All language subtitles for Flying Clipper (1962)

(MUSIC)

(SINGING)

In the cold North Sea, the sun burns
too far away for a Scandinavian heart

yearning for warmer climes.

But a mackerel sky means good weather ahead
and a voyage under sail,

into the blue seas of the Mediterranean.

To twenty young sailor's cadets,
who have worked all year

and want a seamen's holiday.

They wait on board the Viking a training
ship of the Swedish merchant marine

that has been home to them
and a hard taskmaster.

Twenty teenagers, Norse, Swedes, Danes
and Germans, they have a dream in common.

On graduation day, they were chosen
for operation "big in"

to sail the three-masted schooner
they haven't yet seen,

from Goteborger harbor into
the Mediterranean.

Ahoi, the Flying Clipper is here.

- Ahoi. -Ahoi. -Ahoi. -Ahoi.

Yes, that's the ship, the Flying Clipper.

American design, English build
and bound with a golden horn.

She is under way at last,
the captain calls all hands.

The boys jump toward with a will.

Captain Skoglund wants to leave
the harbor under full sail.

These young men are kings of the sea,

Vikings, and they're proud
of that fact today.

Hey, the shot pull off first.

Now get ready.

Oh hey, oh hey, oh hey, oh hey
oh hey, oh hey, oh hey...

Out we are bound every pose echoes
the spirit of a thousand shanties

sailors have sung
at the start of a voyage.

(SHANTY SINGING)

The way and the Vick of the great
adventures who explored these seas

before them, the famed ones Magellan and
Columbus and the unnamed ones

like newt and trigg.

Off their watch at four bells,
ten o'clock to land lovers

and below for a well-earned cup of java
flavored with salt air.

The ship is run with a firm hand.
Its four hours on watch and four hours off

and have some shuteye while you can.

Captain Skoglund is descended from a line
of men who have always followed the sea,

as will his children.

He reads his way across the seas
by latitudes and longitudes

and the stars in the sky.

The Captain charts a course
that will take them down the Skagerrak

through the North Sea into
the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay

around Cape Finisterre heading south
for Nazaré on the course to Portugal

where he will take on fresh water.

A favoring wind fills the fourteen thousand
square feet of canvas above deck

of the Flying Clipper.

At Nazaré the crew expects to find
the familiar Portuguese fisherman.

But Nazaré has a surprise for them.

The menfolk wear brightly colored plaid
shirts like the skirts of their women.

The black shawled women wear
gold crescent moon earrings.

Nazaré, where the fisherman's wife's
hold a heavy net in.

Where fishermen rest a living from the sea
with bare hands

and the courage of necessity.

In Nazaré the people are always
on the beach and everyone

in the family lends a hand and bright
eyes watch for sardine shoals.

Eyes as bright as the yearly painted boats
with their high curved Venetian bows.

Yes, the people of Nazaré are
the early Venetians;

they labor endlessly to live
from the harvest of the sea.

But they enjoy the challenge
for they are the descendants

of the greatest seafaring people
of the ancient world.

The friend of the fisherman watches
over the harbor of Lisbon.

He watches over the Fernando de Gloria.

The eighteen-century men of war lay
unwanted many years in the harbor.

But now she is an orphanage for the sons
of sailors, and fisherman's lost at sea.

They learn of their forbearers, Vasco
de Gamma who discovered the sea route

to east India and Magellan, the first man
to sail around the world.

So, they welcome the sons of Eric the Red
as fellow sailors

and pipe them aboard with a ram tam tam.

The Tejo River flows into the sea
of Lisbon this is the gateway

to the Portuguese Riviera.

The Greeks discovered it,
the Romans discovered it

and now we have discovered it.

Some come in search of sun, some
in search of the sparkling Portuguese wine

and one in search of the Flying Clipper.

The Flying Clipper
rounds the heel of Italy.

The Mediterranean is a jewel of many facets
and the Captain wants the boys

to see it in its best light.

In the gulf of Kotor, the craig Yugoslavian
ship Jadran is in her home waters.

Marco Polo came from a nearby island,
he led ten ships here,

I guess the Genoese fleet.

He was beaten, taken prisoner
enduring captivity.

The day he was freed he began
his travels into china

and brought back home his
famous gift, a barrel of gunpowder.

The Yugoslavs always welcome
a friendly traveler,

in the words of a poet philosopher
Petar Petrovi¢-Njegos:

"He is my brother of whatever
creed he may be.”

Yugoslavia has two alphabets, three
religions, four languages, five nations,

six republics and a partisan
in every crosstree.

Yugoslavia has two voices,
one is of the sea,

one is of the mountains,
each a mighty voice.

For the Kotor motor scooter girls
it's a field day

they have a putnik each as
a traveler is called hereabouts.

And the putniks are happy to have
something to hang on to,

up to the winding hairpin roads
to Mount Lovcen.

When the road is washed away,
nobody minds, it always is in Yugoslavia.

These are the mountains of the Guslari,
the wandering minstrels who sang of

blood and courage, of the hunters and
woodsmen who came from the forest

of Eastern Europe and called these
cypress woods Dombrava.

They sang of the enemies
they have fought and of the trees.

Any place in Yugoslavia, to cut down
a tree is to take a man's live.

For the tree is the partisans' friend.

The Hairpin bends of Mount Lovcen
are easier to negotiate

than the feelings in a sailor's heart.

Sailors the world over remember
and say of the Yugoslav girls:

"My true love she was beautiful,
my true love she was gay,

so I"m taking a trip on a clipper ship,
ten thousand miles away.”

So the boys embark with a new word
meaning both hello and goodbye.

Zdravo!

And Zdravo Dubrovnik.

Ragusa of old, whos white gold and rosset
tiles, renaissance and Romanesque

architecture, peasants, partisans and poets
have made it to Slav Athens.

Yugoslavs enjoy being fast on their feet
and the fastest footwork

is in their national dance the Kolo.

In the spring courting dance a married
shy bachelor gets a little heady

when his sweetheart entices him
into saying, yes, yes, yes.

His fastest footwork is yet to come.

Hundred one three five.

Captain, a call for you.

The teenage odyssey of the Flying Clipper
has excited the curiosity

of the picture magazines of Europe.

This is Hanns Hubmann,
can I speak to your Captain please. Over.

Hello, hello Mr. Hubmann, go ahead.

Hello Captain, hello Captain, can you
give me a chance to get me on board

to take a few pictures? Over.

1 think so, yes. We are supposed to arrive
in Korfu in about four hours.

Can you make it?
Korfu in about four hours?

Oh yes, thanks Captain.
I meet you in Korfu, so long.

Hello Captain.

The Captain welcomes
the journalist on board

and Mr. Hubmann's presence arouses
a pretty good folklore of rumor.

This is Mr. Hubmann from the German press.

A reconnaissance party is elected
to straighten out the hearsay.

What's going on?

Yes I think so, we can.

We go directly to Port Said and
if we make plans, we can meet there.

You know the stories about school ships.
They are great.

People are very interested to see those
things, so I thought we do this story.

Oh very fine, I am glad I can help you.

Hubmann plans to write the story of three
young sailors at liberty in timeless Egypt.

A friendly rough and tumble
will decide which three.

Ok, step out boys and take a chance.

The pillow fight on a greased pole
is an old Scandinavian custom

like walking the plank or spitting
on a dried chip and tossing it

heads or tails, wet or dry.

In this case, its dry
you win a cruise up to river Nile,

wet you win a swim in the Adriatic.

The Windjammer kids come from good homes.

If their parents could see them now.

Yugoslavia falls behind in the wake
of the Flying Clipper.

Once you passed Crete,
it is six sailing days to Port Said.

In Port Said, the most popular ship jumping
port in the eastern Mediterranean,

the three winners go a shore to start
their adventure up the river Nile.

And the skipper gives everyone else surely.

(SHANTY SINGING)

The Flying Clipper is the guest of the
Egyptian government in the Suez Canal

the hundred miles of waterway connecting
the Mediterranean to the red sea.

Look, my friend, what do you say to that?

Well, I have seen them before.

The Egyptian answer to the Texas rangers.

The Flying Clipper in a sea of sand.

Sailing on a ribbon of water
thirty-five feet deep.

The river Nile, a brown and green snake,
where fellas are called fellahin.

The Nile brings out a poet smile,
because it rhymes with crocodile.

But me, well I've seen too much mileage
to make a limerick in Nileage.

Look.

I know, that has got to be older
than two thousand years.

Cleopatra lays along these banks
on a golden barge with Marc Antony.

And her beauty was such,
that he gave her a little real estate.

Jericho, Greece, Cyprus, Venetia
and parts of Sicily and Crete.

The only water in rainless Egypt,
the Nile, is sacred to farmers,

because it overflows into their fields,
filling them with rich fertile silt.

Who tied you to the wheel brother ox?

Who put the oak on your neck?

I'll find out in time,
the ox replies plodding on.

Where stood ancient Thebes now stand
the ruined temple of Luxor and Karnak.

Where kings vainly sought immortality
by carving their exploits in stone.

They might as well have carved
their initials into a tree.

For here are their prayers written in a
language only a few can understand,

although it was meant for the many.

Yet when we walk the avenue
of the sphinxes,

we can understand something
of the great civilizations,

which flourished here and disappeared
on the grinding wheel of time.

The priest of the temples once held the
Egyptians in bondage to the Nile, telling

them that the guards gave to them the
sharmans the times of the rivers floods,

of new moons and full moons,
of times to plant seed.

Out of the sham rituals and the people
simplicity came the first calendar.

Only sunset at each day would release
river folk from the tyranny of the day

and the river birds to hunt without
fear of the brown hawk.

The Nile bird walks in leaps and bounds
because it lives on coffee grounds,

which is as cruel of you and me
as of the Nile bird you'll agree.

The coffee makes Egyptian smile
it's twice as muddy as the Nile.

Sure, however, as long as its coffee.

Thanks.

Thank you.

Thanks.

Not bad.

The Villa of the Begum Aga Khan
is on the riverbank.

The Aga Khan, leader of the Muslims
of India is buried on the hill,

overlooking the Nile.

It is here, that many generations ago
his ancestors began

that branch of the Islamic faith,
of which he became the spiritual head.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

- Where do you come from?
- We are coming from the Flying Clipper.

- Oh, that's a very fine boat.
- You know it?

Yes, it is very fine indeed.

The boys were greeted by the Begum and
found her to be a gracious French lady,

who's way of life had taken her
as far away from the green trees of Paris,

as their travels had taken them
from their homeland.

- And I wish you a very good trip.
- Thank you ma'am, good-bye.

- Good-bye.
- Good-bye.

This man and his children
will inherit a new Egypt.

He is awakened every day to live
in the giant shadows of the god kings.

He will awaken tomorrow to a
shimmering lake, the high Aswan dam,

who's waters will free Egyptians of the
past, the best and the worst of it.

And of the all and majesty of the three
thousand year old temples of Abu Simbel.

Vile infidel no,
you have trod on the toe.

Of Ramses the second.

The archeologists of the new Egypt will
have to be skim divers to see these Kings

and their thrones, but if a catkin look
at a King my friends, so can a catfish.

How much for it?

At sea, sailors amuse themselves,
a shore they amuse everyone else.

Let's go. Let's go. Come on.

Walk on. Jalavina. Jalavina. Jalavina.

(LAUGHTER)

Come on. Come on old boy.

They say a sailor never walks if he
can ride, but this Sailor will have to.

His donkey engine just
won't get up any steam.

In the Valley of the Kings, the treasures
of Tut-Ankh-Amun lay undiscovered

until the twentieth century.

Tut-Ankh-Amun became King at the age
of nine and reigned on the throne of Egypt

until he was sixteen years old.

They say you can't take it with you,
but King Tut proved you can stay with it.

Young King Tut stays now
in the museum of antiquities in Cairo.

And Tut-Ankh-Amun's golden Chair mutely
asks, what happened to my beautiful owner.

The newcomers is only on top of
things in Cairo, so long as he is airborne.

For the instant, he sets foot
in the marketplace

he is one of three and a half million
people, all gifted hagglers except him.

Sailor, when a souvenir merchant
smiles at your offer and says:

"Buk rafil mish mish” he means
when the apple blossoms bloom,

and there are no apple blossoms in Cairo.

Over the glamour and rush of
Muslim Cairo, the cry of the muezzin falls

like the drawn out notes of a horn
from the minarets

calling the faithful to their prayer mats
to turn their heads toward Makkah,

the birthplace of Mohammed.

(MUEZZIN SINGING)

The pyramids of Giza; ask a question;
give no answer;

stand on the earth; point at the heavens;
perhaps that is the answer.

Ask Giza's leading lady.

The main attraction of the desert is
being upstaged by a little belly dancer.

Poor Sphynx, the only woman
who can never say what she thinks.

Straw-hatted ladies on camels
make up for her stony silence.

Fair game for the barbs of Oscar Wilde.

Woman tourists are sphynxes
without secrets.

King Cheops enslaved thousands of his
fellahin's ancestors to build his pyramid,

the biggest tombstone of them all.

Now fellahin makes a good living
from the pyramid,

betting tourists he can climb
to the top in five minutes.

Kings may come and Kings may go,
but fellahin go on forever.

For the new members of the pyramidmenship
club, here is an ode that may sit well,

King Chops' monumental ego
gives all but a sailor vertigo, or he got

his balance up on the top gallants,
as men do, who down to the sea go.

It's farewell to the land of
sun gods and pharaohs,

when the Flying Clipper starts toward the
more familiar lands of the New Testament.

1 need to take over.

- Yes. Course five-three.
- Ok.

Row new Course, five-one.

Now, tell me exactly, how high are
the Lebanon Mountains? Nielson.

Ehm ...

Solberg!

Ten thousand five hundred feet
or a little more maybe.

No.

A map is a magic carpet to the seafaring
teenager that takes him to places

that are only names to him.

He charts his way of north-northeast
to the Mediterranean waters of Beirut,

the capital of Lebanon.

In Beirut, he will find the jungle
of nightclubs and the gossip

of Lebanese coffee houses,
wealthy villas, mud huts,

Muslims and Christian's, whose names
ring up the past of Babylon,

of Damascus, of Syria and Nazareth.

He will find the few hundred trees
remaining of the giant seaters of Lebanon,

which Hiram of Tyre gave to Solomon

that he might fashion of them
the temple of Jerusalem.

And of which Zachariah
speaks a true prophecy.

Hallo, fair tree, for the seater is fallen,
because the mighty are spoiled.

In the land of an eye for an eye Hiram
of Tyre didn't plant a tree for a tree.

And King Solomon had seven hundred
wife's, so he just didn't have the time.

The pageant splendor of Baalbek is in
the massive Egyptian granite blocks,

which took three years to carry
here from the Nile.

These magnificent columns could tell
of the unspeakable blood rituals

to the Baal of Syria, of the
Helios of Greece and of the Heliopolis,

of the temples of Jupiter and of Bacchus.

They could tell of the biggest temple
town of the world and of the Christians

who made it right with heaven, and of the
mohabitants who made it right with Allah,

and of time who made it right
with the stones themselves.

They having weathered the many
ages of men could now speak freely

of his wisdom and his folly
to a passing sailor.

The Damascus road climbs up out
of the blazing heat of Baalbek.

Six thousand feet into the mountain snow.

Men cool their wine in the snow,
little boys cool lemonade,

and sailors cool their landing gear.

One day this lad may leave his
handprint in the wet cement

at Grauman's Chinese theater in Hollywood.

Meantime he is about to make a Sitzmark,
which is accomplished by throwing

both skies up in the air and landing flat
on your Sitz in the snow.

You get the greatest view from these
mountains on the Damascus Bus.

The weather report from Rhodes radio Sir.

It is not so good. I'm afraid
we are heading for a storm.

Well, let me see.

The Mediterranean southwest
of Turkey is a fascinating place.

One day it's as calm and sunny as
a Turk dreaming into his bubble pipe,

another day it rages like
a whirling dervish.

In these waters, Aeolus gave
the great Odysseus a fair wind

and he gave him all the foul winds
tied up in a bag.

Odysseus however had a land lover
on board and naturally, he wanted to see

what was in the bag and he untied
the strings, and he loosed the four winds.

The Flying Clipper rode out the storm
of the coast of Turkey

in the port from which the apostles
Paul and Barnabas sailed for Antioch.

At nearby Side a great Turkish actor
read the Greek tragedies of Aeschylus,

who knew as accurately
as if he were here with us

that this roman theater would be
empty one day.

Alas for mortals, their power and pride.

A little shadow sweeps it
from the earth and if they suffer

while the fatal hour comes o'er the record
like a moistened sponge and blots it out.

Well it is pitiful.

On the beach of Alanya, menfolk gather
for the favorite pass time of Turkey.

The Flying Clipper swings peacefully
at anchor,

ashore the women sit in the shade eating
cold chops and French ices.

And the boys head for the fight arena
on the beach.

Would you like to see a little Turkish
delight? A genuine camel fight?

A doney broke, a shoot for the cook,
a regular free for all and all for free?

This way ladies and gentleman
to the main event.

The rules are break clean in the clinches,
less they break their valuable legs,

and yours too ladies and gentleman.

Oh, little darling, come on.

Hey, what about you little fella.

A highchair for the little people.
Thank Sinbad.

Brother and sister, regular fight fans.

On my left Abdul of Alanya.

Keep well back please; the fighting
camel is a highly pugnacious animal.

If you think all camels are a filter tip
ladies and gentleman,

come and see the camel fight.

Catch them if you can.

Yesterdays champ and still champ,
gentleman Jim of Alanya.

The Goéreme is the most
inhospitable land in Turkey,

a lunar landscape in the Anatolian
tablelands,

which stretches eastwards
a thousand miles into Mount Ararat.

This wasteland of volcanic cones,
barren of wildlife,

barren of vegetation became the refuge
of the persecuted Christians,

when to be a Christian was
an act of courage and faith.

Each step into the Goreme is
a tale of believes that moved man

to live in a stony wilderness, where even
a goat cannot find a blade of grass.

To holla out cave homes and chapels
until one by one,

the unreal spires of the stony valley
became the steeples of a city.

It is the tale of a way of life
that could inspire men to set their hands

to record for their children.

The tale of a man, who before them
had gone into the wilderness.

The beautiful Byzantine mosaics
tell of the carpenter of Nazareth,

of the family of Joseph and Mary,

of the flight into Egypt and of he,

who came barefooted, yet his way
was strewn with palms.

The marriage feast of Canan,
where Jesus turned water into wine

and the miracle of the loaves and fishes.

Nice Guys.

Its right through to Russia.

The Flying Clipper entered
the Dardanelles, ahead the Bosporus

and the Golden Horn of Istanbul.

Under the friendly eye of the Turkish navy,

she sailed the seas and narrows
where the Trojan war was fought.

The Bosporus leading to Istanbul
is alive with the spirits of the men,

who came to make it theirs.

Of Richard the Lionhearted,
who met the ghost of Saint George,

the one who slew the dragon.

And he made the rallying cry
of the crusade, Saint George.

Ever since the waters, which divide Asia
from Europe, have been known as

the arm of Saint George.

Istanbul stands astride the Bosporus,
the Sea of Marmara and the Golden Horn.

One foot in Europe the other in Asia.

The tremendous drama of this once
most important city in the world,

speaks through the domes
of the Sancta Sophia

and its six-minaret rival the Blue Mosque.

Said the Emperor Justinian:

"I created the masterpiece of
byzantine architecture, Sancta Sophia,

to be the greatest house of God
made by the hand of man.

I have surpassed thee, o Solomon.”

Said the Sultan Ahmed:

"Until I build the Blue Mosque, we had
made a mosque the Hagia Sophia.”

The men who captured Constantinople
were soldiers.

Take Mohammed the Conqueror,
he build forts like Rumelihisar.

The Galata Bridge spans the Golden Horn,
connecting mercantile Istanbul

with the old city of the Sultans
and the Dolmabahg¢e Palace,

where the Janissaries Band plays.

The sixteenth century Janissaries were
the allied fighters of the Ottoman Empire,

who carried the flag of the prophet
right up to the gates of Vienna.

A traveling Jazzman,
called Mississippi Sam,

once played a horn with
the Janissaries Band.

One day he played "All the Girls go crazy
about the way I walk" after which,

the band made other arrangements for him.

The Janissaries are great knife throwers
and great mustache growers.

Why didn't you bring your camera along?

1 told you before, now it's too late.

What interests the teenage crew
of the Flying Clipper more

than the romance of the past of Istanbul,
is the romance of the present.

And the Janissaries are as used to playing
with the sailor audience as without one.

Hey Boys stop it, come here.
In here I say, let's go.

Let's go school, we have better to do.
Come in. Let's go.

In the beautiful grounds of Sancta Sophia,
once a church, then a mosque,

now a museum, one can feel the old way
of the sultans.

The fairs, the veil, the caliphate, the
harem, the cult of the whirling dervish.

In every street in Istanbul,
one can feel the old way of life,

standing next to the westernized Turkey
of Kemal Ataturk.

It's a tug of war between east and west
in this land, which stands with

its back to Mount Ararat, its shoulders
to the black sea, and its face to Europe.

The boys say good-bye to the hills
of the golden horn.

In the sunset, the minarets of Istanbul
are as brilliantly sculptured

as the carving crescent moon
on the flag of Turkey.

First day out of Istanbul, the captain
makes an entry in his log: "All is well.”

Two days out of Istanbul,
one of the boys has an appendix attack.

He doesn't have to face the first mates
penknife

as in the old sailing days before
the miracle of wireless.

But the real miracle today is that Captain
Skoglunds emergency signal can find a ship

that can help him immediately, in a million
square miles of the world's largest sea.

Hello, all ships in all stations.
Hello, all ships in all stations.

Flying Clipper. Flying Clipper.

Flying Clipper calling all ships
and all stations.

The Swedish sailing vessel
Flying Clipper calling. Over.

Flying Clipper. Flying Clipper
USS Shangri-La answering.

What is your emergency? Over.

O hello, hello Shangri-La.

1 have a sick boy on board give me
medical advice, please.

Let me speak to a doctor. Over.

Dr. Brown please.

This is Dr. Brown on the Shangri-La.

This is Flying Clipper. can you help me?

1 have a sick boy on board who needs
some help. It might be the appendix.

Yes, well, where does it hurt?

All over the belly.

On the right site, mainly?

Yes, Sir that's right.

How long has he been sick?

For about one and a half days.

I see. And does he have a fever?

Yes, today it was 143.

Aye, How high?

143.

Oh, I see, that sound fairly serious.

I think we better arrange to bring him
over here.

I'll have the helicopter go over
and pick him up as quickly as possible.

Ok? Yes?

My position is 3345.
East 28/16. Over.

Right. Here, take the position.

Come on boys, come on, hurry up.

Make it faster.

Come on boys, make it quicker.

Hey Solberg don't forget to use your hands.

Hurry up, hurry up I say.

Hold it, now stay on course.

Be careful boys, slow it down,
slow it down. - Ok.

Ok.

Here we go.

- So long.
- So long.

Do you think he can make it?

Sure.

Oh boy.

Always ready to lend a hand, the US Navy
has been in the Mediterranean

for over a hundred and fifty years,

since the days of the wars against
the barbaric pirates.

More to the right.

- Here?
- Yes, ouch!

Ok, prepare everything.
Get him on the Table right now.

The Flying Clipper is ready to cruise
the Greek islands.

She is awaiting news of Udo, and word
comes from the Shangri-La.

Hey boys, look what came here,
from the Shangri-La.

- Let me see it.
- Let me read it too.

- Wait a moment.
- Let me see.

- Let me read it.
- The appendix is operated.

- Let me read it.
- Let me see.

Come on, come on, I have to bring it
to the Captain.

The island stepping-stones,
by which Greece conquered the Aegean,

became one by one an anchorage
for the Flying Clipper.

Little Mykonos, island in the sun,
has over two hundred churches,

that makes one church to every
two families.

For the men of Mykonos were once
pirates and the grey beards will tell us,

every time their fathers
brought back a big haul,

they raised another church to make it
all right with heaven.

(SINGING)

- Come here, look over there.
- Yeah, I saw it.

What's going on?

In Kalymnos, the pagan Greeks made
offerings to Poseidon, the god of the sea,

for his protection and good will.

The sponge fishing fleet still ask the need
for divine an assistance

in their dangerous calling.

Kalymnos girls wear white scarfs for
love and living, black scarfs for waiting.

Kalymnos girls wave banners of hope
that the fleet will return

with every whole full and every man safe.

Udo gets his new sea legs standing on
a hundred and eighty thousand

square feet of deck, unfenced, like
a field suspended above the earth.

Beyond the endless blue sea,
above the arch of the sky.

Oh.

Sorry friend.

Oh doesn't matter, can I help you?

The Shangri-La is an attack carrier
of the sixth fleet.

The battle ready fleet, which has
a striking force

greater than all the air forces
of World War II.

But she is a friendly ship, as prepared
for an earthquake disaster

as for a sailor's appendicitis.

The Shangri-La is an island on to herself.

An island that can place herself anywhere
in the watery provinces

that make up three quarters of
man's estate.

She is nourished by auxiliary ships.

Ships that feed her two thousand
five hundred officers and men,

ships to keep her aircraft flying and
her huge engines humming.

The Shangri-La burns the same amount of
electricity as a good-sized town.

The men of the navy accept Udo
as one of themselves.

And his ear catches accents as varying
as the parts of America

from which his messmates come.
The Corn Belt, the Mountains

the Mississippi and the Desert.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- You like it new sailor?
- Please?

Oh yes, it is mighty interesting.

The A4D Skyhawk can carry spare fuel tanks
and has a range of thousand miles.

And don't forget pilot,
it get's dangerous up there,

you keep that nose above the water!

Clear deck for flight operation.
All aircraft ready for takeoff.

Clear landing deck. All personnel
get ready to receive aircraft.

A little Skyhawk coming in.

And a new crusader.

If the aircraft comes in too high,
the hook won't grab the cable.

When you lean on the breeze on a deck
and the carrier is on the way.

They can tell by your knees and the hips in
your pants that you hail from the USA.

Never trust a reversible escalator.

And never trust a tattooed barber.

(VOICEOVER:
Clear deck for flight operation.)

Hey, but why did you do this?

Look over here.

(SIGN: REGULATION HAIR GUT ONLY)

It's time for Udo to go back
to the way of wind and sail.

Clipper stands by in a strong wind
to pick him up.

This is Captain Skoglund speaking.

Dr. Brown, I want to thank you very much,
for what you have done for our boy.

Oh, that's ok.
I think he is in good condition.

We will send him over right away.

Thanks again Sir and good-bye. Out.

We will take him over on a shore boat.

Oh well now, I hope you enjoyed
your stay with us son.

Oh yes, it was the most interesting time
in my life Sir. Thank you.

- Really?
- Oh, yes.

Do you feel all right now son?

Yes.

Well, have a wonderful trip on that
beautiful boat of yours,

enjoy yourself thoroughly
and keep that hair growing fast.

Pll try it.

- Good luck son. Bye.
- Good-Bye.

Take care.

The Flying Clipper is away.

Down for Greece, Italy,
the French Riviera and Spain.

(SEA SHANTY)

The Island fortresses of Rhodes
bask in the times of the crusades.

The sunny castles conjure up a nostalgia
for the pageantry of knighthood.

The whipped of the minstrels and the
capering's of the itinerant entertainer.

Even today, a bright lad with a jesters
band can take to the open road.

It is the Kings birthday
and Rhodes is at its best.

The barefoot mime is spurred to the great
big city by a Chaplinesque gift of imitation.

His ambition, to study the feubels
of his human customers.

The old fella is hitchhiking.

Well friend, are you coming with us?

- Sould we take him along?
- Sure, we'll take him on board.

He looks just like your brother.

This is much better than looking
humans in the kneecap.

The captain meets the Chaplin of Rhodes.

Charlie the Chimp and his monkeyshines.

Hey, what can you show us old friend?

Guys, you better take him ashore.

Catch him.

- Charlie, Charlie. - Charlie. - Charlie.
- Charlie, where are you. - Charlie.

(Charlie: Monkey Noise)

Look Charlie, 1 got coffee, help yourself.

Come on. Ja, jawohl.

He likes coffee just like us.

- Charlie, do you like it here?
- Do you want to stay with us?

(LAUGHTER)

Charlie, come on, let's go.

Having found out how the other half lives.

Charlie is ready to go back to
the mimes way of life.

Satisfied at last.
That Darwin one was right.

- Good-bye Charlie.
- So long.

(LUGHTER)
(Charlie: Monkey Noise)

Ok Charlie that's enough, let's take off.

Good-bye old boy, it was nice
to have you here.

- So long.
- Good-bye Charlie.

Say good-bye to your friends.

Isn't he educated well,
don't you think boys?

Don't let him get away again.

Hey Charlie are you hungry?

(BELL-RINGING)

- Let's go.
- Good-bye.

- Bye.
- Good-bye.

Take it easy Charlie.

That's for you. Lindstrom.
Hansfeld. Shorty that's for you.

- Hey, it feels like birthday huh?
- Oh, fine thank you, comes just in time.

Go back to work again.

(LAUGHTER)

Hey, get going.

Sailors at sea long for letter
from the homes,

from which they were so happy
to go adventuring.

Hello Jiirgen, there is something
I want to tell you.

Son, please, let your mother speak first.

Why can I not speak first?

Quiet!

Jargen, Jurgen my Boy.
Your father won this thing in a quiz

and sent it straight to you, so that
you can hear our voices.

- Great idea, huh?
- I am so...

- Stop it boys. Stop it.

Take good care of yourself,
so that you won't get ill.

Wear some warm clothes, it must be always
drafty on a sailing ship. Come home soon.

Can I speak now?
Hello Jiirgen, my big brother,

when you get to Athens,
please bring a little Acropolis for me.

They have such made of gypsum.

The sea road to Athens leads
the Flying Clipper toward Piraeus,

the Athenian shipbuilding port.

Nut things of Theseus sailing to rescue the
youth of Athens by slaying the Minotaur.

And of the terrifying voyage of the
Argonauts to get the Golden Fleece.

Athens won a fruitful peace
by defeating the Persians.

In the golden age that followed
the philosophers and dramatists of Athens

gave the western world its heritage
of ideas.

Democracy prospered, the arts flourished

and Pericles put the finishing touches
to the temples of the Acropolis.

The beautiful columns of the Panthenon fill
an intangible need of the human art.

Ladies and gentleman,
you can buy everything.

Outside, tourists play finders keepers.

For at the Acropolis,
one finds whatever one seeks.

At the temple of Erechtheus the
goddess Athena won the city of Athens

from Poseidon by making a sacred
olive tree spring from the ground.

Much of Greek culture rested on its women.

These graceful creatures are Caryatids.

I told you Mabel, there is not much left
to see once you've seen the Acropolis.

1 know, you're right, but I want...

In Plutarch's life we find two sayings
of the oracle at Delphi.

Know thy self.
and nothing too much,

which Plutarch says accord and harmonize
with each other.

For in know thy self is included
nothing too much

and so again in the latter is comprised
know thy self.

The name of Metéora doesn't ring a bell for
us, its fourth century monasteries will.

Four of them are still in inhabited.

They nestle in the mountaintops,
nearest to god and farthest from the devil.

Metéora means those that hang in the air.

Meantime in the hills of ancient Thessaly
the stork carries on

in his old-fashioned way,
as the oracle says,

all things necessary the gods permit and
the Greeks are very proud of the result.

The Evzones are mountain men.

The evzone skirt is like the
highland quilt.

But the Greek belt he wears stand
for courage and love.

- Good morning your Heine's.
- Good morning.

May I introduce our boys?

- How do you do?
- Hello.

Crown Prince Constantin is a
true Greek Olympian;

he is a saltwater sailor and the
Olympic champion in the dragonfly class.

Well then, I think we better start now.

The Crown Prince invites the boys
to a race. A Dragonfly against Lightnings.

Ulysses sailed to Naples where
the Siren of Capri fell in love with him

and when he didn't respond to her love,
she trough herself into the sea.

The fisherman of Naples found her
and they named Naples after her,

the city of Parthenope.

They have the finest fish fries
outside of Cape Cod.

Simple folk hang their washing in the sun
the flags of the heart of Naples.

Naples has shining new apartments too,

where the rich can hang their
nylons in the bathtub.

The tourist rush began on Capri
in the second century BC.

Nowadays the hydrofoil will take
you there in a few minutes.

Capri is as splendid in reality as it is
in the lines of the poet Shelley.

The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
the waves are dancing fast and bright.

The romans called capreae the island
of goats, the pearl of the bay of Naples.

And Capri is one to all men,
where the rich eat spaghetti in the sun

and the poor eat spaghetti in the sun
and sailors eat spaghetti in the sun.

Everywhere the blue waters of
the Mediterranean sparkle in the sun,

beckoning young men to
the isle of mermaids.

Where you ever in Capri
bonnie laddie, highland laddie?

Where the sky is in the sea,
bonnie laddie, highland laddie.

Hi Ho away she goes.
My bonnie, highland laddie.

The Riviera spreads its welcome mat
of golden beaches out for everyone.

From lively Saint Tropez to Cannes,
from jazzy warmly Cannes to Nice,

from calm Cap Ferrat
to the palace of Monaco.

It is the season.

Beware people at play for this
is the land of

drink what wine we have today,
who cares about tomorrow.

Where the newly arrived good time
Charlie may be

yesterday's hastily departed embezzler
from London, New York or Brasilia.

The Cote d'Azur, where bald headed kings
and blue-eyed chorus girls

fall in love at first sight and at second
glance find, there was somebody else.

To a native the Miami of Europe,
crass and brassy,

live today and pay tomorrow and
start again at dawn before the tab comes.

The tranquil idyllic south of France,
where Irish redheads bathe to be seen

and the Siamese Princess bask incognito.

(SINGING)

Sur la plage, where French, Algerian,
Chinese, Tonkinese, Tahitian, Australian,

German and cockney imitation Bardot's meet
and mingle sur la plage, on the beach.

Beware people at play.

And jack is every inch a sailor,
enjoying surely.

(SINGING)

Monaco is like the American hobo dream
of the big rock candy mountain,

where princess pedal bicycles and the
sardine king sail by in floating palaces.

And the Monegasques live tax-free.

The boys meet Graham Hill in his Ferrari.

And Phil Hill, the reigning champion.

A man must have nerve and skill to tackle
the hairpin bins and winding curves

of the Grand Prix de Monaco.

It's the man who wins this battle,
not the engine alone.

The drivers have to make one hundred
circuits around the course,

which is the most dangerous
two miles in the racing world.

The captain admires a beautiful lady,
as Prince Rainier and Princess Grace

began the ceremony to the starting stand.

The man with the starting flag
is the chief of the course,

Louis Chiron,
he won the race in the twenties.

You can feel the tension in the air
as the cars rev up to the starting line.

That's Jack Barbham in car 14.

Watch the flag, they're off.

The greatest gamble in Monte Carlo
today isn't at the casino,

it's at the Grand Prix.

The cars from all countries are
mainly Lotus, Ferraris, or Coopers.

What these men find today in taking
chances in speed and personal safety,

we gain tomorrow.

It's a tremendous feeling in the
cockpit of one of those cars.

That's Phil Hill, the man,
who hit the bank of Monte Carlo.

Last year's champ and this year's
ex-champ by the looks of things.

(MUSIC)

They hit the straight way,
the checkered flag for...

...Bruce McLaren!

And the Princess
hails the new champion.

First the boys join Prince Rainier,
Princess Grace and the excited Monegasques

and hail the new King Bruce McLaren.

Naturally, sailors go for soft shoulders
and dangerous curves.

In my grand prix go mobile I have
a heart shaped steering wheel.

Chasing you is lots of fun,
though there is only room for one.

(MUSIC)

(SHANTY SINGING)

In Barcelona, the duty watch would
dearly like to swim ashore.

It's a great liberty town.

Vamos amigos, adelante, adelante.
Welcome to Barcelona.

The captain stays with his ship,
the Santa Maria,

which he will give his small son, one of
who's heroes is Christopher Columbus.

Nothing could drag him away
from finishing the model,

not all the Kings horses or
all the Kings men.

When the American Indians
first saw the Spanish conquistadores

riding their magnificent Arab horses,
they believed man and horse to be

a mythical creature like a centaur.

In Spain, man and horse are one.

De Guardia di Barcelona are
amongst Spain's finest.

The Arabs they ride are
the direct descendants

of the hot-blooded stallions of the Moors.

It's easy to understand the Arabs believe
that Allah fashioned the Arab horse

from the magic of the winds.

Grenada is filled with living memories
of the Moors, in the beautiful Alhambra,

home of the Moorish Kings, which
was taken back by Ferdinand and Isabella,

in the year in which the Moors
were driven out.

The year that Christopher Columbus
opened the way to the new world.

The Moors also gave Spain
the musical scale of the Moorish lute,

the cool crystal fountains,
the shady gardens...

...and the anguished cry of the sajdah,
which rings through Seville in holy week.

The Moorish lament.

Santa semana, holy week in Seville,

most truly reflects the passionate
character of the Spanish people.

Day and night, the brotherhoods of the
Penitentes, carry their heavy Pasos,

one of Christ one of the Virgin, from palm
Sunday until the joyous pealing

of the bells on Easter Sunday.

Many Sevillanos belong to one of these
brotherhoods of Penitantes,

which they enter as children, like the
children who walk these narrow streets,

scented with the aroma of burning
beeswax candles.

The sunshine of Seville is in the
warm hearts of the people,

which is why Seville women give their
jewels to La Macarena,

of whom the great poet Lope de Vega said:

"At dawn the virgin is born and
with her the sun,

but who bears the sun,
cannot fear the night”.

The men wear hoods in mourning
for holy week.

Through the narrow streets where Cervantes
is in jail and he is immortal, Don Quixote.

Yet on Easter Sunday,
the same sad faces will rejoice.

Seville is the city of Figaro,
of Don Juan, of Carmen.

Sevillanos take everything in life
with great passion, which is why Seville

is the spiritual heart of Andalusia.

Tonight the chanted lament,
tomorrow the trumped and the flamenco,

that's the spirit of Seville.

(SINGING)

La Feria, the spring fair.

Every Spaniard is a caballero,
if he has the right hat to wear.

A flat brim sevillano.

Muy Caballo, muy mujer.

Fine horse, a pretty girl
that makes the spring fair.

Everyone is young at the spring fair;

the perfume of orange blossoms
fills the air.

Green is the spirit of Seville
at the Feria.

Spring brings out the greenest of the
green horns and the fairest of the fair.

The tiniest niflo is an Andalusian
gipsy to the littlest caballero,

if she has the right flower in her hair.

Verde, yo te quiero verde.

I want you young in springtime,
at the spring fair.

Yes, every day is a feast of life and today
marks the opening of the bullfight season.

Enter of the toreros,
the picadors and the matadors.

The stage is the plaza de toros de Sevilla.
The golden sands of the Guarda Cordia.

The elegant grace and spirit
of the Seville Bullring

is in the zestful heel cap of
the Seville dance.

Are they two things or the one thing?

In the little narrow streets away from
the bright lights of the Feria,

sailors are making their farewells
to Seville.

A hundred days and nights in the
Mediterranean will shine as brightly

and as unforgettably, as the lights of the
Feria in the minds of these young men.

One by one, they make their
way back to the ship,

taking home silver combs and laced
mantillas to go with the gold bangles

and shells that sing of the sea.

The men, who stand by to sail home on the
dawn tide, are men whose eyes

will always say they gave their hearts
to the pagan Mediterranean.

(SHANY SINGING)