Original subtitles

Good luck.

Cheers, Otto.

Lower the boats!

Come on, lads!

- He's quite something. - Oh, yes.

It's why Baxter likes him.

He takes a larger sum of the money I should think.

I don't think it's money that motivates Henry Drax.

Then what?

I don't wish to know.

There he is! The master!

Hey!

There he is!

Leave some for the rest of us, eh?

A hundred skins is a good fucking day!

it should yield up to three tons of oil.

And each ton will bring in about 40 pound, I'd say,

with some luck on our side.

But we must press on tomorrow

before the pack scatters.

We mustn't let those Norwegian fuckers beat us to our prize.

So, tomorrow, we'll send out our third boat.

And anyone still breathing or can hold a rifle,

will be out there killing.

The surgeon could join us.

Unless he has a book to read.

Or someone's hemorrhoid to ram back in!

Mr. Sumner, what do you say?

I'd say I'm able.

Enough to try my level best, anyway.

Good.

So, tomorrow, our surgeon will join the hunt.

Back to work.

Aye, Captain.

Come on, lads.

You heard him.

That's all right, then.

Yeah, yep, yep. Yeah, yep.

It is a grave mistake to think too much.

Why board the Volunteer?

Why sealing?

Why whaling?

There is no reason and that is its great genius.

The illogic of it.

The mere idiocy.

Perhaps life cannot be puzzled or blathered into submission,

which should be lived through

and survived in whatever fashion a man can manage.

Maybe cleverness will get you nowhere.

Maybe it is only the stupid,

the brilliantly stupid,

who will inherit the earth.

That's it, Mr. Sumner!

Come on.

Aye!

Aye, aye, aye.

Get back!

Fuck!

God!

Mr. Drax!

Mr. Drax!

Could you spare me a hand, please?

Drax!

Sumner!

Sumner!

Sumner!

Mr. Sumner!

Sumner!

Patrick!

Dear God!

Careful with him, Otto. Watch him.

Now bring him... bring him down.

- Bring him down. - Aye, Mr. Jones.

Here.

Is the poor fucker even breathing?

I think so.

Bring him to the wardroom.

Give me a hand, Otto.

- Someone grab the goose fat. Hurry! - Where's the boiling water?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Jones, let's him get to his cabin.

- He'll be more comfortable there. - All right.

Mr. Sumner, can you hear me?

Otto, get the brandy.

You'll be all right.

Here.

- Lay down. - How is he?

He's showing signs of improvement.

Make sure he never goes out again.

I don't want another death on my conscience.

- He's fucking blessed is what he is. - It's a miracle, that's what it is.

Look, miracle or not, from now on,

we mariners will hunt fish

and the surgeon will remain safe in his cabin here,

reading his Homer or pulling his pizzle,

or whatever the fuck it is he does in here.

Easy enough for some.

The surgeon has his job on this ship and you have yours.

Let that be the end of it.

Aye, Captain.

- Laudanum. - Good work, men.

- Laudanum. - Yeah, it's coming now.

One day this boy...

He might still die.

Seems to me he'll be a difficult bastard to finish off.

Brownlee's sweet on him, too. We need to be careful.

The further we sail, the more dangers he'll face.

How much do you reckon that ring's worth?

I'd say 20 guineas. Even 25.

- Ain't our ring. - It ain't your ring, either.

Or the surgeon's for that matter.

I'd say it belongs to whichever cunt has his hands on it at the time.

I'd say that's about right.

Pani? Pani, pani.

- Pani. - Pani?

Yes. Water. Yes.

Yes. Please.

Twenty years ago my parents left me, too.

They were sent to a typhus hospital in Castlebar...

County Mayo.

That's where I'm from, in Ireland.

A long, long way.

My mother took my hand...

and she promised me she'd be back.

She swore it.

But she never returned.

I was left alone for days.

I knew that they had died.

Long before William Harper had come to save me.

He was the surgeon who treated them.

Don't be afraid, my boy.

He was wearing green tweed.

And muddy pigskin boots.

That's what I remember the most.

The smell of the wool

and the leather...

as he carried me outside in is arms.

When the British soldiers get here tomorrow...

I'm going to keep you safe.

I promise you.

I will keep you safe.

No! No, no!

I'm a good fucking shot me!

It takes three weeks to pass Cape Farewell

and my recovery is painful and slow.

Brownlee tells me that many vessels have been lost in these waters

and we should be merciful that we have been preserved.

Otto is convinced that I died on the ice.

That's how I left my body and traveled to higher realms.

Do you know about Master Swedenborg?

He describes a spirit place

as a broad green valley surrounded by mountains,

where the dead souls, they gather...

before being separated

into the saved and the damned.

Well, if there is such a pleasant place,

then I certainly never saw any sign of it.

You would have met the dead.

Spoke with them.

Do you remember that?

No.

No, I do not.

I don't know who or what I saw on the ice,

but I did not die.

I have not been saved or damned.

If I had died, I would be new somehow.

And there is nothing new about me.

As we travel north towards Baffin Bay,

the crew are kept busy splicing whale lines

and overhauling harpoons.

Morale seems high after the success of the sealing

and the men are desperate to hunt some fish.

And I am here to do my job, too.

I give them poultices, plasters, ointments and balms.

They are grateful for these attentions, these signs of care.

They have a faith in me.

Foolish, but real.

But to me they are bodies only.

Legs. Arms. Torsos. Heads.

Towards the rest of them, they're moral characters, I remain indifferent.

It is not my task to educate them or move them towards virtue.

It is not my task

to judge, soothe or befriend them.

I am a medical man...

not a priest

or a magistrate or a spouse.

In fact,

in my current state, I have very little comfort to give.

Yes.

It's Joseph Hannah, sir.

What is it?

My stomach is bad.

When did this begin?

Yesterday night.

Can you describe the pain?

How does it feel?

It hurts me a good deal.

Climb onto the bunk

and we'll examine you from there.

It's a very simple, straightforward procedure.

I just need to examine you to identify the source of the pain.

My stomach is bad, that's all.

I just need pethidine.

I'll decide what it is that you need.

Climb onto the bunk and lift up your shirt, please.

Does this hurt?

No.

Does this?

No.

So where is the pain?

It's everywhere.

If it's not here or here, then how can it be everywhere?

It's lower down.

Does it hurt when you shit?

Remove your trousers.

Turn onto your side and hug your knees to your chest, please.

It sounds like it could be piles.

I'll give you some ointment and you can be on you way.

Yes, Mr. Sumner.

Warm water and a clean rag urgently.

- Clean. - Right away, sir.

Who did this to you?

It was no one.

Joseph...

somebody did this to you.

You're safe in here.

- You can talk free-- - It was no one!

Take this now.

Come back tomorrow.

And every day till the end of the week.

You may go now.

Come back tomorrow for another one of these. Do not forget.

Thank you.

Captain Brownlee?

Come in.

I'll be with you in a minute.

Twenty years ago these waters were full of whales.

All of them moved up north.

- Captain, I-- - Steam!

That's the future.

With a powerful steam engine we could chase them to the end of the earth.

I need to discuss a very sensitive matter with you.

Joseph Hannah came to see me today,

complaining of a foul stomach.

The cabin boy?

But when I examined him,

I discovered he had been sodomized.

What, did he tell you this himself?

It was evident from the examination.

Are you sure?

The damage was extensive.

There were signs of venereal disease.

Fucking hell.

Who is responsible for such an abomination?

The boy will not say.

He is frightened.

He may also be a little bit simple-minded.

Oh, he's stupid enough, that's for sure.

I know his father and his uncle and they're bloody imbeciles.

Are you sure this happened on board my ship?

Without any doubt.

- Cavendish? - What is it?

Fetch me Hannah.

What's that little shit done now?

Just bring him to me.

Go on.

Young Joseph. The captain would like to ask you a number of questions.

Shall I stay?

Aye.

You know the habits and personalities of the men better than I do.

Well, I know the personality of this little savage.

Joseph,

Mr. Sumner tells me that you've sustained an injury.

Is that true?

I've heard nothing of an injury.

Sumner examined Joseph this evening and found evidence, clear evidence,

that he's been... ill-used by another member of the crew.

lll-used?

Sodomized.

Well...

How did it happen?

Who's responsible?

It was an accident.

It's awful dark in the forecastle.

Is it not possible that the boy merely slipped one night

and landed on his arse in an unfortunate fashion?

The idea is ridiculous.

Such injuries as I saw

could only occur in one way.

- Strange that the boy thinks it was. - Probably because he's scared.

Who are you scared of?

- No one. - Look at me, Joseph.

- Who has done this to you? - No one, Captain.

I'm a patient fellow,

but my patience has its limits.

If you have been mistreated, then the man who has mistreated you

will be punished for it.

But you must tell me the whole truth now.

Joseph...

So who did this to you?

No one, Captain.

Joseph...

If the boy won't identify the attacker, nothing further can be done.

No, we can seek witnesses.

We're on a whaling ship.

Yes. Precisely.

Look, Joseph, you may go now.

If I wish to speak to you again, I'll call for you. Go back to your cabin.

Yes, Captain.

I'll instruct the men to keep their quarters tidier in future.

To avoid any more such accidents.

I'll move the boy from the fo'c's'le. He can bed down in steerage for a while.

What if Cavendish is the culprit?

No.

The would explain the boy's silence.

Look, Cavendish has a good many faults,

but he's not a sodomite.

Not of men, at least.

Well, he seemed amused by the situation.

Look, if the boy won't change his tune, then nothing further can be done.

Whatever particular injuries he may have,

it's your job, as surgeon, to treat them.

I trust you have the skills and necessaries to do so.

Sorry to disturb.

No, no.

I'm told a cabin boy was hurt.

Who told you?

Cavendish.

Have your suspicions on the culprit?

I may.

Joseph is a well-known liar. I'd take what he tells you with a pinch of salt.

He hasn't told me anything.

Oh, aye?

That's the problem. He won't speak.

He's feeble-minded.

Do you know the boy?

Not well. I know his father, Fredrick Hannah.

I know his brother, Henry.

What do you make of them?

I don't make anything.

Tell me if this is too tight, Mr. Drax.

No. Not at all.

Lovely.

Brownlee has decided the matter is closed anyway.

And unless the boy changes his mind,

nothing more can be done.

So that's the end of it?

Probably.

Tell me...

Why did you become a surgeon?

A fellow like yourself.

Because I wish to advance

from my humble origins.

Well, you wished to advance and yet here you are on a Yorkshire whaler.

You're fretting over cabin boys.

I wonder what has happened to those ambitions.

I must have simplified them.

- I believe I've done the same. - For the time being, at least.

Oh, aye.

Good man.

Now, keep this on for a day or so.

It should heal relatively quickly.

Indeed. Indeed, I will.

Thank you, Mr. Sumner.

Thank you.

All hands!

All hands on deck!

All hands on!

All hands on deck!

A fish to!

All hands!

Move, men! Move!

A fish to!

Move it along! Come on!

- A fish to! - Man the boats!

Aye, Captain!

- Man the boats! - With a will, lads! With a will!

- Three irons in the waist boats! - Man the boats!

Quickly! We've a fish to hunt!

Mr. Bannon, you and your crew take the first boat with Mr. Drax.

Aye, and check on the grapnel.

Make your money!

Captain, the first boat is ready!

Everybody lynched?

Take as much as you can carry.

I'm not waiting around for yous.

- The second boat is ready! - We can count them in the boat.

Portside, back quarters, dermaside, make way!

Mr. Sumner.

Thank you.

Good! Make way!

Make way!

Hold tight! Hold water!

Starboard, make way!

Hold tight! Hold! Starboard, make way!

Ease!

Ease! Good lads!

Hold water, lads! Hold water.

Lay in your oars.

Oars in.

Go on!

Go on!

All right...

She's fast!

She's nearly there.

Get ready. She's about to rise.

Pull to, lads!

Oars in! Pull to! Pull to!

Drop the third boat!

Drop the third boat!

Pull to!

All right, lads! Pull to!

Pull to!

That's it, lads.

So what's next?

We kill it.

Easy, easy.

That's the line. Slowly.

Make ready now.

Wood and black skin!

Give me one last groan, my darling.

One last shudder to help me find your heart.

That's it, my sweet!

One more inch and then it is done.

I thought I heard the old man say

Leave her, Johnny, leave her...

Let her go!

Make fast the nose tackle!

You three attend to the baleen.

Cut away!

Away, away, away!

Another piece ready.

This beast should yield up to ten tons of oil and half-a-ton of whalebone.

A value of close to 900 pounds should profit hold at market.

Enough to keep you in whores, Jones.

But this is just the start.

I want these holds filled.

I want them overflowing with blubber.

I wanna be unable to work on this deck for all the whalebone.

- All right? - Aye, Captain.

Good job, lads.

- Good Kill. - Raise her up.

Up, up, up! Up, up, up, up, up!

- Away with the tail! - In, in!

- Who's the lull boy? - Down! Down!

Down all the way!

That's it. Let her go, let her go, let her go.

Tidy lines and rug the rump rope.

That will do, lads. Step away.

By Christmas the bones of this gruesome stinker

will be nestling in the delicately perfumed corsets of some,

as yet, unscrewed lovely,

dancing the Gay Gordons in a ballroom on the Strand.

That's thought enough to make your head fairly spin, is it not, Mr. Sumner?

That behind every piece of sweet-smelling female loveliness

is a world of stench and doggery.

I'd quite like to help.

I'm fairly decent with a blade, after all.

- Captain! - Aye?

Our doctor think he'll be decent with a flensing blade.

Bring him on, then.

- Let's see him try. - Fetch him some togs.

There's your chance, lad.

'Cause we were walking her out from the docks

Way, hay, roll an' go

Where the pretty young girls They came down in their frocks

To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away

Way, hay, roll an' go

As this is our surgeon's first flense, three cheers!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away

Way, hay, roll an' go

Soon we'll be driving her round by the horn

Way, hay, roll an' go

We'll wish to Christ that you'd never been born...

Two more buckets.

- Fraser, bring that bucket to us. - I can't cut through it.

Stick with it here.

Maybe we'll make a whaling man of you yet.

Is that so?

Some surgeons would be too dainty for the pick haak,

but you took to it nicely, I'd say.

Well, I found the flensing to be a good deal like cutting turf,

which I did my fair share of as a boy.

- That's it, then. It's in your blood. - Whaling is?

No, not the whaling, the working.

An Irishman is a laborer at heart.

That is his calling.

You may not sound like an Irishman, but one you'll always be.

And what is an Englishman's true calling, then, I wonder?

To grow fat off the labors of others?

There are them that are born to toil and them that are born to grow rich.

And which are you?

Oh, I'd say my time is coming.

I'd say it's coming pretty soon.

Go on, lads! Hooray!

All the barrels up!

Fucking hell.

We need more shakes from the hold.

What the hell is all of this, Otto?

Barrel water.

- Sorry? - Barrel water, son.

Brownlee ordered to break out the main hold.

Prepare for the next of the whales.

Has there been any more sightings at all or...?

I think we scared them north.

We should re-find them again once we reach Melville Bay.

If the ice is not too thick.

Oh, bless ya.

All right, get it over.

Cooper, it's cracked!

It's not rotten. You're gonna have to open it up.

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