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Мятеж на Баунти

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Maggs is my clerk. It's not
for my men to question his orders.
Nor for you to question mine!
I want your apology.
I have nothing more to say, sir.
Then you can dine elsewhere
on what you can get!
-Mr. Bligh.
-Byam.
Gentlemen.
Come, he implied it,
didn't he, Mr. Byam?
Well, I can also dispense
with your company!
Thank you, sir.
So you're all against me,
officers and men.
Won't eat cheese, eh?
Before I'm done with you,
I'll make you eat grass!
I'm so hungry, if my mother
would reach out to pet me...
...I'd have a bit of her hand.
There's fish there, all right,
but they're making jokes about the bait.
You see--
If I could prove what I suspect, I--
No, I wouldn't.
I'm so weak, I'm peaceful.
Muspratt, Burkitt,
look here, supper.
What?
Why--
Why, Mr. Christian, sir.
Take a look at this, sir.
Supper for six men.
Four pounds, they calls it.
If that weighs more than 2,
I'll eat the cat-o'-nine-tails.
-It ain't pig. It's horse meat.
-We pulled our hearts out for this breeze.
-And what do we get? We starve.
-Well, little meat, no distemper.
Keep the wind in the sails
and out of your stomach.
If it's any comfort,
the officers are in the same boat.
Not Captain Bligh.
He's getting fat, the dirty, thieving--
Burkitt!
Any more of that,
and I'll clap you in irons.
Yes, sir.
Buckoes. Buckoes.
Here's your supper.
-Thompson, get your hook and line.
-Right.
See him? He's a big one, eh?
-Here you are, Burkitt.
-Right.
Well, we've got to have bait.
Sharks ain't seamen. They expect to eat.
We've got to have bait.
-You want to risk this for a meal?
-Aye.
-I'm willing.
-Yeah.
If the hook don't kill him, that pork will.
Let it go.
There he goes. There he goes.
-Got him.
-On deck with him.
-Easy, now. Easy, now. Easy, now.
-Hold him.
You first, Burkitt. Choose for your mess.
-Thanks, mates.
-Yeah, fine catch you've got there.
You know I must have a slice, eh?
-Shark eat shark?
-You forget yourself.
You give me a slice, a nice, large one,
and I'll say nothing.
Tell him, you slimy quill-pusher.
Take your slice!
At ease, lads. At ease.
Well, how's our shark-killer, huh?
He's cut to bits, sir.
He'll be all right.
What's a flogging?
A few blows and a few "ohs,"
and then you put on your shirt.
-Here.
-Thank you, sir.
Now, if you'd lost a leg, my lad....
I left mine with a Spanish pirate
off the coast of Trinidad.
A bullfighter did the trick for me.
He was so drunk he nearly
cut off the wrong leg.
Hey! Here.
You'll be all right.
A bit tattooed on the back perhaps,
but just the right style for Tahiti, eh?
-Hey, fiddler, give him a tune.
-Aye, sir.
-Good night, lads.
-Good night, sir.
Listen, Byam. You can flog
those fellows, starve them...
-...but they'll bob up again with a fiddle.
-Music at sea...
...I never imagined
how beautiful it was.
Master-at-arms,
stop that infernal jamboree.
-It's worse than two cats on a fence.
-Aye, aye, sir.
The old death's-head.
I've never known a better seaman,
but as a man, he's a snake.
He doesn't punish for discipline.
He likes to see men crawl.
I'd like to push his poison
down his own throat.
You both have one thing in common,
the devil's own temper.
He can let his go...
...but whether I can keep mine bottled
up for the next two years is a question.
I believe you will.
Whatever happens, I'll always
be glad I've known you.
I'll remember that when you're
an admiral. Good night, youngster.
Good night.
-More tea, sir?
-No, you get out.
Yes, sir.
-You sent for me, sir?
-Yes, I've got a job for you this morning.
-Sit down. Had your breakfast?
-Yes, thank you, sir.
I want you to sign the list
of all supplies issued on the voyage.
Certify and sign.
We should raise the island anytime now.
Not a bad voyage so far.
All hands accounted for.
Only six down with scurvy.
Five with scurvy, one with flogging.
Correct, there's your credit.
Five with scurvy, one with flogging.
We're still under
Мятеж на Баунти Мятеж на Баунти

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