Horatio Hornblower - Napoleon Is Defeated

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Call all hands.

Speak the quarters.

Turn over the guard.

Turn by this table better.

One broadside in the literature, please, Captain Bush.

Point as on target.

Fire is on, ready.

Fire!

Presenting Michael Redgrave as C.S. Faresters in Domitable Man of the Sea.

Horatio Hornblower.

Fire!

Fire!

Even now, so long afterwards, it's difficult to see how I could have acted otherwise them as I did.

I was still a naval officer.

It was my duty to have the enemy of my country as far as lay within my power.

Yet this pitiful little guerrilla war of mine and the forests and the valleys of the Upper Luire was obviously a losing battle.

As we plotted through the southern heat over the forest track, I felt that the end was near.

Of our gallant army, there were only 30 men and two women left.

And the men that was exhausted and dispirited as myself.

Horatio, your feet are so blistered you can hardly walk.

Why do you not take my oaths for a while?

Oh no, my friend, Mr. Schiller, can't you?

You're more exhausted than I am.

Besides, it's not fitting that the kings that stand in general should wobble through the forest like a woodcutter.

Who stands younger?

Where's the facts, sir?

Arthur.

One of the advanced guards.

He is pointing.

What is this, Arthur?

Oh, I can see it.

It's a present.

I hang from a tree.

Here's the card on his chest.

It is a proclamation by General Closin, calling on all Frenchmen of the Nivermer to rally to Bonaparte.

It's worse.

Don't affect the men, read it.

It offers pardon and freedom to any who desert the kings cause.

I'm afraid they already know my friend.

They found a similar proclamation while we were ahead yesterday.

The amnesty last for three more days after which any rebels will be shot at sight.

Any village offering us help will be burned and it's in habitant shot.

Somehow we must keep them together for three more days.

After that, they will fight for their lives.

Are you and I, Mr. Laconte included in the amnesty?

We are expressly excluded.

The last sentence reads, exceptions to the amnesty.

Arthur Conte de Grasse, his daughter-in-law, the Vicente de Grasse,

and the Englishman known as Lord Hombler,

who is required to pay for a life of crime.

I forced my aching feet to quicken their stride to catch up, Mavie.

She was a vastly different Mavie from the happy, young Vicente,

who had laughed and loved with me at the shuttle de Grasse.

She had torn off her hair with a knife.

She was wet with sweat and speak with dirt.

She carried a musket song across her back.

Yet when she had insisted on joining us,

she had claimed to be as good as any man,

and she'd fulfilled that boast.

She was still fresher and more determined than many of the men.

Before it begins by those trees,

he took a ledge under the surface,

but I feel it is too deep or ready.

I will take the arsehole and try it.

Here, let me inside my damp.

Here, this is no choice for lighting.

Sure, I am a lady no longer.

I am a soldier of the king.

It helped me into my studies.

My habit is in the way.

Though she says, Brian,

my RAM is fresher than me and the good writer.

Good luck, Mary.

Oh, hey, I'm sorry.

The river is impossible.

It's if Yucky the horse was tall enough to swim ashore.

Yes.

I could not have fought the current.

I did not wish to try,

but it would have been useless to argue with you, Mary.

Well, there's nothing to do but follow the river

until we find a boat.

We cannot stay here.

Oh, we are quiet.

Very well, men.

It's here we say goodbye.

You are not leaving us?

How are you, sir?

No, I'm not leaving you.

You're leaving me.

Your life's a safe.

You've all read Clause N's proclamations.

But my down and the content,

and I must go on for...

Go on, we must.

And we'd still go on, even if we need not.

But we should return.

Remember us.

Yes.

But we should return.

Remember us.

When you're in your homes,

one day we shall call on you again

to thrust on the tarant.

And now,

one last cheer for the king.

Be the little one.

Be the little one.

Though I tried to keep the parting on a same level,

my bones that we were going to die.

My hardest task was to force Brown to leave his wife.

It was the only way to save her.

And in the end, he barbed to the inevitable

with many oaths to return.

But Marie could not stay.

My life was forfeit.

She must come with us, even more of death,

may at the end of the ride.

Marie, the Countess almost at the end of his telegram.

She must make plans.

Think how to escape her.

What is the position?

Is there a column close to us?

As far as I've gathered from our skirts,

clothes, columns, our spread renders in a half-circle.

So, there are troops behind and to the sides.

And the river in front.

Yes, yes.

Behind us is a half-column, the 14th leg there.

They must be noted the pursuers die wrecked while the others head us off.

Let us keep along a river bank a little longer than.

Then we'll rest till dawn and try to make a crossing.

Later, we slept in fits and snatches until dawn.

We lay on the wet ground in saturated clothing,

and it seemed the most natural thing in the world

that Marie and I should lie in each other's arms.

It was warmer thus in any case.

The surge of love and tenderness which swift me

had nothing to do with passion.

War was behind us and death before us.

Nothing could come between us in these moments.

For half an hour before dawn,

I slept tranquilly with my head on her shoulder.

Perhaps that was the happiest half-hour I've ever given to a Marie.

Her love for me had brought her little happiness.

But the rest bit was brief.

When the first light we were off again,

our horses seemed weary than ever.

Well, the rain stopped anywhere, my lord.

Oh, it looks out being awkward in these miscreas.

Yes.

Surely we must reach a farm soon,

where they'll have a boat.

Then we can cross the river, steal some fresh horses,

and shake off the pursuit.

Quick.

Hold.

Left wheel.

Behind us.

Behind us.

Behind us.

What is it to reach you?

Look.

Those buildings below the ridge.

Is it a farm?

Shall I go and spy out the laminal?

Yes, sir.

I'll watch you for any signal.

We must lie low.

There's any troops around.

They'll be courted here, but I can't see an end.

Wait a minute.

Look.

There's a young woman and an old man.

I don't look back.

It is a boat.

Lying by the water's edge.

Brown is attracted to the girls' attention.

They're talking.

But he's waving to us.

It is safe.

Oh, come on.

Then the slew's here on time.

It's all right, Melod.

So, Frogs was here yesterday.

Cavalry.

Then, Samu's ours.

We beat last week.

All right.

Left here yesterday morning.

So, the old man is.

Oh, very well.

There's no time to lose.

Let's get the boat launched.

There's boat.

Last Melod, I wish you could launch it.

Why?

What's the matter with it?

Just look at this, Melod.

Someone's been at this boat with an axe.

They've bought them smashed in in four places.

ответ

Let's Melod.

How should I get my boat back if you take it.

If you take it, we shall only cross the river.

You can come with us and bring it back yourselves.

I shall be shocked for helping you.

But those stars will come back.

They always do require to help pessimists.

We're busy.

The fact is I'll cop your car and help yourself.

You might get shot if you help us,

but you will get shot if you don't.

Now, this is war, and don't you forget it.

Oh, hello.

Hello, here's my damn body back.

What is it, Marie?

Who's that?

Coming along the main road from the south.

About 20 of them, I should think.

They'll come down here, but they always do.

We must ride off and hide.

Come on.

Put the repairs on the boat, sir.

They'll see them.

Well, there's no time.

We must risk it.

Oh, right, sir.

Now, listen, Odin, if the Uzzars come here,

you'd tell them it was you that was repairing the boat,

say?

Oh, come along.

Come back to the hollow behind the willows

where we hid before.

Ah, swifting high.

We must hide among the rocks and watch.

This will do.

I'm afraid this is our last stand.

Here they come.

Well, we're only three men and a woman with pistols,

but we must make every shot tell them.

We are four men.

Four determined men.

Behind the rocks, all of you.

Face in different directions so that they cannot flank us.

Oh, yeah.

Here they come.

They're firing already, but they're

only wasting part of it this way.

Marie, save your shots.

Oh, God, Marie.

Marie, what is it?

But even as I spoke, I saw Marie fall over

from the impact of the bullet, which

its truck had encores to the fire involuntarily.

I saw the possible look on her face changed to agony.

And then I was at her side.

She'd been stuck on the thigh.

I felt for my pen life to rip off the clothes.

But at that moment, a shattering blow on my shoulder

flung me to the ground.

In my anxiety for Marie, I'd heard nothing

of the bizarre charge or the shots of Brian on the count.

Second days, I struggled to my feet,

ignoring the carbine butt above my head.

All that mattered was Marie.

My toy opened my mouth.

But Marie was limp and lifeless at my feet.

She was dead.

A pity he's over, my friend.

We are disarmed and captured.

They caught Marshal with fire you this evening.

Wait, this man, Brian.

He is a prisoner of war.

You cannot try him.

He is a sailor of his pretending

medicine's navy, doing his duty under my order.

He fought on the side of weapons.

Under my orders, he's not amenable to court Marshal Lee.

Because you credit push before him,

I will take this matter into consideration.

I've done some damn cold, more pain.

And then blessed sleet.

When I woke, my head was clear.

And I amazed the captain by demanding a bath on his shave.

If I was to be sentenced to death,

I intended to appear as a British officer

or not as a tramp.

When I was clean and shaved, they brought me food and wine.

The Emperor won two great victories last week.

Your Wellingtoners met his destiny at last.

General Ney beat him at a place called Lé Capra Bra.

And on the same day, the Emperor destroyed

Blue Shire and his Prashans at Lini.

Indeed.

And how did this news reach you?

By official bulletin.

My felicitations, Mr.

But is there not a saying in your army

about lying like a bulletin?

Enough.

The court is waiting.

No, no, no.

They have already tried the Contagracé.

He is to be shot at dawn tomorrow.

The prisoner has already admitted his identity.

He is a ratio, Lord Omblur,

Commodore of the British Navy.

It only remains to submit to this court

the verdict of a court-martial held on June 10, 1811,

wherein this said,

Horatio Omblur was condemned to death for parasy

and violation of the laws of war.

I must request that the death sentence be enforced.

Lord Omblur,

it is the sentence of this court

and the order of this military commission

that shall suffer death

by shooting a dawn tomorrow.

Immediately after the execution of the Webual Crusher.

I think your excellency's pardon

but pallet for a hand not shot

is the order of the commission that he be shot.

Remove the prison.

Thank you, Eriksonsi.

I'm ready.

My cell was dark.

It sank upon my mattress.

There it was.

I was to be shot.

This was the last round of the struggle

I had waged against Bonaparte for 20 years.

There was no arguing with bullets.

Our pitiful little rebellion.

Our armies scattered the count condemned to death.

Marie died.

Oh, Marie.

My little Marie.

She loved me and my father had killed her.

And Barbara,

what would she think of her late husband?

She would guess why I had come to France

and would guess that my infidelity

would be hurt.

What a shambles I had made of my life.

What had I brought to all my friends

and loved ones but pain, dishonor,

and with death?

What is it, huh?

What is it, dawn already?

It is, Monsieur la Capita.

Good morning, Lord Omblore.

Good morning.

You need not force yourself to smile, sir.

I do not need your sympathy.

Your words are toer than you know, sir.

You do not need sympathy indeed.

It is not death.

What do you mean?

Is this some new form of torment?

No, sir.

There is news from Belgium.

It says that the emperor has been defeated

in a great battle.

It has been defeated.

But what about the defeat of Wellington?

The true tell me of him.

It seems we were misinformed.

Now we hear that the emperor has been defeated

in a great battle at a place called Waterloo.

It is said that Wellington and Blusher

are already over the frontier and marching on Paris.

Oh, God.

And Bonaparte, where is he?

He is in Paris already.

The senator demanding that he abdicate again.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Horatio Hornblower, starring Michael Redgrave,

is based on the novels by CS Forester.

Music composed and conducted by Sydney Torch.

Produced by Harry Allen Torch.

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