Horatio Hornblower - Prisoner Of The French On The Peek

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Presenting Michael Redgrave as C.S. foresters in Dominable Man of the Sea, Horatio Hornblore.

She has a DEATH of birth, yet she has a large, fucking health-c싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶싶-

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 hornblurk,

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 adrift on the bay of Biscay

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

Midshipman hornblurk had lost his first command.

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

We're bad to get picked up sometime.

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

Wish we'd never left the Indefatigable, Matthews.

It wasn't your fault. That blasted brush ship flanted under us.

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

If I remember the entire, 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 I be every drop of water that come in?

By the time we realized it, it swelled all up.

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

The Maddie Galant.

My first command.

I'm thinking of that into anybody.

The old man.

Take a fountain.

Captain Polu won't blame you for it.

I bled myself.

Don't you see, Matthews?

I was ordered to take over the Maddie Galant

after the Indefatigable stopped.

She was a prize of war.

I had orders to sell it to England, not to the bottom.

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

when I make my report.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Ohmblow, sir.

You've come.

The wind's back here.

Yes, I know, Matthews.

We'd better take in the Ciancanoi style.

If it holds, we may manage to clear Auschwitz

and set a true course for England.

Hunter.

All right, sir.

Hunter.

All in that Ciancano.

All right, sir.

Hunter, call our prisoners to attend to me.

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

Aye, you're up there, fodder.

Human shears.

Wake up on your feet.

Well, what is that need?

We're hoisting sale.

Have your men stand by the Halliards.

Violin, ah.

Bien, sir.

I don't care.

How cool.

I think.

Don't seem to want to, sir.

They're arguing with their officers.

So I know.

Here he comes, ah.

Now, that's far enough, sir.

Sir, I asked for them.

In this small open vault, it is our people from where you are.

I ordered your men to make sale.

We may interfere, 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.

Hello.

Hello.

Mr.

Mr.

to wait for England, this is insane.

A small open vault.

It is hundreds of miles.

Yes, it is.

French coast is no more than 30 or 40 miles.

Mr.

you.

No, I'm not a lieutenant.

I'm a gentleman.

Yes, sir.

Keep your distance.

This is madness.

My men will not obey.

Pest.

Oh.

How old are you?

16, 17.

I shall be 18 next week.

A child.

A knee of child.

How can you give orders?

I am more and twice your age.

A seasoned mariner.

There is only one cross.

To wait for sure.

France or whatever, it not does not.

One step further than this pistol will go off.

Are you?

Your order should.

One step and I will pull the trigger.

The order I am in the high sale.

The first one in the disobeys will be shot.

I mean, refuse you.

Give that order.

Yes.

Is here a word?

Yes, sir.

Hey.

Hey.

Wow.

That's it.

I, Mr.

Hornblower, sir.

A proper ferocious to look for that pistol.

Mind if I make one suggestion, sir?

Yes, sir.

Next time, you better cock the pistol, sir.

Wait.

It is now.

It wouldn't even fire.

Yes.

Many things I had to learn when I was young, midshipman Hornblower.

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.

Then, at dawn of the third day.

Mr. Hornblower, sir.

Wake up.

Oh.

Passers.

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

Where?

Off the port quarter.

Well, it might be our own ship, Matthews.

I'd premp at the interfactical for 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 defactical, sir.

No.

Sorry.

No, it's not.

Still and all.

There 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 Privatore Peak.

I am copied on New Zealand.

And you?

I am midshipman Hornblower.

This Britannic medicine is ship-interpathicable.

You were in an open boat.

We captured the prize.

I was put aboard it.

Come on.

It sank.

Only breathable.

And now the tables are turned.

There.

The queue of your pies are free.

It is you who are pleased with this.

No, no, no.

Your pistols, please.

And that dear...

I have sure show you to your quarters.

Will you come?

Well, now.

This ain't bad, Mr. Hornblower, sir.

You like the quarters, Matthews?

Come in.

Oh.

Captain Nervil.

You are surprised, Mr. Hornblower.

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.

A wine blind skate shouldn't they refuse.

That's enough, Matthews.

Captain Nervil, my man and I are prisoners.

By the international code governing treatment of prisoners.

I am not returned with the code.

You forget I am a pivotier.

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 dare.

I assure you, it is idly probable.

And this man also.

His name?

Matthews.

Matthews.

Well, Mr. Hornblower.

Matthews.

You will go between decks and tell 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?

You never 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.

Unbook on Siemens.

You are the French.

You cannot read French.

I have lived.

Well.

I might as well learn.

Yeah.

You shall have them.

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

But do not attempt anything.

My crew have most sharp eyes.

Yes.

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-spirited on that one special day.

Today's date, sir.

And did you lie the fourth?

Well, congratulate me, Matthews.

It's my birthday.

I am very happy.

I am very happy.

I am very happy.

I am very happy.

I am very happy.

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 would 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?

Is on top small candles.

I would like them one by one for each birthday.

Oh.

You don't sound impressed, Matthews.

Don't know as I answer.

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.

Extremely well.

Fast and light.

And there is none better before the wind.

Hmm.

Now make yourself at liberty.

Oh, hurry.

Hurry and go.

Each sail goes down.

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 at about them.

I wouldn't swear now.

Even though our ship's got twice the deck business.

At least you're kept busy.

I don't know which is worse.

Being busy.

Oh, just...

Oh, the deck.

Sail the whole sail.

Sail the whole sail.

Matthews.

The look I pointed towards the starboard bar.

I saw it.

Look, I'm pulling the shoves.

Quick, man.

Well.

Well, Matthews.

I speak up, man.

Is it British?

It's head in this way.

It's the indefatigable, sir.

Or I'm a blind man.

I swear it seemed depatigable.

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 Peek.

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,

course, this way.

It's her own ship, Matthews.

Sir, I might have been mistaken.

All that's shown is the top camera.

It's your own mistake, Matthews.

I'd recognize that cut anywhere.

It's any distance.

You could make up more of her now.

Yes.

Yes.

Captain Polio is losing her oil.

It's all sail set.

Oh, Matthews.

We'll be back on board in time for Grog.

Do or not, sir.

Your hope's too high in this year on Earth.

After Melville.

Where?

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. Rambler.

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 clumsy frigates.

That can outsell the peak running before the wind.

I don't believe it.

Then you shall see.

Where's the ship?

Steady bike!

Come on out!

See for the land!

Come on out!

See for the land!

Come on out!

Well, your sea, Mr. Rambler.

Yes.

Already your India fatigue bell is falling for a turn.

Yes, I can see.

Just two more hours, and we shall have one amastate under us.

Very likely for certain.

Close that door.

Quick!

Hi, sir.

Catch those mattresses off the cots.

The mattresses?

Hi, sir.

Paper and paper.

I need paper.

Oh, the box.

I hate to tear up grandsons' principles of navigation.

Don't stand there, Matthew.

It was over here.

Here.

Hi, sir.

Mr. Rambler.

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

I'll rip those mattresses open.

Rip them?

Yes.

Here, man.

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.

Come on.

Now fetch me the lamp.

Hi, sir.

Careful of it, sir.

It's fair, Oscar.

It's the heart of the better.

It has grease inside.

It's hot grease.

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 paper of it.

So?

Hi, the Lord, how is that?

Hi, sir.

You know what's behind that wall?

Yes, I have a paint locker.

There's nothing burnt like paper.

A paint or a dry wood or a cordage soaked with pitch and tile.

That paper I gave you, quick.

Here, Arthur.

The peak is sailing before the wind.

And this cabin's in the stern.

We'll be low decks.

If it gets started, the wind will blow the flames forward.

If I don't discover it first.

Yeah, we'll not talk of that.

You better start it, sir.

Yes.

Looks like a candle, doesn't it?

Sir.

A small flickering candle for a birthday cake.

Oh, my God.

I'll make a brighter flame by fire.

I hope.

All right, Matthews, we get up on deck.

You have started a bomb pie, sir.

No, no, no.

Leave the door open and say behind us.

My dear ones, it's about the fires.

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

And either way, it's a gamble now.

Come on.

Up on deck now.

And do your best to act as if nothing were to miss.

Fire!

Fire!

We ran forward.

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 aside.

You shall be...

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

Those are the guns of the Indicatorical.

The old town looked.

And I remember how I looked.

I stared at my heart in my eyes.

The peak lay idle,

wallowing in a smoke and ruin.

And bearing down with all sail-setter,

a wave, creaming white under her bicep,

came the Indicatorical.

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 shall never forget the amazed ones of his eyes,

with the cold side of us.

Oh, God!

Oh, Lord!

You hung up!

What are you doing here?

Well, sir, you should...

I'll never mind now.

You'll make your report to Captain Teleo.

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,

been departicable.

I will accept your surrender, sir.

Come in.

Mr. Ben Hombler reporting to Captain Teleo.

I told you, in for some further questions.

Hombler, it's not entirely clear.

What, sir?

You divert most of your report to the Reichship.

The Marie-Galant?

Yes.

You appear to blame yourself for looting her.

It was my fault, sir.

I will assess responsibility.

You mean, I...

I'm not to blame, sir.

I believe I have already so stated.

Go along.

Horatio Hornblower, starring Michael Redgrave,

is based on the novels of CS Forrested.

Music composed and conducted by Sydney Torch,

produced by Harry Allen Towers.

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