Original subtitles

C'mon, 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 is 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 my 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 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'll follow us 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

and let the winds blow the floe back 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 of the plan?

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

I've 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?

Because he was murdered.

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

I bet you've seen more than your 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?

D'you think he killed the boy?

Isn't for me to say.

- Isn't it? - It's no concern of mine.

Well, 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 and hearty enough, considering.

I expect I'll 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 no 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 learned 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 little fucker

like Hannah could've been strangled

with one hand easy enough, 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 marks.

Before the burial, I made sketches of his injuries.

See?

Two large oval bruises, one above the other.

Oh, 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.

So am I supposed to arrest the entire fucking crew?

- Is that what you're saying? - No. I-I-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... 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 pleasure, 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 offence now though, is it?

Oh!

No signs of infection.

No signs of soreness or abrasion either.

Show me your hands, please.

Ah, this has healed nicely, I see.

Well, it was just a scratch.

And you have full use of all of 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.

Ah. 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 the word of that cunt McKendrick,

then you must fancy I'm a liar.

Oh, I don't know what you are.

I'm an honourable 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 honourable men here, or at least honourable 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 find his way back to his cabin

after the night in Lerwick.

You likely won't remember, Mr. Sumner,

because 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 little scraps of paper weighs the most,

I wonder, in an English court of law?

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

but a good lawyer'd 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?

Because if you have none,

it's you against me, I'd say.

My solemn word, sworn on the Bible, against yours.

- 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 little hard of hearing, Captain

I keep asking him the same fucking question,

and he don't seem to notice.

What evidence do you hold against Drax?

I have none.

Then let's put an end to this fucking nonsense.

Drax, get your clothes back on.

What's that mark on your arm?

Uh, 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.

l can tell it's swollen from here.

Now, 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's sake. Here. Take a look.

This needs to be lanced and properly drained.

Why didn't you come to see me about this before?

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

Come to my cabin.

We'll treat you properly there.

Well, there's definitely something lodged inside.

Might be a splinter of wood 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.

Well, it's in your arm!

- It ain't mine. - A cabin boy's tooth is evidence,

that's what it is.

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.

Chain up this vile piece of scum, Captain.

- Cavendish! - Captain!

Jones! Jones!

- The fuck... - Jones!

Give the stick to Sumner.

I could blow your head off right now,

or I'll 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.

He will have lost his bearings...

scrambled.

Generally, it's better to die

than to go on inhabiting the world like this.

Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh.

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 them a little mind,

but since they don't, you won't be too offended

if I take no fucking notice of you.

There's too much ice at this time of year.

Yeah.

And if you take us 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?

This is 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 already.

What did you say?

I said you're a fucking imbecile.

Settle now.

Settle now.

Shh...

♪ Nearer, my God to Thee ♪

♪ Nearer to Thee ♪

♪ Even though it be a cross ♪

♪ That raiseth me ♪

♪ Still all my songs 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 I'll be ♪

♪ 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 here. 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 hold chained to the mainmast,

bound hand and foot. He cannot escape.

Now let us not speak or worry about Henry Drax any more.

Sumner! Sumner?

Go with O'Dowd, Wilkie and Price, and arm yourselves.

Equal shares for all.

You'll get nothing out of Corbyn.

Don't ever think you will.

His wife is a fucking baroness.

His brother is a judge.

A man like Corbyn doesn't feel obliged.

Wilkie, guard the fucking door!

- Guard the fucking door! - Almost there.

Look at these darlings!

Fucking diamonds!

We'll prise out the stones,

and melt down the gold.

We're fucking rich, Paddy.

We're fucking rich.

Look out!

Hello, Patrick.

Mr. Corbyn, sir.

I hear the others are all dead.

O'Dowd, Wilkie, Price, all of them, dead.

We were caught unawares, sir.

In the house.

Your wound was clean and the break isn't bad.

You may limp for a while but that will soon fade

and then no one will ever know.

The treasure was real.

Gold, jewels,

just as Hamid had said,

but there were pandies hiding inside the house.

You walked into a trap then.

You made a mistake.

Not a trap, no. An accident.

Nobody could've known that they were in there.

For a surgeon to leave his post, it's a serious thing.

There's likely to be a charge.

The assault was at a crucial stage.

To lose three surgeons at such a time...

I trust I can rely on your assistance, Mr. Corbyn, sir?

I don't see what assistance I could offer you.

I mean on the details of what occurred.

The details are that your reckless greed

meant that three of your fellow surgeons

were shot and killed in an ambush.

On a mission that you ordered us on!

On your command to steal the loot!

And in your absence, your injured comrades,

several officers amongst them,

lay untreated and often in severe agony.

Men you could have saved.

That, I fear, is as much as the General wants

or is required to understand.

So you expect me to keep my mouth shut

and accept my punishment?

I will be dismissed, cashiered.

My career will be over.

I advise you not to make a bad situation worse.

To bring my name into this would not serve you well,

I can assure you of that.

So you will offer me nothing for my trouble?

I offer you my advice, which is to accept

the consequences of your actions.

Oh, you were unlucky, I agree,

but then again you are alive, and the others are dead.

You are destroying me!

And for what?

There is a melancholic strain in the Celtic soul,

which finds martyrdom appealing,

I understand that.

But in your case, Mr. Sumner, the cap hardly fits.

I saw the hunger in your eyes at the thought of that treasure,

at the prospect of a different life.

Oh, fucking...

But I will make sure you have

a ready supply of laudanum for the pain.

That will help with your frame of mind too, I'm sure of it.

Homo homini lupus.

Homo homini lupus.

All hands!

All hands, all hands!

All hands, men!

All hands, all hands!

Double up and empty the ship!

Casks have to be first!

Jones! Lower the second boat.

Aye! Lower the second boat!

Aye, Mr. Jones.

- Let's go. - Get it down!

- Move! - Jones?

The ice has nipped her, she's likely stoved in the aft.

- She's sinking? - Aye.

It's the upward pressure of the ice holding her,

but only at the moment.

If the wind changes, we're fucked.

So go down there and get everything that you need out onto the ice

and put all of your clothes on.

Jesus Christ.

Get it down! I need a crew of three for rifles.

- Throw it out, count them twice. - Go onto the ice

and check it's secure. You two, take all of these.

I need five of you to start.

Make it quicker!

Check what's in that boat.

Put some salt on the gangway.

Lads, with a will.

Get as much as you can carry.

How we doing on the lull?

Get it off the ship. Laudanum first.

Eyes on that then, please.

Those with powder, you keep it fucking dry.

- Mr. Bannon. - Mr. Sumner.

Hello.

This chest, it contains the medicine for this entire crew.

Very important you do not lose it.

Do you understand?

- Aye, sir. - Very good. Thank you.

How many casks of beef?

- How many casks of beef? - Twelve, Captain!

We need to get a start.

That's it. Pull it down. Pull it down.

You'll freeze the tent out

if you don't hammer it down properly.

Good job, lads, good job. That's the last of it now.

Almost everything's off the ship.

- Just a few casks left. - Good.

What now?

We'll raise the ensign and alert the Hastings.

They will give us refuge.

Are you sure Morwood's gonna agree?

You go over in the first wave of men.

Leave enough here to gather what is left and we will follow.

And have Sumner stay behind with me.

I want him here.

And what about Drax?

I'll see to Henry Drax.

I'd say there's no need for such girlish panicking.

There ain't even any water down here.

Go fuck yourself.

I saw with me own eyes.

She bent a good deal all right, but she didn't break.

I don't believe ya.

Take a look for yourself.

Once the ice eases off,

you can send McKendrick down here with a caulking iron.

- He'll fix her up nicely. - You keep your mouth shut,

or I'll leave you here, let you take your chances.

She ain't sinking, Michael.

We dearly wish she was, but she ain't.

I can promise you that.

Listen to her squeal.

Creaking, and wailing like a sixpenny whore.

You think she can stand much more of that

if she ain't stoved in already?

Ah, she's a good strong ship.

She's doubled and fortified.

She got ice knees, ice plates, stanchions.

She's old, but she ain't weak!

I'd say she could stand a good deal of squeezing still.

This is a good spot. I'll give you that.

And it's a good bit of luck you got pinched like that.

What are you implying?

Well, you're good and safe up here on the fast ice too.

Morwood can warp back easy if a lead opens up.

What is it, a mile or two to get to him?

I think the rest of you,

you probably think she's stoved in already, I expect.

They won't be making any trouble.

How did you know?

I know a thing or two about a thing or two.

And I know we didn't come all the way up here to catch fucking fish.

She can't survive this one.

- She can't. - She will if you let her.

But if you knock a plank or two out of her arse, she surely wouldn't.

Just give me ten minutes down here with an axe, that's all.

You killed Brownlee with a walking stick,

and you think I'm gonna give you an axe?

If you don't believe me,

then look behind the casks for yourself.

See if I'm lying.

Why kill the boy?

What's the benefit in that?

A man don't always think on the benefits.

So what does he think on?

I do as I must.

There ain't a great deal of cogitation involved.

Get the axe, Michael.

Jones!

My medicine chest. Have you seen it?

Yeah, it's been transferred to the other boat.

- You've definitely seen it? - Yes.

How am I supposed to do my work without my kit?

Don't worry. You'll get it soon enough.

Whoa. Whoa, whoa.

Why have I been ordered to stay here?

Cavendish's orders.

Cavendish.

I might've known.

Listen.

Hey. Otto will make sure that no harm comes to you,

and I'll be back soon enough.

Morwood is a good captain, all right,

and he'll treat us well.

- I'm more concerned about that medicine chest. - I know you are.

But I got ya.

- Take care, you. - Hey, you too.

There she is. Nowt but a dribble.

Oh, shit. How can this be?

It's like I told her.

She bent a good deal, but she didn't ever break.

She won't sink unless you make her do it, Michael.

That's how it is.

Nothing is simple in this world.

This don't put me under any obligation.

I can't free you now. Not after Brownlee.

The cabin boy was one thing,

the cabin boy is plenty bad enough,

but not the damn Captain.

And I ain't asking for it. I wouldn't presume.

Then what?

If the time ever comes,

all I ask is that you don't hinder me,

don't stand athwart.

You allow events to take their natural course.

Turn the blind eye, that's what you're asking.

Well, the time may never come!

I mean, I may hang in England for what I done.

But if it ever does come?

Aye, if it ever does.

And what about my nose?

Well, you were never no Adonis, Michael.

I suspect some might call it an improvement.

You've got some fair-sized balls,

to say that to a man hefting an axe.

Like a nice, big pair of tatties.

I'll even let you stroke 'em if you like.

Go on! Go on!

We need to take shelter.

The storm will on us soon.

We'll trek to the Hastings once it's passed.

In you come!

I don't want Drax in here.

Put him outside to freeze.

Even that's too good for him.

I want every fucker here where I can see him.

But if you wanna sleep outside, McKendrick,

I can make an exception.

The storm will pass quick.

We'll be on the Hastings drinking rum soon enough.

Don't be afraid. I ain't about to try anything too desperate

with these shackles dangling off me.

I'm not afraid.

How's your arm?

- Which arm would that be? - The right one.

The one which had our cabin boy's tooth lodged in it.

Ah, just a nick. I'm a quick healer.

But, you know, how that tooth got in there is still beyond me.

I can't explain it at all.

No remorse then?

No guilt?

Did you think I was gonna kill you down in the cabin?

Spilt your head open like I did Brownlee.

What else were you intending?

Oh, I don't intend much.

No, I'm, I'm a doer, not a thinker, me.

I follow my inclination, that's all.

You must have no conscience at all then?

Are you utterly indifferent to ethical considerations?

Well, one thing happens, and then another comes after it.

Why is the first thing more important than the second?

Why is the second more important than the third? Tell me that?

Because each action is separate and distinct.

Some are good, some are evil.

Them's just words.

If they hang me, they hang me 'cause they can,

and 'cause they wish to do it.

They will be following their inclination as I follow mine.

You recognise no authority then,

no right or wrong beyond yourself?

Men like you ask questions to satisfy themselves.

You know, makes yourselves feel cleaner,

cleverer than the rest. But you ain't!

You think we are all like you, but how?

How? How is that possible?

Well, I've seen enough killing

to suspect I ain't the only one to do it.

I'm a man like any other, give or take.

No. That I will not accept.

Well, you please yourself, like I please myself.

You know, you accept what suits you,

you reject what don't.

The law is just a name they give to what certain men prefer.

There is no reasoning with you.

Why did you keep the gold ring?

Why not sell it on, man?

I keep it... for...

remembrance.

Well, a man who's scared of himself

ain't much of a man in my book.

You think I'm scared?

Aye. Because of whatever happened over there.

Whatever it was you did or didn't do.

You say you keep it for remembrance,

but that ain't it at all, it can't be.

You do not know me.

You have no idea what I am.

Well, there ain't a terrible lot to know.

You're not as complicated as you think.

What little there is to know,

well, I reckon I know it well enough.

Wake up! Sumner!

Sumner! Wake up!

- I have these! - With a will!

Get out!

Get that one down there!

Just jump on it!

Webster, Bannon, get the sides!

Get those lines over here!

Hold the sides!

Jump on it!

Keep the lamps away from the tent!

Get over there and help!

Get me some line!

Use them casks. Bring 'em here!

Get over there!

Oh, fuck!

Where is she?

Gone.

Gone where?

Most likely she ventured out into the pack last night

to escape from the bergs.

Morwood knows where we are.

All we need to do is wait for him here,

show a bit of faith and patience.

Why would a ship unmoor in the middle of a storm?

Surely it would be safer to remain where she was?

Well, if a berg is bearing down,

the Captain does what's needed to save the ship.

Exactly. Whatever you have to do, you do it.

How long might we have to wait here for?

That all depends.

If she finds open water, then it could be today.

- If not then... - I don't have my medicine chest.

It was taken across already without...

Is any man here sick?

Not yet, no.

Then I'd say your medicine chest

is the least of our fucking worries.

And if she's sunk, Mr. Cavendish?

She ain't sunk!

Are there any other ships in the area?

Anyone that could possibly save us?

No. I'm afraid we're not near enough.

It's too late in the season and we're too far north.

Most of the fleet will have left Pond's Bay by now.

She ain't sunk.

She's somewhere out there in the Sound, that's all.

If we wait here, she'll turn up right enough.

We should go out on the whaleboat to search.

She could've been blown miles off to the east.

And if we don't find her, what then?

Then I hope you brought your swimming togs with you, Paddy.

Because we're an awful long fucking way to anywhere else!

You listen to me!

The Hastings has gone, likely into the Sound.

You mean she's sunk?

What I need from you is some faith!

She'll be here today or tomorrow.

You never had a fucking plan.

Just do what Brownlee would've done!

You don't fucking speak to your captain like that.

I am telling you for the last time.

- What we gonna do now, eh? - This is your fucking fault!

Oh, fuck!

I'll put the second bullet into any cunt who fancies his chances.

I'm the captain still,

and I'll cheerfully kill any mutinous bastard

who dares to think otherwise.

I'm a loose cannon, I am.

I do whatever takes my fancy at the time,

and you best remember that

if you ever think of crossing me again.

Tomorrow we make a run for Pond's Bay.

The Hastings will be there, but if it's not,

we'll surely find another ship to take us.

It's a hundred mile to Pond's Bay if it's an inch.

Then you bastards best sober up and get some damn sleep!

It's a foolish way to go.

Man's carrying a rifle,

you don't take him on with a barrel stave.

That's simple common sense.

- I'm the captain, still. - Aye.

You clear him out.

You clear him out now, you Danish prick!

I need my laudanum, I need my laudanum.

I need my laudanum.

I need that chest.

- No, you don't. - I need that chest.

- No, you need to rest. - You don't understand, Otto.

- I do understand. - Please.

There's nothing we can do.

You need to rest.

No, I'm too hot. I'm too hot.

No, you're not. You gotta stay warm.

I'm not telling you any more.

You need to rest.

Sumner, listen to me.

You need to rest.

There. That's it.

Stay warm.

I have tried every hospital

that I can think of,

and my diplomas mean nothing now.

All of my hard work has been completely squandered.

I'm sorry I can't help you.

I know you're a talented surgeon.

Perhaps England is not the place for you anymore.

Too rigid, too severe.

You must give up such an idea and try America.

Or Brazil.

They will forgive a man of his mistakes in Brazil, but not here.

Not in England.

Not unless you are a certain kind of man,

and unfortunately, neither you or I will ever be that man.

But you believe me, don't you? About Corbyn?

You believe that all of this was his doing?

Sending us to find the loot.

My court-martial.

All of it was because of him.

I do believe you.

But I fear others will not.

Or even if they do, they cannot risk helping you.

You do understand that, don't you?

Fucking Corbyn.

I'm sorry to say your story is a friendly reminder,

a warning if you will,

of what calamities might overtake us

if we lose our vigilance against privileged men like him.

Start again, that is my advice.

He inherits this estate in North Norfolk, or somewhere.

He's convinced he's gonna be a gentleman farmer.

Apparently, the ground's so salty,

he can't grow potatoes, let alone...

- Excuse me, Mr. Corbyn? - Hm?

Fuck!

What the hell are you doing?

You bastard!

I should find a constable and have you arrested.

Jesus. Who are you?

I am no one.

Don't lie to me.

- I recognise that face. - No, I'm sorry.

I am no one, no one at all.

If you really are no one,

then I don't suppose you'll object too much to this.

The Hastings is gone.

Sunk in the storm.

Smashed to little pieces by a berg

and every fucker in her, bar none, is drowned for sure.

We'll winter over.

It's been done before.

It hasn't been done before

and it hasn't been done before because it can't be done.

Not unless you have a ship to shelter in

and ten times the provisions we have.

We'll find a ship, and if we don't, we'll winter over.

Whichever way it goes, we'll all live long enough

to see you hanged in England, you can be sure of that.

I'd be happier hanged

than starve or freeze to death, I tell you.

We'll drown you now, you cavilling bastard.

One less fucking mouth to feed.

You wouldn't like my dying words too well if you tried that trick.

Although there are others here who might find 'em interesting enough.

You haven't got nothing on me, Henry.

So don't ever think you do.

Oh, I ain't squeezing, Michael.

I'm just reminding

that the time may never come, but if it does come,

it'd suit you to be ready.

That's all.

- Synced and corrected by Firefly - - www.addic7ed.com