All language subtitles for In.the.Heart.of.the.Sea.2015

"How does one come
to know the unknowable"?

What faculties must a man possess?

Since it was discovered that whale oil

could light our cities
in ways never achieved before,

it created global demand.

It has pushed man to venture
further and further

into the deep blue unknown.

We know not its depths,

nor the host of creatures
that live there.

Monsters.

Are they real?

Or do the stories exist only to make us
respect the sea's dark secrets?

The question both vexes and excites me

and is the reason
I've written you a second time

to request a meeting.

A conversation with you, sir,
I believe will serve me well

for the novel I intend to write,

currently entitled "Moby Dick."

I hope you will reconsider my offer.

The unknown.

That is where my imagination
yearns to venture.

And so the question plagues me still.

"How does a man come to know
the unknowable"?

Sincerely, Herman Melville.

We're closed.

No boarders after 8:00.

You came.

Someone here for you, my love.

Tom Nickerson?

Herman Melville.

We received your letter.

You're either a desperate man

or a fool to come
all the way to Nantucket.

Well, my offer still stands.

Three months' lodgings
for a single night's talk.

All I have in the world.

But I prefer to think of it
as an investment.

I want you to tell me
what happened to the "Essex."

What do you think happened?

There are rumblings.
Rumors that the "Essex" was...

What do you want?

What story do you expect to hear?

That of the whale.

The "Essex" ran aground.
There was a full inquiry.

I believe the inquiry
was less than truthful.

Get out.

You are the last survivor
of the "Essex," sir.

If you won't talk, who will?

Did you not hear me? Leave. Now.

- No. You mustn't go. Please.
- He is in no mind to talk.

And I haven't come all this way
to be humiliated and waste my time.

Please, Mr. Melville.

He won't talk about the "Essex" to me.

To anyone. Never has. Never.

There's an agony about him.

His soul is in torment,

and in need of confession.

Please, just let me talk to him.

Please.

Love.

I believe it would do you good
to talk to the man.

No.

You listen well.

Who holds this place together
while you drink yourself to death?

You will talk with this man

as much as is necessary to keep the money.

You know our circumstances, Thomas.

Only as much as is necessary.

I'll get whiskey.

I neglected to mention it
in my letter,

but I was a whaler once.

One trip, I mean.

Green hand.

So, you've seen it all.

My wife read your books.

She enjoyed them.

I'm happy to hear it.

I've had good sales.

And I think this story
could surpass the success

of even my first novel,
which did quite well.

Another of your seafaring yarns?

Have you read Hawthorne, Mr. Melville?

Now there's a writer.

Great writer.

He is.

But he is not here. And I am.

For my own particular reasons.

I will tell you of the "Essex."

I believe you will be disappointed.

But every word I say will be true.

Story of the "Essex"
is the story of two men.

Captain George Pollard and his first mate,

Owen Chase.

Owen. You don't wanna be late.

I'll be there.

Besides, can't have our daughter
sleeping under a leaky roof, can we?

What makes you so sure it's a girl?

Well, it has to be.

So she can remind me

why I still love you
when you're being stubborn.

Well, if it's to be a daughter,
she'll be a version of you, not me.

Blond locks and determined
to conquer the world.

I suppose after today,

you'll be trading in
that tunic for a uniform.

That's right.

Finally out of this patch of dirt,

into a captain's house like you deserve.

I don't need one of those houses
in town with stuffy neighbors.

There's plenty of room here
for the three of us.

You know, sometimes your kind heart
and good nature

is just unbearable.

Go get your captaincy.

- What's your bid?
- I'll have $1.90.

I've got 1.000 gallons at $2!

I'll take 40 shares!

Seller! Seller! Over here!

Criterion's back with a fine haul.

1.600 barrels.

A new record.

£50 sterling for head matter
on the London market.

Congratulations.

- Good morning, Mr. Chase.
- Mr. Mason.

Come in, please.

My partner, Benjamin Fuller.

Good morning, sir.

Do sit down.

Mr. Chase.

I do hope you realize how satisfied we are

with the work you've done for us
over the years.

Thank you, sir.

Now, one of our ships, the "Essex,"

has just been refitted at great expense

and is to go to sea.

Now, having made
such an investment in her,

we want to be sure
she's in the best possible hands.

So, it gives us great pleasure
to offer you a position aboard her.

As first mate.

As first mate?

Mmm-hmm.

Mr. Mason, you promised me
command of a ship after my last voyage

when I brought you back 1.500 barrels.

Do you remember?
You gave me your word.

That promise must now be deferred.

Like everyone else,
we've had a lean time recently.

No, never on my watch.

Nantucket now dominates the world market.

That must not change.

This is no time for experimentation.

The "Essex" will be captained
by George Pollard,

scion of a great whaling family.

His father also happens to be our patron.

Blood, Mr. Chase.

You can have all the voyages
under your belt you want,

but blood will always win out.

Yes, well, blood is not gonna fill
a ship with oil, Mr. Mason.

To successfully command,
a captain needs respect.

Now, what if the men don't respect him?

You will make sure that they do.

Ah, good day, gentlemen.

I understand your disappointment,

so, a one-fifteenth lay.

That's more than
I've ever paid any first officer.

And if you bring back
2.000 barrels of oil,

I give you my word,

next time, you will have your captaincy.

You've given me
your word before, Mr. Mason.

No, this time, I'll take it in writing.

Captain Pollard.

We've just had a most
agreeable conversation with Mr. Chase.

He'll be honored to serve under you.

I'm glad to hear it.

Now I'm to babysit a greenhorn.

Some chinless Nantucketer

born with a damn silver spoon
in his mouth.

You know, I should've thrown
the offer back in their faces.

Why? You now have
the offer of command in writing.

Yes, well, a liar's word is worthless,

even on paper.

You know, I'd love you just as much
if you were a merchant captain.

And you wouldn't be gone for two years.

I won't be gone two years.

A Bedford whaler came back
last week who was gone three.

She lost two men
and still with her hull half empty.

Yeah, well, they were from Bedford,

and they didn't have me on board.

Son of a bitch!

I will captain my own ship!

A whaling ship.

Up to them, all we'd ever have
is this patch of dirt,

and that's not gonna happen, Peggy.

Those are your father's words, not yours.

What's wrong with his words?

He wanted things
for his family, for himself.

He was a dreamer, Owen.

Yes, he was.

Dreamed of the sea
and never got to sail it

because of men like them.

At least he got to see his children born.

It's all I know.

I'm sorry.

I married a whaleman.

Hey.

I'll come back as quick
as a summer's night, I swear.

Just come back.

Promise me.

I already swore to you.
Now you want me to promise, too?

I promise.

Son, a word with you.

To be a captain, you cannot be a friend.

You are their superior.

Never forget that.
Never let them forget that.

Thank you, sir.

Your great-grandfather and a few others
created this industry.

Without us, without you,
the world plunges into darkness.

I hope to bring honor to
the Pollard family name, sir.

Thou didst, O Lord,
create the mighty whale.

That wondrous monster
of a mighty length.

Beyond conception
his unmeasured strength.

But, everlasting God,
thou dost ordain.

That we, poor feeble mortals
should engage.

Ourselves, our wives
and children to maintain.

This dreadful monster
with a martial rage.

O Father, grant that your glorious light
shine on these men.

Ensure them a prosperous voyage,

that they may return safely
and with a full ship,

so that the white flames
of Nantucket whale oil

may continue to keep light in our homes,

city streets safe from sin in the night,

and to fuel the machines of industry

that drive our great nation forward

as our noble species evolves.

In your name, we pray.

- So, what month was this?
- Late in the year.

We were one of the last ships to go out,

which is why my friend
Barzillai and I got a berth.

You know, I was 14.

Fourteen.

Nickerson, you're standing
around, boy. Move!

First time to sea.
Scared, but more scared to show it.

Barzillai was 17.

Orphans. Grew up on the wharf.

Both in a hurry to be called men.

Grubs, what are those pins
they're wearing?

They're whale pins, Thomas.

How do I get one of them?

Well, you gotta thrust the killing lance

into the largest beast that
ever breathed on this Earth.

Nickerson, get the green stuff
to Mr. Bond, there.

Make it quick, damn it.

I shall have 12 of those one day.

Windlass is ready
and sails are loose, sir.

Mr. Joy,
this is only half my order!

Put them over the ground tier casks.

Well, well, you being on board
means only one thing.

Yeah, at least there's
one person on this ship

who knows the truth about Owen Chase.

No, that all the other ships
have already crewed up.

Now, now.

I'm a reformed man, Owen.

Question is, are you?

Don't tell me Matthew Joy's
put down the bottle.

Dry as sand.

Has Owen Chase put down his temper?

Ah, serene as the church.

I'll believe that when I see it.

And given our captain,

I'll give your serenity about 48 hours?

Good luck.

Pollard. George Pollard.

Owen Chase.

"Chase."
That's an off-island name, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

And very shortly, we will be
off-island for some time,

and I'll be very much at home.

Must say I was surprised.

Normally, a captain gets
to choose his first mate.

An experienced captain, yes.

'Course, you can understand
from the owners' point of view,

they want to feel their investment's
in the hands of men.

Indeed.

They probably want a little
extra reassurance, that's all.

Well, do keep an eye on me

and let me know
if I'm doing anything wrong.

Oh, I know no other way, Captain.

Hmm.

Mr. Chase, haul short the anchor.

Yank to the wind! There's topmen aloft.

- Aye!
- Mr. Lawrence, take the helm.

- Aye, sir.
- Mr. Joy, make sail.

Mr. Cole! Mr. Chappel!
Stand by the spanker.

Set your fore staysail
and your fore and main topsails.

Come on, look lively, you lads.

Come on, Nickerson!
While we're young!

Let fall clews
and bunts and sheet ho!

Set topsails and topgallants.

- Heave away on the windlass.
- Heave away on the windlass.

Set topgallants.

Let go clew lines and sheet ho!

There's a snarl in the gasket, sir.

Mr. Chappel, take the helm.

It won't clear, Mr. Chase!

Come on! Why aren't those braces laid out?

Mr. Ray, where are my headsails?

Aye, sir!

Crank away on the windlass!

Crank away on the windlass, sir!

Nickerson, pull!

Make sail, God damn it!

God and all of Nantucket
is watching, men.

Anchor's trim!

Captain! Head down!

Mind your head, Captain.

What's the matter, Mr. Sheppard?

Gasket's fouled the sheet, sir.

It won't clear, Mr. Chase!

Topgallant sheet is jammed!

The gasket still won't clear!

We don't have enough sail on yet.

Still won't clear!

Watch your step!

It's the gasket, Owen!

Stand clear.

Whoa! Bloody hell!

- Let fall your course!
- Heave!

Make fast!

Nice piece of work, Mr. Chase.

If we make Cape Verdes
in the next two weeks,

we'll have a decent chance
of reaching the Pacific on schedule.

Corn, Mr. Chase?

Oh, no, thank you, sir.

Never did have much of a taste for it.

That's odd.

Told your father grew corn on Cape Cod.

That's right. He did.

As you can imagine,

I certainly grew tired
of eating it every day.

Corn.

- Okra. Beans, I believe?
- Mmm-hmm.

Before he went to jail.

Are you familiar with this story, Mr. Joy?

Sir?

Were you aware that

Mr. Chase was effectively orphaned
due to his father's incarceration?

Well, we all have our own paths to sea.

As a rule, we tend
not to ask too many questions.

Hmm.

Can't have been easy, though.

Yet

you had Nantucket's great seafaring family
to adopt you.

This is far from the first time

I've been called a landsman
or an off-islander

by some Nantucketer,

reminding me how I am not
a part of that family.

Now, if the Captain will excuse me,

there are whaleboats
and watches to assign.

No, sir. Not for me.

- Not a drop?
- No, sir.

Like I said,

sometimes the fewer questions one asks,
the better.

Serve that food up.

Getting this
slop on the first day?

Cheap bastards. Where's the meat?

That's a gorgeous girl,
Mr. Chappel.

A vision of beauty, that.
Carved on a varnished whale bone.

- Let me have a touch.
- Don't touch.

I thought you were married, anyway.

I am, and there she is.

Well, that's her nose, anyway.

Congratulations, ladies.

That was a fine job trimming sails today.

A sorrier pack of deck wallopers
I don't think I've ever seen.

Mr. Chappel.

- Sir!
- You're Captain's harpooner.

Mr. Lawrence, you'll be mine.

Aye, sir.

And Mr. Peterson.

Second mate's harpooner.

Aye, sir.

There'll be six men to a boat.

First drills are tomorrow.
Six bells sharp.

We're not even east of Halifax, sir.

What's your name?

Coffin. Henry Coffin.

He's the Captain's cousin, sir.

Well, well, Mr. Coffin.

You think a whale knows
if it's east of Halifax?

I don't know who all of you are
or how you got here.

Some of you probably have felonies to hide
and you're on the run.

That's fine. I don't give a damn.

But in return, you exist for one thing

and one thing only.

And that is whale oil.

I intend to fill our 2.000 barrels

and be home as quickly as possible.

And even when the weather is fine

and there are no whales, Mr. Coffin,

we will lower the boats
and practice all maneuvers

necessary in the capture of a whale.

And any man who is idle
will find himself swimming home.

Is that understood?

Aye, sir.

Sir.

Greenhorn.

On deck.

On you go.

Aye, aye, landsman.

Thomas Nickerson, right?

Aye, sir.

You know, some feel sick at first.

Please, pull me back up!

Best way to square it
with King Neptune, boy!

Please bring me up!

Better now?

Ah, shit.

Sir, I am so sorry.

Well, now you got something
to write home to your mother about.

My mother's buried up in Smith's Hill.

There's a stone for my father, too.

He was lost at sea before I was born.

Here, give me that.

Well, this is your family now, boy.

For better or for worse.

Worse, mostly.

Swab the deck, kid.

Dogwatch! You're gonna learn
what it takes to be whalers today, mates.

Aye, sir!

You led that line wrong, Nickerson.

Aye, sir.

We'll stay at this
till sundown if we have to.

Aye, Mr. Joy, sir!

Main topsail leech lines!

Harpooner, make ready to boat!

- Aye, sir!
- Aye, Mr. Joy!

Go main topsail leech lines.

Too slow, you damn coofs!

The bailing piggins.

You will learn
every inch of this ship

- before you return to your bunks.
- Aye, sir!

Sweat that line, Barz.

You need to move quicker, Mr. Ray.

Aye, Mr. Chase.

Ain't no greenhorns
no more, Mr. Chase.

You're a sailor now!

Not bad, Mr. Ray. Well done.

- Forecourse bunts!
- Aye, sir.

Get used to it, lads.
You're gonna work like horses.

Mr. Chase?

Sir.

Set stunsails.

Is that wise, sir?
We're nearing the Gulf Stream.

Best keep it five knots
till we can see the weather.

We are two days behind.

We need to make up the time
if we're to catch the easterlies.

Set stunsails.

- Set stunsails.
- Aye, Mr. Chase!

- Come on, move.
- Belay that! Set stunsails!

Get aloft, Mr. Coffin.

- The captain wants speed.
- Aye, sir.

Look for braces, lads.

- Trim for speed.
- Aye, sir.

Set fore the main topsail
and topgallant stunsails, men. Move it.

Make fast your stunsail halyard.

Make fast stunsail halyard, sir.

Stunsail boom ready, sir!

Bracing fore topsail, sir.

Hey!

The captain's got us moving now!

We're finally getting somewhere!

She may be old,
but she can still roll, boys!

Sir, a squall on the starboard bow.

We must shorten sail immediately.

Not just yet, Mr. Chase.

Sir, we are headed into a squall
at more than 8 knots,

and it's moving faster than that.

Let it come.
The men are soft from months on land.

They need a good baptism.

Let them know our work has begun.

If we don't shorten sail and bear off,
it'll catch us on the beam.

Mr. Chase, we will stand on.

Mr. Lawrence?

Hold our course.

Holding course, sir.

We'll lose half a day running
like that. We'll skirt the edge of it.

If the men can't handle a gust like this,
then God help us all.

Best secure for heavy weather.

Rough weather coming up, boys.

Get this deck secure.

Double gripes on the boats!

Best prepare for weather, Mr. Bond.

We're headed into a squall.

Secure the main hatch!

She's moving fast!

We must fall off and run with it.

We will stand on, Mr. Chase.

Mr. Lawrence!

- Hold your course.
- Holding course, sir.

Sea's coming aboard!

Hold on!

Shorten sail, Mr. Chase!

- Climb to weather and grab the shrouds!
- Climb to weather!

Get to windward and hold on!

- We need to get those sails down!
- Go lee!

Nickerson, hold fast!

Hold steady lines!

Hold fast!

Turn the ship!

Turn to leeward!

No! The damage is done!

- Strike topgallants. Let fly sheets!
- No, turn the ship!

Veer off, Mr. Lawrence.

It's too late! It's too goddamn late!

- We'll be broadsided!
- Turn this ship!

- Hold on!
- Turn!

Strike those damn topgallants!

Hold on!

Look out!

Mr. Joy!

- We have to cut away the topgallants!
- Topgallants away!

We have to get her upright!

You wish to see me, sir?

At six bells tomorrow,

you will assemble the crew.

Inform them that we will be returning
to Nantucket for repairs.

You will then apologize to them

for interfering with a captain's order,

which nearly cost the lives
of every man on this ship today.

What?

I'll accept your resignation
upon our return to port.

That will be all.

- It was your order to set stunsails, sir.
- That decision was sound.

The men needed testing.

So you send them into a storm?

That was unlucky.

No, it was bad seamanship.

And blaming misfortune
is just plain weakness.

Damn your impertinence!

Do you know who you're speaking to?

My name is Captain George Pollard.

Pollard!

And you, Mr. Chase,
no matter how many whale pins

you may have on your lapel,

are nothing more than the son of a farmer

who's managed to bully his way
into an officer's tunic.

Now get out.

To return to port
without a single barrel of oil

would be a mistake, sir.

And not behoove a man
whose name is Pollard.

Or Chase, for that matter.

And the best thing for both of us

would be to work all hours God sends us,

fill this ship with oil
and be home inside a year

and rid of one another
as quickly as possible.

Trust me, I am every bit
as desirous of that as you.

Of course, that is a captain's decision.

They were like an ill-married couple.

An ill-married couple
will tolerate each other, Mr. Melville.

But an ill-married couple
can also bring down a ship.

Are you married, Mr. Melville?

- I am.
- God have mercy on you.

First child on the way, too.

So, does your good wife
know that you've brought

all you have in the world here tonight

and given it to a stranger?

No, sir.

You're full of surprises, aren't you?

So,

the "Essex" did not return to port.

She did not.

- She continued out to sea.
- Yes, she did.

And before long,

we heard that call

that all whalemen pray for.

"Blows."

Blows!

To windward!

There she blows!

Right or sperm, Mr. Ramsdell?

Sperm whales they are!

There go the flukes!

Mr. Chase!

Hoist and swing boats.

All hands! All hands on deck!

All hands on deck!

Away the boats.

Lower away!

Straight! Crack them backbones.

Aye, sir!

Give way all.

Spring those oars till your arms fall off.

There they breach!

Thataway, boys! Full pressure!

Aye, sir!

Come on! Put your back into it.

Pull!

Pull like a vengeance!

There she blows!

- That's a calf.
- Whoo-hoo!

That's the calf?

That's the cow.

And that's our boy!
That's the money.

- Nickerson, push!
- Sorry, sir.

Forty-barreler?

Fifty.

Oh, he's a buster!

Bite the oars, lads.

Blister your goddamn lungs!

Full pressure!

Smartly, lads! Smartly!

Mind your oars!

- Mr. Ramsdell, prepare the line.
- Aye, sir.

Mr. Lawrence, the first one's mine.

Take me to the pretty spot.

- Pull!
- Come on. Stay on him.

You're on your first
Nantucket sleigh ride, boy.

Oh, my God!

Whoo!

Look at him!

The most fearsome creature
ever to live on this Earth.

He sounds.

My hands!

We need
to wet the line, Nickerson.

Give way, lads. Give way.

Got 140 fathoms
of line left, Mr. Chase.

Eighty fathoms of line left, sir!

He's gonna pull us under!

Matthew, I need your line!

Keep going!

- Peterson, give me the line.
- Aye, sir.

Give me that line, Mr. Peterson.

We're down
to 60 fathoms of line left, sir!

- Twenty fathoms, Mr. Chase.
- Tie it off!

- Safe!
- Go!

- Peterson, lay out.
- Aye, sir.

How many fathoms can he go?

70 fathoms left, sir.

No, no, no, wait.

- Owen!
- No, no! Not yet!

Don't touch that line!

Down to 50 fathoms, sir.

Owen, God damn it!

I said don't touch it!

30 fathoms left, Mr. Joy.

Ten fathoms left, sir!

Backwater!

Push!

Chimney's afire!

Chimney's afire!

Afire!

Hurry it along, lads.

God! Get out, you bastards.

Blubber in the oil.

Smell that, boys!
That's us making money!

Get out of there,
you sons of bitches.

- There, you got it?
- There's not a chance.

- How's it looking?
- It's not good.

That's it.

- Mr. Chase, sir.
- Yeah?

That's all of it, sir.
We can't get any more out.

That's the gold in there, boys.
Come on, keep digging.

We're too big to wriggle down there.

Then find someone who can.

Nickerson! Come here, boy.

Hey! I said come here.

Climb on into him.

Come on, Thomas.

What's in there is worth
a hell of a lot more

than what they're boiling down.

Sir!

I can't, I'm...

I'm sorry. I can't.

You get down there,
or I'll have you sleep down there.

You best put that between your teeth, boy.

Stinks worse than
the devil's asshole down there.

Thanks.

Sorry.

Here, Nickerson,
take my pillow with you.

Down you go.

A man gets to know himself down there.

- They ever send you into a whale's head?
- No.

I was spared.

Well, that's where the treasure is.

I'll never forget that first bull.

Forty-seven barrels.

'Course, the happiness was short-lived.

The waters there had all been fished out?

That they had.

So, we headed further out.

Yeah.

Took us a month to round the Horn.

Left the South Atlantic behind
with a sliver of hope

that things could change for the better.

But making the Pacific
didn't improve our lot.

Whale sightings were too damn scarce.

After nearly a year at sea,

the temperaments of our captain
and first mate grew more strained.

Captain Pollard spent most
days and nights in his cabin,

afraid to look his crew in the eye.

Our hold was almost empty.

And to gaze upon our paltry efforts

only served as a reminder

that we were a long way
from going home.

No, no. I don't talk that talk.

- Speak English.
- Offer me more.

- Here, sir.
- This, Nantucket whale oil.

- Ain't no skinny hog worth more than that.
- More!

"Capitán." Excuse me.

The locals told me your voyage
was waylaid, sir.

Captain George Pollard. The "Essex."

"Capitán" Clemente Pelaez, the "Santa Maria."

Would you buy a colleague a drink?

No, no.

Bad luck? How far out?

Far enough for only a fool to go.

How far would that be?

A thousand leagues along the equator.

The Offshore Grounds.

Were there whales there?

More than you've ever dreamed.

Hundreds.

Fields of flukes far as the eye can see.

Could have filled up 3.000 barrels
in the space of a day.

What do you mean, "could have"?

If it weren't for that demon.

A whale.

White as alabaster.

Hundred feet long.

Sent six of my crew to their graves.

And the rest of us,
something to remember him by.

Now, this white whale,

did he dance a jig
and pick your pocket as well?

Hmm?

Gracias.

You believe that?

If we set sail now,
catch the south easterlies

at their best time and fill our belly,

we could be home in six months.

What say you, Mr. Chase?

No need to endure our predicament

for a moment longer than necessary.

Amen to that.

Amen.

Greed took hold
of our captain and first mate.

So we headed out.

A thousand leagues along the equator.

Where knowledge ended,
speculation began.

That's where the whales
had gone to hide.

As far from man as
they could possibly go.

But we hunted them down.

Centuries before,

sailors feared
sailing off the edge of the Earth.

But we were headed for the edge of sanity.

Trist gave way to doubt.

Hope to blind superstition.

Captain, the men are talking.

That's what men do.

They aren't happy with your decision
to sail out this far.

Well, did you correct them?

Did you remind them of our purpose
to fill this ship with whale oil,

and if the whales are 1.000 leagues out,
that that is where we will go?

Cousin, please.

This is madness.

You have let yourself
be influenced by that man.

You must turn this ship back.

I suggest you go back down,

reassure the men, be a leader

and don't ever, ever abuse
the privilege of family with me again.

Mr. Coffin.

What is it?

Listen.

Mr. Chase?
I see some white water.

- Where?
- Portside!

- We're away!
- Portside, Captain!

- Where are they?
- You see anything?

Lower away!

Lower away! Lower away!

The devil take the Mexican grounds!

Peak oars!

Give it to him, Mr. Chappel!

Stick him, man! Stick him!

Dead ahead, Peterson!

Don't let him chew your oars, boys.
Back to it.

- The whale?
- Yes.

- So it's true?
- Yes.

Too much is true.

Get it up!

Full pressure!

Mr. Bond!

Back the foreyard, lower the tackle!

Aye, sir!

Here she comes, Peterson. Now, now!

Mr. Lawrence, take us leeward,
head us straight for the school.

Aye, sir.

- Hot tar, sir.
- We'll find him.

We're boat to black skin.

Beach us on her!

She's ours, men!

What was that, Mr. Lawrence?

Mr. Chase!

God damn it.

Find Mr...

Mr. Easton!

Get Mr. Lawrence
to man the pumps!

Where is he?

Port bow!

Get me the biggest irons we have.

He wants a fight?

Never seen a whale do that.

Mr. Lawrence, take the wheel.

Mr. Ramsdell,
secure the other end of the line

- to the foremast.
- Aye, sir.

As I live and breathe, he's mine.

Ah!

- Cut the line!
- Look out!

- Captain!
- What?

The "Essex"! She's listing.

Turn this boat around!

- Help me!
- Nickerson!

- Mr. Joy!
- Here!

- Give me your hand!
- Help!

Nickerson!

Mr. Chase!

A whale, sir.

It stove the ship.

What?

We lost Easton and Sanborn.

The pumps are useless, sir.

Prepare to abandon ship.

We can't row our way home.

We'll have to strip her of her sails

- and jimmy-rig something.
- Aye, sir.

Gather as much food
and water as you can carry.

We're gonna need
all the fresh water you can find.

Nickerson,
you grab as much as you can.

Barz, come with me.

Sweet Lord!

First, the sails,
then the provisions.

Get as much food
as you can carry, lad.

Make haste, boys!

Nickerson, there are
more casks in steerage.

- Got it?
- Hardtack is dry.

Move sprightly, gentlemen.

Lower away!

- Take those tack lines.
- Up aloft!

Lower away! Bring it down!

Mr. Cole, get that yard down.

Bring it down. Keep it coming!

Hold off!

- Come on, Nickerson!
- Get those sails!

There you go.

Get that yard down!

We need the sails. Not enough water.

Get the barrels, now!

Strip that rigging!

More fresh water!
More hardtack! Come on!

I can see
more casks in the steerage!

Benjamin! Quick! Come on!

- Give me your hand!
- Get him up.

I got you.

Hardtack!

Come on! Move it!

Step lively, Mr. Nickerson!

Gotta get away from the oil!

She's going down! She's listing!

Where's Owen?

Nickerson, where is Mr. Chase?

He was just here, sir.

- Come on, hurry up!
- Owen!

- Mr. Chase!
- We gotta shove off!

Come on, now, boys!

Oil on deck!

- Captain!
- Mr. Chase!

Mr. Chase, sir!

Owen!

Where is the first mate?

- Owen!
- Mr. Chase, sir!

- Owen!
- She's gonna blow!

- Owen!
- We gotta move!

No, wait! Wait!

Mr. Chase, sir!

Mr. Chase!

There he is!
There he is! There he is!

- Over here!
- Mr. Chase!

Move that!

Mr. Chase, sir.

- Here!
- Get ahold, now.

We got you.

- Sir.
- You're all right now, Mr. Chase.

Going fishing, are we?

Clean and load it, Mr. Joy.

Back away,
or she'll take us down with her.

Captain.

What about our provisions?

Two ounces of hardtack a day per man.

And half a cup of water.

Hey, man, we can't live on that.

Not for more than a few days.

It's he.

Yeah, it's him, all right.

You don't fool me, Mr. Chase.

Mr. Coffin?

- That right?
- You put us here.

You know you put us here.

- Hey! Put it down!
- Mr. Coffin, put the pistol down.

- Say you're scared!
- What are you doing?

Mr. Coffin, put the pistol down.

You know what happens
when the food and water runs out?

Do as the captain says, Coffin!

I just wanna see the landsman scared.

Mr. Coffin, put the pistol down.
That's an order!

- Do as the captain says! Now!
- Say it!

- Henry.
- Say it!

Say it!

Henry!

Put the pistol down.

Henry!

Put it down.

So east it was.

Back in the direction we'd come.

Though only the sun
and compass told us so.

All directions looked the same.

Our hope was to catch
the Westerlies to Easter Island.

A journey of 3.000 miles.

In 12 days, we have drifted south.

Six degrees latitude.

We're not one mile closer
to Easter Island.

We stayed in the same place.

We are cursed.

We'll make up for it
when we catch the variables.

We'll catch them.

Chappel!

Chappel!

Chappel!

You've got him, Captain!

Mr. Joy, the halyard's jammed!

Mr. Joy!
You all right, Mr. Joy?

Grab the tiller!

- Grab it!
- Matthew!

Get that sail down!

Matthew. Hey, what happened?

What happened?

Owen. What are you doing here?

- Let me take a look.
- No, no, no.

- Lay still. Let me look.
- Owen, I'm fine.

All right. Just relax. Relax.
Let me take a look.

- I'm fine!
- I know. I know.

I just wanna take a look.

I banged my head.
Just a scratch, all right?

- Just a scratch.
- Give him some water.

- I don't need any water!
- Give him some goddamn water!

No, no, no. I don't need water. I'm fine.

- Yeah.
- Take that. Take it.

Hey. I got you, I got you.

You're all right. You're all right.

Hey! What're you all looking at? I'm fine.

Captain Pollard. Fit as a fiddle.

Fit as a goddamned fiddle.
You hear me?

- Owen.
- Yeah.

I'm fine.

All right? I'm fine!

- You're a tough son of a bitch.
- Thank you. I'm fine. Get out of here.

He's good.

Let's go.

Why waste water on a dead man?

Them two men have known each other,
sailed together since childhood.

Now, tell me,

could you sit there and watch
your own brother die?

Simply a matter of numbers, Mr. Chappel.

There's not enough for all of us.

Why waste water on a dead man?

Why waste water on...

Why waste water? Why waste?

Why waste water on a dead man?

Mr. Nickerson?

- Why waste water...
- You all right, sir?

- I cannot.
- Cannot what?

No, you...

You have enough. More than enough.

But, sir, we've come so far.

We have come to an end.

We have an agreement, sir.

Take the money and leave!

The devil's bargain.

No, sir.

The devil loves unspoken secrets.

Especially those that
fester in a man's soul.

What's yours?

I am not a great writer.

I am not Hawthorne.

But from my first hearing of it,

this tale has haunted me.

It consumes me.

I fear if I do not write it,

then I should never write again.

What else?

I fear if I do write it,

that it will not be
as good as it should be.

Continue the story, sir.

For the both of us.

Pass that down.

Thank you, sir.

We thank you, Lord, for this is our food.

I'm sorry.

For life and health,

and every good.

Let all manner to...

Land...

Land!

- Land! Land!
- Land!

- Land!
- Land!

Oars! Give way! Give way!

Oars! Now! Give way! Row!

- I saw it, Mr. Chase.
- That you did, boy.

Hold fast.
Hold fast! Hold fast!

- Mr. Chase, sir. What is it?
- Mr. Chase!

What the devil is it?
Why have you stopped?

He's been following us!

What is he talking about?

There's nothing out there,
Mr. Chase!

- There ain't nothing out there, sir!
- Sir, what are you doing?

Brace! Brace! Brace!

No!

Where is he?

This could be Ducie Island.

Without a map, compass or quadrant,
there's no way to be certain.

We will keep fires going night and day.

Hope a passing ship
catches sight of our smoke.

This is what I wanted you to see.

They've been here a long time, no doubt.

Waiting for a ship.

But no ship came.

No ship is going to come.

If we stay, we die.

How long do you think
it'll take the tropic birds

to stop coming here once
they see their eggs eaten?

It's a privilege to know
the moment of one's death in advance,

be able to prepare for it.

Curse to be so far from home

without a chance to say goodbyes,

without a chance to make peace,

without a chance to settle the scores.

Then let us at least settle
those between us, Captain.

Captain of what?

The "Essex" was lost
through no fault of yours.

I was as much to blame for...

You are not the captain.

But you were born to do this job.

I was just born into it.

What do we do, do you think, George?

And what offense did we give God
to upset him so?

The only creature to have
offended God here

is the whale.

Not us?

In our arrogance, our greed,
look where we find ourselves.

We are supreme creatures
made in God's own likeness.

Earthly kings whose business it is

to circumnavigate
the planet bestowed to us.

To bend nature to our will.

You really feel like an earthly king
after everything that we've been through?

We're nothing. We're...

We're specks. And dust.

We sail into the sun at dawn.

If we are to die,
then with God's grace, let us die as men.

Are we ready, Mr. Weeks?

Aye, sir.

Mr. Chappel?

Mr. Wright?

I can't do it, sir.

Me, Wrights and Weeks,

we're staying.

You ready to go, Matthew?

I'll give you a hand.
Here, you gotta get up.

No, there's no point. You hear me?

No, we're going home.
We're going home.

There's no point.

Just go.

God damn it, Matthew.

It's all right.

Well, I'll send a boat for you
the minute we get back.

Then we'll play cards
back in Nantucket, all right?

Yeah.

- It's a deal.
- Good.

You want me to open that for you?

Ah...

I think I'll manage.

If it comes to that.

God be with you, brother.

Yeah, and you.

Brother Peterson?

Y'all coming with us?

Mr. Peterson.

Why don't you come in our boat
with Mr. Bond here?

Where... Where is he?

Pollard?

Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Lawrence, wake up.

Where's the other boat gone?

- Pollard!
- Captain Pollard!

- Captain Pollard!
- Captain Pollard, sir!

- Pollard.
- Captain!

Captain Pollard!

Pollard!

What's the matter?

Benjamin. What are you doing?

He's dead.

Putting him overboard, sir.

Look at me.

Look at me, Benjamin.

No right-minded sailor discards
what might yet save him.

Listen to me, boy. Listen to me.

He can help us.

My God. My heavenly king.

Sweetness is the power of his grace.

With longing eyes,

thy creatures await on thee
for daily food.

My soul is dead.

So it was decided.

We prepared the body.

We removed the organs.

Separated his limbs from his body

and cut all the flesh from the bones.

After which,

we closed the body

and we sewed it up

as decently as we could

and committed it to the sea.

We ate the heart first.

You judge me.

No.

There.

There.

It is done.

It is out.

And you've never told anyone?

No.

Not even your wife?

Do you think she could ever love me

if she knew the abominations
I had committed?

Yes. She would.

And if you had told me
the story when we met,

I would still wear your ring today.

The strength of that boy

still lives in you.

I see that.

Even if you don't.

You can finish your story now, my love.

Hey, sit up.

Listen,

put your head back.

Look, we still got
a few drops of water left.

Don't you quit on me.
We're going home.

Do you have a family back home, Mr. Chase?

Yeah, I have a wife.

Yes, and a son or a daughter.

Very well.

- Captain.
- We will draw again.

We will do no such thing.

We'll draw again.

Mr. Ramsdell,

you will assume command of this vessel.

Cousin, will you?

You're our...

You're our captain.
The men need you.

The men will be fine.

Please.

Please. Please.

- Henry.
- Let us draw again.

It is an order.

If you cannot do it,

pass the pistol to another man.

Henry, no, no, no!

You gotta help me, kid.
You gotta help me.

We were weeks in the doldrums.

That part of the Pacific
is more desert than ocean.

The sun beating down.

My fear.

All I could think about

was that everyone would die,

and I'd be the last left alive.

And as best Mr. Chase could tell,
we were still 800 miles from land.

Mr. Chase.

Ah.

Captain Pollard.

I am happy to see you.

Been very little happiness
in our survival.

Or in ours, sir.

Barzillai?

The third boat?

They've, uh...

They've been gone for days.

I'm afraid they're lost, sir.

Mr. Chase,
you have the best position.

It's just a whale.

He's there! Throw the lance!

Throw it!

- Throw it! Throw the lance!
- Come on.

Throw it!

Come on.

Kill it! He's there!

Throw the lance!

Why didn't you kill it?

You're a damn fool.

Currents drew us apart

and that was the last we would see
of Captain Pollard's whale boat.

A boat!

Broad on the port bow!

May God have mercy.

Mr. Chase.

Father!

Don't leave me, Father!

Mr. Chase.

Mr. Chase.

Sir, look. Look, sir.

Mr. Chase, look.

Wake up, Mr. Chase!

Here, wake up!

Please wake up, sir, there's land.

Mr. Chase, look.

We were rescued there,

off the island of Más Afuera, Chile,

90 days after the sinking of the "Essex."

They gave us some old clothes.

Fed us, too.

It was hard to eat at first.

Strange.

They looked after us as best they could

till we found a ship
that would carry us home.

That voyage took another three months.

It looked like the whole island
turned out to see us return.

But there were no cheers.

Only silence.

They looked at us like
we were apparitions,

phantoms.

We'd said nothing of the details
of our survival to anyone,

but I wondered if they somehow
knew of our privations.

Maybe they were just curious.

Oh, my God!

I promised, didn't I?

Oh, God.

Hi.

Hey, sweetie. Who's this?

Phoebe Ann.

Phoebe Ann Chase, huh?

This is Daddy.

Hey, sweetie.

It's your daddy.

Oh, my God.

Of course,
they couldn't leave him alone.

Mr. Chase and his wife had
scarcely walked a block towards home

when he was stopped and
made to return to the Maritime office.

There were business matters
still in question.

So, to the matter.

Due to the significant loss of life
and property on our voyage,

it seems there will be an inquiry.

And as captain and first mate,

we will be expected to give an account

of what happened.

Yes, of course.

And having discussed this
with the ship owners and my father,

it is clear that full disclosure
will have ramifications.

Terrible ramifications
for the whole industry.

That a whale brought down the "Essex."

But it's the truth.

If the insurance houses and investors

were to start worrying
about sea monsters sinking ships,

sailors drawing lots to survive...

We are in the oil business.

All of us.

And as in any business,

the probability of success must
always be greater than the risk incurred.

So, what are you suggesting, George?

That you say the ship ran aground.

That's a lie.

- And that the men that died, drowned.
- And that's another lie.

Think on it. They will make you captain.

Well, that pledge I already have
in writing.

Only on the condition
you bring home a ship full of oil.

This way, it's guaranteed.

You would be a wealthy man.

The name Chase need
no longer be a landsman's name,

but an established name

that belongs among the great families
of Nantucket.

You want me to whitewash
what happened for profit?

We are asking you to be pragmatic.

The "Essex" was stove by a white whale.

And those of us that survived
in ill-equipped whaleboats

had to commit abominations
in order to survive.

And, on our return,
we're expected to spread barefaced lies

so that you,
the ship owners of Nantucket,

might line your pockets
and sleep well at night?

Well, I will not embroider the truth.

Nor should you, George.

That last time I saw him...

Mr. Chase, sir!

I couldn't find the right words
to say what I wanted to.

Thomas.

Perhaps there are no words.

Um...

I'm gonna be on my way to Falmouth and...

It's...

It's been an honor, sir,
to sail with you.

The honor's been mine, Mr. Nickerson.

Here.

Good luck out there, Thomas.

And you, sir.

Next day, George Pollard was called
before the inquiry.

Gentlemen, Captain George Pollard.

And all the important men
in Nantucket were there.

It was a formality.

Good day to you, Captain.
Please sit down.

For the record, then...

The "Essex" was stove by a white whale

1.200 leagues west of Ecuador.

It was as if Owen Chase himself
had spoken.

Told them the truth.

Captain Pollard's conscience was clear.

But the inquiry was a sham.

Pollard went out again,

looking for the white whale.

He never found it.

He ran a second ship aground off Hawaii.

Twice cursed.

Never sailed again.

And Owen Chase?

He was a man of his word.

First, he sent a boat back
to Ducie Island.

Mr. Joy had passed.

But the other three were,
incredibly, still alive.

And then?

And then he packed up his family
and moved to New Bedford.

Started over.

Became a merchant captain,

sailing on his own terms.

Well, you certainly got your
money's worth, Mr. Melville.

These February nights
are the longest of the year.

Well, you can both rest now.

Believe me,

I shall not be resting for some time.

Why?

You got your story.

You know, your plot. It's all there.

Maybe it wasn't a plot I was after.

No. What, then?

- Something else you've given me tonight.
- And what's that?

The courage to go where
one does not want to go.

Mr. Melville,

what you've heard, what I've told you,

will it all be of service to your book?

It will be a work of fiction,
Mr. Nickerson,

inspired by truth.

But I don't believe
I'll feel the need to use all of it.

- Thank you.
- Here.

- Take that with you.
- No. The money is for you. I insist.

I insist you keep it.

And I insist one person
in this conversation is sober.

- So it's back to, uh...
- Pittsfield, Massachusetts.

Well, good luck.

Thank you.

You know,

I heard a man from Pennsylvania
drilled a hole in the ground recently

and found oil.

That can't be true.

I heard it, too.

Oil from the ground.

Fancy that.