The Long Voyage Home Page #2

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It's only a scratch,

hit his head on the deck when he fell.

Take him aft. I'll bandage him up.

Look at this, sir.

So that's the trouble, Driscoll.

Take him aft.

- You'll get no money for this last work. | - But...

I'll teach you to smuggle rum on a ship | and start a riot.

senor Capitan.

You know the agreement. Rum, no money.

senor.

These sailors, they bring the rum.

- We bring no rum. | - You're lying!

Clear out! Your boat's alongside. | Get along.

None of your lip, or I'll put you ashore | and have you locked up.

Hop it.

Go on. Hop it. Come on. Move 'em on!

Come on, ladies. Come on.

Mate say we sail at sunrise.

For England.

American port first for cargo, | then we go home.

Then I go home.

Time to turn in, Smitty.

Hello, Captain. How are you? | That's your ship? That's good.

I can just see Ole behind that plow.

Ole be putting a rudder on the horse's tail

and a compass on the plow,

so that he'll not be digging potatoes | when it's turnips he's after.

Hey, Ole, show us how | you used to call them pigs.

If I was a swine, I'd be running | the other way after that devilin' screech.

You won't go home. You'll get drunk.

The only way you'll see that farm | is through a bottle.

You stop that.

Stop what, square-head?

You don't make a fool of Ole.

He's going home. | By devil, you've got no home.

I got no home. | None of us got a home but Ole.

And if you stop him, I fight you.

You go home, Ole.

Your mother is old. Where's my hat?

She needs you. She wants you. | You don't go anymore on sailing.

That's no good, Ole. That's no good.

You go home to your mother.

She's old, and she needs you.

Yeah, I go home.

You go home.

And here are your instructions | for the stowage of high explosives.

- High explosives. | - Are your cargo holds quite dry?

Oh, yes.

I'm not worried | about keeping the cargo dry,

but about getting through the war zone.

We haven't enough speed | to run away from a rowboat.

Not even a machine gun | to make a fight of it.

If anything hits us below the waterline, | we'd go up like a kite.

Nevertheless,

every ship that gets to England | is helping to win the war.

And every officer and man | in the merchant marine is doing his bit.

- Unsung heroes... | - Is this when you want us to sail?

Oh, yes. Time is very important, you know.

Is it?

Unsung heroes.

Like a curse!

Hey, Yank. Drisk.

Come here.

- Hey. Hey, did you know about this? | - What are you talking about?

I was wondering | what all them blooming uniformed guards

were hanging around for.

- That explains it. | - TNT.

TNT, it's high explosives.

It's the same thing, isn't it?

It's worse. It's ammunition.

- By jiminy Christmas. | - The devil with it.

Load up an old hooker like this | full of that blooming stuff

and what is she? Just a bomb!

A great, big dynamite bomb!

I quit!

Well, we're all quitting, I'm thinking.

I'm through.

Captain wants you out, men. | Everybody out.

Sir, what's the meaning of this?

Captain will answer your questions.

But we didn't sign on for the kind...

- Okay, hop it. He's waiting. | - Well, so are we.

All right, let the old man himself explain...

By devil, I quit!

I ain't gonna sign on this old tub again.

As far as this job's concerned, | you men haven't got any names.

You're just so many hands,

just as I am a boss | to see this cargo gets to England.

If it doesn't get there, | it'll be missed, but we won't.

Now I know it's the usual thing | for the fo'c's'le hands to grouse.

So if anybody's got | any objection to what I've said,

well, step forward. Let's hear it.

Right. Well from now on | till you're paid off in London,

you get 25% bonus on your wages.

There's one thing more.

Owing to circumstances | over which I've got no control,

nobody is allowed to leave the ship.

May I ask, sir, | why are we deprived of shore leave?

For your own safety.

I don't want the cargo | talked about ashore.

I think I can be trusted, sir.

When you're drunk?

I maintain, sir, that we're entitled | to one night ashore before sailing.

Yeah, I maintain | you've said enough, Smith.

I'm as interested in the welfare | of my ship's crew as you are.

No more of your lip.

Go on. Back to your work.

Roust out, Cocky.

Can't you let a man sleep?

What about the rest of us? | The old man wants his coffee.

That means he's going to the bridge. | And that means we're gonna sail.

Shake a leg!

Can't let a man sleep.

I'll expose him.

Coffee!

- Well, Captain, goodbye and good luck. | - Goodbye, thank you.

Are you quite sure you won't want a pilot?

No, no pilot.

bon voyage. | - Goodbye.

Goodbye.

All clear!

Glencairn. | - Let's take him aboard!

On your feet!

Take it away!

One of your men, isn't he, mate?

Yes. Get aboard, Smith!

Get aboard. Take it away!

Good night, Drisk.

Good night, Donkeyman. | Sweet dreams, too.

Full speed ahead, Mister.

Alter course.

East by north. Half knot.

East by north. Half knot.

Stop that noise!

You square-headed ape.

He was playing soft, Drisk.

Slow her down a few turns.

By golly, I would hate to be | on this old tub in rough weather.

Hey, Cocky. Hurry up that Scotch.

Come on! Let's shake a leg!

Come on, Old Murphy. I'll help you. | Come on.

Boys, coming... There you are. | Now, there you are.

Them sea biscuits | would break the tooth of a lion

if he had the misfortune of biting one.

Nothing but scarf upon these rusty...

Swill, that's right.

It's a starvation ship. My last trip!

Plenty of work and nothing to eat.

And the owners riding around in carriages.

I think it's that blasted cook.

Fresh meat for the officers | and hash for the men. That's his notion.

Hash, hash! Stew, stew!

Marmalade, by jiminy!

We hit something?

It was the anchor.

The anchor's broke loose!

- Contact... | - Yank!

Mr. Graves?

Steady kid.

Let me... Let me lie down.

I need to lie down.

Excuse me, sir,

but the men in the fo'c's'le are asking | if you'll take another look at the sick man.

Is he worse?

He's spitting blood again, sir. | Can you do anything for him, sir?

Well, as far as I can make out,

those splintered ribs | have punctured his lung.

Can you do anything about that, Mister?

- Why, no, sir. | - No, neither can I,

and I don't think I'm fooling anybody, | pretending to be a doctor.

Damn! If it had only happened | a week later, we might have made port.

As it is...

All right, Mister. When you leave, | first tell him to come here.

I'll go forward and see what I can do.

Yes, sir.

A book and a box of physic!

Suffering Moses! | It's colder than kittens up there.

How's Yank, Drisk?

- Your wheel, Scotty. | - Aye.

Who's watching lookout?

Me and Drisk.

Oh, it's nothing but dirty weather | this whole voyage.

Are you feeling better now, Yank?

You look better. Much better.

Am I telling him a lie?

- Sleep done you good, Yank. | - Sure it has.

In no time at all now,

you'll be having a pint a beer | with us in Limehouse.

What are you all lying for?

You think I'm afraid?

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