Treasure Island

Synopsis: Former pirate Billy Bones boards at the seaside inn operated by Jim Hawkins and his mother and confides his dread of discovery by his old cohorts to the young boy. After Bones' death, Jim shares his treasure map with the reputable gentry, Dr. Livesey and Squire Trelawney, who organize an expedition to recover the buried loot. Long John Silver, a charming but ruthless rogue, is able to infiltrate the ship with his pirate co-conspirators and mercilessly murders loyal crew members. In the subsequent struggle with the mutineers over the buried gold, half-witted marooned pirate Ben Gunn may hold the key to victory.
Genre: Adventure, Family
Director(s): Victor Fleming
Production: Warner Home Video
 
IMDB:
7.2
Rotten Tomatoes:
100%
NOT RATED
Year:
1934
110 min
1,127 Views


- Happy birthday, Mrs. Hawkins.

- Yes, Mrs. Hawkins.

Younger every year.

None of your frippery, John Harrow.

But music and friends do make you feel...

- Where's Jim?

- He's in the kitchen, I think.

Just put a head on that one, John.

It's going to thunder and lightning.

Then you best go

lock yourself up in a closet.

You made that cake?

No, I didn't.

And I'll thank you not to say I did.

Jim Hawkins made a cake!

Jim Hawkins made a cake!

No, I didn't.

Only girls make cakes.

My mother made this cake herself.

Surely she had to have

a cake for her birthday.

Jim Hawkins dropped a cake!

Jim Hawkins dropped a cake!

Jim Hawkins dropped a cake!

Stop following me around.

Upon my soul!

Why, Jim, you didn't go and bake a...?

Here's the cake you made, Mother.

I trust it's good.

It's the best cake ever.

I raise a mug to Jim Hawkins,

proprietor of the Admiral Benbow.

- Jim.

- Speech!

- Come on, get up.

- Speech, speech.

Well, I don't know what to say,

but ever since Father died...

...and with Mother having to do the work,

I'm truly glad each time she gets older.

I mean, then I get older too.

And soon I'll be able to do all the work

and won't have to make speeches.

Here she comes.

Everybody to the taproom.

We'll cut the cake in there.

Everybody take a seat.

Oh, Jim, there go the shutters.

- Go up and close them, will you?

- At your service, ma'am.

- Now what?

- I'm scared. Aren't you scared?

No, I'm not.

It's girls that make me nervous.

Why don't you go downstairs,

where there's more room to be scared in.

- I want a bunk with a sea view.

- This way, sir.

Have you seen this man

around here before?

He looks like a seafaring man.

He certainly doesn't belong

to these parts.

Hey!

I want a noggin of rum.

Yes, sir.

Mind, you clod.

Have an eye to that chest.

Here. Now, you never made this voyage,

you understand?

You never seen me

and you don't know nothing.

Get out.

What are you looking for?

Strangers, sonny, strangers.

I don't like strangers

coming aboard me suddenly.

Makes my spine jump

like a porpoise, it does.

- What might your name be?

- Jim Hawkins.

Now, look here, Jim,

you and me's going to be mates.

You'll get a silver

four-penny bit every month...

...if you watches out for strangers and

comes and lets the old captain know...

...when they tops the horizon.

- Well, what manner of strangers?

- Seafaring men.

Well, all seafaring men?

No, no, no, son.

There's a special cut of the jib

to these seafaring men.

But most especially, I want you

to keep your eye open...

...for a seafaring man with one leg.

- A seafaring man with one leg?

- Aye.

Upon my word, sir, what shall I

tell them? What do they want?

Never you mind what they want.

You go on down below

and get me a noggin of rum.

A double noggin, Jim,

because I'm becalmed.

Becalmed on a sea of troubles,

and I've got to fill my sails again.

Yes, sir.

Who is he, Jim? What did he say?

I don't know. Something about seafaring

men with no ears and no legs and no...

Hey, drop anchor, matey.

We'll fill the cask where you lie.

Rum for all hands, say I.

Here's a new port all full of

pretty wenches...

...and strong young buckoes.

Clear the decks for pleasant action.

Fill a pretty belly with grog

and that's what makes the world...

...spin on its poles, say I.

Hey, belay there.

- The rum.

- I'm not much on strong liquor, sir.

Besides, we have to go now.

It's getting...

"Go," say ye?

You'll stay.

You'll all stay.

Sit yourselves down on your binnacles.

Jim, matey, the rum.

I ain't like all seafaring men.

Genteel, I am, and a

dove at heart, mates.

Why, I know some seafaring men,

them as boarded a Spanish brig...

...all loaded down with

Castilian dons and their beauteous ladies.

And what did they do?

Genteel like me, ye thinks?

No. They slices them dons

like bread loaves...

...and feeds them to the sharks.

And what did they do

to the beauteous ladies?

Why, after courting their favor,

as it were...

...saving your presence, matey...

...they slits the veins

of their pearly white arms...

...and uses their blue blood

to warm their rum.

And then what did they do, matey?

Bless my soul, sir, what else was left?

There was the song, Jim.

Singing by all hands.

Now, come on. We'll all tip the stave.

Come on!

Come on, sing!

Bottle of rum, you old hag!

- Bottle of rum!

- "Bottle of rum!"

We'll tip it again now. Come on!

- Dr. Livesey.

- Mrs. Hawkins.

It was Mother's birthday. We were just

having a little entertainment, doctor.

Well, my compliments, Mrs. Hawkins.

- A little brandy, Jim.

- My pleasure, sir.

Come on, mates. Now we'll tip it again.

- Thought sure we were in for a storm, but...

- Hey! Silence there between decks.

You addressing me, sir?

Is it blowing a gale of wind

you can't hear me? What did I say?

I have only this to say:

I don't know you. But by your look,

if you continue drinking rum...

...the world will soon be rid

of a very dirty scoundrel.

I'll split you double, you...

If you do not lower that cutlass...

...I promise on my honor that you

shall hang at the next assizes.

And furthermore, sir...

...I'm not only a doctor,

I'm magistrate here.

And if I catch another breath

of complaint against you...

...if only for a piece of incivility like this,

I'll have you routed out of here.

Let that suffice?

I ask your patience, sir.

Just a squall

from a poor old sailor man...

...who took too much

rum over his bowsprit.

I ask your pardon.

It was a nice party.

Don't worry, Mrs. Hawkins. Don't worry.

- Goodbye.

- Thank you.

Praise be, Jim, the man was

only full of talk.

But bless my soul, sir.

He certainly can sing.

Well, sonny.

Come here.

Come here, sonny. A little closer.

Here.

- Now, is this here table for my mate Bill?

- I don't know your mate Bill.

- But don't Bill live here?

- No. Nobody but the captain.

Oh, captain, it is?

Truly, sir. I can...

Here comes my old mate Bill now.

Bless his heart, to be sure.

Jim, lad! The rum.

I'm becalmed again.

Come, Bill. You know me.

You know an old shipmate, surely.

- Black Dog.

- Black Dog as ever was.

Come for to see his old shipmate Billy.

- Well, speak up.

- The porter, sonny. Porter.

Well?

Now, Bill, I've been after you, now.

No, by the powers,

and there's an end to it!

If it comes to swinging,

swing one, swing all.

I'll part your dirty wig!

Out, you blubberous barnacle.

Next time I'll sever your gullet.

- Humor him, Jim. I'll be back.

- Where you going?

To Mr. Doolittle's.

I'll get him to ride to Livesey's...

...so he and his constables can come

and get that man out of here at once.

Rum, Jim. Rum.

Are you hurt?

I gotta get away from here, Jim.

I gotta slip my hawsers.

Captain, you've been drinking too much.

Remember, the doctor said...

Doctors is all swabs.

I've lived on rum, I tell you.

It's been meat and drink to me,

man and wife.

And I needs rum now, Jim.

- Mother locked up all the rum. She said...

Rate this script:3.5 / 2 votes

Robert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson (13 November 1850 – 3 December 1894) was a Scottish novelist, poet, essayist, musician and travel writer. His most famous works are Treasure Island, Kidnapped, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and A Child's Garden of Verses. Stevenson was a literary celebrity during his lifetime, and now ranks as the 26th most translated author in the world. His works have been admired by many other writers, including Jorge Luis Borges, Bertolt Brecht, Marcel Proust, Arthur Conan Doyle, Henry James, Cesare Pavese, Emilio Salgari, Ernest Hemingway, Rudyard Kipling, Jack London, Vladimir Nabokov, J. M. Barrie, and G. K. Chesterton, who said that Stevenson "seemed to pick the right word up on the point of his pen, like a man playing spillikins". more…

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