Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

Come on. It's all right.

Yes, it's all right.

Wake up, Will.

Starboard bow ahoy.

- What is it, Slade? - Thought I heard somethin'.

Sounded like a bell.

- Native fishermen, perhaps. - Or a reef marker, sir.

Mr Calamy, the lead, if you please.

- By the mark, five fathom. - Five fathom.

Sand and broken shell.

What is it?

Two points off the starboard bow, in the fog bank.

What was it? A sail?

- I don't know what it was. - Should we beat to quarters?

- I can't be certain. - You're officer of the watch.

Hollom, you must make a decision.

We shall beat to quarters.

Rouse up. Sleepers awake.

Move. Move along.

Jump to it, boys. Jump to it.

Light along there.

Sighting in heavy fog.

- Handsomely on the yards tackle. - Topmen aloft.

Where away?

Two points off the starboard bow, sir. Not a mile distant.

- You sure, Mr Hollom? - Yes, sir.

Man-of-war?

I don't know, sir.

It was only for a moment. I thought I saw a shape.

- Did you see it, Mr Calamy? - No, sir.

You did the right thing, Mr Hollom. Go to your stations.

The deck's yours, Tom.

Sir.

Clear away. And launch boats.

- Quit your dawdling. - You heard the man.

Lower away.

Haul both your yard tackles.

Strike the bell.

Down. All hands down.

Hands to your stations. Mr Hollar, damage report, if you please.

18-pounders. We'll have to get closer. Run out the starboard battery.

Mr Allen, come up on the wind. Lay me alongside at pistol-shot.

Sharpshooters to the tops, Mr Howard.

Sergeant. Take your section into the main top.

We stand tall on the quarterdeck. All of us.

- Mr Boyle, run up the colors. - Aye, sir.

"Engaged enemy frigate at six bells."

- Straight at 'em, Mr Mowett. - Straight at 'em, sir.

Bill.

Leave the swords. Get the captain's silver below.

She's not in range yet. Stand fast till she's close enough.

- Close with him amidships. - Midships it is, sir.

For God's sake, don't drop anything.

Steady.

- Hold your positions. - Hold your position. Courage, now.

- Hold steady, boys. - Don't worry, lads, we'll serve 'em out yet.

Mr Pullings, sir. Davies, Jemmy, get Mr Pullings below.

Aye, sir.

Mr Blakeney, pass the word for the captain.

Clear the forward pin rails.

More sand on the floor.

On the up-roll, fire!

Down!

Relieving-tackles on the tiller. You men, collect these wounded.

- Keep 'em spitting, Mr Calamy. - Aye, sir. Reload and give 'em hell.

Sir. To the taffrail.

The rudder's shot away. The steering don't answer.

We're fish in a barrel.

Why are we not firing?

Let me through.

Here, Joe.

Hold it in there.

- He's on the larboard bow, sir. - Bring up your small arms.

Prepare to repel boarders.

Seize your weapons and wait for the word.

Your orders, sir?

Call the gun crews to deck. Rig man-ropes over the stern and pull the boats in.

Put us in that fog, Tom.

Pull together, men.

Pull for the fog bank.

Run 'em out.

Fire!

She's opened up a seam. We need to get some oakum and pound it in.

Joe, a mallet and some irons.

She's gaining on us.

- We're nearly there, boys. - Pull.

- Reach for it, men. - We're home inside that fog.

Fire!

Pull for Lucky Jack.

We've done it.

Pipe down. Silence on deck.

They'll not find us in here.

Quiet, lads. No shouts, no calls.

Avast rowing.

Well done, lads.

Two feet six inches, sir, and holding.

- Good work, Mr Lamb. - Thank you, sir.

So, what's the butcher's bill?

Nine dead, 27 wounded.

Joe Plaice.

He has a severely depressed fracture of the skull. I don't think he'll see out the night.

Lord Blakeney.

Just a broken arm, sir.

You're in very good hands.

I'm doing everything I can. I know you were close to his father.

His father would've understood. He knew the life. His mother, however...

Let me take a look at that brow of yours.

What?

Damn, he was good. Just came out of nowhere.

Hit us with a full broadside, cut across our tail and took out our rudder.

Damn fine gunnery.

We only slipped away because of the fog. Quite fortunate, really.

He may have had the weather gauge, but we had the weather gods.

I have no idea what it is you're talking about, but he did seem to come off rather well.

Seven weeks sailing, and he happens in darkness on our exact position.

The French have their spies in England and elsewhere. As do we.

Indeed.

If he knew we were looking for him, he could have stood to sea and passed well clear.

Well then, perhaps he was looking for us.

If she was a frigate, then I am a Dutchman.

It was an unfair match. There was no dishonor in it.

She was more like a ship of the line.

You have to wonder about her hull. Our shots wouldn't penetrate.

Triple-shotted at 200 yards - no effect.

She had the weather gauge and a clear advantage in firepower.

What is the weather gauge?

- Shall I show you again, Stephen? - Not on the cloth.

It means she had the wind in her favor, therefore control of the engagement.

And she had longer guns, so she could hit us beyond our range.

The simple fact is we were soundly beaten.

- Heavy frigate like that in the Pacific... - Could tip the war in Napoleon's favor.

By comparison, the Surprise is a somewhat aged man-of-war.

- Am I not correct? - Would you call me an aged man of war?

The Surprise is not old. No one would call her old.

She has a bluff bow, lovely lines. She's a fine sea boat, weatherly, stiff and fast.

Very fast, if she's well-handled.

No, she's not old.

She's in her prime.

We can patch up the main and mizzen. Foresail's gone, so we'll bend our spare.

Mr Lamb is confident with basic repairs. We can get home as we are.

We're not going home.

But to refit we need a port, and the Acheron may be still looking for us.

We can refit at sea. Here, where it shoals.

As you said, she is taking the war to the South Seas. We are supposed to stop her.

But, sir - with respect - she's a vastly heavier ship. She's out of our class.

She could be halfway to Cape Horn by the time we're repaired.

Well then, there's not a moment to lose.

Is it true they put the last stitch through your nose?

What do you mean?

Joe said when you die, they stitch you in your hammock with the last stitch in your nose,

just to make sure you're not asleep.

Not through the nose. You'll tell them?

It's all right. It's just the laudanum speaking.

I've never seen a braver patient.

Poor darling. Never mind, soon have you fixed up.

I want good work now.

I'll need two men into the starboard forechannels. Roberts, Chadwick.

That's nice work there.

Repair won't do here. I need these replaced.

Mr Calamy. There's something might interest you here.

Look. The captain carved that. When he was a mid, no more than your age.

He's known this ship man and boy.

He says there's enough of his blood in the woodwork for the ship to almost be a relation.

I do understand your point. Your knowledge is beyond question.

However, a week in the Brazilian rain forest looking for a new mast simply will not do.

The Acheron will be halfway to China.

Mr Lamb, as always, will do his best. Which is all I can hope to expect from any man.

Is them his brains?

No, that's just dried blood. Those are his brains.

Physician, he is. Ain't one of your common surgeons.

- Can I have the coin, please? - Sir.

He wouldn't look at you for under ten guineas on land.

And he knows his birds and beasts.

You show him a beetle and he'll tell you what it's thinking.

Back to work, you loafers. Eckhart, use your pipe.

Let's get on with it, gentlemen.

You're not a pennyweight of use gawpin' here.

Still hasn't said a word, sir.

Lord Blakeney. Feeling better?

Much better, thank you, sir.

Well, good. Good.

The doctor told me you were fond of reading, so I...

It has all of his major battles and some fine illustrations.

Thank you, sir.

Did you ever meet Lord Nelson, sir?

I had the honor of serving with him. At the Nile. A great victory.

You can find it in here, actually. Page 135, if I'm not mistaken.

Yes.

May I beg you to tell me what kind of man he is?

You should read the book.

I will, sir. Thank you.

Here we go again. Scrape-scrape, screech-screech.

Never a tune you could dance to, not if you were drunk as Davy's sow.

How about this?

Or are you in the mood for something more aggressive?

Salute.

Hats off.

What's all this about?

- What's this? - It's the phantom, sir.

Excuse me. That's what the men call it. It's the Acheron, sir.