Original subtitles

Checking all digits.

Flesh beneath the second digit on right hand...

would indicate a struggle.

Upper-right arm intact.

Checking neck and throat.

He's been strangled.

Fucking outrage.

Oh, this is an appalling thing.

In my long year at sea,

I've never heard of a murder on a whaler.

Not outright murder.

And not of a cabin boy.

How in God's name is it that no one here noticed anything?

- Whoever did it should be whipped. - Too good for him.

That's enough!

- Where's the sailmaker? - Aye.

Stitch him in his shroud and we'll bury him betimes.

The rest of you men get back to your duties!

Aye, Captain.

He's missing a tooth, Captain.

So?

It is only recently missing. Look.

What kind of a crew has this bastard Baxter afflicted me with?

And the Lord spay come to thee.

Our Father...

...who art in heaven,

hallowed by Thy name,

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

on earth as itis in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

the power and the glory.

For ever and ever. Amen.

Amen.

Back to work.

Aye, Captain.

And what would your Master Swedenborg say on such atrocities?

We drifted away from the Lord.

Because the Lord allowed us to.

Don't get it jumbled up, Dr. Sumner.

The confusion and stupidity is all ours.

You see, we... we built a great bonfire to warm ourselves...

but then we complain the flames are too hot...

and we're blinded by smoke.

But to kill a young boy?

Now, what sense can be made of that?

The most important questions are the ones we cannot hope to answer with words.

You see, the words are like toys.

They amuse us and educate us for a time.

But when it comes to manhood...

we should give them up.

Words are all that we have.

If we give them up, we are no more than beasts.

If that is what you truly think, Dr. Sumner...

you must find an explanation on your own.

I would rather not think.

It will be pleasanter and easier.

But it seems I cannot help myself.

You better fucking pray there's enough ice up there, Mr. Baxter.

Get a hold!

Hastings on our larboard side.

Another island! Ice ahead!

Yeah?

I've been squeezing and grinding the bastards

and they've given up a name.

- Who? - McKendrick.

Samuel McKendrick, the carpenter?

And this last season, when he was shipped aboard the John O'Gaunt,

it was well known he was sharing his berth with a boat steerer.

A man. Name of Nesbit.

What, in plain sight?

It's dark in the fo'c's'le, as you know, Captain,

but let's just say noises were heard at night.

Noises of a certain unmistakable kind, I mean.

Bring me McKendrick.

Cavendish...

This mustn't interfere with what needs to be done.

With what you and I are on this vessel to do.

Fucking idiot.

How well did you know Joseph Hannah?

I doesn't know him hardly at all.

Well, you must have seen him in the fo'c's'le.

I've seen him, yeah, but I don't know him.

He's just a cabin boy.

Are you not fond of cabin boys?

Not especially.

Are you married, McKendrick? Do you have a wife waiting for you?

No, I ain't and I don't.

Not fond of women. Is that it?

No, it isn't that.

It's just that I haven't found a woman quite suitable for me yet.

Fucking hell.

I've heard it said that you prefer the company of men.

Is that true?

No.

It's not true.

I'm as red-blooded as the next man over.

Joseph Hannah was... sodomized

before he was killed.

I suppose you know that already.

Yes, some of the fellows at the fo'c's'le are saying that, sir. Yes.

Did you kill him?

Did you kill the cabin boy?

No. That's not me, sir.

But I have half-a-dozen men who would testify to his well-known reputation

as a buggerer of young boys.

If you're found lying,

it will not go well for you, I promise you that.

It hasn't ever been about boys.

Boys are not to my taste.

You expect us to believe you are so very particular

about whose arse you'd lay siege to?

After a pint or two of whiskey, you'd fuck your own grandad!

It's not about laying siege to anything!

You're a disgusting disgrace.

Whether you're a murderer or not, I should have you whipped.

- l ain't a murderer. - Well, you're a fucking liar.

We've proved that.

If you lie about one thing, what's to say you won't lie about anything else?

I ain't a murderer.

If you allow me to examine him

in my cabin, briefly, Mr. Brownlee,

there may be indications.

Young Joseph Hannah had a slew of sores

and if they are venereal...

as I think they were,

it's likely the perpetrator would have the very same sores.

- Take your clothes off. - I'd much prefer o use my--

No, do it now or else we'll do it for you.

Could you pull back your foreskin, please, Mr. McKendrick?

No visible signs of infection or lesions.

No signs of soreness or abrasion, either.

Perhaps he used a gob of lard to ease his entrance.

Did you check Hannah for signs of lubrication--

Shut up, Cavendish, and let Sumner do his job.

No fresh cuts or scratches on the wrist.

No fresh cuts or scratches as might be caused by a struggle.

You may put your clothes back on.

No, you can get dressed outside.

He's your murderer right there.

Whether his cock is chaffed or not, he's the guilty one.

There's no proof. None at all.

Surely even you, Mr. Cavendish, are aware that you need proof,

before you can condemn a man?

- You should be careful, Mr. Sumner. - And why is that?

I know more about you than you might like to think.

Go on ahead. I have very little to hide.

Look, quiet, both of you!

Sumner's right. We need proof.

What proof do you need?

He's a known sodomite!

Put him irons for now and tell the rest of the crew

that I wish to speak to anyone who saw him talking to Hannah

or paying the boy any kind of attentions.

If he's guilty, there will be a witness.

You can leave now, Mr. Sumner.

Thank you, Captain.

There's things about our surgeon you don't know.

I don't wanna hear about Sumner.

Just find the proof and we can move on.

Once we're through the strait, I'll meet up with Captain Morwood

and we'll head north to Lancaster Sound.

Aye, Captain.

You see him in the dockyard taprooms every night

buying arse and giggling with the other pansies.

That doesn't make him a murderer.

'Course it's him!

Brownlee just needs a little more proof.

What kind of proof?

A witness. Someone who's seen the two of them together.

I seen them together.

When?

I seen them by the deckhouse late one night.

He was mooning over the boy. He was cooing and billing.

He was paddling his neck. He was trying to give him little kisses.

The boy didn't seem to like it too much.

That should do it.

Why didn't you mention this before?

It must have slipped my mind.

My wits aren't quite so strongly trained as yours are, Mr. Sumner,

and... I'm the forgetful type, see.

He had him pushed up against the wall, stroking his hair.

Then I saw him give him a kiss.

That's what I saw, Captain.

Why didn't you bring me this useful information before?

Well, I didn't think of it.

Once I heard his name mentioned as the murderer, then it all came back.

That is a bloody lie. I never once touched that boy.

Well, I saw what I saw. There's no man can tell me I didn't.

And you'll swear to that in a court of law?

On the Holy Bible. Yes, I will.

Right then, I'll enter your account into the ship's log

and you can stamp your mark on it.

Now, is there anything you wish to add, Mr. McKendrick?

There's not a word of truth in it. That's what I say.

He's spewing out lies!

Oh, I have no reason to lie.

Look, if you've an accusation to make, then you should make it now.

I never touched that boy.

Like I said to you before, boys...

in't to my taste.

But whatsoever I did with my fellow men,

I never had any complaint or accusation concerning that,

but this man here, the one who's lying about me,

who seems set to see me hanged by the neck,

he's done far worse.

Much more unnatural crimes than I have done.

What crimes do you speak of?

Ask him.

Ask him what he done in the Marquesas.

What's he talking about?

I have passed some time with the South Sea negroes, that's all.

I have some tattoos they gave me on my back

and a fund of good and profitable stories to show for it.

There's nothing more to tell.

Would you take the word of a damn cannibal

over that of an honest, God-fearing man?

A cannibal?!

Don't pay heed to his bollocks! Jesus!

I've never heard such desperate nonsense!

Take that shameless piece of shite down--

- I ain't no murderer! - For why?

Before I lose my fucking temper!

Please, I'm not a fucking murderer! Please, I'm not--

Right, you'll be expected to testify in court.

I don't like being accused or talked at in that way.

The word of a lone sodomite should carry no great weight.

I can assure you of that.

You must stand your ground, that's all.

I'm an honest man.

I tell only what I saw.

Then you've nothing to fear.

You can go now, Mr. Sumner.

You've caused enough trouble.

Hello?

Come to me now, boy. I won't wait.

No, Drax! No, please! No!

Come on, boys. Faster.

I hear if all goes well, you'll be next.

- Is that right? - Aye.

Baxter told me himself.

He thinks the whaling trade's finished.

He wants to settle up and buy himself a modest manufactory.

I'd say these seas are still crammed full of fishes.

If I was a gambling man,

Baxter's one horse I'd put your money on.

He doesn't fall at many fences, I'd say.

He's a shrewd fucker. I'll give you that.

Are you ready?

When the time comes, I'll be ready.

When is that time?

I'd say there's time enough to kill a few more whales first.

The whales are small change in this game.

And we may not get too many decent chances to sink her nicely.

It's the way it looks that matters or the underwriters will start up their querying

and that's what none of us want.

You least of all.

There's been enough ice this year.

It'll not be hard.

Sooner is better than after.

If we leave it too long, I'll risk getting trapped there myself

and then where would we be?

I'll tell the crew to head north to Lancaster Sound.

Lancaster's good.

No one will follow up there this time of year.

We can search for a good spot to get her well nipped.

Find yourself a snug little lead between some hefty land ice.

Let the winds blow the floes in on you.

Don't you worry about me.

You just be there when we need you.

I'll be there.

Do you have men to help?

Cavendish.

And I'm hoping not to need the help of Henry Drax.

Does he know the plan?

Baxter promised me we can rely on him if we need to.

I have a good mind to leave the carpenter where he is.

Accidents do happen.

And a man like him ain't so likely to be missed.

Have you ever heard of such a thing?

A young girl, I can...

I can halfway understand.

But a cabin boy?

Evil times we live in.

Fucking evil and unnatural.

I say things are about to change.

How do you mean?

Just what I said.

Things are about to change.

Why do you care so much about this cabin boy?

'Cause he was murdered.

Oh, I'd wager that's not it.

I bet you've seen more than share of butchery.

Why does this one bother you so much?

I care because I do not wish

to see an innocent man punished.

Do you think it's fair that one man should suffer for another man's crime?

I'm guessing, then, you think McKendrick's...

not the culprit?

Do you think he killed the boy?

- Isn't for me to say. - Isn't it?

It's no concern of mine.

I'm not sure I agree with that.

I'd say a dead cabin boy is the least of our fucking problems.

The very least... I'd say.

I would like to forget.

I would like to rest, as the others appear to rest,

in the certainty of McKendrick's guilt.

These two bodies should match, Hannah and McKendrick.

They should fit together like twin pieces of a puzzle, but I cannot make them whole.

So I cannot rest.

And I cannot forget.

No, I'm not here to hurt you.

Then what do you want?

How is your health?

Do you require anything from me?

I'm hale, hearty enough considering.

I expect to live until they choose to hang me.

Well, if it goes to trial, you'll stand a better chance of making your case.

Nothing is decided yet.

A man like me finds few friends in an English court of law.

I'm an honest fellow.

But my life won't stand for too much peering into.

You're not the only one who feels that way, I'd say.

We're all sinners, right enough,

but some sins are punished harder than others.

I'm not a murderer. I never was one.

I am many other things

and it's the other things that they would choose to hang me for.

What's the trouble with your hand?

Oh, it's just the thumb.

Got hit by a cock-eyed fellow with a lump hammer,

a year or two, back in Whitby.

Not been able to move it since.

It makes for some difficulties for a man in my trade.

- But I've learnt to make the adjustments. - Show me.

Try to grip my wrist.

- Now, squeeze as hard as you can. - I'm squeezing.

No, squeeze, Mr. McKendrick. Don't hold back.

I'm not holding back. My thumb got crushed by a fucking lump hammer.

And I have many witnesses to that occurrence.

A scrawny fucker, like Hannah, could have been strangled with one hand, I'd say.

- Thumb or no thumb. - No! No.

The twin thumb marks were as clear as day.

I don't remember thumb marks.

I remember bruises, a good many bruises, but there's no way on earth

to tell which particular finger caused which particular mark.

Before the burial I made sketches of his injuries.

You see?

Two large oval bruises.

One above the other.

Well, these pretty little pictures prove bugger all.

McKendrick was seen making advances towards the boy. Fact.

Anything else is just guesswork and fancy.

It is physically impossible for him to have committed this crime.

And you're welcome to make those opinions to a magistrate

as soon as we land in England.

But while we're at sea and I'm captain,

McKendrick stays where he is.

And... and as soon as we arrive back in England,

the real killer will leave the ship and disappear for good.

Am I supposed to arrest the entire crew? Is that what you're saying?

No, I'm saying... that it cannot be smart

to have a killer roaming around the ship,

while we head north into God only knows what.

If it's not McKendrick who killed the boy,

then it's most likely Drax.

He is lying about the carpenter to save himself.

I'd say you've been reading too many penny dreadfuls.

Is there a reason why you won't consider his guilt, Captain?

Let me examine him as I did McKendrick.

If he is guilty, then it's not too late for the signs to still be apparent.

You're a dogged little fucker.

You can have your examination.

Down with the trousers, as well, please.

- Thank you. - At your please, Mr. Sumner.

Pull back your foreskin, please, Mr. Drax.

It's you that wants the thing pulled back.

Oh, you have the crabs.

Aye, I usually do.

It's not a hanging offense, is it?

No signs of infection.

No signs of soreness or abrasion, either.

Show me your hands, please.

This has healed nicely, I see.

Well, it was just a scratch.

And you have full use of all your digits, I suppose?

- All of my what? - Fingers and thumbs.

I do, indeed.

Roll up your sleeves.

Do you doubt me, Mr. Sumner?

Huh?

Do you doubt me when I tell you

what I saw by the deckhouse?

Mr. McKendrick denies it. You know he does.

McKendrick is a sodomite.

What is the word of a sodomite worth in a court of law?

Not much I'd say.

If you believe a word of that cunt, McKendrick,

then you must fancy I'm a liar.

I don't know what you are.

I'm an honorable man. That's what I am.

I do my duty.

I have no cause to feel any shame because of it.

What do you intend by that?

We're all honorable men here.

Or at least honorable enough for the requirements of our calling.

I think the ship's surgeon gets my drift.

Him and me are old pals, see.

I helped him to his cabin after the night in Lerwick.

You likely won't remember 'cause you was fast asleep.

But me and Cavendish, we had a good look before we left.

Just to make sure all your necessaries were safe.

Nothing disturbed or out of place.

Do you doubt my knowledge

or competency as a surgeon, Mr. Drax?

I have served an apprenticeship.

I have my certificates from the Queen's College of Birmingham.

Well, you have your little scrap of paper and I have mine.

Which one of those scraps of paper weighs the most in an English court of law?

I never did learn my letters, so I'm not the one to say,

but a good lawyer would likely have an opinion.

It's not a matter of opinion or reputation.

Who I am or who I have been isn't the question here.

What evidence do you hold against me?

'Cause if you have none...

it's you against me I'd say.

My solemn word! Sworn on the Bible against you!

- Solemn? - Solemn word!

Solemn? You're lying.

What evidence do you hold against me?

- You're lying-- - What evidence, Mr. Sumner?

Is the ship's surgeon a little hard of hearing, Captain?

I keep asking him the same question and he don't seem to notice.

What evidence do you hold against, Drax?

I have none.

Let's put an end to this fucking nonsense.

Drax, get your close back on.

What's that mark on your arm?

It's nothing. Just a scratch with a harpoon is all.

- Looks worse than a scratch to me. - Let me see.

It's nothing.

That's your good right arm. I can tell it's swollen from here.

If you can't hurl a harpoon or pull an oar, then you're of no earthly use to me.

Show the surgeon now.

For fuck sake. Here. Take a look.

This needs to be lanced and properly drained.

Why didn't you see me about this?

Don't give me any trouble. It is only a nick.

Come to my cabin. We'll treat you properly there.

There's definitely something lodged inside.

It might be a splinter of wood or... or a piece of bone.

You said that you did this with a harpoon?

Aye. I did.

What the fuck's that?

- A tooth. - That thing ain't mine.

- It's in your arm. - It ain't mine I tell you.

A cabin boy's tooth is evidence.

It's all the evidence we need to see you hang.

You won't see me hang. I'll fuck you both in hell before that happens.

- Take up this vile piece of scum, Captain. - Cavendish!

Captain!

You fucking...

Jones!

Jones!

Give the stick to Sumner.

I could blow your head off or shoot you in the bollocks and let you bleed out.

You decide.

Lads, get the irons.

Heave there!

Will he live?

From my experience, once the skull has been breached...

the situation is hopeless.

He looks terrified.

Oh, he will have lost his bearings.

Scrambled.

And generally it's better to die than to go on inhabiting the world like this.

I am taking command as is the law.

You may ask how such a fiend came to move amongst us.

I've got no good answers for that.

I've known some deviant and malignant fuckers in my time,

but none, I confess, is a patch on Henry Drax.

As it is, he's caged below

and will not see the daylight until we land back in Hull.

Now, I know there's been some talk of the ship being cursed,

but I assure you it is not.

It's just unfortunate, that's all,

and we will continue as planned and head further into the Sound.

What?

No man has ever caught a whale this far north before. Not at this time of year.

All you need to do is read the records if he doesn't believe me.

If your opinions came in gold with the Queen's head stamped upon 'em.

I might pay 'em a little mind.

But since they don't, you won't be too offended if I take no notice of you.

There is too much ice at this time of year

and if you take into the Sound, you're putting us all at grave risk.

Aye.

A man don't profit unless he takes a little risk from time to time.

You should show more boldness, Mr. Jones.

How can you expect to have your own command, if you act so damn feebly?

It's just foolishness, not boldness.

Think of the Abram, the Gordon, the Mary Frances.

All beset in the ice and never heard of again.

Why Brownlee took us this far north I can't say,

but I know if he were here now, even he would not consider taking us in.

What Brownlee would or wouldn't do

is moot I'd say,

seeing as he can't speak or even raise his hand to wipe his arse!

And since I'm in command now,

not you or Otto and certainly not our surgeon,

I guess what I say goes!

As if this voyage wasn't marked with enough calamity.

- What did you say? - I said you were a fucking imbecile!

Settle now. Settle now.

Nearer my God to Thee

Nearer to Thee

Even though it be a cross

That raiseth me

Still all my song shall be

Nearer my God to Thee

Nearer my God to Thee

Nearer to Thee

Though like a wanderer

Daylight is gone

Darkness is over me

My rest a stone

Yet in my dreams are Thee

Nearer my God to Thee

Nearer my God to Thee

Nearer to Thee

A finger of rum for each man.

And then we press north.

I've seen it in my dreams.

We all die.

But you, you survive.

The rest of us,

we drown, starve, perish from the cold.

Dreams are just a way to clear the mind.

A form of purging.

They're nothing more than a mental shite pile.

There is no truth in them.

No fucking prophecy, either.

And when the rest of us are dead...

you'll be swallowed whole.

- By a bear. - So I don't survive?

- You do. - Until I'm eaten by a bear?

That is what I saw.

Do not confuse your dreams for our destiny.

We are not alone out there. The Hastings is close.

We are safe.

Why not put your energies into dreaming about that outcome?

But Henry Drax is still alive and breathing.

He's down in the old, chained to the mainmast, bound hand and foot.

He cannot escape.

Now, let us not speak

or worry about Henry Drax anymore.

Oh, we'd be all right

If the wind was in our sails

Oh, we'd be all right

If the wind was in our sails

Oh, we'd be all right

If the wind was in our sails

And we'll all hang on behind

And we'll roll your chariot along

We'll roll your chariot along

We'll roll your chariot along

And we'll all hang on behind

And we'll roll your chariot along

We'll roll your chariot along