friends has deprived
the fleet of its regular supplies
leaving me no alternative but
to cut the rations...
- by half.
-Half, sir?
Indeed, Mr. Hornblower.
No doubt Captain Foster
will be forced to follow a similar
prudent path.
Yes, sir.
A side of beef and a gallon
of rum, if you please.
Sounds like you've been
at the rum already.
-What's this?
-Half rations. Captain's orders.
On account,Bunting,there's been no
supply ship for seven weeks.
What of the captain?
Is he on half-rations?
That's dangerous talk, Bunting.
You'd better bite your tongue
to save it.
Styles.
Oldroyd.
Finch.
And that should just leave
Bunting and me.
For what we are about to receive,
let us thank the good Captain Pellew.
It's a gallant British man-of-war
lies in Gibraltar Bay,
And the jolly jacks aboard her wish
that they could have their say.
But, they must keep
their mouths tight shut although
their thoughts be dark.
-Cleveland!
-Yes, sir.
See if you can't put an end to
that infernal racket.
Cleveland, the nightingales are
in full voice tonight,
-are they not?
-Yes sir,
but Mr. Hornblower
has little time for birdsong.
It is a clear and cloudless night
and the wind
was steady and strong.
And we have laid in Gibraltar Bay
for many a day too long.
Biscuits one, pease pudding none,
-"and salt beef only half…"
-You men, I said you men!
Acting Lieutenant Hornblower requests
a little less gusto in the chorus,
if you please.
Biscuits one, pease pudding none
and salt beef only half.
Our rations will not feed a man but
our officers only laugh.
It's a gallant British man-o-war
lies in Gibraltar Bay,
And the jolly jacks aboard
her wish that
-"they could have their say."
-A moment, Mr. Hornblower.
-Sir?
-You sent a message to quiet the men.
I merely wish to concentrate
on my studies, sir.
Is something troubling your mind?
I fear there is too much to learn.
I can't help but question
my readiness.
Yes, I remember my examination.
Like you, I spent weeks with
my nose in a book,
and was fortunate to be tested on
a subject I knew well.
But, it's after the examination that
the real test begins.
-Sir?
-A book can teach you how to
steer a ship,
but it can never show you how
to manage a starving crew.
The men are afraid, Horatio.
Many have seen before
the effects of prolonged rationing.
They fear a future
-of disease and death.
-But why are they singing?
Given the choice between
singing and weeping,
which would you fancy?
A good lieutenant gets to know
the ways of his men.
If you wish to test your
readiness, begin there.
Out or down, Out or down.
Up and out.
You look like I feel, Finch.
It's just me lungs has caught
a wind.
Pull me up.
-I can't take your ration.
-You need it more than me.
Boswain's not half-rations.
Over here, lads! Lend a hand.
-What's happened?
-Fallen.
-Is he all right?
-He's weak, sir
too weak to climb the ratlines.
-Lack of decent grub, I reckon.
-Take him to the sick berth.
We sit around doing nothing
while the Spanish
-pick off our ships.
-At your ease, there, Mr. Hornblower.
We should be out there, following
Captain Foster's example.
Captain Foster failed,
as I remember it.
Better to try and fail than
to sit and rot in disease
and starvation.
I believe you have overstepped
the mark, Mr. Hornblower.
I apologize, sir.
Well, Finch, you seem to have landed
yourself a comfortable position.
-How soon before we're home?
-Home?
-Mr. Hornblower?
-Yes, that's right.
At your ease, Man, at your ease.
It's the old muscles is letting
me down a bit, sir.
-How long have I been here?
-A few days now.
It seems...This darn fever.
-I can't rightly remember.
-You'll make it through.
How long now till Portsmouth?
Not long now.
'Reckon he's getting worse, sir?
-He seems confused.
-Fever, sir.
I've been trying to keep him going,
keep him awake,
and