Original subtitles

Up your oars!

Jump to it! Press gang muster on the jetty.

I shall return to Defiant in three hours.

- We'll have the crew ready to serve. - Thank you, Mr. Scott-Padget.

Press gang!

Stop him!

Catch him! Don't let him get away!

- Press gangs are busy tonight. - Yes, probably ours.

We're a few men short. Well, a few dozen.

Things get worse. The English sailor's lost his taste for fighting.

Maybe he's lost taste for the conditions in which he fights.

- Must have discipline. - His Majesty's Navy uses a heavy hand.

At times, perhaps too heavy.

Apart from finer feelings, it could be dangerous.

The lower deck's like a prison.

No freedom, irregular pay, and food that even rats won't touch.

- I speak out of turn. - True, every word.

We've enough trouble without provocation.

Still, that's for the Admiralty to settle.

- Sailing orders, Crawford. - Thank you, sir.

- I report to Jarvis in Corsica? - Correct. With all possible speed.

Try to avoid any side issues on the way.

How's your glass?

Your first lieutenant, Mr. Scott-Padget...

- ...what do you make of him? - He is both efficient and keen.

So keen, he's out with the press gang.

I hate tattling.

No cursing his efficiency and devotion to duty, but I should warn you--

If you'll forgive me, sir, I'd prefer to make up my own mind.

No. Don't!

You mustn't resist the king's pressmen.

We've only been married three days.

- You don't want him! He's not a sailor. - We shall teach him.

Don't take him from me. You can't!

- I beseech you. Have pity on us. - Bring him along.

These men are from the Defiant.

Press gang.

- From our ship. - We're Navy, they can't touch us.

We'd have some explaining to do.

- Come with us. - You can't, he's a gentleman.

Of course I am. Take your hands off me.

- Sir? Am I in error? - Thank heaven you're here.

- You can see I'm a gentleman. - Look at his lovely clothes.

- Take him, Dawlish. - But you can't.

- Vizard, you sail tomorrow? - Yeah, Mediterranean.

- So you should count us out for now. - No need. Spread word to that fleet.

If both fleets struck at once, we'd win our demands overnight!

- You'll act soon, then? - Yes, soon every ship will mutiny.

- Before spring? - Depends. How's your crew?

Forty more pledges.

- We have half the ship already. - Good.

Poor men, driven like cattle.

I don't understand it. Having to be pressed to go to sea?

- Not everyone wants to leave home. - Think of it!

Sailing the Defiant and fighting the French.

You sound just like your father.

Anyway, the admiral may not agree to let you go.

Father's back.

- What did the admiral say? - Say?

About Harvey.

No objection. After all, it's the custom.

- Time to find your sea legs. - Thank you.

- Get your things. We'll get settled. - I'm ready.

Harvey.

Sorry, Mother.

Goodbye, my dear.

Look after yourself.

- Goodbye, Mother. - Wait for me below.

- He'll find things a bit different. - He's only 12.

Don't worry. He'll be fine.

How long this time? A year?

- Less, perhaps. - Only "perhaps"?

- I hate goodbyes on the jetty. - I know what you'll say.

- So I'll take my leave now. - You left me days ago...

...when you caught sight of the sea.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

God keep you both.

- What do you think of her? - She's beautiful.

Toss your oars up.

We should say goodbye. Once we sail, we won't have a chance to talk.

Goodbye, Father.

Goodbye, Harvey.

- Boat! - Aye, aye, sir.

Carry on, Mr. Crawford.

Boat ahoy!

Captain's jolly boat coming alongside, sir.

- Full company aboard. - Good. This is Midshipman Crawford.

You must be proud to serve with your father.

Take the captain's son below and introduce him to his messmates.

Stand by to hoist.

Pass the word that Crawford is to be treated the same.

Understood, sir.

Lots of women aboard. Wives, I reckon.

Hello, my love.

Who are they?

Them? They're the pressed men. Follow me.

Bye-bye, love.

Get those wretched women off!

- Hoist away! - Dawlish! Swing them over!

- Clear the deck! - See you next trip.

- All supplies aboard, sir. - Thank you. Parade the recruits.

- Parade recruits! - On deck.

Look lively, will you? Come on, come on.

Fall in at the end of the lines.

- Where are you going? - I must see the captain.

Get in that line.

Recruits ready for inspection.

One wants to be put ashore, sir.

- I brought him myself. He's a fraud. - I'm as good as--

My antecedents are as honourable as your own.

- What's your name? - Percival Palliser Wagstaffe.

- Are you related to Admiral Wagstaffe? - He's a distant cousin.

He would speak for you? How well do you know him?

- Intimately. Often. - You visit him?

You claim that, do you? Do you also claim to be a madman?

- To visit someone who doesn't exist-- - Not exist? My cousin?

I just invented him.

What are you?

A clerk?

- Keep silence! - Yes, sir.

Well, I'm promised to study law.

Very well, Mr. Dawlish.

- Ready for inspection, sir. - Thank you.

The usual beach combings. It'll take hard work.

They haven't been sworn yet.

What does the surgeon say? Ah, Mr. Goss.

Well, they'll do. They'll do very well, sir.

- Excuse me. I appeal. - What?

- I'm a gentleman. - An impostor.

- I questioned him. Excuse me, sir. - Mr. Scott-Padget?

- I must ask you not to turn your back. - I apologize, sir.

- My other duties-- - Until dismissed, your duty is with me.

Lads, don't think it's the end. This ship has a fine crew.

Many were pressed like yourselves.

We have every hope of an exciting cruise and rich prizes.

Learn your duties, obey orders and no harm will come to you.

Remember, the only enemy is the Frenchman.

Read these men the Articles of War, they are compulsorily enlisted.

Now, you may proceed with your other duties.

Thank you, sir.

Muster on the forecastle. I'll read the Articles.

Turn forward and follow me.

Get them moving! Use your starter!

Aye, aye, sir. Jump to it, you swabs!

Anchors aweigh!

Up aloft there. Come on. Look lively, lads.

Next!

Next!

Set the foresail.

Give her the mainsail.

Lift the jib!

Full speed!

- Don't look down, swab! - Keep them moving, damn your eyes!

Go higher, you scum!

Last man down sent for punishment!

Get them moving there!

Come on, there. Jump to it! Come on, jump to it!

That's not good enough. We'll do it again. Now.

Come on, up the rigging.

Get up! Come on now!

Up the rig, there.

Have they died up there? Keep it moving!

Much better. You've accomplished wonders with them.

- Thank you, sir. - Don't press them too hard.

Twelve minutes 45 seconds to beat. They'll do it this time.

- Is he badly hurt? - Leg broken, sir.

Get him to the surgeon.

- That'll be enough drill for today. - Carry on, down below.

- Dismiss the starboard watch! - Mr. Scott-Padget...

...will you have dinner with me?

- Starboard watch secure. - Thank you, sir.

- What about the man injured today? - Not too good.

I may have to take the leg off.

I'm sorry.

Mr. Scott-Padget asked if he can return to duty.

- You don't like him. - I've served with him before.

- When? - In the Beedle.Bad ship, that was.

Far too much flogging. There was a man killed.

- Under punishment? - Yes, sir.

I can deal with Mr. Scott-Padget.

Maybe, sir. Do you know what happened to the Beedle's captain?

The lordships of the Admiralty broke him and his two previous captains.

Influence?

When somebody of enormous power has a mistress...

...and that mistress has a son, the son has great influence at his back.

- I see. - He's a most brilliant young officer.

A future Drake with a vicious streak and a silver spoon.

Sir, it could be his making.

Good evening. Can I offer you some Madeira?

- Yes. - I'll be going.

Thank you, Mr. Goss.

Would you like to know our orders?

We join the fleet at Corsica, report to Admiral Jarvis.

Convoy duty. Orders say "with all possible dispatch."

We'll not put in at Gibraltar, but you'll have time to train.

I hope so. I'd like to practice gunnery next week.

Good.

I know how hard it is working up a green crew...

...but I'd like you to go easier on them.

The first few weeks, we use methods none of us like.

- You're questioning me. - I haven't said so.

I know the value of discipline.

- It's all that matters. - It's never all.

It can exist in a happy ship.

The ideal is always possible, sir. If the men cooperate.

I'm sure they will. I'll give you a toast!

To Defiant. An efficient and happy ship.

An efficient ship. And death to the French.

Depends on your gun drill.

Mr. D'Arblay, get them into position! Jumping about like jackrabbits!

Fire! Get back!

- Oh, sir, I never meant to-- - Sergeant! Put this man under arrest.

For making to strike an officer.

You'll be flogged for this. Six dozen lashes.

Wheatley, you're under arrest.

- You made to strike an officer? - No, sir. I wouldn't have.

- I've learned that much. - But you did put up your fists?

Well, answer me!

An impulse, instantly regretted.

- What was that? - An impulse, sir. Instantly regretted.

- Where did you learn that phrase? - It's true, sir.

Threatening officers is serious, but given your clean sheet...

...I'll be lenient. Two dozen lashes.

- I said six. - March him out.

Right turn. Forward march.

There were many people who heard me say six.

It was not your decision to make.

- Did you take note of that phrase? - Phrase, sir?

"An impulse, instantly regretted."

It may mean nothing. But in my opinion, he'd been drilled in it.

- Drilled, sir? By whom? - I wish I knew.

- He remembered his piece. - It didn't save him, did it?

It helped. Only two dozen. Scott-Padget must have nigh run mad.

- You know what two dozen means? - Shut your mouth.

It means a soft captain. My old captain on the Swift...

...he never gave less than six dozen.

Yes, that's what he gave me.

Six dozen.

Look here!

All hands on deck to witness punishment!

Go on, jump to it!

Jump to it!

Ship's company, attention!

- Company ready to witness punishment. - Carry on.

- Prisoner ready, sir. - Commence punishment.

Start the roll!

One!

Two! Three!

Four! Five!

Six!

Seven! Eight!

Nine! Ten!

Eleven! Twelve!

Thirteen!

Fourteen!

Fifteen!

Sixteen!

Seventeen!

Eighteen!

Nineteen!

- Twenty! Twenty-one! - Only three more.

Look at your feet.

Twenty-three! Twenty-four!

- Punishment completed, sir. - Cut him down.

Aye, aye, sir. Cut him down.

Ship's company! Turn forward! Dismissed!

Fair weather, Mr. Ponsonby.

"I, Richard Dawlish, of His Majesty's ship, Defiant...

...do swear to be true to the cause...

...and serve on the counsel of action.

- Even to the laying down of my life." - Well done, Dawlish.

"Corsica, Leghorn, last remaining British bases." Message ends.

- Acknowledge. - Aye, aye, sir.

Grave news, sir. Napoleon's overrunning Italy.

Spain will be on his side.

- I presume you want to put in here. - Nothing changed our orders...

- No, but since-- - ...which are to proceed to Corsica.

Set the t'gallants.

Take over the watch, Mr. Ponsonby.

Sir.

- We should return to Gibraltar. - Have you set the t'gallants?

- No, not yet, sir. - Why not?

If we go to Corsica, we may sail into a trap.

- I have my orders. - Yes, sir...

...to join Admiral Jarvis, who may not be there.

- You're well informed. - He's bound to sail here to safety.

Here, he won't be trapped...

...or cut from his bases and supplies by the enemy fleet.

- Admiral Jarvis is no fool. - He'd be happy to hear you say so.

He would have done as I said.

Our responsibility is to carry out existing orders.

We're responsible for the ship.

To risk it for orders, instead of using imagination--

When you get your own ship, you can sail by imagination.

My ship will follow orders from the Admiralty.

Whatever the consequences?

You may have power over life and death of everyone on this ship.

- I warn you, if we come through this-- - Yes? If?

To have followed Admiralty orders may not be enough.

I will say this once.

I'll not be bullied, and I intend to be obeyed.

Your friends mean nothing to me.

While you serve this ship, they'll mean nothing to you.

You can go now.

- Steady as she goes! - Steady, sir.

Mr. Ponsonby, set t'gallants. Smartly, Ponsonby.

Aye, aye, sir. Topmen aloft!

- Set t'gallants! - I can.

Get them down. This isn't a nursery.

Aye, aye, sir. On deck, Mr. Pardoe! Mr. Crawford!

Mr. Crawford!

- Find the senior midshipman for me. - Mr. Kilpatrick, sir?

- Tell him to see me in the gunroom. - Aye, aye, sir.

Get that hatch open. Let some air into the magazine.

Did you hear what I said? Open that hatch.

But we had it open yesterday, sir.

I don't care if it was.

I'm giving you an order. Open that hatch!

- Orders is weekly. - Stand, you insolent dog!

Mr. Kilpatrick? Mr. Scott-Padget wants to see you.

- What's he want? - I don't know. He said now.

- Get that hatch open at once. - Aye, aye, sir.

Carry on, Sergeant Kneebone.

- Three more. - I've got seven.

- Only five. - Good enough.

Only a few more, and we'll have the whole ship.

- Now, we write our petition. - Petition!

- Why fear the word "mutiny"? - I'm not afraid of it if it fits...

...but it don't.

Seize one ship, that's mutiny. No one ever got away.

- Seize the fleet, nothing they can do. - They can't hang every man.

We'll make them listen to us. Until then...

...spread the gospel. Same as back at Spithead.

Yeah. Wait, and wait, and wait.

Yes, Evans. Wait. Until the time comes.

And when the time comes, Vizard-- Scott-Padget!

Mr. Kilpatrick, you've been before the board three times.

- Each time you've failed. - Yes, sir.

- What age are you, 33, 34? - Thirty-five.

Thirty-five.

- Your chances are getting slight. - Yes, sir.

Unless the board had reason to believe you had...

...special qualities.

- Special qualities, sir? - Ingenuity during difficulties...

...courage, loyalty to a particular officer...

...an officer with influence, who might use it.

Yes, sir. I think I see, sir.

You're in charge of disciplining midshipmen, right?

- Make them kiss a gunner's daughter. - No fear or favour.

How about Mr. Crawford? How does he take it?

- I've not had occasion-- - Not had occasion?

He's made of good stuff, he must be spirited.

Therefore, he must get into mischief.

If he gets into mischief, he must be punished.

The captain insisted on no favouritism.

- You heard him say that. - Yes, sir.

Well, be watchful, Mr. Kilpatrick.

- And diligent. - Yes, sir.

And if you ever need my advice, don't hesitate to ask.

Thank you, sir.

- Don't lie, son. - I didn't do it, sir.

- Are those your initials? - Yes, but I just made a scratch.

- You could hardly see it. - You did?

- You lied to me. - I thought....

- It's so marked-up anyway. - It shouldn't be.

There's a rule against defacing the table.

I've been lenient with you. Too lenient.

- Anything to say? - Only that...

...someone else must have--

- I have nothing to say. - Nothing?

The very time when you should have. We call that dumb insolence.

Bring the lamp closer, carpenter.

- There is a trace of worm. - I thought you should know.

Nothing a little whitewash won't cure.

It might make its way to the midshipmen's berth. You should look.

If you think it important. Somebody being taught his manners?

Overdoing it, isn't he?

- That will do. - Aye, sir.

All right, get up.

- What is he being punished for? - Cutting his initials on the table.

- Where is this trouble you mentioned? - Chapman!

All I see is a patch of uncoated timber. Is that all?

I thought you should see, sir.

- The wind's freshening. - Why have you reversed my orders?

- Sir? - I wanted the gallants set.

- But I find nothing. - I judged--

You judged, Mr. Scott-Padget? You judged?

- It's good seamanship. - You're impertinent.

I won't have my decisions questioned.

Go below until I give you permission to come on deck. Clear?

Yes, sir. Quite clear.

Mr. D'Arblay...

- ...set the gallants. - Aye, aye, sir. Set the gallants!

A beating every day for a week.

- Why won't the captain do something? - What can he do?

- You all right? - Thank you.

Come on, then. We'll go down together.

Easy now.

Muster on the gun deck. Move!

- These stripes are healing nicely. - They're still bloody painful, sir.

His own son, eh?

Can't the captain see what's going on?

Hey, you, come here. Sit down.

You said captain can't do anything. What did that mean?

- I was guessing-- - What's it mean?

If he went for Scott-Padget over this, there'd be a court-martial.

They'd prove he attacked an officer to protect his son.

That'd finish him. If Scott-Padget has influence, it'd be easily done.

- How much law do you know, lad? - I was just guessing.

So Scott-Padget's gonna rule the roost, run the ship his way.

- It's a chance. - What for?

Scott-Padget. Stab him in the back. Give him Jonah's toss.

- Don't be a fool. - Now look...

...would the captain care if he died?

We're after bigger things than one man.

And we'll get them with patience.

- That's the only word you know. - I know this:

If we touch one officer...

...our whole cause is lost.

Do you think he heard?

That old drunk? What's it matter?

- Didn't I tell you to clean this up? - I did.

You call this clean?

It seems I have to teach you another lesson. Come here.

- I hope I'm not disturbing you. - Not in the least, Mr. Goss.

I thought I should report that....

Report what?

Wheatley's recovering from punishment. The others are back on duty.

You told me all this yesterday.

Really, I wish, sir, to make a suggestion.

Well, forgive me if I-- What I mean is...

...if he could stay in the sick bay...

...he'd be out of their hands, you see.

- Who would be out of whose hands? - Your son.

- What are you trying to tell me? - I can hear everything.

My quarters are just opposite. These punishments--

Is my-- Is Mr. Crawford the only one punished?

No, but when two or three get beaten, he's always one of them.

It's got to stop. On the lower deck, men are beginning to think--

- Think what? - What I mean is--

Mr. Scott-Padget's compliments, sir.

He begs you for an audience, sir. At once, if possible.

He said it is of the most vital importance, sir.

- Mr. Crawford, go to sick bay. - No, sir, I'm not ill. Honestly.

Please, may I take him your answer, sir?

I'll deliver it myself.

- You asked to see me. - I didn't expect you to come.

I want to thrash you and clap you in irons...

...but that would suit you very well.

- I fail to understand, sir. - Do you?

I won't follow your previous captains onto the beach. Understood?

- Now, what do you want? - Only to be restored to duty.

- I am needed on the quarterdeck. - Why are you needed?

There's a sea running.

I've been listening to it. I know that I'm right.

You always have to be right.

So in case we have to reduce sail, may I return to the deck?

It is my place.

And my duty.

Your first duty on leaving this cabin...

...is to see all is well in the midshipmen's berth.

- But surely Mr. Kilpatrick-- - Will do as you tell him.

I want the boy left alone.

- He's taken more than enough. - You mean your son, sir?

You know very well I do.

I shall see to it for you, sir.

- May I now be returned to duty? - You may.

Scott-Padget!

Why are we not under full sail?

I judged it to be inadvisable, sir.

- Carry on working. - What do you want?

- You. - We need a lawyer.

- I'm not one yet. - You've studied law.

- You can read documents for us. - I might give advice--

- We want help with our petition. - For redress of grievances?

"Redress," that's the sort of word. And a lot of other words.

- Men have been here for years. - Why don't they leave?

Leave? Get caught and flogged like him?

- I won't join a mutiny. - It's not a mutiny.

- And you're gonna prove it. - You're taking the oath.

What are they doing there?

- What's this gathering? - Just making rope.

With these louts lying on it? Move!

Let's move it! Don't quit! Get moving! Watch out...

...or next time you'll get it.

I'm sorry. It's my fault.

- Yours? - I pulled on the rope, tripped him.

Don't have any more accidents, Vizard.

Or I'll have a look at your backbone.

Boatswain?

What's the matter? Are you crazy?

Vizard, I will join.

Good lad.

You'll be flogged for this. Sergeant!

- Take him forward, put him under guard. - Jones.

Another flogging.

Pass the word: We do a full tryout tomorrow at eight bells.

First Lieutenant said keep a sharp lookout to starboard.

You men on gun three, jump to it!

Station two marines in the after well deck at six bells.

- Steer east-nor'east. - Aye, aye.

- Mr. Scott-Padget. - Yes, sir.

- Have you noticed anything? - Noticed what, sir?

A number of small things. Like a man shouting without a sound.

- I don't know what you mean, sir. - All right.

He saw you do it.

- Why did you? - That's the signal. Three cheers.

- Next time, be careful. - When are we gonna do it?

- The real thing? - You'll be told.

We did what we said. We join the fleet in Corsica with something to show.

A fully-pledged ship.

Ready for action.

Not a single bloody ship.

Nothing in the harbor. Not a stick nor a spar.

Looks like we're on our own, then.

What happened to them? Where are they?

They must have sailed.

If there are no British ships, there will be French ones. We should go.

- We will. - Back to Gibraltar as I suggested?

- Bring her about, Mr. Scott-Padget. - Yes, sir.

Boatswain, stand by to wear ship!

Mr. Ponsonby...

...I want you to send Crawford into the tops for two days.

For punishment, sir?

Do as I tell you.

I wish to speak to the ship's company informally.

Muster all hands, if you please.

- All hands to the after well deck! - Come on! Jump to it!

Are we heading back to Gibraltar?

We'll stay on this course for the time being.

Well, lads, I've got some explaining to do.

We seemed to have lost the fleet.

I want you to know the orders for the fleet and for us...

...which are to escort a convoy of timber ships...

...from the far side of Italy back to England.

Timber to build ships of the line, and frigates.

More like her. Defiant.

We must go to the place of rendezvous...

...and see if the convoy is there. If it isn't, well, we tried.

If it is, we'll bring it back...

...in the face of Frenchmen, Spaniards...

...or anyone else who tries to stop us.

- Back to your duties. - Carry on!

Italy, Mr. Scott-Padget.

- Hello, I brought biscuits. - Thank you.

- How long's it been? - Day and a half.

- Scott-Padget's going soft. - Wasn't him. It was Ponsonby.

- Oh, why? - Pardoe, a ship!

Deck, there! Sail-ho! Starboard beam.

A frigate and a merchantman, both French, on the starboard beam!

Beat to quarters!

Mr. Scott-Padget, set all sails. Give her every stitch.

I'll not have an officer carrying a rope's end.

- All right there! Overhaul the gear! - Very good, sir.

Set the gallants and flying jib!

- One gun ready! - Two!

- Three ready! - Four!

- Five! - Cast loose!

- Forward your guns! - Heave!

- Ship ready and cleared for action! - Thank you.

Lads, we'll fight her as if all England were watching!

- Helm up! - Helm up, sir.

- Let her fall off a little more. - Aye, aye, sir.

Getting closer.

Stand fast! Take the wounded away!

Steady. Fire!

Steer small.

Aim for her masts!

Fire!

- Take over boarding party. - Aye, aye, sir.

Board!

Gun crews, stand by to board. Ponsonby.

Board!

Captain of Marines!

Tell the captain of Marines to board!

Marines, board!

The ship's ours! Now for the merchantman!

She's struck her colours! We'll take her as a prize!

Everything's in order, sir. Both ships.

Take him below, sergeant.

- The English fleet's in the Atlantic. - I don't believe it.

We may be the only English ship in the Mediterranean.

- Do you insist on the rendezvous? - I insist on carrying out my orders...

- ...which are to escort a convoy. - A French ship will be waiting.

- I can see it now. - You've been proved right once before.

Here, I feel you are wrong. There will be no French ship.

Only the fear of one.

- Sir! - Listen. They're celebrating already.

- Sir. - And why not?

There will be plenty of prize money for all hands with these two beauties.

- Pay attention. - I've detailed the crews to sail them.

The third lieutenant in charge of the frigate. Good luck, Mr. D'Arblay.

- A pleasant voyage to Rochefort. - Thank you.

- You must listen. - Kellahorn's leading the merchantman.

I've given him a junior midshipman to assist him.

Mr. Crawford.

Mr. Crawford?

- Take care of that ship. - Aye, aye, sir.

Get her back safely.

Pull away. Hoist away.

I thought you wanted the boy onboard with you.

I thought so too.

I made a mistake.

Now I've put it right.

Faster! Keep moving! Faster!

Jump to it, you lazy dogs!

- Jump to it! - Mr. Scott-Padget!

I got them to fight well yesterday.

I'll have no officer carrying or using a rope's end.

- I couldn't find Kilpatrick. - I'm suspending you.

- For the rope? - For disobeying an order.

I shall take steps that will astound you.

- You have astounded me many times. - What was that?

You need a hard lesson.

You'll keep watch. Four hours on and four hours off, day and night.

I'm a senior officer, not a midshipman.

Not a midshipman.

- I apologize-- - Damn you, get below!

- I only want to say-- - Still you argue! Mr. Ponsonby.

This officer will report every two hours, fully equipped...

...to the officer of the watch, who'll report to me. Now get below!

They've forgotten the petition already.

In our business, Scott-Padget was our best friend.

Carry on, Mr. Scott-Padget.

Officer has reported with all equipment correct.

Thank you. Small chance of a convoy still being here.

- Any change in course? - Not yet.

Sail ho! Deck, there!

Large sail, two points forward of the larboard beam!

- What is she? Can you tell? - She's a frigate, sir.

Hear that, Mr. Scott-Padget? A single frigate.

- Beat to quarters. - Aye, aye.

Beat to quarters!

They think it's a safe road.

We'll run with her. Bring us to nor'-nor'west.

Aye, aye, sir.

Steer nor'-nor'west!

- Number one ready! - Two!

- Three ready! - Four!

- Five! - All guns ready!

Fighting lanterns ready. Gun ports closed.

- She's Venetian. - Neutral, then?

Unless Venice has been overrun by the French. No flag.

No signal.

Why not?

She must see our colours.

She must've heard us clear for action.

Mr. Ponsonby, private night signal.

Hoist the night signal.

- No reply. - The gun ports are open, sir.

We can't wait for her broadside.

I'm just as suspicious as you, but we must be sure.

We can't expose the ship like this. We must fire now!

- All right. Run out your guns. - Aye, aye, sir.

But hold your fire!

Run out your guns!

Heave!

What ship are you?

We are His Majesty's ship Defiant.

What ship are you?

Fire party to number five gun!

Mr. Ponsonby! It's his arm. Get him below.

Hudson, King! Get the captain below!

The captain's been hit! Take your orders from me!

Ready!

Fire!

Who's that out there?

What's happening?

Goss.

- Has Defiant been taken? - Why, no, sir.

Whose-- Whose voices?

Mr. Scott-Padget, the captain.

Did Goss tell you?

- I took the Venetians. - Did we lose many men?

- A dozen or so. - And wounded: about threescore.

Excuse me, I'm needed.

Before she went down, we took a great deal off her.

Crates full, en route to France. But there's a much bigger prize.

Bring in the Frenchman!

You wouldn't believe it...

...but this figure is Colonel Giraud, a political advisor to Napoleon.

All right, take him away.

It's fortunate that Colonel Giraud omitted to destroy all his papers.

He knows of plans for the invasion of England.

- Does he know when? - Within the next few weeks, sir.

He must be sent to London.

Of course. After I make the necessary repairs, we shall make all speed.

- You've done extremely well. - Thank you, sir.

And, Mr. Scott-Padget...

...this crew serves well, if you don't drive them too hard.

I shall remember that, sir.

"--change our vile body, that it may be like His...

...according to the working whereby He can subdue all things to Himself."

That ends the burial service for those killed in action.

Turn forward and--

Stand by, all hands.

I haven't time for assembly, so this serves a second purpose.

Stand by to witness punishment.

All hands to witness punishment.

Two dozen.

- Just for looking at him. - Stow it!

- Commence the punishment! - Start the roll!

Keep low.

She'll take off our masts.

She'll lop them off!

Keep down. Keep down.

Goss, are you there?

I'm-- Boy, where's Mr. Goss?

On deck, sir. For the flogging.

Flogging? I authorized no flogging.

Twenty-three!

Twenty-four!

Punishment completed, sir! Two dozen lashes!

- Cut him down! - Aye, aye, sir.

Enjoy yourself? You won't for long!

I'll have your throat out, you bloody swine!

- Another two dozen! - Aye, aye, sir.

Another two dozen!

- What's wrong with you, Evans? - It's got worm in it.

I'll eat weevils and maggots, but not red worms!

Good food thrown on the deck. You're spoiled.

You know that's an offence.

A flogging offence. You know that too, don't you?

- He sent you. - What?

Yes, sir. I know it.

While we consider the best course of action...

...pick it up!

It's fit. Eat it.

Eat it. That's an order.

You'll swing for this, every man jack of you!

He's right. We'll hang for striking an officer.

We're all in it. We have to move fast.

What shall we do?

There is only one thing to do. Give the signal.

- When, now? - As soon as we can.

We'll go at eight bells, same as before.

Now, Morrison, get up on deck and warn everyone you meet.

Wagstaffe, go and tell Dawlish.

You? Get up aloft. This time let's hear you cheer.

- Who's on watch? - Ponsonby.

Where's Scott-Padget? Where is he?

All officers confined to their quarters, under guard by Marines.

Listen to me. I'm warning you.

You use that knife, and you're a dead man.

All right, lads. No rushing on deck.

And wait for the cheer.

Now, take some more, sir.

You'll stand better what I've got to do.

Now, get ready.

Now, grab him.

Look lively! Put your backs into it!

All right, you. Start on number four gun.

Hip-hip-hooray!

What's happening there?

- Leave me alone. - Shut your mouth.

Don't move, sir!

- This means your death, Vizard. - Take him below.

- Stand still! - Get out.

All right. No one will come in here.

Stay on the door.

The Frenchman.

What'd he say?

It's about us being revolutionaries like him.

The captain wants to see me about him now.

Got the petition? Take care of him.

We are revolutionaries, but they do things properly.

The French with the guillotine!

We've had this ship, and Scott-Padget's still alive!

Wait.

You can go now.

Come in.

You wish to see me, sir?

- Mr. Crawford? - Sit down.

Where are we heading?

Oh, my committee aren't decided yet.

Caribbean, South America.... Anywhere but England.

It's of England I wish to speak to you.

Colonel Giraud has vital information about an intended invasion.

- That's the truth. - Invasion?

We got the landing places and the approximate date out of him.

But he knows a great deal more.

He must be handed over for questioning at once.

Handed over? Who to?

Admiral Jackson is in command of the squadron blockading Rochefort.

Sail Defiant to Rochefort, is that what you're asking?

Sail her up to the squadron, alongside English men-of-war?

Yes, I am asking you to do that...

...if you care for the safety of your country.

If you don't wish to see her humiliated...

...and overrun by Frenchmen.

- Well, what will become of us? - How can I promise anything?

Their lordships at the Admiralty do not encourage mutiny.

- It was never intended this way. - What way, then?

A petition?

I see.

Bit late for petitions now.

All right, we'll sail to Rochefort.

- If we do, will you stand by us? - I'll do my best for you.

All of you.

I'll submit all the facts in your favour.

But I warn you...

...if any harm comes to a single officer....

A single officer.

I understand.

Very sorry you lost the arm, sir.

He's promised to speak for us when the time comes.

Can we trust him?

What, trust an officer?

- To hell with England! - I've got a family back home!

I don't want Frenchmen tramping through my house.

Sergeant, watch him. All our lives depend on this.

For the present, we're agreed.

We head for Rochefort and the blockade squadron.

Sails on starboard bow!

That's the squadron.

Deck, there! Flagship on the starboard bow!

- Strike topsail! - Lively, there!

Stand by to drop anchor!

Wagstaffe? Get your signals party ready.

Wait here.

You're mad!

You're all out of your minds!

- Dealing with an admiral? - Jackson's an honest man.

He'll listen to us.

He'll agree until we surrender.

- Then he'll hang us. - He won't. I served under him in '89--

You'll see.

Mr. Crawford.

Vizard?

- Which of us goes to the flagship? - None of us.

Why risk being clapped in irons? I'll make them come to us.

Let go of the anchor!

Boat ahoy!

- Flagship! - Both your oars, up!

Sergeant.

Take charge of the starboard gangway.

- Keep the prisoner below. - Flagship's jolly boat alongside!

- Take me to the captain! - This way, sir.

He came with the prize-ships, and stayed with the admiral.

- I've brought an urgent dispatch. - Give that to me.

It's happened!

They've done it at Spithead! The fleet mutinied!

- The Admiralty agreed to this? - Every item, sir.

All you asked for.

Look. Full pardon for all those involved...

...has been signed by His Majesty the king.

- This changes things, don't it? - It changes everything.

Well, lads, you heard the news!

What happens to us?

I'll go to the admiral, and I'm sure I can promise you everything you wish.

So long as I leave an orderly ship behind me.

I want all officers set free immediately! Bring them on deck!

You can't let them go! You're throwing it all away!

Jenkins, release the midshipmen!

- Release the officers. - Release the officers.

Please come on deck, sir.

- What happened? - Mutiny's over. Made right.

- Made right? - Orders from the fleet.

Take your hands off me.

You mutinous filth!

Don't think you can soon be forgiven.

- It's not easy. - Mr. Scott-Padget.

I would advise you to say no more.

You're compounding the offence! You're in it with them!

Your friends will be dealt with.

When their lordships hear what I have to say, you're done.

You're under arrest.

You've done for us all.

What's it matter? You all wanted him dead.

You're as bad as him.

And between you, you've finished all of us.

Give me a knife!

Get back!

We had everything, and he took it from us!

- Let's go. - While the fog's thick.

They're right, Vizard.

I want no sound. We're gonna weigh anchor and make sail.

- Weigh anchor. - Quiet now.

Anchor aweigh!

Set the courses!

Course west-sou'west.

- Course west-sou'west. - West-sou'west!

- Lookout! - Sail on the starboard quarter!

Sail? Where? I see only ships in anchor.

Deck, there! Sail is an enemy frigate! And another!

The French are out! The French!

Weigh anchor, beat to quarters. The French are on the move.

Make to all ships. Prepare to engage.

- They used the fog too. - They're heading for our squadron.

Look. That red glow.

A fire ship, set on course in the breeze.

- She'll take the flagship! - They can't move in time.

- Nor the others. - They're going to burn!

Vizard, I'm striking no bargains, and making no promises.

This ship is in your hands.

There's nothing to stop you from running, but the enemy is there.

- All hands muster aft! - Lively, there!

Sir.

Well, lads, you see what's happening.

The French are out of Rochefort, and we're the only English at sea.

We must let the flagship weigh anchor.

We are going for that fire ship. Beat your drums to quarters.

- Ponsonby, aim for the fire ship. - Yes, sir.

Come on, every man of you!

My God, sir. Look there.

Bring starboard guns to bear. Hit her with all you've got.

Steady.

- Fire. - Fire!

Get the wounded away!

- Open fire! - Fire!

Get this fire out of midship! Fire party!

Fire!

We'll go under the bows of the fire ship.

Wait! Hold your fire!

Hold your fire!

- Ease your helm. - Aye, aye, sir.

Steady.

Steady she goes, sir.

- Hard to starboard. - Hard to starboard, sir.

Stand by with grappling iron.

Now!

We've got her!

She's coming around!

They've done it!

Let go of grappling irons.

All larboard guns to bear on the fire ship.

Fire!

The flagship's under way and into the fight.

The French are running back into port! Look there, sir!

- They're a good crew, sir. - Signal from the flagship, sir.

Thank you, Defiant, for swift and honorable action.

"Thank you for swift and honorable action."

No mutineers...

...onboard this ship now, sir.

Bring her about, Mr. Ponsonby.

- We join the squadron. - Aye, aye, sir.

Stand by to go about!

Thank you, Mr. Crawford.

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