Original subtitles

Ain't got all day.

Dad, I can't.

Ain't got all day, boy.

- Come on, boy. - Help!

You can do it.

Come on...

let me see you move your arms.

Kick your legs.

You can do it.

Come on!

You're not trying!

Nobody's gonna make it easy for you!

It's up to you!

I used to imagine

that I'd been given to the wrong family at birth

and that somewhere in the world

my real people longed for me.

From where my father stood

my failure to dog-paddle

was only the first of many failures.

Failure to speak clearly.

Failure to sit up straight.

Failure to make friends

every time we moved

to another dreary upstate town.

In me...

my father recognised a failed life...

his own.

When I got admitted to the junior college,

my father figured it was a clerical error.

When I dropped out a year later, he wasn't surprised.

Quoyle! Quoyle!

Job not stimulating enough for you?

No. I mean, yes.

I mean...

this is the best work I've ever had.

I stumbled into adulthood

learning to separate my feelings from my life...

counting on nothing.

I got used to being invisible.

Until... someone noticed me.

I'm sick of this shit!

Where you going, Petal?

Let's go.

Wake up! Go!

What's your name?

Quoyle.

Are you all right?

I'm starving, Quoyle. Aren't you?

I sell burglar alarms.

Really?

That-That must be interesting work.

I'm an ink setter.

I work for the Poughkeepsie News.

You haven't touched your food.

Oh.

So, what do you think?

You want to marry me, don't you?

Huh?

It's 8:05.

I think I'm gonna fuck you by 10:00.

What do you think of that?

Oh, my God.

That was the biggest one yet.

Yeah... I'm always hungry after I get laid.

I guess 'cause I... I burn up so many calories.

You live in a dump, Quoyle.

I love you.

Oh...

I love you.

Nibble, nibble,

little mouse.

What'd the doctor say?

If I end up with stretch marks, sue his ass.

Yeah, but, Petal, Petal, is everything okay?

Petal? Petal?

Petal, you're the only woman I've ever loved.

You're-You're the only one.

Mm-hmm... How do you make an Alabama Slamma?

Where are you, sweetheart?

Alabama, that's the point. Look, look up the recipe.

It's on the fridge where I keep the Mr Boston.

If you come home, I'll make one for you.

Oh, Christ, never mind.

I'll have a vodka.

Oh, oh, it's okay, Bunny, honey.

Oh, I know...

All right, baby.

Has your friend gone?

My "friend."

Oh, shit.

Don't do that! Don't touch me.

Stop doing stuff...

creeping around, cleaning up.

Look...

it's no good.

Find yourself a girlfriend.

I don't want a girlfriend; I want you.

Your funeral.

Listen, you going to be home for dinner?

Don't expect me.

- Bunny's missed you, and... - Hey, Petal.

Hey, Bunny rabbit. Petal's gotta run.

That's so pretty.

Here. So's that.

Thanks.

Beautiful.

Oh, shit!

- Sorry. - That's okay.

Hi, this message is for Daniel Smith

confirming your appointment with Dr Davis today at noon.

Quoyle? This is your father.

Lost your home number.

It's time for your mother and I to put an end to it.

I left instructions with the undertaker... Dayton & Sons.

Told them to notify my sister, Agnis Hamm.

Not much of a life.

Nobody gave me nothing.

Other men would've given up and turned into bums,

but I didn't.

I went without so you could have advantages.

Not that you done anything with them.

What, were they sick or something?

Oh, come on.

They must've left something. What's their house worth?

No, Petal, the bank is taking it.

There's nothing left. There were medical bills and funeral costs and...

It's all gone, honey.

You wanna marry me, don't you?

- I won't have to go to school? - It's an adventure.

Who goes to school when they're on an adventure?

Is Daddy coming?

No. Daddy is boring.

Daddy's boring?

Mm-hmm. That's right. You're a very clever girl.

There's Frank. Come on, he's waitin'.

Hey, big guy!

Goodbye.

Hey, hey, hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa! What about my pay?

What about my pay?

You owe me for three weeks.

Yes, Quoyle.

Q-U-O-Y-L-E.

Quoyle.

She didn't leave me a message or anything... a note somewhere?

Only for you to pay me.

What? Uh, yeah, Bunny.

Bunny. Yes, that's, that's her name.

She's, uh, six years old.

And Petal. Petal, yes...

Agnis Hamm. Half-sister of Guy Quoyle.

I'm your aunt.

This is a really bad time.

So I heard. I'm here to visit his ashes.

No, I mean this is a really, really bad time.

She's never done anything like this.

I mean, she's walked out before, but she's never taken Bunny.

I don't understand.

The potato chips won't do you any good.

- Drink your tea. - Huh?

Tea's a good drink. Keep you going.

Do you think maybe you could stick around for awhile?

Sorry, just passing through.

On my way to Newfoundland, where our people come from.

You ever been there, nephew?

Only I want to say farewell to Guy first,

if you'll tell me where he is.

Oh. Uh, sorry.

He's the one on the left.

Petal, hello! Is that you? Hello?

Mr Quoyle?

Oh. Uh, yes, it is.

This is Investigator Danzig from the New York State Police.

Oh, Jesus, have you found 'em?

- Yes, sir. - Yeah?

Ow! Jesus! God damn it!

Hang on a second. Hello?

- Yes, sir, I'm still here. - Oh, thank God.

- Hello. Can you hear me? - That's not a problem.

Yeah. Uh, how's Bunny?

You know what? I think she's gonna be all right.

Oh, Jesus, good. And, and Petal?

Mr Quoyle, we'll talk about that when we get there.

Uh-huh. You're gonna, you're gonna bring her here?

- Yes, sir. - Okay. And you have the address?

- Yes, we do. - Oh, good.

And Petal?

Relax, sir, we'll be there as soon as we can.

Okay, thank you. Thank you.

They're gonna bring Petal; they're gonna bring Bunny.

They found 'em.

The cop said he's got something to tell me about Petal.

I hope she didn't get in any trouble. She's got such a temper on her.

There's just no telling what she...

The convertible went over a guardrail in Jersey.

Fortunately, your daughter was no longer travelling

with Mrs Quoyle and, uh, and her male companion.

She was mercifully killed on impact,

I can promise you.

Look, uh, there is something else.

Seems she sold your daughter

to a black market adoption outfit for $6,000.

There was even a receipt, if you can imagine.

That's how we tracked her.

Daddy!

- Daddy! - Hi, sweetheart.

Who's that?

That's your Great Aunt Agnis.

Where's Petal?

Mummy!

Mummy?

Maybe I could stay just a day or two.

"Your loved one has not left your heart

"or your thoughts

but is sleeping peacefully."

She's sleeping?

Yes. Peacefully.

In heaven.

With the angels.

If I was asleep, I'd wake up.

Why are you so scared, Daddy?

What do I do?

It takes a year, nephew...

a full turn of the calendar, to get over losing someone.

That's a true sayin'.

The move'll help. You'll see.

What place on Earth could be better than...

the place your people came from?

Smell that clean Northern Sea?

I'm not a water person.

At least the girl is.

I hope we're doing the right thing, Aunt.

I thought I'd never come back here.

But the older you get,

there's an ache, a pull...

something you've got to figure out.

Like you're a piece in a puzzle.

It takes some time to get used to the rock beneath you.

It's a place like no other.

The people who came here came by accident.

Those that stayed learned strange things can happen...

omens and restless spirits...

magic.

We Quoyles, we left it 50 year ago.

Hard times.

We're nearly there. Quoyle Point.

Named after us. You.

Well, I don't understand.

It's May, there's so much snow.

Up here, forget everything you thought you knew about the weather.

I was born in that house.

Empty 44 years...

Look at that roofline.

Straight as a ruler.

Look.

I wonder who that is.

It's your grandfather, Sian Quoyle.

Died before I was born.

Died young... 12 year old.

Twelve?

Then he couldn't have been my grandfather.

You don't know Newfoundlanders.

Who's this?

It's my father and...

and you.

I never did care for that hat.

Oh! My Lord, the table!

The blessed table!

There's no way we can live here.

It's all fixable.

We'll get a carpenter.

Oh, well, it might be cheaper if we just build

a whole new house on the Riviera.

Only I wasn't born on the Riviera.

Daddy?

What?

Why did you wake me up?

I wanted to see if you were asleep.

Are these cables so the house won't blow away?

So far so good.

They say it rocked in storms like a rocking chair.

Made the women sick, so they lashed it down.

They're moaning.

The house is sad.

What?

You should let it loose.

I'm here to apply for a job.

Come on in.

Listen here. Listen here, my son.

I'm going to need clarification on this.

I got Doris Koontz down as runner-up in "cakes and muffins"

but her entry is listed as "strawberry rhubarb cobbler,"

which I believe ought to be under "pies."

Name's Tert Card...

managing editor, rewrite man, and snow shoveler.

You'll have to do without the boss.

Himself, Jack Buggit, has called in sick, as per usual.

Which is why I am occupying his office, Billy Pretty,

and no bones about it.

Come in.

Name?

Uh, Quoyle.

I just got here yesterday from New York...

Ah, you're a Quoyle, are you? Well, I should've seen that right off.

Sit down.

Prior experience as a journalist?

Washington Post? London Times?

Oh, oh, no, I'm not a journalist. I'm an ink setter.

I had that position...

Gammy Bird.

Are you in my office, Tert?

No, no, no, Jack. I'm just conducting a job interview here at my desk.

Job interview?

Yeah, there's a Mr Quoyle here. Says he's an ink setter.

The fella's a Quoyle, you say?

- And no mistake. - Hmm.

Have him meet me at the dock in, uh, one hour.

That bronchitis of yours cleared up already?

Much better. Thanks for your concern.

Okay, Jack.

Quoyle! Over here.

Step lively.

Uh... hello there, Mr Buggit. The man at the...

The name's Jack. Come on, get in.

I'm not a water person.

All Quoyles is water people. Boats is in your blood.

That's why I'm hiring you.

I need somebody to cover the shipping news.

You'll get a list from the harbour master...

what ships go in to Killick-Claw...

But, Mr Buggit, I-I-I'm an ink setter.

Pay attention, me old son.

I don't need no ink setter, I need a reporter.

And you'll do local car wrecks.

Take the picture, write the story.

We run a front-page photo of a car wreck every week,

whether or not we actually have a car wreck.

Now, there's a knack for taking photos that make you feel something.

If there's a dark patch on the ground,

it reads blood whether it's motor oil or Diet Coke.

And you want something human, uh,

a child's mitten, a purse,

a baseball cap lying in the road.

See, that's what makes it human. That's what makes the reader feel.

- Jack, I'm, I'm no reporter. - Jesus sweet Christ.

You think any of them tomcods knew how to write

when I hired them?

I get a feeling about people, that's all.

Welcome home, Guy.

I can't do it.

I mean, even if I knew the first thing about writing, which I don't, I...

- Car crashes... I can't cover those. - Why not?

You know why not.

We face up to the things we're afraid of

because we can't go around them.

Car wrecks are a fact of life up here.

Come winter, a drive into town will be damn near impossible.

We'll buy us a boat.

Look, I already told you, I'm not a water person.

They dragged it here.

What, honey?

The house. They dragged it here.

- You must've had a dream, sweetheart. - Who told you about that?

A long time ago, on Gaze Island,

the old Quoyles couldn't make a go of it there,

so they lashed the house with ropes and they dragged it.

Yeah, they dragged it.

Across the ice, clear to the mainland.

Right here.

This is from the "News of Your Neighbours" column.

"The pole on the corner of Main and West streets

"has a sign on it that says it's illegal to place anything on that pole.

"We see the postman has landed in the clink

"for throwing the mail in Killick-Claw Harbour.

"He said he had too much to deliver

"and the folks could take a dip and help themselves.

Guess it helps if you can swim."

This is professional stuff. How am I supposed to write this?

You can't. You'll get it wrong.

Here now, miss! Don't you talk to your father like that! Course he can do it.

Petal says Dad never gets anything right.

Yeah, well, it'll work out.

Hello. You must be Quoyle.

B. Beaufield Nutbeem.

I head up the foreign news department.

Steals every story off that goddamn short wave.

Which Tert takes the liberty of rewriting

in his own mystical tongue.

Only to save you from charges of plagiarism, Nutbeem.

Uh, Mr Billy Pretty, an old fish dog and local landmark.

Edits the home news page... poems, baby photos, household tips.

There's your desk, Quoyle.

Is there, um, a computer?

Well, do you see one?

No, I just... I see everyone else...

Keen powers of observation.

I can see why Jack snatched you off the job market.

Gammy Bird.

Uh-huh.

Right on to it.

Well, Quoyle, you lead a charmed life.

Two minutes on the job, and you got your first car wreck.

As far as I can tell, the site is really fresh,

about 10, 15 minutes, uh, at the most.

You got two victims... one male, one female.

Not one vital sign between them,

so we're gonna wait till the police come now.

Uh, the rate of speed we estimate at 65, so there's nothing unlawful here.

There's not a whole lot you can do, right,

when a moose decides to get in your way.

That's for sure.

The driver most likely had his chest crushed

before the car hit the water, so at least that's a mercy.

Yeah. Yeah.

Well, there's that, and the moose,

which is a gift really, when you think about it...

out of season like that... a moose that size.

Oh, Lord, yes.

Billy, I suppose we could split it four ways, right?

How much could you fit in the station wagon there?

- I'll take the hind quarter. - I know we're gonna want to use...

some of those recipes from the "Home Page," you know?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

He's new, is he?

New fella.

There you go.

It's wrecks like that that sells papers.

Oh, Jack knows his readers.

Now, mind you, there's more people down under these waters

than are killed on the roads.

You'll want to get yourself a nice little boat before long.

Something that fits the water.

I just don't want to think about a boat right...

Wh-Who's that?

- Why? - Oh, I was just curious.

I've seen her around. She's very tall.

I... I mean she... she's got good posture.

She seems very...

Her stride is different.

It was grief that caused her boy to be not right.

She was carrying him when her husband was drowned at sea.

Like I was saying, there's more life lost that way.

How's your car wreck coming, Quoyle?

If I wanted War and Peace,

I would have hired William bloody Shakespeare.

"The policeman ate breakfast at the Codcake Diner

before he arrived at the accident scene"?

Yes?

Your spelling is fine,

and I've seen plenty worse grammar.

But-But finding the centre of your story...

the beating heart of it... that's what makes a reporter.

Now, you'll have to start by making up some headlines.

You know? Short, punchy, dramatic headlines.

Now, have a look. What do you see? Tell me the headline.

Horizon Fills with Dark Clouds.

Imminent Storm Threatens Village.

But what if no storm comes?

Village Spared from Deadly Storm.

- How was your first day? - What's all this?

Nephew, we can't fix up the house proper

on a journalist's wages, so I've un-retired.

- From what? - Boat upholstery.

All us Quoyles have a feeling for boats.

Who-Who's this?

That's Dennis Buggit, master carpenter.

Ah, only till I gets me lobster licence.

I'm a fisherman in me soul.

Buggit, huh? You wouldn't be related

to my boss down at the Gammy Bird?

Mm-hmm. Yeah. My dad.

Tomorrow I'll run two-by-fours under your second storey.

Oh, and, uh, I was you,

I wouldn't sleep in your upstairs tonight

unless you want to wake up downstairs with a thud.

Yeah.

Yes, boy.

What? What? What is it? What is it?

A ghost. The window.

A skinny ghost, and a white dog.

I-I didn't dream it. Don't say I did.

- I won't, I won't, sweetheart, okay. - There's a ghost there.

Okay, okay, shh, okay. Okay, shh.

Okay.

Okay. Shh.

Oh, excuse me?

- This is our first day at school. - I don't like these kids.

- Bunny. Um, she's in the after-school... - They're boring!

Boring, boring, boring!

Bunny, that's enough.

I'm sorry. She's-She's not usually like this.

Not usually like what?

I hate going to new places where I don't know anybody.

I don't know anybody.

What's wrong with him?

Bunny, that is... There is nothing wrong with him, all right?

This is Herry. When he was being born,

he didn't get enough air to breathe...

and that makes him a little slower than most people.

What's your name?

Bunny.

A bunny rabbit.

- That's what my mother calls me. - Is Mummy at work now?

No, she's asleep with the angels.

I am a bunny rabbit.

Oh, you certainly are.

Boing, boing, boing, boing...

Whi-Which of those women are in charge here?

Neither of them. They're just mums.

Oh, 'cause somebody really ought to be paying more attention to them.

I mean, look at that. There's scissors on the ground.

I mean, somebody really ought to be supervising them, don't you think?

Yeah.

Better get back to work. Supervising and all.

I'm Wavey Prowse.

I run the place.

They are having entirely too much fun, aren't they?

It's a constant problem around here.

Bumbling Dad Humiliated at Day Care.

Quoyle!

C'mon over, Quoyle!

Order's up now. Come and get it.

Aye, sir.

Hey.

Hmm. You've been to the harbourmaster's.

Yeah, boats in, boats out.

Not exactly the stuff of legends.

Sometimes there's a story behind the story.

What can I do you for, then?

Oh, um, I'll have, uh, what-whatever they're having.

- What are you having? - Squid burger. It's good.

All right, then. You want some fries with that?

Okay.

All right, then, be back.

- Have you got yourself a boat yet? - No.

You ought to get Alvin Yark to build you one.

Or you could buy Nutbeem's.

I built a Chinese junk.

Sailed it up from Brazil.

Unfortunately, I missed Manhattan by a mile or two

and got stranded here when I shipwrecked by Gaze Island.

I've almost finished my repairs. I'll be sailing away soon.

She's ugly, and... the only thing I've ever loved.

Eh, your story tugs at me bladder.

Excuse me.

Um, what is it between those two?

You have to understand about the curse.

Jack Buggit's father, his grandfather,

his great-grandfather, all died at sea.

Jack is... sensitive.

Especially about the sea.

"Sensitive."

It's what they call people around here who, um, "know" things.

So, Dennis is forbidden the sea.

But being free,

Newfie and 21, he goes anyway.

- What? And that's enough? - Death storm.

A massive wave cracks her steel hull amidships,

a one-inch crack from starboard to port.

Men go in the water. Dennis is lost.

After about a week,

they come to Jack and tell him the search is to be called off.

Jack stands like a stone.

Then he turns... quick, the way he does... and says...

"He's alive...

and I know where."

So, off he goes, out to sea

on his own, in just a skiff

and finds Dennis.

Can you imagine the odds?

Finds him. Finds him. Both arms broken, 99% dead.

The boy comes to.

And Jack says to him, "If you ever step foot

in a boat again, I'll drown you myself."

And do you know what Dennis said?

- Say it fast. - He said...

"All fishing licences are spoken for.

I'd appreciate it if you gave me yours."

Jack looked in his eyes, and they never spoke again.

Quoyle... you got the "Shipping News" written up yet?

Oh, yes.

There's nothing here.

Boats in, boats out. What else is there?

If I knew, I'd write it myself.

I took a chance on you, Quoyle. Don't let me down.

Go get the aspirin now!

Oh, shut up!

I had as much to drink last night as you did!

Excuse me.

Do I know you?

I'm a... I-I work for the local paper.

I do the-the "Shipping News."

I was just... Is this your boat?

That's a boat. This is a Botterjacht.

She was built for Hitler.

- He was the original owner. - Really?

I-I just wanted to ask you a-a couple of questions.

The finest Botterjacht ever built in Holland.

Tell him what happened in Hurricane Bob.

And she's incredibly heavy. 40 tons of solid oak.

Tell him!

She broke free of her moorings and pounded six boats...

expensive ones... to rubble.

Wham!

Now tell him who let our insurance lapse.

Wham!

Oh, it took six

very expensive lawyers to weasel us out of it.

Jesus! An inch from bankruptcy.

Moral of the story? When you marry a tour guide,

confine his authority to mixing the drinks.

- Did I come at a bad time? - Yeah.

Ten years ago would've been better.

Wife Fires Artillery on Hitler's Boat.

- Hello. - Hi.

- Hi. - You guys need a ride?

Thanks, but, uh, Herry likes to walk.

Oh. Well, it's a nice day for a walk.

Mr Quoyle, about the other day?

I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot.

No, that's, that's all right.

I-I was way off base.

I-I admire anybody that works with kids.

That's the hardest job in the world, you know?

- I'm-I'm a journalist, myself. - Really?

Have you seen our local paper?

Strictly fish wrap.

What?

I'm the new reporter there.

Oy... uh... oh...

No, I'm-I'm sure...

That'll be, uh...

- Good luck to you. - Oh, thank you very much.

- It was nice to see you again. - Nice to see you.

- Bye, Herry. - Bye.

Dennis?

Bunny.

W-What are you doing?

She's boring. Boring.

How was Bunny when you picked her up from day care?

All right. A little snotty.

What's that?

Robert Burns.

Someone gave that to you.

Someone that you're missing.

Six year ago today.

Leukaemia.

We weren't married,

but that's a technicality.

- That your boat? - Yeah, I just bought her.

- One question remains... Why? - Well, she's a speedboat.

It's a shit boat. Wallowing, cockeyed bastard.

- It'll sink in a bathtub. - Makes you cry to look at her.

Just a coffin, boy.

Let me know when you're serious. I'll take you down to see Alvin Yark.

He'll make you up a sweet little rodney.

You don't have the sense God gave a doughnut, do you?

I'm going home.

The best you can do is bury it

some dark night.

What in hell a name's this?

"Hitler's Barge."

Uh, that's, uh, a vessel in port. It goes with the "Shipping News."

So, what about the motorcycle accident?

Oh, I'm still working on that, but I think this is a better story.

What do you mean?

You didn't do the one Jack wanted you to do?

You did one that he don't know you did?

Well, this is worse than your boat.

Jack even sniffs this, he'll cut you up for lobster bait.

I think I'll run it.

...and he crawled off the grass onto a branch, and he made a cocoon,

which is like a house, except it's for a caterpillar...

- Hey, Bunny. - Shh. I'm reading.

He thinks I know how.

Oh, oh... no, no...

Go on, get the pig.

See you tomorrow.

- Oh, bye, Sarah. Bye, Patrick. - Bye.

Hey, can you hold these rods together for me?

You have to hold them flush against each other.

- Okay. - Thanks.

Be careful, honey.

- I want to see if it can fly. - Well, not in the house, sweetheart.

Throw it up in the air, high as you can.

- Okay. - And count till it comes down.

One, two, three, four, five.

Hey. Have you been to flight school?

- Not really. - No? Oh, my.

Aunt?

- Hey, guess what? - Just keep it down.

This is my assistant, Mavis Bangs.

- Oh, hello. - How are you?

Did you read my article on the Hitler boat?

What?

Silver and Bennett Melville were clients of mine.

They pulled anchor last night without paying a penny

for all the work we did for them. The buggers.

Now, you find out where they're to, we'll give you the Pulitzer.

What, you make juju beads out of lobster feelers?

Oh, that's pretty remarkable, missus.

Now, where do you export these? Haiti?

Oh, well... um, I'll tell you what. I'll-I'll, uh, do my best.

I'll try to get you a bit of ink in the next edition, how's that?

Well, you know, these things take some time to work out, you know?

- Card? - Hold on.

If you're going to shanghai me office, Tert, you best conceal the evidence.

- Oh, no, Jack... - Nah.

This, uh, Hitler boat...

You assign it?

Nope, sir. It wasn't my idea.

Get me Quoyle.

Quoyle... he wants you.

- Mr Buggit, it was what you said... - Have a seat.

I got four phone calls last night about the Hitler boat... four.

People enjoyed it. Mrs Buggit liked it.

Of course, you don't know nothing about boats,

but that's entertaining, too.

So, listen here, me old son, I'm giving you a weekly column.

A story about a different boat every week.

Human stuff.

Who owned the boat, who lived and died on her, who drowned,

who was saved, who lost his fortune,

who had his heart broke.

You follow?

Tert!

Jack?

Order this boy a new computer.

And buy him a real one, not one of them Japan clones.

- You got that? - Uh-huh.

Oh, Mr Buggit, I-I-I don't know what to say.

Did I not tell you? My name is Jack.

Jack.

IBM, please.

Get back to your work, Quoyle.

I... B... M.

Lumbering Idiot Stuns Crowd... For a Change.

Herry Prowse!

Look how well your kite is doing.

Are you making it dance with your thoughts?

Your kite is doing so much better than Mr Quoyle's.

Do you think Bunny's strange...

I mean, mentally?

The skinny ghost with the white dog?

She told you about that?

Maybe she's sensitive. The way some folks are around here.

And what about the necklaces?

Do you know how many of those she makes?

And I found her bashing her baby doll's brains out with a hammer.

A baby doll doesn't have brains. It's a toy.

Do you know she's... saving a room for her mother?

- Did she tell you that? - Yeah.

Is she strange, that's all? Is she okay? If-If you had to take a guess.

That little girl's the only friend my son ever had.

So she's strange, you bet.

It crashed!

All right. There you go.

Do you know how he died?

My husband?

It was a calm night when Herold took the boat out.

There was no sign of any storm.

Storms can be sudden around here.

He wasn't the only one whose boat went down.

It was four years ago...

and it's yesterday.

Look how high we're up.

Uh-huh. Beat you to the car.

Did I blow it, or can you still be my friend?

Your friend? Sure.

Is this yours?

The ghost brought it.

Then he ran away.

The skinny ghost with the white dog?

Don't say I dreamt it.

Ah, you're getting the hang of it.

Now, coax her a wee bit to starboard.

Attaboy. You're a Quoyle... There's seawater in your veins.

How are things with your girl?

Oh, Bunny's just still adjusting, I think.

Oh, I was talking about Wavey Prowse.

Sorry... sorry! Whoa!

Jesus! Sorry.

I... Wavey and I are just friends.

Fine. Don't have to drown me over it.

This is where I grew up. That's my poor old father there.

And that's where your house stood.

Before they dragged it across the ice.

Yes, sir. Before they was driven away.

Driven away by what?

You never knew? Ah, well.

It's neither here nor there, right?

The point is, they made a new place for theirselves.

No, by what? Driven away by what?

Oh, that's old stuff, boy.

It's in my blood.

You ought to be able to tell me.

Well, they come to Gaze Island centuries ago, they did.

The old Quoyles was rackers.

They were, they were pirates, sort of like.

You see them cairns?

Fires used to burn in them

to guide the ships at sea like lighthouses.

Now, the Quoyles would move the fires

to fool the ships.

They'd lure them into the rocks so the Quoyles could grab their loot.

Oh, they was a savage lot, the old Quoyles.

Then they went too far one day, they... nailed a man to a tree

and they cut off his nose

to draw the nippers and the flies that-that ate him alive.

And that's when the Quoyles was given their walking papers.

Jesus.

Now, there's still an old Quoyle down in one of these coves somewhere.

They say he slept with his wife after she was dead.

Anything else I should know?

That about covers it.

♪ When the knitting pins you is abreast ♪

♪ Hold the tiller to the west ♪

♪ Behind the pins you must steer ♪

♪ Till the old man's shoe does appear ♪

Pull, pull!

Show me that necklace.

See, if you make the loops bigger, you don't have to make so many.

Okay.

Good morning.

Can I talk to you for a minute?

- Where's that chair from? - Excuse me?

The chair that you're sitting in. Where's it from? Where'd you get it?

It's not from around here, right? It's foreign, it's exotic.

I don't want pirate's loot in this home.

Billy Pretty told me all about it.

It's a good thing somebody finally did.

I don't believe in dwelling in the past.

No? Then what are we doing here?

Making a future.

Well, well, well. If it ain't the second coming of the Quoyles.

Taking a long and hearty meal break, I can't help but noticing.

Hope you've got a good idea for your next story, Quoyle.

I'd hate for Jack to think that it was just beginner's luck.

Let the man digest, Tert.

Mind you, if I was the esteemed author of the "Shipping News" column,

I'd pick up the McGonigle Oil Field story.

Petro-dollars; a golden flood of jobs.

You write a story about that, I'll put it right there on the front page.

Thank you for stopping by, Tert.

Yeah, thanks, Tert.

- Aw, gee. - What was that all about?

Oh, uh, he owns Mobil Oil.

Ten shares.

What about your column?

- What about it? - You said you'd read it to me.

Yeah, I will, once the game is done.

"There's a 1904 photo hung in the Killick-Claw Library.

"Eight schooners heading out to the fishing grounds.

"Their sails are white and beautiful.

"But nowadays you're just as likely to see

"a big black shape of an oil tanker like the ruptured Golden Goose.

"Last week it leaked 14,000 tons of crude

"onto the seabirds, fish and boats at Cape Despot.

"There will be more and more tankers.

"They will get old and corroded, and their tanks will split.

"And there will be less fish, and less fishermen.

Nobody hangs a picture of an oil tanker on their wall, do they?"

What do you think?

I think when Tert Card sees it, he'll stay up nights

thinking of cheap shots to pay you back.

I think he won't stop until you're fired.

I think I haven't been so proud of a friend...

since I don't know when.

Uh, what do you think?

Pretty impressive, huh?

Like I said, nobody hangs one of those.

Well... your column's front page stuff.

Only now it's more a caption, is all.

"More than 3,000 tankers proudly ride the world's seas.

"Even the biggest take advantage

of Newfoundland's deep water ports and refineries."

Spelled it all perfect, so as not to embarrass you.

"Oil and Newfoundland go together like ham and eggs.

And like ham and eggs, they'll nourish us in the coming years."

Even put your name on it.

"Let's all hang a picture of an oil tanker on our wall."

Man of your principles...

I understand the only honourable course is resignation.

And if you're off to see Jack Buggit, you're gonna have to swim.

For I runs the Gammy Bird, every inch of it, which he'd have to do without me.

And if you think he's going to choose you over fishing,

then you're dumber than a doughnut.

If that's possible.

Jack?

For Christ sakes, Quoyle, cut your motor!

All right, what's the emergency?

- Can't it wait till I'm done fishing? - It's about my column.

Card, he printed it not the way I wrote it.

Well, so?

You disapprove how Card runs my newspaper...

enough to lose your job?

Yes or no?

Yes.

So, this is what Jack and I think:

We want to run Quoyle's wrong-headed oil spills story

because controversy sells papers, and papers sells ads.

But the oil tanker picture stays.

You should have seen Tert's face.

- Yeah? - Oh, it was a beautiful thing.

That's all right, I've seen it.

- Oh, it's great. - Mm-hmm.

Let's see what the special is.

How do you feel about ordering to go?

- You ever had that before? - No, what is it?

Seal-flipper pie.

Yeah, it's made from, like, the knuckle part of the flipper.

The slimy cartilage part.

Yeah, it's good, though.

I mean, it's a good choice if you like that sort of thing.

I... You know, I'm really not all that hungry.

I just wanted, you know, to come and sit.

- I had a big lunch today. - Yeah.

They say you're not a real Newfoundlander

till you've had a piece of seal-flipper pie.

- That's what they say? - Yeah, that's right.

Mmm, good. That's surprising.

I never eat it, myself.

You never eat this?

This is horrible.

Here, I got you some real food. Look.

Christ. I knew somebody was out here.

Oh, for Christ's sake.

He's still burning off the fever.

Any feeling yet?

Little tingles.

- You're lucky. - I'm fine.

I'll be ready to get right back in that water

in another 20, 30 years.

Do you know how close you were to dying?

I'll get my uncle, Alvin Yark, to build you a proper boat.

And learn how to use it, okay?

Okay.

Good.

Were the eyes open or closed?

I don't know. Just said it was a disembodied head.

What'd the police have to say about it?

Still working on it. A little late to return the head to its owner, though.

Hello, nephew.

"Mrs Silver Melville was arrested early today

"in Lanai, Hawaii, for the murder of her husband,

"socialite and raconteur, Mr Bayonet Melville.

"'He pushed me once too often, ' Mrs Melville confessed,

"'so I finally pushed back."'

Good for you, my dear.

Well, he probably deserved it.

- Hey. - Hey.

Don't get your hopes up.

You're the first man who ever cooked for me. You got a lot of leeway.

How are they?

They're both asleep in Bunny's bed.

Should we trust them?

I can do this. You just don't think...

- Oh, no. No, I know. Here. - I can't...

Let me do that, all right?

There you go.

- Can you feel that? - Yeah.

Through your bandage?

What?

Your husband, he never...

He never cooked you a meal?

Why are we talking about my husband?

Because I understand.

You said, "It's four years ago and it's yesterday."

I understand that.

My husband's not who we're talking about, right?

I'll go get Herry. He wouldn't like waking up in a strange bed.

- Hey! - Huh?

Who are you?

Huh? Yeah.

I tied magic in these knots to protect you from the house.

No good ever come from the old place. Never, never... never.

You... you have no... business in the Quoyle house.

- I get you out of there. - But I am a Quoyle.

A Quoyle?

I was a Quoyle before you was anything.

Leave the house.

Tell, uh... Agnis hello from...

Cousin Nolan.

You know why Agnis come back?

To show she ain't afraid of the place no more.

'Cause I know what she's done. I know.

She got rid of the baby she was carrying.

What could she do? What? She was only 12.

And it was her own brother that done it to her.

No. No! No! No!

Please! No! No! Please!

- Does that belong to you? - Sorry.

There's still hot water in the kettle, if you want some tea.

I've started looking for a place for me and Bunny.

You sure you're going to be okay at your shop?

I said I would, didn't I?

I think Silver Melville was right to chop her husband's head off.

He probably deserved it.

I think more women should do what she did.

Maybe some should have done it to their own brother...

my father.

Cousin Nolan dropped by last night.

I always thought if anyone knew, I'd be turned to stone.

Shit!

Here.

Tea's a good drink.

It'll keep you going.

When someone hurts you that much, how do you...

Does it ever go away?

Is it possible?

Her name was Irene.

The love of my life.

You look happy.

So, yeah, it is possible.

Agnis tells me we got to move for the winter.

It'll be a three-hour drive from here to the point. All the ice...

Me and Bunny, we're going to have to find a room in town somewhere.

I'll have the usual, please, Annie. Thank you.

Well, if it's a place to stay you need, you can have my trailer.

- Timing's perfect. - What are you talking about?

My boat's ready.

If I stay here any longer, I might begin to like the place.

I'm throwing myself a farewell party on Saturday.

- Departure to follow Sunday. - The rootless traitor.

Regrets soon after, no doubt.

Quoyle of the north!

Quoyle of the north.

Have you and Wavey done the dirty yet?

Shh! She's the grieving widow.

Grieving for Herold Prowse. Oh, that's a good one.

Let me tell you something about old Herold Prowse.

It's like a party game in town...

to look at babies and see if they look like Herold.

Hey. Hey!

Everyone! To Nutbeem!

To Nutbeem!

We all loves our fucking Nutbeem, what?

Lets us keep him here then!

Got your chainsaw, Neddie?

Nutbeem!

Hoh-oh-oh!

What's wrong?

I'm a Quoyle.

I'm one of the Quoyles, pirates and looters and murderers.

My father raped his little sister,

and then he taught me how to swim.

Stop that. Jesus, you smell like a brewery.

Stop it.

Go on, Herry. Go on.

Stop it!

Herry.

Sorry, Herry.

I'm sorry, Petal.

I'm so sorry.

I meant Wavey.

Good. I feel much better.

When were you going to tell me about your fucked-up marriage?

I'm scrambling eggs. Are you gonna be able to eat?

No.

Listen, I'm...

Maybe I should just go.

You forget where the door is?

He ran off to Winnipeg with some little bitch.

She was barely out of high school. Is that fucked up enough for you?

Herold, my husband, he didn't die.

Not that he didn't deserve to.

He left me when I was eight months pregnant... no good to him in bed.

So I took his 15-footer out into the bay,

cracked the hull with a hatchet and sunk her...

and pretended he was drowned...

and played the grieving widow and packed my bags to leave town.

But then a funny thing happened.

All these folk I grew up with, they put their hearts around me and Herry

so we wouldn't be alone.

And I just couldn't leave.

I'm sorry, Wavey.

You're always sorry.

You're looking dishy, Quoyle.

I'm afraid my offer to let you stay in my trailer

will have to be retracted.

Sorry about that.

And your boat.

I'm some disgusted with the human race.

I never would have made it anyway.

Storms would have blown me to bits.

You boys saved my life, I imagine.

I've gathered up my savings, and I'm flying back to Brazil

where the water is swimming-pool green.

You and Bunny can stay with the wife and me.

To Brazil.

Brazil.

- Brazil. - Brazil.

We can stay with Aunt Agnis over at her shop.

Barely enough room there for myself.

You'll like it at Dennis' house, sweetie.

No, I won't.

- Hi, Quoyle. Hi, Bunny. - Welcome, weary travellers.

- Our home's your home. - No, it's not.

- Come on in. - Bunny.

Come on in, sweetie. I made a big seal-flipper pie.

- What's that? - Weather light. Storm coming.

Big one.

The house... the house...

house.

I...

What is it, Quoyle?

What?

It's gone.

- What? - The green house is gone.

I didn't dream it.

Don't say I did.

Yeah? Oh, hi, Mum. Some storm, eh?

What?

Oh.

Yes. Yes, of course.

What's a wake?

It's to say goodbye.

Mr Buggit is sleeping with the angels.

He was a hard man, but he was fair.

Another one for the Buggit curse.

Dennis...

Yeah, I'm still looking for my dad's navy medal.

I found it.

Don't you worry. It's going to be all right.

Thank you.

Mum.

What?

Good.

I found it... in his desk at the office.

Would you write something for the Gammy Bird about Jack?

Yes, I'll try.

Jack is... Jack is all right now.

You all know... we are only passing by.

We walk over these stones a few times.

Our boats... sail for a little while on the waves

and then they have to sink.

Jack knew that better than anyone. Right, Jack?

Yes, boy.

He's awake!

- Jack! Jack! - Get a doctor!

Oh, Jack... oh, Jack.

- Oh, Jack. - No, no.

Come here, son. I beat the curse.

The fishing licence is yours.

Sweetheart, you ready?

I want to have a wake for Petal.

Why didn't we have a wake? Why didn't we wake her up?

It worked for him.

Honey, Mr Buggit wasn't really... It's more like he was in a coma.

From the cold water. It's like he was sleeping.

- Petal was asleep. - No, honey...

You said she was asleep with the angels.

I know what I said, but she's not sleeping.

- You said! You said! - Honey, honey, listen to me.

I know what I said. Listen to me. Listen to me.

I just... I was too scared to tell you the truth.

Petal is dead.

And you know that. I know you know it.

It's okay.

Is it because of me?

- What? - That she drove away.

Well, why would you say that?

Because... Because I'm boring.

No, honey, it's not because of you.

And you are anything but boring.

Come here. You just come here.

Hon...

You believe me, don't you?

You still don't believe me, do you?

About the house.

I told you so.

It's all right.

Worse things have happened to both of us.

Maybe one day we'll build a summerhouse out here.

Summer.

Do they have summer here?

Oh, you'll know it's summer when the partridge berries are out.

And we can make partridge berry duff and sweet berry okie.

- Will you show me how? - I will, yeah.

I will.

There are still so many things I don't know.

If a piece of knotted string can unleash the wind,

and if a drowned man can awaken,

then I believe a broken man can heal.

Deadly Storm Takes House.

Leaves... Excellent View.