have ham sandwiches,” the savage said more quietly, feigning confusion.
“McGann, set sail for Tahiti,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Aye, aye, sir,” McGann said, then died and, considering the greater good, lined it up so that his body flopped overboard and didn’t have to be wrapped in a flag, and prayed over and all that.
Moments later, Tover McCloon lacked the same civility and allowed his dead body to fall on deck. I commanded that we begin our usual little ceremony. But my crew didn’t budge. Their hunger and thirst were beginning to overwhelm their ability to execute mini-funerals. Ironically, as we inched away from the cannibal on the far shore, we found ourselves debating the pros and cons of eating McCloon. On the one hand, he’d been a loyal shipmate and friend. On the other, a little food in our bellies would surely bolster our energy levels.
“Please don’t do it!” called his widow from shore. We took this into account, but knew she was biased, having been married to him. I’m unproud to say we hesitantly passed forks and knives around and closed our eyes, and did that awful deed and got extremely full from it, and therefore napped, appropriately ashamed, but also very sleepy.
V. VICTORY
As I would write years later in my book, “How to Sail and Conquer,” having an entire crew and its captain nap at the same time is tempting fate. The Fortitude drifted too close to the cannibal shore and its hull was ripped open by a dock. I woke to find water gathering in the hull. I shook my napping crew, but they’d all died of scurvy and/or been bitten to death by rats, drowned, etc.
The Fortitude was lowering herself into the Thames a few feet per hour, and there was nothing I could do. The gods seemed hellbent on me never kissing a topless Tahitian. And, being realistic, I realized the gods would not even allow me to see the next sunset.
Read more The Incredible Adventure of the Fortitude, by Herbrerm Pinkleton: Part 1
I’d never learned to swim and so, with a sheepish glance toward my father, I lay down to nap again, hoping I could be asleep when I drowned, if that was a thing.
I woke an hour later, feeling frustrated that I’d have to drown awake, but found that a bit of providence had finally shone upon me. The river’s level had lowered, and I could make out a sort of bridge to shore, composed of crewmembers’ bodies.
In what was later described as the most courageous first step that any man has ever taken, I set one foot firmly on Tover McCloon’s dead face, pushed down a few times to test the sturdiness, then stepped fully from the sinking Fortitude.
Crowds watched as I tottered along the body bridge, surely a sight to behold, with my hungry belly and stubbly face. Then finally, for the first time in more than four hours, I felt sweet, sweet land beneath my feet. I burst into tears and kissed the mud as the onlookers erupted in cheers. But then the cries fell silent. I looked up to find my father gazing down with a scowl on his craggy face.
“Young man,” he said, “because of what you have just done, you will never have to lift a finger again in your life. You embody what it is to be a good British man. Now stand up and shake my hand, and then kneel down again because the king is here to congratulate you!”
And it was true. The crowd parted to reveal King George III. He leaned close to me and whispered, “Don’t know that I could have done it any better myself, lad.”
The crowd erupted, and I realized that this was very deserved. I may not have accomplished every part of the mission exactly as we’d set out to do, but it was very possible that I’d done much more than that.
Read more Will A.I. Still Take Our Jobs?
Footnote: My wife and children were also there and that was good, too. ♦