Mutiny on the Bounty Page #7

Something like that, yes. Yes.

Only, we're not the only people

onboard this ship

who can't swallow

much more of Mr. Bligh.

Ah, you're grasping at straws.

Who's gonna chuck him overboard?

This crew?

It wasn't the crew I was thinking of.

- Who then?

- Christian.

Mr. Christian.

He came after us and caught us, didn't he?

- It showed whose side he's on.

- Aye!

It showed he was a King's Officer,

that's all.

But I hope Bligh keeps pushing him,

like he did just now.

Christian will turn on him.

I know what he's thinking.

I can see it in his face.

And I do not intend to let him forget it.

Five months we'd spent in Tahiti.

They seemed more like five minutes.

The day of departure

would have been a black one for me,

as it was for everyone but Captain Bligh,

except that I didn't have a minute

to dwell on it.

The Bounty had become

a sea-going greenhouse

with over a thousand potted plants

to be tended.

Captain Bligh had doubled our quota,

thinking to please

the West Indies Company

and make amends for his tardiness.

Aboard ship, there is a danger

in having too much of anything,

for then one is bound to have

too little of something else.

Go along, Mills.

Oh, dear.

Our first casualty.

But we must resign ourselves

to losing a great many of them, sir.

There's just no way to stretch the water.

- We don't have enough water?

- In the ordinary way, plenty, sir.

But indoors, in this heat,

they need twice the amount.

But they would all live

if they had the extra ration?

Why, of course.

But I measured the kegs

most carefully, sir,

- and there just isn't enough...

- Yes, yes!

Give them all the water they need, Brown.

We'll not have another dead plant.

- Understand?

- Yes, sir.

Fourteen degrees, 37 minutes.

Belay that!

- And stow it away.

- Aye, aye, sir.

- Mr. Christian?

- Yes, sir.

I'll have a sentry posted at the water cask,

if you please.

Aye, aye, sir.

I want this slung

from the main t'gallant yardarm.

Any man desiring water

will climb and fetch it.

He may have just as much

as this ladle holds and no more.

Then he will replace the ladle

at the yardarm.

Are we short of water, sir?

- Do you wish me to repeat the order?

- No, sir. It's perfectly clear.

- A bit bewildering, but clear.

- Then do it.

Don't think about it.

Thinking seems to confuse you.

You go down and I'll follow.

All the way to the main t'gallant yardarm

for that spoonful of water, eh?

Yeah. A man would sweat more

than he can drink, wouldn't he?

That's a fine way to murder a fellow.

Mills?

Yes, sir?

If you feel free to speak disrespectfully

because you think

you've nothing more to lose,

you'd best think again.

The Captain may have a surprise for you.

Yes, sir. Yes, indeed, sir. He'll surprise me.

He'll surprise me

if he doesn't kill half the ship's company

before we get to Jamaica. Mark me, sir.

- I'll overlook what I heard this time, Mills.

- Thank you, sir.

- Birkett?

- Sir.

Take this aloft.

Aye, aye, sir.

- What's the matter with him?

- He's got a touch of fever.

I told the bos'n. He said, sweat it out.

- I'll be all right if I get some water.

- Who wouldn't?

He hasn't had a drop in two days.

He is too weak to climb.

Why didn't you speak up?

I'll get the ladle for you.

It's against orders. I've tried it.

Every man's got to fetch his own.

Sick men, too?

Well, that a kindly rule.

I'll go daft. I've got to get a drink.

Brown, you must know

that's unnecessary.

Drink all the water you need, Brown.

Don't try to climb the shrouds,

you don't know how.

If I may be allowed a protest, sir.

It's a matter of self-respect.

Damn your self-respect!

I'll not lose my gardener.

Damn my self-respect, sir?

Then, indeed, would I be damned.

I hope you're satisfied.

The masthead is no place for novices.

- Even a qualified hand...

- You murdering fool!

I'll tear your throat out of you. You...

Mr. Fryer, this man will be keelhauled.

We'll give him tonight to think about it,

and keelhaul him in the morning.

Take him below and put him in irons.

Birkett, Norton, lend a hand.

One.

One? Yes, that's correct, Mills.

One more bit of insolence

and you'll wish

that you'd fallen to the deck.

Fletcher, you heard him.

He can't do such a thing, can he?

Hereafter, you will announce yourself

with a knock, if you don't mind.

You don't deceive me, Fletcher.

You feel the same way as I do.

Why, he's monstrous.

I believe he's insane!

He's the headmaster, over-fond of caning.

And you're the third former

who can do nothing about it,

except to bleat

and to beat your head against the wall.

Now, stop being a nuisance.

You're not going to patronize me

about this, Fletcher, midshipman or no.

You must protest, Fletcher,

keelhauling is illegal!

It's tantamount to executing the fellow.

Well, what a champion

of the obvious you are.

Of course, he's executing the fellow.

What do you suppose my punishment

would be, were I to strike a captain?

Well, you know very well you should be

hanged, but that's not the point.

Well, that's exactly the point.

Now, just ask yourself.

Why should a common seaman

receive a lesser punishment

for exactly the same offense?

That doesn't alter the fact

that keelhauling is illegal.

Even a common seaman's

entitled to a trial.

Take a pew. I'll have you a go at chess.

You can have the white.

It might improve your game.

Oh, come off it, Ned, sit down.

The line's gone slack, sir.

Haul in.

There's nothing left to haul, sir.

Then cast him loose.

Get her under sail, again.

- Mr. Fryer?

- Sir.

- Headsails and courses.

- Aye, aye, sir.

Set headsail and courses!

Set headsail and courses.

Aye, aye, sir!

All hands make sail!

Set headsails and courses!

Man the tacks!

Man the braces!

Two.

- Would you care for a drink?

- No, thank you.

Well, what are you standing there for?

Did you come down here to watch

my Adam's apple bob about while I drink?

No, I'm thirsty.

- Well, take some water, then.

- I couldn't. I couldn't get it down.

Puking hell, you're a bore!

Is it a bore to want to help men

whose lives are being torn out of them

by a madman?

Why don't you have the carpenter

build you a cross,

so you can drag it about the ship

and put ashes on your head?

That would suit you, wouldn't it?

I've known you all my life,

but I've never really known you

till this moment.

You're just exactly what you seem to be.

A supercilious poseur

without the slightest trace of humanity

or compassion.

Are you quite finished

with your impertinence?

Not quite.

One needn't look further for your character

than the pomade in your hair.

You'll close your arrogant mouth,

Mr. Midshipman Young.

Or I'll have you on the rack.

That's a promise and an order.

Close that cask.

Damn your blood, close it!

Grab him, somebody.

The Captain! The Captain!

Oh, the water in the sea!

I told her I would leave!

Where is he?

Where is he?

If it comes, I'll swim down

Rate this script:5.0 / 2 votes