All language subtitles for Mutiny on the Bounty (1962)

Portsmouth, December 1787.

I looked upon the vessel that was to take
me to the island of Tahiti...

...a destination so far from England...

...that one couldn't go farther
without starting to come home.

And the length of the journey was equaled
by the importance of its mission.

What could be more vital...

...than to find and cultivate a nourishing
new food that cost nothing to grow?

A blessing for the poor,
the hungry of the world.

It was a mission close to my heart.

And it was I who had been chosen
from amongst all the gardeners in England.

Beg pardon, can you tell me
if this boat is the Bounty?

- Boat, did you say?
- Yes.

- A "boat." It's a ship, you landlubber.
- What kind of a seaman's this?

- He's a peddler.
- You selling something, chum?

I'm not a peddler, I'm a gardener.

Assistant botanist at the Royal
Botanical Gardens at Kew.

- You know Kew Gardens, of course.
- Kew's outside London. You lost your way.

Well, I haven't lost my way if this boat...
If this ship is the Bounty.

Aye, it's the Bounty, all right.

Perhaps one of you gentlemen
could tell me where I sign on?

I wonder what a gardener's doing
onboard, huh?

Gonna plant roses in me hammock, are you?

- Good thing, too, the way you smell.
- Hold on, hold on. Look, empty pots.

We're going to Tahiti to fill
them with something, right?

Well, one usually fills
empty pots with something.

- What's this, a little telescope?
- Be careful, they're scientific documents.

- Agronomy records.
- They're what?

Agronomy records.

- Sketches, really.
- Sketches?

- Sketches of breadfruit.
- Breadfruit?

You mean, where we're going,
bread grows on trees?

Bread trees. Well, that's daft
enough for a shipload, eh?

There's nothing daft about breadfruit.
This is a very real food.

- A staple, like wheat. Here.
- Goofy-looking weed.

It's funny nobody's ever
heard of this before.

No one ever heard of the potato
until Sir Francis Drake brought it.

It altered European economy.
Breadfruit may alter it again.

I wonder what it tastes like.

The West Indies
Company plans to feed it...

...to the slaves in Jamaica
no matter the taste.

But then, if it becomes popular,
they'll feed it to the world.

Gentlemen, we're about to embark
on a very momentous journey.

Personally, I'm proud to be part of it.

Now, where do I sign on?

I'll show you. Come along with me.

Breadfruit. Did you ever
hear of that before?

Come on, love, you got me
money, what more do you want?

Now, come on, get off the ship.

- Hey, Scratch, sign on me mate here.
- Make your mark right there.

Captain coming aboard.

He was master of the Resolution
under Captain Cook.

- What's he like?
- A hard one. I sailed under him.

Well, he walks like a sailor, anyway.

- Mr. Fryer.
- Captain, sir.

- How's the crew shaping?
- A prime lot, sir.

- And all volunteers.
- Good.

I'd like my chest brought
aboard, Mr. Fryer.

If you have a sober hand
who can be trusted.

At your service, sir.

Mills is a good man, sir.

Remain by my cabin,
I'll have other errands.

Aye, aye, sir. Come on,
give me a hand, mate.

You're not late in pushing
yourself forward.

You keep your nose where it
belongs and give me a hand.

Well, don't be touchy, mate.
Got a long voyage ahead.

- That's true. There it is.
- Mm-hm.

Always speak up for the easy tasks in port
to be spared the difficult ones at sea.

Ah.

Yah! Yah! Yah!

What's this, a royal visit?

That's Mr. Christian's carriage, sir.

Is it, now?

So I've had a career fop pawned
onto me as a first mate.

- You haven't met him yet, sir?
- He was assigned only yesterday.

Moorechild was my choice. He was taken
ill with some malady or other.

Nothing compares with a woman washed
all over, smelling like a Frenchman.

Fletcher Christian, lieutenant,
come aboard to join, sir.

Lieutenant Christian. You
are a naval lieutenant, I presume?

Yes, please forgive my appearance.

I was staying with friends when my orders
reached me, so I came directly.

I see.

- This is Mr. Fryer, our sailing master.
- Oh, yes. Nice to see you again, Mr. Fryer.

- Same to you.
- Yes, we've sailed together.

Let me show your men your cabin.
Your pardon, sir.

You've come none too soon.

- Please be about your duties without delay.
- Your indulgence, sir:

I have two charming friends here
who insist upon seeing me to my ship.

And they also insist upon meeting the captain.
They say it's important.

- Very well.
- Thank you.

Hello, Ned.

- Fletcher.
- How are you?

- I'd heard you were going to be with us.
- Yes, we'll be together.

What luck.

- Well, if you'll excuse me...
- Certainly. We'll dine together.

Wonderful lad. Mother's a great
friend of the family. Lady Young.

Wonderful horsewoman also. Trains
them herself, if you can imagine.

I'll try.

I'm sorry, madam, I do not speak French.

Oh, for shame, captain.

That's uncivilized of you.

I humbly apologize.

May I present, Captain Bligh,
the Lady Gwendolyn Arbast.

- Milady.
- Delighted to meet you, captain.

May I compliment you
upon your distinguished record of command?

The compliment's slightly premature, milady.
This is my first captaincy.

- The first of many, I'm sure.
- Thank you.

Good luck, captain. Come along, Therese.

Excuse me, sir.

No, don't bother
to come with us, Fletcher.

Last-minute attentions
are always hollow...

- ...and you are insincere to start with.
- Oh, dear.

Well, sir, I understand we're taking this...
This river scow...

...halfway around the world
on a grocer's errand.

I take a somewhat different view. So
do their lordships of the Admiralty.

Do they really? How extraordinary.

Tell me, what is a man of your particular
interests doing in the navy?

Oh. Process of elimination.

There's something dusty about the army,
and affairs of state are rather a bore.

You know, one must do something.

Here's a fellow trying to catch your eye.
Looks like an embalmer.

- Beg pardon, sir, might I have a word?
- Are you our gardener?

Yes, sir. Brown, sir.

- Good. Found your quarters yet?
- No, sir.

Get him a good billet. This
is the most important man aboard.

- Aye, aye, sir.
- I am hardly that, but thank you, sir.

I have a message for you,
sir, from our chief botanist.

- What is it?
- He has reached the conclusion...

...that breadfruit has a dormant period.
According to his experiments...

...it begins sometime in October.

A dormant period?

Four or five months when the fruit cannot
be transplanted. The cuttings die.

Well, October's some way off.

That shouldn't worry us, unless your botanist
is wrong about the date.

- Exactly, sir.
- Mr. Christian.

Yes, sir.

Oh, sir...

Does it really matter when these
vegetables arrive in Jamaica?

It matters to the tune
of £1000 a day, Mr. Christian.

My word, that is an impressive
amount, yes.

The West India merchants
are impressed by it.

So is the Admiralty, and so am I.

It is my intention to land
our cargo in Jamaica...

...as far ahead of the Admiralty's timetable
as is humanly possible.

Yes. Well, one can understand that.

Doing so, one can look forward
to promotions and even honors...

...and all that, yes.

I will do exactly
all that, Mr. Christian.

Which brings me
to the subject of yourself.

I will tolerate nothing less than a man's best
efforts, officer or seaman.

Highborn connections are no
substitute for hard work.

No, indeed, they're not, sir.

But, personally, I see no reason why a good
officer cannot be a gentleman as well.

Do you disagree, sir?

Not if he's first a good officer.

It's a debatable point...

...but a good subject
for a dinner's conversation.

But I'm keeping Mr. Brown waiting...

...and I mustn't neglect
the most important man on our ship.

Excuse me, sir.

Hello, Brown...

Make ready for sail, Mr. Christian.

Aye, aye, sir.

Hands to stations for leaving harbor.

Aye, aye, sir.

All hands to stations for leaving harbor!

All hands on deck.

All hands to stations
for leaving harbor!

All right, now, heavy on it.

Step around.

Let go and hold.

Ship ready for sea, sir.

Set topsails and headsails.
Starboard tack.

Set topsails and headsails.

Set topsails and headsails!

Larboard braces!

- Set topgallant. Sheet home.
- Set topgallant!

Set royals.

Set royals!

Midships. Steady as she goes.

- Boatswain's mate.
- Aye, sir?

Pipe up spirits.

Up spirits! Watch below...

...muster for grog on the upper deck!

Hey, Mills, Mr. Christian wants
a word with you on the quarterdeck.

Fact is, I'm a little slow
sometimes, and...

Good afternoon, sir. Mack
here is reporting a theft.

- What, already?
- Aye, sir.

Carry on with your investigations.

Seaman Mills at your service, sir. No
labor too long, no job too hard, sir.

Well, you're a lighthearted fellow,
as well as a light-fingered one.

Sir?

Seems that in a moment of exuberance,
you stole two 25-pound cheeses.

- I stole two 25-pound cheeses, sir?
- Mm.

But you wish to deny it.

Well, speak up, Mills.

Why, yes, I do, sir. Of course.
Certainly, sir.

First of all, sir, I'd be grateful
to know who's accusing me.

Yes, of course. This
observant chap here...

...says he saw you take them
before we left Portsmouth.

Well, he saw wrong, sir,
or else he's a bloody liar.

Are you a bloody liar?

Answer freely.

No, sir. I saw him take them
two cheeses with me own eyes.

Mr. Christian, testing one man's word
against another's is an empty procedure.

List the shortage as unsolved theft...

...and stop the men's cheese ration
until the deficit is made up.

As you say, sir.

- Well, that'll be all, Mills.
- Thank you, sir.

Was there something further
you wished to discuss?

Early Renaissance sketching, perhaps?

No, sir. Sorry, sir.

Let it lay, whatever it is. Let it lay.

- I got a little score to settle.
- Look, son, this is a small ship.

Fill it with grudges and there
be no room left to live in.

And you're listening to 30 years at sea.

You don't preach to me, McCoy,
and I won't preach to you. All right?

It's a good bargain...

...with you the loser.

You can thank your good
friend Mills for this.

Now, this is the way it's gonna
be, captain's orders.

There'll be no cheese issue until the shortage
is made up, you understand?

And you?

So we've got a bootlicker onboard, eh?

Hm?

A troublemaker.

It wasn't my fault.

Hey, what's the matter?

Don't like to be called
a thief, that's all.

- Thief?
- A thief, that's right. A thief.

- I'll teach you a lesson. Squealing on the...
- Hey. Hey. Hey!

I like a bit of cheese with my grog.
Maybe it's you should take the licking.

Now, look here.

It was the captain who asked me take
the cheeses to his home as a favor.

It's always the same
in this blasted navy.

You do a job for an officer
like that, you're called a thief.

- And the crew lose their cheeses. SEAMAN
2: You did the captain a favor, eh?

It was the captain. The captain
helping himself to the ship's stores.

- Hey.
- The captain's the thief, not me.

Shh.

The Articles of War provide most adequately
for a man who calls his captain a thief.

I think a few weeks without grog
will teach him to hold his tongue.

And two dozen with the lash
will teach him better still.

All hands to witness punishment,
Mr. Christian, if you please.

"If any officer, mariner or soldier,
in or belonging to the fleet...

...shall behave himself with contempt
to his superior officer...

...such superior officer being
in the execution of his office...

...he shall be punished according
to the nature of his offense."

Two dozen lashes.

Ship's company, on hats.

You just remember, it ain't
me that's whipping you.

Don't worry, I'll live.

You know, mate. It ain't me, remember.

Stop worrying. You're making me nervous.

Lay on, Quintal.

[GASPING QUIETLY

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

- Six.
- You're going too lightly, Quintal.

Lay on with a will or you'll take
his place.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

- Twelve.
- You were ordered to witness.

- You can't turn away.
- Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen. Nineteen.

Twenty.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

Company, dismissed.

Lay away lee braces!

You are not eating, Mr. Young.

With your permission, I'm not hungry.

Permission denied. We'll not have food wasted.
Eat your supper.

Aye, sir.

Not a very sociable group tonight.

As a matter of fact, I was about to make
a remark when you spoke.

You're pardoned. Something
troubling you, Mr. Christian?

No, sir, it's nothing. I just...

Well, I don't feel my cheeriest
after watching a man take a severe lashing.

Pass Mr. Young the potatoes, please.

You've witnessed
punishment before, surely?

Go ahead, speak your mind.

Well, sir, since you ask, it's...

It's the question of degree
that troubles me.

You see, if one flogs a man half
to death for a minor infraction...

...then how does one punish
him for a serious offense?

"Minor infraction," you said?

Yes, I think that two cheeses, sir...

Plus the word "thief"
applied to his captain.

But you still feel that stopping
the man's grog was sufficient punishment.

Well, I agree with you.

You...? You agree?

Eat it up. Excellent stew.

If we were concerned
with only the one case, certainly.

- Well, I don't... I don't...
- Well, hear me.

You will, all of you, no doubt,
command your own ships someday.

Suppose your vessel
is running in heavy seas.

The shrouds are covered
with ice, a gale is blowing.

It becomes necessary, in your opinion,
to order a seaman aloft.

He realizes, of course, that if his fingers
slip from the icy shrouds for a split second...

...he'll perish immediately.

Now, this is a typical seaman:

A half-witted, wife-beating,
habitual drunkard.

His whole life is spent evading
and defying authority.

Tell me, sir, what is it
that makes this man go aloft?

Depending on the man, sir,
any number of things.

You can put it in one word: fear.
Fear of what you'll do to him.

Fear of punishment so vivid in his mind
that he fears it even more than sudden death.

Now, don't mistake me...

...I'm not advising cruelty
or brutality with no purpose.

My point is that cruelty with purpose
is not cruelty. It's efficiency.

But a man will never disobey you...

...once he's watched
his mate's backbone laid bare.

He'll remember those white
ribs staring at him.

He'll see the flesh jump...

...and hear the whistle of the whip
for the rest of his life.

Well, perhaps you're right, sir.

I'd be careful of that cheese
if I were you, sir.

It has a peculiar smell.
I think it's a bit tainted.

Then, of course, it's a question
of individual taste.

That's a damn good port.

In the following weeks,
Captain Bligh worked the ship...

...for every furlong
of gain it could give.

Every inch of canvas spread...

...and God help the helmsman
if the wake were not arrow-straight.

Captain Bligh must've asked me
the same question a score of times:

What day saw the beginning
of the breadfruit's dormant period?

I told him repeatedly: I could
not name the exact date...

...for lack of knowing it.

It became clear he'd begun
to worry lest we arrive too late.

He studied his charts, hour on hour.
I could not imagine why.

I'd been told there was only one way
to get to the other side of the world:

The long way, around the Cape of Good
Hope, at the bottom of Africa.

That was the course with favoring winds.

As for the other route, the westward
passage around the Horn...

...while arithmetic said yes
to that, weather said no.

May I share your merriment?

Just a pleasantry, sir, it was nothing.

Mayn't I be included?

Well, it was just the way
you were walking, sir.

Reminded me of a mutual
friend, Lord Folkestone.

- Do continue.
- Well, that's all, sir.

What was the resemblance?

Well, you just both have
this distinctive walk, sir.

Really? In what way distinctive?

Well, he was kicked by a horse, sir.

I'd... I'd rather not say where, sir...

...but it had the effect
of making him walk most oddly.

Poor fellow.

I see.

You may make yourself comfortable
at the masthead, Mr. Young.

Please remain there until I summon you.

Aye, sir.

Don't repeat that mistake, Mr. Christian.
I'm not a figure of fun.

Indeed you're not, sir.

Make the course south-southwest, please.

Aye, aye, sir.

Boatswain's mate! Did you
say south-southwest, sir?

I did.

- Lee braces!
- Lee braces it is, sir!

- Down helm.
- Down helm, sir.

- Hold her steady, south-southwest.
- South-southwest, sir.

- Check away those weather sheets!
- Aye, aye, sir.

Going around the Horn will take
five months off our journey.

Well, we shall have ourselves
quite a little adventure.

What amuses you now?

I was just thinking, sir,
that our little errand for groceries...

...might wind up in a page
of naval history.

If we succeed in negotiating
the Horn in the dead of winter.

Why shouldn't we succeed?
Admiral Anson did.

Yes, but of course, he didn't choose
to attempt it in a 91 -foot chamber pot.

In any event, his was the only ship to do it,
and I believe he lost 50 percent of his crew.

You might point that out to the crew.
It should improve their performance.

Remember, fear is our best weapon.
Good night, sir.

When shall I recall Mr. Young, sir?

When I come on deck in the morning.

I want to see how comically
he walks, poor fellow.

But perhaps in the morning, sir,
he won't be able to walk at all.

Perhaps.

Good night, sir.

Good fellow.

Begging your pardon, sir,
are we really making for the Horn?

Yes, evidently.

May heaven protect us.
I was in Admiral Anson's ship, sir.

Were you really? Did you
find it interesting?

Interesting, sir? It was like riding
a cork over a waterfall, sir.

And "wind" is not the name
for what blows in your face.

It's something made of iron.

Swings at you from the west, never
changing, day in and day out.

With seas as high as the mainmast.

We had lifelines rigged
everywhere, sir...

...and there were still
16 men washed overboard.

Cold?

Three men froze in the yards.
Frozen stiff, sir.

Couldn't get them down without cutting
their fingers loose from the shrouds.

I was lucky.

But that's the Horn for you, sir.

A delightful passage.

Good morning, sir.

And good morning to you, Ned.
Did you sleep well?

- My... My hands. I can't move them at all.
- Steady.

- Easy, Ned.
- But there's no feeling in them, Fletcher.

- Easy, Ned. Easy, Ned.
- None at all. Can't you understand?

- Absolute...
- Easy. Don't be undignified.

Yes, of course, I... I'm sorry.

Come along.

- I don't think I can walk very well, Fletcher.
- Well, don't be self-conscious.

We shall probably all walk like Lord Folkestone
before this voyage is over.

There you are.

Very good, Ned. Very good.

She's straining badly, sir.

Yes, I'll have the topgallants
off her, Mr. Morrison.

Watch on deck! Topgallants fore line!

Boatswain's mate, call all hands.

All hands on deck!

Step lively there. Come on. Jump to it.

Come on, let's get on with it.

We don't wanna be here
if this stick breaks.

- I think that's better, sir.
- I agree, Mr. Morrison.

Afraid of a little weather, Mr. Christian?
Set the topgallants again.

But you see, sir, the masts
are straining, sir.

- You arguing with me?
- By no means, sir.

I was simply answering your question.

- Mr. Morrison, set the topgallants again.
- Aye, sir.

All right, you men. Up aloft
and set the topgallants again.

Any excuse to retard
our progress, eh, Mr. Christian?

But you wrong me, sir, if you believe
that I would willfully obstruct our progress.

Come, now, why don't you admit you
wouldn't lift a finger to speed it?

But that's absurd, sir. Why
should I not wish to do my best?

Because you are the sort of self-styled
gentleman who thinks only one thought.

You feel only one emotion: contempt.

Contempt for effort, for ambition...

...for anyone born less
fortunate than yourself.

You are poisoned with contempt,
Mr. Christian...

...and it makes you useless to me.

But I assure you, sir,
that the execution of my duties...

...is entirely unaffected
by my private opinion of you.

Be certain of that, Mr. Christian.
Be most entirely certain.

Land ho!

Land ho!

Prepare the ship for heavy
weather, if you please.

Aye, aye, sir.

Boatswain, prepare the ship
for heavy weather!

Aye, aye, sir.

Ahoy, below! Breakers, dead ahead!

They ain't no breakers, they're combers!

Two oceans meeting head-on.

Lend a hand, Norman.

Captain's orders to wear
ship, Mr. Christian.

- Do so.
- Aye, aye, sir.

- All hands on deck! Come on!
- Come on. Come on.

- All hands lay aloft.
- We've only just come below.

- What's he think he's doing?
- Come on. Come on!

The forward storeroom, sir.
A barrel has broken loose.

- Take over, Mr. Fryer.
- Aye, aye, sir.

Up helm. SEAMAN: Up helm.

Quickly, there, pull!

Mills, Norman, Bennett.

Watch it!

Bennett!

Wait a moment. Go tell Mr. Fryer
to let her run before the wind.

Right.

We've got to get a lash on it.

- Mr. Fryer, sir.
- What is it, Mills?

Mr. Christian said let
her run before the wind.

- Before the wind?
- We can't lash the barrels until she steadies.

- All right, go below.
- Right you are, sir.

Midship sail. SEAMAN: Midship sail.

Quintal, stand away. Now,
hold off till she steadies.

Hold her steady before the wind!

All right, she's steady. Norman,
Quintal, get a lash on that cask.

Pass me a line.

- What the hell are you doing, Mr. Fryer?
- Mr. Christian's orders, sir.

- Barrel broke loose...
- Put the helm over instantly!

- But Mr. Christian's below, sir...
- Put the helm over!

- Downward helm.
- Downward helm, it is, sir.

Idiot!

Ah!

Secure those barrels.

Easy, now. Easy.

Careful.

Gently, now.

Move him carefully.

I'll get the medicine chest.

He's dead. BLIGH: Mr. Christian!

Mr. Christian!

Are you deaf as well as irresponsible?
I demand an explanation.

I thought she was holding steadily enough.
I ordered Norman under a water cask...

Never mind Norman, answer me.

Never mind Norman, sir?

There was no justification
in your ordering the ship hove to.

We lost a full league before I could
countermand your order. A full league.

- You countermanded my order, sir?
- Now, you heed me well, Mr. Christian.

We are embarked upon a king's mission.

Any further attempt at sabotage,
and I will deal with you as a traitor.

When you countermanded that order, sir, you
crushed the life out of Thomas Norman.

I suppose you would halt the ship
again for his burial service.

Since we are not at war, sir, I would hope
to give him a decent burial, yes, sir.

I am at war. Against ill winds, contrary
currents and incompetent officers.

You'd best join my war, Mr. Christian,
for if I don't start winning soon...

...the casualty list will be real enough.

Aye, aye, sir.

I make our position
here by dead reckoning.

If that's right,
three weeks should see us through.

We'll get through. Pumps
holding their own?

- Aye, sir.
- Good.

We'll go on the other tack now.

- Tack ship, if you please.
- Aye, aye, sir.

All hands on deck. Tack ship.
Come on, Williams, up top.

- Get up. The Horn waits for no man.
- He'll drown the lot of us.

I know the way that man's mind works.
I felt it on my back.

Stop your grousing.

Portsmouth or Cape Horn,
it's all one to a seaman.

Well, it can't stay
overcast forever, sir.

Four weeks' blind tacking
is forever, Mr. Fryer.

And you know it.

Other tack, wear ship!

Downwind in this weather,
sir, is very dangerous.

We have no choice.

Weather braces. SEAMAN: Aye, aye, sir.

Starboard watch on deck.
Starboard watch on deck.

All hands on deck.

What's the matter?

Up helm!

- Steer two points starboard!
- Be ready to reverse your helm.

Lay away lee braces. All the way.

All the way, weather braces.

We're back where
we started four weeks ago.

Weather braces.

Bad news, sir. Your
cabin's completely awash.

Pumps are barely able
to hold their load, sir.

We've lost, Mr. Fryer.

- Make way for the Cape of Good Hope.
- Aye, aye, sir.

- Here, here, here. What's all this, then?
- That, old son, is half a ration of meat.

- What do you mean, half a ration?
- Captain's orders.

Orders? You dish up a full plate
of that or I'll cut your curls off.

- I don't make the rules, I just dish the stuff.
- You'd better take it.

He's right. Half rations
are better than none at all.

- Why half rations? What for?
- Make up time, I suppose.

Starving the men don't make
the ship go no faster.

Saves stopping for stores, doesn't it?

So to catch up a couple weeks,
we starve all the way to Tahiti?

I'll tell you one thing,
it's against the regulations.

Regulations?

If we can be flogged by the regulations,
we can be fed by them.

Good. You convinced me. Now
go and convince the captain.

All right. Anybody coming along with me?

- To see the captain?
- That's right, the captain.

You sure it's the regulations?
How do you know?

- Because I read them.
- Hah.

A sailor with an education.
Like a singing pig.

All right, I'm with you.

What are you men doing in these quarters?

I brought them, sir. They
wish to state a complaint.

Let them do so.

Speak up.

Uh...

I'm begging your pardon, sir.
We're sorry to disturb you, sir.

If, uh...

If this isn't a good moment, sir,
why, this is nothing that won't...

That won't keep a while, sir.

No, no, no, please continue.

I'm always available to hear complaints.

Well, captain, sir, we've come
representing the whole crew.

It's about the half rations, sir.
And they ain't right, sir.

I'd like to... The crew
would like to remind you, sir...

...what it says in the regulations.

- You dare to quote the regulations to me?
- The regulations was made to go by, sir.

- We don't mean no impertinence, sir.
- But right is right, sir.

Five full months you've cost
me, you fumbling idlers.

Us? How, sir? What did we do?

This commission gave every man
in the ship's company...

...the key to opportunity. The
chance to show what he's made of.

Well, you've shown what you're made of:

Dirt and...

And empty silk nightcaps.

Well, I thought I heard your voice, sir.
Good night.

So you want full rations, do you?

Well, I'll give you all the rations
you need to get us to Tahiti in time.

Now, get out.

"All the rations you need
to get us to Tahiti on time."

Those were Captain Bligh's words.

Rations of what, he didn't say.

But he soon showed us.

Rations of his favorite
commodity: punishment.

Served up to the tune of his favorite
music: A cry of pain, a scream of agony.

That was the concert that played
across three oceans...

...as the months vanished
from the calendar...

...and Captain Bligh's tension increased.

Three.

Come down on deck,
you clumsy lubbers!

And that jib, hoist it taut.

Land ho!

Land ho!

This island is inhabited
by over 200,000 savages.

Eleven years ago, when
I was here with Captain Cook...

...they were not dangerous.

But the natives of the Sandwich
Islands seemed friendly enough...

...but without warning, they turned
on Cook and killed him.

We shall take all due
military precautions.

In case we find ourselves welcome...

...you will discover that these savages
have absolutely no conception...

...of ordinary morality.

And you will, no doubt, take full
advantage of their ignorance.

It is a matter of supernatural
indifference to me...

...whether you contaminate
them or they contaminate you.

I have but one concern: our mission.

Let any one of you provoke
an incident which endangers it...

...and I shall cause that man to curse
his mother for giving him birth.

Lee braces, Mr. Christian.

Stand by the anchor.

Let go.

Hoist out the launch.
I shall want 12 men.

- Aye, aye, sir.
- Mr. Fryer, give them muskets.

And arm another six men
and put them in the cutter.

At the first sign of treachery,
open fire and help us to retreat.

Aye, aye, sir.

Select a work detail
before you go ashore.

Advise Mr. Christian.

If our reception is friendly, start
gathering the plants right away.

One plant will be
enough to tell the story.

I must find a specimen that has
sprouted from the root.

- Then instruct your men accordingly.
- Very good, sir.

No, not as a walking stick, Brown.

Bring the cutter in closer.

King George?

No, Your Excellency.

But King George ordered me to pay
his compliments to King Hitihiti.

I talk, you talk.

I go Captain Cook.

Visit many island.

You, Mr. Bligh.

Me, Minarii.

I know, I remember you well. Our
island pilot, and a fine one.

Oh, yes, very wonderful.

Will you please tell King Hitihiti...

...that King George sends
many tokens of friendship.

Hitihiti say, "What
he have King George want?"

This is what we've come
for, Your Excellency.

Breadfruit.

Uru?

That's right, uru.

Uru.

King George wants his people
to be as strong as your people.

He wants your breadfruit to nourish them.

Hitihiti say, "Take
all breadfruit you want."

You are most grateful, Your Excellency.
Thank you.

Here you are, Brownie.
This is one, isn't it?

No, no. Nothing like it.

Brown. Is that it over there?

Right you are, sir.

Right you are.

Artocarpus incisa.

- Hey?
- Isn't it amazing?

Such a delicate sprig,
with the power to feed a continent.

There's evidence to prove
that a diet of breadfruit...

- ...can sustain life all by itself.
- Whose life?

- Not mine.
- Lay on, Mills.

Watch your toes, then.

They're like a string of live pearls.

Must be some sort of game.

- Women only.
- Damn dull game.

Oh, it has its possibilities.

Not a single man among them.

How many women do you
suppose are down there?

- Enough.
- Here...

...do you think we need
to tell the others?

Look at those fellows.

They're flogging the water.

- What they do?
- Chase fish for feast.

You like go?

Go ask him.

- Go on.
- I'll ask him.

There. Now you
see the new roots...

- I beg your pardon, sir.
- ...like little veins.

- Would you...?
- Down into the earth.

- Just for a moment, sir?
- Wonderful.

- What is it, Mills?
- They tend to be shorter, or longer.

It's a debatable point. Some favor
the longer, some the shorter.

They're fishing, sir.

I beg your pardon, sir.

Seeing them down there, working
their fingers to the bones...

...we thought, that is,
the lads and I thought...

...that we might just... Well, just nip
along and give them a little hand, sir.

Something to talk about when we get home.

Yes, sir. Considering our mission, sir.

Now, can we give them a hand, sir?

Yes, I think we should
all give them a hand.

Mr. Christian, I'm ready
for a man to help me ball the root.

- To what?
- Ball the root.

Well...

- Well, Mills...
- Gosh, sir, I...

I don't know a thing
about gardening, sir.

Honest, I don't.

Well, go on, then.

- Thank you, sir.
- Thank you, sir.

- I'm ready, Mr. Christian.
- Oh, damn you, Brown, I'm coming!

Do you speak English?

Watch out for sharks, men.

Climb over.

Mates? Hey, mates, what's that?

Don't be scared, I doubt
they'll take you home with me.

Fish are breaking, boys, look there.

- Well, is it dormant or isn't it?
- I couldn't say, sir.

Only the transplant itself can
answer you, by living or dying.

- And when can I expect its decision?
- Perhaps 12 hours. Perhaps three weeks, sir.

Excellent. You can't say yet.

Perhaps 12 hours, perhaps three weeks.

We've traveled a gardener 29,000 miles...

...to be told we don't even know
the condition of the breadfruit.

Excellent.

I heard that if that bread
plant dries up...

- ...we could be here four or five months.
- Better pray it don't.

- Pray it don't?
- What do you mean?

How did you like your voyage
out here, then?

Nice? Comfortable? Nothing but fair
and proper treatment from the captain, eh?

- Worst I ever remember.
- Well, what makes you...

...want to get under way, then?

Use your head. If Bligh gets
cooped up here for five months...

Five months. Who do you
think he'll take it out on?

You think we sweated it making for the Horn?
Wait until we make for Jamaica.

- We'll worry about that when it comes.
- Aye.

- Might as well at that, mate.
- I wonder why those women eat alone.

Because if they didn't,
you'd be too busy to eat.

Funny lot. They let us make
free with their women...

...and they won't let us eat with them.
Isn't that like locking up the wrong door?

Hitihiti say, "Captain dance
with daughter now."

Dance? No. Not me.

I thank Your Excellency,
but I don't dance.

No say "no." Hitihiti angry.

My apologies, Your Excellency.

I did not understand.

You are amused?

I hope I shall not be, sir.

But it does seem a rather
difficult dance, doesn't it?

We shall see.

My soul.

Sorry to spoil your evening,
but you said...

...you wished to be informed
of any development.

It looks wilted, Brown.

It's dead, sir.

Well...

Might...? Might there not be other
plants that would flourish?

Sir, this proves that the dormant
season has begun.

Well, you did the best you could, sir.

It's a pity the Admiralty will blame
you in any case for the delay...

...but it's an unjust world. My sympathy.

I dislike failure.

I dislike it as much
as the Admiralty does.

Forgive me.

I... I have a partner over there.

You'll forgive me, please.

Hello.

Fletcher Christian is my name.

Is my name.

No, no. Fletcher.

No, no, Fletcher.

All right.

Thank you.

Well, how very sweet.

Now, Maimiti, if I may...

Well, that's a kiss.

Kiss.

No, no, Fletcher.

Yes, Fletcher.

Yes, yes, Fletcher.

- Yes, Fletcher.
- Yes.

Mr. Christian.

- You spoke, sir?
- That's the king's daughter you tamper with.

You should know better
than to risk his displeasure.

Kindly satisfy your lust elsewhere.

Quite actually, sir, we were
simply discussing the...

The incredible variety
of Tahitian vegetation.

- It was...
- Acknowledge the order.

Lust to be satisfied elsewhere, sir.

But not today. Report
onboard immediately.

You bloody fool.

Well, I'm sorry, old girl.

Good morning.

Thank you. Would you like to come aboard?

You come here.

Yes, of course.

You tell Captain Bligh...

...he not get breadfruit.

No breadfruit?

Last night you go away from Maimiti.

Yes, regretfully. You see, I...

Hitihiti say, "Daughter not
good enough for England...

...breadfruit not good enough."

Well, that's certainly
a very sound point of view.

You tell Captain Bligh, no breadfruit.

Yes.

May I suggest that you tell
Captain Bligh yourself?

You see, I don't think
that he would believe me.

- I tell, yes.
- Thank you.

- Mr. Morrison?
- Aye, sir?

Would you direct this gentleman
to Captain Bligh, please?

Yes, sir. Please, come with me.

You sent for me, sir?

Sit down.

A rather awkward situation has developed.

That daughter of Hitihiti's...

...it seems he's quite attached to her.

Yes, she's a lovely girl.

In a civilized society...

...certain lewd intentions toward the female
members of one's family...

...would be regarded as...

Well, as an insult.

Do you follow me?

- I think so, sir.
- But in Tahiti...

...the insult lies in the omission
of those lewd intentions.

Manners that would offend
a dockside harlot...

...seem to be the only acceptable
behavior to King Hitihiti.

Well, it takes all sorts
to make a world, sir.

What I'm trying to say is that you
have offended his code of etiquette.

I can assure you, sir,
that I have done nothing...

...that could be construed as offensive.

I know, I know. That's just the point.

Which point, sir?

The success of our mission depends
upon retaining the goodwill of Hitihiti.

Well, there's no... There's no
doubt of that, sir.

Well, then.

Well, you have my fullest attention, sir.

Don't you understand what I'm saying?

I'm trying to understand exactly
what it is you wish me to do, sir.

Make love to that damn daughter of his.

Is that an order, sir?

- Might I have it entered in the log?
- That will be all.

You see, it is a rather
different thing...

...than being asked
to fight for one's country.

Very well, sir.

I'll try my best, sir.

Thank you, sir.

I'll have the cutter, Mr. Fryer.

Aye, aye, sir. Hold the cutter.
Mr. Christian coming aboard.

Shall I take you
off the duty roster, sir?

Yes, my commission ashore
will detain me quite some time.

Thank you, Mr. Fryer.

How do you do?

No, no, Fletcher.

Well, it's... I hardly know
where to begin, Maimiti.

The ship's company
was pleased to have it confirmed...

...that the Tahitians considered
lovemaking a gesture of goodwill.

It may sound improbable, but do
you know the goodwill...

...in the hearts of our crew turned
out to be practically boundless?

And the Tahitian ladies gave them
every opportunity to prove it.

You see, to the Tahitians, a light
skin was a mark of beauty.

Men with fair complexions,
like Englishmen...

...were regarded as beautiful...

...no matter how nonsensically
their features were arranged.

They were beautiful
and they could do no wrong.

So they did no wrong
at every possible opportunity.

Beautiful evening, sir.

Beautiful.

Sounds as though they enjoy it ashore.

- Doesn't it?
- Yes, sir.

Forgive the liberty, captain...

...but you have not spent one evening
ashore yourself yet, have you?

I don't intend to.

It's a remarkably friendly island, sir.

It's a shame to be lonely in this port.

While our mission remains unfulfilled,
I'm not in any port, Mr. Fryer.

I am in command, where you may
find, one day, it's always lonely.

You see, command allows no intimacies.

You can hardly expect
unquestioning obedience...

...from last night's partner
in a debauch.

Suppose not, but it
does seem a pity, sir.

I prefer it that way.

Yes, sir.

The men are a little slow,
sir, but we know...

There was only one man who refused
to take things as they came...

...Tahitian style. He was in love.

And when you saw his girl,
it was hard to blame him.

But Tahitian-style love wasn't for him.

He wanted things shipshape
in Bristol fashion.

So he went to Captain Bligh
and asked to be married.

Well, I had seen Bligh every day
for more than a year...

...and that was the only time
I ever saw him laugh.

Midshipmen.

It'd be a dull navy without them.

Now get that slut off my ship.

He didn't have to put it
to the boy like that.

- The old pig.
- His shadow don't fit his shape...

...not by a damn sight.

We'll expect it to grow horns.

You will, Quintal. You'll see
it after we lift anchor.

If I be a judge, a man would beg
to settle for the cat...

- ...even before we see Jamaica.
- Aye.

You know something?

A man could have a fine
life for himself out here.

Fletcher Christian.

- My word, how lovely.
- Minarii.

Just exquisite.

Beautiful work. Oh, isn't that jolly.

Maimiti.

Oh, yes. Would you excuse me, please?

I want to say goodbye to her.

Tell King George send for me.

I am good Englishman.

I have plenty breadfruit, plenty hog.
Feed all England.

Yes, well, he's certainly in need of hogs,
and I'll tell him the first time I see him.

Would you excuse me? Thank you.

Well, Maimiti, it's time.

I'll be leaving in a few hours.

I wait.
I wait you, Fletcher.

I look for you every day.

Maimiti, there must be some way
to make you understand...

...that I won't be back.

And if you look for me, you
will only be unhappy...

...and I wouldn't like that.

Never come back to me?

Never come back to Tahiti, one time?

No.

But I'll remember.

You see...

...I've been happy here, Maimiti.

I'll remember you...

...and the lovely time
we've had together.

Your sweet face, your beauty.

But England is my home...

...and it's time to say goodbye.

I must go.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Maimiti.

Take care.

Well, that just about does it, sir.

These 20, and we're all done.

There they are.

They've got
the boat, like they said.

What if we're caught?

Look, we've been over that often enough.

Captured deserters hang,
but we won't be caught.

I wish I could be sure of it.

Why don't you stop
shilly-shallying and come on?

Sorry to be a boor, Ned, but your work
party's gone dallying...

...and Mr. Fryer's on his way.

I think you'd look graceless
being bent over a cannon...

...so I suggest that we go collect them.

Idiots.

Hello, Minarii!

Overtake that canoe.

They'll need a strong wind to outrun us.

Well, they'll not find
one this side of the reef.

No, not that passage! We'll capsize!

Not enough time!
We've got to chance it!

Quite an interesting gathering.

What are those deserters doing here?

Why aren't these men in irons?

The men are being bandaged, sir.

And as to whether they're deserters,
I'm a naval officer, I'm not a judge.

To my mind, you are neither.

Confine them in the cable tier.
Release them for duty only.

We haven't been heard, sir. Haven't
we got the right to be heard, sir?

Oh, yes, indeed you have. At
your court-martial in Jamaica...

...you may be heard right
up to the moment you hang.

Did you say cable tier, sir?

In irons.

Six weeks in that stinking,
filthy hole...

...and there won't be
enough left of them to hang.

I wonder why an alleged gentleman...

...should give his first
loyalty to ordinary seamen.

Instead of to other alleged gentlemen?

Impertinence noted. It shall be logged.
Do you care to enlarge the entry?

Yes. Only with this observation...

...which I will report
to the Admiralty in any case:

In my years of service,
I've never met an officer...

...who inflicted punishment upon men
with such incredible relish.

It's sickening.

Then go and be sick
in your cabin, Mr. Christian.

I have never met a naval officer
who was so proud of a weak stomach.

They forgot to take our knives.

They don't cut iron, do they?

No, but they cut throats. And
I ain't gonna live to hang. Not me.

Now, now, don't be hasty.

No? What's to wait for?

We're finished.

Most like, we are, yes.

But I don't intend cutting my throat.
Not yet, that is.

No? I suppose the angel of mercy's gonna
step out of a cloud and say:

"Captain Bligh, set those nice lads free.
And kindly be smart about it."

Something like that, yes. Yes.

Only, we're not the only people
onboard this ship...

...who can't swallow
much more of Mr. Bligh.

You're grasping at straws.

Who's gonna chuck him overboard?
This crew?

It wasn't the crew I was thinking of.

Who, then?

Christian.

- Mr. Christian.
- Ha, ha.

- Came after us and caught us, didn't he?
- It showed whose side he's on.

Aye.

It showed he was a king's officer,
that's all.

But I hope Bligh keeps pushing
him, like he did just now.

Christian will turn on him.

I know what he's thinking.

I can see it in his face.

And I do not intend to let him forget it.

Five months we'd spent in Tahiti.
They seemed more like five minutes.

The day of departure
would've been a black one for me...

...as it was for everyone
but Captain Bligh...

...except that I didn't have
a minute to dwell on it.

The Bounty had become
a seagoing greenhouse...

...with over a thousand potted
plants to be tended.

Captain Bligh had doubled our quota...

...thinking to please
the West Indies Company...

...and make amends for his tardiness.

Aboard ship, there's a danger
in having too much of anything...

...for then one is bound to have
too little of something else.

Well, go along, Mills.

Oh, dear.

Our first casualty.

We must resign ourselves to losing
a great many of them, sir.

There's just no way to stretch the water.

We don't have enough water?

In the ordinary way, plenty, sir.
But indoors, in this heat...

...they need twice the amount.

But...

...they would all live
if they had the extra ration?

Why, of course. But I measured
the kegs most carefully, sir...

- ...and there just isn't enough...
- Yes, yes.

Give them all the water they need, Brown.

We'll not have another dead plant.

Understand?

Yes, sir.

Fourteen degrees. Thirty-seven minutes.

Belay that.

And stow it away.

Aye, aye, sir.

- Mr. Christian.
- Yes, sir?

I'll have a sentry posted
at the water cask, if you please.

- Aye.
- I want this slung from the main...

...topgallant yardarm.

Any man desiring water
will climb and fetch it.

He may have just as much as this
ladle holds and no more.

Then he will replace
the ladle at the yardarm.

Are we short of water, sir?

Do you wish me to repeat the order?

No, sir, it's perfectly clear.
A bit bewildering, but clear.

Then do it. Don't think about it.

Thinking seems to confuse you.

- You go down, and I'll follow.
- Yeah?

All the way to the main topgallant
yardarm for that spoonful of water, eh?

Yeah, a man would sweat
more than he can drink.

That's a fine way to murder a fellow.

Mills.

- Yes, sir?
- If you feel free to speak disrespectfully...

...because you think you've nothing
more to lose, think again.

The captain may surprise you.

Aye, yes, sir. Yes, indeed, sir.
He'll surprise me.

He'll surprise me...

...if he doesn't kill half the ship's company
before we get to Jamaica. Mark me, sir.

I'll overlook what I heard
this time, Mills.

Thank you, sir.

Burkitt.

Sir?

Take this aloft.

Aye, aye, sir.

- What's the matter with him?
- He's got a touch of fever.

I told the boatswain.
He said sweat it out.

- I'll be all right if I get some water.
- Who wouldn't?

He hasn't had a drop in two days.
He's too weak to climb.

Why didn't you speak up?
I'll get the ladle for you.

It's against orders. I tried it.
Every man's gotta fetch his own.

Sick men too?

Well, that's a kindly rule.

I'll go daft. I've gotta get a drink.

Brown, you must
know that's unnecessary.

Drink all the water you need.

Don't try to climb the shrouds,
you don't know how.

If I may be allowed a protest, sir,
it's a matter of self-respect.

Damn your self-respect.
I'll not lose my gardener.

Damn my self-respect, sir?

- Then, indeed, would I be damned.
- Ah!

I hope you're satisfied. The
masthead is no place for novices.

- Even a qualified hand...
- You murdering fool!

I'll tear the throat out of you, you...

Mr. Fryer, this man will be keelhauled.

We'll give him tonight
to think about it...

...and keelhaul him in the morning.

Take him below and put him in irons.
Burkitt, Norton, lend a hand.

One.

One?

Yes, that's correct, Mills.

One more bit of insolence and you'll wish
that you'd fallen to the deck.

Fletcher, he can't do
such a thing, can he?

Hereafter, you will announce yourself
with a knock, if you don't mind.

You don't deceive me, Fletcher.
You feel the same way as I do.

Why, he's monstrous.
I believe he's insane.

He is the headmaster, overfond of caning.

You're the third-former who can
do nothing about it...

...but bleat and beat your head against the wall.
Now, stop being a nuisance.

You're not gonna patronize me
about this, Fletcher, midshipman or no.

You must protest, Fletcher.
Keelhauling is illegal.

It's tantamount to executing the fellow.

A champion of the obvious you are.
Of course he's executing the fellow.

What would my punishment be
were I to strike a captain?

Well, you know very well you should
be hanged, but that's not the point.

Well, that's exactly the point.

Ask yourself, why should
a common seaman...

...receive a lesser punishment
for exactly the same offense?

It doesn't alter the fact
keelhauling's illegal.

Even a common
seaman's entitled to a trial.

Take a pew. I'll have you a go at chess.

You may have the white. It
might improve your game.

Oh, come off it, Ned. Sit down.

The line's gone slack, sir.

Haul in.

There's nothing left to haul, sir.

Then cast him loose.

Get her under sail again.

Mr. Fryer.

Sir?

Headsails and courses.

Aye, aye, sir.

Set headsail and courses.

Aye, aye, sir.
All hands make sail!

Set headsails and courses!

Man the tacks!

Man the braces!

Two.

Would you care for a drink?

No, thank you.

What are you standing there for?

Did you come down here to watch
my Adam's apple bob about while I drink?

No, I'm thirsty.

Well, take some water, then.

I couldn't. I couldn't get it down.

Puking hell, you're a bore!

Is it a bore to want to help men...

...whose lives are being torn
out of them by a madman?

Why not have the carpenter build you a cross
so you can drag it about the ship...

...and put ashes on your head?
That would suit you, wouldn't it?

I've known you all my life,
but I've never really known you till now.

You're just exactly what you seem to be:

A supercilious poseur,
without the slightest trace...

...of humanity or compassion.

Are you quite finished
with your impertinence?

Not quite. One needn't look
further for your character...

...than the pomade in your hair.

You will close your arrogant
mouth, Mr. Midshipman Young...

...or I'll have you on the rack.

That's a promise and an order.

Close that cask.

Damn your blood, close it!

Grab him, somebody!

Captain... The captain... The captain...

The water in the sea.

I told her I would leave.

The sea...

Where is she?

If it comes, I'll swim down...

...where it's cold and dark.

Then I'm dry, where it's cold...

The damn
fool's been drinking seawater.

- Are you certain?
- We caught him at it.

He's got a bucket of bilge
water hidden in the storeroom.

Must have been at it for days.

Well, you'd best bind him, then.

He won't be in his right head
for a while, if he lives.

Lives? He hasn't got a chance, sir.

Not without sweet water
to wash out his guts.

Well, can't he have it, sir?

Impossible, Quintal. You
know the captain's orders.

Up the ropes he goes.

Up he goes, up he goes...

I gotta go home. It's late.

The dinner's ruined, it's ruined.

The meat's burned to a crisp.

What a tongue that woman's got.

But she's a good sort.

You know, I'm not the easiest man
in the world to get along with.

- Steady, man.
- I got a terrible temper.

Three, Mr. Christian?

Get out of my way, Mills.

Up he goes, up he goes...

Hello. Here's the great face-reader.

That's a rare gift you have...

...for being wrong.

Leave him be.

At least he did give us some hope.

All of that water's for me.

He should be below, out of the sun.

I'll ask.

That mainmast needs attention, Mr. Fryer.

Aye, aye, sir.

Mr. Christian.

Kindly give me an explanation.

With the sea, with the water.

Williams has been drinking seawater, sir.

I was giving him some fresh water.

I'm afraid he'll die without it.

You'll give no one water
without my permission.

Take that ladle below.

Yes, sir.

You bloody bastard.

You'll not put your foot on me again.

Thank you.

Thank you. I've been puzzling for a means
to take the strut out of you...

...you posturing snob.

Now you've solved
that for me, haven't you?

You have witnessed Mr. Christian's act
of violence toward a superior officer.

He will be placed in confinement
until a court-martial can be convened.

In Jamaica, I expect.

And will your fashionable friends be
there to see your execution, I wonder?

Let's hope so.

Pity if your last function
were to be a social failure.

Mr. Fryer, take him below.

Ship's company...

...I'm taking command of this ship.

Mr. Fryer, I'll have
the keys to the arms chest.

You'll give him nothing!

Go below and arm the men off watch.

Stay where you are, Fryer!

You've given your last command, Bligh.
I'll have those keys, Fryer.

You heard my order.

One more order, Mr. Bligh...

...and I'll have your head on this deck.
By heaven, I swear it!

Don't, sir.

Mills.

Right, sir.

Go below and issue arms
to all those who are with us.

- Byrne!
- Aye.

It is pointless to incite
a mutiny, Mr. Christian.

It cannot succeed, and you know it.

Quintal, stop him!

Stop Mills in the arms room!

They're trying to take over the ship!

- It's a mutiny!
- Go, Mills! Go!

Your mutiny has not succeeded.

Perhaps not. But success
enough when it puts an end to you.

Mr. Christian!

The men are armed, Mr. Christian!

Come on, come on, McCoy, get them up.

I'm with you.

Come on in there.

Johnson!

Anybody else here with us?

Well?

Take over.

Mills.

Come on, move. Move, I said.

Come on. Come on. Come on, move.

The ship is ours, sir.

Very well. Guard him well, Quintal.

Brown, fetch my nautical
tables and sextant.

The left end of the shelf in my cabin.
Burkitt!

You too, Brown? You'd join these swine?

A man like yourself, sir,
leaves me no choice.

Swine, are we? Let's have
him on the grating.

I want medical
supplies and a compass.

All right, boys,
let's tie him up, then!

- Yeah. Tie him up. Flog him.
- All right, grab him.

Mills, hold that.

Get over there! Tie him up!

Stand away, here!

- There'll be no more killing aboard this ship.
- Let's kill him now and get it done!

- Aye, aye.
- No! I'm in command of this ship!

If there's a man amongst you who doubts
that, let me hear his voice.

There'll be no more killing aboard this
ship, not even Captain Bligh.

If that's an attempt to earn
clemency, I spit on it.

You remarkable pig.

You can thank whatever
pig God you pray to...

...that you haven't quite
turned me into a murderer.

Now, then, Quintal...

...Burkitt, hold him at the gangway.
Mills, come with me.

Mack, go below and fetch
Mr. Bligh's personal effects.

Ship's company.

I'm putting Mr. Bligh
and his party in the longboat.

He can make the island
of Tafoa in two days.

If there are any among you who wish
to join him, stand by the gangway.

Mills.

Mr. Fryer...

...you understand that it
wasn't my wish to harm you?

I... I hope that you weren't injured.

No, not at all. May I get my gear?

Certainly.

Goodbye, Mr. Fryer.

Goodbye, Mr. Christian.
I'm sorry for you.

- May God help you.
- Thank you.

Provisions aboard and ready
to lower away, sir.

- Lower away.
- Here you are, Mr. Christian.

Stand by.

He's sane enough to drink
all the water he's given.

I think he's coming around.

Fletcher, I'm proud to be with you.

Well, you've done rather well, Ned. Been
promoted to the rank of criminal...

...not even 20, and a death sentence
on your head. Take him below.

By your leave, sir.

Well, we've been talking it over, sir.

And...

Well, what? Well, get on with it.

We'd like to be with you,
but we've got families.

- Well, join the party at the gangway.
- Thank you, sir.

As you know, Tafoa
is due west, 40 leagues.

You have your compass. This book
is sufficient for its purpose.

The sextant is my own, so you
know it to be a good one.

Now, Mr. William Bligh...

Quite polite and formal, are we?

Playing the gentleman
again, you bloody traitor?

Mr. Fryer.

Can't you see we're overloaded?

One man more, and you'll sink me.

Heh. Well, if that's the case,
I volunteer.

You gotta let me go, sir.
I ain't a mutineer.

- Hold those men.
- Boats are heading to us.

We want to go too.

Now, I want it clearly
understood by yourself...

...and those of you below...

...that these men who remain
behind had no hand in this mutiny.

I don't want no part of it.

You will be put ashore safely at a British
port of call at the first opportunity.

How do we know when that will be?

How about our families?

Burkitt, confine these men below and station
an armed man at each hatch.

- Aye, aye. Get moving.
- Move, or you'll be shot!

Come on, quick, there. Come on, quick.

Take them below, Johnson. Come
on, quick in the back, there.

Has your murderous
friend told you what to expect?

Or is he going to keep you in the dark?
Now hear the truth:

The king's navy will not rest
until every mutineer is captured and executed.

Wherever you go, wherever you hide,
a thousand ships will search you out.

Let them! If not for Mr. Christian,
I'd give them more reason to look for me.

Will you step into the boat,
or will you be thrown in, Mr. Bligh?

I'm not leaving you, Mr. Christian.

Not ever. Go to the dirtiest
little corner of the world...

...I'll be there, right behind you,
with a rope in my hand.

One moment. Quintal.

Take your flag with you.

Hmmph.

I don't need a flag, Mr. Christian.

Unlike you, I still have a country.

What a big price to pay
for a little show of temper.

What a pity.

Steady. Watch your step.

We're rid of you now,
Bligh, you bloody maniac!

You and your cat and ladles of water!

Bye-bye, tyranny!

Hey, look, he forgot these.

Hey, fellas, let's sink him with them.

Hey, Bligh, you forgot this!

No more Bligh. All
the grog and water we can hold.

Hey, Bligh, you've forgotten something.

McCOY: We're rid of you now,
Bligh, you bloody maniac.

You and your cat
and your ladles of water.

Bye-bye, tyranny.

Give this to the Admiralty,
if you ever see them!

No breadfruit,
milord of the Admiralty.

No breadfruit? - No breadfruit.

Come in.

Are you ready for us, sir?

You men are now ship's officers.

Mills, you're first officer.
Burkitt, you're...

You're second.

And, Smith, you'll fill
the master's duties.

It's gonna be a bit awkward, sir...

...telling our mates to jump
to it when we have to.

Yeah, that's right. They'll think
we're proper poopers.

Let them think what they like.

A ship crashed on a reef has a better
chance than one without discipline.

No doubt about that,
but making our mates swallow it...

...that's the part that pinches.

I'll make the beggars heed me
if I have to break their necks.

Oh, here, listen to him, acting
like an officer already.

Hold that noise for the forecastle.

Your pardon, gentlemen.

I'm forgetting your new status.

Well, that's all right, sir.
We understand.

Well, at least the common
seamen are happy.

- They have a right. We won, didn't we?
- Aye, that we did.

Won?

Won what, you damn fool?

We got rid of Bligh.

I'd be a dead man if we didn't.

Or in prison for the rest
of my life, if I was lucky.

You're in prison now, Mills,
with one slight difference:

We are not locked in, we are locked out.

Briefly, for the moment,
our plans will be as follows:

We'll return to Tahiti
and deposit our prisoners.

We'll pick up all the water
and stores we can carry...

...and all the extra hands we can find.

And as to where we shall go after that...

...we shall not decide
until we're at sea again.

Is that all, sir?

Yes, that's all.

Excuse me, Mr. Christian, sir.

It isn't my place to say this,
but I know how you must be feeling.

Might I say though, sir,
considering my years and such...

What is it, Smith?

Things are gonna be all right for you, sir.
They've got to be.

When a man gives up as much as you did...

...just because he thinks it's right...

...the good Lord would never
let him down.

Wherever we might go, be it
to China or Iceland or anywhere...

...you'll find a happy life, sir.

It's God's will. I know.

I believe I did what honor dictated,
and that belief sustains me...

...except for a desire to be
dead, which I'm sure will pass.

Oh, yes. God bless you, sir.

We have 16 pieces of pork,
sir, 150 pieces of bread...

...38 gallons of water,
a gallon of rum...

...there's also a compass
aboard, a sextant...

- ...we have seven sea bags...
- Tafoa be damned.

Oars.

Get ready to make sail.

Your attention.

We shall not make for Tafoa.

We shall make for a port where we can
get passage to England immediately.

We'll head for Timor.

We might make it. What do you think?

That's nearly 4000 miles away, sir.

I'm well aware of that, Mr. Fryer.

Timor is 3600 miles away.
It's an arduous journey.

But the trade winds will be
in our favor all the way.

Do not be alarmed.
I will get you there safely.

Yeah, like you got us
around the Horn safely.

- Yeah.
- That's telling him.

It would be a mistake to imagine
that I am no longer in command.

I have at hand one means
of asserting my authority.

There will be no minor punishments.

Excuse me, sir.

Might I ask what is wrong with Tafoa,
as Mr. Christian suggested?

- Aye, Tafoa.
- Aye.

It would suit his book if it took us
a couple of years to get back to England.

The colder the trail, the safer he'll be.

It would suit him even better if the natives
of Tafoa turned out to be cannibals.

- Cannibals?
- Cannibals? Where? Tafoa?

This whole island group
is infested with cannibals.

Continue to make sail.

That should help improve
the morale a bit, Mr. Fryer.

Don't look so concerned.

You're quite right. The
odds are appalling.

You see, these mutineers must hang.

They must hang.

Fletcher, may I come in?

Not just now, Ned.

Well, we've dropped anchor.

Well, then go and make arrangements
with Minarii to land our prisoners.

It's a beautiful day.
Aren't you coming ashore?

Fletcher, you can't keep sitting
in your cabin like this.

It's unhealthy.

Oh, for God sakes, Ned, can't
you simply do as you're told?

McCOY: The way they laugh,
like they never heard of trouble.

They sound like wine tastes.

A man could get happy drunk
just listening to them.

Hutia. Hutia.

Hutia, where are you, girl? Come
here, my little kissing bug.

I got joyful news for you.
You're coming with us.

You're gonna make an ocean voyage.

Mr. Christian says we can take
women with us, if we want.

Hear that? You can take
a woman with you...

...if you can find one,
with your awful face.

Look who's talking. You're ugly
enough to turn a funeral up an alley.

And we're taking men with us too.

Minarii and five hands
to do our work for us.

What a navy.

It's too good for the likes of you.

Carting women along. He has me worried.

- What the hell does it all mean?
- Will you stop that "what's this all mean?"

I wonder why we don't just
stay here, in Tahiti.

You're mad. Tahiti's the first place
Bligh will come to look for us.

If he lives.

You ever try to drown a snake?

And a seagoing snake at that,
with a damn fine sextant.

And with a sextant, a good sailor man
like Bligh could make port in a hollow tooth.

Let's say he lives to see London and comes back here.
How will he find us...

- ...if we're hid deep in the hills?
- Easy. He'd ask Hitihiti.

Aye. That old rascal could be
bought for a bucket of glass beads.

Mr. Christian is bound to find us
someplace safe to go. You can trust him.

Yeah. Sitting all alone in his cabin.
He's changed a lot.

So would you be changed, if you lost what he lost.
There's been nothing...

- ...wrong with his plans so far, has there?
- Not a thing.

Except keeping us from giving
Bligh a taste of his own lash.

Hello, Maimiti.

Fletcher sick?

I'm very well, thank you.

Minarii tell Fletcher fight war.
Fletcher chief now.

Very small chief, Maimiti,
running for his life.

Minarii tell you take
Tahiti people away in ship.

Yes, we need men to sail it.

You take women too.

The men will want to be amused
while they look for a place to hide.

Maimiti go along you?

You not want?

I'm afraid there's no want left in me.

Now, if you don't mind,
I have some work to do...

...and I prefer to be alone to do it.

Maimiti go, you no lonely.

I don't need you to remind
me of my loneliness.

Maimiti go.

Are you deaf as well as ignorant?

Can't I make it clear to you that I have
no life to share with anyone?

No yelling Maimiti you!

You pig. Pig all over.

Do you really want to spend
your life with a man...

...who doesn't care
for anything on this earth?

Tahiti people say, you hate
life, all life hate you.

Maimiti go.

Lieutenant William Bligh, the court
has considered the charges against you...

...and their finding is that no
blame attaches to you...

...for the loss of His
Majesty's Ship Bounty.

You are therefore
most honorably acquitted.

The court finds that mutiny and piracy have
been committed against His Majesty's navy.

The court recommends to the First
Lord of the Admiralty...

...which shall be entered in the record
of these proceedings, to wit:

An expedition of pursuit be
commissioned posthaste...

...and charged to capture
and bring to justice...

...the parties responsible for the loss
of His Majesty's Ship Bounty.

They can hardly evade us for long.

I shall pray they do not, milord.

The court considers it has obligation
to add comment to its verdict.

By the force of evidentiary
conclusions...

...you, Captain William Bligh, stand
absolved of military misdeed.

Yet officers of stainless record
and seamen, voluntary all...

...were moved to mutiny against you.

Your methods, so far as this
court can deserve...

...showed what we shall cautiously
term an excess of zeal.

We cannot condemn zeal.

We cannot rebuke an officer who has
administered discipline...

...according to the Articles of War...

...but the articles are fallible,
as any articles are bound to be.

No code can cover all contingencies.

We cannot put justice
aboard our ships in books.

Justice and decency are carried
in the heart of the captain...

...or they be not aboard.

It is for this reason
that the Admiralty...

...has always sought to appoint its
officers from the ranks of gentlemen.

The court regrets to note that the appointment
of Captain William Bligh...

...was, in that respect, a failure.

Court is dissolved.

For several months, we sought
a suitable place to dwell.

The Bounty visited at least 30 islands.

None of them served our purpose.

In some cases, the natives repulsed us
with barrages of stones and arrows.

In others, we found the vegetation
too sparse to sustain life...

...or the water supply too limited.

But our disappointments
did not depress us.

Mr. Christian knew
how to keep a happy ship.

As for himself, he gave
no sign of discontent.

True, he had a habit of falling
into brown studies...

...of wrestling with some problem that took
him far away from where he stood.

Still, his failure to solve his private
riddle was never taken out on us.

He was no Bligh.

And the absence of Bligh
was a daily tonic.

Discipline, please.
Officers first.

No matter what sort of noise
they make, they always sound lovable.

They've sighted us. She's turning around.

Merchantman or man-of-war?

It's the whereabouts
of the sun concerns me now.

It'll set in about 40 minutes.

What is it, Mr. Christian?

It's an English warship, Mr. Mills.

Let her mark our course well.

- We'll alter it after dark.
- Aye, aye, sir.

Douse all lights. Cold supper. No pipes.

- Mr. Burkitt.
- Sir?

- Arm all hands.
- Aye, aye, sir.

What's the hour?

About two bells.

I never spent a longer night.

Me neither.

I'm glad it's getting light.

I ain't.

What if she's still there?

We outrun her, or we outshoot
her, or we swing.

Not a sail in sight. Ned,
I'll have that glass.

No sight at all of her, sir?

What is it you were
looking at, then, sir?

It's land.

It's there...

...but it shouldn't be.

Mills, Brown, come with me.

Yes. This is our position,
give or take 10 miles.

Empty water.

What's this piece of land over here, sir?

That is Pitcairn lsland.

It's over 170 miles due east.

Or is it?

Well, it must be, sir. There
isn't land anywhere else about.

Yes, that's right.

This must be Pitcairn.
It's charted wrong.

And then it's charted wrong on every single
official chart in the British navy.

Don't you see? Pitcairn's 175 miles
away from where it actually lies.

And it can only be found
by accident, just as we have done.

We must find out whether
or not it's inhabited...

...and if their people are friendly.

Mills, I want you to take an armed party.
Go ashore. We'll cover you.

Minarii, have
your men stand by to cover.

Well, it looks deserted.

No people here.

Tell Mr. Christian.

Well, laddies, how does it feel
to be land-owning squires, eh?

No tenants making hungry mouths at us.

- No poachers either, eh?
- Yeah. Yeah.

Come on, let's take a little twirl
around our estate, then.

That's a good idea. Come
on, Mr. Kew Gardens.

Breadfruit. Thank you.

Mr. Young. Look, yams, papaya, taro root.

Why, the island's a garden.
Beautiful, rich soil.

- What's that?
- It's some sort of a tuber.

I can't tell till I cultivate it.

Do you think Mr. Christian
would like the garden right here?

Well, not if we decide to live
on the other side of the island.

- I got it!
- Good shot!

Here! Burkitt! Mr. Young!
There's tons of food here!

Here. I've just seen enough game
to feed the whole of the British navy.

- I'm not kidding you.
- Water aplenty. And fish.

Big ones. Real big ones.

Hey, mates. Look here.

Pigeon pie for dinner.

Pigeon? With red feathers?

All right, whatever it is, then.
They're pretty, isn't he?

- Yeah.
- The tail feathers are for Hutia.

- This is better than Tahiti.
- It's the climate, it's cooler.

Well, it's not the climate we're tasting.
It's that lovely mapmaker's mistake.

Mates, there's only one thing
missing: Captain Bligh.

- Oh, yes. What a shame.
- I'd give a leg or two if he could see us now.

Eating to our content,
without a care in the world.

I like him better where he is. I like him
going away in his little boat...

...with the hot sun beating
down on his hot head.

Well, God grant him a dry mouth.

Do you remember when he bid us
goodbye, all blown up like a toad?

"I'll never leave you, Mr. Christian.
Not ever.

No matter where you go, I'll always be
at your shoulder with a rope in me hand."

Of course, he's a man
of his word, is Captain Bligh.

- So perhaps we ought to set him a plate.
- That's a good idea.

Why, hello there. Captain Bligh, sir.

Sit down, sir. Sit down.

Here. Have a bird wing or two...

...and kindly explain why you ain't here.

There's no doubt about it.

Nobody's glad to see a captain
who comes home without his ship.

You know, I'd give a stick
of tobacco to see his ruddy report.

Those Admiralty
lords will look at him...

...like he was a piece of rotten biscuit.

I'm afraid your laughter
is unwarranted, gentlemen.

Captain Bligh will be acquitted.

He'll be given another ship, and a larger
cat-o'-nine-tails to run it with.

You're forgetting, mates of ours went along with Bligh.
They'll tell what the old pig did.

They'll tell how he was out to execute
us all, one by one.

Sure.

Your friends are under the shadow
of arraignment themselves for mutiny...

...if Bligh chooses to charge
that they failed to rally to his calls...

...or to protect him properly. Why
should they invite his anger?

They won't be given any choice.
They'll be asked questions.

- The facts speak for themselves.
- Right.

The bare facts alone
will not indict Bligh.

It's the privilege of every captain...

...to decide when an emergency warrants
the reduction of water rations.

Who can deny there was an emergency?

The Bounty carried breadfruit...

...vital to the economic
life of the British Empire.

Do you suppose it'll be acceptable
that Bligh should return...

...after a two-year voyage
with his ship laden with dead plants?

Better than with dead men, sir.

You're forgetting
the traditional answer, Mills:

The mission comes first
and the lives of men second.

Well, it's all the one to us now. Let them
make Bligh king of China, if they want to.

We can forget him, thank God, and I move
we start forgetting him right now.

Bligh guilty or Bligh not guilty...

...it makes no difference
to our lovely little island.

And if it did, we could write out papers,
telling our side of the story...

...seal them in bottles
and send them on the sea.

That's a thought. One of them might
reach England ahead of Bligh.

That'd put a spike in his coffin.

We can make certain
that his coffin is spiked.

What do you mean, sir?

By returning to England ourselves.

- Well, what the holy hell for?
- You're not serious, Mr. Christian?

It's a joke he'll be
after having, that's all.

- Well, it's a joke to spoil me dinner.
- Hold it, hold it, hold it.

Mr. Christian is meaning
what he says, I'm afraid.

Yes, I am, Mills.

And I've got a better idea, sir:

We hang each other
from the yardarms in the morning.

- It'll save us a trip.
- Yeah.

Listen to me for one moment,
gentlemen, please.

I put it to you that we shall never
find contentment on this island.

Sir, it sounds like you've gone
out of your mind.

There's no chance for us
to go back to England...

...give Bligh a bad name
and walk free men ourselves.

And anyone who thinks otherwise hasn't
got the sense that God gave geese.

You're right, Mills.

We may all very well be hanged.

But decency is worth fighting for.
You can't live without it.

And hiding here, shivering
like convicts...

...when we've a just case to present
to the courts, is just another way of dying.

And a far less bearable one.

I didn't know until this moment...

...what the rightful course
to pursue was, but I know it now.

Will you trust me?

Look, supposing
Bligh's been picked up already?

Supposing he's been tried and acquitted
by the time we get there?

Let it be so. Our court-martial will be
Bligh's court-martial over again.

Our jeopardy will be
Bligh's jeopardy as well.

And our acquittal will be Bligh's defeat.

It'll mean no more Captain William Bligh,
or any like him in His Majesty's service.

We need only persuade the British people
of something they already know...

...that inhumanity
is its poorest servant.

Gentlemen, I beg you.

Help me to carry that word
back to England.

That's...

That's a big thought for people like us.

Do you mind if we take
the night to talk about it?

Certainly.

Mills, Quintal, Burkitt,
Minarii, quickly!

The ship's afire. Hurry,
for God's sake, everyone!

She's afire! Come quickly!

Mills, Quintal, Burkitt!

They ain't here! Hurry!

Come on!

Get the boat in the water.

Madatafoa, as soon as we get aboard,
you and Tamas slip the anchor.

Brown, you and Minarii
will hoist the sail.

When she begins to make headway,
we'll sink her on the shallows.

Ned, you and I will go
below and open the seacocks.

She can be refloated
if we can save the hull.

We're fast on a rock.

Right through the hull.

Have you got the sextant, Ned?

What?

Have you got the sextant?

No.

- You can't go now, it's too late, Fletcher!
- We'll never leave here without it!

- Fletcher, you can't go down!
- Abandon ship!

The cutter's heading back.
They've given up.

Easy with him. Gently.
Careful, now.

Find something to cover him.

Minarii, go to my tent.
You'll find a chest.

In it is a medicine case.
Bring it, quickly.

And bring a lamp or a torch.
We shall need light.

Oh, my God, my God.

There's some laudanum
in the medicine case.

It'll stop his pain within a few minutes.

He'll need it, if he regains
consciousness.

Here, Ned.

Spread it gently.

Easy.

Maimiti go
make Tahitian medicine.

I gave him all the laudanum there was.

He'll feel nothing, as soon
as he assimilates it.

Now...

...we must cut away
what's left of his clothing.

Look at that.

My God.

- It's us done that to him.
- My God.

Get away from here.

Get away or I'll cut your throats,
you murdering scum!

Ned, it's useless.

He saved my life, I gave
him bad for good.

I never done that to anybody
in my life before.

Brown.

- What's happened, Brown?
- We're on the beach, Mr. Christian.

There was an accident.

You've been burned,
and you must lie still.

- Am I hurt badly?
- Not too bad.

You're going to be all right, but it's important
that you stay as still as possible.

The Bounty?

It's hopeless.

It's gone.

- The sextant, did we...? Have we lost it?
- No, I have it here, Mr. Christian.

Hide it, Brown. Hide it, quickly.

So it was your work,
the burning, was it, you filth?

I have no want in me to harm you.

For the love of God, believe
I regret what has happened to you.

We all do.

But each man has to follow
his own belief, no matter what.

You've said this many times
after the mutiny.

Well, I did what I thought I had to do.

I burned the Bounty for the good of all.

It wasn't in bad faith.
It was just bad luck.

For the good of all, Mills?

Hm?

Yes, sir.

But why did you have to burn the Bounty?

You'd no reason to fear me.

We were afraid, Mr. Christian.

We were afraid you were gonna
take us to London by force.

Oh, God.

We're sick and sorry
for what's happened to you.

We'll never forget
what you've done for us.

It's all right, Mills.
It wasn't your fault.

Bligh left his mark on all of us.

Goodbye, Mr. Christian.

May God have mercy on you.

Am I...?

Am I dying, Brown?

Yes, Mr. Christian.

What a useless way to die.

It's not useless, Fletcher. I swear it.

Maybe we'll get to London, or maybe not.

The Blighs will lose.

We'll tell our story somehow, to someone.

It only needs one of us to survive.

Never mind that, Maimiti.
We haven't much time.

Please...

Please know that...

That I...

I loved you...

...more than I knew.

And...

...if I'd only...

...had time to...

To...

Oh, Fletcher...