Original subtitles

- Is that Britannia? - Aye, aye.

You're a surprising bastard. I'll give you that, Henry Drax.

Do you remember the time we talked about?

The time we both thought might never happen?

I remember it well enough.

Then I suspect you can more or less guess what I'm about to tell you.

That time hant come. It can't have. Not out here.

It has, Michael.

Bollocks to that.

When the old Esquimaux leaves he's gonna take me with him.

It's all been agreed between us. I need a file to get these chains off.

That and a...

You know, as we said, a quick glance the other way.

You'd rather live as a yak?

Well, I'll winter over with them, if they let me.

- Come spring I'll look out for a ship. - Bound for where?

Doesn't matter. New Bedford. Sebastopol.

You won't see sign of me again.

I'll swear to that at least.

We're all of us trapped here now.

Why should I help you alone to escape?

You're only keeping me alive and breathing, so they can hang me later on.

Now, where's the sense, the reason of that?

Let me take my chances with the yaks.

The savage bastards may stick a lance in me.

If they do, there's no man here who will mourn my passing much.

I'm a whaleman, not a jailer. That's true enough.

Aye. You think on it.

It's one less mouth to feed.

When you go back to England, there will be no blame attached.

You and Baxter can go about your business without no trouble from me.

You can even keep my share!

For giving me a helping hand.

You're an evil...

filthy... conniving bastard, Henry.

I expect you always were one.

Maybe.

But if I am what you call me...

why would you want such a fiend living so close amongst you

when you have the God-given chance to cut him free?

You can't use it inside the tent.

Well, the seal meat don't agree with me none.

- I'll be in and out all night shitting. - I've been thinking.

- Oh, aye? - What if I come along with you?

It's safer here.

We can't winter through alive. It ain't possible.

One or two might die, but I say you won't be one of them.

I'd sooner take my chances with the yaks. Like you are.

it's not the agreement I made.

It's me alone.

I'll make my own agreement.

Separate, like. Why not?

You'll do best to stay.

Nay, I'll be coming with. And that there's file is my ticket out.

You always were a bold and blusterous fucker, Michael Cavendish.

You'd thought to get one over on me, but you won't do it.

I ain't staying here to die with these others.

I've got bigger plans.

Aye.

Get ready, but wait for my whistle.

Don't come till you hear it.

I hant whistled you yet.

I ain't waiting for no whistle.

The case is altered.

- Altered? - Yes.

How so?

I have to show you something.

Show we what?

Take a look inside.

- What am I meant to be looking at? - Hurry, Michael.

You'll like it.

This weren't my idea, Michael.

This one was yours alone.

He must have helped Drax cut through his chains.

He deserves this, then, the stupid fuck.

What do we do now?

What do we eat once the seal meat has gone?

We get hungry.

Unless we fancy cooking the grand Mr. Cavendish here

in a tasty stew.

Why would Drax kill those Esquimaux?

They must have had something he wanted.

What shall we do with this prick now?

Bury him, of course.

Dear Lord.

Help us understand Your purpose and Your mercy.

Fuck him.

Preserve us the grave sin of despair.

Let us not give in to evil.

Give us faith in the workings of Your providence.

Help us remember that Your love

created this world.

And Your love sustains it still at every moment.

And let's remember that we are part of Your greater mystery.

That You are never absent.

And even if we fail to see you Your presence

or mistake it for some other lesser thing...

you are still right here with us.

Thank you, Lord. Amen.

We've had the Devil himself living here amongst us.

I see his footprints out there in the snow.

The cloven hoof, the mark of Satan.

I seen it clear as day.

I've seen it, too.

Like the tracks of a pig or a goat--

There are no such tracks.

No marks at all.

The only Devil here is the one inside ourselves.

Drax is Satan taken on a fleshly form.

He int human like me and you!

He's not the Devil!

He's a tormented spirit, yes, but he's not the Devil.

I've seen him in my dreams.

Spoke to him many times.

There's three dead men outside

I'd weigh against your fucking dreams.

Whatever he may be...

he's gone now.

Aye. And where's he gone?

And who says he won't come back?

We could find the yaks' camp.

They can take us down to the Yankee whaling station on Blacklead Island.

- We'll be safe there. - We don't know where the yak camp is.

I've had my fill of taking other men's advertisements.

We've followed orders since we left Hull

and it's that that's brought us to this sorry fucking pass.

There are no tracks.

There are no landmarks that any of us can recognize.

Those who wanna stay in this accursed place can stay,

but I am not staying an hour longer.

Have dinner tonight at the least.

You're a decent man, Otto,

but I will knock you down, if you stand in my fucking way.

There int too many men who'd stick up for a fellow like me.

So thank you.

Good luck.

You, too.

If Henry Drax is not the Devil...

then I cannot claim to know what he is.

If there is an English word coined for a man like him...

I do not believe I have learned it.

Nor will you learn it.

Not by any human book at least.

Well, you dream that we'd all die and it's coming true.

We have very little food.

The sea is completely iced over

and we are gradually freezing day by day

with no hope... of help...

or rescue.

Miracles do occur.

If great evil exists

why not great good the same?

Signs and fucking wonders.

Signs and fucking wonders!

Is that the very best you can offer me?

I'm not offering you anything.

Not anymore.

If we're going to live, we have to hunt.

What?

We need to hunt.

Yeah, I know.

As soon as the weather passes.

What about a bear?

Can you eat a bear?

Yeah. You can.

Happy?

Patrick.

There's no signs.

I'm freezing.

Let's switch.

Homo homini lupus.

Christ!

Come out.

Come out.

Come out.

Come out.

Come out!

Come out!

Come out and face me!

Face me!

Come out!

Come out!

Come out.

You lay there and rest...

whoever you are.

Thank you, Anna.

Will you eat something now?

Here.

Let me help you.

I could feed you better, if you open your mouth a little.

Now, chew.

Surely you've not forgotten how to chew?

You'll not get the goodness out of it, if you don't chew it right.

Good, good.

We'll try you with a mug of tea later.

See how you are with that.

The men who found you consider you an angakkuq.

They believe that bears have great powers

and that certain chosen men partake in them.

Men who have the bear as the genius...

have super-human strength.

They are closer to the darkness, to the primitive.

This makes for a better hunter.

Or so they believe.

I have seen the angakkugs in action.

And I can tell ya...

that they're not but conjurers...

and charlatans.

They dress up in their gruesome masks

and other audacious gewgaws

and make a great song and dance about it in the igloo.

But there's nothing to it. It's nasty, heathenish stuff.

The crudest kind of superstition.

But they know no better.

How could they?

Never seen a Bible before I got here.

Never heard the gospel preached in earnest.

Here.

It's slow and painful work.

I've been alone here since last spring.

It took me months to win their trust.

First with gifts. Knives and so forth.

And then acts of kindness.

Giving help when needed.

Extra clothing. Medicine.

They're a kindly people.

But they're... very childlike.

Almost incapable of abstract thought or any other higher forms of motion.

The men hunt, the women suckle children

and that forms the limits of their interests and knowledge.

They have a kind of metaphysics, it's true,

but it's a crude and self-serving one

and, as far as I can tell, most of them don't believe it themselves.

My task...

is to help them grow up, you might say.

To develop their souls.

Make them self-aware.

That's why I'm writing my translation of the Bible here.

Because if I can get it right,

if I could choose the correct words in their own language...

then they will begin to understand.

But they are God's creatures, after all, just as much as you or I.

Yes?

Medicines?

Medicines, medicines? Of course!

Of course, of course.

I don't have much, but...

I've used the salts a great deal--

Do you... do you... do you have laudanum?

Laudanum?

No, we have... none left.

I used to have a bottle, but it's been used already.

I see you speak plain English, after all.

Because I was beginning to fear you might be a Serb or a Pollack

or some other Godforsaken denomination.

Where are you from?

It doesn't matter.

Found in a body of a dead bear.

As if swallowed whole.

Some...

might call that a miracle.

I wouldn't.

What would you call it, then?

Perhaps you should ask the bear.

Ah, you are a clever fellow!

I must say.

You'd lie there for days,

quiet as a grave, not a word from your lips,

and here you are...

up and making merry with me.

You were sent here for a reason.

Why does there always have to be a reason?

Because there always is a reason.

I just don't know what the reason is yet.

But the Lord...

The Lord will have one.

I want no part of that... rigmarole.

Do you know whose this is?

Yes.

Whose is it?

He was from the ship.

Otto.

He's one of our harpooners.

They just found his body.

And two dead Esquimaux.

Tell the hunters we know nothing.

Who murdered them?

A man named Henry Drax.

Why?

Perhaps he wanted their clothes.

Furs.

But why kill them?

He must have travelled north.

The northern tribes of Baffin Land are a law unto themselves.

He may be dead, but...

Likely he traded the furs for shelter

and is waiting for the spring.

And what is your name?

I'm not Henry Drax.

I am very pleased to hear that.

So what is your name?

Patrick Sumner.

And your history?

I have none to speak of.

Every man has history.

Not me.

Not now.

Do you believe you were reborn from the belly of a bear?

If I've been reborn...

it does not mean I wish to learn anything anew.

I see nothing worth learning.

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