The Princess and the Pirate Page #8

Synopsis: Princess Margaret is travelling incognito to elope with her true love instead of marrying the man her father has betrothed her to. On the high seas, her ship is attacked by pirates who know her identity and plan to kidnap her and hold her for a king's ransom. Little do the cutthroats know that she will be rescued by that unlikeliest of knights errant, Sylvester the Great, who will lead them on a merry, and madcap, chase.
Production: RKO Pictures
 
IMDB:
7.0
APPROVED
Year:
1944
94 min
254 Views


- and I have a plan for our escape.

- Yeah, I know your plans.

- I bet this time we chew each other up.

- This is a clever plan, though risky.

- Now wait a minute, I got a plan, too.

- Not as good as mine.

I hate arguments, don't you?

If I didn't know who you was,

I wouldn't know who you was.

Say, maybe this is the eighth face

I've been looking for. Come on.

Where are we going?

We've got no time for the Princess.

I've got to get you and the map out.

You take the map and I'll get the girl.

No, we can't do that, can we?

- Halt.

- Out of my way, you lubberly oaf...

or I'll slit your gullet

and shove it down your gizzard.

Begging your pardon.

I have orders to let no one in...

Quiet! You mangy hound, a pox on you!

I'll flay thy bones.

- I'll carve thy filthy hide into ribbons.

- Yes, Capt. Barat.

Come, my proud beauty! A pox on you.

Avast, ahoy, you'll come with me

before I slit thy gullet.

Sylvester, what's the matter with you?

Where did you pick up

that kind of language?

- You didn't fool her.

- Somebody tipped her off.

Now I understand.

You were supposed to be The Hook.

Yeah, that's the general idea.

Not bad, boot hook.

I've got brains. We better get out of here,

before they scatter all over the joint.

Halt! Stop those men.

Where you going?

And you, get back to your room.

You dare speak to The Hook that way?

He'll cut you to shreds.

- The whole scurvy lot of you.

- He will, will he?

Away, La Roche, a pox on thee.

The gypsy is slain.

You can have the blasted map

and the blasted treasure.

All I want is the blasted gal.

I'll see you around sometime.

You're not leaving, my good friend.

By the bait or spoon,

shiver my timbers, avast, ye lubbers.

Ye dare stand in my way

and I take this hook...

and I'll rip out your innards.

So you're frightened.

You see, I have the upper hand, I...

No wonder. "Made in Japan."

Enough of this masquerade.

- To the dungeons with them.

- Yeah? You think you can take me alive?

How did you know?

Wait till I get you outside.

Have no fear, Captain.

- We'll wipe out these curs and set sail.

- Go to, my lad, go to.

- Aye.

- I'm going, too.

Carry Capt. Barat to the ship at once.

This wench, take her along, too,

Captain's orders.

- Capt. Barat, and wounded.

- A present from the Governor.

That fat pig must think me dead.

But I shall return and teach him differently.

Give me that cloak.

Remove your shoes.

Capt. Barat, you've been hurt.

Aye, I'll flay their bones, a pox on them all.

La Roche shall pay for this treachery.

I'll chop off his liver.

Say, that might be pretty good,

chopped liver.

- Stand guard till we cast off.

- Aye, aye, sir.

Better make haste,

or La Roche and his troops will be upon us.

La Roche, a pox on him, I'll flay his bones.

I'll slit his gullet,

I'll bury my hook in his gizzard.

I'll carve him to ribbons, I'll slay his gullet.

I'll rip open his gizzard.

I'll hoist him from the yardarm...

and let the crows pick out his eyes.

I'll return with 1,000 men...

and hang La Roche from his own gallows.

- Stand guard till we cast off.

- Aye, aye.

Stand by yon main topsail halyards!

Hang sheets and places.

Captain, we stand ready to sail.

- What orders?

- Oh, yeah. I mean, aye, aye.

Avast the mainsail, hoist the rudder...

scuttle the portholes, unfurl the anchor,

and shiver my timbers.

Any questions? I mean, aye!

Methinks, Captain, the blow on thy head

has cluttered thy mind for the moment.

Methinks a little rest.

Methinks so, too.

Get this ship out of the harbor...

- and head north for Jamaica.

- North to Jamaica!

But, Captain, the treasure lies south.

To the north lies danger.

To the south is safety.

We're always certain of friends in the south.

Oh, a Democrat?

Fetch me the Princess Margaret.

Bring her to my cabin.

- I've got the Parcheesi board all set up.

- Aye, aye, sir.

Let go of your forward lines. Down helm.

Well done, Pedro.

We're under sail

before La Roche can gather his wits.

Head due south.

But Captain,

did you not want us to head north?

You're not here to question, but to obey.

- South, I say.

- Aye, aye, sir.

- Head due south.

- South it is, sir.

- Captain, here is Princess Margaret.

- Take her below and put her in irons.

I'll settle with her later.

- But, Captain I thought you told...

- What?

Does everybody aboard

question my orders?

Take her below!

Why do you stare?

Anybody would think

there's something peculiar about me.

I will dress. Perhaps then

you will not find me so amusing.

Where's the Princess?

- I put her in irons as you ordered.

- That's fine.

Irons? I told you to bring her to my cabin.

- Hurry or I'll slit your gullet.

- Aye, aye, sir.

Give me that bottle.

Aye, hatch the poop deck.

Don't push me around.

- What's going on here?

- Here's the Princess, Captain.

What? You stupid pig!

- Put her in irons!

- But Captain, you told me...

- Put her in irons.

- Give me back my bottle.

Hear this, you men,

I don't want to see the Princess...

until I give the order. Understand?

Where's the Princess?

- Well, where is she?

- Marshal took her away as you ordered.

- Have him bring her back. Immediately!

- Yes, sir.

Begging your pardon, Captain...

but didn't you just have your underwear on?

I still got it on. What am I, a nudist?

Here she is, Captain.

What, again? Take her away.

Take her away, you bumbling baboon.

Are you all mad as well as deaf?

Where's the Princess?

Who do you think you're monkeying

around with? I'm The Hook.

H-O-O-K-E. Fetch me the Princess.

I grow impatient.

For a minute, I thought it was busted.

- So, gypsy, we meet again.

- Wait a minute, you're dead.

- Am I?

- No, I guess it's me.

You know, Sylvester...

I feel that all these terrible things that have

happened to you have been my fault.

Isn't that funny, I feel the same way.

I'm going to do something

to make it up to you.

It better be good.

These ain't charm bracelets we're wearing.

You got a nail file?

Sylvester, I was saving this for myself.

- It contains only one bullet.

- Yeah, I know how you feel, Princess.

Make it fast. I don't want to watch you die.

Oh, no, Sylvester.

At least I know

what The Hook has in store for me.

But you, I shudder to think

what he'll do to you.

- Here.

- No, I must be brave and face it like a man.

- Close your eyes and I'll shoot you.

- No, I can't let you.

- I'll shoot you.

- Now, wait a minute.

- Where are you going to do it?

- It'll be merciful, Sylvester.

- Right through the brain.

- Merciful?

Couldn't you just shoot me in the foot

and let me bleed to death slowly?

Goodbye, my dear. This is fini.

The curtain rings down

on the great Sylvester.

Not to cheering crowds,

but in a filthy dungeon.

- But...

- Tell them I died nobly, bravely.

- But Sylvester, I didn't shoot you.

- What?

It must be La Roche, he's trailed us.

He'll have his revenge this night. Fire at will.

Blast them from the sea.

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Don Hartman

Samuel Donald Hartman (18 November 1900, New York - 23 March 1958, Palm Springs, California) was an American screenwriter and director. He and Stephen Morehouse Avery were nominated for the Academy Award for Best Story for The Gay Deception (1935). more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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