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Mutiny on the Bounty
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 1962
- 178 min
- 1,398 Views
Portsmouth, December, 1787.
I looked upon the vessel
that was to take me to the Island of Tahiti.
A destination so far from England
that one couldn't go farther
without starting to come home.
And the length of the journey was equaled
by the importance of its mission.
What could be more vital
than to find and cultivate
a nourishing new food
that cost nothing to grow?
A blessing for the poor,
the hungry of the world.
It was a mission close to my heart.
And it was I who had been chosen
from amongst
all the gardeners in England.
Oh, beg pardon.
Can you tell me if this boat is the Bounty?
- Boat, did you say?
- Yes.
- A boat! It's a ship, you landlubber.
- Hey, what kind of a seaman's this?
- He's a peddler.
- You selling something, chum?
I'm not a peddler. I'm a gardener.
Assistant Botanist at
the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew.
You know Kew Gardens, of course.
Kew's outside London.
You lost your way, mate.
Well, I haven't lost my way if this boat,
I beg your pardon,
if this ship is the Bounty.
Aye, it's the Bounty, all right.
Then, perhaps one of you gentlemen
could tell me where I sign on?
I wonder what a gardener's
doing onboard, huh?
Gonna plant roses
in me hammock, are you?
Good thing, too, the way you smell.
Hold on, hold on. Look. Empty pots.
I know. We're going to Tahiti
to fill them with something, right?
Well, one usually fills empty pots
with something.
- What'd you got here? Little telescope?
- Be careful, please.
These are scientific documents.
Agronomy records.
- They're what?
- Agronomy records.
They're sketches, really.
- Sketches?
- Sketches of breadfruit.
- Breadfruit?
- Breadfruit?
You mean, where we're going,
bread grows on trees?
Bread trees.
That's daft enough for a shipload, eh?
There's nothing daft about breadfruit.
It is a very real food. A staple, like wheat.
- Here.
- Goofy-looking weed.
It's funny that nobody's
ever heard of this before, then.
No one ever heard of the potato
until Sir Francis Drake
brought it from South America.
Breadfruit may alter it again.
The West Indies Company
plans to feed it to the slaves in Jamaica
no matter what it tastes like.
But then, if it becomes popular,
they'll feed it to the world.
Gentlemen, we're about to embark
on a very momentous journey.
Personally, I'm proud to be part of it.
Now, where do I sign on?
I'll show you. Come along with me.
Breadfruit? Did you ever hear
of that? A breadfruit?
Now come on, love, you got me money.
What more do you want?
- But when do you get paid?
- Now, come on, love. Get off the ship.
Hey, Scratch.
Sign on me mate here, will you?
Make your mark right there.
Captain coming aboard!
He was master of the Resolution
under Captain Cook.
- What's he like?
- A hard one.
- But he walks like a sailor, anyway.
- Mr. Fryer.
- Captain, sir.
- How is the crew shaping?
- A prime lot, I'd say, sir.
- And all volunteers.
- Good.
I'd like my chest brought aboard,
Mr. Fryer.
If you have a sober hand
who can be trusted not to desert.
At your service, sir.
Mills is a good man, sir.
Remain by my cabin.
I'll have other errands.
Aye, aye, sir.
Come on, give me a hand, mate.
You're not backward
in pushing yourself forward, are you?
You keep your pork-nose where it belongs
and give me a hand
with the Captain's gear.
Well, don't be touchy, mate.
Got a long voyage ahead, you know.
That's true. There it is.
Always speak up
for the easy tasks in port,
to be spared the difficult ones at sea.
What's this? A Royal visit?
That's Mr. Christian's carriage, sir.
Is it, now?
So, I've had a career fop
palmed onto me as a first mate.
- You haven't met him yet, sir?
- He was assigned only yesterday.
Moorechild was my choice.
He was taken ill
with some malady or other.
Aye, nothing compares with a woman
washed all over,
smelling like a Frenchman.
Fletcher Christian, Lieutenant,
come aboard to join, sir.
Lieutenant Christian.
You are a naval lieutenant, I presume?
Yes. Please forgive my appearance, sir.
I was staying with friends in the country
- So, I came directly.
- I see.
- This is Mr. Fryer, our sailing master.
- Oh, yes.
- Nice to see you again, Mr. Fryer.
- Same to you, Mr. Christian.
Yes, we sailed together.
Let me show your men your cabin.
Your pardon, sir.
You've come none too soon.
Please be about your duties without delay.
Your indulgence, sir.
I have two charming friends here
who insist upon seeing me to my ship.
And they also insist
upon meeting the Captain.
They say it's important.
- Very well.
- Thank you.
- Hello, Ned.
- Fletcher.
- How are you?
- I'd heard you were going to be with us.
- Yes. We'll be together.
- What luck.
- Well, if you'll excuse me.
- Certainly.
We'll dine together.
Wonderful lad.
His mother's a great friend of the family.
Lady Young. Wonderful horsewoman, also.
Trains them herself, if you can imagine.
I'll try.
I'm sorry, Madam. I do not speak French.
Oh, for shame, Captain.
That's uncivilized of you.
I humbly apologize.
the Lady Gwendolyn Arbast.
- Milady.
- Delighted to meet you, Captain.
May I compliment you upon your
distinguished record of command?
The compliment's
slightly premature, Milady.
This is my first captaincy.
- The first of many, I'm sure.
- Thank you.
Good luck, Captain.
Come along, Therese.
Excuse me, sir.
No, don't bother
to come with us, Fletcher.
Last minute attentions are always hollow
and you are insincere to start with.
Oh, dear.
Well, sir,
I understand we're taking this river scow
halfway round the world
on a grocer's errand.
I take a somewhat different view.
So do their Lordships of the Admiralty.
- Do they really? How extraordinary.
- Tell me,
what is a man of your particular interests
doing in the navy?
Oh, process of elimination.
There's something dusty about the army
and affairs of state are rather a bore.
You know, one must do something.
Here's a fellow
trying to catch your eye, sir.
Looks like an embalmer.
Beg pardon, sir. Might I have a word?
- Are you our gardener from Kew?
- Yes, sir. Brown, sir.
- Good. Found your quarters yet?
- No, sir.
Get him a good billet.
This is the most important man aboard.
- Aye, aye, sir.
- Well, I'm hardly that, but thank you, sir.
I have a message for you, sir,
from our chief botanist.
Well, what is it?
He has reached the conclusion that
the breadfruit has a dormant period, sir.
According to his experiments,
it begins some time in October.
A dormant period?
Four or five months
when the fruit cannot be transplanted.
The cuttings die.
Well, October's some way off.
That shouldn't worry us,
unless your botanist
Exactly, sir.
- Mr. Christian.
- Yes, sir?
Oh, sir,
does it really matter
when these vegetables arrive in Jamaica?
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"Mutiny on the Bounty" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 Sep. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/mutiny_on_the_bounty_14285>.
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