Original subtitles

On the 18th.

In February 1906, the steamboat Martinez was struck

in San Francisco Bay by a ship of unknown origin.

One of the survivors is the writer Humphrey van

Beiden, who is being taken aboard by a runaway seal catcher.

It's the ghost.

Her captain Wolf Larsen, nicknamed Sea Wolf because

of his hardness, keeps the rescued short hand on

board because he lost a man, and assigns him to

combustion service.

Both have been subjected to a chain of humiliations,

in which the Schiffskoch Magritch stands out in particular.

Cruelty and violence reign everywhere on the

ghostly ship, which is simultaneously ruled by its

captain with cruelty and violence.

But this captain has another side.

He reads.

Between his books, they both find an old-fashioned dictionary.

And now it's dawn to him.

Now he understands.

He knows this man.

They were 16 and friends.

But while he, Humphrey van Beiden, came from a

wealthy home, from an intact world, Wolf Larsens was

home to the slums of San Francisco.

With unprecedented diligence, the boy who had never

attended school learned from an old dictionary.

He wants to come upstairs.

He wants to prove his poverty with bacon.

There is no doubt about that.

The Captain of the Ghost is that boy from the slums of

San Francisco.

But while both of them remember him now, there's no

sign of recognition in each other's eyes.

So they both hesitate to touch the past.

You'll be like two strangers meeting for the first

time on board.

And something else is clear to both of us.

A man like this captain, for whom life is but a process

of chewing between birth and death, who has no faith

and no hope in the immortality of the soul, and to whom

nature at the same time has bestowed such a

superhuman power, is like a raging animal a constant danger.

After one night the steward vanishes without a

trace, salmon briefly transports the burnt-out

young herdsman, who has no nautical knowledge, to

the steward.

And grazing is good.

With the help of old Luis, he manages to master some

basic nautical concepts.

And in the end, he feels secretly proud and wins favor

by lifting and sinking the ship, making its way

through the tropical sea to the small island to the

northwest, where the cisterns are to be filled.

The sea begins to cast a spell on him.

As the Gust is anchored, three crewmen, Leech,

Jonsson and the Kanake Uffdi Uffdi, seize the

opportunity to escape the ruthless fist of the captain.

And pasture joins them at the last second.

Larsen detects the escape in time and smashes a

rudder so they can't move on.

When a shepherd tries to swim to the shore, a shark

approaches him and Uffdi Uffdi, the canake who wants

to come to his aid, loses his life.

The only thing that the creature's desperate

struggle unleashes on the inhuman captain is cold curiosity.

Then Larsen sends off a goose and has the escaped ones

picked up.

Late in the afternoon, the ghost lights the anchor

and moves on.

The ghost had set course for the Bering Sea rugging grounds.

The devil was on the ship.

Larsen seemed obsessed with an insatiable rage.

Wolf Larsen just needed to show up on deck, and then it started.

That was a greeting from Uffdi Uffdi du Atti, you murderer!

Be careful, I'll catch you!

You'll see, Wolf Larsen!

Watch out, you'll see!

You cowardly pig!

You son of a bitch!

Watch out, man, keep the ship on course or I'll teach you!

You son of a bitch!

I think that's when Larsen sensed exactly how Leech

was climbing down the walls to take the next blow.

But he acted like he wasn't involved, like he had

nothing to do with the whole thing.

What do you want with this?

Let the thing hit!

If Larsen had shown a shake now, he would have become unbelievable.

But he remained completely motionless.

Are you out of your mind?

Let go of me!

Give me the rifle!

You fool!

How many times have I told you not to put the

ammunition in your dressing boxes?

Your things are sticky.

The powder gets wet and the ammunition becomes useless.

So, what's this?

With useless ammunition, you can't shoot shrapnel.

How many times do you want me to tell you?

The silence on board spoke a clear language.

The sailors recorded a success for Larsen.

The unrest caused by the death of Uffdi Uffdi seemed

to be suppressed.

The monster Larsen had once again won a game.

May I ask you a question?

Why don't you kill Leech?

You're not usually so restrained, sir.

Why should I have fun?

Besides, I'm doing him a favor.

We're both players, him and me.

He'll have to beg.

In the resistance, he feels like a king.

He has a goal, a task that fully fulfills him.

I'm wishing to kill myself and hoping one day he'll

make it.

Really humpy.

He leads a royal life.

You're playing a mean game, Larsen.

You are a sadist.

They are far superior in intelligence and power.

You could crush his brain like you crush a potato in

your hand.

But I know you enjoy it when it fades.

Enjoy the play you're staging.

He's probably lower than the two of us.

You or me?

You're constantly making compromises with your conscience.

If you really had mom in you, you'd join Leech and

Johnson and kill me.

But you're scared.

They want to live.

You don't dare to risk anything, as much as you want to live.

They're afraid it might go wrong.

And you wouldn't kill me, but I would kill you.

I'm the coward, you're the coward.

Then you stand there and you're flat.

And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to

me more than my duty to do what he advised me.

To do something in common with Leech and Johnson to

get rid of him.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

It must have been a good deed to rid the world of this monster.

I knew I had a lot of work to do before I could even get

close to Larsen's physical abilities, if I could

ever do that.

The next seven or eight days, nothing special happened.

Some kind of ceasefire seemed to prevail on the ship.

We must have reached the route of the Trans-Pacific.

Lord of the fold.

Lord of the fold.

Can you tell me how far we're from the coast?

And which way is Yokohama?

Of course, I understood what Leech's question meant.

They were trying to escape.

It's five hundred miles.

West, north, west.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

500 miles in a small boat over the open sea.

Did you manage to do that?

The next morning, I looked at the boats.

One was missing.

The man who brought Larsen the news of Leechs and

Johnson's disappearance printed around as if he

could make the news tastier if he taught it to him in

small portions.

And the water jars and the boxes of food from all the

other boats are gone.

And the latex and the seaweed of Leech and Johnson are

gone too.

Set all sails!

Every skin we have!

Let's go, Larsen.

You want me to cut your legs?

A man in the lookout!

A man in the lookout!

West-northwest course.

West-northwest course.

The wind was favorable, though unstable.

Larsen, however, pulled everything out of the ghost

to cut the two off to the Japanese coast.

When he thought he had achieved that, he crossed back

and forth in the conviction that one day he would run

into her.

I thought you might as well have been looking for a

needle in a haystack.

But on the morning of the third day, the voice of the

top guest actually came out.

The boat!

Control panel ahead!

There they are!

There they are!

Catch the big sails!

Catch the big sails!

Of course, seal it up!

Big sails up!

Larsen and Louis forward!

Get on the blueberry fire!

It's the control panel!

It's the control panel!

Hold the barrel!

What Lich and Jonson were expecting was just too

clear to me.

At the very least, he'd beat them ruthlessly

together, and no one on board would touch a finger for them.

I don't know what motivated me, but I can assure you I

was determined at that moment.

What's more, I was prepared.

I already had dry ammunition.

Sure, there's five men on the boat!

I can see it!

It's five!

No, that couldn't have been Lich and Johnson.

When I got back on deck, I looked around.

No one had noticed my absence.

No doubt it was a woman.

We were very excited to see her.

Except for Wolf Larsen, who was obviously

disappointed that he didn't have his own boat ahead

of him.

To us, she seemed to be a being from another world.

A little unbelievable, not really.

Don't worry, I'll pull you up.

That's the way it is.

It's like this.

I'll hold them.

And now you.

Come on, hurry up!

Mr.

Van Weyden, would you like to take the lady down and

make her comfortable?

Set up the free deck cabin.

Or let the brave do it.

And see what you can do for the face.

It was pretty badly burned.

What's the matter?

What happened?

Oh, a ship.

What kind of ship?

Come with me.

When did that happen?

Yesterday afternoon.

Well, you're damn lucky we caught you by now.

I'm sorry about that.

You're a ship.

You really shouldn't bother.

I'll be all right.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

You know, it was like, we thought we'd see land any minute.

We'll be there before nightfall.

Or do you not believe?

Your confidence scared me.

How am I supposed to explain to her the situation and

the strange man who, like fate, walked across the sea?

It took me months to understand all that.

With another captain, I'd say you'll be in Yokohama tomorrow.

This captain is a strange man.

You must be prepared for anything.

You know what I mean?

It's all right.

No, I don't understand what you're saying.

Isn't it like trying to help shipwrecked people as

best you can?

The country is so close.

Is it too much to ask to bring us a country?

No, I don't think he did.

But I don't want you to be disappointed if it doesn't happen.

You know, this captain is a, well, no one knows in

advance what this man's gonna think next, what he's

gonna do.

Yeah, I got it.

Get the cage fixed, Merridge.

And clean up a little.

Are we far from Leach and Johnson?

We're Leach and Johnson.

All the men were on deck because they knew something

was gonna happen if Leach and Johnson were brought on board.

You wouldn't have reached the country, that's for sure.

Well, who knows?

Bring the boys, the two of them.

And if you're still this tough, in the next hour, no

such nutshell can hold on to you.

It's a good thing we're picking you up now.

Three holders, the fourth was a machinist, but we'll

at least get you out there to be a boat washer.

And what about the young lady?

What's her name again?

I don't know.

I don't know.

She's sleeping, she was very tired.

What kind of ship was it?

A mail steamer.

City of Tokyo.

From Frisco to Yokohama.

Got out of the glue in the typhoon.

Leaked like a sieve.

It's an ancient box.

Driven around for two days.

And you don't know who or what she is?

Girl, wife or widow?

That's good.

If you want.

Do I want something?

What are you doing with Leach and Jonson?

Oh, my God.

Really, Hamp, I don't know.

As you can see, with the people we've taken aboard

before, we're complete with our crew.

Leach and Johnson are completely superfluous now.

I'm sure that was your last attempt to escape.

Take them aboard and treat them properly.

They've been driven to do it.

Through you, Mrs.

Lamp.

Through me?

Yes, through you.

And just to let you know that I'm hanging on to this

life, I could very quickly forget if you should go too

far in your revenge on these two unfortunate guys.

My desire to kill you could then become stronger than

my fear of you.

Mrs.

Lamp, I'm really honored by you.

They're evolving.

Do you believe in promises?

Yes, of course I do.

We're making a pact.

If I promise not to touch Leach and Johnson, promise

not to try to kill me.

Oh, I'm not afraid of you, not that.

What's the deal?

Yeah, that's good.

In all this wilderness, there was no other refuge for

Leach and Johnson except the Ghost.

Johnson was an excellent sailor.

I didn't want to leave, did I?

After an hour and a half, he was almost side by side

with us, thinking of reaching us at the next throat.

That's a good one.

Drinking water day and night, that'll kill you.

I expected him to order a turn.

What do you think?

Can you survive the weather, this coming?

No, Captain, I did not.

That's what I'm saying.

Apparently, Larsen intended to play with you.

Instead of beating them, as I assumed, to teach them a lesson.

Take another good look.

Shouldn't I go to another castle, sir?

The team is completely understood.

We don't want to bust you.

But you're standing around!

Let's get to work!

Get out of here!

What about your promise?

I haven't thought for a moment about taking them on board.

Whatever happened, you're going to have to admit

that I didn't touch you.

Yes, on the contrary, on the contrary.

Do you see that?

You don't have time to wait for something like this.

You still have a lot to learn.

But it will be.

Here's a piece of bread.

If this keeps going on, the raccoon benches will one

day be empty.

Oh, you're getting rich again and again.

Where are you supposed to come from?

What about Kerfurt?

Oh, please.

Could you please have a seat, Mrs.

Lamproster?

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

Even Wolf Larsen didn't say a word at first.

Not that he was embarrassed, far away.

He was curious.

He studied them, his eyes barely let go of their face,

of the movements of their hands and shoulders.

When are we in Yokohama?

In four months.

Maybe in three, if the hunting season is over early.

But I think it's just a day's drive from here.

What do you say?

What do you say?

That it would be bad if you were in a hurry.

But since, as you said, you're only making this trip

for health reasons, I can assure you that there's no

better place to recover than aboard the Ghosts.

Mr van Weyden is an authority in this area.

Not that he could brag about it right now, but he's

recovered beautifully.

You should have seen him when he got on board.

A more pathetic specimen of the human species could

hardly have been found.

What, Calfood?

But look at him now.

He's not what a man could be, but he's got muscle.

You couldn't say that about him when he got on board.

And for that, he learned to stand on his own two feet.

Maybe I've learned to stand on my own.

But I don't use that ability to step on other people's feet.

Sir Lassen.

I ask you not to let Mr Van Weyden tell you stories.

You'll have noticed, Miss Brewster, that he's

wearing a knife on his belt.

Something, something unusual for a naval officer.

Mr van Weyden is very characteristic, but how can I

say that he is a little quarrelsome?

He's not going to deny that he wanted my collar yesterday.

And look at him now.

Even in your presence, he can barely control himself.

Perhaps it's unusual to move around in the company of ladies.

I'm going to have to arm myself before I can go on deck

with him.

It was bad, bad.

I just got a little bold.

Well, we'd do that again.

You have to be really scared.

Go on, now.

What the hell's going on?

Yeah, maybe a passing ship can take me aboard.

There are no passing ships.

From other horn punchers.

I don't have anything else to wear.

I'm just not used to such a life as you and your men lead.

The sooner you get used to it, the better.

I'll give you cloth, needle and thread.

And I hope you'll be able to sew some clothes yourself.

I suppose you, like Mr Van Weyden, are accustomed to

letting others do everything for themselves.

Well, I hope you don't lose a stone from the crown if

you have to do something for yourself.

I don't mean to offend you.

Believe me, you eat, so you have to work.

These men here on the ship shoot robes for a living.

That's why I'm driving this scooter.

And Mr.

Van Weyden at least now earns his bread by helping me.

And what are you doing?

Do you feed yourself or live off others?

Yeah, that's not so wrong.

For most of my life, I've been pretty useless.

I've been living differently from work.

Do you know what they do in the United States with the arm-suckers?

Don't people like you deserve what they need?

No, I have no idea.

What do you do with people like me?

They're locked up.

Don't you blame yourself for earning what you need?

It's called treason.

If I were Mr Van Weyden, who is constantly concerned

with the question of what is right and what is wrong, I

would ask you what right you have if you do nothing to

defend your life.

But since you are not Mr Van Weyden, I do not need to

answer you.

Have you ever made a dollar from your own work?

Why wouldn't he?

You made money from your own work?

Right now, I make about $1,800 a year.

$1,800?

That's 150 a month.

And a full broaster.

As long as you're on the ghost, consider yourself

employed with the same salary.

I didn't even ask you what kind of job you have.

What kind of tools and materials do you need?

Paper and ink.

Or a typewriter.

And you are Maud Brewster?

That's my name.

I told you that.

You are Maud Brewster, daughter of Henry Brewster.

You're an editor at your father's publishing house.

That's right.

How do you know that?

It's very simple.

I have a letter from you.

It wasn't written with the machine, it was written by

your hand.

In this letter, let me know that my work on SKN Po does

not deserve to be published in your publisher.

Yeah, that's right.

Because then the Atlantic publisher accepted you

and released you.

And with success.

Just have a little chat.

Don't worry about me.

I'm no use here.

Tell me, how do you get on this ship?

As you can imagine, it's probably not voluntary.

You're such a piece of shit.

The frustration that Wolf Larsen felt because Maud

Brewster and I had overlooked him in our

conversation at the table somehow had to take a

breath away.

And Thomas Magritch was supposed to be the scapegoat.

Larsen didn't have to look long for an excuse.

Just like the chef's smelly shirt starts his commute

with dirt.

The dirt and the things he was dealing with seemed to

literally attract all the dirt around them.

I warned you, cook.

Nothing's going to help you now.

Now you get your medicine.

Sir, this is me.

Hey, Harrison, get some men and a duck.

Let's get our little chef started.

There could be no greater pleasure in giving people

than to give them a thought sheet.

Because what he had given them to eat and drink was

just disgusting.

They wanted to take them down, but Magritch felt only

a slight inclination to be submerged.

That's the size of the shaft.

Come on over here.

The frog you once set us up with.

That was a visit to the Fisherman's Wage Fund, if

you're so right.

The water.

Otherwise, we can see how you cook again.

I'm looking forward to dinner.

Be careful, you bitch.

Where are you going?

You pigs!

Be careful, it won't go on!

You pigs!

You pigs!

It was a pitiful sight.

Even if he could not drown and was as tough as a cat, he

suffered the torments of a drowning person.

What are you happy about?

You should ask Captain Larsen.

Then I saw the shadow coming close under the surface

of the water to the cook.

A shark was after him, one of the dangerous greyhounds.

But it wasn't until the last second, when they

started holding the cook out of the water, that he

packed up.

And high!

Let's get out of here!

Why don't you pull it?

Mr.

Van Weyden, would you like to get an artery press, please?

Oh, my God!

It's a man's game.

It's a little rougher than you're used to, but it's a

man's game anyway.

The shark wasn't on the bill.

Let go, you dog!

Like I said, the shark wasn't on the bill.

It was, shall we say, divine providence.

Mr.

Van Weyden, what are you doing?

Yeah, what's up?

You know, I don't think what happened was an accident.

I just spoke to a sailor, Mr.

Skets.

He told me the day we were caught, when I was in the

cabin, two people drowned.

They drowned her.

This is murder.

Yeah, that's right, they were both murdered.

And you admitted that?

I wasn't able to stop it.

But you tried to stop it.

So you didn't.

And why didn't you?

Don't forget, this is a world of its own.

You still don't know the laws here.

They have come on board with excellent concepts of

humanity and morality, of human dignity.

But you'll soon know that none of this applies.

I couldn't believe it at first.

What advice would you give me?

What do you want me to do to kill him?

With a rifle, ax or knife?

Please don't say that.

Should I kill myself?

I think your job would be, there's such a thing as

civic courage, you know what I mean.

Okay, so I'm not supposed to kill him, I'm not

supposed to kill myself, I'm supposed to be killed by

him, aren't you?

Civilian courage means suicide in a completely

immoral world.

Leech, one of the two murdered, was an

extraordinarily brave guy and so was the other.

Not only didn't it use him, it even destroyed them.

And it would be the same for me if I had the courage I have.

If I can give you some advice, you'll soon see that I'm right.

And what am I supposed to do?

Forget the concepts of morality and morality.

Don't provoke this man's anger.

Be nice to him.

Talk to him quietly.

Arguing about literature and art.

You will see that he is an attentive listener and very intelligent.

Anyway, you're not relying on what's right for you so far.

I beg you, believe me.

All human knowledge and experience are worthless here.

Mr.

Van Weyden, you wanted to take care of the cooks.

I knew the cook was asleep in his cage.

Because I only gave him a good dose of morphine half an

hour ago.

And Larsen knew that, too.

He complains and is restless.

So I was rightly sent away with evidence.

One of the most powerful impressions of my life is the

events on the Ghost over the next 40 hours.

For the sake of understanding, I must say that we have

been in the robbery grounds for days without

encountering the huge herds of robbers that were expected.

The lake was empty.

The atmosphere on board was at zero.

You can smoke.

Which way?

Straighten up!

Maybe a Russian.

Certainly not a Russian.

Not a Russian cruiser.

Can only be a Russian.

Maybe a Japanese.

Who's to shut up?

I'm perfectly sure.

It's not a cruiser.

But I'd like to bet 5 to 1 that it's Macedonia.

The thought that it was Macedonia heightened our tension.

Because the hunters thought it would forgive

scarring with the steam.

All right, all right.

But what do we have to worry about Macedonia, Captain?

- What do you mean?

That you'd come aboard and slit our throats?

- Yes, you did.

Something like that.

These fox hunters are so strange to me that I'm

actually prepared for anything.

You're only wrong if you don't expect worse.

What could be worse than getting your throat cut?

If one of the wallets gets cut off.

Humanity today is organized in such a way that man's

viability is determined by his wallet.

Whoever steals my purse has nothing to do with me.

Whoever steals my purse is stealing my right to live.

Despite all the nice words.

For whoever steals my money steals my bread, my

flesh, my bed.

And that puts my life at risk.

But why would the steamer be targeting your money?

Just drop it off.

You'll see.

The ship is deploying the boats!

The Macedonians had discovered a herd of locusts

long before we could see them.

And while we had to cruise against the wind, she was

able to take a direct course toward the herd.

The Macedonian was the one who had been grinding the

robbery grounds for days before the Ghost and would

continue grinding.

The ghost didn't stand a chance against the steamer.

The development of technology hit Larsen.

I was able to resist the harmful thought killer, his

best time was over.

The current prices of fur on the London market are approximate.

What we could have caught this afternoon if the

Macedonian hadn't gotten away with it, the ghost

spent about $1,500.

And you're saying that so quietly?

I'm not so calm.

I could kill the man, kill him smoothly without blinking.

You must be happy with your dream of good and beautiful.

In all people.

You too have a desire for good.

Dreams and versions.

But you're probably better off with your dreams.

You were a shepherd of pasture?

What do you think?

Nice weather, fresh breeze, straight from the west.

A view of the steep wind.

Well, that's what Louis says.

Signs of fog?

Yes, I did, sir.

In front of Kim.

North and northwest.

And what's new from Macedonia?

She can't be seen.

That's very good.

What are you up to?

Let that be my concern.

All we need is fog.

It's foggy.

Let's see what happens now.

It was remarkable that you brought your bullet boxes.

Bullet boxes were not used in the lobster hunt.

Because if a raft was fired at a great distance with

the box, it inevitably sank before the boat could

catch it.

Stay in the chest.

You're protected here.

And from here you can observe everything.

Mr.

Van Weyden, please come over here.

We have ammunition!

By the way, I can tell you what I'm going to do.

I want to give the Macedonian a dose of her own medicine.

I'd like to make it easier for you to catch.

And not just for one day, but for the rest of the

fishing season.

When we get fog.

Yeah, and if you don't?

Don't make it up.

We just have to be lucky or we're broke.

Half an hour later, we slipped into a fog bank.

The hen is looking for her chickens, which she will

marvel at.

Mr.

Van Weyden, have the sail set.

But no noise, you know?

No rocking of blocks.

Don't yell at me.

I still didn't understand what he was up to.

Clear to sail to the traps, but quiet to the cover.

Work quietly.

I'm sure it's on the pointers.

Four the foxfall.

Four is the fall of the globe.

Let's go to the precinct.

Four robberies and a war case.

Take care of the fork.

Let me take him to the yacht.

Let's pack up then.

Mind you, the case is jammed.

Joe, give me the mouse, please.

Hey, Penny, what's going on?

Give it to me.

Go ahead to the combo and get me a pot of coffee.

I have to go down.

I want to see Makrych.

He was a worthwhile, treacherous guy, that ship's cook.

But I couldn't help myself.

I felt sorry for him.

If there was an accident, it hit him first.

He seemed to be a kind of magnet for dirt and misfortune.

Have a drink.

You know, with an artificial foot, you're doing

great in the combo.

You're not missing anything.

They're doing fabulous things right now.

On the contrary, such a normal foot is a real filth.

I don't know for sure what you're saying, Lord of Shepherds.

But I know one thing.

I won't have a minute's rest until this hellhound

lies dead at my feet.

I'll catch him someday.

Then I will take revenge.

- What's that?

I'll be right back.

That was one of the Macedonian robbery boats.

Hey, get on board with a chatter.

Talking means as much to sealers as visiting, having fun.

It symbolizes the whining of seafarers and is a

pleasant interruption of the uniform life on these ships.

It's full of brewster.

Would you be so kind as to stay on deck first?

People don't bite.

It wasn't until later that I realized why Larsen was

so intent on getting Mod Brewster involved.

The sight of a woman on board should appease people's distrust.

And he reached his point.

Call them on board.

Come on, get on with it.

It's full of brewster.

Would you please stay here, and you too, Mr Van Weyden?

Welcome to the ship.

We're from Macedonia.

May I have you in my cabin?

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

You wait here, I'll be right back.

All right, all right.

Well, my boy, now we do.

He simply beat the man together to humiliate him and

the people who had come with him.

From the Macedonians, there was nothing but their

nebula sirens.

She showed how far away they were from her.

How far away from any way to find help.

You can see what hospitality means here, that it's

not worth anything.

Do you realize that I'm not even trying to change

things according to my ideas?

Yeah, I got it.

Get your boat on deck!

Your hunter has decided to stay on board for a while.

And I don't want it crushed on the board wall.

Come on, get the boat on deck!

Well, we might be together for a while.

And it's best if we get along as soon as possible.

Give it a rest!

Boat across the dashboard!

It's the Macedonians!

Get across the dashboard!

Well, we'd have all the chickens together.

That's all the Macedonians have.

Get down, get your heads in!

Get off the show, move!

Full in the chest, please go to your cabin.

You won't find anything horrifying down there,

except a man who's securely attached to the ring bolt.

Would you like to go to your cabin, please?

It's possible that bullets are flying aboard.

You see, Mr Van Weyden, you want to take over the Red.

Get a cock on board!

That's right!

There is no story!

Don't be such a fool, people!

Get a cock on board!

Otherwise, there's a double alcohol ration.

In this way the Macedonians had no more rafting boats

and had to stop catching.

At least for this year's actual time.

Mr.

Van Weyden, now you can have the boats collected.

And when people are on board, don't mess with the whiskey.

I'd like to bet you're collecting the boats.

And that you'll be on our side until the last man tomorrow.

Don't you think they'll run away at the first

opportunity, like Leech and the rest of us?

Not as long as our old hunters have a word to say.

For every fur the new hunters shoot, I give my people a

dollar as a reward.

We continued sailing through the fog, with no view

and no lights.

Listen to the grazing.

Why was he thrown from heaven to hell?

I'm referring to Lucifer.

Why was he condemned because he was less brave than

God, less proud, less ambitious?

No, I'm not.

I'm sure you haven't.

God was stronger.

The thunder gave him greater power.

But Lucifer was a free spirit.

Servants were strangled for him.

He preferred all suffering to freedom, to the

well-being of a comfortable life.

Serving God was not enough for him.

He didn't want to serve anyone.

He wasn't a galley figure.

He could stand on his own feet.

Milton says freedom is finally here.

Here the Almighty has not built the tents of his

boredom, and he will not drive us out.

Our lordship is safe here and rules as you please.

It's worth the ambition, even in hell.

I'd rather be a ruler than a celestial servant.

You are Lucifer.

Without a conscious reason, following only a

mysterious inspiration, I lay completely clothed

in the Curia.

For a while, I listened to the noise in the middle deck

and in the back, but my sleep on the ghost had become

healthy and natural.

And soon the singing and shouting died.

My eyes closed and my consciousness sank into the

half-death of sleep.

I don't know what woke me up.

Why don't you let her do something?

They graze.

Weiden, where are you?

I got it.

What's the matter with you guys?

Help me get a chair.

I am a sick man.

A very sick man.

We had no idea what had happened to him.

Is there anything I can do for you?

I am a sick man.

A very sick man.

Hump, take me to my Curia.

Take me to my Curia.

It'll be over soon.

I think it's the fucking headaches.

I've seen it coming before.

I have a feeling.

No, I'm not.

I don't even know what to say.

Take me to my Curia.

I am a sick man.

A very sick man.

He's completely helpless.

Probably the first time in his life.

Something must have happened before I was even there.

The wound's only superficial.

Didn't you see what happened?

No, I don't know, either.

It's a mystery to me, too.

All of a sudden, he let go of me and nodded.

What are we gonna do now?

Is there anything I can do for you?

Hold on a second.

I'll be right back.

Get in the Curia and sleep.

Now the ship was completely on its own.

It was a ride.

Is there anything I can do for you?

No, I'm not.

No, that's good.

Leave me alone, please.

See you in the morning.

Come with me.

Will you trust me with a 600-mile voyage?

Does that mean you.

- Yes, you did.

Exactly what you're thinking.

It's the only way, the boat.

Because of me?

Would you dare to do that for me?

You'd still be safe on board, wouldn't you?

No, I'm not.

He's going to want revenge on me.

The storage room was under the cabin.

I chose mostly canned foods.

He also provided me with basins, handcuffs, oil

tools, hats, and the like.

It wasn't a small thing to rely on a small boat on the

Red Sea.

And it was absolutely necessary to protect

ourselves from cold and damp.

There's a light on your left.

He's gone now.

The light in the bull's eye was the last thing we saw

from the ghost.

The compass showed that we were on the exact course

that led us to the coast of Japan.

In spite of the handcuffs, my fingers were cold and

sticking from holding the steering wheel.

Good morning, Lord of the Folds.

- Good morning to you.

What do you think?

Can you see land yet?

No, but we're approaching him at six miles an hour.

Really not so much?

That's 144 miles a day anyway.

And how far do we have to go?

In that direction is Siberia, but about 600 miles

west is Japan.

If the wind keeps blowing like this, maybe we can do it

in five days.

Our romance was of its own kind and so easily not

comparable to any other.

But I don't think other people have ever come close.

Because we hardly had the opportunity to talk about

our feelings for each other.

You're completely frozen.

Look at you trembling.

And I lie here warm and safe all the time.

I don't know what that would do for us if you were frozen.

On your orders, Ken.

But now we're trapped.

I'll be done with the little sail.

Yes, you mean?

Don't worry about it.

My father is a great sailor.

I used to go out with him a lot.

And I got a lot out of it.

Well, we'll see.

Yeah, I really do.

I'm not showing you anything.

I'd be careful.

How strong are the boat planks?

Three-quarters of an inch.

Well, you see, with only three-quarters of an inch

between you and the deep sea, you stop being reckless.

And now you're finally laying down.

I'll take the wheel now, my time.

When I can't, I'll just wake you up.

All right, let's give it a shot.

I plunged into a gentle sleepiness and contentment.

I didn't realize the weather was so bad.

I slept for seven hours.

And she'd been driving for seven hours straight.

I will.

What are you doing?

You tried to wake me up.

But you can't say I didn't stick around.

That's it.

Lie down, please.

Hurry up!

About noon the next day, we passed through an area

that was populated by small, completely cold islands.

We also spotted a vaporizer on the horizon.

He was too far away to notice us.

For a short time we lived in the hope of being in the

area of some coast.

But soon we realized that we were alone with each

other and the endless lake.

It is unnecessary to describe all the suffering we

have had to endure during the many days that we have

been swept back and forth across the ocean in the tiny boat.

And in doing so, we were driven further and further northeast.

Continuing further away from the Japanese coast and

toward the desolate Bering Sea.

On the morning of the fourth day, the storm was over.

Oh, that blessed sun.

We lived on like bugs and worms, that he was recalled

from a first night of frost.

Yes, we smiled again.

The lake had failed to cope with the murder of

Brewster and Hamfrid van Weyden.

We seemed invincible.

At first, I thought I couldn't trust my eyes.

It was murder.

- What's the matter with you?

It's land.

Japan, can't that be?

No, of course not.

I have no idea what this is.

It's probably an island.

At least land for us.

There's a lot of mud on the coast.

It's fucking sharp, isn't it?

But somewhere we can get through the rocks.

We must be quick and not give up.

Mr van Weyden, I thank you for everything you have

done for me.

At that moment, my consciousness was extinguished.

I'm just missing a few hours so I can only guess what happened.

It was murder.

It was murder.

It was murder.

It was murder.

It was murder.

It was murder.

It was murder.

When I opened my eyes, it was night.

I hesitated to return to the world, to its solitude,

to its darkness.

It wasn't until after a while that I realized I wasn't alone.

Don't be too hard on yourself.

You're probably saying we're in the same boat again.

Well, that's partly true.

Let's leave the boat alone.

We're sitting together on Jackson Island.

And it's just the two of us.

It's like a mother's soul alone.

What about the ghost?

Well, you can't always be lucky, Hand.

The Macedonians caught us and changed us.

Everything was pretty drunk with us on the boat.

Captain Jensen didn't have much trouble with the people.

The whole Ghost crew was for him.

He offered them more.

And how did you get here?

That's all right, Hump.

They just brought me ashore a few nautical miles west

of here.

And wish me all the best.

Well, at least.

A plate of beans and bacon is enough for both of us.

Also for a cup or two of coffee.

The guys left me a rifle, too.

And I found another one in her boat.

And some ammunition for that.

I got it.

So we're well equipped.

Now we can make it, Hump.

If we stick together, we can make it.

On the other side of the island is a weather station.

It's a long way off.

The area is called the land of the little branches.

We've been on our feet for 12 days now.

The weakness of the last time I saw him aboard the

Ghost was all I could remember.

He didn't say a word about it either.

It's not like Mort Brewster.

I suspect that beyond her death, he recounted the

defeat she had prepared for him.

Well, you're finally here.

You can never move.

Her spine is flaccid like a boiled mark.

A sharp pain shot through my ankle.

I had my foot stuck.

Larsen, what are you doing?

Larsen, what are you doing?

Larsen, what are you doing?

Damn it, why don't you wait?

I can't read anymore!

He just kept going and didn't even turn around.

I was able to determine the direction of the sky,

although very inaccurate, using the time, date, and

position of the sun.

I took the watch from Larssen's cabin.

She was my only orientation now.

It would have been awful if she'd stayed still.

I believe that my unrestrained hatred of Larsen was

an essential part of the force that kept me on my feet.

All I knew was that there was an area on the southern

coast called the land of the little branches.

And that there should be a weather station there.

I had completely forgotten that the magazine in the

box was empty and that Larsen had taken our last cartridges.

We only had six rounds of ammunition together.

Six times we would have been able to shoot wild, so we

could get food.

Six times we could have extended our lives.

But he had it arranged so that all six cartridges were

in his luggage.

By leaving me behind, he doubled his chances of surviving.

The hunger began to hurt a lot.

There was plenty of game.

The table was covered, but it remained unreachable

for me.

I knew exactly that moss had no nutritional value.

But I still bought it with a spirit of hope that was

greater than all knowledge, and the devil cared

about all practical experience.

There were a total of 16 firewoods.

As soon as I had taken care of them, I suddenly

overcame a panic.

I packed them all up and counted them again.

It was still 16.

For some time now, I had noticed a wolf running around

and following me.

As soon as I left a warehouse, he came up.

There was nothing scary about him.

He seemed scary.

As I watched it fly away, I felt a burning hatred for

the bird as if it had done something to me.

The wolf didn't let me out of his sight.

Although he still looked very miserable, he was

apparently ill or injured and could no longer catch prey.

Just like I was, he was hungry.

He joked about my weakness and waited patiently for

his hour.

In every little puddle I looked for frogs and worms

with my hands.

Finally, I discovered a lonely fish in a bucket.

I tried to stay calm and cool, even though my heart was

beating and my hands were shaking.

I was warming up with a big sip of hot water, creating

the illusion that I had something in my stomach.

The ceilings were wet and sticky.

The pain in my ankle was jamming.

But I was just thinking about one thing: I was hungry.

It wasn't my footsteps, it was my pain.

When I was on the force, I saw it right away.

It had to be Larsens horses.

Only life was a torment.

The death had no spikes.

Death was just sleep.

It meant stop, rest, point, peace.

Why in the world wouldn't I want to die?

Sometimes I would lie down for hours and keep

crawling as soon as I felt the will to live.

As an individual, I no longer fought at all.

It was the life within me that pushed me forward.

I didn't suffer any more either.

My nerves were numb and numb.

In the course of the day, I came to a place where

disgraced bones told me that the wolves had killed an animal.

It was most likely a reindeer calf that had been

circling a few hours ago cheerfully and extremely alive.

Somewhere behind the distant gray hills to the south

lay the land of the little branches.

Somewhere there was endless food.

Somewhere there must have been the station that

Larsen told me about.

On the 18th.

In February 1906, the steamboat Martinez was struck

in San Francisco Bay by a ship of unknown origin.

One of the survivors is the writer Humphrey Van

Byden, who is being taken aboard by a runaway seal catcher.

It's the ghost.

Her captain Wolf Larsen, nicknamed Sea Wolf because

of his hardness, keeps the rescued shorthand on

board because he lost a man, and assigns him to

combustion service.

Byden has been subjected to a series of

humiliations, particularly the shipwreck of Mugbridge.

Cruelty and violence reign everywhere on the

ghostly ship, which is simultaneously ruled by its

captain with cruelty and violence.

But this captain has another side.

He reads.

Among his books, Byden finds an old-fashioned dictionary.

And now it's dawn to him.

Now he understands.

He knows this man.

They were 16 and friends.

But while he, Humphrey Van Byden, came from a wealthy

household, from an intact world, Wolf Larsens was at

home in the slums of San Francisco.

With unprecedented diligence, the boy who had never

attended school learned from an old dictionary.

He wants to come upstairs.

He wants to prove his poverty with bacon.

There is no doubt about that.

The Captain of the Ghost is that boy from the slums of

San Francisco.

But while Byden remembers him now, there's no sign of

recognition in the other's eyes.

That's how Byden hesitates to touch the past.

You'll be like two strangers meeting for the first

time on board.

And something else will become clear to Byden.

A man like this captain, for whom life is but a

fermentation process between birth and death, who

has no faith and no hope for the immortality of the

soul, and to whom nature at the same time has given

such a superhuman power, is like a raging animal, a

constant danger.

After one night the steward vanished without a

trace, Larsen briefly promoted the burned young boy

Byden, who has no nautical knowledge, to stewardship.

And Byden is doing well.

With the help of old Louis, he manages to master some

basic nautical concepts.

In the end, he even gains favors by lifting and

sinking the ship.

The sea begins to cast a spell on him.

A new and difficult situation arises when

shipwrecks are admitted, including a woman, Maud

Brewster, the daughter of a well-known publisher.

Now there's an open conflict between Byden and Wolf Larsen.

Something surprising is showing up.

Without really being hurt, Larsen suddenly

collapses, breaks down, and drags himself to his cage.

This man, whose strength seems to be

insurmountable, wears, so at least it gives the

impression of some disease in itself.

That same night, Byden and Maud Brewster leave the ship.

After days, they discover a strange coast.

Maud Brewster's attempt to make landfall with a

sharp edge costs her life.

Byden can save himself.

When he wakes up from his exhaustion, he finds

himself facing Wolf Larsen.

The Ghost's crew has muttered and disembarked their

brutal captain, equipped with some supplies and equipment.

But there is no trace of his suffering.

Wolf Larsen's strength is unbroken.

At least that's what it looks like.

The fates of the Byden, once friends, long bitter

enemies, seem to be disastrously linked.

For days, they wandered the barren mountain and

tundra island together.

Their target is the land of the little branches, an

area on the southern coast.

There's supposed to be a weather station there.

When Byden gets his foot stuck, Larsen just goes on

and leaves the helpless behind.

He doesn't even turn around anymore.

On top of all that, he's taking the last cartridges,

the only way to shoot wild, so he's getting food.

Shortly, without a second's hesitation, Wolf

Larsen exploits Bydens weakness and delivers it to

starvation to improve his own chances of survival.

The hatred of this ruthless man is part of the force

that keeps Byden on his feet.

He keeps dragging himself, often close to collapse,

always on the lookout for something to eat.

Sometimes the greed becomes so strong that he digs

with his hands and nails for frogs and worms.

And a lonely fish drives him half crazy.

Somewhere behind the distant gray ridges must have

been the station that Larsen had told me about.

Somewhere there was endless food.

I've had a wolf around me for days.

Apparently, he was ill or injured and couldn't catch

any more game.

Like me, he was hungry.

He joked about my weakness and waited patiently for

his hour.

We were a strange team, a sick man and a sick wolf.

When I woke up in the morning and opened my eyes, he

immediately raised his head and started me.

The clearer I understood that nature's

ruthlessness was to make me a prey to a fallen

creature, the more foolish it seemed to me to die

after having endured so much.

I just felt that fate demanded too much of me.

It was pure madness, of course, but I decided to catch

the wolf myself.

He looked more embarrassed and guilty than

dangerous, more like a pathetic, ruthless dog.

But even his harmless blinking couldn't fool me.

He waited for me to die.

His patience was shocking.

For almost half a day, I had to lie still before he came.

He could only fight weakly, but I didn't have much

strength either.

I pressed my face close to his throat and grabbed my

teeth and got to his carotid artery.

And then I felt a huge warm feeling in my mouth.

It wasn't pleasant.

It was like I spilled molten lead in my stomach.

Thanks to some strange element, I was always able to

find a new line of will that pushed me a little further.

But basically, I was more likely to be at the stage of

development of a germ that would curve and twist and

twist without its own will, because life itself

ordered it to wind, twist and twist.

The fact that I had reached the coast of the south

coast no longer entered my consciousness.

Three hours later, I was in a cage at the Bedford

Electoral College, which included the cutter and

the people who found me.

Approximately half a year after the events

described, the Bedford anchored in San Francisco Bay.

Even long after my mind was completely intact, I

hated every person I saw eating.

I was plagued by fear of starvation.

But that's gone too.

There was only one left.

I couldn't do anything else with the protected world

I grew up in.

He who looks death in the eye and forces him to look

down quickly forgets him.

Curiosity, curiosity, uncertainty, and the

pursuit of wonder began to shape my life.

The sea had caught me and never let me go again.

The planks under my feet belonged to me and to the

entire ship up to the top of the mast.

The Kitty Way carried cargo to the plantations of the

thousand islands between Papete and the little

coral sea.

The unstinting existence of a South Sea was bound,

had struck me in its spell.

The smell of reefs.

The endless life of the coral under the white mirror

of the lagoon.

The colors of the sunrise, which spread lawlessly

across the sky.

The palms limited themselves to islands scattered

in the floating lake.

The regular ups and downs of foam-crowned waves.

The swinging deck under my feet, the rigged sail

above me.

It's been six years, almost six years, since the

events on the Ghost.

Wolf Larsen thought you were dead.

That was a big mistake.

But I don't want to prejudge the events and begin with

the hour when Neum began to move in my face.

On the 23rd .

In September, I spoke in the Tahu Bay outside the port

of Goboto.

I'm renting the port to avoid the salty port fees of

the French administration.

In Goboto, the traders land, the planters come from

far, wild coasts.

In Goboto, you get your mail, you pay your bills, and

you can read newspapers that are rarely more than

five weeks old.

- Good morning to you.

- Good morning to you.

Good morning to you, Lawina.

Oh, my God.

It's Lawina.

You're saving the port fees again, aren't you?

Peter G.

He told me you were lying outside.

Wait, I'll get your mail right away.

Is that from yesterday or this morning?

It was yesterday.

He's such a young guy.

I had no idea that the young man at the counter would

bring a series of disastrous events.

Listen to me, mister, listen to me.

I'd have something.

For three dollars, you can have them.

It's a smooth gift.

You see, it's simple.

Loads and stretches on its own.

And then all I have to do is draw a line.

Eight times I can shoot without charging.

See, that's the fuse here.

The best part.

It's very reliable.

It's the purest child's game.

You see how reliable it is.

Would you mind directing the course elsewhere?

That's for sure.

I took out the magazine.

It's not loaded right now, you understand?

A gun is always loaded.

They don't.

Take them off anyway.

I'll find out with you that it's not loaded.

I'll show them.

Hold on a second.

Let me see.

I pulled the trigger.

Your case is not entirely hopeless, young man.

You look like you're still alive.

So let the drinking be.

My word, my word.

No more drops, never again.

I'll buy you that thing.

So you can't mess around with it anymore.

Do you agree with me?

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

What the hell was going on?

It's all right.

What about the shot?

It's all right.

It's all right, man.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

So I'll see you later.

A bottle of gin lavina.

Once it's the cheapest, it'll take longer.

Don't be ashamed of yourself.

There, you see.

It's 20 bucks.

Twenty bucks for the lavina.

At least I won't give you anything else.

I felt like I had to go back and tie the boy up.

But then I preferred to take care of my own affairs.

In the days that followed, I had quite often the

strange sight of Aloysius Pengburn.

And so did everyone else in the small island capital.

Be a good boy, go up now.

Go to bed and get some sleep.

Oh, please.

Stop it!

Stop it!

Stop it!

Stop it!

Aren't you ashamed?

Can't you see the boy is sick?

He moved away cheerfully.

And behind him most of the guests, who were barely

sober than he was.

You see it, Humphrey.

He sighs to death.

Can't you do something for him?

It's something.

And what am I supposed to do for him?

He had a lot of money.

But he's got a grudge because he drinks.

It's still his father's decision.

And now he can't touch his money.

That's very reasonable.

Humphrey, someone really should take care of him.

Why don't you get him on your ship?

You're going to kill him.

He's trying to hire people everywhere.

No one's taking him.

Oh, please.

That's what was missing.

The Kitty Wake as a drinking cure facility.

About two hours later, he was back.

Totally drunk, but in a good mood.

He's a crazy guy.

You want me to show you what he was trying to tell me?

How's it going?

In Atala.

Areia Otala and Cara Pinkberg.

Shama saw.

Tama, Tataousa saw it.

It was a Jena head trophy of the Polynesian cultural

space, which, unlike the South American ones, is

prepared in its natural size.

He assured me it would be a rarity.

Any museum would give him £100 for it.

But unfortunately, there is no museum here in Koboto.

And he'd need the whiskey right away.

No doubt about it, it was Thomas Mann.

Thomas Magritch, the ship's cook I last saw aboard

the Ghost six years ago.

You'd think I was pretty unprepared for this encounter.

This is Thomas Magritch.

You know who this is.

Made from scrap and scrap.

God hates you.

Tortured and tormented.

He said that about himself.

You've become very pale.

Where'd he get it?

I don't know.

I don't know.

What room?

The big one, the one out the back.

- Yes, thank you very much.

What was I doing?

I was looking for a connection that didn't exist,

couldn't exist.

Wolf Larsen was dead.

At least that's what I meant.

Hey, wake up!

The head.

This trophy.

The head.

Where'd you get these?

The head.

Yeah, tell me where you got that, the head.

I'm telling you, this thing is real.

I get them in every museum.

And if Wolf Larsen was, in all likelihood, alive back

then, how would the grotesque remnants of the ship's

hull show the way to him?

This is ridiculous.

This one's real.

Look at this.

What's that?

What am I gonna do with it?

Give him to Father Swallow.

He's got a place for himself in the cemetery.

One thing was for sure.

The scattered memory of that time was suddenly released.

My hatred of this formidable captain was as fresh as

in the first hour.

But whether Larsen was alive or long dead, he

appeared everywhere in my lifetime.

There was no denying that without Wolf Larsen I would

not have been aboard this ship on this shore of the

little coral sea that day and hour.

At first, I wasn't sure if the sound came from an

amphibian or a human.

Now I hardly doubted anyone had sneaked aboard.

Maybe I should dispute that it was about 24 hours

after what happened at Lawina's and we were still in

front of Goboto.

I don't have a penny anymore, so I had to swim here.

Although, I'm not drunk, I'm not freezing, but

Lawina gave me only two glasses today.

I'm about to overturn and nothing else.

I'm starting to see ghosts.

When I didn't find the wheel, I thought I was out of it.

Well, take it first.

And now you shoot.

That's all right, mister.

But first, I swear to you, by all that's left of my

honor, I'm sober.

Don't get drunk on the trail.

I'll make it short.

I know you're a businessman.

A man of fact, you're healthy.

I'm sure they've never had alcohol added to them before.

They're not done yet.

You've never been to the hell I sleep in.

Listen, I think you're a little off topic.

I've lost my parents, I was born in Australia and went

to college in New York and Yale.

I studied philosophy and it didn't help.

It's alcohol.

I've been in sports, scuba diving, I've got some

amateur records.

I swim like a fish.

It's not that easy for anyone to do anything to me.

Believe what I say.

But I still have another record.

I've swallowed more whiskey in my life than any other

person of my age.

To get you something to drink, I could easily steal a penny.

You're still not on the subject.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

Listen to me, mister, if you will.

Oh, that's good.

I just wanted to tell you where I got the head trophy.

Let's get out of here.

Where did you get it?

Maybe you did something.

You told Lavina to bury the thing.

No, she did.

Now I'm out of your hair.

It cost me 200 pounds.

Yeah, I lost 200 pounds now.

But at 20, I'd be satisfied.

So listen, this is fucking cheap.

You can't get any cheaper now.

So, now you get another glass and then I'll let you

roam ashore.

All right, ten pounds.

Not a penny.

But I'll make you another suggestion.

Lavina told me you wanted to hire and no one wants to

take you on board.

I'd take you.

You want to take me?

Under one condition.

No more drops of it.

This is, listen, this is, this is fucking hard, Mr.

Van Beiden.

It's either that or not.

You work as a sailor.

It's hard work.

You'll be on your watch regularly.

And what else to do is on board.

But you eat and you sleep.

Oh, come with us.

And in return, you tell me where you got the trophy.

You know, this is, this is blackmail.

Drink the last one.

It was blackmail.

More beautiful, so, this thing, this head trophy.

It's from Swithin Hall's Island.

Isle of Swithin Hall?

- Yes, you did.

Why don't you stop telling stories?

Yes, you did.

For years, the whole South Sea has been searching for

Swithin Hall Island.

And you want to tell me you've been there?

No, that's not what I said.

I bought the trophy in papet from a pearl diver.

He says he went fishing on the island for this Swithin

Hall pearl.

Then there's been trouble and he's upset.

And it struck me as if Larson was alive.

That infamous Swithin Hall, whom hardly anyone

knew, and Wolf Larson, were the same person.

Karlsson, Mr Karlsson, please have the ship ready to leave.

Make the ship clear to exit.

As soon as it was light, we sailed.

An hour later, we were on the high seas.

Are you ready with the other sail?

There's the flag!

Get away from me!

Get away from me!

Look at the coffee!

Get away from me!

Get away from me!

On the flip side, I'd like to mention that Penckburn

was quite reasonable.

He did his job on board like everyone else, even when

it was not always easy.

But that's another story that I might tell you later.

These days, all I was obsessed with was the thought of

paying him back everything that I and others had

suffered from Larson.

Do you really want to keep this course?

- Yes, you did.

Karlsson was my tax man and my constantly concerned counselor.

After all, you're an adult.

You have to know what you're doing.

That's what you're supposed to think.

You think you're going to find this fucking island?

Maybe they don't exist at all.

Maybe it's just a fixed idea.

One of those romantic, silly South Sea marines.

Well, then there's no such thing as Swithin Hall.

So what's it like?

- What do you mean?

Well, at least Baoti tells him he knows him.

Baoti described her, didn't he?

The island of Swithin Hall.

You know Baoti.

He talks a lot when the day is long.

And the nights count twice as much on him.

It is possible.

You think he invented the windmill, too?

The windmill that's supposed to be on the slope above

Swithin Hall's bungalow?

And that's supposed to power the entire plant there?

That doesn't sound like a silly South Sea whisper.

That sounds real, very prosaic.

It's not something you tell fairy tales.

Don't you think so?

The only bad thing is that Baoti couldn't tell

lengths or latitudes.

He just said it's a long way from the Gilbert Islands.

That's all he knew.

Yeah, that's right.

Carlson was right about his skepticism.

It is true that in those days the South Sea was a

gathering place for the adventurous existence of a

Swithin's Hall, but also for stories captured from

the air.

Truth and unbridled imagination were often indistinguishable.

For twenty-four days, we spent over abandoned

depths without seeing a trace of land.

It was the 12th.

January.

If we hadn't found Swithin Hall's Island, we would at

least have had to run into Loy-Loy Atoll, which was

right on our course.

Shit, why wouldn't they come from?

Did he always write that exactly in one point?

The Loy-Loy atoll has disappeared, Lord of Weeds.

If we can still rely on our art of navigation, the

island must have sunk into the sea.

And we've been sailed over them twice.

Or at least about where she should be.

Or the chronometer's going wrong.

Or I don't understand navigation any more.

Does it have to be the chronometer?

Again and again, I checked our calculations and came

back to the same result each time.

We were on the right track.

That must be the chronometer.

There's something wrong with that thing.

For four days and four nights the sky was covered with

clouds, so we could not make position observations.

Then we got into bad weather.

Lord of Shepherds!

Close the hatch, you idiots!

You can see the weather.

You're starting to do stupid things again?

I don't even know what you have against the weather.

I think it's wonderful.

This is something else.

That's what I've always wanted.

It puts you in good shape.

Now I could take a sip.

You're not getting a drop, my boy.

The worst is over, stay out of it.

Around noon the clouds and the sun rose famously.

The observation showed 2 degrees 15 minutes of

southern latitude.

The degree of longitude could not be determined

because of the damaging chronometer.

In the afternoon, when the lake had calmed down quite

a bit, Albright saw a moving boat.

Far and wide there was no ship to be seen.

The lake was empty all the way to the bottom.

There's got to be something on it.

We'd better keep it on board.

Twenty minutes later, we had the boat on board.

What a flea catcher is doing in this area is really

draining me.

Well, what about treasure hunters?

I can imagine the treasure hunter.

Don't you think?

Treasure hunters?

What are you gonna do?

I'd still be a coastguard.

The Coast Guard is way too far away.

Yeah, what's that?

No doubt it was lost to a ship named Ghost.

Of course, that proved nothing.

'Cause there must be a whole bunch of ships with that name.

What's with the thing?

No, I'm not.

Leave it in the bakery.

Yeah, that's all right.

And finally, Wolf Larsen had lost his shoe at the time.

In the baking party zone!

But I was obsessed with the idea of being able to tell

myself I did it.

With my own hands, I managed to bring Wolf Larsen to

the line.

There's really nothing in this part of the sea.

Not an island for a thousand miles.

Not even a reef to set up our chronometer.

The only thing we can do is...

Landing!

Two stripes on the backboard!

Landing!

Right over there!

Tops of coconut palms.

Some cool guy.

It's such an island.

Oh, you are, Pengberg.

No, sir, I did not.

What could that be?

The levy is clear.

It's been a long time.

But there's nothing here.

That's what I've seen.

Well, what did I say?

I know what you're thinking now.

That there's a bungalow over there and there's a

windmill on the slope above the bungalow.

Yes, that's right.

That's what I really thought.

Then this would be Swithin Hall's Island.

Drop the anchor!

Anchor is blown!

Just like Otis described, right?

It smells like sloppy shellfish here.

Don't you smell that?

- Yes, you did.

The pearl muscles.

It's a funny place, isn't it?

Hey, you know what?

I'll take a look back at this whole thing.

Yeah, that's good.

Put that down.

The thought connection with Wolf Larsen was

formally established.

The selection of books could have come from him.

Then, when I picked up a book, the cold residue of a

cigar fell off the shelf.

The rest of one of those thin cigars that had been so

typical of him.

Should all this really be merely a collection of

random and meaningless clues?

I found him in a dump at the back of the house.

He took a nap.

I'm assuming there's a cook.

What did you find?

A sleeping princess.

Oh, yeah?

There's someone coming.

This is Hall.

What are you doing with my cook?

Did your inn run off?

And you need a new one?

If I had actually expected to see Wolf Larsen come in

back then, I'd never met this man before.

You won't blame me for the question.

How did you find my island?

We're off course.

Hall, please.

Swiss Hall.

I must tell you, you are the first guests I have here.

So this is your mysterious island that the whole

South Sea has been talking about for years.

Well, at least now I know how to reach her.

How did you do that?

You give up the chronometer, watch for a whirlwind

and look for coconut palms in the sea.

Would you be so kind as to tell me how you are?

You know what?

Phil Annesty is here.

On the Kitty Road from the Jillard Islands to New Guinea.

I immediately realized that this man was worthless.

Dangerously vain.

And looking for the lost degree of longitude.

This is my steward, Mr.

Carlson.

A better sailor than I am.

But he can't help himself without a chronometer.

I'm sure my wife would be very happy if you stayed here

for dinner.

You might want to get some fresh air in the meantime.

So I need it anyway.

Worked out all day.

I apologize, but I'm needed on board.

No one needed him on board.

Carlson just pushed himself.

If you don't mind.

He was a guest.

I'd like to welcome you.

I invited Mr.

Annesty to dinner.

He worshipped here.

I hope you feel comfortable here, Mr.

Annesty.

I didn't know myself why I had the wrong name.

I was just following an inspiration.

I don't know, there's something wrong with this island.

But I'll figure it out.

What's this Swithin Hall man supposed to look like?

I don't know.

I don't know.

Anyway, the man in the bungalow has nothing to do with

the books on the shelf.

It has a polished surface.

But underneath it's a rubber band.

Tell me, have you ever heard of Swithin Hall being married?

As far as I know, Utini said something about it.

I don't know if it's supposed to be Swithin Hall.

There's something wrong with this whole thing.

What are you going to do now?

I'll take a look around.

Let's get the ship up and running.

And if you're already there, you can check the plinth.

Let's get everything in order.

And take your time.

The next day, my suspect found new food.

I had landed early and strolled along the beach to the

barracks where the divers lived.

It occurred to me that the Kanaks almost looked like a

troop of convicts sent to work.

Am I bothering you?

Why would you bother me?

The face seemed familiar.

It may have been one of the countless native-born

sailors or divers I've come across over time.

Bagatha's a whore.

I'm out of here.

I'm sorry about that.

I guess I shouldn't have spoken to him.

That's all right.

You know, the guys talk a lot and you work a little.

If you're not strict with them, don't move your finger.

Then you don't even deserve your food.

Yeah, I know that.

They'd rather have a lazy day.

You're all the same.

You think you're in heaven.

You don't understand that you're supposed to be working.

What did you tell him?

I asked him how deep you have to dive.

Was that wrong?

Is that a secret?

No, of course not.

We're currently working in seven depths.

It's out there.

It's right out here.

Not a hundred yards.

If you want to come out with me, please.

I spent half the day with him out by the boats.

Without having succeeded in drawing more than

general rhetoric out of him.

When it got dark, I sent Jackie Jackie ashore.

He was supposed to talk to the divers in secret and

find out what was going on with the island.

He came back just before midnight.

There was a lot Jackie didn't bring.

I don't know anything about it.

I can't hear you.

I'll be there all the time.

It's better to be there.

Pick one of these.

Canake and I can't talk.

It's all right.

I'll be right back.

After all, he had confirmed my impression that the

pearl divers were treated more like forced laborers.

God knows, it's not just about shells.

The guy's as skinny as I am.

A week had passed without me moving on.

We barely knew how to explain our long presence.

So thoroughly, the Kittyrake had already been overhauled.

Carlson, for all intents and purposes, had her

copper floors shaved with coconut shells.

By the way, Pinkburn had to work his shift underwater

like everyone else.

Enough for today, come on.

You're supposed to stop.

You've already got the poison out of your system.

Isn't that better?

Would you like a drink?

Yeah, I would love to.

Here you go.

Look, why don't you just let me ashore?

Maybe I can figure something out.

Except for you, you talkative old man.

Since there was always a guard on the shore, it was

quite difficult to get to shore unnoticed and look

around the island.

But in the early hours of the last day, I caught a

favorable moment.

Then I left the boat and went on a voyage of discovery

with a sharp bush knife.

The underwood sometimes grew so dense that I could

barely see two or three feet away.

I had to make my way with force, and as I advanced, I

kept using my knife to cut off the branches and

slender vegetation, and to kill the tribes with one blow.

Actually, the stems were just weeds and soft to cut

through like sturgeons.

It is difficult to express the peculiar mood of the

original woodland dick.

Wherever the eye is directed, the forest moves

forward, folding its branches together like

fingers, and the listener hears strange, creepy

noises over and over again.

It is futile to say to yourself that you are nothing

but big trees around you, no one who can touch your collar.

But no, you just don't want to believe it.

The jungle is practicing its curse.

It was a sound I'd never heard before.