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'The world is hell,

and men are both the tormented souls

and the devils within it.'

Arthur Schopenhauer

Rum.

I'm leaving in the morning
on the Volunteer.

I'll give you my note of hand.

Do I look like a fool?

Well, then, this good knife of mine
against a tot of your rum.

Heads or tails?

It's a fine knife that.

It's not failed me yet.

Heads.

Aye, it's a fine knife.

I'll thank you for this.

Now, get the fuck out of my bar.

Toss again.

I don't want your boots.

You have my knife.

You can't back away now.

I don't want your bloody stinking boots.

I'll say it one more time,
you can't back away now.

I'll do what the bloody hell I like.

Here!

I'll buy you a drink myself,
if you shut the fuck up.

Well, I thank you for it.

I've been whoring all morning
and the whistle's dry.

-I'll take that for you, sir.
-Thank you.

-Careful, careful.
-I have it.

-Come on, lads. Bring it down.
-All right, so...

This is the ward room.

-That's it. Yep.
-That's Mr. McKendrick there.

And here is you.

I'll put your trunk on your bed.

I'm Joseph Hannah.

If you need anything, just call for me.

Don't worry. Your trunk will be safe.
The captain's waiting for you in there.

-Thank you.
-You're welcome.

-Yeah?
-Mr. Sumner.

Come in.

I hear you were injured out in India.

Yes.

Shot by a sepoy musket ball
on the first day of the assault.

My shinbone bore the brunt.

But I'm totally recovered now, though.
Not even a limp.

I'm glad to hear it.

Tell me, did you see Nicholson killed?

No.

But I did see his body afterwards
on the ridge.

Extraordinary man, Nicholson.

A great hero.

You know, I heard
he sliced a Pandy clean in half

with one swing of his sword,
like cutting a cucumber.

He had a Pashtun bodyguard.

Big, enormous sod named Khan.

He slept outside his tent to protect him.

The rumor was the two of them were...

sweethearts.

Nothing but jealousy.

Thank you.

If it weren't for men like Nicholson,
the Empire would have been lost long ago

and then where would we be?

I saw him hang a man once
just for smiling at him.

The poor bugger wasn't even smiling.

Well, lines must be drawn, Mr. Sumner.

Surely you agree

that civilized standards
must be maintained?

Sometimes we must meet fire with fire.

They killed women and children,
raped them,

slashed their tiny little throats.

Doesn't a thing like that
require righteous vengeance?

Oh, there was
a good deal of that going on.

Yes, sir. Yes, indeed.

So, tell me.

Why did you quit the 61 st and leave India?

I know it wasn't your leg.

A surgeon isn't in need of two good legs.

Not the leg, no.

Well, then what?

Well, eight months ago,
my uncle Donal died

and left me his dairy farm
over in County Mayo.

It's worth enough to buy me a pretty
little house in a respectable practice

somewhere quiet, but wealthy.

Scarborough. Hastings.

I do like a promenade, you see.

So why aren't you attending
to the ailments of little old widows,

instead of sitting here with me?

A famous Irish landowner like yourself.

Legal complications.

Mysterious cousins
crept out of the woodwork.

Counterclaimants, if you will.

It's always the way.

I'm told the case
could take another year to be resolved.

Until then I have nothing to do
with myself, nor any money to do it with.

I was passing through Liverpool
on my way back to the lawyers in Dublin

when I ran into your Mr. Baxter
at the bar of the Adelphi Hotel.

We got to talking

and when he learnt that I was an ex-army
surgeon in need of gainful employment,

he put two and two together
and made a four.

Fierce operator, that Baxter.

Well, I'm not expecting
the whaling will make me rich,

but it will keep me occupied, at least,

while the cogs of justice turn.

Oh, we'll find use for you,
one way or the other.

Though you potions don't really
make a great deal of difference.

Oh, I mean no offense, Captain,

but... potions...

doctors tend to adhere to science,

not witchcraft or superstition.

You'll find the men on board this ship
have very little use for science.

Either way, I should examine
the medicine chest.

There may be one or two items
I need to add...

replace, replenish.

There's a chest stowed in your cabin

and there's an apothecary
on Clifford Street.

Get whatever you need from them
and tell them to send the bill to Baxter.

Mr. Baxter won't like that much,
I imagine.

Bugger Baxter.

You don't sound much like an Irishman.

Well, I've been here most of my life.

I'm more of an Englishman now.

Is that right?

Yes, Captain.

You know what people call us whalers?

They say we're...

refugees from civilization.

Well, that sounds very appealing to me.

Sure.

But you'd be wise to remember
that at some point you have to return.

Welcome aboard, Mr. Sumner.

Thank you.

Well...

Thanks again, Captain Brownlee.

Spirit of Squills?

What was the last surgeon?
A fucking druid?

But I will make sure you have
a ready supply of laudanum for the pain.

That will help with your frame of mind,
too, I'm assured of it.

-Hello.
-Hi there.

Please.

Has Baxter seen this?

You think I'd trouble Baxter with this?

He'll be troubled
when he sees this bloody bill!

I know Baxter.
He's a right tight-fisted bastard.

Just... fill the order, please.

Well, I can't let you
have all that laudanum.

Why not?

If I do, I won't get paid for it.

You can have the regular allowance.

Do you do all these yourself, then?

Oh, aye.

I'm... I'm the best taxidermist in town.

You can ask anyone.

What's the biggest beast
you've ever stuffed?

I mean, the very biggest.
I want the truth.

I've done a walrus.

Oh, aye.

I've done a polar bear, too.

-You've stuffed a bear?
-I have.

Now then...

that is something I would like to see.

Aye. Did it for your Mr. Baxter.

What I did was I set him up

on his hindmost legs

with his vicious claws
raking the frigid air.

Like this. Look.

Would you ever stuff a whale?

Whale can't be stuffed!

I mean, apart from the size,
it'd putrefy.

Why don't we change the name on this?

Change this to absinthe or calomel.

We already... we already got calomel.

Oh, yes. Well, absinthe, then.

I tell you what,

we could put blue vitriol.

Surgeons use a good amount of that.

Blue vitriol it is.

Right.

You!

Over here.

Get me a plate of mussels
from the fishmonger's on Bourne Street.

Bourne Street. You understand?

I don't wanna
be shitting myself to Greenland.

You like that?

Buy me another drink.

Fuck off.

One more drink.
That'll be the last you'll hear of it.

I'd sooner cut your fucking balls off
than buy you another drink.

Could cut your nose off, too.

Feed it to the porkers out back.

I want you gone.

Fucking...!

You can stick that shillelagh
up your fucking arse!

God!

Fucking hell!

Rum, please.

You got money?

Yes.

Right.

I don't want any trouble.

I don't want any trouble, either.

There you go.

After all that has beset me...

all the betrayal and humiliation...

all the disgrace...

the death of my parents from typhus,

the death of my protector
William Harper from the drink.

My many efforts misdirected or abandoned.

My many plans gone awry.

Who are you?

Yet even after India I am still alive.

Still intact.

Still breathing.

It is true that I am nothing now.

Just a surgeon on a Yorkshire whaler.

But isn't to be nothing,
if looked at from a different angle,

not to be anything at all.

Then not lost as such, but at liberty.

Finally free.

Black was the night and cold was the day

For who I should see there

But one of my shipmates

Wrapped in a blanket

Far colder than clay

As I was a-walking
down by the Royal Albert

Black was the night and cold was the day

Who should I see there
but one of my shipmates

Wrapped in a blanket

Far colder than clay...

Likewise a candle to light him to bed

His poor heart was breaking

His poor head was aching

For he's a young sailor

Cut down in his prime

Corner the street
you will see two girls standing

One to the other did whisper and say

Here comes the young sailor

Whose money we'll squander

Here comes the young sailor

Cur down in his prime

You make a noise and I'll slice you open
like a fucking codfish.

This bastard should have bought me
another fucking drink.

We need to move this bastard now
or I'll be in the shit.

So move him.

I ain't moving him!

You did this, you move him!

You're a strong fellow, aren't you?

They can find him tomorrow.
I'll be gone by then.

Why don't you give us a shilling or two?
For all the trouble you've caused.

Get out!

Now!

Yes.

What do you make of our Paddy surgeon?

Did you see what I got him for?

Two pounds a month and a shilling a ton.

That's a record near enough.

Do you believe his dead-uncle story
and the inheritance?

Of course not. Complete hogwash.

He's not the skillful liar he thinks he
is.

Do you think he's been cashiered?

Well, if he has been, so what?

What do they dismiss you for
over there now anyways?

Cheating at bridge?

Drinking too much gin?

Buggering the bugle boy?

He'll... he'll do for us.

Can't wait to see what gaggle of shitheads

you've got waiting for me up in Lerwick.

All good men.
Shetlanders, hard workers, biddable.

Aye.

It doesn't make up for Cavendish.

It's a bad choice making him first mate.

Cavendish is a great turd and
a whoremonger, true, but we need him.

You should know I aim to fill the hold.

Fill it with what exactly?

More blubber than anyone's ever seen
for many a long year.

Yeah, you don't have
to prove yourself to me, Arthur.

-I know what you are.
-I'm a whaling man.

And a damn fine one,
but what would be the point?

The problem we have,
it's not you, it's not me, it's history.

History.

I don't ask
that you bury your instincts, Arthur.

But you cannot fuck this up.

Don't misremember what we're up to here.

It's not a question of pride.

Not yours and not mine.

And it's definitely
not about the fucking fish.

Twelve-thousand pounds, Arthur.

That's a considerable heap of money.

A great deal more

than you'll ever hope to make
from killing whales.

And only Cavendish knows?

Yes. Keep it that way.

And what about Drax?

Keep him close and if the time comes
you can call on him.

And you can assure me that Captain Morwood
will be there to take me men?

The Hastings will be there.

I can't risk a repeat of the Percival.

He'll be there, Arthur.
Morwood will be there.

He knows if this goes well,
he's next in line.

And this is what it's come to.

Twelve-thousand pounds
to sink a fine ship.

It's the money, Arthur.

That's all it is.

The money does what it wants to.

It doesn't care what we prefer.

Block off one passageway

and it carves a new one.

I can't control the money, Arthur.

I can't tell it what to do.

Or where to go next.

I wish I could.

Well, you better pray there's enough ice
up there to make this believable.

If there's one man alive,
who has the true knack of finding it,

I believe it's you.

Ready the gaffs!

Yes, Captain! Ready the gaffs!

-Ready the gaffs!
-Aye, Mr. Cavendish.

-Cavendish?
-Aye-aye, Captain.

Ready the foresail!

Yes, Captain! Ready the foresail!

-Ready the foresail!
-All right, Mr. Jones.

Set the foresail!

Aye, Mr. Cavendish!

-Cavendish!
-Yes, Captain?

Set the gaffs!

Aye-aye, Captain.

Set the gaffs!

Captain.

"We men are wretched things

and the Gods who have no cares themselves

have woven sorrows
into the very patterns of our lives."

Cavendish.

Can I help you?

-What are you doing?
-Reading.

-What?
-Homer.

So we have an intellectual on board?

I wonder how he'll cope
with us rough brutes of the sea.

Do you need me for something?

Do you have
some sort of ailment or affliction?

Of course not. Strong as a walrus.

No, I came to tell you
that once we get to Lerwick,

a few of us plan to test
the achievements of the local distillery.

So far there is my second mate Jones.
He's a cool customer.

Claims to only drink ginger beer
and then...

What has this got to do with me?

We're inviting you to join us, of course.

I'll see you on deck.

LERWICK, SHETLAND ISLANDS

Here's our surgeon!

Mr. Sumner, this is Jones.

-Welcome.
-Thank you.

And over there is our master harpooner,
Mr. Henry Drax.

Pleased to make your acquaintance.

As you'll soon discover,
Drax is a man of few words.

Please.

First time in Lerwick?

-Yes.
-You'll find it a backwards place.

And thank God for that!

A decent drink and a good, wet
slice of pussy is all a man needs

before he embarks
on the bloody work of whaling.

Fortunately, those are the only
two products that Lerwick excels in.

If it's whiskey and women
that you're after,

you're certainly in the right town.

I feel fortunate
to have such experienced guides.

You are fortunate.

Here, Drax, what do you say
we show our surgeon

the ins and outs of this elegant town?

Well... the cheapest whiskey is sixpence.

A decent whore, a shilling, possibly two,
if your requirements are more specialized.

See what I mean?

Man of few words.

I want a woman to fuck
and I don't care what she looks like.

Excuse me, gents.

One ginger beer, please, sir.

-Mr. Sumner, what would you like to drink?
-Ale, please, my boy.

-And an ale.
-Thank you.

Come on, then, you Scottish beauty!

Sure you don't wanna partake
in Lerwick's finest?

No.

No, I believe a good surgeon
is in need of some ethics.

Either that or I do not wish to set sail
with a dose of the clap.

Can I ask you a question?

What are you doing on the Volunteer?

-What do you mean?
-Well...

The job of a surgeon on a whaling vessel
doesn't seem fit for you.

Someone so experience from what I hear.

And what have you heard?

Not a great deal,
but usually a ship's surgeon

is taken by a medical student
in need of funds,

not a man like you.

Perhaps I am an incurable eccentric.

Or just a fool.

I doubt either is true.

To tell you the truth,
I was after a change.

What, you mean running away?

No, Baxter made me an offer
and I accepted it.

Perhaps that was rash of me, but
now I'm looking forward to the experience.

I intend to keep a journal,

make sketches, read.

The boys may not be
as relaxed as you think.

Captain's got a great deal to prove.

-Did you hear of the Percival?
-Yeah, what of it?

It was Brownlee's last command.

Went down three years ago.
Crushed to matchwood by a berg.

Eight men drowned
and even more perished of cold.

None that survived even made a sixpence.

Sounds like the kind of misfortune
that could happen to anybody.

Aye, yeah, but it happened to Brownlee,
didn't it? No one else.

And a captain that unfortunate
doesn't get another ship.

So you have to ask,
how come he gets another command?

Baxter must trust him, I'd say.

I guess he must.

So why are you here?

I've got a plan: Five years from now,
with my share of luck,

I'll have my own command.

And you think a plan helps a man?

Men like me need a plan.

That's the God's truth of it.

Hey!

Mr. Jones.

Whiskey mind.

Cheers. Cheers, lads.

How was she?

Well, I've had worse for a shilling.

I bet you have.

Oh, they're from Zembla!

Our Mr. Jones over there
is a smug little prick!

He has a plan.

Fuck his plan.

He wants his own ship,
but he won't get it.

He has no idea what's going on here.

Which is?

Oh, nothing much.

I heard all about Delhi.

I heard there was money to be made.
Loot aplenty. Did you get anything?

No.

The Pandies had cleaned out the whole city
before we got in.

All that was left was broken furniture
and stray dogs.

The place was totally ransacked.

No stolen gold, then? No jewels?

Do you think I'd be sat here talking
to you pair of bastards if I was rich?

-Well, there's rich and then there's rich.
-And I am neither.

You saw some famous butchery,
though, I bet.

Some heinous fucking violence.

-I'm a surgeon.
-So?

I'm not impressed by bloodshed.

Not impressed?

Surprised then, if you like. Surprised.

I'm not surprised by bloodshed.
Not anymore.

I'm not too surprised
by bloodshed, neither.

Mr. Cavendish, are you surprised?

No, not too often. I generally find I can
take a little bloodshed in my stride.

Hold this.

Watch that for me.

Oh, shit. Not again. Where's Jones?
We're gonna need help.

We're fucking rich, Paddy.

We're fucking rich!

Look out!

Who are you?

Who are you?

Pani.

Pani.

Water, please. Please.

Pani.

-Pani.
-Pani?

Yes. Water. Yes.

Yes, please.

Do not tell anybody I'm here.

Do you understand me?

Do not tell anybody I'm here.

-Pani?
-Pani.

Here he is.

What are you doing?

Michael?

Oh, fuck.

Here. Hold this.

Nothing but shite.

Opium pipe. My, my.

Hello there.

You need to learn to read.

Fuck off.

Army discharge papers.

He's been court-martialed.

No pension. Out on his ear.

-For what?
-Don't say.

Give that... Just let me...

Paste.

Must be.

Let me have a look, will you?

Shit, it's deep.

You lying little bastard.

This is stolen Hindu loot.

Good stuff, too.

Why not sell it on?

It makes him feel safer.

Safer?

Loot like that could get a man in trouble.

And a whaling voyage...

it's full of dangers.

A few among us will not come home alive.
That's a simple fact.

If ever a man perishes
while on board or on the ice,

it is the appointed task of the first mate

to auction off his possessions
for the sake of the poor widow,

not that this ugly sod will have a wife.

But not yet.

-Not in Lerwick.
-Fuck, no. Not yet.

I don't mean yet.

Put everything back as it was.

Do you think Brownlee knows?

No one knows, but us.

Oh, I don't trust myself. I don't
trust the boat, either. Here we go!

Fuck me!

Oh, not again! Here we go again!

Thank you, Lord, Mary and Joseph,

for looking after me on these seas.

Good morning.

-Mr. Sumner.
-Mr. Sumner.

Mr. Sumner.

Make fast on that.

I'm Otto.

Harpooner.

Patrick Sumner.

I'm the surgeon.

I know.

So when can I expect our first whale hunt?

Not until we pass the Cape.

Seals come first.

-I see.
-Poor bastards.

I've been reading
a lot of William Scoresbury.

He says the Greenland whale
can hold a boatful of men in its mouth.

Yeah, I guess it's true.

But she's a timid fish.

Playful. Slow.

Makes her easy to catch.

Dangerous, the flukes.

Could split you in half.

There will be bears, too, apparently?

Oh, yeah.

There will be bears.

He doesn't know.

He's got no idea.

Look at him.

He's got no chance.
Not once we hit the ice.

Oh, we'd be all right

If the wind was in our sails

Oh, we'd be all right

If the wind was in our sails

Oh, we'd be all right

If the wind was in our sails

And we'll all hang on behind

And we'll roll your chariot along

We'll roll your chariot along

We'll roll your chariot along

And we'll all hang on behind

And we'll roll your chariot along

We'll roll your chariot along

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