Original subtitles

Shore boat, ahoy!

Aye, aye.

Jump!

You'll be all right.

Welcome to purgatory.

Mr. Eccleston, sir.

Come aboard, sir.

Your name?

Horatio Hornblower, sir, midshipman.

Eccleston, first lieutenant.

Mr. Chadd

lieutenant of the watch.

Did you bring your dunnage aboard with you?

My sea chest, sir, it's coming aboard forward.

I'll see it sent below...

where you should go, too.

Get out of those wet clothes.

Yes, sir.

I mean, aye, aye, sir.

Mr. Kennedy

take Mr. Hornblower down to the midshipman's berth.

Aye, aye, sir.

(fiddler playing)

(merry shouting)

Mind your step.

(woman shrieking)

Get off me, get off me!

Difficutt to say who smells worse

the men or the beasts in the manger forward.

One gets used to it.

(pig squealing)

Watch your head.

There goes His Majesty's

latest bad bargain.

Belay that, Styles... unless you want

to find yourself at the gratings.

Aye, aye, sir.

(music, yelling continue)

They're not bad men for the most part

provided they're kept busy.

But this endless waiting...

most of us have been here six months already.

Discipline, you see?

Things will be different once we transfer

to a fighting vessel, i don't doubt.

But who knows when that may be?

Our only...

our only hope at present

is the unpleasantness in France

might come to something.

You've heard the latest rumors, of course?

That Louis was captured just before Christmas?

What do you think they'll do with him?

You can't kill a king.

(shouting continues)

Kennedy: It's as my father explained to his gillie:

All right, perhaps some of these people

have missed the odd meal or two

but lopping the heads of the nobility

is not going to fill their bellies, is it?

Still, that's Johnny Crapaud for you.

Well... allow me to introduce the midshipmen

of His Majesty's ship of the line Justinian

known elsewise to her intimates

as the good ship Slough of Despond.

Man: What's this, Archie?

Another messmate, gentlemen.

And whose pretty arse did you neglect kissing

to find yourself among the fleet's forgotten, eh?

Well, speak, apparition.

M-my name is Hornblower.

What an infernal piece of bad luck for you.

How old are you, Mr. Hornblower?

17, sir.

"17, sir," you hear that, Cleveland?

If you wanted to be a seaman

You should have started at 12.

I doubt he even knows

the difference between a head and a halyard.

No, but I'll make sure

it's the first thing I look up in...

Norie's seamanship.

(men chuckling)

Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I...

(all laughing)

Seasick.

Seasick, in Spithead.

Your pardon, sir.

I...

Aah... just lie quiet until you feel yourself again.

(ship's bell ringing)

The captain's coming aboard.

Captain Keene.

If ever a man was wrongly named.

He looks frailer by the day.

I must thank you for your earlier kindness, Mister...

Clayton.

You mustn't mind Hether and Cleveland.

It's just their way...

till they get used to you.

Man: Present arms!

(boatswain's whistle blowing)

(drum roll begins)

(drum roll ends)

Your father writes that you are a solitary boy.

Well, on a vessel of over 800 souls

You are unlikely to find either time or place for solitude.

(coughing)

How is the good Dr. Hornblower?

Well, I trust?

Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

He said to be sure to thank you

for accepting me in Justinian as midshipman, sir.

One good turn deserves another.

Your father is an excellent physician.

Yes, sir.

The son of a doctor, hah!

(laughs)

You'd have done better to choose a lord for your father

if you wanted to make a career in His Majesty's navy.

How far did your education go?

I was a Grecian at school, sir.

Speak up.

I was a Grecian, sir, at school.

Oh, you've construed Xenophon as well as Cicero.

Yes, sir.

But not very well, sir.

You would have done better if you knew something

about sines and cosines.

Better still if you could foresee a squall

in time to get t'gallants in.

We have no time for ablative absolutes in the navy.

No, sir.

Obey orders, do your duty

and no harm will come to you.

That will do.

(playing melancholy tune)

Ah, the Indies.

Now, that's the place, Horatio.

Clear blue skies... and waters, too.

I should very much like to see that, Mr. Hether.

So you may...

if we ever get off this stinking hulk

and put to sea again.

(stops playing)

You're in my seat.

The head of the table is my place.

Come on, out.

How now, my sweet brother officers?

No cheer for Jack's return?

We took you for a lieutenant boy now, jack.

Did you?

Your commission?

Refused!

Oh... bad luck.

Bad luck, indeed.

So acting Lieutenant Simpson is once again...

Mr. Midshipman Simpson.

At your service.

What's this, a new face among our august company?

Mister...?

Hornblower, sir.

Pleased to meet you.

What have you there?

Mutton, sir.

Hmm.

Very fine.

Very fine indeed.

A mite satty for my taste.

What do you mean by helping yourself to my vittles, sir?

I should have thought my intention was quite obvious.

Kennedy...

Kennedy!

You'll acquaint young Snotty here with the way of things.

Or have you forgotten so soon?

N-n-no, I... I...

Mr. Simpson may levy a toll upon our sea chests

for fresh shirts.

Likewise, our issue of spirits and best cuts of meat go to him.

Why?

He's senior officer in the mess.

We are all midshipmen.

That smacks of Republicanism to my mind, Mr. Hornblower.

Is that what you are?

Well, to my knowledge, there's nothing in King's regulations...

I piss on your regulations!

There's but one law in this mess:

Render unto Caesar.

And I'll leave it to you to figure which of us is Caesar

and which is to do the rendering.

He takes your meaning, Jack.

Oh, Clayton, you gin-soaked sot.

Strangle a tune from that fiddle of yours.

Hornblower...

Cut a reel.

Did you hear me, sir?

Dance, I said.

Dance, dance, dance!

(chuckles)

I've seen men caper more lively on the end of a gibbet.

Mr. Kennedy, that Mr. Hornblower might learn

who runs this mess

you'll wake him every half hour, day and night

until I tell you otherwise.

Very well.

(fitful muttering, groaning)

(screaming)

Kennedy!

Archie.

Simpson: Kennedy!

I said wake Hornblower

not me and the whole damn ship.

Something's wrong.

He's sick.

I don't care if he's dying.

Keep him quiet.

(Kennedy shivers)

Archie.

He's started again.

Damn, I feared as much.

Clayton, if he's unfit

you'll take his duties

in respect of waking Hornblower.

Do you hear?

As you please, Jack.

As you please.

Help me get him back to his bed.

It's all right, Archie.

It's all right.

A bad dream.

Sleep now, sleep.

What ails him?

What ails us all.

(whistle blows)

Sir!

Mr. Hornblower!

Mr. Eccleston asks if you can attend him in the fighting top.

The fighting top?

Aye, sir.

At once, he said.

(snickers)

Not afraid of heights, are you, Snotty?

Mind you...

Mighty long drop.

Help me.

Please.

Please.

(hoarsely): Help me, please.

(pants)

Time, gentlemen!

Now, let's see how you have fared

with the problem set for you by Mr. Bowles.

Mr. Simpson.

(laughs) We must all rejoice.

The sources of the Nile have been discovered at last.

Your ship, as far as I can make out from your illiterate scrawl

is in Central Africa.

Let's see what other terrae incognitiae

have been opened up

by the remaining intrepid explorers.

Mr. Cleveland.

No.

Mr. Hether.

No.

Mr. Kennedy.

No.

Mr. Hornblower.

You must be proud to be alone successful

among this crowd of intellectual giants.

If you double your attainment while you double your years

I'm afeared you'll leave the rest of us behind.

Well done, Mr. Hornblower.

Mr. Bowles!

Be so good as to see that Mr. Simpson

pays even further attention to his mathematical studies.

Good day, gentlemen.

I've been thinking, gentlemen.

Time to reconvene the proceedings

of the inquisition.

Who shall we question?

Well, there can only be one candidate.

Who else but the captain's favorite?

Mr. Hornblower.

Cleveland, Hether, table.

Jack!

Do it, unless you want to take his place!

Leave me go!

Simpson: Quiet, boy.

(groans)

You're a bit of a dark horse, aren't you, Snotty?

Showing us all up in front of Captain Keene.

Turn him over.

Come on!

Now.

The purpose of this inquisition

is for me to get to know you better.

You see, I know these dogs.

I know what gnaws at their souls at night.

Things they'd rather no one knew of.

So...

What's your dirty little secret?

A fancier of other boys, perhaps?

(grunts as chain breaks)

Or is it that your mother makes a living on her back?

You fitthy...

(punch lands)

(banging head)

Come on, Snotty! Get up!

You've won, Jack, he's finished.

This little whore's son needs to learn respect for his betters.

Come on, Snotty.

Get up!

Enough, Jack, you'll kill him!

Stay down, boy, for God's sake.

(lash lands, Hornblower grunts)

(trigger cocks)

Stand off.

Clayton, my bold friend, I've no quarrel with you.

Stand off, Jack

or by God, I'll trim the wall with your brains.

Take him to Dr. Hepplewhite.

My...

but how bold you are with a pistol in your hand.

But I know you for the coward you are, don't I?

Man: Come on, lads, look lively!

Mr. Hornblower.

Mr. Hornblower!

What is the matter with you this day?

I gave orders...

God, what happened to you?

I missed my footing in the dark last night and fell, sir.

Onto both sides of your face at once? Hmm?

Come, no more of this nonsense.

With whom did you fight?

Well, answer me.

Quickly, and you may be deatt with leniently.

I fell, sir.

Very well, we shall see if a spell in the rigging

can't teach you to tread more carefully.

Hornblower: "Dearest Father, I am pleased to tell you

"that everything is going along splendidly.

"I count myself fortunate, indeed

"to serve under Captain Keene, and with so fine a body of men

"as are to be found here in Justinian.

"I am very happy here.

"I trust this finds you as it leaves me

"well and in good spirits.

Your affectionate son, Horatio."

(seagull crying)

Drop of grog in it to warm you through.

Horatio?

Death.

What?

I was thinking on death.

Whose?

Mine.

Damned unsporting of the everlasting

to fix his canon against self-slaughter

if you ask me.

You could always desert.

I'd never be free of him then.

He'd have won.

And that should be worse than death.

Someone should stand against him.

The beating he gave you

that was nothing.

Believe me.

You don't know half what he's capable of.

The East India convoy is expected today.

Mr. Simpson will take a party of men ashore

and report to Lieutenant Chalk of the Goliath

who is in charge of press gangs.

Mr. Hornblower shall accompany him.

Aye, aye, sir.

Some hands from the East India convoy

may try to sneak ashore

to escape being pressed to further service.

It's our business to cut off their retreat.

Mr. Simpson and, uh...

this is Mr. Hornblower, sir.

Distinguished as the midshipman

who was seasick in Spithead.

You shall arrange a cordon along the waterfront

to sweep up any absconders.

I leave the details to you, Mr. Simpson.

Aye, aye, sir, thank you, sir.

Rendezvous is back here at the lamb.

(woman laughing)

Why aren't you on watch where I left you?

The convoy has not yet signaled.

Then all is well with the world.

Here's to the East India convoy.

Long may it be delayed.

Come on, Hornblower, give us a toast.

Come on!

Confusion to Robespierre.

(door opens)

Your men are all properly placed, Mr. Simpson?

Indeed they are, sir.

This is Mr. Caldwell, also of the Goliath.

Mr. Simpson and Mr. Hornblower of the Justinian.

We have a long wait before us, I fear.

Will you gentlemen join me in a glass?

Yes, sir.

And a game of cards to pass the time?

Gladly, sir, gladly.

Excellent.

Potman, cards and a light.

Uh-uh-uh-uh.

And the rest are mine.

What do you mean, the rest are yours?

Five tricks... game and rubber.

I might take another.

I trump lead of hearts with diamonds

and make three more clubs.

You're very sure.

It's a mathematical certainty.

You know too much about this game.

Seems to know the backs of the cards as well as the fronts.

That is an insutting remark, Mr. Simpson.

For that I shall have to ask satisfaction.

Chalk: Come, Mr. Hornblower.

Mr. Simpson had a momentary loss of temper.

I am sure he will explain.

I have been accused of cheating at cards, sir.

That is a hard thing to explain away.

The wine was in and the wit was out.

Mr. Simpson was speaking

in jest, I'm sure.

Let's call for another bottle

and drink it in friendship.

With pleasure.

Excellent.

Lf...

Mr. Simpson begs my pardon at once

before you two gentlemen

and admits that he spoke without justification

and in a manner no gentleman would employ.

Apologize to you?

Never this side of hell.

You hear that, gentlemen?

I have been insutted

and Mr. Simpson refuses to apologize

while insutting me further.

There is only one way now

in which satisfaction can be given.

A duel?

Are you mad?

Tomorrow sees an end to it, Archie.

One way or another, I shall be rid of him.

I have an even chance.

An even chance?

Simpson's reckoned one of the best shots in the navy.

He'll kill you certain sure.

I'll act as your second, of course, but...

Have you ever fought a duel before?

You ready?

I can't prevail upon you to change your mind?

Very well.

Hand me my cloak, will you?

(driver yelling)

(horse neighs)

(bird squawks)

Where is he?

I regret my principal has met with an accident

which prevents his attendance this morning.

You mean the little coward has pissed himself?

As his second, I am willing to stand proxy.

I shall fight the duel in his stead.

Unless Mr. Simpson is willing to withdraw his accusation, of course.

Never.

Wait a moment, Mr. Clayton.

Wait a moment, I'm not sure if that's legal.

Legal or not, Dr. Hepplewhite, it would settle the matter.

I am here.

And you're not afraid of me, are you, Jack?

(bell ringing)

I will say "one, two, three, fire."

At the last word, gentlemen, you can fire as you will.

Are you ready?

Yes.

Yes.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fire!

(cries out)

Got you... bastard.

(groaning)

(groans)

(man yelling)

Upstairs.

(panting) Clayton?

I'm sorry.

I didn't kill him.

(people shouting outside)

What is it?

What are they shouting about?

I don't know.

Archie, see if you can't quieten them.

Why?

You were right.

Horatio...

someone had to stand against him.

But not a boy.

You shamed me.

Even a coward cannot run forever.

I thought I could beat him.

I had an even chance.

Oh, Jesu!

Horatio?

Is it evening?

(bells tolling)

Hornblower!

I'm not done with you yet, boy.

I'm going to flay you alive!

(lively chatter in street)

(dog barking)

Man: Look lively!

Push them along!

He's dead.

Yes.

No, you fool, not Clayton, Louis.

The frogs have murdered their king.

Tried and executed for crimes against the people.

It means war, Horatio.

Don't you understand?

It means war.

Well, what's the word?

Do we transfer?

A third of the crew are to remain with Justinian.

A third will go to Arethusa, under black Charlie Hammond.

And we few...

We fortunate few...

Don't keep us on tenterhooks!

Keene has recommended our transfer to...

Indefatigable.

Yes!

A frigate! You hear that?

It means prize money.

Horatio?

Poor old Clayton.

He always wanted to serve on a frigate.

It is a sure opportunity for advancement

for distinction, for prize money.

It is the opportunity of a lifetime, sir.

I thank you for it, but...

Any ambitious young officer would jump at the chance

to serve on a frigate!

I know, sir...

but you accepted me here as midshipman and...

of course, I must stay with you.

Not, uh, many young men would have said that, Mr. Hornblower.

I am very touched by your loyatty

even though I won't live to appreciate it.

But...

No, please don't interrupt!

Youth and quick wits belong where they can be rewarded

not on a channel groper, with a dying captain.

Sir?

A midshipman's share of prize money is not much, I grant you

but at last you can start to repay the debt you owe your father.

It is the good of the service I have in mind, Mr. Hornblower

when I insist that you take up this posting.

Aye, aye, sir.

My name is Captain Sir Edward Pellew

and I am here to tell you your days of idling are over!

(hearty cheering)

You have a mind to fight?

(lusty approvals)

That is well, for you shall have your fill!

(cheering)

Yesterday, his majesty received

a communication from Paris.

The revolutionary government in France

has declared war on Britain.

The old adversary may wear a new face

but whatever mask he chooses to hide behind

a Frenchman is still a Frenchman

and we will beat him as we always have beaten him.

(cheering)

For there is no power on Earth

that can withstand the might of the British navy.

(cheering)

God save the King.

God save the King.

Midshipman Hornblower, sir.

You sent for me.

Mr. Simpson, as I'm sure you will be glad to hear

shall recover and rejoin the service.

However, he is to remain with Captain Keene aboard Justinian.

You should know, Mr. Hornblower

that I do not think much of men

who let others fight their battles for them.

No, sir.

But neither will I base my opinion of an officer on hearsay.

I judge a man by what I see him do

not what others tell me he has done.

Yes, sir.

Doubtless had you been properly led

this situation would not have arisen.

Captain Keene bears no blame.

It is not your place to damn him or defend him, sir.

No, sir, I, I meant only that what befell

was outside his control.

Aboard his ship, sir, there is nothing

outside a captain's control

and you would do well to remember it.

Yes, sir.

England is at war, Mr. Hornblower.

You have already cost this navy two midshipmen

one injured, one dead.

No one mourns Mr. Clayton's loss

more than I, sir, and I resent...

You resent!

Damn your impudence, sir!

I will not lose men to no better cause

than the satisfaction of their own vanity.

Whilst under my command

you will issue no further challenge.

Is that understood?

Aye, aye, sir.

Very well.

I have it from Lieutenant Eccleston

that those hands formerly of Mr. Simpson's division

are something of an ill-disciplined rabble.

Would you concur?

Yes, sir.

They are now your division.

We sail to battle, Mr. Hornblower.

I cannot afford to feed men who do not pull their weight.

You will make them work or you will answer for it.

Yes, sir.

Man: Divisions for inspection.

Name?

Stevens, sir.

Williams, sir.

Oldroyd, sir.

Matthews, sir.

Finch, sir.

Styles, sir.

What's the matter with your face?

Oh, he gets b...

Boils, sir.

Awful bad.

Have you done anything about them?

Oh, yes, sir.

Well?

I've put plasters on them, sir.

Very well. What's funny, Oldroyd?

Nothing, sir.

Matthews?

Nothing, sir.

All right.

Carry on.

About your work now.

Aye, aye, sir.

(raucous laughter, men yelling)

(squeaking)

Man: God, break his back.

(cheering, rat squeaking)

(laughter)

(man grunting)

Yes!

(rat screeching)

Man: Break his back.

Break his back.

Time.

Time, Styles!

Aye. I have five dead.

Pay all bets, evens or better.

Styles: Six.

Oldroyd: Five.

Men: Six!

There, that one's dead.

No, he ain't. Come on.

Look.

Yes, he is.

His back's broken.

Who is in charge here?

We're not on watch, sir.

No, you're gambling.

This is, uh...

now't but a bit of fun, sir.

It is hardly what you could call gambling.

There are other charges possible here, Matthews.

Other charges?

A member of His Majesty's forces

can be charged with rendering himself unfit for service.

Similarly there could be charges of aiding and abetting

which might include you.

I should consutt the articles of war.

The punishment for such an offense

is flogging round the fleet, I believe.

Styles: Really, sir.

I could bring charges

against every man jack of you.

You could be court-martialed, disrated, flogged.

And by God one more look like that from you, Styles

and I'll do it.

Belay that, mate.

You'd all be in irons

five minutes after I've spoke to Lieutenant Eccleston.

Mr. Simpson had no argument with our sport, sir.

Mr. Simpson is no longer in charge of your division.

I am.

And I'll have no more of these fitthy games.

Do you understand?

The next hint of misbehavior

and you'll all be at the gratings.

But, sir...

I've said it and I mean it!

After this, I want to see you in the dog watches

skylarking on deck

not skulking in the cable tiers like a lot of damned Frenchmen.

Are you going to tell Mr. Eccleston?

No...

Not this time.

I'm giving you a chance to prove yourselves worthy of my trust.

Aye, sir.

Right.

Now, get rid of those rats there.

Styles, get your face plastered up again.

Matthews, coil these cables down properly

before the boatswain sees it.

Oldroyd...

It was six.

Hands to quarters! Hands to quarters!

Enemy ship to larboard!

(men shouting)

Fire as they bare, Mr. Eccleston.

Aye, aye, sir.

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Lay us alongside, Mr. Bowles.

We can carry this action by boarding her.

Hard a' larboard.

Man: Hard a' larboard, sir.

(screaming)

Styles!

Help me get him to the surgery!

(continues screaming)

Come on, Davy!

(firing continues)

(men screaming, moaning)

This man needs help.

I'll tend to him presently.

Lieutenant Chadd, may I inquire

as to the nature of your injury, sir?

Splinter.

Sir, this man is from my division.

He'll take his turn!

Well, damn it, if he's not seen to now

he'll bleed to death!

Mr. Hornblower!

He's right, Hepplewhite.

I can wait.

Very well.

Come on, Styles.

We can do no more.

We must return to our station.

(men cheering, drums beating)

(screaming)

(cheering)

Did you see me?

Did you see?

Well, where were you?

We carried her by boarding.

I killed two.

Well, one, certainly.

Oh, you should have been there, Horatio.

You should have been there.

(cheering continues)

Eccleston: Through our Lord Jesus Christ

who, at his coming, shall change our vile body

that it may be like his glorious body

according to the mighty working

whereby he is able to submit all things to himself.

Therefore, in the sure and certain knowledge

of the resurrection, we commit the body of...

Davy Williams.

Of Davy Williams to the deep.

Amen.

(whistle blowing)

God have mercy on his soul.

Mr. Hornblower?

What is it, Styles?

The lads have, uh, they've asked me to...

say they value the effort you made on Davy's part, sir.

That was all.

Styles.

Sir?

Please convey my thanks to the men.

Their conduct in this afternoon's action

was exemplary.

Aye, aye, sir.

A salute.

Well, it's a start, I suppose.

Quel bateau?

Claudette, de Marseilles.

Qu'est ce que vous emporter?

Molasses, trois cents tons.

Claudette of Marseilles, sir.

Cargo?

Molasses, 300 tons.

Lieutenant Chadd.

Sir.

Take six men, board that vessel.

Take her into any English port you can make

and report there for orders.

Aye, aye, sir.

Mr. Bowles, the schooner to starboard.

Aye, sir.

Brace hard to larboard.

Hard to larboard, sir.

Bowles: Course full and by.

Full and by, sir.

Eccleston: She's still running under colors, sir.

It's not my intention to chase him across the seven seas.

He's asked for it, Mr. Eccleston

let him have it.

Starboard bow chaser... fire!

Fire!

(cheering)

Silence!

Not into the hull, damn it.

Cripple her.

That's better.

More like it.

She's hauling down her colors, sir.

Marie Galante de Bordeaux.

Pellew: Well, Mr. Eccleston?

Marie Galante of Bordeaux, sir.

24 days out of New Orleans with rice.

About 200 tons, I should say.

Should sell for a pretty penny.

How many of her crew?

12 at most.

Prize crew of four then, I should say.

Midshipman's command.

Mr. Hornblower!

Take four men, board her.

Mr. Bowles will give you our position.

Take her into any English port you can make

and report there for orders.

Aye, aye, sir.

Your first command.

My congratulations.

Pellew: Today, if you please, Mr. Hornblower.

I don't intend to lose any more of this convoy

through your dawdling, sir!

Aye, aye, sir.

Matthews: They've made best use of their time, sir

by the holy.

Finch: Drunk as lords.

Huh? Wish we were as happy, eh?

Where is your officer?

Midshipman Hornblower

of His Britannic Majesty's frigate, Indefatigable.

Good day.

This vessel is now a prize of war, Captain.

Under my command.

A midshipman?

You have no officer more senior?

Sir, to the British navy a schooner such as this

warrants no more than a midshipman's command.

But your are no more than a boy.

You will find, sir

that even a boy in His Majesty's navy

is capable of an easy two-day run to England.

(scoffs)

Put that down, Styles.

At once, do you hear?

And take these men forward.

Throw them into the forecastle.

Come alongee, Frenchie.

Um, this-a way-a?

Come on.

All right, move.

I am an officer.

I do not go with the men.

Sir?

He goes with the rest.

You, come on.

Go on, move!

Prisoners secured, sir.

Matthews?

Aye, sir.

You've the longest service?

Aye, sir; 18 years, sir.

Very well.

I'll rate you petty officer.

Aye, aye, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Get to work and clear that raffle away forward

so that we can sling the topsail yard again.

Aye, sir.

Finch.

Haul in the forecastle sheets.

Aye, sir.

Styles.

Oldroyd.

All right, all right.

I'll be busy aft.

Aye, aye, sir.

And get that staycastle in

before it flogs itself to pieces.

Aye, aye, sir.

Well, what are you waiting for?

Those are my orders.

Beg pardon, sir, but if we're to sling that yard again

We'll need to use the jeers, sir.

Yes?

Well, sir we'll need more hands

Than we have to use the jeers, sir.

Can I put some of them frenchies to work?

That was my intention, of course.

If any of them are sober enough.

I think we can get them to work, sir

drunk or sober.

Come on.

God.

What do I do now?

Damn.

(man shouting in French)

Oui, oui...

(replies in French)

Matthews?

Aye, aye.

We'll, um, square away.

Then return the prisoners to the forecastle.

Aye, aye, sir.

Square away!

Return the prisoners to the forecastle!

Matthews, take the wheel.

Aye, aye, sir.

What course, sir?

Nor'west by west a quarter west.

Nor'west by west a quarter west, it is, sir.

(cannon fire)

Not into the hull, damn it!

Cripple her!

My God, she's holed.

(gasping)

She's holed, all right.

About two feet below the waterline.

Thank you, Styles.

She was close hauled

and heeling right over when we hit her.

Her bows must have lifted just as the Indy fired.

She's lower in the water now, sir.

The hole's not so deep under, sir.

On this tack we're headed for France.

We must fother a sail and get it over that hole.

Use and old t'gallant, get the Frenchman to help.

Aye, aye, sir.

She's riding a bit heavily, no?

She's taking a little water, yes.

A foul wind for England, monsieur.

Winds may change, monsieur.

So they say.

Matthews: Sir, she's riding a bit heavily now.

Yes, thank you, Matthews.

Captain: I just said so to your captain.

Well, so much then for your easy two-day's run to England.

Sir?

What is it?

The deck seam's opening up!

I've never seen anything like it, sir.

It's the rice.

Sir?

The cargo, Matthews.

We're carrying rice.

The water's got into it and it's swelling.

The sooner we get a sail

over that hole the better.

Hurry these damned Frenchmen up!

Matthews: Come on, mademoiselles.

We're not sewing petticoats.

(speaking French)

I told you I thought she was riding heavily.

Go to the devil.

(gasping)

Another few feet.

There!

All right, sir.

Right. Lay her back on a larboard tack.

Aye, aye, sir.

This is folly, monsieur.

On this tack we could easily make Bordeaux.

You're risking all our lives.

Look.

Look there, sir.

What?

I don't think our problem's the hole, sir.

The rice must have forced her seams open

under the water.

(rats squeaking)

We must jettison the cargo.

Get the sails in and rig a tackle from the yard.

We'll sway it up.

Aye, aye, sir.

Oh, heave!

C'est une pure folie, monsieur.

Est-ce que vous vous rendez compte de ce que vous faites?

Madness! This is madness!

We must have moved about 50 tons.

My men are exhausted!

She's lower in the water, sir.

Settling fast.

Another hour, we'll be swimming.

It's no go, sir.

I'm sorry.

I shall make preparations for abandoning the ship.

Sir?

You heard me.

Get water and bread onto the ship's boat

and get everyone aboard.

Aye, aye, sir.

We shall abandon the ship, monsieur.

Enfin!

Venez, vous autres.

(creaking)

Ready to shove off, sir.

Very good. I'll be up presently.

Begging your pardon, sir.

But you should see as you have some warm clothes, sir.

I've been in an open boat, ten days once, sir.

It can get damn cold.

Yes. Thank you, Matthews.

Is everyone off?

All save yourself, sir.

Come aboard, sir.

She's done for.

Steady.

Matthews, take the tiller.

Aye, aye, sir.

Get off.

Bear off.

Poussez!

She's going down, sir.

(seagulls cawing)

Breakfast, sir?

Thank you, Matthews.

Wind's backing a little westerly today, sir.

Hornblower: That so?

There's a chance we might find the Indefatigable again

isn't there?

This is her hunting ground, after all.

We'll make sail.

Very good, sir.

Finch, take the sheet.

Aye, sir.

Styles, take the tiller.

Keep her close-hauled on the larboard tack.

Close-hauled on the larboard tack, sir.

French captain: The wind's still fair for Bordeaux.

We could be there by tomorrow.

Why do we sail northwest?

We go to England.

This is going to take us a week.

Even if the wind's still fair.

The, the boat's too crowded.

Should there be a storm...

you are risking all our lives.

I insist that you head towards Bordeaux.

Matthews, take this.

Aye, aye, sir.

Begging your pardon, sir

but hadn't you better cock your pistol?

Monsieur, I was in a stinking English prison for five years

so let's make an agreement.

Let's go to France.

No.

When we reach shore

anywhere you choose, we will land.

And you may continue your journey.

No.

Monsieur.

I said no!

Shall I clout him on the jaw, sir?

Not unless he misbehaves.

Put that pistol away.

It's dangerous.

I will do nothing to interfere with your command of this boat.

Do you swear it?

I swear it.

And your men?

Ce n'est pas le moment, mes garcons.

Nous attendrons notre heure.

All: D'accord, mon capitaine.

What do they say?

They swear it, too.

Very well.

(gulls cawing)

Both hands, you fool!

That water's got to last until we reach England!

Or do you want us all to die of thirst?

Lay down your arms!

Now!

Do as he says.

But, sir...

Do it!

(speaking French)

Vite!

I'm sorry, sir.

It's all right, Finch.

Thank you, sir, thank you.

Est-ce qu'on les jette par-dessus bord?

Non! Lache-le.

My men are in mind of throwing you overboard, monsieur.

But I think you deserve some time to reflect

on your own stupidity.

Monsieur?

As I told you

I have spent five long years

in one of your country's fine prison hulks

and I'm grateful now

for an opportunity to return the courtesy.

The chart and compass, if you please.

Fish for it.

(shouting in French)

As you were, Styles!

That was a foolish thing to do, boy.

I might have killed you.

And forgo the pleasure of crowing over my discomfort?

I think not.

Nevertheless, it was a futile act.

All I have to do to gain France

is to turn this boat about through 180 degrees

and then sail southeast.

If you can find it.

Oh, I can read a chart, monsieur.

I only need the sun

and the polestar for reference.

A feat of navigation even you might manage.

(speaking French)

Vous fermez la aussi, vous autres!

Vous verrai bien quand on arrivera.

Je suis votre capitaine.

What's to do, sir?

A crisis of confidence, Styles.

Forget's men are complaining, and rightly so

that we should be in sight of the coast by now.

Well, where is it, though, sir?

He said he had only to follow the chart.

So he did.

But that would presuppose

that our position upon the chart was accurately plotted.

(giggles)

Shh!

Nine against five.

The odds of them gaining the upper hand

were always favorable.

It would be a poor captain that did not take precautions

against such an eventuality.

So, where've you got our true position, then, sir?

In my head, Matthews.

We were sailing north, not northwest

when they seized control.

Forget simply turned us about.

Then we're headed south, not southeast?

Indeed, Styles.

We're rowing parallel with the coast but getting no closer.

(laughs softly)

Now you may see how the tree of indiscipline bears fruit.

(arguing in French)

Ow!

An interesting situation, monsieur.

Oldroyd: Sail to windward!

Styles: It's the Indy!

It's the Indy, sir.

Matthews: Thank God it is!

(cheering, shouting)

Right, that's the last one, lads.

Take him away, lock him up.

Je suis capitaine!

(cheering)

So, I'll tell you what he does.

He drops the compass over the side, plop.

"Fish for it," says he.

Bold as brass!

He did.

And him with the pistol in his face.

The frog captain says...

Here he comes, lads.

Oh, I'll tell you later.

Step lively now.

Well done, sir.

Well done, sir.

(bell ringing)

Pellew: Mr. Hornblower.

The Marie Galante was damaged when you boarded her.

And had you had a larger prize-crew

you might have been able to save her.

No. Better by far

that France was deprived of her cargo

than England should benefit by it.

Still, it's fortunate for you

her captain was so poor a navigator, hmm?

Else we might never have found you.

No, sir.

Sail to leeward!

Make sail before we lose her!

Aye, aye, sir.

(man shouting)

(cannon echoes in distance)

Pellew: Damn this fog.

(cannons booming softly)

Hornblower: That's one of ours.

God, the Frenchman.

Ship to starboard!

(men yelling)

Pellew: She'll hide in the fog!

After her, Mr. Bowles!

Aye, aye, sir.

Starboard, two points.

Man: Starboard, two points, sir.

Pellew: We're losing her, damn it.

(men groaning in pain)

Silence!

(softly): Where is she?

Where is she?

There she is!

Now we have her!

(cannons firing)

(cannonballs whistling)

(men yelling and groaning)

(men screaming in pain)

(cannonballs whistling)

Mr. Bowles, we're in over our heads.

Take her out of range of their shore batteries.

Aye, aye, captain.

(whistle blowing)

Mr. Eccleston, what was the ship you saw afire?

I couldn't see, sir.

One of ours, though, certainly.

Launch boats, pick up survivors.

Aye, aye, sir.

Man: Help!

(men yelling in the water)

Help!

Over here!

Sir, help us!

Courage, boys!

You're safe now.

Keep shouting, we'll find you!

Man (in water): Here! Here!

There they are, sir.

(coughing)

Hold water.

Come on, lads.

(man sputters and coughs)

Up with ye, lads.

Easy.

Give him this and keep him warm.

Well.

Mr. Hornblower.

The Papillon jumped us from the fog.

Every time we thought we knew where she might come from

she, she came at us from somewhere else.

It was like there were four ships, not one.

Poor Captain Keene.

I was standing with him when he was hit.

Tore...

Tore his insides out, and...

(weeping)

Yes, all right, Mr. Simpson.

Please, do not distress yourself even further.

(sniffles)

Mr. Bowles, the chart, if you please.

The mouth of the Gironde.

The Papillon lies just here

between the shore batteries of St. Di and Blaye.

You, gentlemen, will go in with the boats and cut her out.

Lieutenant Eccleston will be in general command.

Mr. Eccleston.

As you have seen at firsthand

she is a ship of war

well armed and fully crewed.

(voice fading): But we will be attacking her

at night, taking her by surprise...

Simpson: Kennedy! Acquaint young Snotty here

(echoing): With the way of things.

Mr. Chadd will command the gig.

Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Hornblower, the jolly boat.

Mr. Bowles?

High water tomorrow is at 4:50.

Dawn is at 5:30.

(fading): The attack will...

Simpson (echoing): So what's your dirty little secret?

Is it that your mother earns her living on her back?

Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Hornblower

board as you see fit

and at once ascend the main rigging.

You will insure that the main topsail is loosed

and sheeted home on receipt of further orders.

I, myself, or Mr. Bowles

in the event of my being killed or wounded...

Simpson: Hornblower!

I'm not finished with you yet, boy.

I'm going to flay you alive.

Kennedy!

I said wake Hornblower, not the whole damn ship.

You mean the little coward

(echoing): Has pissed himself.

So much for the theory.

Any questions, gentlemen?

Simpson: Sir.

I would like to volunteer to go in with the boats.

If you think you're up to it, Mr. Simpson.

Lieutenant Eccleston?

We will be glad to have you, Mr. Simpson.

You will go in with Mr. Hornblower

and Mr. Kennedy.

Hello, Archie.

It's been a long time.

Jack's missed you, boy.

We were just catching up on old times, Mr. Hornblower.

These are new times, Mr. Simpson.

You have no hold over us here.

No.

No. I see that.

Time we were away, Archie.

Nervous?

Archie?

Boat crews, away.

(groans)

(thumps)

Mind what you're doing, sir, mind.

What's going on?

Mr. Kennedy, sir.

He's having a fit.

Mr. Hornblower, keep your boat quiet.

Aye, aye, sir.

(Kennedy groans)

Oh...

(whispers): Shut up.

Archie, for mercy, shut up!

(yells)

Do something.

Sir!

(whispers): I know, I know!

(muffled yelping)

Mr. Hornblower.

(moaning)

(yelping)

(thumps)

(yelping stops)

(men speaking French)

(speaking French)

(yells)

(grunting)

(all yelling)

(swords clanging)

(guns firing)

Mr. Hornblower, get your men aloft!

Quickly now!

Loose the main topsail!

Aye, aye, sir!

Styles, Matthews, lay aloft!

Come on, men!

Come on, me boys!

Stevens, wait!

(yelling)

(thumps)

There are no foot ropes.

What'll we do, sir?

What'll we do?

Mr. Eccleston.

The forecastle is secured, sir.

Thank you, Mr. Chadd.

Damn it, why does he delay?

If Hornblower doesn't loose the sails, the attack fails!

Styles, Matthews, starboard yard.

Finch, Oldroyd, follow me.

Damn, damn, damn.

Good God.

Quickly now, quickly.

(grunts, gags)

Well done!

Archie?

Oh!

(echoing): Sir!

Mr. Chadd's compliments, sir.

The ship is ours.

God be praised.

My compliments to Mr. Hornblower.

I'm afraid Mr. Hornblower is dead, sir.

I saw him fall from the yard myself.

Ahoy there, Papillon!

Help, help!

Help!

Papillon!

(bell ringing)

Pellew: No sign of the Papillon?

They must have cut her out by now.

Sail to windward!

My God.

French corvettes.

(seagulls cawing)

Finch: It's not too deep.

Head wounds always bleed terrible bad, sir.

I expect it hurts like the devil

but... you'll mend

Praise the Lord.

What about Mr. Kennedy?

He was, um...

He was still in the boat.

She came adrift when we went about, sir.

That's what Mr. Simpson said.

I swear you were born to hang, Mr. Hornblower.

It's a good thing these French are such a poor shot.

French be damned.

I was shot by Mr. Simpson.

That is a serious accusation, Mr. Hornblower

and one I trust you would not make

without the evidence to support it?

I have the evidence of my own eyes, sir.

This is hardly the time or place

to do anything about it.

Get back to your division, Mr. Hornblower.

I will address the matter

when we get back to the Indefatigable.

(screaming)

(men screaming in agony)

Oh, my eyes!

Oh!

Chadd?

It's Mr. Hornblower, sir.

Surgeon! Surgeon!

Where's Mr. Chadd?

I regret that Lieutenant Chadd is dead, sir.

(sighs)

The ship is yours, Mr. Hornblower.

Sir?

Take command.

Get us back to the Indy.

(whispers): Safely.

(cannon fires)

(sniffs)

I'm senior here.

The ship is mine.

Lieutenant Eccleston instructed me to take command.

You heard him, Mr. Bowles.

Mr. Simpson is senior, Mr. Hornblower.

Styles, Matthews, confine Mr. Simpson below.

You heard me!

Mr. Simpson is under close arrest.

Who do you think you are?

I have command here!

This ship is mine.

And any man...

any man stands against me...

he will regret it.

Now, get to work shoring up this damage.

Get back to work, do you hear?

I have command!

Mr. Bowles.

You will carry out my orders.

If Mr. Simpson resists, you have my permission to shoot him.

Come on.

(men screaming)

Helmsman, hard to starboard!

Hard to starboard, sir!

Sir, the Papillon!

My God.

It is the Papillon.

Mother of God.

Mr. Bowles, engage the corvette to larboard.

Engage? Sir, we can't take on three French corvettes.

We can give the Indy an even chance.

We've a third of her crew aboard this vessel.

If the French get close enough to board her, she's finished.

Aye, aye, sir.

Why don't they fire at us, sir?

It may have escaped your notice, Mr. Bowles

but we are still flying French colors.

Shall I have them run down, sir?

If you want me to shoot you, by all means.

It goes against all articles of war to...

When we have leisure, you show me where it is written

and I will gladly concede the point.

Until that time, please confine yourself

to following my orders.

Aye, aye, sir.

Ready...

Pull!

Pull!

(cheering)

Fire!

(cheers)

Fire as you bear!

Starboard side!

Starboard side!

Ready, pull!

Pull!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

My God.

The poor devils.

(cheering)

Mr. Hornblower!

(drums playing)

They're surrendering, sir.

They are surrendering!

Three cheers, lads!

Hip, hip...

All: Hooray!

Hip, hip... hooray!

Launch boats to pick up survivors, Matthews.

Aye, aye, sir.

Launch boats!

Mr. Bowles...

You may raise the ensign.

(whistle blowing)

Timely, Mr. Hornblower.

Timely.

I, uh, take it by your appearance

Lieutenant Eccleston is indisposed?

I regret to inform you, sir

that Lieutenant Eccleston is dead.

Lieutenant Chadd is also among the fallen.

I see.

(clears throat)

Who then, had command of the Papillon during the action?

The honor fell to me, sir.

How so?

What of Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Simpson?

Mr. Kennedy was left behind

after the boarding of the Papillon.

And Mr. Simpson?

It's a damn lie, sir!

Begging your pardon.

But he's had it in for me

ever since that incident in Spithead.

Mr. Simpson, are you saying Mr. Hornblower

brought this charge against you purely out of malice?

He's impeached my honor, sir

and for that I demand satisfaction.

There, you see?

He's afraid.

Mr. Simpson.

I would be very wary of calling a man

only lately distinguished in battle, a coward.

Oh, I do call him a coward.

And a liar.

If he spoke the truth

he would not hesitate to face me.

Mr. Hornblower's reluctance to accept this challenge

is I fear, the resutt of an order I gave him

when he first came aboard Indefatigable.

Is that not so?

Yes, sir.

Mr. Hornblower, I remove that impediment

but I must caution you

against accepting this challenge.

I maintain the charge against Mr. Simpson, sir.

However, since I cannot prove it other than with my body

I have no choice but to accept his challenge.

For the last time, gentlemen

cannot you be reconciled?

I'm going to kill you, Snotty

just as I killed Clayton.

And your little pal, Archie.

Kennedy?

Very well.

You may step out the distance.

And one...

two, three, four, five.

Are you ready?

One...

Two...

I did not say fire, sir!

It just went off.

It's a misfire, I assure you.

Is he dead?

Did I kill him?

No, you did not.

(groans)

Mr. Hornblower, you may return fire at will.

I shot him. The duel is over.

You must stand your ground and take fire, Mr. Simpson.

Don't shoot!

No!

For the love of God, please, don't shoot!

Don't shoot me!

I beg you!

You're not worth the powder.

Not worth the powder.

(shouting)

(gun fires)

Exceptionally fine shot, sir.

If I may say so, sir.

You may, Mr. Bowles.

You may.

(whistle blowing)

Man: Walk away with it, lads.

Sir?

Ah, Mr. Hornblower.

You have fought your duel.

That is well.

Never fight another.

That is better.

I owe you a debt of gratitude, sir.

I dispensed justice as I saw fit.

I told you, Mr. Hornblower.

I judge a man by what I see him do.

Nevertheless, you saved my life.

As you saved the life

of every man aboard this ship, sir.

Come on, man.

No false modesty now.

I see something in you, Mr. Hornblower.

If you continue in this service

as you've begun, a great future awaits you.

Thank you, sir.

Carry on, Mr. Hornblower.

Aye, aye, sir.

Styles.

Coil those cables down properly now.

Aye, aye, sir.

Matthews, lend a hand there.