Horatio Hornblower - Alliance With Russia

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Point of ontoget. Windstuffer. Eyes are ready. Fire!

Presenting Michael Reddry, who has seen as far as to his indomitable man of the sea,

a ratio of hornblower.

It's strange how hard life can be well at sea, and yet how much a man can approve of

it, even welcome it.

On this several months ago, I'd been a country squire, so a ratio home lower, in residence

with my lovely wife, Lady Barbara.

During fashionable clothes sitting down each meal to handle, choice foods, and yet my conscience

troubles me in saying it, I'd left it all with no trace of regret.

And once aboard the Nonsuch, a Commodore now, in command of a squadron of six vessels,

I felt really alive.

Not until Brown, my orderly reminded me that evening of Born Home, did I realise I hadn't

so much as touched the delicacies that Lady Barbara had so forthfully provided when we

sailed.

There's cheese, sir, and there's wine, and there's butter in crocs.

A lady's ship made a special point that the butter would turn rancid, as it was used

in.

On time for supper, Lady Brown, for Belser, and Captain Bush is downing with you as usual.

I should think a bit of cheese instead of ships biscuit, and so beef would be a welcome

change.

There's nothing wrong with biscuits and beef, Brown.

Good night, if I ever have them.

Oh, yes, sir.

Oh, but you're picking your pardons, your eyes.

A signal from the raven, sir.

The raven, what is it?

She cited a Swedish vessel of ones to speak with the Commodore.

I see.

Must have someone of importance aboard.

All right, I'll come on deck.

Ask Captain Bush if he'll be kind enough to join me.

Aye, aye.

Sir, well, Brown, oh, what we shall have for supper, oh, oh, suit yourself, Browns.

Suit yourself.

For Brown, no sooner had I snapped at him than I regretted being so busk, get how could

I bother with food with my mind full of so many concerns?

We'd been a month already in the Baltic, with express orders from the Admiralty to make

it as uncomfortable as possible for Bonaparte.

A show of British strength was needed, definitely.

Russia was neutral, but with all your up in Bonay's grasp, Russia's help was desperately

important.

So what strength had we shown?

A few small engagements, it would take more than that to bring the czar to side with us

against Napoleon.

As I stood on the quarter deck beside Captain Bush, waiting for the Swedish vessel to come

alongside, I came near to killing in my doubts and what is.

I decided against it, at least for now.

There's two of them coming aboard, sir.

The quarter comes to that first one and say a sweet, and I hope he brings some news

wherever he is.

How long has it been since we've had any Bush?

I'd say weeks, sir.

So should I.

For all we know, Bonaparte may have already attacked Russia, or Russia may have given up

without a struggle.

Yes, sir.

Sir, the second one aboard.

If there isn't a British uniform, I must stop this.

It is.

A guard's uniform.

A Colonel Bush.

A Colonel of the guards here in the middle of the Baltic.

Uh-huh.

At least he knows enough of ceremonial to make sure his salutes are quarter-deck.

Very nice, sir.

You are Captain Sergeant Horatio Hornblanc?

Yes, Commodore, commanding the squad.

I'm Colonel Lord Witchwood.

I have the specials view from our ambassador to Stockholm, sir.

And I've also several of the latest newspapers.

Newspapers are good.

We've been quite short on news, of course.

I'm sure you have.

Oh, have you made your claimants of barren battle?

I've heard.

These are representative of Sweden.

He also has some messages.

Well, gentlemen, forgive me.

Perhaps the best place for this discussion would be in my cabin.

Captain Bush and I were just about to die, and if you'd be good enough to join us.

Well, our table can still go to few small delicacies.

There's cheese.

Still, to my believe.

Oh, Ron.

Yes, sir.

But there's cheddar also.

And there's smoke, mutton, and jam, sir.

We'll break it out at once, Brown.

Lord Witchwood, I notice these newspapers are in German and Polish.

Fireshow?

You can translate.

I...

Barbrecht.

I was right there, sir.

English good enough for me, sir.

And you, Bannon?

Big pardon.

German, I can, to some extent, but the Polish know.

Oh, well, we'll manage, Bannon.

Bush, will you pass the word to my clerk, Sorgger, to come to my cabin at six bells?

He's a film, but he's told me that he speaks all the Baltic languages.

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This one is the Königsberg-Hartenschütz-Sightung-Saharae Show.

Published and a French censorship, of course.

It reports on a meeting at Dresden.

Bonaparte is there.

At Dresden?

Yes, Banner.

Go ahead, Sophie.

Go ahead.

There are nine Army Corps.

At Dresden.

At Warsaw.

At Dancing.

Huh!

All-ended rasseries of beer is home, blah.

How many men would you say that meant all together?

Well, you'll be able to calculate that better than I can.

Oh, yes, yes, Army Man.

Of course.

Oh, but the light shade might come to half a million.

But here is something, Saharae Show.

The Warsaw Gazette has a long article about Russia.

Well, I read it so.

I read it.

It calls Alexander the barbarian ruler of a barbarian people.

Thank you so much.

I think that we'll do for now.

Yes, sir.

Good night, gentlemen.

Strange one, that one, Commodore.

He has hate in his eyes.

Possibly, Banner and Banner.

However, it goes late.

And if you and Kermel which would intend going back ashore,

we'd miss it.

Kermel, Kermel, home, blah.

I don't think we are going ashore.

What's that?

To put it another way of Banner and Banner.

And I wish to stand more than unside.

This is a ship of war, Kermel.

I'm afraid.

I must insist.

And now I'm here to present this to Spassar.

You will notice it from his Britannic magicians

and ambassador to the court of Stockholm.

Let's see.

Bonaparte has invaded Swedish Polymerania.

Now, this is news.

Banner and Bassie is Sweden and no longer neutral.

There has been no formal declaration of war.

Yes, but you have been invaded.

Uh-huh.

I understand.

There's much still depends on Russia.

Is that it?

Everything depends on Russia.

We sketchly could move along.

Oh, Banner, that's one reason we are here.

To prove to you that you are not alone.

The Banner says the dispatch explains more fully.

So, Horatio.

Yes, thank you, thank you.

I am directed and required to enable Lord which would

to open communication with the Russian government.

So as to assure his imperial majesty, the Tsar,

of the full support by land and sea of British forces

in the event of war between Russia and France.

I am further directed to make use of any opportunity

to present itself to further better relations with the Russians.

Better relations?

What's that mean, sir?

Diplomatic language, Bush.

It means bring young Tsar Alexander into our camp as an ally.

Exactly, exactly.

And by whatever mean?

It had better be soon.

The 600,000 of Napoleon's troops massed on our borders.

A show of strength that Sweden cannot match.

We've got our own strength, Bell.

Strength kept in bush.

Six British ships.

Oh, no, no, don't look down at those.

Isn't that better?

Besides, Alexander's a curious fellow.

As a matter of his own, highly emotional.

Never know what my influence in one way or the other.

Might be anything.

Oh, no disrespect is great evidence, of course.

Well, come at all.

Can a witchward disdispatch employees the words directed and required?

Yes.

May I point out that the wording should have been request and advise.

An ambassador cannot give orders to enable officers.

Where do I say now?

Furthermore, my orders from the Admiralty said nothing about taking part in politics.

Politics, sir?

Important politics?

Sir, what could be more important than to convert Alexander to your cause?

A naval officer, not a politician.

Spill.

Sir, if I may point out something, it's true.

There's no need to point it out, Bush.

I know what you're going to say.

The very presence of a British squadron well to eastward in the Baltic

could have a sizable effect on Alexander.

Yes, sir.

Gentlemen, I offer you the hospitality of my ship.

Captain Bush, will you give orders to alter our course if you please?

Our destination is the Russian port of Clontstadt.

A small stat.

We had arrived in Clontstadt Harbor.

harbor. Not all night long we lay under the guns of Russian forefaces. I tried to show much more

assurance about his whole queer project than I felt. But at least the Russians had returned our

entering salute. The following morning we had only one visitor, the harbour doctor, to give us

pratique. I accompanied him to the sick bay and to index. No sickness, no plague, no pestilence, none.

Yes I have seen for myself only the wounded man, his name, left hand and wound. Yes, yes he does

very well, after using.

Later that morning the wind began to floor. It was very light, changing first from one quarter to

another. I had requested which wood in the bottom and bush from one or two of my senior officers

to meet me in my cabin. There was much to decide. And one of them, I think it was Lieutenant

Adams, gave voice to what we all had on our minds. Changeable sirs, what these Russians are,

it's like the wind, exactly why we're here Mr. Adams, we can do nothing about the weather,

we must do something about the Russians. When does his majesty arrive on board exactly?

In Cognito, Baron, remember? In Cognito, the Cone, the North. His party will arrive at seven bells.

Sir, we'll be taking on war from far with them. Yes, so we will, Bush.

I can give orders to have it put off till tomorrow. You will have to serve any elaborate luncheon,

sir, I shall. What in mid afternoon? No, absolute, with Russians, there must always be something to eat.

The Baron's ride hall, Blah! Is there a custom always? Very well, we'll offer him something to eat.

Why not? Oh, pity that buttery horse has turned rancid. You know what, I'd suggest,

for Blah. Send a party ashore, dig up some of that caviar stuff, and stirs in all whatever it is,

fish. These rascals positively do it on fish. Then, oh, this is a bit of a ship.

My dear fellow, what's it got to do with it? When in Rome, you know the rest of that one?

Yes, yes, you must bake a considerable impression.

Politic, my dear, for Blah. It would be most politic.

Shall I put off the water of far with them? No, Bush.

No. But how can we take in water and be in a fit-state bizarre to come aboard, sir,

unless we water the fritter of first? From what I've heard of the czar, he's a man of sense.

You'll show him the hands of work. That's all, ship's routine.

That work? It's common, sir. You're in every quarter of the ship,

exactly, Colonel, between decks in the rigging in the sick bay.

As for food, we'll give you what we always have.

Ship's biscuit, pea soup, royal beet. Oh, my dear, fairness,

but with home blower, I do believe you must be mad.

Affend the czar in that manner, he'd go over to burn apart because of wink.

I've date of you to toss, biscuit, pea soup, and royal beet,

flawed, which would. Now, you've all been recommending if we put on unnatural

airs. I don't believe in that kind of dissembling.

He wants to see a British ship of water, does he?

Very well, then. He shall.

Good afternoon, Commodore Hornblower.

Permit you to present the count below.

Good afternoon, Commodore.

I hope a little visit has not dis-commoded you greatly.

I'd like to welcome you to the Anadam, the ship's room.

I'd like to present the table Lord Whitwood.

How did you ah, madam, sir?

Good afternoon, Besson.

Captain Bush, master of the Nantes.

You're certain, sir.

Captain Bush, we look aboard us to prepare the ship for taking on water and plywood.

Mr. LeCorn, if you'd care to see more of the ship, I would indeed.

The gun deck, sir.

Watch your heads.

I'll give you the gun.

I'll give you the gun.

I'll give you the gun.

I'll give you the gun.

I'll give you the gun.

I'll give you the gun.

I'll give you the gun.

I'll give you the gun.

There's that little clearance for the man of your height.

Who?

So I observe.

We've opened the gunports to give you a demonstration, sir.

Mr. Carlin, if you please.

I have it, sir.

I have all stations.

I'll give you the gun.

You'll notice the guns are loaded blank.

Cannonballs are precious.

Not easy to come by when long it's season.

I think the blank will suffice.

Halt! Halt!

Stop it, Sergeant!

Fire!

Interesting.

Most interesting.

The midshipman's breath, Monsieur LeCorn.

This tiny space, yes, sir.

Come and all.

You were once a midshipman yourself?

For four years, sir.

In the British Navy, everyone starts at the bottom.

Four years.

You lived four years in a bath like this?

Well, not quite as comfortable as I said.

I was in a frigate.

This is a battleship. It's not as crowded.

I suppose it is necessary.

How long have you served?

I've been in the Navy 19 years.

How long is your present rank?

There's come a door only two months.

Nine years before that is captain.

Six years after that, and four years as a midshipman.

Nineteen years.

And yet you seem none the worse for it.

Sir, they've been my happiest days of my life.

Monsieur LeCorn, it grows late.

May I suggest luncheon?

Now that we were seated in my cabin around the table,

the wave of doubt swept over me.

We old doubt.

And when I was certain that what I'd done was utterly wrong.

I cursed myself for a headstrong fool.

What did an imperial monarch care about life on board amount of war?

All he said was incredible, amazing,

and then left tenant atoms,

reached for a ship's biscuit.

He wrapped it on the table, and I wished with all my soul that I were dead.

Why do you do that, sir?

This, oh, when I was just, uh, um,

break-and-tenu, Mr. Adams,

we do that, sir, to get rid of the weebules.

The weebules?

Insect families, or he's knocking them out.

Yes, that's right, sir.

If you tap gently, they come out of their own accord.

This way.

Do you see, sir?

Uh, yes.

Yes, I see.

Have a bush.

Will you pass, Monsieur Leconte, biscuit tram?

No, no, no, thank you.

I, I think not.

Thank you.

Mm-hmm.

Brown, will you serve the soup?

Yes.

Pea soup, Monsieur Leconte.

In the British Navy, pea soup is a tradition.

Pea soup?

Mm.

Eh.

Why?

This is extremely good soup.

Yes, extremely.

I commend it to your excellency.

Well, I, uh, come, come, Brown, serve us all.

He's excellency of the minister.

That I'm passing.

I have a hungry as a bear.

This, uh, rum, it's, uh, very good.

Right.

Quite strong, however.

It's British rum, your excellency.

The lifeblood of the Navy.

Sir, does Bonaparte need a reason for invasion?

He's a tyrant.

Tyrants make up any excuse or none at all.

Now, he controls the entire Baltic coast

as far as the frontiers of your, uh, his, of his Imperial

Majesty's domain.

And now, that is very continual.

Well, I know little of politics.

And what literally, you know, seems to be most important.

Bonaparte has threatened Russia.

There are great decisions to be made.

I understand that the prince Bernadotte is meeting

with his added pitiful.

At any moment, yes, I've heard that too.

Sir, Bonaparte threats are always serious.

His methods are always the same.

My demand and then another demand.

A concession and then another concession.

And finally, when the last concession is made

his foe two week by then to resistfully,

he marches in and makes an easy conquest.

He wishes every nation in bondage to you

are very eloquent.

I speak from the arts.

I speak for Lord Richwood and Captain Bush

and Lieutenant Adams and Lieutenant Karlin.

I speak for every British soul

who's fought against his monstrous power

and to what effect have you fought?

Britain is still free.

Yeah, Britain is striking back.

Portugal is free at last.

Sicily too.

Thanks, England.

There is only one way left for Bonaparte to turn.

We've closed him in on the south and the west and the north.

And all that is left to him is the east.

Imperial Russia.

You guess, sir?

The hour strikes.

Gentlemen, may I propose a toast?

To the emperor of all the Russians.

The Emperor.

The Emperor.

Gentlemen, another toast.

The King of Great Britain.

The King of Great Britain.

If you please, pray, my dear colonel,

will you refill the glasses?

Gentlemen, I give you Commodore Horace Johan Blower

and the British Royal Navy.

May they join with Mother Russia

to defeat the French tyrant's oil

with horses so that we all drink.

Oh, yes, most heartily.

Horace Johan Blower, starring Michael Redgrave,

is based on the novels by C. S. Farrester.

Music composed and conducted by Sydney Torch.

Produced by Harry Alan Towers.

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