Horatio Hornblower - Prisoner Of The French On The Peek

Call all hands, beat the quarters.

One out of the guns, turn by, let's turn it better.

One broadside into it, please, Captain Bush.

Point is on target.

Lin's not ready.

Eyes on, my name.

Fire!

Presenting Michael Redgrave as CS foresters in dominant land of the sea,

Horatio Hornblore.

I shall never forget my 18th birthday.

Usually when a man's young, birthday is a joyous occasion.

But there I was, in the year 1794, young midshipman Horatio Hornblore.

And I was a prisoner on board a French privateer.

That was the saddest birthday I ever had.

And here's the way it began.

A week before my birthday, I was a drift on the Bay of Biscay,

in an open boat with four British sailors and ten captured Frenchmen.

Midshipman Horatio Hornblore had lost his first command.

Don't take it to our Mr. Hornblore, sir.

We're bad to get picked up sometime.

Not even be by our own ship, the Indivatiable, sir.

Wish we'd never left the Indivatiable, Matthews.

It wasn't your fault.

That blasted brush ship flanted under us.

I don't remember to patch up that hole in the hole, Matthews.

If I'd remembered in time, it was below the waterline, sir.

The lower above, I should have had my wits above me.

It was that cargo riced on the damage, sir,

so can up every drop of water that come in.

By the time we realised it had swelled all up,

spit that cargo ship apart like it was a pea part.

The Maddie Galant, my first command.

I didn't think it'd happen to anybody.

The old man, take a fountain.

Captain Palau won't flying you for it.

I bled myself, but don't you see, Matthews?

I was ordered to take over the Maddie Galant

after the Indivatiable stopped, and she was a prize of war.

My orders to sail at England, not to the bottom.

I bled myself, and I shall tell Captain Bluey, sir,

when I make my report.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Ombler, sir.

You've come.

The wind's back in.

Yes, sir.

I know it, Matthews.

We'd better take in the Ciancanoi style, sir.

If it holds, we may manage to clear usherms

and set a true course for England.

Hunter!

Hunter!

All in that Ciancanoi.

Hunter, call our prisoners to attend to me.

You're still rated my petty officer, you know?

I work there, fodder.

Human shears.

Wake up on your feet.

Well, what is what is underneath?

We're hoisting sail.

Have your men stand by the heliots.

Live enough.

I'll be on soon.

I'll care.

I'll call.

Don't seem to want to, sir.

They're arguing with their officers.

Sir, I know this.

Here he comes, man.

That's far enough, sir.

Sir, I asked for them.

In this small open place, sir.

Sir, I asked for them.

In this small open place, sir.

People from where are?

I ordered your men to make sail.

We may eat up fears you are.

Setting a strange course.

And what's strange about it?

You have termed the killer to wed West.

That is no way to reach the coast.

It is the coast of England.

Hello, sir.

Hello, sir.

Monsieur, Monsieur, to wait for England, this is insane.

A small open boat, it is under the miles.

Yes, it is.

French coast is no more than 30 or 40 miles.

Monsieur, you know, I'm not a lieutenant.

I'm a gentleman.

Yes, sir.

Keep your distance.

This is madness.

My men will not obey.

Pest.

How old are you?

16, 17.

I shall be 18 next week.

A child.

A near child.

How can you give orders?

I am more than twice your age.

A seasoned mariner.

There is only one course.

To wait for sure.

France or whatever, it not does not.

One step further than this pistol will go off.

Are you?

You order, shouldn't you?

One step and I'll pull the trigger.

You order him and the horse sale.

The first one in the disobeys will be shot.

I mean, refuse you.

Give that order.

Yeah.

Is he the word?

Hey.

Hey.

Well, that's that.

I, Mr. Ornblower, sir.

A proper ferocious you look for that pistol.

Mind if I make one suggestion, sir?

Just someone.

Next time, you're better cocked up, Mr. Orn, sir.

Why it is now, it wouldn't be in fire.

Yes, many things I had to learn when I was young, midshipman, Ornblower.

I remember how my knees shook as I sat in the stern sheet.

How furious I was with myself for getting to cock a pistol.

Well, the tiny open boat sailed westward.

And for two days there was no sign of a sail anywhere except mine.

And then, at dawn of the third day.

Mr. Ornblower, sir.

Wake up.

Oh, Francis.

There's a sail there and down on the sail.

Where?

Off the port quarter.

Well, it might be our own ship, Matthews.

I, I'd jump at the end of magical pool.

Pick us up.

Oh.

Yes, sir.

It's still far from full daylight.

But the top end of that vessel is clear to make out.

Yes.

It ain't being defatcable, sir.

No.

Sorry.

No, it's not.

Still an all.

It might be other British ships standing blockade off this coast.

It might be French.

Aye, sir.

It might.

We'll know soon enough.

It's coming right down on us.

Welcome aboard, sir, to the French pivotier, Peak.

I am Captain Newville.

And you?

I am midshipman Ornblower.

This Britannic medicine is ship-interpathicable.

You were in an open boat?

We kept the surprise.

I was put aboard and come on.

It sank.

Well regrettable.

Now the tables are turned.

The queue of your pies are free.

It is you who are pleased with us.

No, no, no.

Your pistols, please.

And that dear com.

I have sure show you to your quarters.

Will you come?

Well, now this ain't bad, Mr. Ornblower, sir.

You like the quarters, Matthews?

Come in.

Oh, Captain Newville.

You are surprised, Mr. Ornblower.

There is a reason for my quick return.

Two of your crew are proving difficult.

Carson and Hunter, perhaps, whatever their names.

They have been ordered to do work aboard the peak.

And they are refused.

And why in Brisegate shouldn't they refuse?

That's enough, Matthews.

Captain Newville, my man and I are prisoners.

By the international code governing treatment of prisoners.

I am not concerned with the code.

You forget, I am a privateer.

I set my own rule.

But there are no buts, my dear young man.

This shall work.

Or I will have them thrown over the side.

You wouldn't there.

I assure you it is highly probable.

And this man also.

His name?

Matthews.

Matthews.

Well, Mr. Ornblower.

Matthews, you will go between decks until Hunter Carson

and Smith to comply.

And you also.

Hi, I say.

I make an exception only in the case of officers.

It's my thanks.

How old are you?

What's that?

I have a mind.

Very young, I am certain.

But you will become more ardent with age.

Now, my friend.

Is there any courtesy I can extend?

I don't know what.

Perhaps some...

Well, reading matter?

My fear.

I have only professional books.

Ranges, principles of navigation and librarians.

And book on Siemenschi.

The French.

You cannot read French.

I have lived.

Well, I might as well learn.

You shall have them.

And you shall also have the freedom of the ship, Mr. Ornblower.

But do not attempt anything.

My crew have moved sharp eyes.

It's not like the lamps, sir.

Yes.

Well.

I...

Well, I might as well read.

Yes, my despair was as deep as the pit.

As wide and endless as all solos of use.

And I felt most particularly low-spitted on that.

One special day.

Today's day, sir.

And did you lie the fourth?

Well, congratulate me, Matthews.

It's my birthday.

Now.

Born 18 years ago, July the 4th, 1776.

Do you ever have a birthday cake, Matthews?

Me, sir?

No.

I did every year that I can remember until I joined the Navy.

A cake, now.

Better than ships biscuit any time, I'd say.

Was it a good cake, sir?

Oh, was.

My mother baked it.

Must have been then.

And one year she put candles on it.

Candles?

She's on top small candles and lighted them one by one for each birthday.

Oh.

Well.

You don't sound impressed, Matthews.

Don't know, sir.

Who can enjoy a cake with candle drippings all over it?

No, you blew them all out before they dripped it.

It was good luck, Matthews.

Lighted candles meant good luck.

Hmm.

Well.

No candles today.

No, sir.

No cake either.

Mr. Ormler, it's all four stuffy cooped up in this cabin.

Why don't you spend some time on deck?

I will, Matthews.

Tomorrow.

Well.

On deck today, Mr. Ormler.

Yes, sir?

And how do you like our good ship peak?

Oh.

Well.

Your ship's better, yeah?

Yeah.

Yes, sir.

It means she handles well, Captain.

Oh, sir, she does, Mr. Ormler.

I extremely well.

Fast and light.

And there is none better before the wind.

Now, make yourself at liberty.

Oh, hurry, hurry and go.

Each sail goes sail.

Morning, Matthews.

Morning, sir.

No, no.

Keep on working.

I bought this vessel you take orders from them.

I only stone the deck and pick oak them.

Well, you had the same duties aboard the indefatigable.

I used to swear about them.

I wouldn't swear now.

Even though our ship's got twice the deck this has.

At least your kept busy.

I don't know which is worse.

Being busy.

Oh, sorry, the deck.

Sail the whole sail.

Sail the whole sail.

Sail the whole sail.

Matthews.

The look I pointed towards the starboard bomb.

I saw it.

I'm pulling the swords.

Quick, man.

Well.

Well, Matthews.

Speak up, man.

Is it British?

It's heading this way.

It's the indefatigable, sir.

I'm a line of line, man.

I swear it's the indefatigable.

It's more years now than I care to count.

But I remember that moment well.

Myself as a midshipman.

One day, beyond my 18th birthday.

A prisoner aboard the French privateer of Peak.

I blamed myself for being a prisoner.

But my heart jumped at the prospect of rescue.

A sail had been sighted.

It was only a speck on that distant horizon.

But it was instantly recognizable as a glimpse of home.

The indefatigable.

It's caught sight of us and said,

of course, this way.

It's her own ship, Matthews.

Sir, I might have been mistaken.

All that's shown is the top camera.

You're not mistaken, Matthews.

I recognize that cut anywhere.

At any distance.

You can make up more of her now.

Yes.

Yes.

Captain Polly was losing her oil.

It was all sail set.

Oh, Matthews.

We'll be back on board in time for a drug.

Do not set your hopes too high, Mr. Ombler.

Captain Melville.

Wait.

Your late ship, I understand.

Yes, I...

Possibly.

A frigate or should not.

A British frigate.

Without guns, you three to one.

First, it must come within range.

What is our best point of sailing?

I had a few to answer that question.

Oh, please don't look so noble, Mr. Ombler.

I could induce you to give the information there are ways.

Unfortunately, for you, it is unnecessary.

There is no ship on earth.

Especially none of his Britannic majesty's clumsiest frigates

that can outsell the peak running before the wind.

I don't believe it.

Then you shall see.

Where ship?

Steady bike!

Come out!

Well, your sea, Mr. Ombler.

Yes.

Already your India fatigue bell is falling for a stern.

Yes, I can see.

Yes.

Two more hours, and we shall have one armass dead on those.

Very likely.

For certain.

Close that door.

Quick.

Aye, sir.

Catch those mattresses off the cots.

The mattresses?

Aye, aye, sir.

Paper and paper.

I need paper.

Oh, the box.

I hate to tear up bronze on principles of navigation.

Don't stand there, Matthew.

It was over here.

Here.

Aye, sir.

Mr. Ombler.

No, I haven't taken leave of my senses if that's what you're thinking.

Now, rip those mattresses open.

Rip them?

Yes.

It's tall.

Good.

Pull it out, Matthew.

Pull it out.

I'll pile the straw up here on top of the paper.

That's it.

Don't pitch me the leg.

Aye, sir.

Careful of it, sir.

It's fair.

It's fair.

It's the heart of the better.

It has grease inside.

It has hot grease.

And luckily, it's lighted.

And the grease goes over the straw.

Oh, my God.

Now, Matthew, we'll take one page from principles of navigation

and make a tape for our bits.

So, I have a load of adhesive.

Fire.

You know what's behind that wall?

Yes, sir.

The paint locker.

There's nothing burnt like paint.

Or dry wood or cordage.

So, with pits and taunts.

That tape I gave you.

Quick.

Erata.

A peaky sailing before the wind.

And this cabin's in the stern.

We'll be load-decks.

If it gets started, the wind will blow the flame's fire.

If I don't discover it first.

Yeah, we'll not talk about that.

You better start it, sir.

Yes.

Looks like a candle, doesn't it, sir.

A small flickering candle for a birthday cake.

Well, it'll make a brighter flame by fire.

I hope.

All right, Matthew.

We'll get up on deck.

You have started a bomb fire, sir.

No, no, no.

Leave the oil open and say behind us.

My day opens it's about to fire, sir.

Well, it can't have a fire without a decent draft.

And, either way, it's a gamble now.

Come on.

Up on deck now.

I'll do your best to act as if nothing were to miss.

Fire!

Fire!

We ran forward from five desperate men.

It was a reckless sortie, but well, completely hopeless.

The bow gun was well-attended.

As I led the way, I came full face against Captain Nervil.

Sir, you cannot shoot us in co-blood.

Cold, I boil with despair.

My beautiful ship peak.

You shall be thrown over side.

You shall be...

I advise you to put up that pesto and surrender, Captain Nervil.

Those are the guns of the Indopathic of all.

They all turned and looked.

And I remember how I looked.

I stared at my heart in my eyes.

The peak lay idle, wallowing in smoke and ruin.

And bearing down with all sail-setter,

a wave, creaming white under her bicep,

came the Indopathic of all.

She rounded to her capable length to winwood,

her gun ports open at the ready.

First came launches to fight the fire,

and then, swarming over the side,

came an armed party with Lieutenant Mason in charge.

I'll never forget the amazing ones in his eyes,

but he caught sight of us.

Oh, Lord!

You will haunt us!

What are you doing here?

Well, sir, you should never mind now.

You'll make your report to Captain Theliot.

Now, where's the captain of this wreck?

I am the captain, sir.

Ah, extremely bad luck, sir.

Lieutenant Mason of his majesty's ship, Indopathic of all.

I will accept your surrender, sir.

Come in.

Mitchip and Hohnblah are reporting to Captain Theliot.

I told you in for some further questions.

Hohnblah, it's not entirely clear.

What, sir?

You divert most of your report to the Reichship.

From the Mary Galam?

Yes.

You appear to blame yourself for looting her.

It was my fault, sir.

I will assess responsibility.

You mean, I'm not to blame.

I believe I have already so stated.

Go along.

Horatio Hohnblah, starring Michael Redrave,

is based on the novels of CS Forester,

music composed and conducted by Sydney Torch,

produced by Harry Allen Towers.