In the Heart of the Sea (2015)

[bunniefuu]

How does one come to
know The Unknowable?

What faculties
must a man possess?

Since it was discovered
that whale oil

could light our cities in
ways never achieved before,

it created global demand.

It had pushed man to
venture further and further

into The Deep, Blue Unknown.

We know not its depths,

nor the host of creatures
that live there.

Monsters, are they real?

Or do the stories exist only to make
us respect the sea's dark secret?

The question both
vexes and excites me,

and is the reason I've written you
a second time to request a meeting.

A conversation with you, Sir,

I believe will serve me well
for the novel I intend to write,

currently entitled Moby d*ck

I hope you will
reconsider my offer.

The Unknown, that is where my
imagination yearns to venture.

And so, the question plagues me still:

How does a man come to
know The Unknowable?

Sincerely, Herman Melville.

We're closed!

No borders after eight o'clock.

You came.

There's someone here for you, My Love.

Tom Nickerson?

Herman Melville.

We received your letter.

You're either a desperate man or a
fool to come all the way to Nantucket.

Well, my offer still stands.

Three months'
lodgings for a single night's talk.

It's all I have in the world.

But I'd prefer to think
of it as an investment.

I want you to tell
me what happened...

to the Essex.

Well,
what do you think happened?

There are rumblings,
rumors that the Essex...

What do you want?
What story do you expect to hear?

That of The Whale.

The Essex ran aground,
there was a full inquiry.

I believe the inquiry
was less than truthful.

Get out.

You are the last
survivor or the Essex, Sir.

If you won't talk, who will?

You do not hear me, leave now.

- You mustn't go, please, just take a minute...
- He's in no mind to talk, and

I haven't come all this way to
be humiliated and waste my time.

Please, Mr. Melville,

he won't talk about the Essex to me,
to anyone... never has... never.

I don't know anything about him.

His soul is... in torment,
and in need of confession.

Please, just let me
talk to him... please.

Love,

I believe it would do you
good to talk to the man.

No!

You listen well!

Who holds this place together
while you drink yourself to death?

You WILL talk with this man,
as much as is necessary...

to keep the money.

You know our circumstances, Tom.

Only as much as is necessary.

I'll get whiskey.

I neglected to mention it in my letter,
but I was a whaler once.

One trip.
I mean... green hand.

So, you've seen it all.

My wife read your books.

- She enjoyed them.
- Happy to hear it.

They had good sales,
but I think that THIS story

could surpass even the success of my
first novel... which did quite well.

Another of your seafaring yarns.

Have you read Hawthorne, Mr. Melville?

Now, there's a writer, a great writer.

He is.

But he is not here, and I am...

for my own particular reasons.

I'll tell you of the Essex,
I believe you will be disappointed,

but every word I say will be true.

The story of the Essex
is the story of two men...

Captain George Pollard,

and his first mate, Owen Chase.

Owen, you don't want to be late.

I'll be there, besides, can't have our
daughter sleeping under a leaky roof, can we?

What makes you so sure it's a girl?

Well, it has to be, so she can remind me why
I have to love you, and you being stubborn.

If it's to to be a daughter she'll
be a version of you, not me.

Blond locks and determined
to conquer the world.

I suppose after today you'll be tradin'
in that tunic for a uniform.

That's right, finally out of this patch
of dirt for a captain's house in Quaise.

I don't need one of those houses
in town with stuffy neighbors.

There's plenty room here
for the three of us.

Ya know, sometimes your kind heart
and good nature is just unbearable.

Go get your captaincy.

- What's your bid?
- One ninety.

I've got a thousand
gallons at two dollars!

I'll take 40 shares.

Seller, seller, over here!

Criterion's back with a fine
haul, 1600 barrels.

A new record, 50 pounds Sterling
for headmatter on the London market.

Good morning Mr. Chase.

- Mr. Mason.
- Come in, please.

My partner, Benjamin Fuller.

- Good morning, Sir.
- Do sit down.

Mr. Chase, I do hope you
realize how satisfied we are

with the work you've done
for us over the years.

Oh, thank you, Sir.

And one of our ships, the Essex

has just be refitted at great
expense and is to go to sea.

Now, having made such
an investment in her,

we want to be sure she's
in the best possible hands.

So...

it gives us great pleasure to
offer you a position aboard her...

as first mate.

- As first mate?
- Uh-hum.

Mr. Mason, you... you promised me command
of a ship after my last voyage when

I brought you back 1500 barrels,
do you remember? You gave me your word.

That promise must now be deferred.

Like everyone else we've
had a mean time recently.

Well, never on my watch.

Nantucket now dominates the world market,
that must not change.

This is no time for experimentation.

The Essex will be
captained by George Pollard,

scion of a great whaling family.

His father also happens
to be our patron.

Blood, Mr. Chase, you can have all
the voyages under your belt you want

but blood will always win out.

Yes, well, blood's not gonna fill
the ship with oil, Mr. Mason.

To successfully command, a captain needs
respect, now, what if the men don't respect him?

You will make sure that they do.

Good day, Gentlemen.

I understand your disappointment.

So...

A one-fifteenth lay.

And that's more than I've ever
paid any first officer.

And if you bring back 2000 barrels of oil,
I'll give you my word,

next time you WILL
have your captaincy.

You've given me your word before,
Mr. Mason.

So, this time I'll take it in writing.

Captain Pollard, we've just had a most
agreeable conversation with Mr. Chase,

who'd be honored to serve under you.

I'm glad to hear it.

Now I'm to babysit a greenhorn.

Some cheerless Nantucket born
with a damned silver spoon in his mouth.

I should have thrown their
offer back in their faces.

Why? You now have the
offer of command in writing.

Yes, well, a liar's word is worthless,
even ON paper.

You know I'd love you just as much
if you were a merchant captain?

And you wouldn't be
gone for two years.

I won't be gone two years.

A Bedford whaler came back
last week was gone three.

She lost two men and still
with her hull half empty.

Well, they were from Bedford
and they didn't have me aboard.

Son of a bitch!

I will captain my own ship...

a whaling ship.

Up to them all we'd ever
have is a patch of dirt

and that's not going to happen, Peggy.

Those'd be your father's words, not yours.

What's wrong with his words?

He wanted things for his family, for himself.

- He was a dreamer, Owen
- Yes, he was.

Dreamed of the sea and never
got to sea with men like them.

At least he got to
see his children born.

It's all I know.

I'm sorry.

I married a whaleman.

I'll come back as quick as the sun is night,
I swear.

Please come back...
promise me.

I already swore to you,
now you want me to promise, too.

I promise.

Son, a word with you.

To be a captain, you cannot be a
friend, you are their superior.

Never forget that,
never let THEM forget that.

Thank you, son.

Your great-grandfather and a few
others created this industry.

Without us, without you,
the world plunges into darkness.

I hope to bring honor
to the Pollard family name, Sir.

Thou didst, O Lord, create the mighty whale,
That wondrous monster of a mighty length;

Beyond conception his unmeasured strength.

But, everlasting God, thou dost ordain
that we, poor feeble mortals

should engage ourselves,
our wives and children to maintain,

This dreadful monster with a martial rage.

O Father, grant that your
glorious light shine on these men,

and assure them a prosperous voyage,

that they may return SAFELY
unto the womb ship.

So that the white whales
of Nantucket whale oil

may continue to keep
light in our homes,

city streets safe from sin in the night,
fuel the machines of industry,

drive our great nation forward,

as our noble species evolves.
In Your name, we pray.

So, what month is this?

Oh, late in the year,
we were one of the last ships to go out.

Which is why my friend Barzillai
and I got a berth.

Look, I was fourteen... fourteen.

Nickerson, you're standin' around, boy!
Move!

First time at sea,
scared, more scared to show it.

Barzillai was seventeen.

Orphans, grew up on the wharf,
both in a hurry to be called men.

What are you all guys waiting for?
Get it aboard! C'mon! Haul away...!

What are those pins
they're wearing?

Those are whale pins, Thomas.

How do I get one of them?

Well,
you've gotta thrust a k*lling lance.

The largest beast ever
to breathe on the earth.

Nickerson,
get the green stuff to Mr. Bond.

Make it quick, damn it.

I shall have twelve of those one day.

Put 'em on the Grandira casket.

Well, well,
you being on board means only one thing.

Yep! At least there's one person on this ship
who knows the truth about Owen Chase.

No, but all the other ships
have already crewed up.

No, no, I'm a reformed man, Owen,
the question is are YOU?

Don't tell me Matthew Joy
has put down the bottle.

I have sinned.
Has Owen Chase put down his temper?

Serene as the Church.

I'll believe THAT when I see it.

Given our captain I'll give
your serenity about 48 hours.

Good luck.

- Pollard, George Pollard.
- Owen Chase.

- Chase, your father's name, isn't it?
- Yes, it is.

Very shortly he will be off island for
some time and I'll be very much at home.

I say, I was surprised, normally
a captain gets to choose his first mate.

An experienced captain, yes.

Of course, you can understand
from the owners' point of view,

they wanted to put their
investments in the hands of men.

Indeed.

They probably wanted a
little extra reassurance, that's all.

Well, DO keep an eye on me,
let me know if I'm doing anything wrong.

I'd have it not other way, Captain.

Shore up the anchor.

- Head's in the wind, is the top rail off?
- Aye.

- Collard, Take the helm!
- Aye!

Mr. Joy, make sail.

Mr. Cole, Mr. Chappel,
stand by this anchor!

Mr. Chappel, take the helm!

Boyd! Why aren't those braces laid out?

Set the sail, god damn it!

Heading to scram.

- Captain! Heads up!
- Behind you head, Captain!

- What happened, Mr. Sheppard?
- The jalousie felled the sheet, Sir.

- The jalousie's jammed!
- Chase, she still won't clear!

Watch your step!

It's the jalousie, Owen!

Stand clear!

Nice piece of work, Mr. Chase!

If we make Cape Verdes in
the next 2 weeks we'll

have a decent chance of reaching
the Pacific on schedule.

Corn, Mr. Chase?

No, thank you, Sir,
never did have much of a taste for it.

That's odd.

- So, your father grew corn on Cape Cod.
- That's right, he did.

As you can imagine, I suddenly
grew tired of eating it every day.

Corn, okra, beans, I believe?
Before he went to jail.

Are you familiar with this story, Mr. Joy?

Were you aware that Mr. Chase was effectively
orphaned due to his father's incarceration?

Well, we all have our paths to sea.

That's a motive to not
ask too many questions.

Can't have been easy though, yet...

You had Nantucket's great
seafaring family to adopt you.

This is far from the first time
I've been called a landsman...

or off-islander by some Nantucket reminding
me how I am NOT part of their family.

Now, if the captain will excuse me,
there are whale boats and watches to assign.

- No, Sir, not for me.
- Not a drop?

No, Sir, like I said, sometimes the
fewer questions one asks, the better.

That's a gorgeous girl, Mr. Joy.

Region of move me that,
carved from a Far East whalebone.

No touching!

I always thought you
were married anyway.

I am, and there she is.

Well, that's her nose anyway.

Congratulations, ladies.

That was a fine job trimin' sails today.

A sorrier pack of deck-whalers
I don't think I've ever seen.

- Mr. Chappel.
- Sir.

Captain's harpooner.

- Mr. Lawrence, you'll be mine.
- Aye, Sir.

And Mr. Peterson, second mate's harpooner.

Aye, Sir.

There'll be six men to a boat,
first rules in the row, six bells sharp.

We're not even east of Halifax, Sir.

- What's your name?
- Coffin, Henry Coffin.

He's the Captain's cousin, Sir.

Well, well, Mr. Coffin, do you think
a whale knows it's east of Halifax?

I don't know who all of you are,
or how you got here,

Some of you probably have felonies,
or are hidin' or on the run.

That's fine, I don't give a damn,
but we interred you for just one thing...

and one thing only,
and that is whale oil.

I intend to fill our 2000 barrels
and be home as quickly as possible.

And even when the weather is fine
and there ARE no whales, Mr. Coffin,

we will lower the boats and practice all
maneuvers necessary in a capture of a whale.

And any man who is idle will find himself
swimmin' to home. Is that understood?

- Aye, sir. Aye, Sir.
- Aye, Sir.

Green horn, on deck!

On ya go!

Aye, aye, landsman.

- Thomas Nickerson, right?
- Aye, Sir.

Ya know, some feel sick at first.

- Pull me back up!
- Best way to square up to King Neptune, Boy.

Please, bring me up.

Better now?

Sir, I am so sorry.

Well, now you got something to
write home to your mother about.

My mother's buried up in Smith's Hill,

and a stone for my father, too, he was...

he was lost at sea before I was born.

Here, give me that.

The whale's is your family now,
Boy, for better or for worse.

For worse mostly.

Swab the deck, Kid!

You're a long way from base
to be whaling and sailing.

Aye, aye, Captain.

- You got that line wrong, Nickerson.
- Aye, Captain.

We'll stay at this until
sunlight if we have to.

Aye, Captain.

Harpooners make ready to boat.

- Need to move quicker, Mr. Ray!
- My mistake.

Ain't no more wee whores, Mr. Chase.

You're a sailor, now! Yeah!.

Not bad, Mr. Ray, well done!

Get used to it, mates,
you gotta work like horses.

- Mr. Chase.
- Sir.

Set stuns'ls.

Is that wise, Sir,
we're near the Gulf Stream.

Best to be five knots
fto even see the weather.

We are two days behind.

You need to make up the time
before we catch the east wind.

Set stuns'ls.

Set stuns'ls.

Belay that, set stuns'ls.

Get her off, Mr. Coffin,
the Captain wants speed!

Aye, Sir.

She might be old but
she can still blow, boys!

Sir, a squall on the starboard route,
we need to shorten the sail immediately.

Not just yet, Mr. Chase.

Sir, we are headed into a
storm of more than 8 knots

and it's movin' faster than that.

Let it come,
the men are soft from months on land, they

need a good baptism,
let them know our work has begun.

If we don't shorten sail and bear off
it'll catch us on the beam.

Chase, we will stand on.

- Mr. Lawrence, hold our course.
- Holding course, Sir.

We'll lose half a day running like that.

We'll scut the end of it,
if the men can't

handle a gust like this,
then God help us all.

Best secure for heavy weather.

Best prepare for weather, Mr. Bond,
we're headed into a squall.

- We must fall off and run with it.
- Stand down, Mr. Chase.

- Mr. Lawrence, hold your course.
- Holding course, Sir.

Shorten the sails, Mr. Chase.

We need to cut
those sails down!

Turn the ship,
head for land!

No, the damage is done!

It's too late, it's too god damned late!

We'll be broadsided!

Hold on!

Look out!

Mr. Joy!

- We have to cut away the...
- I've got it, Owen!

We have to set her up right!

You wish to see me, Sir.

At six bells tomorrow,
you will assemble the crew,

inform them that we will be returning
to Nantucket for repairs.

You will then apologize to them
for interfering with a captain's order

which nearly cost the lives of
every man on this ship today.

What?

I'll accept your resignation
upon our return to port.

That will be all.

It was your order to set stuns'ls, Sir.

That decision was sound,
the men needed testing.

- You sent 'em into a storm?
- That...

was unlucky.

No, it was bad seamanship, and blaming
misfortune is just plain weakness.

Damn your impertinence!
Do you know who you're speaking to?

My name is CAPTAIN George Pollard.
POLLARD!

And you Mr. Chase, no matter how many
whale pins you may have on your lapel,

are nothing more than
the son of a farmer,

who's managed to bullying his
way into an officer's tunic.

Now, get out!

To return to port without a single
barrel of oil would be a mistake, Sir.

And not behoove a man whose name is
Pollard... or Chase, for that matter.

And the best thing for both of us
would be t'work all hours God sends us.

Fill this ship with oil,
and be home inside a year

and rid of one another
as quickly as possible.

Trust me, I have never been
as desirous of that as you.

Of course, that is the Captain's decision.

They were like a new married couple.

A new married couple tolerate each other,
Mr. Melville,

but a new married couple
can also bring down a ship.

- You married, Mr. Melville?
- I am.

The Lord have mercy on ya.

First child on the way, too.

So, does your good wife know that you brought
all you have in the world here tonight,

and givin' it to a stranger?

- No, Sir.
- You're full of surprises, aren't you?

So... the Essex did not return to port.

- She did not.
- She continued out to sea.

Yes, she did, but before long, we heard
the call this all whale men pray for...

Ho!

Blows!

A big one!
Thar she blows!

- White or sperm, Mr. Ramsdell?
- Sperm whales they are!

Mr. Chase, hoist and swing boat.

- All Hands! All hands on deck!
- All hands on deck!

Lower away!

Come on, put your back into it.!

There's the calf.

- That's the calf?
- That's the cow!

That's our boy!
That's the money!

Nickerson! Push!

- Forty barrels there?
- Fifty!

Boy, he's a buster!

Take the oars, lads!
Quick or he'll god damn run!

Pull those oars up!
Smartly, lads, smartly!

Mind your oars!

- Mr. Ramsdell, prepare the line.
- Aye, Sir.

The first one's mine.

Aim her to the free spot!

Pull! Pull! Stay on him.

You're on your first
Nantucket sleigh ride, Boys.

The most fearsome creature
to ever live on this earth.

My hand!

You need to wet the line, Nickerson.

A hundred forty fathoms' of line left,
Mr. Chase.

Eighty fathoms' of line left, Sir.

He's gonna pull us under!

- Matthew, I need your line!
- Feed the line!

- Peterson give me the line!
- Aye, Sir.

- Give me that line, Mr. Peterson.
- We're down to 60 fathoms' of line left, Sir.

- Twenty fathoms, Mr. Chase!
- Tie it off!

Go!

- Peterson, lay on!
- Aye, Sir.

How many fathoms can he draw?

No, no, no, wait!

- Owen!
- Oh, no, not yet!

- Don't touch that line.
- Down to 50 fathoms, Sir.

- Owen! God damn it!
- I said don't touch it!

Thirty fathoms left, Mr. Joy.

Ten fathoms left, Sir!

It's been a long drive.

Blubber in the oil.

They're gonna eat your money.

Get out of there, you sons of b*tches!

- You got it?
- Got it, Chase.

- How's it lookin'?
- Not good.

That's it.

- Mr. Chase, Sir?
- Yep.

That's all of it, Sir,
we can't get anymore out.

That's the gold in there,
Boys, c'mon, keep diggin'.

- I'm too big to really go down there.
- Then find someone who can.

Nickerson, come here boy!

Hey! I said c'mere!

Climb on in with 'im.

Come on, Thomas.

What's in there is worth a HELLEVA lot
more than what they're boilin' down.

Sir, I can't, I'm sorry.
I can't.

You get down there,
or I'll have you sleep down there.

You best put that between your teeth, Boy.

It tastes worse than the
Devil's assh*le down there.

Thank you.

- Sorry.
- Here, Nickerson, take my pillow with ya!

Down ya go.

A man gets to know
himself down there.

- Did they ever send you into a whale's head?
- No, I was spared.

Well, that's where the treasure is.

I'll never forget that first bull.

Forty-seven barrels... of course,
the happiness was short lived.

The waters had all been fished out?

That they had.
So, we headed further out.

It was a month around the Horn.

Left the South Atlantic
behind with a sliver of hope

that things would
change for the better.

But making the Pacific
didn't improve our lot.

Whale sightings were TOO damn scarce.

After nearly a year at sea the
temperaments of our captain.

And our first mate
grew more strained.

Captain Pollard spent most
days and nights in his cabin,

afraid to look his crew in the eye.

Our hold was almost empty.

To gaze upon our paltry efforts
only served as a reminder

that we were a long way
from going home.

I don't talk that talk.
Speak English?

They're talking whale oil.

Capit?n.

Excuse me, the locals told me
that your voyage was waylaid, Sir.

Captain George Pollard, the Essex.

Capit?n Clemente Pelaez, the Santa Maria.

Would you buy a
colleague a drink?

- Same as always, George.
- Yes, Captain

Bad luck, huh?

How far out?

Far enough for only a fool to go.

How far would that be?

A thousand leagues
along the Equator...

in offshore grounds.

Were there whales there?

More than you've ever dreamt.

Hundreds... fields of flukes
as far as the eye can see.

They could fill up 3000 barrels
in the space of a day.

What do you mean, "Could have"?

If it weren't for that demon...

a whale.

White as alabaster,

a hundred feet long,

sent six of my crew to their graves,

and the rest of us, something
to remember him by.

Now, this white whale, did he dance
a jig and pick your pocket, as well?

Thank you.

Do you believe that?

We set sail now,
catch the south easterlies,

this is by our best time, fill our belly,
we can be home in six months.

What say you, Mr. Chase?

No need to endure our predicament
for a moment longer than necessary.

Amen to that.

Amen.

Greed took hold of our
Captain and the first mate.

So, we headed out...
a thousand leagues along the Equator...

but with no agenda, speculation began.

This is where the
whales are gonna hide.

It was as far from land
as we could possibly go.

But we hunted them down.

Centuries before, sailors feared
sailing off the edge of the earth,

but we were headed
for the edge of sanity.

Trust gave way to doubt...

hope to blind superstition.

Cap'n, the men are talking.

That's what men do.

They aren't happy with your
decision to sail out this far.

Well, did you correct them?

Did you remind them of our purpose
to fill this ship with whale oil

and if the whales ARE a thousand
leagues out, then that is where we go?

Cousin, please, this is madness.

You have let yourself be
influenced by that man.

You must turn this ship back.

I suggest you go back down,
reassure the men, the leader,

and don't ever, ever abuse the
privilege of family with me again...

Mr. Coffin.

What is it?

- Listen...
- Mr. Chase.

- I see some white water.
- Where?

Port side!

You hearin' it?

- Lower away!
- Lower away!

The Devil'll take the Mexican ground.

Stick him hard!
Stick him!

Straight ahead, Peterson.

Don't let him chew the oars, Boys.

Back to it!

- The whale?
- Yes.

- So, it's true.
- Yes.

Too much is true.

Full pressure!

Mr. Bond, back to 4 yards,
lower the tackle!

Aye, Sir.

Mr. Lawrence, take us leeward
headed straight for the school.

Right, Sir.

- Hot tar, Sir.
- We'll find him.

We're close to black skin.

Sneak up on her!

She's ours, Lads.

What was that, Mr. Lawrence?

Mr. Chase.

God damn it.

Find Mr. Lawrence...

Get Mr. Lawrence to man the pumps!

Where is he?

Port bow!

Get me the biggest
tines we have.

He wants a fight.

- I never seen a whale do that.
- Mr. Lawrence, take the wheel.

Mr. Ramsdell, secure the other
end of the line to the foremast.

Aye, Sir.

As I live and breathe, he's mine.

Look out!

Cap'n...

The Essex, it's listing.

Help me turn around.

- That's it, be brave.
- Here! Full ahead, Mr. Nickerson.

Mr. Chase.

A whale threw her, it stove the ship.

What?

We lost Easton and Sanborn.

The pumps are useless, Sir.

- Prepare to abandon ship.
- We can't row away home!

We have to strip from the
sails and jimmy-rig something.

Aye, Sir.

Get as much food and
water as you can carry.

We're gonna need all the
fresh water you can find.

We stick together
as much as we can.

Mr. Chappel, the provisions!

Take as much food
as you can carry.

Make way!

- Got it?
- Hard tack and stock!

- Grab the candles there!
- Lower away!

Take those tack lockers.

Pull her up!

Come on, Nickerson!

Pace yourself!

- Grab the hand! I got you!
- Get 'im up!

Gotta get away from the oil.

- Nickerson! Where is Mr. Chase?
- He was just here, Sir.

Mr. Chase!

Mr. Chase, Sir!

- Where is the first mate?
- Away!

Mr. Chase, Sir!

Mr. Chase, Sir!

There he is!
There he is! There he is!

- Over there!
- There's Mr. Chase!

Mr. Chase!

We got him.

Goin' fishin', are we?

Clear and loaded, Mr. Joy.

Back away,
or she'll take us down with her.

Captain, what about our provisions?

Two ounces of hardtack
a day per man...

and half a cup of water.

We can't live on that.

It's he!

Yeah, it's him all right.

You don't fool me, Mr. Chase.

- Mr. Coffin.
- That right?

You put us here,
you know you put us here.

- Hey! Put it down.
- Put the p*stol down!

Say you're scared!

Mr. Coffin, put the p*stol down!

You know what happens when
the food and water runs out!

Do as the Captain says, Coffin!

I just want to see

- the landsman scared.
- Coffin, put the p*stol down!

- That's an order!
- Do as the Captain says! Now!

- Say it!
- Henry.

Say it! Say it!

Henry!
Put the p*stol down.

Henry, put it down.

So, east it was,

back in the direction we'd come,

With only the sun and a compass.

All directions looked the same.

Our hope was to catch the
westerlies to Easter Island,

a journey of 3,000 miles.

For 12 days we've drifted south.

Six degrees latitude.

Not one mile closer to Easter Island.

We are cursed.

We'll make up for it when
we catch the variables.

We'll catch 'em.

Hold on, Captain!

Mr. Joy, the halyard's jammed.

Mr. Joy!
Grab at it, Mr. Joy!

Matthew!

Matthew, okay, what happened?
What happened?

- What are you doing here?
- Let me take a look.

- No, no, no.
- Let me take a look.

I'm fine, I'm fine.

Just relax, I know,
I know, let me take a look.

I'm hit on the head, it's good, right?

- Give him some water!
- I don't need any water!

Give him some God damned water.

No, no, no,
I don't need water, I'm fine.

Take that, take it!

I gotcha, I gotcha!

All right, you'll be all right.

Hey, what are you all looking at,
I'm fine.

Cap'n Pollard, this is fiddle.

This is God damn fiddle,
ya hear me?

- Owen.
- Yeah.

I'm fine, all right, I'm fine.

- Thank you.
- I'm fine! Get out of here!

Be good.

Let's go.

Why waste water on a dead man?

Fancy men who know each other,
sailed together since childhood.

Now, tell me,

could you just sit there and
watch your own brother die?

It's simply a matter of numbers,
Mr. Chappel.

There's not enough
for all of us.

Why waste water on a dead man?

Why waste water...

Why waste water?

Why waste water on a dead man?

Mr. Nickerson?

- Why waste water on a dead man?
- Are you all right, Sir.

- I cannot.
- Cannot what?

No, you... you... you have
enough, you have more than enough.

But, Sir! We've come so far.

- We have come to an end.
- We have an agreement, Sir.

Take the money and leave!
You've a devil's bargain!

No, Sir,
the devil loves his unspoken secrets...

especially those that
fester in a man's soul.

What's yours?

I'm not a great writer.

I'm not Hawthorne.

After my first hearing of Odysseus,

this tale has haunted me.

It consumes me.

I fear if I do not write it,

I should never write again.

What else?

I fear if I DO write it,

that it will not be as
good as it should be.

Continue the story, Sir...

for the both of us.

Pass that down.

Here.

We thank thee, Lord,
for this is our food...

for light, good health,
with every good.

There.

Land!

Land, Owen! Land!

Land! Land! Land!

Row! Get 'way! Get 'way!

Row!

Hold fast! Hold fast! Hold fast!

Mr. Chase, what the devil is it,
why have you stopped?

- He's been following us.
- What?

There's nothin' out there,
Mr. Chase.

There ain't nothin' out there,
Sir.

Sir, what are you doing?

Where is he?

It could be Ducie Island.

Without a map, compass or quadrant
there's no way to be certain.

We will keep fires
going night and day,

hope a passing ship
catches sight of our smoke.

This is what I
wanted you to see.

They've been here a long time,
for no doubt...

waiting for a ship.

But no ship came.

No ship is going to come.

If we stay, we die.

How long do you think it
would take to trust the birds

to stop coming here once
they see their eggs eaten?

It's a privilege to know the
moment of one's death in advance.

And to be able to prepare for it...

a curse to be
so far from home...

or a chance to say goodbyes,
without a chance to make peace...

or a chance to settle scores.

But alas,
at least those are settled between us,

Cap'n?

Captain of what?

The Essex was lost
and no fault o'yours.

- I was as much to blame...
- You were not the Captain!

You were born to do this job.

I was just born into it.

What we do, do ya think, George?

What offense did we give
God to upset him so?

The only creature to have
offended God here is the whale.

Not us?

Not our arrogance, our greed?
Look where we find ourselves.

We are supreme creatures made
in God's own likeness.

We're earthly kings,

whose business it is to circumnavigate
the planet bestowed to us.

And to bend nature to OUR will.

You really feel like an earthly king
after everything that we've been through?

- We're nothing... we're specks... dust.
- But we're...

We sail into the sun at dawn.

If we are to die, with God's grace.

Let us die as men.

- Are we ready, Mr. Weeks?
- Aye, Sir.

Mr. Chappel.

- Mr. Wright.
- I can't do it, Sir.

Me, Locks and Weeks...

we're stayin'.

Ready to go, Matthew?

- I'll give you a hand here...
- What's the point?

- You hear me?
- No, we're goin' home, we're goin' home.

There's no point.

Just go.

God damn it, Matthew.

It's all right.

I'll send a boat for you
the minute we get back.

And we'll play cards
back in Nantucket, all right?

- Yeah, it's a deal.
- Good.

You want me to open that for ya?

Naw, I think I'll manage.

God be with you, Brother.

And you.

Brother Peterson?

- Y'all comin' with us?
- Mr. Peterson.

Why don't you come on
our boat with Mr. Bond.

Where... where is he?

Pollard.

Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Lawrence, wake up.

Where has the
other boat gone?

- Pollard! Pollard!
- Captain Pollard!

- Pollard! Pollard!
- Cap'n Pollard!

- Pollard!
- Captain!

Pollard!

Get some rest.

Benjamin, what are you doing?

He's dead.

Throwing him overboard, Sir.

Look at me,
look at me Benjamin.

No right minded sailor discards
what might yet save him.

Listen to me, Boy,
listen to me.

He can help us.

My God, our heavenly...

Thy creatures wait
On Thee for daily food.

So it was decided.

We prepared the body.

We removed the organs.

Separated his
limbs from his body.

And cut all the
flesh from the bones.

After which...

we closed body.

And then we sewed it up...

as decently as we could...

and committed it to the sea.

We ate the heart first.

You judge me.

No.

There... there...

it's done.

It is out.

You never told anyone?

No.

Not even your wife?

Do you think she
could ever love me,

if she knew the abominations
I had committed?

Yes, she would.

And if you had told
me this story when we met,

I would still wear
your ring today.

The strength of that boy,

still lives in you.

I see that...

even if you don't.

You can finish your story now,
My Love.

Look...

Sit up.

Listen.

Damn thing.

We still got a few
drops of the water left.

Don't ya quit on me,
we're goin' home.

Do you have a family...

back home, Mr. Chase?

Yeah, I have wife.

Yes, and a son or a daughter.

Very well.

Cap'n, we'll draw again.

We'll do no such thing.

- We'll draw again.
- Mr. Ramsdell,

you will assume
command of this vessel.

Ya got that?

You're our cap'n,
your men need you.

The men will be fine.

Please. Please. Please.

- Henry...
- Let us go again.

It is an order.

If you cannot do it,

pass the p*stol to another man.

We were weeks in the Doldrums.

That part of the Pacific
is more desert than ocean.

The sun b*ating down...

My fear...

All I could think about...

was that everyone would die
and I'd be the last left alive.

Well, as best as Mr. Chase could tell,
we were still 800 miles from land.

Mr. Chase.

Cap'n Pollard.

Very happy to see you.

Very little happiness in our survival.

Nor in ours, Sir.

Barzillai?

The third boat?

They're gone,
they've been gone for days.

I'm afraid they're lost, Sir.

Mr. Chase, you are prepared for this.

It's just a whale.

There! Throw the lance!

Throw it!

Throw it, drown the lad!

Throw it!

Do it! Now! Throw the lance!

Why didn't you throw it?

You're a damn fool.

The current drew us apart...

and that was the last we would see
of Captain Pollard's whale boat.

A boat!

A boat on the forward bow!

May god have mercy.

Mr. Chase.

Father...

don't leave me, Father.

Hey, Sir.

Mr. Chase. Sir.
Look. Look, Sir.

Sir.

Look. Out there.

They're coming.

They're coming for us.

We were rescued there,
off the Isle of M?s Afuera, Chile,

ninety days after the
sinking of the Essex.

They gave us some old clothes...
leathers, too.

It was hard to eat at first...
strange.

They looked after
us as best they could,

then we found a ship
that could carry us home.

That voyage took
another three months.

It looked like the whole Island
turned out to see us return.

But there were no cheers...
only silence.

They looked at us like we were...
apparitions... phantoms.

We'd said nothing of the
details of our survival to anyone.

But I wondered if they somehow
knew of our privations.

Maybe they were just curious.

I promised, didn't I?

God.

Hey, Sweetie! Who is this?

Phebe Ann.

Phebe Ann Chase.

It's your Daddy.

Hey, Sweetie.

It's your Daddy.

Of course they couldn't
leave him alone.

Mr. Chase and his wife had scarcely
walked a block towards home

when he was stopped and made to
return to the Maritime Office.

There were business
matters still in question.

So, to the matter...

Due to the significant loss of
life and property on our voyage,

it seems there will be an inquiry.

And, as Captain and first mate, we will
be expected to give account of what happened.

Yes, of course.

And, having discussed this with
the ship owners and... my father,

it is clear that full disclosure
will have ramifications...

terrible ramifications
for whole industry.

That a whale brought
down the Essex.

But it's the truth.

If the insurance houses and investors
were to start worrying about...

sea monsters sinking ships,

sailors drawing lots to survive...

We are in the oil business...
all of us.

And as in any business the probability of
success must always be greater the risk incurred.

So, what are you suggesting, George?

That you say that
the ship ran aground.

- That's a lie.
- And that the men that d*ed drowned.

That's another lie.

Think on it... they
will make you captain.

Oh! That pledge I
already have in writing.

Only on the condition you
bring home a ship full of oil.

This way it's guaranteed.

You would be a wealthy man.

The name Chase need no longer be a
landsman's name, but an established name

that belongs among the
great families of Nantucket.

You want me to whitewash
what happened for profit?

We're asking you
to be pragmatic.

The Essex was stoved
by a white whale.

And those of us that survived
in ill-equipped whale boats

had to commit abominations
in order to survive.

And on our return, we're expected
to spread barefaced lies,

so that you,
the ship owners of Nantucket,

might line your pockets
and sleep well at night?

Well, I will not embroil the truth.

Nor should you, George.

That last time I saw him...

Mr. Chase, Sir.

I couldn't find the right
words to say what I wanted.

Thomas.

Perhaps there ARE no words.

I'm... I'm gonna be
on my way to Falmouth, and...

it's...

it's... it's been an honor, Sir,

to serve with you.

The honor has been mine,
Mr. Nickerson.

Take it.

Good luck out there, Thomas.

Thank you, Sir.

Next day George Pollard was
called before the inquiry.

Gentlemen, Captain George Pollard.

All the important men
of Nantucket were there...

it was a formality.

Good day to you, Captain,
please sit down.

For the record then.

The Essex was stoved by a white whale
12 hundred meters west of Ecuador.

It was as if Owen Chase
himself had spoken.

He told them the truth.

Cap'n Pollard's
conscience was clear...

but the inquiry was a sham.

Bowed now again

over the white whale...
they never found it.

He ran a second ship
aground off of Hawaii...

twice cursed.

Never sailed again.

And Owen Chase?

He was a man
of his word.

First, he sent a boat back to Ducie Island.

Mr. Joy had passed...

but the other three were
incredibly still alive.

And then?

Then he packed up his family
and moved to New Bedford...

to start over...

in a merchant...

sailing his own terms.

Well, you certainly got your
money's worth, Mr. Melville.

These February nights are
the longest of the year.

- Well, you can both rest now.
- Leave me...

I shall not be
resting for some time.

Why?

Ya got your story there,
and your plot is all there.

Maybe it wasn't a
plot I was after.

No, what then?

Something else you've
given me tonight.

What is that?

The courage to go where...
one does not want to go.

Mr. Melville,

what you've heard,
what I've told you,

will it all be of
service to your book?

It will be a work of fiction,
Mr. Nickerson,

inspired by truth,

but I don't believe I'll feel
the need to use all of it.

- Thank you.
- Here...

take that with you.

No, the money is for you,
I insist.

I insist you keep it.

And I insist that one person
in this conversation is sober.

So, it's back to Pittsfield,
Massachusetts.

Well, good luck.

Thank you.

Ya know...

I heard a man from Pennsylvania
drilled a hole in the ground recently,

and found oil.

That can't be true.

I heard it, too.

Oil from ground.

Fancy that.