Mutiny on the Bounty

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.

It altered European economy.

Breadfruit may alter it again.

I wonder what it tastes like.

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.

- I sailed under him.

- 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

when my orders reached me.

- 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.

May I present Captain Bligh,

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

is wrong about the date.

Exactly, sir.

- Mr. Christian.

- Yes, sir?

Oh, sir,

does it really matter

when these vegetables arrive in Jamaica?

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