All language subtitles for The Man From U.N.C.L.E. S03E19 The Yo-Ho-Ho and a Bottle of Rum Affair

You've still got plenty of time.

The ship isn't due to
sail for two hours yet.

What do you mean I have
plenty of time? What about you?

There may be some new
developments here, you go on ahead.

If you need me, just whistle.

You sail immediately.

Impossible. The first
mate won't be back...

Immediately.

You'll see to it that the
captain follows those orders.

You will steer this course
until 1000 hours, Wednesday.

At that time, you will open this
envelope for further instructions.

This voyage had better go according
to plan and precisely on schedule.

Oh, yes. Yes, indeed,
Miss Janus. Timing is vital.

I've always been against
hiring a degraded drunk.

So if he fouls this up...

I understand.

Miss Janus.

You and your people
have chartered this ship.

But I am its captain,
master of its soul.

Skipper next to God, that's
what they call a ship's captain.

Yet you marched in here...

to see a mortal touched
with divinity without knocking.

That's worse than bad
manners, it verges on blasphemy.

Bon voyage, captain,
or it will be your last.

Captain, captain,
control yourself.

I'm in perfect control.

It was an empty bottle.

Did you find it?

Uh, not yet.

What was that?

Rats.

Oh, I should've known.

If you were here, you'd know.

I beg your pardon?

You said to whistle
if I wanted you.

Well, I want you.

Sealed orders. Heh, melodrama.

You people are always
steeped in melodrama.

Of course, I suppose we all
must be steeped in something.

Take her out.

I'm sorry, Illya.

What can I say?

Well, you could say goodbye.

Oh, put that film on
the monitor, please.

Oh, thank you.

Tsk. Let me. Thank you.

Is this the woman, Mr. Solo?

Yes, sir.

Jenny Janus.

Janus?

Isn't that the name of the Roman
god that could look both ways at once?

Occasionally, Thrush comes up...

with a classically appropriate nom
de guerre for a leading operative.

How about this fellow?

No, that man wasn't
at the quayside.

Not surprising.

He's not due in Hong
Kong for another two days.

- Professor Powers, isn't it?
- Yes.

The man who created the tidal-wave
device and turned it over to Thrush...

after which we
received the ultimatum.

Ten billion dollars in
various currencies...

or every coastal city in the world
will disappear beneath a wall of water.

So the ship must be
taking the machine...

to a place that is ideally situated for
the launching of global tidal waves.

Precisely.

Professor Powers bears...

a faint resemblance
to you, don't you think?

Am I to understand that,
uh, Professor Powers...

is going to arrive in Hong
Kong two days early?

Very good, Mr. Solo.

And you'll go straight to the
Fiery Dragon Cabaret Bar.

Jenny Janus is an
entertainer there.

As Professor Powers...

I think you ought to be
able to persuade her...

to tell you where
that ship's going.

Can't we just ask
Illya on Channel D?

Attempts to communicate with Mr. Kuryakin
on board ship have been fruitless.

Either that vessel's under
a jamming umbrella or...

Or Illya may have
been discovered and...

Yes, Mr. Solo.

He may have been
discovered and, uh...

Open Channel D.

Hello, hello.

Well, by some electronic fluke,
you may hear me. So hear this.

I'm gonna try and find some explosives
on board and complete the mission.

The risk to me is considerable.

I therefore hereby officially
apply for an H1 classification...

Hero, Class 1, when
my file is closed.

If you can hear me, please
note that the stage here...

is set for noble tragedy.

On the other hand, if
I'm talking to myself...

the situation is merely
one of lunatic farce.

There's going to be
rough weather ahead.

We've got to check that cargo
and see that it's fully secured.

It needs an overhaul...

by which I mean it should be
hauled out and thrown over the side.

I cannot be responsible.

What do you want me to do? I can't
get a farthing to repair this old tub.

Hey, what do we have here?

Who are you?

What's going on here?

Him.

- We found him here.
- A stowaway is my concern.

He doesn't look like
any stowaway to me.

That he doesn't.

Get back to your engine, you
haggis-bashing grease monkey.

Let's understand
something crystal clear:

You and your mysterious
associates have chartered this ship...

but I am the captain.

And from the time of the Vikings down
to this age of the atomic submarine...

the captain is law,
life, death, personified.

- He's in the hold.
- I don't care if he's in aspic.

I will not tolerate you and
any of your very petty officers...

interfering in the
running of my ship.

- This stowaway...
- He's in the hold.

He's part of the cargo and
the cargo is my responsibility.

What is that ridiculous-looking
cargo of yours anyway?

A contraband Humpty Dumpty?

That is not your concern.

Then further conversation between
us appears to be superfluous.

Come along, you fellow.

We've been going around in circles
and I pride myself on my navigation.

We'll start again.

- Who are you?
- Illya Kuryakin.

Unavoidably at your service.

Oh, ha, so you have a name.

We're making progress. Why
are you a stowaway, Kuryakin?

Mr. Kuryakin.

Answer me, Kuryakin.
Why'd you stowaway?

Well, on land, I was all at sea.

I, uh...

I thought I would
regularize the situation.

Where are you heading for?

Nowhere in particular.
I'm just getting away.

From what?

Well, you forgive me, but I'm
afraid that's none of your business.

Insolent. Insolent
now, as well as evasive.

I want a straight,
respectful answer.

- Why did you choose this ship?
- It reminded me of a poem.

Dirty British coaster With
a salt-caked smokestack

Butting through the Channel in
the mad March days with a cargo...

So you know Masefield.

Of Tyne coal, road-rails,
pig lead, Firewood

I trust, Kuryakin, that your love
for poetry will help sustain you...

while you face the prosaic fact that a
stowaway has to pay for his passage...

and pay heavily.

- Report to the boatswain.
- Aye, aye, sir.

Don't be insolent.

The cargo is unharmed.

What did you find out?

He knows Masefield.

And who is Masefield?

A coherent conversation with
you is quite out of the question.

To John Masefield...

poet laureate of England.

I'd like to talk to Miss Janus.

Uh, so does every other
man in the Far East, sir.

Maybe she'll make an
exception in my case.

On second thought,
I'm sure she will see you.

If you'd like to wait, it's the
second door to the right, sir.

- Miss Janus?
- Professor Powers.

Here, this will
make you feel better.

I hope so.

Tsk, tell me, is it
customary in Thrush...

for you to drop your business
associates through trapdoors?

- Business associates?
- Uh-huh.

How do I know for sure
you're Professor Powers?

Yes, the search for identity, it
is the problem of our age, isn't it?

Oh, you did arrive on time,
but then that's not enough proof.

Oh, that's no proof at all.

I arrived two days early.

Hmm. Well, you pass that test.
But why did you arrive so early?

Rumor has it that you're more desirable
than any female has a right to be.

And since I'm a scientist,
rumor isn't enough.

Visual evidence is necessary.

And I would like you to know
that you've passed that test already.

Hmm. Welcome, professor.

Mm, I really am very
sorry about your reception...

but then we can't
take any chances.

None at all?

You're much younger
than I expected.

I was a child prodigy.

- Professor.
- When do we take off?

- To rendezvous with the ship?
- Mm-hm.

Oh, don't worry, we
have some time to kill.

Well, leave us not waste it.

Time and tidal
wave wait for no man.

Or woman.

- It's awfully hot, isn't it, captain?
- What do you expect in the tropics?

The stowaway, what
did you do with him?

Put him to work. He's to let me
know as soon as he sees an iceberg.

Talk, you arrogant scum.

I know the loathsome self-pitying
history of every social outcast aboard.

Who are you to keep
your secret from me?

Who are you? What
are you? Kuryakin!

Mr. Kuryakin, Mr. Kuryakin...

Oh, he's delirious.
Cool him off.

Oh, dear, it's made
a mess of the deck.

Swab it, my stubborn stowaway.

Swab it till it's as
dry as your wit.

Then, by way of contrast,
report to the engine room.

- I was told to report to you.
- I expected as much.

Hank.

- This is Mr...
- Kuryakin.

Kuryakin, a stowaway.

But a man to be treated
with respect, like all creatures.

Hank here will
show you the ropes.

Glad to know you.

Ugh.

Man, I don't envy you.

- Why? Isn't this a happy ship?
- Happy?

Food's lousy, pay is worse.

We got a skipper that will make
Captain Bligh look like a bleeding heart.

Crew's been talking mutiny
ever since I been aboard.

Only trouble is, we're a bunch
of followers without a leader.

- Won't he do?
- Scotty?

Won't he fill the bill?

Oh, he could lead us all right if he
wanted to, but he doesn't want to.

All he cares about is his engine.
He's in love with that engine.

Scotty's not like
the rest of us.

He could walk off this
floating sweatshop any time...

greet the fuzz hello, solid
citizen, nothing to fear.

Ain't none of the
rest of us can do that.

But he stays.

Maybe he's too old
to get another ship.

Scotty just can't leave.
In love with an engine.

Don't understand him.

Who's asking you to understand anything
but the need to keep yon gear greased?

Don't blow your stack, daddy.
Leave that to your engine.

You two mind your
work. I'll mind the engine.

- There she goes again.
- Hank.

Huh?

Are there any
explosives on board?

Sure. Captain Morton.

- Hank.
- Yeah, yeah.

You're more full of questions than
the back room of a station house.

- Where are we headed?
- Sealed orders.

That's the way this tub
travels, 10 times out of 10.

Sealed orders in
Captain Morton's safe.

- Hank.
- What now?

Do you have a rag?

Oh, that was nice.

Sort of makes me hate to go.

Go?

Well, I have to work
for a living, you know.

A place called the Fiery
Dragon. Remember?

Oh, yes. The... With the
trapdoor, I'll go along with you.

Oh, I'm sorry, dear, but
business before pleasure, hmm?

You read some magazines.

What are you doing
here, Kuryakin?

This is officers' country.
Why aren't you below?

Well, it was such a lovely
night, so I thought I'd take a walk.

I'll get a respectful
answer from you yet. Get in.

Had a good day, Kuryakin?

Mr. Kuryakin.

When it comes to
terms of address...

Mr. Kuryakin, you don't
know to whom you're talking.

You dare to bear
contempt for me.

"Captain Rupert Oliver
Morton, Royal Navy...

hereby accused by general court-martial
of misappropriating the men's rum ration.

How plead you?"

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

Not...

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

Me, a Morton, court-martialed.

Why, the very seabed
heaved in protest...

the salt-cleansed bones
of generations of Mortons.

Royal Navy men from
the founding of the fleet...

those bones stirred in
helpless, disbelieving anger.

Lieutenant.

I know you now.
I knew something.

You look like him,
the young lieutenant...

the one officer who spoke
up for me at my court-martial.

Gentlemen...

the charge leveled against
me is patently absurd.

Well-documented, substantiated
by a conspiracy of perjuring forgers...

but transparently ludicrous.

The real charge has not,
indeed cannot be substantiated...

because as my loyal
witness has testified...

the unspoken indictment
has been brought against me...

by a cabal of mutinous traitors.

Traitors to the
concept of discipline.

Do you hear me, Mortons
resting in the deep?

Do you hear and understand?

The old boozer's
baring his soul.

Yeah. You better
go tell the boss.

Yeah, If I'm not back in
an hour, throw out a net.

When I came back after they
had considered their verdict...

the point of the
sword was toward me.

That means guilty.

And I was out of the Royal Navy.

If only they had
plunged that sword...

deep into...

I think you better get
some sleep, captain.

Come and lie down.

Thank you, lieutenant.

You stood by me, lieutenant.

I shall never forget...

You are accused
by these people...

of attempting to rob
my safe last night.

How plead you?

Well, how did you
plead, captain?

How dare you!

Help, help!

It's happened, as I warned you.

Yon engine's had it! It's
gonna blow, blow us all to glory.

Get him up. Take
care of that arm.

Where are you going?

Where do you think I'm going?

He's a key man, captain.

All right.

Very heroic, I'm sure, but
it doesn't alter the fact...

that your stowaway is
a common safecracker.

Sir, Mr. Kuryakin is at hazard
attempting to save this ship...

which includes your valuable cargo
and your far-from-priceless skin.

One more word of criticism from
you and you will sent down there...

..to join him, sir.

Well done. Well
done, sir. Well done.

Mr. Kuryakin, I thank
you, sir. We all thank you.

Right.

As to that other trifling matter,
it was a mistake, was it not?

You and I know that grave
accusations are frequently mistakes.

So it was a mistake.

Now, if you will be so kind as to remove
these accoutrements and accompany me.

I still don't know your
history, Mr. Kuryakin.

Possibly, I never will. But
that's of no consequence.

My instinctive judgment
has been vindicated.

You are, without doubt,
several cuts above the average.

You're too kind.

Kind?

I have never been
accused of that before.

Humph.

You have spirit, sir, a
quality long since rooted out...

from amongst the lost and
frightened souls that make up my crew.

You have thus earned far more
than the right to cringe in shelter.

Mr. Kuryakin.

You are to be my first mate.

- Oh, captain, I'm not the man, I have...
- It is settled.

Aye, aye, sir.

Mm, don't you anticipate
and relish the exercise...

of naked power
over the entire world?

What would I do with power?

Flood one city,
you've flooded them all.

Mm.

But wouldn't you be
just a little disappointed...

if we can't give a city or two
your tidal-wave treatment?

Uh-uh.

I mean, if the world just
tamely submits and pays off?

Not really. I'm a simple man.

We've still got some
time left before we go.

- Mm-hm.
- Let's not waste it now. No questions.

Don't you even wanna know
where we're going, hmm?

Well, I gave your people a list of
geophysically suitable locations.

- I'm sure they've selected one.
- Mm-hm.

That's right.

Which island?

- I can't tell you.
- Oh.

No, not for anything in this
world or on this divan, Mr. Solo.

Professor Powers, I presume.

Should I say that I knew that you knew,
and you knew that I knew that you knew...

or would that sound like
somebody playing a nose flute?

Hmm, the next most significant
music you're going to hear, Mr. Solo...

is from a harp.

It's almost 10:00. Time
to open the sealed orders.

When next you seek
admission, knock.

I demand to be present
when you open those orders.

- Demand?
- And he should not be present.

Captain, your illusions about
this man are almost pathological.

- Mr. Kuryakin.
- Yes, sir.

Be kind enough to
throw this fellow out...

against the skull-crackingest
bulkhead you can find.

That won't be necessary.

You'll regret this.

They, whoever they are, charter my ship,
then they think they own me. Blast them.

Never a voyage without one of
their whey-faced lackeys aboard...

and so-called extra officers.

But I don't knuckle down to them,
Mr. Kuryakin, and neither should you.

Nevertheless, it, uh, is time for
you to open your sealed orders.

Ah. Yeah.

"Steer due east.

When you reach 14 degrees
north and 113 degrees east...

anchor off the first island in your
path. Deliver cargo ashore in longboat.

Use utmost caution."

Simple enough.

Some of the routes
they've given me...

are like going through
Hampton Court Maze.

Tell the helmsman.

Oh-ho-ho, no, sir.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, what's that? A
pawnbroker's credit card?

No, sir. It's a law enforcement
agency. U.N.C.L.E.

- Law enforcement?
- Yes, sir. You see...

I see, Mr. Kuryakin.
Indeed, I see.

Did you or did not
attempt to rob that safe?

- Oh, yes, I did. But let me tell you why.
- A spy.

That unsuckled pig of a
passenger is right. You're a spy.

Yes, but let me tell
you about your cargo.

- I treat you as a son.
- Captain Morton.

I offered you my inheritance,
my very command.

Fraud! Ingrate! Traitor!

- Traitor!
- Captain, you're being used by Thrush.

- Smoke?
- No, thanks.

Anything I can bring you?

You're taking a big enough
chance just coming to see me.

You took a chance for us,
plugging the steam leaks.

You're a big man, Mr. Kuryakin.

Do you think I'm big
enough to lead you?

- Do you mean it?
- Try me.

- You'll do as I say.
- You'll not order me about.

- I'm not one of your sea slaves, captain.
- You don't understand.

That lad's in irons, I ken that fine.
And I want him released, you ken that.

- MacPherson, don't push me too far.
- And I say the same thing to you.

What will you do, sabotage the
engine until you get your own way?

You know I cannot do that, ever.

No.

You're a fortunate man.

You have something to believe
in, to love, despite its imperfections.

Be secure in that belief, don't meddle
in matters beyond your comprehension.

Mutiny. That's the plan.

I'm not gonna beat about
the bush or ask for a vote.

You've been pushed around long enough and
hard enough to know what it's all about.

There's only one way to stop
the pushing and that's mutiny.

Yeah. Yeah. Mutiny, yeah.

Mutiny according to the plan.

You do your part and
I'll take care of Morton.

- He's not to be harmed.
- We're with you, captain.

Cool it, Hank. I'm not your
captain. I never could be.

Only two things
I want out of this:

Access to the hold, and this
ship headed back for Hong Kong.

You've got it. Rights boys?

We'll need weapons.

Captain don't allow no guns
on board, didn't you know that?

Got one for you
too. Right, Happy?

Man your stations.

Come on. Come on.
Let's go. Come on, boys.

Come on, let's go. Come on.

Uh, the boiler needs tending.

Baby will have to
wait for its feed, Scotty.

Mutiny. I can smell mutiny and
it's a noisome stench always.

Scotty.

No good will come out of it. Believe
me. No good ever comes of violence.

- I've seen this kind of thing and it's...
- Necessary.

Violence is never
necessary and always evil.

Aw, come on. What the use?

Scotty's an old
cheek-turner from way back.

- Just stay out the way, pops.
- No, wait.

Scotty's entitled to an
explanation, and so are you.

This ship is carrying a
special kind of machine.

And a lot of innocent people are gonna
get more than their feet wet if it's used.

And these people mean to use it.

If it's the machine you want, go for
that. Smash it to bits. I'll go with you.

You wouldn't get closer to it than a
temperance worker to Captain Morton.

Two of those men are
guarding it in the hold.

We have to take
the ship, Scotty.

That will force them out into the
open and leave the machine unguarded.

There's no other way.

You've done well. Here's a
little something for your trouble.

Now, one more thing, I want
you to go down to the hold...

tell my two men to meet me up
at the wheelhouse, immediately.

- Do you understand?
- Sure.

Get behind the stack.

Soon as Kuryakin takes care of
the old man, we rush the bridge.

I'm taking over, captain.
You're under arrest.

What...?

I beg your pardon?

- You are arresting me?
- Oh, it's traditional in a mutiny.

Mutiny? Are you out
of your mind? Mutiny?

My dear daring Mr. Kuryakin,
don't you know that you can hang?

Could be.

Whatever the case, I'm going
to have to lock you in here.

Mr. Kurya...

Rescue!

Go.

It's those two jokers from below.
They must have been tipped off.

All right. You keep them busy, I'm
gonna make a run for that machine.

Plane down!

Plane down off the port bow!

Blast them. They can't
hear me with their mutiny.

Cease firing! Airplane
down off port bow!

Didn't you hear what I...?

Didn't you hear what I
said? I said, hard aport.

Get out, you old
fool. You're through.

- Give me that wheel.
- Get out!

There may be survivors.
They have to be picked up.

I'm warning you.

Sir, I happen to be
captain of this ship...

Plane down. Plane down.

What you do to me, sir,
is of no consequence.

But I beg of you, code
of the sea and so forth...

change course,
search for survivors.

I beg of you, Mr. Kuryakin.

Well, give the
order. It's your ship.

Hard aport!

Well, you heard what
your captain said.

I thought...

I thought, perhaps, maybe I'd
indulge in a wee bit of violence.

I hope you didn't
mind the noise.

- It was music to our ears, Scotty.
- Thank you, sir.

So happy to have had the
opportunity, sir, of picking you up.

- Thank you.
- And as for you, Mr. Kuryakin...

should you ever decide to make a
life on the ocean deep for yourself...

I will most certainly get
in touch with you, captain.

Get a haircut.

Oh, this is Mr. Waverly
of the U.N.C.L.E.

This is Captain Morton
of the O.C.E.A.N.

- Delighted to meet you, sir.
- An honor, Mr. Waverly.

Were there any other survivors?

I'm afraid not. We've
just called off the search.

Oh, I have something
for you, gentlemen.

What is this?

New suits. You both
seem to be in need of one.

We keep their
measurements on file.

These Hong Kong tailors
are extremely adept.

Splendid organization,
U.N.C.L.E.

Reminds me of the Royal Navy.

Oh, would you care
to work for us, captain?

Oh.

I fear me my references
are not of the best.

- You see, I... WAVERLY:
Oh, that's all been set right.

The Lords of the Admiralty, at my
suggestion, have reviewed your case.

The verdict has been set aside.

You are now officially
Captain Rupert Oliver Morton...

Royal Navy, retired.

- With full back pay?
- And pension rights?

The young.
Mercenary, aren't they?

Well, now, sir, how
about that job with us?

I'm deeply grateful,
Mr. Waverly.

Thank you.

Well...

I seem to have developed
a sentimental attachment...

to this dirty British coaster.

Ha-ha-ha. Sentimental me.

That calls for a celebration.