Below Page #5

or use it now|so we can breathe.

Shinola.

Sir?

Running out of shinola, too.

We also wanted to ask you|about Captain Winters...

whether there was anything|you could tell us

about what happened that night

that might help us|to understand...

Don't pretend you don't know.

Just don't pretend anymore.

Well, wasn't that awkward?

Maybe Hoag was right.|Maybe we already bought it.

If not the depth charge,|then... the hydrogen.

If not the hydrogen, then...

maybe the cold.

And if not that,

then we got a big evil spirit|batting cleanup.

...Jesus Christ.|...Come on, Stumbo.

There should only be|so many ways a guy can die.

Listen to me.|CO2 hangs low.

It starts from the floor up,|and I need you right now...

...No, no.|...to get up on your feet.

...Maybe I just need to...|...Stumbo. Stumbo!

...Let me try.|...We already bought it.

Come on, Stumbo. Head up.

...Over and over...|...I need you to sit up.

...over and over again.|...Look at me.

Now look at me.|Look at me.

...Good.

Feel that?

Well, you're alive, then,|aren't you?

You f***in'...

...Stumbo...|...Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Hey!

...Take it easy! Hey!|...Relax, man!

Stumbo!

Isn't there a winch or a pulley

or maybe a come-along|in a bowsman's locker?

...Yeah.|...Can't we use that?

You know what he's|talking about, Stumbo?

...Yeah.|...Well, come on.

Come... we need it. Come on.|Show... show me, Stumbo.

We've got to get it.|Okay, come on. Come on.

So, tell me|why three officers

would conspire to kill|their captain

and cover it up.

That's what you're thinking,|isn't it?

What if I am?

I can see I'm not the only one.

Loomis was up|for a major citation.

And Brice was ready|for his own command.

He was from a naval family.|He went to Annapolis.

Coors had this beautiful girl|waiting for him back in Boston

that he was always|talking about, Claire.

These guys had everything|to live for.

By that reasoning...|they had everything to lose.

Are we missing somebody?

Wallace...

Wallace?

...No!

...No! No!|...Shh!

...No-o-o!|...It's just us.

It's just... us.

...Now, listen...

We're running out of plays|in the playbook.

Do you have... any idea|why the boat is going back

or how we can get control|of it?

I've been checking the|literature on this subject.

And the thing we know|about maledictions is...

Maledictions?

Look it up.

Maledictions don't issue|from Heaven or Hell

but from some unresolved place|in between.

I n fact, there's a great...

Wallace...|we're running out of air.

Suffice to say...

the malediction needs|satisfaction

in order to escape|its netherworld.

And if you had to guess...

what would satisfy|our malediction?

Old Man Winters never|got a chance

to go down with the ship,|did he?

Wallace, leave yours here.

We gotta dig up|some more light.

Okay, listen, uh...

Just... Just promise me|you'll stay on your feet, okay?

"Don't pretend..."

"Don't pretend|you don't... know. "

2230 hours:
Sight target

believed to be|German sub tender.

Winters orders flank speed|to close target

and gain a firing angle.

2315:
Loomis checks|target profile against I. D. Iog,

matching it to target, and|I personally verify the match.

2320:
Single torpedo fired|from number-4 tube.

Heard the strike, followed by|collapsing bulkheads.

2330 hours:
To confirm sinking|of German ship,

four officers go topside...

Commander Winters,|myself, Lieutenant Loomis,

and Lieutenant|J. G. Stephen Coors.

"Many bodies in the water. "

"Ship burning on the horizon. "

What are you doing in here?

Go.

A German ship...

of the type|Brice said you sunk.

My ship...|the Fort James hospital ship.

So what you're saying is...

that the submarine|Kingsley saw...

the one|he thought was German...

Wasn't.

So it was an accident?

Not when he left us|in the water to die.

Not when he heard the cries|for help in English.

You actually believe

that Captain Winters would|just leave...

Help! Help me!

No.

Captain Winters wanted to|pick up the survivors.

That means...

Help!

Who mis-I. D. 'd the ship?

Who had everything to lose?

Either the battery has|finally crapped out, or...

Or maybe we're here.

Come on.|Let's get some air going.

...All right.

Come on, everybody, pull!|Come on!

Come on! Pull!

F*** me. This is it.

...Oh!|...God, I hate being right.

...Pull!

Kingsley.

Oh, Jesus, God,|we're going down.

It's going up.

It's going up!

...Okay. All right.

Wallace, see if you can work the|radar, get a sweep of the area.

Stumbo, see if you can crack|this hatch. Use a crowbar.

Drain the tower.|See if we can get out that way.

If not, we gotta go out|the forward...

Oh, God.

Hey, fellas...|we have contact.

On SJ radar...|4, 000 yards, starboard beam.

It's the same one?|It's the same kraut ship?

...Are we being choosy?|...All right.

Uh, Wallace, raise the antenna.

Issue a radio challenge|on the Ariel-6.

Get the ship I. D. 'd|as of right now.

Well done, Mr. O'Dell.

But I'm feeling|much better now.

You were saying?

We have a contact.

That may be an opportunity.

An opportunity?

To abandon ship.

Well, I don't know that|that's a friendly out there.

Well, neither do I.

But it seems better to scuttle|now and take our chances

with a surface vessel,|even if it is German.

Scuttle and tell Connecticut|what?

We sunk one of their|finest fleet submarines

because we lost a few men|carrying out our mission?

A few men, sir?

Contact at 2,500 yards.

Might cross the stern.

We'll wait... right here.

Wallace... no matter what|Mr. Brice says,

I want you to go|to the radio shack

and establish a voice contact|with that ship immediately.

You are not the skipper|of this ship, Mr. O'Dell!

And neither are you, sir!

Rain squall.

With a little luck, they|won't see us in all this...

...weather.

Here!

Please!

We're over here!

Please!

Help, please!

Help!

On your starboard side!

It's really not safe up here,|Miss Page.

We're going below now!

Aah!

Bury everybody|and bury the truth...

is that it, Brice?!

Like this.

This is how I go.

If that's your plan...

get on with it,|you f***ing coward!

Stumbo, man the ports.|Get ready to scuttle this boat!

Just leave!

They'll blame it on a U-boat!

Just get out of here!|They'll never f***in' know!

Any more advice for me, champ?

500 yards and closing!

Looks like we're definitely|gonna lose some paint

on this one, sir!

I kept looking for some way|just...

just to... take it back,

to make it end right...

some way without|dishonoring Winters.

I was gonna wear this uniform|back to port.

Now...

What should I do, Miss Page?

You give me the light|so that I can signal for help.

I don't...

God, I don't know!

I just figured out|why he didn't kill me, too.

He didn't have to.

Aah!

Hey! Over here!

Come back!

Come back.

Well, you weren't the first|woman that ever slapped me,

and you won't be the last.

But that was a good thing|you done for me back there.

Well done, Miss Page.

Well done, Mr. Stumbo.

Dead but not buried, I see.

Pardon me?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes