All language subtitles for The Man from UNCLE - S01E04 - The Shark Affair.en

In New York City...

on a street in the East Forties,
there's an ordinary tailor shop.

Or is it ordinary?

We entered through the agents' entrance
and we are now in U.N.C.L.E. headquarters.

That's the United Network
Command for Law and Enforcement.

U.N.C.L.E. is an organization
consisting of agents of all nationalities.

It's involved in maintaining political
and legal order anywhere in the world.

My name is Napoleon Solo.

I'm an enforcement
agent in Section Two here.

That's Operations
and Enforcement.

I am Illya Kuryakin. I'm
also an enforcement agent.

Like my friend Napoleon, I go and I
do whatever I am told to by our chief.

Huh? Oh, yes. Alexander Waverly.

Number One in Section One.

In charge of this, our
New York headquarters.

It's from here that I send these
young men on their various missions.

Gone blinkers? The
wireless? You can't mean it.

And the ship's telephone, sir.

- The telephone?
- Yes, sir.

All our communications
systems are dead.

- Lost our radar, sir.
- Done what?

Captain, look.

Full speed astern.
Hard right rudder.

Full speed astern.
Hard right rudder.

- Mr. Maclnernay.
- Make anything out, sir?

There. Look.

Bloody idiots. Lying
to in weather like this.

Well, looks like an old merchant
ship. World War II vintage.

- Stop all engines.
- Stop all engines.

Captain Fowler...

they're firing at us.

That's out of the
question. This isn't 1942.

Ahoy, the Inexorable.

You will heave to and prepare
to receive a boarding party.

Captain Fowler, the masthead.

The Jolly Roger.

Pirates?

Hmm.

Yes, there is much
here to interest us.

Mr. Morgan, we will
avail ourselves of these...

these, these and these.

- Aye, aye, sir.
- Now, captain.

With your permission, I'd like to
have a word with your passengers.

Piracy on the high
seas is still a hanging offense, mister.

Provided the offender can
be brought within the noose.

You've seen how I can disable
your communications equipment.

I can do the same for any
ship that approaches me.

Are these all your passengers?

Well, surely you've
no designs on them.

Prepare them to abandon
ship. Your crew as well.

But you can't mean
we're to take to the lifeboats.

Unless you prefer to stay aboard after
we set this vessel afire and sink her.

- Sink her?
- Hmm.

Now, then. I'm going to ask you only
one question, ladies and gentlemen.

Please consider it
carefully. Answer honestly.

I pledge you my word no harm will come
to anyone who gives me a truthful reply.

Are there any amongst
you who can tune a piano?

He's fainted.

Well, don't stand there,
Mr. Maclnernay. Fetch some brandy.

Um. Yeah. Yeah.

I was just making lunch. Should
I put a couple of plates down?

- Just black coffee, thanks.
- A cup, then.

- Uh, you eat, I hope?
- Yes, ma'am.

You have some splendid
books here, Mrs. Barnman.

My husband, all he
does is read and eat.

A bookworm and a tapeworm
in the same man, ha, ha.

- He's a librarian, isn't he?
- Uh-huh.

Not that it's much of a living.

That's why when this
ad came up, well, we...

That's what we're interested in.

This advertisement
Mr. Barnman answered.

"The executors of a
recently-deceased bibliophile...

desire an experienced
librarian to catalog the collection.

Will qualified applicants please
telephone for an appointment."

It was like a
breeze in the Bronx.

- So he called them?
- Naturally.

They said he should come to this
address on Staten Island for an interview.

- And he never came back.
- Nope.

I've got a piece of pound cake.

No, no, no, thanks.
Please, sit down.

- And you say that was two weeks ago?
- That's right.

I finally checked
with the police...

and they said that there wasn't
any such address on Staten Island.

Then they checked with the neighbors
and they said that we were fighting.

They think that Harry put the ad in
himself so he could skip out on me.

If Harry'd wanted to
do something like that,

I'd have to write the
ad for him, ha, ha.

Besides, he loves me.

He didn't run away.

We agree with you, Mrs. Barnman.

- Hooray. Glad somebody else does.
- We know one or two things...

that may have some connection
with Harry's disappearance.

A month ago in Copenhagen, there
was an ad for an experienced glazier.

The man answers the ad and
he's never been heard of since.

In the south of England, someone
looking for a man to repair thatched roofs.

Ads answered, man disappears.

Then in New Caledonia, someone
needs a licensed veterinarian.

Young fellow applies, they're
still looking for him, and so on.

So you see, Mrs. Barn...

- What's that?
- Excuse me. It's for me.

It's what?

Hey, what's that s...?

Yes?

Mm-hm.

Mm. Mm-hm.

Right away.

Big brother called. Something
important. I have to go now.

Any information you could give
Mr. Kuryakin would be appreciated.

Oh, and I think he could
use another plate of soup.

Uh, wait a minute.

Uh, say, listen, are those
things very expensive?

Oh, no, ma'am. Uh,
they're made in Japan.

Oh.

Oh, ha, ha.

Eat, Sam.

Yeah?

Oh, oh, just a minute.

It says it's for you.

- Yes?
- Illya, a man in a white suit.

Just across the street.

Ten cases of powdered milk, a crate
of aspirin and 500 pair of shoe laces?

The part that interests me is
his asking for a piano tuner.

The part that interests me is
crossing that blackguard's bow.

We were in those boats for two
days before we were picked up.

It's a wonder no
one died of exposure.

Oh, quite, quite,
quite. Quite, sir, quite.

The fact is, you and six other sea captains
are of a single mind in that respect.

- You mean this has happened before?
- Oh, yes.

I've heard nothing
of it from anyone.

Well, naturally, nobody's
going around talking about it.

News like that gets out and the whole
shipping business goes to the bottom.

Uh, ahem.

Oh, sorry. Just
my way of putting it.

The fact is, six nations
are involved in this...

and they've tossed it to us.

- I'm tossing it to you.
- Uh, me, sir?

Oh, by the way, there's a slight
difference in Captain Fowler's case.

The pirate didn't
seize any passengers.

You mean there have been
kidnappings as well as sinkings?

One or two from each ship.

Chosen with no more
regard for the laws of logic...

than the choice of the
merchandise taken from the holds.

This request for a
piano tuner, for example.

Good question.

Well, I haven't the
vaguest of answers.

I've got a desk full of my own work
here. I can't be expected to do yours too.

Here's the casebook.

Now run along.

Yeah?

Do you want to see Mrs. Barnman?

- Now, I didn't quite hear what you said.
- Who's buzz...? Oh.

- Oh!
- Jeez.

Oh. Gee, I'm sorry.
Uh, let me help you.

Oh, please, do me a
favor. Next time, help him.

Then she took me upstairs and
gave me another bowl of soup.

Thanks.

Our friend's escape, though
embarrassing, is easy to explain.

Piracy on the high seas involving
aspirins and shoelaces is not.

Well, unless the pirate
needed aspirins and shoelaces.

Needed them for what?

- Tying shoes and curing headaches.
- In the middle of the ocean?

It doesn't make sense. These
articles are easily purchased.

In the middle of the ocean?

Hope I'm not
interrupting anything.

Not at all. Just having
a drink with Illya.

Are you? I wish I
had time for that.

Uh, Solo...

new development.

Seems three days ago... I
think it was three days ago.

Anyhow, a Soviet freighter got
stopped on its way to Brisbane.

Looks like the same chap.

Took off a mishmash of
goods and one passenger.

- What do you think of that?
- Just one passenger?

Yes, a Russian.

Some sort of musical fellow.

Rather highly thought
of in certain circles.

Vassily Chokurdakhevich. Ha,
ha, they do have names, don't they?

Chokurdakhevich the pianist?

I heard him in Carnegie
Hall two years ago.

He plays Bach with
impeccable style.

- Yes, that's the chap.
- Well, why should he be kidnapped?

I thought perhaps Solo might
find it suggested something to him.

Well, as a matter
of fact, it does.

It suggests to me
that our pirate friend

has finally found the
piano tuner he needed.

I miss him too, Sam.

- Hello.
- Well, hooray.

That's the first thing you've said
since your warranty expired, ha, ha.

Yeah?

Hey, aren't you the fellow...?

Well, just a second.

Passage ticket.

Sam, start packing.

Where to?

They lock automatically
from here. You can't get out.

You will have realized by now that this
taxi is not in general service around town.

It belongs to U.N.C.L.E.

And it is used primarily to transport
people to our headquarters...

whom we wish to have deep and
soul-searching discussions with.

As, for example, you.

I interrogated
him for five hours.

Absolutely nothing.

Not even a word.

But we'll try again tomorrow.

Listen, you think
you're at a dead end.

My friend the
pirate stops a ship...

and he politely snatches an old
lady on her way to visit her son.

All right, and he
burns the ship.

And he kidnaps a mother and
two children for no apparent reason.

Scratch another vessel.

And he pops up in the Christmas Islands
and he grabs an 18-year-old French girl.

Excuse me.

The people he
abducted, they were who?

Well, there was the old lady
and the French girl, and the...

- And a mother of two children, you said?
- Yeah.

The glazier from Copenhagen who
answered the first advertisement...

Abeltoft, he disappeared.

A month later, his
mother also disappeared.

An old lady.

Yeah, it's unusual
parallel, but...

The English roof thatcher.

Soon after he vanished, so
did his wife and two children.

- What about the French girl?
- The fiancée of Romain Lavabeau.

He was the one who answered
the advertisement for veterinarian.

Where those passenger lists?

Abeltoft. Abeltoft. Abeltoft.

Yeah, there it is.

What was the name of
the, uh, roof thatcher?

Melksham. George Melksham.

Here.

"Mrs. George
Melksham and children."

Illya, I think, uh, we're both
still working on the same case.

Instead of being at our own dead ends,
we're at the same dead end together.

Wait a minute.
Maybe not. Maybe not.

Now look. A person answers an
advertisement in the paper, right?

- Mm-hm.
- And he disappears.

And a short while later,
his wife and two children...

or his mother or, uh, sweetheart
packs up and goes away suddenly.

Soon after, they're on a ship.

Soon that ship is seized and sunk
by our pirate and they're removed.

Along with shoelaces
and powdered milk.

But how does our pirate friend know
which ship they're on so he can seize them?

Well, he or, uh, somebody acting for
him on dry land buys them the ticket.

Um...

- The man in the white suit.
- And Mrs. Barnman.

That's right, left
this morning early.

Shoved a note under my door saying,
"Here's two months' rent in advance"...

and keep everything
tidy till she comes back.

Said she was going
to join her husband.

Not if he knows anything
about it. I'll give odds.

Oh, far be it from me to tell you
fellows how to run your affairs...

but it seems a
simple enough matter.

Just find out
what ship she's on.

Sir, do you have any idea...

how many cargo vessels leave
ports all over the world every day?

I mean, she could have
been flown anyplace first.

She could be boarding a ship
in, uh, Reykjavik, for all we know.

Oh, I'm not saying there isn't
a bit of paperwork to be done.

But what's the
alternative, after all?

No, the way I see it, you fellows
have got to locate this ship.

I expect she's sailed by now.

Then somehow or other,
manage to get yourselves aboard.

When it's stopped by a pirate...

Get ourselves aboard,
sir, after it's at sea?

Yes, that does present
a problem, doesn't it?

Two chaps joining a ship in
mid-ocean? Bound to cause comment.

Unless it's done cleverly.

I mean, we can't very well
just fly you out by helicopter...

and dump you down
on the deck, can we?

No.

No, this has gotta
be something that...

I know.

Come in, Honolulu.

Sometimes I think Mr. Waverly
is secretly in the pay of Thrush.

Oh, I hate the sea.

It's too big, too
wet, too salty.

Boris Driadnov, ship's
cook, S.S. Fontella.

Ah, we went down 800 miles
off the west coast of Hawaii.

To me, it's as
flimsy as this raft.

No, I think it'll work.

And the helicopter dropped us
50 miles in front of the Whippet...

so they should be sighting
us in a couple of hours.

And the aerological reports indicate
there'll be a fog bank around 5:00...

so that gives us a
two-and-a-half hour buffer...

between the time the
Whippet hauls us aboard...

and the time we sight the fog.

Why are we so certain that the pirate will
make contact with the Whippet in the fog?

That's been the
pattern in the past.

And besides, that's the
way Mr. Waverly sees it.

After all, Mrs. Barnman is a
passenger aboard the Whippet.

Ho-ho-ho, I'm sure when one
sits behind a big elegant desk...

one's vision has
a certain clarity...

of which we out here in the
middle of the ocean are deprived.

- It's 3:00.
- The fog is a little early this afternoon.

And the Whippet
is a little late.

But we are right on time.

Imminently in danger of being crushed
between two approaching vessels.

Why did they not at least
let us have a wireless?

Uh, it wouldn't
have looked right.

Someone would have
heard our SOS by now.

Holy smoke.

- Where is it?
- I can't tell.

- Is it the Whippet?
- Well, do we really care?

- There.
- Over here.

Stop. Stop. Hey, hey, over here.

- Ahoy there.
- Hey, hey, no.

Illya, jump.

Come on.

There.

Gentlemen, as soon as we
have sufficiently cleaned you up...

the captain would be grateful for
permission to enjoy a word with you.

May I direct you?

Illya.

Ah, yes.

I see we've caught
the wrong bus.

Boris Driadnov. Ship's
cook. S.S. Fontella.

- Thank you, my dear.
- Uh, my name is...

Yes, yes, gentlemen, I'm sure you
both have names and credentials.

I'm equally sure you'll forgive me if
I'm unable to listen to the full details...

of whatever disaster it is you
have so miraculously survived.

However, I'm going to put you
in the hands of Mr. Morgan...

who will see to it that you
are fed and properly billeted.

After which, we'll face the
problem of what to do with you.

Gentlemen?

Ah, captain, it, uh,
just occurred to me...

that we, uh, don't even
know the name of this ship.

Or of its master.

What I mean is, uh, to whom do
we deliver our thank-you notes?

Well, gentlemen, I would suggest
that you defer such activities...

until you are able to determine
exactly how thankful you are.

General quarters, Mr. Morgan.
Leave these two here.

- Man all battle stations.
- Aye, aye, sir.

Attention all hands. This
is your captain speaking.

Contact is established.

Activate radar- and
wireless-blackout equipment.

Boarding parties
muster at Station 3.

Gun crews, man your weapons.

All departments assume
Condition Able-Mike-Sugar.

If I didn't know
better, I'd swear it

sounded like you were
going to attack a ship.

Appearances are
deceiving, my friend.

In actuality, you see,
I'm only going to market.

Forward turret manned and ready.

Searchlights manned and ready.

It's some kind of
international brigade.

Yeah, it's about to
attack the Whippet.

All stations
report Condition Able-Mike-Sugar.

All
stations maintain battle readiness.

Uh, I don't know either of you.

What did the captain mean that I
should wait and meet someone I knew?

I think he meant your
wife, Mr. Barnman.

You know me?

- Harry Barnman?
- Well, yes, but...

Did you say my wife?
Elsa will be here?

As soon as the
Whippet is intercepted.

There goes the
old waistline again.

I'm telling you, fellows,
my wife insists on cooking...

We don't have much time.

So we'd like you to tell us
everything as fast as you can.

- Everything about what?
- Exactly who this pirate is.

Out of what port he operates
and particularly what he's up to.

- If you're members of the ship, you know.
- No, we're not.

We're part of an organization
called the U.N.C.L.E.

We are working with the
governments of United States, Britain...

Russia, Italy, Netherlands,
Spain, Yugoslavia and Japan...

...to investigate these
kidnappings and put a stop to them.

Another ship
with your wife aboard her...

will be coming alongside.

This captain intends to kidnap
your wife and then sink the other ship.

That's a kind of thing that's good for
a 40-minute lecture from Mr. Waverly.

- Is it two-way, you suppose?
- We'll know before very long.

Mr. Barnman, any help you could
give us will be very much appreciated.

Now, who is this man?
Where does he come from?

Well, I really don't know.

He calls himself
Shark. Captain Shark.

Have you been aboard
since your disappearance?

Most of the time, except when we
stop at the cove for refueling or supplies.

- Well, what is the purpose of this ship?
- Survival.

I beg your pardon.

Oh, it's for survival.

- You see, Captain Shark...
- Wait a minute. We seem to be stopping.

It's the Whippet. It's here.

Captain of the Whippet is
deciding he's gone out of his mind.

- Ahoy, the Whippet.
- Listen.

You will heave to...

and prepare to receive
a boarding party.

Mr. Barnman, what is he
looking for, this Captain Shark?

He's not looking for
anything. He's found it.

- Found what?
- This. Noah's Ark.

- Noah's Ark?
- Could you be a little more explicit?

Well, the people who answered the captain's
advertisement and their families...

we live here. That is,
when we're not on the cove.

- We're the ones who'll be left.
- Left?

- After.
- After what?

- The destruction.
- The destruction.

The war. The one that's coming.

The one that's going to destroy
everything and kill everyone.

That is, except those of us on this
ship. The captain says we'll survive.

I see.

After the ashes have settled and the
wind has blown away the radioactivity...

we'll land on an island,
colonize it and rebuild.

And just when do you think
this war is going to take place?

The captain seems to
think it'll be very soon.

That's why he's in such a
rush to get the supplies...

and recruit all the
people he needs.

Of course.

Let's get underway,
Mr. Morgan. All in full.

Aye, aye, sir.

Yeah.

I'll attack the guard.

Mr. Barnman, your
wife has arrived.

Harry, you said Staten Island.

Uh, hi, Elsa. It's
good to see you.

Oh.

I'm home cooking and
you're out here taking a cruise.

And you two. I should have known
you'd be behind the whole thing.

No, madam. As
a matter of fact...

these two are, if anything,
against this whole thing.

It was two-way, Illya.

I thought it might be.

I assume your accent, at least, is
genuine. You are therefore Russian.

- Yes.
- Good.

You can be of help to us.

A very distinguished artist
has recently joined our group.

Unfortunately, at the moment there
is a small problem of communication.

Vassily Chokurdakhevich.

Yes.

Well, you know a good deal.

From what I
gather you overheard...

you also know that we're
here to stop this piracy.

I appreciate your
statement of intentions, sir.

But in coming aboard my
ship, you have joined the colony.

You are now full-fledged members
of my little body of survivors.

So we're prisoners?

Madam, I'm a firm
believer in freedom.

Therefore, you are all free to
choose whatever word you wish...

to describe your condition.

Well, in that case, uh,
words that come to mind...

are shanghaiing,
kidnapping and the like.

You know, despite all
your polish, captain...

you're really just a
sea-going gangster.

Mr. Barnman...

will you escort your
wife to your cabin?

Oh, yes. Come on, dear.

Harry, what's this all...?
What's he going to...?

Don't you shush me.

While loyalty is something
I request of my crew, sir...

respect is something I demand.

Perhaps 10 of the best
will serve to enlighten you.

Mr. Morgan.

This way.

Is this grip necessary?

I think we will get
along very nicely...

once you understand
the nature of our discipline.

One.

Take
that man to the brig.

One.

- Two.
- Buckle my shoe.

Gentlemen, you will
pay close attention.

The ointment our doctor applied to
your back will relieve the sting shortly.

Well, ahem, thank
you for the concern.

Tell me something, captain.

Are you an American?

I've lost touch with such meaningless
divisions of humanity long ago.

Along with a few other things.

So you're all dug in
here waiting for the war...

that everybody else is staying up
nights to keep from happening, huh?

It will happen, my
friend. Read your history.

Well, when this
war does happen...

what makes you think that,
uh, this group will survive?

When the bombs explode, this ship will
seal itself automatically like a cocoon.

We'll be protected by
lead and re-filtered air.

And as you can see...

I've had most of the major
interior sections of this vessel...

redesigned and rebuilt...

to give us an added touch
of the comfort, luxury...

the sensation of living in a
building rather than at sea.

What do you, uh, do for food?

Well, I carry a
six-month supply.

If we run short, I have provisions
stored on several islands.

When the danger is past...

we will leave the ark and
establish a new society.

Mr. Barnman. Don't let us disturb
you. Go right on with your cataloging.

- How's it going?
- Terrible. Elsa won't even speak to me.

Well, Mr. Barnman, women
are adaptable creatures.

Give her a little time.

This is our library.

- No books.
- All on microfilm.

The stored wisdom of man's mind.

Everything from Plato's Republic
to Freud's Interpretation of Dreams.

When we create a new
world, this will be its foundation.

Well, that's fine, but why a
glazier or a thatcher of roofs?

Well, to rebuild.

We also have a dentist, a
weatherman, a butcher, pianist...

a librarian and others.
You'll meet them all.

- When will I meet them all?
- Tonight.

I'm having a gathering to
introduce Mrs. Barnman.

I expect you to be there. You'll
find suitable clothing in your cabin.

And my friend, Mr. Kuryakin?

Or does he stay in the brig?

I will allow his
release this time.

If there is a next time, it will
go much harder for both of you.

Well, that I can
promise you, captain.

There won't be a next time.

Uh, I'm very pleased
to meet you, I'm sure.

The charming lady is, of course,
the wife of our esteemed librarian.

Mrs. Barnman, I now officially
welcome you to our ship's company.

You will notice there are no
precautions taken against us.

Well, there's no
need. Ship is a fortress.

But we might foment a
revolution among the passengers.

Hardly. The captain
keeps them satisfied.

He's clothed them, fed them,
provided them with their families.

Contentment does
not breed revolution.

Then it seems we
are at an impasse.

Well, not necessarily.

We could deprive
them of their utopia.

And how exactly do we do that?

We, ah, sink the ship.

- We sink the ship?
- That's right.

We manufacture a bomb,
place it in the engine room...

blow out the side of the ship. Everybody
has to leave. Plenty of lifeboats.

The passengers would have
no choice. They'd have to go.

Now, one of us has to make an
appearance at the party tonight...

so, uh, enjoy yourself.

Where will you be?

I am, uh, going to do a
little marketing of my own.

I see that you and your countryman
have discovered each other.

How is Mr. Chokurdakhevich
enjoying himself?

He's not.

He's a concert artist,
not a piano tuner.

Well, we have need
for both in our colony.

Nevertheless, he is
here against his will.

Merely because he's
so recently among us.

- Where's your friend?
- A touch of mal de mer.

- He'll be here soon.
- Hmm.

Well, let's hope so.
I don't relish the idea

of his wandering around
my ship unattended.

He might hurt himself.

Come on, Elsa. Let's dance.

Excuse me.

- Are you still angry?
- What makes you think that?

Just because my husband's
joined with a collection of kooks?

Oh, mother was right. I
should have married a doctor.

Oh, your mother's a dope.

It takes one to know one, honey.

Elsa.

Excuse me.

- Hey.
- Shh!

Who are you?

- Oh, what are doing here?
- Just, uh, borrowing your alarm clock.

- Do you mind?
- Is everybody crazy?

- Do you wanna get off this ship?
- Yes.

I'm going to need your
help. Are you with me?

- Well, I guess so.
- Okay, let's go.

- First stop, Munitions Room.
- Hold on.

I'm not making a
move till I feed Sam.

Excuse me, miss.

Mr. Morgan.

Our recently disciplined guest
has yet to put in an appearance.

- Check his cabin and see if he's there.
- Aye, aye, captain. Excuse me.

Hello!

I'm sorry, miss, but there are no
passengers allowed down here.

Don't get so personal.

- Lady, you've been drinking.
- Do you blame me? Ha, ha.

- Come on, back to your cabin now.
- Now you're getting fresh.

I am a married lady. Help.

Help. Someone help me. I
am being taken advantage of.

- What seems to be the trouble here?
- This sailor is getting amorous.

This sailor, is that so?

Look, fellow, why don't you
go on about your business.

Oh, all right.

- Hey.
- Could you give me a hairpin, please?

- Uh...
- Come, come.

Okay.

Say, how come a nice boy like
you knows how to do things like this?

Shh. Come on.

Well, I see our good captain maintains
a kind of explosive supermarket here.

Here. Hold this shopping bag.

Now, first of all, we're going
to need the basic boom.

Ah, this is just what we need.

Now we'll need a
little blasting wire.

Uh-huh.

And some tape.

Five or six feet of prima cord...
Well, I'll take the whole thing.

And I need some detonators.
Where would they be?

Yeah.

Mm-hm.

Are you sure these
things won't go off?

Not now, but when I
put them all together...

in a devilishly ingenious
fashion using your alarm clock...

and the uranium battery
from my flashlight...

- look out.
- Huh.

- Simple as baking a cake.
- We'll need a little frosting.

Would you hand me
some of those ginger sticks?

- These?
- Mm-hm.

What are they?

Dynamite.

Shh, shh! No hysterics now.

Okay. I think that
completes our marketing.

Open the door. Hurry.

You think we should ask
him for trading stamps?

You're a cool one, you are.
Where you gonna put this bomb?

In the engine room. I don't
want the ship to sink too fast.

I want you to go on back to that
party and keep the captain occupied.

Me? How?

You'll think of something.

Ah!

Captain.

Excuse me for a
moment, will you?

- Yes, Mr. Morgan?
- He is not in his cabin.

Shall I alert the crew?

No, not yet.

I'll just have a look below.

- Captain.
- Excuse me, madam.

Well, aren't you going
to ask me to dance?

Well, another time?

But, uh, I'm the guest of honor
and we haven't danced yet.

I have several matters
that are rather pressing.

Yes, you always
have certain matters.

I think you care more about
this ship than the people onboard.

You know, ma'am,
that's not true.

Then loosen up a little, huh?

Well, uh, how long are we going
to be on this slow boat to no place?

How long? Well...

madam, that depends
entirely on your countrymen.

And on all the fools in all
the nations of the world...

who wake up each morning
with new notions for destruction.

How long depends on the
days or weeks that are left...

before the final holocaust.

You take this very
seriously, don't you?

Fifteen years ago, I sat
in a concrete bunker...

and watched an experimental mushroom
cloud reduce an entire island to cinder.

I swore to do something
about it. This ship is my answer.

All of a sudden she's paying
attention to the captain.

- Do you mind?
- Of course I mind. I'm gonna cut in.

Mr. Barnman.

- Uh, captain?
- Later, Harry.

Well, I hate to think that you
had to be forced to join our party.

Captain, I have just placed
a bomb aboard your ship.

Now, there is time for you
and everybody else here...

- to proceed immediately to the lifeboats.
- You will all stay exactly where you are.

- This man is bluffing.
- No. No, no. This man is not bluffing.

I rigged up some odds and
ends from your Munitions Room.

Pay no attention to him.

This man has been sent
among us by others...

and in the pay of others to
see to it that we do not survive.

I think it's time that you
all better start moving.

Come on. Hey, let's get going.

What's wrong with you people?
You like it here or something?

You know what you're doing?

You're not hiding from a bomb,
you're running away from your troubles.

Sure, it's much
easier sitting here...

than going to work
every morning, isn't it?

Well, I think you're
cowards, all of you.

You don't want survival,
you just want escape.

You're running away from your
bosses, from your washing machines...

and from your milk bills.

And that includes you, Harry.

She's right, you know.

However, the point
is rather academic.

If you don't get to the lifeboats, you're
all going to go down with this ship.

You will not move, any of you!

What are you doing now, captain?
Protecting them from destruction?

Mr. Solo, I once made a vow...

never to be party to
the taking a human life.

Now, tonight...

you force me to break that vow.

Now get to the lifeboats.
Take your time. Don't panic.

I'll organize them.

- You better hurry.
- I'm waiting for Elsa.

There she is.

I couldn't leave without Sam.

Well, get the Sam out of
here and get on the lifeboat.

All lifeboats are ready
to be lowered, sir.

- Lower them.
- Aye, aye, sir.

Captain.

You are dismissed
now, Mr. Morgan.

I will stay with you, sir.

You will board one of the
lifeboats and look after our people.

- Please, sir.
- Captain.

Lifeboats.
Lifeboats and rafts.

- You did this.
- Mr. Morgan.

You killed this ship.

Go along now, Mr. Morgan.

They need you in the boats.

You're the finest exec
I've ever sailed with.

My compliments.

Thank you, sir.

Room for one more, captain.

I want to help you.

You're like all the others.

The leaders...

senates, parliaments,
houses of government.

You see something good...

worthwhile, and you
must step in and destroy it.

I tried to create a safe harbor.

There is no safe harbor.
Not here, not anywhere.

The only safety lies in
agreements between people.

Now, I want you to come with me.

No, my friend.

Yours is a world
I don't believe in.

Only optimists like
yourself can go on living in it.

I don't know which of us is right
or which of us is the strong one.

I only know I must sail this
dream wherever it takes me.

It's not a dream.
It's a nightmare.

Now abandon it.

I can't.

I'll stay with my ship.

You'll see.

They'll destroy your world.

And soon.

A few months. At
most, three or four.

Three...

four.

Shut the door.

His name was Arthur
Farnley Selwyn.

He had command of a
destroyer in World War ll.

Made captain, earned
himself a chest full of medals.

Then he took part in
the tests at Eniwetok.

He turned sour, resigned his
commission and disappeared.

And that is all we
know about him.

I liked it on that ship. I had
work to do. My kind of work.

Bills I didn't have.

Yeah, I was running away, I
guess, but, well, it was nice.

I could even skip
a meal if I felt like it.

Oh?

Oh, Elsa, I didn't
mean that I... I'd...

Oh, it's all right, Harry.

Tonight you won't
have to eat dinner.

Thank you.

Oh, well, Illya, in that
case, I think we'd, uh, best...

Oh, no, no. You two
stay. Enjoy yourselves.

Harry can watch.