REDBURN From Man to Boy – His First Voyage – A Filmscript - 2. Part 2 – The Passage Over

.

[Part 2 – The Passage Over – I: Water-Rat]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – NOON

Like a Turkish bath, thin columns of light pierce the dusty air from bottle-bottom skylights. More light comes through the open hatch. Wide bunks line the bow section, with sea chests tucked below. The uprights between the bunks each sport a tin whale oil lamp on a gimbal, several of which are lit. REDBURN sits barefoot in the middle of the floor. To his side is a pile of rope scraps; in front of him, a piggin. He pulls apart the fibers and stuffs them into the piggin. DUTCHIE and BLUNT sit in their bunk facing each other; THE GREENLANDER sits on a sea chest to the side of them. He wears his favorite green and white scarf. The three play cards. JACKSON broods alone in the bunk no one will share with him. MIGUEL lies face up and motionless in another. He is down to his tee-shirt and trousers, and a large serpent tattoo snakes up his forearm. The light from the hatch falters; the SECOND MATE takes a few steps down.

 

SECOND MATE

(shouts)

Seveda! Get your scurvy-ridden carcass on deck, now!

 

There is no reply.

 

DUTCHIE

Miguel ain’t roused yet. He’s still where the shore crimp dumped him yesterday, a’fore we sailed.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Drunk as a skunk…

 

The Second Mate retreats, muttering to himself.

 

SECOND MATE

I have to run this goddamned ship

by myself…

 

DUTCHIE

(knowingly)

Maybe the lad’s too hot.

 

Dutchie gets up to undress Miguel.

 

JACKSON

(commandingly)

Leave off. He ain’t in need of a sea-ma. Let him sleep it off in peace.

 

Dutchie gives Jackson a cold sneer, but sits back down. The Greenlander sniffs around.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Ain’t you fellows smell that?

 

DUTCHIE

Must be bilge water shaken up by the ship’s fresh roving.

 

BLUNT

I suspect it’s a rat – one caught and died among the hollow spaces in the side planks.

 

Blunt raps on the hull.

 

JACKSON

Could be. They smoked out this forecastle a couple of days ago, sending

all our rat companions straight to hell. Had to shovel them out of the hold….

 

Jackson climbs out and goes over to Miguel. He makes a show of kicking Redburn’s scraps around.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Blast that rat! Blast all goddamned rats!

 

Jackson leans towards Miguel’s mouth; his bad eye narrows and twitches.

 

JACKSON

He’s blasted, for sure.

 

Jackson rights himself and turns.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

No land-variety dead here. It’s a fellow water-rat, shipmates, that’s dead.

 

Jackson lifts Miguel’s arm and lets it fall lifeless to hang below his bunk. Simultaneously, Redburn and the men stand up. Redburn steps in his piggin and makes a mess. He squats to his knees to gather, and Dutchie nearly trips over him.

 

DUTCHIE

Don’t be sittin’, still picking your infernal oakum! Move aside boy.

 

Redburn stands like he’s been stabbed, and presses his back against the far bunk.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

Let me see.

 

Jackson steps away, to under the hatch, and Dutchie pulls a lit lamp off of its holder. He slowly leans the light to Miguel’s face. The FIRST MATE calls from the top of the hatch.

 

FIRST MATE (O.S.)

Where’s that damned Miguel?

 

JACKSON

He’s gone to the harbor where they never weigh anchor.

 

Jackson begins to cough.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Come down! See for yourself.

 

As seen from Miguel’s face, Dutchie nears with his own face and the lamp. The hatchway FLUTTERS, followed by loud STOMPING; the First Mate descends. Dutchie speaks as if to himself.

 

DUTCHIE

Ho. He’s not dead.

 

Dutchie brings the lights close to Miguel’s lips, and a methane-blue jet of flame sparks from Miguel’s nostrils and the corner of his mouth. In a horrible moment, his whole body is on fire with the same smokeless fire, and Dutchie reels back.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

My God…

 

Everyone in the forecastle sees; Miguel’s eyes are open; his mouth curling into a scowl as the flames consume his remains. Now his clothes catch, and smoke begins to blanket his form. HISSING crackles as water begins to vaporize. Redburn is horrified. He sees the blue flame spread down to animate Miguel’s snake tattoo into a writhing omen of hell.

 

FIRST MATE

Don’t stand there – smother him!

 

The Greenlander grabs a blanket. He covers and pats Miguel.

 

BLUNT

Saints alive.

 

JACKSON

Take hold of it.

 

Jackson and the First Mate rush over to the Greenlander’s side.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

He must go overboard.

 

The Greenlander pulls the sheets from Miguel’s bunk over the body and the men lift up the bundle.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

A few moments more and he can sparkle all he likes with the phosphorescent jewels of the dark sea.

 

Jackson goes out of his way to approach Redburn with the body.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Out of the way, pogue!

 

Jackson elbows Redburn’s chest and sends the teenager to the floor reeling in pain; Redburn smacks the back of his head on a bunk rail. Dutchie, like waking from a dream, eyes the fallen boy confused. He realizes he still holds the lamp and puts it up. Dutchie goes to work, telling Blunt.

 

DUTCHIE

Here, Blunt, take this too.

 

Dutchie strips the mattress and shoves it at Blunt.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

Send it overboard.

 

BLUNT

(crosses himself)

Heaven have mercy.

 

Blunt bundles the bed gear; Dutchie tosses two pillows on top. He goes to the hatch and asks Redburn.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

Did you see him burn? He burned like those Protestants lining up to roast in that Calvinistic Hell of theirs.

 

From halfway up the ladder, Blunt turns and says before he goes.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

God pity the bastard – God pity us all.

 

Redburn stands; rubs the back of his head.

 

DUTCHIE

Redburn, you go along. Run to the cookhouse. Tell the Doctor what’s happened and fetch a pot full of red-hot coals.

 

REDBURN

Yes…aye, aye.

 

From halfway up the ladder, Dutchie stops him.

 

DUTCHIE

And, boy – get a fistful of coffee beans

too. Go!

 

EXT. DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER

From a low vantage, REDBURN’s feet and lower legs come running up. After a cut, the same angle shows Redburn going back more carefully. In one hand he has a saucepan held away from his body; in the other, a tied bandana full of coffee beans.

 

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER

DUTCHIE is alone and busy stacking a few boards. REDBURN cautiously descends the ladder.

 

DUTCHIE

Good lad. Now, see, in cases like this, we always smoke out the bunk…

 

Dutchie takes the pot. Sets it in the center of Miguel’s cleared out bunk.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

You’ve got the coffee beans?

 

Redburn gives him the bandana. Dutchie unties it and pours beans over the coals.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

Now, we let it work.

 

Dutchie sits on the floor; pats the floor next to him. Redburn sits.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

That poor fellow was one of the regular crew, but prone to drink himself stupid.

That’s why we had him rounded up by the crimps. Know ye what a crimp is, son?

 

Redburn shakes his head.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

A crimp’s an agent. If you know who you’re looking for, they’re handy. But out in England they’re different. It’s big business there. There they haul any ‘able-body’ onto ships that need crew, then they walks off with cash, and the boob wakes up bound for Borneo, or Malacca, or God knows where. Some of ‘em, the crimps that is, dump men they drugged – dope or laudanum – and the captains don’t care. After they wake up, what are they going to do? Walk home?

 

Redburn laughs, which causes him pain. He touches the back of his head.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

Speaking of England, lad, can ye dance?

 

REDBURN

Dance?

 

DUTCHIE

Aye! When we put ashore in Liverpool, you’ll have to hold up the honor of the Highlander.

 

Redburn is lost.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

See, we’ll have to train you up proper so you don’t disgrace the whole ship’s company. When we go to some sailor tavern, the various boys of various companies dance. The best company gets a round all around for the best dancing lad. See?

 

REDBURN

I see. I’m willing to learn.

 

DUTCHIE

Good spirit, lad; good spirit.

 

Dutchie stands and regards Redburn with ominous intensity.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

As for that Jackson, stay away from that lot, boy. He’s like a rabid slave-catcher’s hound dog. Don’t let him smell the fear on you. He’ll cut ya to shreds. To shreds. Up! We must nail the unfortunate’s bunk shut for the duration. It’s tradition.

 

Dutchie grabs a board. Redburn grabs the other end and they position it. Dutchie draws back the hammer.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

Death. Ain’t we all slaves to you…

 

He drives the first nail.

 

[Part 2 – II: Storm]

EXT. MAIN DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER – TWILIGHT

Squalls of intermittent rain sheet across the deck. SHOUTS from members of both the day and night CREW on the main yard make REDBURN look up to them as lighting turns them brighter than daylight for a brief moment. Above them, the higher sails are still set. Various other members of the CREW dash about deck. THUNDER rumbles. Redburn goes up to different groups to help, and each time is told to go away. The FIRST MATE bumps into him as he is giving orders.

 

FIRST MATE

Come on, lads, lively! We still have the topsails to reef. The storm is soon upon us!

 

Redburn’s attention is drawn by CAPTAIN RIGA, already in his nightclothes, but with an overcoat on top. He stomps and paces the quarterdeck as he shouts at the FIRST MATE. While thus employed, LAVENDER comes out with an umbrella, which he opens, struggles with in the wind, and positions over and behind Riga’s head.

 

CAPTAIN RIGA

God damn it! Why’d I hire a nursery-school marm instead of a First Mate?!

Get those goddamned sons-a-bitches to haul the yard around!

 

Riga feels the umbrella smack the top of his head. He knocks it out of Lavender’s hand, and the wind takes it to sea.

 

CAPTAIN RIGA (CONT’D)

You stupid mulatto! You want to get us struck by lightning!

 

Redburn slowly shakes his head in disappointment; Riga is not the man he thought he was. Lightning flashes again and the deck tilts from side to side. Redburn tries to steady himself, but begins to look green in the gills. He rushes to the bulwarks, pushing THE GREENLANDER out of his path, who in turn watches Redburn bend himself over the side and vomit. THUNDER rolls. Recovering and trying to right himself, Redburn whips around and steps right in front of JACKSON and two other members of the CREW. The other sailors sidestep him, but Jackson grabs the teenager by the lapel. The Greenlander knocks DUTCHIE’s arm and gestures to the unfolding scene.

 

JACKSON

Don’t cross paths with me, boy!

 

Jackson glowers at Redburn with his bad eye.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

What business do you, pogue, have going to sea? Eh! Taking bread out of the mouths of honest sailors; nicking a good seaman’s place? Punk, if you ever get in my way again, so help me Beelzebub, I’ll be the death of you. If you chance to stumble in the rigging near me, I’ll pitch you in the drink without so much as a second thought. Try me.

 

Redburn punches Jackson’s grip away.

 

REDBURN

(slow)

You try it, old man. I may be a boy, but if being a man means I’m ground down to a wretch like you, may I always stay a kid. As for your threat, do your worst. We’ll see who comes out on top.

 

JACKSON

Watch it, boy. Though your sail may be ascending and mine descending, I could still do you a nasty turn on the way down.

 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Dutchie is there pulling at Redburn’s arm. He speaks to him in a loud voice for all to hear.

 

DUTCHIE

Come with me, young scapegrace. It’s high time you prove your mettle.

 

Dutchie bends his head and whispers in confidence.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

Rub this in Jackson’s face.

 

Dutchie spins Redburn to face the assembled crew. He raises his arm and slowly points an arc up the mainmast.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

That sail, the fifth, the highest – that’s the main-skysail. I know it looks no bigger than a cambric handkerchief, but, my boy, it must be furled. Yes, that little sky-scrapper, just behind them clouds – well, tumble up there, Redburn, and take him in, I say. That’s work fit for boys, and not ‘old men,’ like me.

 

All the crew cheer on Redburn, except Jackson, and buoyed by the adrenalin still in his system, he jumps onto the rope ladder.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Careful, boy – that yard is fixed at the top, not the bottom.

 

Redburn nods and climbs through the increasing wind and rain.

 

EXT. MAINMAST OF THE HIGHLANDER

REDBURN climbs fast. Below him, the CREW, CAPTAIN RIGA, and MATES watch him. At the point where the rope ladder ends and ‘Jacob’s ladder’ begins – straight up the mast – he looks down, and looks sick. He pants slightly, draws in fresh air and heads up. Rain falls into his eyes that are trained on their goal. Lighting flashes.

 

EXT. LOWER YARD OF THE SKYSAIL

THUNDER peals. Peering down, the deck seems miles away as REDBURN sways with the mast. Straddling the yard on one side of the mast, he holds on and squats. He undoes the pins securing it. After they are out, he pauses a moment, looking out to a horizon edged in crimson/orange light; dark clouds overhead. As seen from above Redburn, the rain falls flat on top of him. He raises his head to it, closes his eyes and delights in the sheer thrill of it. There is shouting from below.

 

FIRST MATE (O.S.)

Loose it, boy! Loosen it!

 

Redburn stands. With his free hand, he cups his mouth.

 

REDBURN

(shouts)

Hoist away!

 

In a near-instant, the yard under him begins to rise, taking Redburn with it. Seen from above, he rides it like a bull; one arm waving in the air for balance. As the lower yard comes to rest on the top yardarm, lighting flashes and Redburn punches the sky in triumphal defiance.

 

REDBURN

(shouts)

Yes!

 

EXT. MAIN DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER

THUNDER peals as the CREW gathers around give REDBURN backslaps. DUTCHIE and THE GREENLANDER lead him forward. Redburn’s adrenalin quickly fades and he begins to look greener than ever. Dutchie talks to him in warm tones.

 

DUTCHIE

You need some little better outfit to wear. We’ll see what my chest can spare. That cap of yours won’t do – just won’t do.

 

Redburn stops; puts a hand to his mouth and runs to the bulwarks. He nearly folds himself in two – backside in the air – hurling over the sides.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

Greenlander, minister to the boy’s queasiness. You’ve got ‘medicine’ to spare.

 

Dutchie slaps the Greenlander’s back and moves away chuckling. The Greenlander eyes Redburn’s backside, licks his lips, and says to himself.

 

THE GREENLANDER

My pleasure.

 

[Part 2 – III: Tender Ministrations]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – NIGHT

Miguel’s bunk is boarded shut. All the lamps are lit. The ship rises a bit fore and aft with the inclement seas, and REDBURN lies in his bunk with THE GREENLANDER standing by his side. He puts the back of his hand to Redburn’s forehead, and the boy stiffens at the man’s touch. However, he melts again looking into those clear blue eyes.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Seasick, lad?

 

REDBURN

Aye.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Sit up, now. Sit up – I have just what your head needs.

 

The Greenlander pulls out his sea chest, opens it and extracts a silver hip flask. He smiles at the teenager, closes the lid and stows the chest. He comes up, opens the flask and wipes the mouthpiece on his sleeve.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CONT’D)

Nurse on this, baby-boy. It’s kinder than any mother’s milk.

 

Redburn takes it; sniffs it; glances blankly at his shipmate.

 

THE GREENLANDER

(knowingly – half laughs)

What?

 

REDBURN

(gulps air)

I signed the anti-drinking pledge, at our village temperance meeting.

 

The Greenlander comes in close; looks around; winks.

 

THE GREENLANDER

I won’t tell, if you won’t.

 

Lovingly he pushes the flask to Redburn’s lips. The boy sips deep and smiles sheepishly.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CONT’D)

Sip on it, boy. Some of that does more good than many nights’ sleep.

 

Redburn sips on his own, and The Greenlander grins and musses the front of the lad’s hair. He turns and goes to a shelf near the hatch. Redburn’s eyes follow his well-built back. The Greenlander pulls down a sealed tin, opens it and pulls out several sea biscuits. He comes back holding them up.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CONT’D)

Nibble on three or four of these while you sip, and you’ll be shipshape by morning.

 

Redburn reaches out, but instead of taking the biscuits, he touches The Greenlander’s fingers. The Greenlander sets the food down, and holds his hand open for the boy to systematically explore its rough and soft spots. Redburn pauses on one of The Greenlander’s silver rings.

 

REDBURN

Are you really from Greenland?

 

THE GREENLANDER

Aye, lad.

 

REDBURN

So far away…

 

As Redburn gently twists the ring, The Greenlander pulls back a moment. He pulls it off, and drops it onto Redburn’s thumb. Redburn watches as he rotates it in his other hand, then returns his attention to the now-sad-looking gaze of The Greenlander. Redburn reaches out the hand with the ring on it, gently stroking the man’s cheek with the back of his fingers.

 

REDBURN (CONT’D)

Greenland…hard to believe.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Aye, I’m from Greenland; Dutchie is from Holland; and you Yanks are from the wilds – Perspective, lad, is just a matter of being close enough to see yourself in others.

 

REDBURN

You see something, in me? Something familiar?

 

THE GREENLANDER

Aye. Very familiar.

 

Redburn’s fingers move back to The Greenlander’s earlobe. He feels the gold loop with the anchor on it, and then lets go to renew a long sip from the bottle. He laughs freely, just like the boy he is.

 

REDBURN

Do your earrings mean anything?

 

THE GREENLANDER

Aye, lad.

 

The Greenlander reaches down and grabs Redburn’s right lobe with some force.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CONT’D)

Right is for rounding the Cape of Good Hope; left, Cape Horn.

 

REDBURN

(admiringly)

You’ve been around the world…

(slyly)

…Gold looping your ears, silver banding your fingers; I’d a thought a sailor left his jewelry at home.

 

Frowning affectionately, and licking his lips, The Greenlander comes in close. He grabs Redburn’s cheeks from below – around the chin – and rocks his head from side to side.

 

THE GREENLANDER

We will see, nug. ^[6] One day you may be man enough to let me pierce those virgin ears of yours myself.

 

The Greenlander slaps the boy’s cheek; just hard enough so Redburn will remember it. He hears a noise, turns and sees LAVENDER halfway down the ladder. He stands upright and advises Redburn.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CONT’D)

Get some rest.

 

Lavender is down, and The Greenlander pushes past him going up the ladder. Redburn watches his backside; smiles.

 

[Part 2 – IV: Good Night]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER

LAVENDER strides over to REDBURN.

 

REDBURN

You’re not wearing your fancy – I mean – colorful clothes.

 

LAVENDER

Off-duty. That’s only in the cabin.

 

REDBURN

No turban?

 

LAVENDER

That’s only when we’re berthed, or onshore. Sea air ain’t too good for silk….

Say, it’s best we two bunk up. You don’t want to get put with Jackson.

 

REDBURN

Don’t say his name.

 

LAVENDER

He don’t bunk with nobody anyhow; too distrustful. So?

 

Redburn smiles broadly and pats the mattress next to him. Lavender hoists himself up, and slides in over Redburn’s legs. The two lie in a comfortable, chatting position.

 

REDBURN

I hear the fellows call you Lavender – why do they do that?

 

LAVENDER

Smell.

 

Lavender tips his head to Redburn’s nose.

 

REDBURN

Um.

 

LAVENDER

Captain likes it. I first got in the habit working as a brush-up boy in a barbershop

on Broadway. Barber would dress my hair with nice smells. You like it?

 

REDBURN

(sly smile)

I do.

 

LAVENDER

How old are you?

 

REDBURN

Nineteen.

 

LAVENDER

Really – a year older than me – you seem younger. Well, share your medicine, son.

 

Redburn and Lavender enjoy a hefty swig.

 

LAVENDER (CONT’D)

The Greenlander is always talking about the ladies. He knows what a good-looking fellow he is. If you credit what he says, seems he’s some sort of ‘Lady Sailor’ – on about one here, one there – each port, a lady waiting for his lovin’.

 

REDBURN

But, you think otherwise…

 

LAVENDER

Think?

 

REDBURN

Know, then.

 

Lavender changes the subject.

 

LAVENDER

I saw you there – this evening. It looks like you were born to the sea, like you’ve got brine in your blood.

 

Lavender takes a swig; Redburn frowns in concentration.

 

REDBURN

We all do. Someone – well, one book of mine – says our blood has the exact saltiness as the sea. We’re told God crafted us from a bit of mud and a dab of His own spit. I fancy God’s spit is plain old seawater to you and me.

 

LAVENDER

(sympathetically)

The seamen treat all greenhorns rough. Don’t take it to heart – they think it’s their job.

 

REDBURN

I haven’t seen any of them – the sailors – treat you badly. On the other hand, the Captain…

 

LAVENDER

Look, for the sailors, I do what I can to keep…mutual trust. I can be their friend or their enemy, and they get more being a friend to me. But they sure don’t have no respect for you.

 

REDBURN

When Jackson attacked me – it was all I could do to keep holding my breath – to choke down the rising sobs, for what could I help feeling then – any boy in the world would have felt the same. I don’t want to be full of hate…

 

Redburn’s mood shifts; he slowly twists the ring on his thumb, drawing Lavender’s attention to it.

 

REDBURN (CONT’D)

But – some of them are nice.

 

Lavender grabs Redburn’s thumb and draws it and the big ring to his face.

 

LAVENDER

The Greenlander’s one of them respects me the most. We get along.

 

Lavender drops Redburn’s hand; turns serious.

 

LAVENDER (CONT’D)

Don’t let that Jackson get to you. He may be a big bully, but that’s only because his great days as a sailor are behind him. He’s the weakest man – bodily; spiritually – of the whole crew.

 

Redburn scans the earnestness of Lavender’s face with his own intensity.

 

REDBURN

I have no doubt, though young as I am, I can throw him down. But he has such an overawing way about him; such a deal of brass, and…recklessness; such an unflinching face – withal one so hideous – that Satan himself would run from that mortal.

 

They laugh; drink.

 

REDBURN (CONT’D)

But, tell me, why has he no beard, no eyebrows, no hair?

 

LAVENDER

Have you not seen a walking corpse? He had the Yellow Fever, and survived – in a manner of speaking.

 

REDBURN

That’s why his skin is so sallow? So, saffron-colored?

 

LAVENDER

That’s why his nose is broken down in the middle. But worse, stay your distance, for now he’s got the hollow-ringing cough of a consumptive. Don’t breathe his deadly breath.

 

REDBURN

But what explains that eye? I’d defy any oculist to turn out a glass eye half as cold; a third as snaky; a quarter as deadly. By rights it must have first lodged in the head of a she-wolf, or some lank and starving tigress.

 

LAVENDER

It’s looking on his own mortality, and he’s too ornery to die on land…

 

REDBURN

…Nothing left but the foul dregs of a man – I would pity him, but he’s still dangerous. But why, why does he hate me?

 

LAVENDER

Don’t you see? With each second you become a piece of the sailor he was.

His hate of you is his grip on life – he lets loose of one, the other falls too.

 

Lavender takes Redburn’s hand again, this time he doesn’t let go.

 

LAVENDER (CONT’D)

And, because you are young, and handsome.

 

Redburn turns a half-smile into Lavender’s too serious eyes. He takes his hand away and musses the front top of Lavender’s head the way The Greenlander had his. He turns his head back, and rests his hand on his tummy. Lavender slowly laces his fingers with those on Redburn’s stomach, and slides his other hand below Redburn’s waistband. Redburn turns back, offers mild surprise, but soon closes his eyes as Lavender expertly pleasures him. Soon his breaths are labored and choppy. As he begins to climax, he arches his back, and silently pleads with Lavender, but as the other does not desist, Redburn rolls his eyes back helplessly. While he orgasms, Lavender rests his lips on the side of Redburn’s mouth to catch his out-of-control breaths. Before Redburn can recover, or even fully open his eyes, Lavender has withdrawn his hands, and rolled onto his side away from Redburn.

 

LAVENDER (CONT’D)

Good night, Redburn.

 

[Part 2 – V: Breakfast]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – MORNING

Through the darkness, sounds of men’s VOICES come to REDBURN. He opens his eyes; blinks. His head is heavy, but his stomach is fine. Members of the CREW stand at the counter by the hatch. Some shave, other with soap and washcloth stand naked and bathe. There is jocular camaraderie. Redburn quickly puts his hand on Lavender’s side of the bunk. He is gone.

 

DUTCHIE

Up, boy.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Leave him be – he’s sick.

 

Redburn sits. He feels fine, though he wonders why he is covered in crumbs. As he brushes them off, his voice is gruff; no one listens to him.

 

REDBURN

I’m well…

 

JACKSON

Damn it, Blunt! Last night ye were at it again.

 

Blunt is massaging in hair oil before a mirror.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

You sleepwalked right to the damn mirror and rubbed your scalp for an hour. Can’t you recall?

 

BLUNT

(shrugs)

Didn’t hurt you none.

 

JACKSON

Yeah, but sometimes you shout in your sleep – like the dead’s after you – then it bothers us.

 

DUTCHIE

Why are you riveted to that hair tonic anyway, boy?

 

The Greenlander grabs Blunt’s head in a friendly way and tilts it to Dutchie’s inspection.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Can’t you see? Young Blunt here is graying down the center!

 

Blunt pushes free. Redburn launches himself down, stretches, shivers and puts on his jacket.

 

DUTCHIE

Vanity – thy name is youth…

 

JACKSON

Looks like he goes about with a badger skin cap on his head.

Better suited for the hills of Kentucky than the plains of the Atlantic.

 

DUTCHIE

Run, lad; go and fetch our breakfast.

 

Redburn blinks.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D)

To the cookhouse. Go along. Run!

 

EXT. DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER

From a low vantage, REDBURN’s lower legs and bare feet come running up with determination.

 

EXT. COOKHOUSE OF THE HIGHLANDER

A schoolchild’s slate with attached cord hangs by the door. On it is neatly chalked: Dr. Thompson, Esq. The door is open. REDBURN braces both hands on the frame and stares inside.

 

INT. COOKHOUSE OF THE HIGHLANDER

The COOK is at his stove, stirring a pot and whistling to himself softly. Opposite the stove is a fixed bunk. LAVENDER sits on it, eating from a bowl. Both look blankly at REDBURN.

 

REDBURN

(explains)

I’m here to fetch the porridge.

 

Redburn glances at Lavender; cops a half-smile.

 

REDBURN (CONT’D)

Morning.

 

Lavender nods and glances at the Cook, then into his bowl. The Cook stands akimbo, a dripping spoon at his hip.

 

COOK

You mean ‘Burgoo.’ Never was any ‘porridge’ on ship.

 

REDBURN

Yes, sir.

 

COOK

You will not call me ‘sir.’ Call me what all ship’s cooks are called – Doctor – or, Mr. Thompson.

 

The Cook pulls down a shallow eighteen-inch-round tub from the shelf over the bunk. While talking, he pours the steaming contents of the pot into it, eventually picking it up and shoving it into Redburn’s arms.

 

COOK (CONT’D)

They need to teach you proper argot – words – ain’t none of them teaching you? Now, take this here ‘kid’ – the tub, not you – down to your mates, and tell them to start teaching you the vocabulary – get it? – the lingo.

 

EXT. DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER

From a low vantage, REDBURN’s feet and lower legs go back more carefully. He has the kid balanced on both arms.

 

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER

All members of the CREW are now dressed and sitting on stools in a nearly complete circle. In the center is an empty stool. JACKSON presides from the bow. Each sailor has a tablespoon at the ready. REDBURN’s shadow darkens the hatch, and DUTCHIE jumps up.

 

DUTCHIE

Hand it, boy.

 

Dutchie takes the kid and places it on the center stool. As Dutchie sits, and Redburn walks up, Jackson stands with all eyes upon him. He bends over the kid and spoons out a large hollow on the center of the burgoo. The Greenlander hands him a quart-sized redware jug, and Jackson pours a stream of molasses into the cavity. Redburn salivates.

 

JACKSON

All right, boys, dig in.

 

From the kid’s point of view, the sailor-spoons scoop burgoo and dip themselves into the molasses. There is concord, as no spoons vie for the same space. Redburn stands dumbfounded.

 

REDBURN

(to himself)

I don’t have a spoon. Why don’t I have

a spoon?

 

A frantic Redburn turns and runs up the ladder. The sailors eat contentedly. Soon Redburn is back with a small stick he found on deck. He pushes his way into the circle and sticks his twig into the food, close to the molasses. All the sailors stop and glare at an unaware Redburn. Jackson stands, and knocks the stick to the floor.

 

JACKSON

Is twigs what they stir their tea with in

the country?

 

The sailors laugh.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Sticking splinters into our burgoo! Son of a gentleman, my ass. Couldn’t that

gentleman Pa of yours afford a gentlemanly spoon for his offshoot?

 

The sailors laugh again. Redburn sits and dejectedly watches the burgoo disappear. Blunt glances over, sighs and sticks the whole bowl of his spoon in his mouth by way of cleaning it. It offers it to Redburn.

 

BLUNT

Here, Pillgarlic – puppy dog eyes belong

on land, with those sticks of yours.

 

Redburn grins broadly and surveys the contents of the kid. There is only a little on the far side; by Jackson. Redburn stands and stretches his reach. Jackson raps Redburn’s knuckles with his spoon. Redburn recoils in pain.

 

JACKSON

Rules, boy. Learn ‘em! You help yourself from your side; your side only.

 

Redburn rubs his knuckles and scraps the bottom and sides of the kid near him. Finally he pops a measly portion of Burgoo into his mouth as the others laugh. Redburn hands the spoon back to Blunt.

 

REDBURN

Thank you.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Up, boy – fetch us our coffee.

 

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER

Members of the CREW smoke, each with a cup in hand. REDBURN’s shadow darkens the hatch. He descends carrying a large tin coffee pot. Dutchie takes it and put in on the center stool. The Greenlander pours a cup, stands and hands it to Jackson. Then he pours another and presses it into Redburn’s hand.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Blunt, take over.

 

The Greenlander goes over to the biscuit tin, comes back and has Redburn sit next to him. As Redburn sips, The Greenlander opens the tin and produces a couple of biscuits. He passes the tin on and takes the cup for a drink, handing it back.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CON’D)

Lad, break it like this.

 

The Greenlander fractures the hard cracker atop Redburn’s head, then presents his own scalp for Redburn to reciprocate. He does, and everyone laughs, except Jackson. Round the circle, the breaking of bread continues. A smiling Redburn musses a few crumbs out of his hair; then shakes himself like a dog. The Greenlander puts his hand on the back of Redburn’s neck affectionately, and gives him a couple of gentle pulls.

 

[Part 2 – VI: Slush]

EXT. MAIN DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER – AFTERNOON

It is a chill day with intermittent sunbursts. Members of the CREW go about their business. The SECOND MATE comes up to REDBURN. Redburn now wears a proper brimmed hat, loaned from Dutchie.

 

SECOND MATE

Redburn! Slush down the maintop sail.

 

Redburn blinks at him blankly.

 

SECOND MATE (CONT’D)

We must grease it so it hoists smoothly. Run to the cookhouse. Doctor Thompson will give you what you need. Run.

 

EXT. MAINMAST RIGGING

REDBURN climbs with a small bucket in his left hand. A brush dangles from a cord tied to the bail handle.

 

SECOND MATE (O.S.)

Not a drop! Not a single drop on my beautiful deck, you hear, boy!

 

EXT. ABOVE THE MAINMAST TOPSAIL

REDBURN arrives at where the yard meets the mast. He situates the bucket, then sniffs it, making a repulsed grimace. He slushes carefully, watching his footing.

 

EXT. MAIN DECK

JACKSON and BLUNT watch Redburn working.

 

BLUNT

Looks like that greenhorn was born on water. He already hops about the

rigging like Saint Jago’s monkey. The kid’s fearless.

 

JACKSON

(scoffs)

Says you, Irish Cockney.

 

Jackson thumbs his nose at Blunt, coughs a few times, then his one evil eye drifts in profile back up to Redburn.

 

EXT. MAINMAST TOPSAIL

As REDBURN slushes, he spots something dark under the surface of the water. He pauses, soon more dark objects join the first. He stands and hangs as far over the yard as he can with one hand on the mast. As sunshine bursts through, the objects grow lighter and break the surface in arching succession. Blowholes send jets of water skyward one by one.

 

REDBURN

(shouts down)

Sea-elephants! Starboard side!

 

EXT. MAIN DECK

Members of the CREW run to the starboard bulwarks. They SHOUT greetings at the breaching whales.

 

EXT. MAINMAST TOPSAIL

REDBURN smiles uncontrollably.

 

REDBURN

I’ll be damned.

 

EXT. SURFACE OF THE WATER

Whale flukes gently glide into the foaming water and disappear.

 

[Part 2 – VII: Of Mermaids and Sailor Love]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – NIGHT

Members of the CREW sit, smoke, and delicately pick the last remains of dinner from their teeth.

 

REDBURN

What kind of whales were they?

 

DUTCHIE

Pilot whales.

 

JACKSON

No.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Sperm whales.

 

JACKSON

No – have none of ye shipped on a

whaler before?

 

A look goes around; no one volunteers a positive reply.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Sperm whales are monstrous things, like mountains on the sea – hills and valleys of flesh! Regular krakens meant to create tides high enough to inundate continents when they descend the depths to feed. The only thing more monstrous is what they hunt on the bottom – that’s why they have teeth like ivory pegs, and faces scared from battle.

 

REDBURN

What do they hunt?

 

JACKSON

(glazing over)

Worse than our worst nightmares…

 

Jackson comes to.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

But what we saw today weren’t no sperm whales;

too small!

 

THE GREENLANDER

Right whales

 

JACKSON

Not so. Their spouts ain’t bushy enough – it wouldn’t be right to say so. I tell ye, men, them Crinkkum Crankum whales.

 

Jackson breaks into a black smile; he hates gullibility. A series of knitted eyebrows pass from sailor to sailor.

 

BLUNT

(under his breath)

Blarney. Pervert.

 

REDBURN

Why, what’s he mean?

 

Blunt smiles lewdly and eyes Jackson as he tells the boy.

 

BLUNT

‘Crinkkum Crankum’ means something special, boy. Not that you would know, but it refers to a woman’s, um…shall we say, ‘bill of goods.’

 

Redburn makes a dumbfounded face. The other sailors laugh.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

And ‘bill of goods,’ lad – well, somewhere I read, that means ‘the private parts of a decent woman, and the public parts of a gay one.’ A prostitute.

 

REDBURN

(pause - still dumbfounded)

What’s that got to do with whales?

 

The men double over in laughter. The Greenlander rocks Redburn’s shoulders in affection. Eventually Dutchie gathers himself.

 

DUTCHIE

(to Redburn)

Don’t ship with a whaler, boy. That’s the lesson! It’s a hard life – blood and guts – decks awash with it – and boiling of fat night and day; the stench of death. It does something to the heads of them whalers.

 

BLUNT

But, you do get to see far corners – the Indian Ocean, and Madagaskey where they wear no togs at all. No, all they need is a bowline ‘round their midship.

 

JACKSON

And what would you, Bog-jumping Limey, know about the Indian Ocean? Have ye sailed her? – No, not like me. See, I was shipped at age eleven, like this, to Liverpool, then put aboard an East Indiaman. Six blasted months at sea! There is nothing worse, so in Bombay I runs away, only out there it’s tough, so I sign on a Portuguese ship. Any you lot even catch a whiff of a slave-runner? I thought not – hell afloat. As a boy it was my job first thing every morning to poke a stick tween the lines of them, stacked like knives in a box. The ones that didn’t move, were dead during the night; suffocated or starved – it’s the way them slave-running bastards pick off the weak ones. So we had to unmanacle them – weed the dead out from the living – and toss seawater over the rest to wash down the chained-up filth.

 

BLUNT

(to Redburn – half jokes)

His whole life is like this: full of pirates, plagues and poisonings. Aye, few men could have so long plunged into such infamous vices, and clung to them so firmly, without paying the death-penalty.

 

Blunt laughs openly, making Dutchie and The Greenlander uneasy. The Greenlander tries to placate Jackson by playing to his ego.

 

THE GREENLANDER

You’ve been chased a lot in your life, ain’t you? But, you always outrun ‘em.

 

JACKSON

Hell itself ain’t as swift as vessels I’ve been on – opium clippers, where more than dope was traded – women for the whorehouses of Chinatowns ‘round the world; slaves themselves. Ain’t no pity on them – on none of us. Even the self-appointed do-gooders of this world kill and mangle. Afore I came down with the fever, I was on a slaver, just off Cape Verde, when a British cruiser starts to chase us down. As we pulls away, she sends three shots through our upper deck – their ‘good deed’ raked through file after file of chained human carnage. We out-sped her, but shoveling out the mess took days.

(laughs)

I’d like to have seen ‘Mr. Riggs’ among ‘em.

 

REDBURN

(quietly to The Greenlander)

Mr. Riggs?

 

DUTCHIE

Our Second Mate.

(to Jackson)

You have a lot to atone for – don’t add

fresh insult.

 

Redburn goes ashen; The Greenlander tries to distract him.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CONT’D)

Here, you need it. The smoke produces a certain mellowness.

 

The Greenlander holds his pipe to Redburn’s lips. The teen inhales and immediately breathes it out. The Greenlander purses his lips a bit and shakes his head. The crewmen continue to talk, but fade out as Redburn and The Greenlander speak in private tones while smoking.

 

REDBURN

Greenlander – no one talks about Miguel. Why?

 

The Greenlander stiffens; wonders if he should be honest.

 

THE GREENLANDER

They feel it just as bad as you – they don’t talk about it so Death won’t notice them. It’s all around us, son, Death is.

 

Redburn shudders – he can’t believe it’s true.

 

THE GREENLANDER (CONT’D)

Sailor superstition – learn not to show you give it a thought.

 

Dutchie rises and stretches.

 

DUTCHIE

Go to, lads. Let’s clear. It’s time for our

boy’s lesson.

 

They push back, stack the stools, while Dutchie goes to his chest and pulls out a squeezebox. Coming back, he takes Redburn by the hand and leads him to the center. The men fall back. Dutchie begins to play a slow jig and stomp away. Redburn stands there not knowing what to do. The sailors begin to beat time with hands and feet, and The Greenlander jumps in with Redburn and begins to jig. He has Redburn following his steps. Soon the tempo increases, and Redburn is matching the man step for step. Darkness falls and the sounds begin to seem farther away. As the music comes to a crescendo, the men cheer.

 

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – MIDNIGHT

The MUSIC transitions into the melody line of BLUNT’s upcoming song. Only a few of the lights are lit. Members of the CREW lie in their bunks; two by two, except Jackson. Gentle rhythmic SNORING laps the stillness. Blunt sits on his chest with a far away and pained look. He holds an open ledger and pencil. He starts to sings quietly.

 

BLUNT

(SINGS)

“For young men all, heed now this cry

That as ye replace; be prepared –

For though you stall, even you too will die,

And then a lad, takes your place – golden-haired.

 

We drop our dead in the sea,

The bottomless sea; the bottomless sea –

Each bubble a hollow sigh,

As it sinks forever and aye.

 

If you, mermaid, chance to find,

Please to him be kind; please to him be kind –

‘Cause sent with him from the top,

Comes my love wrapped like a teardrop.

 

Tis night above all around,

Still without a sound; still without a sound –

Find that rest ye long have sought;

I remember, though the sea gives you not a thought.

      

So young men all, heed here this cry

That as ye replace; be prepared –

For though you stall, even you too will die,

And then a lad, takes your place – raven-haired.”

 

Near the beginning of Blunt’s song, REDBURN opens his eyes. LAVENDER is climbing into their bunk, looking pooped. Once he is settled, Redburn turns to him and grins. Lavender starts to lay his hands on Redburn, but Redburn gently pushes them back. Instead, Redburn’s hand sinks beneath Lavender’s waistline. Lavender seems surprised, but soon knows Redburn is not the novice he thought he was. As his breathing becomes labored, Redburn raises a hand and covers his lover’s mouth. Lavender stiffens, and his eyes convey that he is near climax. Redburn takes his hand away and replaces it with an open mouth to share Lavender’s breaths in silence. Task completed, Redburn whispers in Lavender’s ear, before he turns his back on him.

 

REDBURN

Good night, Lavender.

 

[Part 2 – VIII: Playing Chicken with The Greenlander’s Heart]

EXT. DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER – MORNING

From a low vantage, REDBURN’s lower legs and boots come trudging along. He is tired and stiff with soreness. He wears The Greenlander’s favorite green and white scarf with the man’s ring as a pass-through above the scarf’s knot.

 

INT. COOKHOUSE OF THE HIGHLANDER

The COOK is dishing out the burgoo. REDBURN nods at LAVENDER cupping hot coffee. Lavender offers him a warm smile.

 

REDBURN

Doctor? How many days now have I been fetching the morning burgoo?

 

COOK

Oh – bout two weeks’ worth of days. Or what them Limeys call a ‘fork-night.’

 

REDBURN

(crestfallen)

When do we reach Liverpool?

 

The cook raps his spoon authoritatively on the side of the full kid. He half chuckles, catching Lavender’s eye. He sets his spoon down.

 

COOK

Not till you’ve doubled your morning walks.

 

REDBURN

(amazed)

Another two weeks...?

 

The cook laughs, comes forward, and wipes his hands on his apron.

 

COOK

It’s not so bad. Land – that’s about a week off.

 

The Cook puts a fatherly arm on Redburn’s shoulder and leads him out on the deck. Lavender gets up and leans in the doorframe, spoon in mouth, to watch.

 

COOK (CONT’D)

And don’t go around thinking ‘Land-Ho’ means we’re in port. First, it’s Ireland, son. That’s when you hear ‘land-ho.’ It ain’t the same as hearing ‘Liverpool-Ho!’

 

The cook turns him to examine him closer.

 

COOK (CONT’D)

They teaching you the proper words

for things?

 

REDBURN

Proper?

 

COOK

Yeah – sea words!

 

He looks around; alights on a bucket.

 

COOK (CONT’D)

Take that. What’s that called?

 

REDBURN

(shrugs)

A pail?

 

COOK

Where? On land – that’s a pail all day long. At sea – they all buckets, son. Get me?

 

Lavender chuckles and comes out to join them. The Cook winks at him slyly.

 

COOK (CONT’D)

What about a ‘chicken?’ They tell you what

a ‘chicken’ is?

 

Lavender laughs openly; Redburn blinks at him in confusion.

 

REDBURN

Not the ones on land….

 

COOK

A ‘chicken’ ain’t a chicken on land – there’s a different term for him there.

 

REDBURN

So, what’s a ‘chicken?’

 

COOK

You is! – Well, I mean, you could be one – but first you got to get aligned with an older seaman. One who can look after you. Why – a sailor’d do anything for his young man. Do the boy’s washing, mend his breeches – Hell, he’d comb the lad’s hair, or stitch his buttons back – he’d do anything the ‘chicken’ don’t want to do for hisself. Get me?

 

REDBURN

Like a…protector?

 

The Cook makes a sly glance at Lavender.

 

COOK

Yeah. Yeah – like that. And – what the boy wants to give back for that ‘protection’ – Well – that’s up to him, and his sailor.

 

The Cook straightens The Greenlander’s scarf.

 

COOK (CONT’D)

You The Greenlander’s ‘chicken,’ son?

 

REDBURN

(reddens)

I….

 

COOK

Don’t make no never mind to me.

 

REDBURN

He hasn’t…asked—

 

COOK

Don’t work that way. A sailor’s boy has all the power – he gives what he gives to his chummie – depends on how attached he feels to the sailor. That’s between you and him – I mean – tween a ‘chicken’ and his seaman.

 

Lavender laughs again, but it slowly trails into distraction. He walks to the bulwarks; horror spreads across his face.

 

LAVENDER

(shouts)

Sound the alarm!

 

[Part 2 – IX: Shipwreck]

EXT. QUARTERDECK OF THE HIGHLANDER – MID-MORNING

CAPTAIN RIGA looks with a glass. LAVENDER and the MATES stand by his side.

 

EXT. WRECK OF A SHIP

From the waterline, a inundated hull of a large vessel lolls in the waves. The entire superstructure is splintered and floats about the wreck still attached by rigging, lines, ropes et al. Most the bulwarks are gone, showing bare stanchions which rise about four feet above the waves. Waves wash across her deck, and her open main hatch belches violent breaths with every push or pull of the sea. The stump of the foremast rises about four feet above deck; the mainmast about ten feet.

   

EXT. QUARTERDECK

The view from CAPTAIN RIGA’s glass lingers on the mainmast. A torn and bloody coat sleeve appears to be nailed there. He can see a disembodied and shriveled hand rise from the cuff. Panning, he pauses on three grassy-green lumps lashed and slumped over the taffrail. These are dunked in and out of the water with each wave. He hands the glass to the FIRST MATE.

 

CAPTAIN RIGA

They must have been dead a long time.

(to the Second Mate)

Log our current position.

 

EXT. MAIN DECK

Members of the CREW, including BLUNT, DUTCHIE, JACKSON and REDBURN gather at the bulwarks to stare at the wreck. Jackson walks behind Redburn without him noticing. He bends into the lad’s ear.

 

JACKSON

Looky here – hie yourself to land and stay there, boy. That – that is a sailor’s coffin. Do you see?

 

REDBURN

But – what are those? Those mossy things that bob like moldy lumps of soap.

 

JACKSON

Idiot. Those are them – the dead.

 

Jackson laughs as Dutchie and Blunt become hot; Redburn gets sick to his stomach.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Wouldn’t you like to sail with them ‘ere dead men? Eh, pinchcock, wouldn’t it be nice?

 

Jackson’s hollow laugh turns into a coughing fit. An angry Dutchie pushes Redburn out of Jackson’s way.

 

DUTCHIE

Don’t laugh at them poor fellows.

(to Redburn)

You see their bodies, but their souls are farther off than the Cape of Good Hope.

 

JACKSON

(mocks)

Good Hope. Good Hope! There is no hope, good or bad, for them, Dutchman. They are drowned.

They are as damned as you or I will be one of these dark nights.

 

BLUNT

(crosses himself)

No. No –

(to Redburn)

All sailors are saved. We may suffer squalls here below, but fair weather aloft.

That’s why so many wear an anchor on their skin; a seaman’s cross.

 

Jackson forgets Redburn and circles Blunt like a shark.

 

JACKSON

And did you get that out of your silly dream journal, you Greek bunter; Gany Boy.

 

Blunt narrows his eyes in barely controlled wrath. He clinches his fists and tries to keep them below his waist. Redburn blinks at Blunt – he is surprised this particular insult is used in regards to him.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Don’t talk of heaven to me…

(coughs)

…It’s a lie…

(coughs)

…I know it – and you’re all fools who believe in it. Do you think, Grecian pogue, that there’s any heaven for you? Will they let you in there with your tar-stained hands and oily slick of hair? Mind you, Irish Cockney, there’s no peace for your kind.

 

BLUNT

(deliberate)

I know your fears. That some day soon a shark will gulp you down a toothsome hatchway, and you will find death only a passage from earthly gale to hellish blast. There’s no forgiveness on those who can’t forgive – that’s your fate.

 

Jackson wants to attack, but stumbles away with renewed coughing.

 

DUTCHIE

He grows worse by the day – body and mind.

 

BLUNT

He argues – would with the devil himself – that there is nothing to believe in;

nothing to love; nothing worth living for in another person—

 

DUTCHIE

A Cain afloat, grudging every heart that dares course with life next to his.

 

BLUNT

(to Redburn)

Pity him, boy. There is more anguish about that man, maybe about all men, than wickedness.

His evil – man’s evil – springs only from his woe.

 

EXT. QUARTERDECK

CAPTAIN RIGA slams his glass shut. He glances at the MATES, before taking LAVENDER and going to his cabin.

 

CAPTAIN RIGA

Sail on. Poor wretches can’t be helped by

the likes of us.

 

FIRST MATE

(aside to the Second Mate)

Would he were lashed to some rotting timber for the world to sail him by.

 

[Part 2 – X: Man-of-War’s Man]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – NIGHT

The ships lists slowly from side to side; RAIN pounds the deck and closed hatch. Occasional THUNDER peals. All the lights are lit. REDBURN and BLUNT are alone. Blunt sits on a stool, writing in his journal; Redburn sits on a chest, writing a letter to his mother.

 

REDBURN

What’s that you keep? Is that…

 

Redburn becomes self-conscious.

 

REDBURN (CONT’D)

…Your dream book?

 

Blunt does not pause in his writing. He replies without looking.

 

BLUNT

Do you believe you can be visited? By those we love, but taken from us?

 

REDBURN

I believe my father watches over me…

 

Blunts raises his eyes; pleased.

 

BLUNT

Good lad. I’m sure he does.

 

Blunt leans elbows on his knees, preening towards the teen.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

Why are those doubters gloomy at the thought of the dead? What comfort is in their stone-cold ‘belief?’ – Belief that those we love are departed from all of our joys and sorrows; belief that those gone are indeed nothing but dead to us; that they revisit us not; that their voices no more shimmer in the air about our heads; and that even though spring must inevitably come, they cannot feel the sap renewing green life that rises in the very marrow of our limbs. Why believe at all, if not to believe in something?

 

After a pause, Blunt feels he can trust Redburn. He calls him over to sit by his side.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

I write my dreams here. This is my dream book, and I believe love can guide not only when near us, but from far on the other side too. We keep them here; as long as we need them.

 

Blunt places the open book in Redburn’s hands. The teen cradles it and scans a passage.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

When I was a lad, a bit younger than you, I shipped on a British Man-of-War. After a year or so, we came upon a French sloop who opened fire on us. We drew alongside and had a proper battle, all guns blazing, and my – my Man-of-War’s man – gave his life pushing me out of harm’s way.

 

During a long pause, Redburn closes the book and watches Blunt’s profile relive the horror of that long-passed moment. Blunt sighs, regarding Redburn squarely.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

But, if he were here today – I know he’d want me to watch after you too.

 

Blunt looks at his hands.

 

REDBURN

(softly)

Blunt? Is that why your clothes are all too big? You wear his gear?

 

Blunt rocks his head for a helpless moment; he smiles uncontrollably, which forces out a tear.

 

BLUNT

Boy, when the last of his clothing is threadbare and gaunt – and can no longer shield me in the elements – I’ll know. Then he’ll be telling me it’s time to let go – to let go of him and retire to the land.

(cheerfully)

But for now, with proper mending, his weeds will clothe me a proper lifetime at sea – and so I’ll wear them with pride.

 

The ship lurches port; the men almost topple off their stools. The ship’s bell RINGS violently. The hatch slams open; rains falls in with the sound of the STORM.

 

SECOND MATE (O.S.)

All hands on deck!

 

[Part 2 – XI: Bow and Cringe]

EXT. QUARTERDECK OF THE HIGHLANDER – NIGHT

The alarm bell ceases to RING. Periodic sheets of rain pummel the lolling deck. The mainmast topsail is ripped and flaps in the intermittent gale. The MATES survey the damage.

 

FIRST MATE

This storm squalls and rests so it’s like a troop of wild horses before the flaming rush of a burning prairie.

 

SECOND MATE

Hoping to be done with it – we must bow and cringe to it for a while more.

 

BLUNT, JACKSON and THE GREENLANDER run up on the main deck to receive orders.

 

FIRST MATE

Take in the canvas to double-reefed-top-sail, and take the boy!

 

SECOND MATE

Tumble up there, my hearties, and take

in that sail!

 

EXT. HALFWAY UP THE MAINMAST

Ascending the port side rope ladder, JACKSON leads the way, followed by BLUNT and THE GREENLANDER. REDBURN trails behind. Jackson points to the yard above and yells down.

 

JACKSON

The sail has ripped! Run her in boys.

 

Jackson steps on the yard and Blunt and The Greenlander pass him quickly going up to the next yardarm. As Redburn approaches, he tells him.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Go and tighten the spars.

 

Jackson points to the starboard side of the yard he is on. Redburn hurries past him to do as told. The ship lists to-and-fro slightly. From Jackson’s point of view – Redburn bends to check the ropes binding the sails. A flash of lighting licks Jackson’s evil eye, and his wet hand extracting his jackknife. From Redburn’s view, the rain runs sideways into his face. He hears a nearby sound, turns to it. THUNDER snarls. Jackson is five feet away with a wild murderous intent – his knife glinting in the dull light from below. Redburn slowly rises, extending arms for balance. He glares at Jackson, daring him. As lightning again lights Jackson, a terrible smile grows desperate. As he starts to lunge, THUNDER roars, and Blunt swings on a rope from the higher yardarm. He kicks the knife out of Jackson’s hand. Jackson nearly topples, but gains his balance. Blunt on the return swing is helped by Redburn to stand on the yard with him. Jackson begins to back up with loathing for Blunt’s interference. The Greenlander is coming down the starboard rope ladder, and Blunt guides Redburn to him.

 

BLUNT

Get on deck.

 

The Greenlander takes Redburn and helps him down. Blunt warns Jackson.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

(low tone)

This ain’t over.

 

EXT. MAIN DECK

REDBURN jumps on deck from the rope ladder, quickly followed by THE GREENLANDER, who grabs his shoulders and looks him over head-to-toe.

 

THE GREENLANDER

(trembles)

Did he hurt you!

 

The sick-with-worry frown from The Greenlander, and raw emotion in his voice, confuses Redburn.

 

REDBURN

No. I…

 

Unaccountably to Redburn, The Greenlander hugs him just as BLUNT lands on the deck. Redburn spots Blunt and thoughtlessly pushes The Greenlander off of him. He goes to Blunt all smiles. As Blunt slaps his back, and the boy responds with jocular action in-kind; heartbreak seeps across The Greenlander’s face.

 

[Part 2 – XII: Blood on the Floor]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – MORNING

The day is fine; sunlight pours down the open hatch and through the bulls eyes. Breakfast is over. Members of the CREW finish up dressing, and their coffee. BLUNT’s and THE GREENLANDER’s conversation becomes an argument.

 

BLUNT

Oh – toss off with ye. You know I shipped as a lad – how could you have more sea-experience?!

 

THE GREENLANDER

Your time as a powder monkey don’t count as seamanship. All you did was run grunt

from magazine to gun deck. There’s no shipping in that!

 

Blunt stiffens his spine, throws his shoulders back and swaggers before the bigger man.

 

BLUNT

Daft! What’s come over you? Now you hate me, or something?

(sincerely)

Tell me what I’ve done to you – eh?!

 

As seen from Blunt, The Greenlander’s face washes over with a micro expression of sheer sorrow. Then, he sees REDBURN over The Greenlander’s shoulder.

 

JACKSON

Cease your clamor! You talk in circles. I will decide the matter.

 

Jackson goes up menacingly to Blunt.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Lend us your jackknife. I’ve had mine misplaced for me…

 

Blunt looks wary, but grins and hands it over. Jackson takes it with obvious hate, but says to The Greenlander.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Now. You come into the light.

 

Jackson walks to stand under the hatch. The Greenlander turns an accusation on Redburn, then grudgingly follows Jackson.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

I can tell who’s been to sea longer – like a trader with a horse. Kneel.

 

The crew stiffen, hating this intentional act of humiliation. The Greenlander reluctantly kneels.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Throw your head back and open your gob.

 

The Greenlander swallows hard, then as he begins to open his mouth, Jackson grabs his chin hard with his left hand.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Open all the way!

 

Now fear spreads across the kneeling man’s face as Jackson raises the knife. It glints as it goes into The Greenlander’s mouth. There is a terrible SOUND – steel on tooth enamel. The Greenlander closes his eyes, and Jackson speaks as if to himself, peering intently.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

I can tell a sailor’s life by the wear on his teeth.

 

The crew are holding back; waiting for any sign of pain to leap into action against the crazy man.

 

DUTCHIE

(aside to Redburn)

Like a baboon peering into a junk bottle.

 

Jackson extracts Blunt’s jackknife.

 

JACKSON

You’re done.

 

The Greenlander stumbles to his feet and goes to Blunt. Jackson waves the knife loosely.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

(to Blunt)

Now you.

 

Blunt never takes his eyes off Jackson as he goes and kneels. With defiance, he yawns wide. Jackson grabs his chin and forces his head back. Jackson’s evil eye trains on Blunt’s look as he sticks the man’s own knife into his mouth. A moment later, Blunt’s hand comes up with force and grabs onto Jackson armed hand. He stands and a steady trickle of blood falls from the corner of his mouth. He lets Jackson go, and spits a glob of blood at his feet. Jackson turns and tells the crew with coolness.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

The Greenlander’s been longer to sea.

 

Jackson sheaths Blunt’s knife in Jackson’s holster, and turns a wicked grin on his victim. Blunt purses his lips and draws back his right fist.

 

JACKSON (CONT’D)

Do it, bender. I’ll lash you Peg Boy to mincemeat myself at the mainmast.

You know the Captain would let me do it too. Well? Punk.

 

There is a clamor from the deck above; FOOTFALLS, SHOUTING, then several voices ring out one by one: “Land-Ho!” The crew look at one another a brief second and scamper up the ladder.

 

EXT. MAIN DECK

Members of the CREW crowd the port side bulwarks. Everyone except JACKSON cheers and congratulates each other. DUTCHIE puts his arm around REDBURN.

 

DUTCHIE

Ireland, boy. Ireland!

 

From the bulwarks, the rocky and verdant shore glints in dappled sunlight. White shore birds pepper the air with crisscross patterns and loud cries.

 

[Part 2 – XIII: Figurehead]

EXT. BOW SECTION OF THE HIGHLANDER – MID- AFTERNOON

The weather is clearing up. Clouds move east, the same as the ship. Near the bowsprit, DUTCHIE has a hammer and is nailing loose boards on the bulwarks. REDBURN stands by with the nails from a small bucket.

 

DUTCHIE

What do you think of Donald?

 

REDBURN

Donald?

 

DUTCHIE

The Highlander, boy – our figurehead!

 

REDBURN

I don’t know. He rather frightens me.

 

DUTCHIE

Good. That’s his job – to fright the sea; to defy Poseidon Himself with his bravery.

Our Highlander – dressed in ‘full-fig,’ as they say – is game to his wooden marrow.

 

EXT. FIGUREHEAD

Donald rides the ripping water below his feet with sunshine glinting off of his glossy features. While DUTCHIE continues, Donald’s details are shown.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D – V.O.)

In a strong gale he is glorious to watch – trekking through; ever daring the waves, upwards and down again, over vales and the heights of watery lowlands and highlands. He guides the ship that she might go foaming on her way fearlessly.

 

EXT. BOW SECTION

REDBURN and DUTCHIE continue.

 

REDBURN

But, his face – it’s awful. His nose is

out of joint.

 

DUTCHIE

Oh, lad, it’s because he’s scrappy.

 

REDBURN

He got a broken nose?

 

DUTCHIE

Aye, and far worse too. Why, a few trips back, a Liverpool tree surgeon had to tend to his sea-brawl and sea-fight wounds. The good doctor proclaimed that like many an old sailor, his leg had to come off.

 

EXT. FIGUREHEAD

While DUTCHIE continues, Donald’s replaced leg and other patched areas are seen in detail, ending with a lingering pause on his broken nose.

 

DUTCHIE (CONT’D – V.O.)

The surgeon worked and worked – off came the useless appendage – on went a new leg – a proper wooden leg, of course! He is a sailor after all. I’m sorry to say, as fine a carpenter-doctor as he had, Ol’ Donald’s new leg – and his new nose splint – never quite set right, for if you watch right close, you might perceive a slight limp. But, a trophy that is, and one that every old sea-veteran from Siam to Siberia would be proud to troop though any sea tavern.

 

EXT. BOW SECTION

REDBURN and DUTCHIE continue.

 

DUTCHIE

No need to fear Donald, son. He watches out for us. Now – go fetch me some twelve-penny nails, these little ones won’t hold here.

 

INT. TOOL SHOP

The door is open to the deck. REDBURN comes into the doorframe and stops. From Redburn’s view, THE GREENLANDER leans against the opposite wall. His hands are raised over his head and holding him away from the wall. His eyes flutter open and shut; he makes little mouth movements. Looking down, Redburn sees the back of LAVENDER’s head at The Greenlander’s waist. He kneels with his hands resting on the man’s thighs, his head moves closer and away from The Greenlander in a regular rhythm. The Greenlander opens his eyes; sees Redburn watching. He slowly lowers his hands and presses on the back of Lavender’s head, increasing his tempo. He grows more vocal; his breaths becoming choppy; his eyes stay focused on Redburn, until he stops pushing Lavender’s head and his eyes roll back in his head. A moment later, he guides Lavender away and does up his trousers. The Greenlander walks straight towards Redburn, gets close enough to whisper something, but only winks slyly, which Redburn sees with a sparkle from the diamond in one of the man’s earrings. The Greenlander shoulders past him, hitting Redburn hard. When Redburn turns back, Lavender is leaning just as The Greenlander had been, and eyeing Redburn. Redburn turns without saying a word.

 

[Part 2 – XIV: A Fair Night – The Least Puddle]

EXT. QUARTERDECK OF THE HIGHLANDER – NIGHT

Set sails billow and lightly rap in a fair breeze. Beyond them, a full moon sets off a dramatic skyscape. Here and there stars peek out between the rigging. The FIRST MATE slowly paces and looks out over the main deck; hands behind his back; a lit cigar in his mouth. Later, LAVENDER comes out of the cabin and climbs the ladder to the quarterdeck. He stand off a pace, taking in the sea air.

 

EXT. MAIN DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER

DUTCHIE, BLUNT, REDBURN and a couple of other members of the CREW lounge by the windlass. A hip flask furtively passes from hand to hand, with cautious glances towards the First Mate.

 

DUTCHIE

A pleasant watch. I wish I had my squeezebox.

 

Redburn glances aft. LAVENDER has moved to lean on the railing above the main deck. He catches his eye; Lavender stands, folds his arms, and an angelic voice emerges as Lavender SINGS the three verses of Blunt’s Mermaid song. THE GREENLANDER comes strolling up to the windlass. He carries the lit stub of a candle and a flat box. The Greenlander’s hands pulls back from a cigar box as he sets it on the windlass. A moment later, his fist comes down and breaks the top. He reaches in and brings a cigar to his teeth; biting and spitting off the tip then lighting it with the candle. He puffs contentedly, then passes the candle and cigars around as he sits.

 

THE GREENLANDER

(smirks at Redburn)

None for young Pillgarlic, there. His mama don’t want baby-boy to smoke – among other vices.

 

The sailors laugh. Redburn steels his resolve and takes a cigar. He does what he has seen and spits. The candle comes to him and he inhales deeply, immediately producing a coughing fit. The men laugh again. Blunt reaches over.

 

BLUNT

I’ll take it.

 

Blunt smokes contentedly and leans back on his elbows. Above him the sails and the evening enfold peacefully over Lavender’s singing.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

Such a fine night, lads. It beats all the cold and rain and makes it seem endurable.

 

DUTCHIE

(to Redburn)

So, boy, we near our travel’s end. Will you ship back with us?

 

REDBURN

Certainly.

 

DUTCHIE

Will ye ship again once back in New York?

 

REDBURN

I…

 

THE GREENLANDER

Take my advice, youngin – as soon as you ever get home, pin your ears to your head so they never take wind again. Sail straight away into the interior of the country. Don’t stop until you are deep in the bush – far from the least running river, stream or brook – never mind how shallow – hie ye out of sight of even the least puddle, lest the water lead you back down to the sea. You are no sailor.

 

DUTCHIE

(offended)

Oh! No, you go too...he’s a regular rigging monkey. Why, I never…what’s gotten into you lately, you….

 

As Dutchie speaks, The Greenlander casts a cold eye on Redburn, who holds his gaze, while a single tears stains the boy’s cheek.

    

[Part 2 – XV: A Social Call]

INT. FORECASTLE OF THE HIGHLANDER – MORNING

Breakfast is over. Members of the CREW finish up dressing and their coffee. REDBURN is preening in a mirror. He is not wearing The Greenlander’s scarf; The Greenlander is; the ring back on The Greenlander’s finger. Redburn wears his best trousers, a blue shirt, and a huge scarf barrowed from Blunt, which is tied like a bow under his chin. JACKSON is in his bunk, watching and occasionally coughing. He does not move from there.

 

BLUNT

(laughs)

Must be going ashore, eh, Redburn? Just watch that first step off the deck. It’s a big one.

 

DUTCHIE

And wet.

 

REDBURN

I’m going to pay my respects to the Captain.

 

THE GREENLANDER

(incredulous)

‘Respects?’

 

REDBURN

Aye. When we first met, he seemed cordial enough, and as my brother arranged for Riga to be my watch on board, I expected to be invited to the cabin – perhaps for a Sunday lunch – but now, I see the onus is upon me to make the first social call. Time is running out on this voyage, so....

 

All the men are wide-eyed. Blunt hush-fingers them; gesturing to play along.

   

BLUNT

Yes. Yes – I’m sure he’ll be delighted at you calling on him.

 

The men round a chorus of ‘Um’ and head nods.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Aye – let him go – let him go! I suspect the Captain will have some nice nuts and raisins for him. Maybe even a donut!

 

BLUNT

But lad, look at your hands! Your nails are yellow from tar. Tisk, tisk – that will never do. Here – wait.

 

Blunt throws open his chest, roots and pulls out thick sealskin mittens.

 

BLUNT (CONT’D)

Not kid leather, but here, slip these on. A gentleman does not go out without his gloves.

 

REDBURN

(puts them on)

Thank you.

 

DUTCHIE

(about to whistle)

Shall I call you a carriage?

 

As Dutchie lets loose with a piercing whistle, The Greenlander stuffs some oakum in Redburn’s pocket.

 

THE GREENLANDER

Don’t forget your calling cards—

 

Blunt plants both hands on Redburn’s face and smooches him loudly.

 

BLUNT

Present my best to our skipper.

 

EXT. MAIN DECK OF THE HIGHLANDER

REDBURN strides confidently aft, members of the CREW trailing in suppressed laughter. As he passes the cookhouse, the COOK comes out. BLUNT whispers something in his ear. The Cook cracks a huge grin, goes inside for a moment, then comes running with a long flesh fork. He presses it in Redburn’s be-mittened hand.

 

COOK

Don’t forget your walking stick—

 

As Redburn approaches the cabin door, the FIRST MATE stands akimbo. Redburn touches the brim of his cap with the flesh fork as he tries to pass by. The First Mate grabs Redburn by the scruff of his collar and hauls him back.

 

FIRST MATE

What in the name of Davy Jones’ locker is the meaning of this!

 

He drops the lad, who straights his clothes.

 

REDBURN

My brother intended the Captain to tutor me aboard ship – circumstances being what they were –

I have been delayed – but, this morning, I intend to visit my friend.

 

The First Mate is slack-jawed; the sailors laugh uncontrollably.

 

FIRST MATE

What do you mean playing such tricks on a ship I am the chief mate of?

If I thought you even half serious, I’d lash you to the bowsprit myself.

 

The cabin door opens. CAPTAIN RIGA, face half-shaven, napkin tied around his neck, and an apple bouncing in his hand, comes out on deck. LAVENDER, razor still in his hand, follows.

 

CAPTAIN RIGA

What is this ruckus?!

 

Redburn runs up to the Captain. He doffs his cap clumsily due to his hand coverings. It winds up halltree’d on the meat fork.

 

REDBURN

It’s a very pleasant day, isn’t it, sir?

 

The Captain draws in a deep breath of shock. In a moment it flashes into rage. He throws the apple hard at Redburn’s chest. Redburn is stunned, but like a ninny, he runs after the apple and returns. He holds it open-mittened before a crimson Riga, and bows.

 

CAPTAIN RIGA

(to the First Mate)

You will have to ripen this greenhorn.

 

The Captain looks like he is about to box Redburn’s ears, when the LOOKOUT calls from above: ‘Liverpool to starboard!’ The First Mate pushes Redburn aside.

 

FIRST MATE

Make everything aright! We are fast upon the mouth of the Mersey.

 

As the crew rush about their duties, Redburn wanders to the port side bow. He leans over the bulwarks. Before him is a gloriously cloudy sky where sunbeams break down to the water and on the landscape behind. The orange-laden waterscape is fringed with whitecaps, darting puffs of seagulls, vessels with sails large and small, while beyond them, the sun-gilded spires and slate roofs of Liverpool shimmer in the wet air. ^[7]

 

 

_