Original subtitles

In New York City...

on a street in the East Forties, there's an ordinary tailor shop.

Or is it ordinary?

We entered through the agents' entrance and we are now in U.N.C.L.E. headquarters.

That's the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.

U.N.C.L.E. is an organization consisting of agents of all nationalities.

It's involved in maintaining political and legal order anywhere in the world.

My name is Napoleon Solo.

I'm an enforcement agent in Section Two here.

That's Operations and Enforcement.

I am Illya Kuryakin. I'm also an enforcement agent.

Like my friend Napoleon, I go and I do whatever I am told to by our chief.

Huh? Oh, yes. Alexander Waverly.

Number One in Section One.

In charge of this, our New York headquarters.

It's from here that I send these young men on their various missions.

Gone blinkers? The wireless? You can't mean it.

And the ship's telephone, sir.

- The telephone? - Yes, sir.

All our communications systems are dead.

- Lost our radar, sir. - Done what?

Captain, look.

Full speed astern. Hard right rudder.

Full speed astern. Hard right rudder.

- Mr. Maclnernay. - Make anything out, sir?

There. Look.

Bloody idiots. Lying to in weather like this.

Well, looks like an old merchant ship. World War II vintage.

- Stop all engines. - Stop all engines.

Captain Fowler...

they're firing at us.

That's out of the question. This isn't 1942.

Ahoy, the Inexorable.

You will heave to and prepare to receive a boarding party.

Captain Fowler, the masthead.

The Jolly Roger.

Pirates?

Hmm.

Yes, there is much here to interest us.

Mr. Morgan, we will avail ourselves of these...

these, these and these.

- Aye, aye, sir. - Now, captain.

With your permission, I'd like to have a word with your passengers.

Piracy on the high seas is still a hanging offense, mister.

Provided the offender can be brought within the noose.

You've seen how I can disable your communications equipment.

I can do the same for any ship that approaches me.

Are these all your passengers?

Well, surely you've no designs on them.

Prepare them to abandon ship. Your crew as well.

But you can't mean we're to take to the lifeboats.

Unless you prefer to stay aboard after we set this vessel afire and sink her.

- Sink her? - Hmm.

Now, then. I'm going to ask you only one question, ladies and gentlemen.

Please consider it carefully. Answer honestly.

I pledge you my word no harm will come to anyone who gives me a truthful reply.

Are there any amongst you who can tune a piano?

He's fainted.

Well, don't stand there, Mr. Maclnernay. Fetch some brandy.

Um. Yeah. Yeah.

I was just making lunch. Should I put a couple of plates down?

- Just black coffee, thanks. - A cup, then.

- Uh, you eat, I hope? - Yes, ma'am.

You have some splendid books here, Mrs. Barnman.

My husband, all he does is read and eat.

A bookworm and a tapeworm in the same man, ha, ha.

- He's a librarian, isn't he? - Uh-huh.

Not that it's much of a living.

That's why when this ad came up, well, we...

That's what we're interested in.

This advertisement Mr. Barnman answered.

"The executors of a recently-deceased bibliophile...

desire an experienced librarian to catalog the collection.

Will qualified applicants please telephone for an appointment."

It was like a breeze in the Bronx.

- So he called them? - Naturally.

They said he should come to this address on Staten Island for an interview.

- And he never came back. - Nope.

I've got a piece of pound cake.

No, no, no, thanks. Please, sit down.

- And you say that was two weeks ago? - That's right.

I finally checked with the police...

and they said that there wasn't any such address on Staten Island.

Then they checked with the neighbors and they said that we were fighting.

They think that Harry put the ad in himself so he could skip out on me.

If Harry'd wanted to do something like that,

I'd have to write the ad for him, ha, ha.

Besides, he loves me.

He didn't run away.

We agree with you, Mrs. Barnman.

- Hooray. Glad somebody else does. - We know one or two things...

that may have some connection with Harry's disappearance.

A month ago in Copenhagen, there was an ad for an experienced glazier.

The man answers the ad and he's never been heard of since.

In the south of England, someone looking for a man to repair thatched roofs.

Ads answered, man disappears.

Then in New Caledonia, someone needs a licensed veterinarian.

Young fellow applies, they're still looking for him, and so on.

So you see, Mrs. Barn...

- What's that? - Excuse me. It's for me.

It's what?

Hey, what's that s...?

Yes?

Mm-hm.

Mm. Mm-hm.

Right away.

Big brother called. Something important. I have to go now.

Any information you could give Mr. Kuryakin would be appreciated.

Oh, and I think he could use another plate of soup.

Uh, wait a minute.

Uh, say, listen, are those things very expensive?

Oh, no, ma'am. Uh, they're made in Japan.

Oh.

Oh, ha, ha.

Eat, Sam.

Yeah?

Oh, oh, just a minute.

It says it's for you.

- Yes? - Illya, a man in a white suit.

Just across the street.

Ten cases of powdered milk, a crate of aspirin and 500 pair of shoe laces?

The part that interests me is his asking for a piano tuner.

The part that interests me is crossing that blackguard's bow.

We were in those boats for two days before we were picked up.

It's a wonder no one died of exposure.

Oh, quite, quite, quite. Quite, sir, quite.

The fact is, you and six other sea captains are of a single mind in that respect.

- You mean this has happened before? - Oh, yes.

I've heard nothing of it from anyone.

Well, naturally, nobody's going around talking about it.

News like that gets out and the whole shipping business goes to the bottom.

Uh, ahem.

Oh, sorry. Just my way of putting it.

The fact is, six nations are involved in this...

and they've tossed it to us.

- I'm tossing it to you. - Uh, me, sir?

Oh, by the way, there's a slight difference in Captain Fowler's case.

The pirate didn't seize any passengers.

You mean there have been kidnappings as well as sinkings?

One or two from each ship.

Chosen with no more regard for the laws of logic...

than the choice of the merchandise taken from the holds.

This request for a piano tuner, for example.

Good question.

Well, I haven't the vaguest of answers.

I've got a desk full of my own work here. I can't be expected to do yours too.

Here's the casebook.

Now run along.

Yeah?

Do you want to see Mrs. Barnman?

- Now, I didn't quite hear what you said. - Who's buzz...? Oh.

- Oh! - Jeez.

Oh. Gee, I'm sorry. Uh, let me help you.

Oh, please, do me a favor. Next time, help him.

Then she took me upstairs and gave me another bowl of soup.

Thanks.

Our friend's escape, though embarrassing, is easy to explain.

Piracy on the high seas involving aspirins and shoelaces is not.

Well, unless the pirate needed aspirins and shoelaces.

Needed them for what?

- Tying shoes and curing headaches. - In the middle of the ocean?

It doesn't make sense. These articles are easily purchased.

In the middle of the ocean?

Hope I'm not interrupting anything.

Not at all. Just having a drink with Illya.

Are you? I wish I had time for that.

Uh, Solo...

new development.

Seems three days ago... I think it was three days ago.

Anyhow, a Soviet freighter got stopped on its way to Brisbane.

Looks like the same chap.

Took off a mishmash of goods and one passenger.

- What do you think of that? - Just one passenger?

Yes, a Russian.

Some sort of musical fellow.

Rather highly thought of in certain circles.

Vassily Chokurdakhevich. Ha, ha, they do have names, don't they?

Chokurdakhevich the pianist?

I heard him in Carnegie Hall two years ago.

He plays Bach with impeccable style.

- Yes, that's the chap. - Well, why should he be kidnapped?

I thought perhaps Solo might find it suggested something to him.

Well, as a matter of fact, it does.

It suggests to me that our pirate friend

has finally found the piano tuner he needed.

I miss him too, Sam.

- Hello. - Well, hooray.

That's the first thing you've said since your warranty expired, ha, ha.

Yeah?

Hey, aren't you the fellow...?

Well, just a second.

Passage ticket.

Sam, start packing.

Where to?

They lock automatically from here. You can't get out.

You will have realized by now that this taxi is not in general service around town.

It belongs to U.N.C.L.E.

And it is used primarily to transport people to our headquarters...

whom we wish to have deep and soul-searching discussions with.

As, for example, you.

I interrogated him for five hours.

Absolutely nothing.

Not even a word.

But we'll try again tomorrow.

Listen, you think you're at a dead end.

My friend the pirate stops a ship...

and he politely snatches an old lady on her way to visit her son.

All right, and he burns the ship.

And he kidnaps a mother and two children for no apparent reason.

Scratch another vessel.

And he pops up in the Christmas Islands and he grabs an 18-year-old French girl.

Excuse me.

The people he abducted, they were who?

Well, there was the old lady and the French girl, and the...

- And a mother of two children, you said? - Yeah.

The glazier from Copenhagen who answered the first advertisement...

Abeltoft, he disappeared.

A month later, his mother also disappeared.

An old lady.

Yeah, it's unusual parallel, but...

The English roof thatcher.

Soon after he vanished, so did his wife and two children.

- What about the French girl? - The fiancée of Romain Lavabeau.

He was the one who answered the advertisement for veterinarian.

Where those passenger lists?

Abeltoft. Abeltoft. Abeltoft.

Yeah, there it is.

What was the name of the, uh, roof thatcher?

Melksham. George Melksham.

Here.

"Mrs. George Melksham and children."

Illya, I think, uh, we're both still working on the same case.

Instead of being at our own dead ends, we're at the same dead end together.

Wait a minute. Maybe not. Maybe not.

Now look. A person answers an advertisement in the paper, right?

- Mm-hm. - And he disappears.

And a short while later, his wife and two children...

or his mother or, uh, sweetheart packs up and goes away suddenly.

Soon after, they're on a ship.

Soon that ship is seized and sunk by our pirate and they're removed.

Along with shoelaces and powdered milk.

But how does our pirate friend know which ship they're on so he can seize them?

Well, he or, uh, somebody acting for him on dry land buys them the ticket.

Um...

- The man in the white suit. - And Mrs. Barnman.

That's right, left this morning early.

Shoved a note under my door saying, "Here's two months' rent in advance"...

and keep everything tidy till she comes back.

Said she was going to join her husband.

Not if he knows anything about it. I'll give odds.

Oh, far be it from me to tell you fellows how to run your affairs...

but it seems a simple enough matter.

Just find out what ship she's on.

Sir, do you have any idea...

how many cargo vessels leave ports all over the world every day?

I mean, she could have been flown anyplace first.

She could be boarding a ship in, uh, Reykjavik, for all we know.

Oh, I'm not saying there isn't a bit of paperwork to be done.

But what's the alternative, after all?

No, the way I see it, you fellows have got to locate this ship.

I expect she's sailed by now.

Then somehow or other, manage to get yourselves aboard.

When it's stopped by a pirate...

Get ourselves aboard, sir, after it's at sea?

Yes, that does present a problem, doesn't it?

Two chaps joining a ship in mid-ocean? Bound to cause comment.

Unless it's done cleverly.

I mean, we can't very well just fly you out by helicopter...

and dump you down on the deck, can we?

No.

No, this has gotta be something that...

I know.

Come in, Honolulu.

Sometimes I think Mr. Waverly is secretly in the pay of Thrush.

Oh, I hate the sea.

It's too big, too wet, too salty.

Boris Driadnov, ship's cook, S.S. Fontella.

Ah, we went down 800 miles off the west coast of Hawaii.

To me, it's as flimsy as this raft.

No, I think it'll work.

And the helicopter dropped us 50 miles in front of the Whippet...

so they should be sighting us in a couple of hours.

And the aerological reports indicate there'll be a fog bank around 5:00...

so that gives us a two-and-a-half hour buffer...

between the time the Whippet hauls us aboard...

and the time we sight the fog.

Why are we so certain that the pirate will make contact with the Whippet in the fog?

That's been the pattern in the past.

And besides, that's the way Mr. Waverly sees it.

After all, Mrs. Barnman is a passenger aboard the Whippet.

Ho-ho-ho, I'm sure when one sits behind a big elegant desk...

one's vision has a certain clarity...

of which we out here in the middle of the ocean are deprived.

- It's 3:00. - The fog is a little early this afternoon.

And the Whippet is a little late.

But we are right on time.

Imminently in danger of being crushed between two approaching vessels.

Why did they not at least let us have a wireless?

Uh, it wouldn't have looked right.

Someone would have heard our SOS by now.

Holy smoke.

- Where is it? - I can't tell.

- Is it the Whippet? - Well, do we really care?

- There. - Over here.

Stop. Stop. Hey, hey, over here.

- Ahoy there. - Hey, hey, no.

Illya, jump.

Come on.

There.

Gentlemen, as soon as we have sufficiently cleaned you up...

the captain would be grateful for permission to enjoy a word with you.

May I direct you?

Illya.

Ah, yes.

I see we've caught the wrong bus.

Boris Driadnov. Ship's cook. S.S. Fontella.

- Thank you, my dear. - Uh, my name is...

Yes, yes, gentlemen, I'm sure you both have names and credentials.

I'm equally sure you'll forgive me if I'm unable to listen to the full details...

of whatever disaster it is you have so miraculously survived.

However, I'm going to put you in the hands of Mr. Morgan...

who will see to it that you are fed and properly billeted.

After which, we'll face the problem of what to do with you.

Gentlemen?

Ah, captain, it, uh, just occurred to me...

that we, uh, don't even know the name of this ship.

Or of its master.

What I mean is, uh, to whom do we deliver our thank-you notes?

Well, gentlemen, I would suggest that you defer such activities...

until you are able to determine exactly how thankful you are.

General quarters, Mr. Morgan. Leave these two here.

- Man all battle stations. - Aye, aye, sir.

Attention all hands. This is your captain speaking.

Contact is established.

Activate radar- and wireless-blackout equipment.

Boarding parties muster at Station 3.

Gun crews, man your weapons.

All departments assume Condition Able-Mike-Sugar.

If I didn't know better, I'd swear it

sounded like you were going to attack a ship.

Appearances are deceiving, my friend.

In actuality, you see, I'm only going to market.

Forward turret manned and ready.

Searchlights manned and ready.

It's some kind of international brigade.

Yeah, it's about to attack the Whippet.

All stations report Condition Able-Mike-Sugar.

All stations maintain battle readiness.

Uh, I don't know either of you.

What did the captain mean that I should wait and meet someone I knew?

I think he meant your wife, Mr. Barnman.

You know me?

- Harry Barnman? - Well, yes, but...

Did you say my wife? Elsa will be here?

As soon as the Whippet is intercepted.

There goes the old waistline again.

I'm telling you, fellows, my wife insists on cooking...

We don't have much time.

So we'd like you to tell us everything as fast as you can.

- Everything about what? - Exactly who this pirate is.

Out of what port he operates and particularly what he's up to.

- If you're members of the ship, you know. - No, we're not.

We're part of an organization called the U.N.C.L.E.

We are working with the governments of United States, Britain...

Russia, Italy, Netherlands, Spain, Yugoslavia and Japan...

...to investigate these kidnappings and put a stop to them.

Another ship with your wife aboard her...

will be coming alongside.

This captain intends to kidnap your wife and then sink the other ship.

That's a kind of thing that's good for a 40-minute lecture from Mr. Waverly.

- Is it two-way, you suppose? - We'll know before very long.

Mr. Barnman, any help you could give us will be very much appreciated.

Now, who is this man? Where does he come from?

Well, I really don't know.

He calls himself Shark. Captain Shark.

Have you been aboard since your disappearance?

Most of the time, except when we stop at the cove for refueling or supplies.

- Well, what is the purpose of this ship? - Survival.

I beg your pardon.

Oh, it's for survival.

- You see, Captain Shark... - Wait a minute. We seem to be stopping.

It's the Whippet. It's here.

Captain of the Whippet is deciding he's gone out of his mind.

- Ahoy, the Whippet. - Listen.

You will heave to...

and prepare to receive a boarding party.

Mr. Barnman, what is he looking for, this Captain Shark?

He's not looking for anything. He's found it.

- Found what? - This. Noah's Ark.

- Noah's Ark? - Could you be a little more explicit?

Well, the people who answered the captain's advertisement and their families...

we live here. That is, when we're not on the cove.

- We're the ones who'll be left. - Left?

- After. - After what?

- The destruction. - The destruction.

The war. The one that's coming.

The one that's going to destroy everything and kill everyone.

That is, except those of us on this ship. The captain says we'll survive.

I see.

After the ashes have settled and the wind has blown away the radioactivity...

we'll land on an island, colonize it and rebuild.

And just when do you think this war is going to take place?

The captain seems to think it'll be very soon.

That's why he's in such a rush to get the supplies...

and recruit all the people he needs.

Of course.

Let's get underway, Mr. Morgan. All in full.

Aye, aye, sir.

Yeah.

I'll attack the guard.

Mr. Barnman, your wife has arrived.

Harry, you said Staten Island.

Uh, hi, Elsa. It's good to see you.

Oh.

I'm home cooking and you're out here taking a cruise.

And you two. I should have known you'd be behind the whole thing.

No, madam. As a matter of fact...

these two are, if anything, against this whole thing.

It was two-way, Illya.

I thought it might be.

I assume your accent, at least, is genuine. You are therefore Russian.

- Yes. - Good.

You can be of help to us.

A very distinguished artist has recently joined our group.

Unfortunately, at the moment there is a small problem of communication.

Vassily Chokurdakhevich.

Yes.

Well, you know a good deal.

From what I gather you overheard...

you also know that we're here to stop this piracy.

I appreciate your statement of intentions, sir.

But in coming aboard my ship, you have joined the colony.

You are now full-fledged members of my little body of survivors.

So we're prisoners?

Madam, I'm a firm believer in freedom.

Therefore, you are all free to choose whatever word you wish...

to describe your condition.

Well, in that case, uh, words that come to mind...

are shanghaiing, kidnapping and the like.

You know, despite all your polish, captain...

you're really just a sea-going gangster.

Mr. Barnman...

will you escort your wife to your cabin?

Oh, yes. Come on, dear.

Harry, what's this all...? What's he going to...?

Don't you shush me.

While loyalty is something I request of my crew, sir...

respect is something I demand.

Perhaps 10 of the best will serve to enlighten you.

Mr. Morgan.

This way.

Is this grip necessary?

I think we will get along very nicely...

once you understand the nature of our discipline.

One.

Take that man to the brig.

One.

- Two. - Buckle my shoe.

Gentlemen, you will pay close attention.

The ointment our doctor applied to your back will relieve the sting shortly.

Well, ahem, thank you for the concern.

Tell me something, captain.

Are you an American?

I've lost touch with such meaningless divisions of humanity long ago.

Along with a few other things.

So you're all dug in here waiting for the war...

that everybody else is staying up nights to keep from happening, huh?

It will happen, my friend. Read your history.

Well, when this war does happen...

what makes you think that, uh, this group will survive?

When the bombs explode, this ship will seal itself automatically like a cocoon.

We'll be protected by lead and re-filtered air.

And as you can see...

I've had most of the major interior sections of this vessel...

redesigned and rebuilt...

to give us an added touch of the comfort, luxury...

the sensation of living in a building rather than at sea.

What do you, uh, do for food?

Well, I carry a six-month supply.

If we run short, I have provisions stored on several islands.

When the danger is past...

we will leave the ark and establish a new society.

Mr. Barnman. Don't let us disturb you. Go right on with your cataloging.

- How's it going? - Terrible. Elsa won't even speak to me.

Well, Mr. Barnman, women are adaptable creatures.

Give her a little time.

This is our library.

- No books. - All on microfilm.

The stored wisdom of man's mind.

Everything from Plato's Republic to Freud's Interpretation of Dreams.

When we create a new world, this will be its foundation.

Well, that's fine, but why a glazier or a thatcher of roofs?

Well, to rebuild.

We also have a dentist, a weatherman, a butcher, pianist...

a librarian and others. You'll meet them all.

- When will I meet them all? - Tonight.

I'm having a gathering to introduce Mrs. Barnman.

I expect you to be there. You'll find suitable clothing in your cabin.

And my friend, Mr. Kuryakin?

Or does he stay in the brig?

I will allow his release this time.

If there is a next time, it will go much harder for both of you.

Well, that I can promise you, captain.

There won't be a next time.

Uh, I'm very pleased to meet you, I'm sure.

The charming lady is, of course, the wife of our esteemed librarian.

Mrs. Barnman, I now officially welcome you to our ship's company.

You will notice there are no precautions taken against us.

Well, there's no need. Ship is a fortress.

But we might foment a revolution among the passengers.

Hardly. The captain keeps them satisfied.

He's clothed them, fed them, provided them with their families.

Contentment does not breed revolution.

Then it seems we are at an impasse.

Well, not necessarily.

We could deprive them of their utopia.

And how exactly do we do that?

We, ah, sink the ship.

- We sink the ship? - That's right.

We manufacture a bomb, place it in the engine room...

blow out the side of the ship. Everybody has to leave. Plenty of lifeboats.

The passengers would have no choice. They'd have to go.

Now, one of us has to make an appearance at the party tonight...

so, uh, enjoy yourself.

Where will you be?

I am, uh, going to do a little marketing of my own.

I see that you and your countryman have discovered each other.

How is Mr. Chokurdakhevich enjoying himself?

He's not.

He's a concert artist, not a piano tuner.

Well, we have need for both in our colony.

Nevertheless, he is here against his will.

Merely because he's so recently among us.

- Where's your friend? - A touch of mal de mer.

- He'll be here soon. - Hmm.

Well, let's hope so. I don't relish the idea

of his wandering around my ship unattended.

He might hurt himself.

Come on, Elsa. Let's dance.

Excuse me.

- Are you still angry? - What makes you think that?

Just because my husband's joined with a collection of kooks?

Oh, mother was right. I should have married a doctor.

Oh, your mother's a dope.

It takes one to know one, honey.

Elsa.

Excuse me.

- Hey. - Shh!

Who are you?

- Oh, what are doing here? - Just, uh, borrowing your alarm clock.

- Do you mind? - Is everybody crazy?

- Do you wanna get off this ship? - Yes.

I'm going to need your help. Are you with me?

- Well, I guess so. - Okay, let's go.

- First stop, Munitions Room. - Hold on.

I'm not making a move till I feed Sam.

Excuse me, miss.

Mr. Morgan.

Our recently disciplined guest has yet to put in an appearance.

- Check his cabin and see if he's there. - Aye, aye, captain. Excuse me.

Hello!

I'm sorry, miss, but there are no passengers allowed down here.

Don't get so personal.

- Lady, you've been drinking. - Do you blame me? Ha, ha.

- Come on, back to your cabin now. - Now you're getting fresh.

I am a married lady. Help.

Help. Someone help me. I am being taken advantage of.

- What seems to be the trouble here? - This sailor is getting amorous.

This sailor, is that so?

Look, fellow, why don't you go on about your business.

Oh, all right.

- Hey. - Could you give me a hairpin, please?

- Uh... - Come, come.

Okay.

Say, how come a nice boy like you knows how to do things like this?

Shh. Come on.

Well, I see our good captain maintains a kind of explosive supermarket here.

Here. Hold this shopping bag.

Now, first of all, we're going to need the basic boom.

Ah, this is just what we need.

Now we'll need a little blasting wire.

Uh-huh.

And some tape.

Five or six feet of prima cord... Well, I'll take the whole thing.

And I need some detonators. Where would they be?

Yeah.

Mm-hm.

Are you sure these things won't go off?

Not now, but when I put them all together...

in a devilishly ingenious fashion using your alarm clock...

and the uranium battery from my flashlight...

- look out. - Huh.

- Simple as baking a cake. - We'll need a little frosting.

Would you hand me some of those ginger sticks?

- These? - Mm-hm.

What are they?

Dynamite.

Shh, shh! No hysterics now.

Okay. I think that completes our marketing.

Open the door. Hurry.

You think we should ask him for trading stamps?

You're a cool one, you are. Where you gonna put this bomb?

In the engine room. I don't want the ship to sink too fast.

I want you to go on back to that party and keep the captain occupied.

Me? How?

You'll think of something.

Ah!

Captain.

Excuse me for a moment, will you?

- Yes, Mr. Morgan? - He is not in his cabin.

Shall I alert the crew?

No, not yet.

I'll just have a look below.

- Captain. - Excuse me, madam.

Well, aren't you going to ask me to dance?

Well, another time?

But, uh, I'm the guest of honor and we haven't danced yet.

I have several matters that are rather pressing.

Yes, you always have certain matters.

I think you care more about this ship than the people onboard.

You know, ma'am, that's not true.

Then loosen up a little, huh?

Well, uh, how long are we going to be on this slow boat to no place?

How long? Well...

madam, that depends entirely on your countrymen.

And on all the fools in all the nations of the world...

who wake up each morning with new notions for destruction.

How long depends on the days or weeks that are left...

before the final holocaust.

You take this very seriously, don't you?

Fifteen years ago, I sat in a concrete bunker...

and watched an experimental mushroom cloud reduce an entire island to cinder.

I swore to do something about it. This ship is my answer.

All of a sudden she's paying attention to the captain.

- Do you mind? - Of course I mind. I'm gonna cut in.

Mr. Barnman.

- Uh, captain? - Later, Harry.

Well, I hate to think that you had to be forced to join our party.

Captain, I have just placed a bomb aboard your ship.

Now, there is time for you and everybody else here...

- to proceed immediately to the lifeboats. - You will all stay exactly where you are.

- This man is bluffing. - No. No, no. This man is not bluffing.

I rigged up some odds and ends from your Munitions Room.

Pay no attention to him.

This man has been sent among us by others...

and in the pay of others to see to it that we do not survive.

I think it's time that you all better start moving.

Come on. Hey, let's get going.

What's wrong with you people? You like it here or something?

You know what you're doing?

You're not hiding from a bomb, you're running away from your troubles.

Sure, it's much easier sitting here...

than going to work every morning, isn't it?

Well, I think you're cowards, all of you.

You don't want survival, you just want escape.

You're running away from your bosses, from your washing machines...

and from your milk bills.

And that includes you, Harry.

She's right, you know.

However, the point is rather academic.

If you don't get to the lifeboats, you're all going to go down with this ship.

You will not move, any of you!

What are you doing now, captain? Protecting them from destruction?

Mr. Solo, I once made a vow...

never to be party to the taking a human life.

Now, tonight...

you force me to break that vow.

Now get to the lifeboats. Take your time. Don't panic.

I'll organize them.

- You better hurry. - I'm waiting for Elsa.

There she is.

I couldn't leave without Sam.

Well, get the Sam out of here and get on the lifeboat.

All lifeboats are ready to be lowered, sir.

- Lower them. - Aye, aye, sir.

Captain.

You are dismissed now, Mr. Morgan.

I will stay with you, sir.

You will board one of the lifeboats and look after our people.

- Please, sir. - Captain.

Lifeboats. Lifeboats and rafts.

- You did this. - Mr. Morgan.

You killed this ship.

Go along now, Mr. Morgan.

They need you in the boats.

You're the finest exec I've ever sailed with.

My compliments.

Thank you, sir.

Room for one more, captain.

I want to help you.

You're like all the others.

The leaders...

senates, parliaments, houses of government.

You see something good...

worthwhile, and you must step in and destroy it.

I tried to create a safe harbor.

There is no safe harbor. Not here, not anywhere.

The only safety lies in agreements between people.

Now, I want you to come with me.

No, my friend.

Yours is a world I don't believe in.

Only optimists like yourself can go on living in it.

I don't know which of us is right or which of us is the strong one.

I only know I must sail this dream wherever it takes me.

It's not a dream. It's a nightmare.

Now abandon it.

I can't.

I'll stay with my ship.

You'll see.

They'll destroy your world.

And soon.

A few months. At most, three or four.

Three...

four.

Shut the door.

His name was Arthur Farnley Selwyn.

He had command of a destroyer in World War ll.

Made captain, earned himself a chest full of medals.

Then he took part in the tests at Eniwetok.

He turned sour, resigned his commission and disappeared.

And that is all we know about him.

I liked it on that ship. I had work to do. My kind of work.

Bills I didn't have.

Yeah, I was running away, I guess, but, well, it was nice.

I could even skip a meal if I felt like it.

Oh?

Oh, Elsa, I didn't mean that I... I'd...

Oh, it's all right, Harry.

Tonight you won't have to eat dinner.

Thank you.

Oh, well, Illya, in that case, I think we'd, uh, best...

Oh, no, no. You two stay. Enjoy yourselves.

Harry can watch.