WHITE-JACKET – A Man at War – A Filmscript - 2. Part 2 – Heading South

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[Part 2 – Heading South – I: Up Anchor]

BEGIN ‘HOMEWARD-BOUND’ MONTAGE:

■ It is a lovely twilight; an aerial shot of the Neversink at anchor in Callao descends to land on the deck.

■ A Boatswain’s Mate runs up and blows his whistle: ”All hands, up anchor! Man the capstan!”

■ On deck, members of the crew cheer and toss hats in the air. “Hurrah! We’re homeward-bound!”

■ As Redburn begins his voiceover, the shots continue.

 

REDBURN (V.O.)

Homeward bound – harmonious sound. Were you never summoned to be homeward bound? – No? – Quick! Take the wings of morning, or the sails of a ship, and fly to the uttermost parts of the Earth. Tarry there a year or two; and then let the gruffest of boatswains – his lungs all sandpaper – shout forth ‘Up Anchor,’ and you will swear with goose flesh the harp of Orpheus never did sound so beguiling.

 

■ Four of the total six Lieutenants celebrate in the wardroom. They pass open bottles of port; light cigars; pat each other’s backs. Then they raise glasses and toast.

■ On the poop deck, a sullen Captain Claret looks to the west with its orange light, then turns to remove his hat and feel the breeze blowing from astern.

■ Four of the total six Midshipmen roughhouse in their cabin.

■ Alone in his cabin, the Commodore sits at his table. He is fully regaled, and as the shot gets nearer and nearer, he only stares dead ahead of him – as if with the unblinking eyes of a statue.

■ The voiceover transitions into the beat of the fife and drum corps at the capstan. Members of the crew put their backs into it with grunting determination. These sounds morph into the music of the following song, over which the shots continue.

 

SAILORS (O.S.)

(SING)

”Right before the wind!

Aye, blow ye, blow ye

Ye breezes so long

As ye blow us fair.

 

Then we are homeward bound,

And what else does the crew care!”

 

■ Low view of Sailors legs going ‘round and ‘round the capstan; they RUMBLE in exertion.

■ The anchor chain, dripping and green, slowly rises from the dully glinting water.

■ The Boatswain’s Mate blows his whistle, and shouts: ”Heave and pall! Unship your bars, and make sail!”

■ Low view of Sailor legs flying up shrouds; then up rope ladders against the masts.

■ Sailors string out along the main yards loosening sails.

■ The anchor is hoisted up fully and locked in place. It drips down along the bow, which slowly begins to cut the water in forward momentum.

■ The Sailors on the yard unfurl the main sail. It fills with air like a cloud.

■ Then other sails fall and fill with air in an ascending sequence: the topsails; the topgallants; the top royals.

■ Seen from afar, but recognizable because of his white jacket, Redburn glides along the top royal yard, and punches his fist triumphantly in the air over his head.

■ A high shot of the Neversink sailing south on orange-gilt seas. The setting sun is on her starboard side.

END ‘HOMEWARD-BOUND’ MONTAGE.

 

  

[Part 2 – II: After-Dinner Smoke]

EXT. BACK PORCH OF REDBURN’S HOME – TWILIGHT

The house is high up on the eastern banks of the Hudson River. Lush early-autumn foliage rolls down the slope to the river, and up the other side again where an orange sun is setting. REDBURN and PETER sit with full bellies. Redburn pats his, and undoes his top trouser button. He leans back, tilting his chair, kicks his feet up on the railings, and both men ponder their lit cigars.

 

REDBURN

How I missed this view. Tonight reminds me of our shove-off from Callao.

 

Peter suddenly looks green. He sours on his cigar, reaching for his handkerchief, and coughs some bloody phlegm into it. He hides it, he thinks, from his brother’s view.

 

PETER

What will you do now? Return to teaching?

 

REDBURN

No, brother.

 

PETER

You should marry.

 

Redburn is sickened. He lowers the front legs of his chair, and debates a confrontation with his older brother.

 

REDBURN

Who are we fooling? There is the galling tinge of hypocrisy in that urging of yours, brother.

 

Peter realizes this man next to him is not the twenty-year-one-old he sent to sea a few years ago.

 

REDBURN (CONT’D)

I will not lock myself away in a room, and pretend that inner space is my true home – like a cloistered ghost in a closet.

(sighs; touches Peter’s hand)

I know that you did not marry, Peter, because you and I are alike, so do not urge me to that unhappiness.

 

PETER

I will not tell you that you do not know your brother – but, you do not know everything. I did not marry because my time on Earth is short.

 

REDBURN

Pshaw, Peter! You have your Washington appointment in the new administration. They don’t give those to sick men.

 

Peter has a coughing fit; he cannot hide the blood this time. As Redburn stands to help him, Peter forces him back.

 

PETER

I worry. What will you do with your life?

 

Peter stands to face his little brother.

 

REDBURN

Write! There is much evil in the world of man; it should be bleached in fresh air and sunshine. I almost lost my last onion-string of faith in humanity onboard that ship.

 

PETER

The Navy ship; what do you mean?

 

REDBURN

I mean – there is ‘sin’ in the world, and then there is ‘vice.’ Sin is a private affair and no one has the moral right to force down doors to call out their neighbors’ splinters with planks in their own eyes! No – ‘vice,’ that is different – coercion; use of force and the appointed power of man to hurt our fellow humans, that is evil, that is corrupting, and it needs exposing.

 

Peter sinks back into his chair, looking more worried than ever.

 

[Part 2 – III: Down-Below Man]

INT. FORWARD HOLD OF THE NEVERSINK – MORNING

SHAKINGS is working by himself, shirtless, and glowing with sweat. He is stacking bales that come up to about his waist. He hears a NOISE, turns and sees PERT approaching him, so he puffs up akimbo and waits for the teenager.

 

SHAKINGS

(hand going to his forehead)

Sir!

 

PERT

(looks behind him, then goes closer)

No use denying it, man. I’ve seen your suggestive eyes on me at morning musters.

 

Pert adjusts his crotch. Shakings leans back on a bale, extracting his bandanna, and half sneers as he slowly wipes his brow and neck with it.

 

SHAKINGS

Sir? – I’m just a lowly down-below man. What could you want with me?

 

PERT

(comes closer, forcing Shakings to stand)

Let’s drop the pretense. Let’s make an arrangement – I’ll give you what you want, but you must keep it as a gentleman’s pact – and if I hear any whisper of what we do, your back will answer the cat-o-nine-tails for it.

 

Shakings takes a step towards Pert, who falters a half-step back. A lecherous corner of Shaking’s mouth rises.

 

SHAKINGS

I want assurances that my young officer-in-training won’t blab about it either.

 

PERT

(chuckles)

You have less to lose than I do.

 

SHAKINGS

You know who you’re dealing with, right? You know I’ve done time in Sing Sing.

 

Pert nerves up; he comes and places his hand on Shaking’s bulge.

 

PERT

I know all about you.

 

Pert undoes his own trousers, and guides Shakings to his knees. The man grips the teen boy’s still-clad thighs, and locks mischievous eyes with his.

 

CUT TO:

 

Shakings bent facedown over a bale. His hands grip and rock in ecstasy as Pert takes his pleasure from behind.

 

[Part 2 – IV: Wulu and the Whiteness of the Jacket]

INT. GUN DECK OF THE NEVERSINK – MORNING

On the starboard side, members of the CREW, who form arm-in-arm pairs, stroll up and down. They sociably nod and speak friendly words in passing to on-coming couples. There are a few sailors who stroll singly, including REDBURN and WULU. On the port side, two or three officers, including the handsome Marines Corporal COLBROOK, pace in their full-dress uniforms. They do not acknowledge each other, nor the sailors segregated on the other side. As they pass a second time, Wulu joins Redburn. He holds out his hand for shaking.

 

WULU

(in POLYNESIAN, with subtitles)

Brother, don’t I know you? I’m called Wulu, Commodore’s Steward.

 

REDBURN

(in POLYNESIAN, with subtitles)

White-Jacket, man of the main top. It’s nice to meet you.

 

WULU

(in POLYNESIAN, with subtitles)

Someone told me you could speak Polynesian…

(he catches Redburn’s eye linger on Colbrook)

…That’s Colbrook, Marines Corporal. Handsome, eh?

 

Redburn smiles and nods.

 

WULU (CONT’D)

(in POLYNESIAN, with subtitles)

Why is your jacket white?

 

REDBURN

(miffed to think about it)

Because the Purser won’t let me have any paint to waterproof it; the spendthrift.

 

WULU

I think there is greater purpose to your jacket’s whiteness.

 

REDBURN

(laughs)

What?

 

WULU

You know my people: our beliefs. White is a pure color, the color of what your Christian Faith calls ‘grace,’ or what we know as mana – the force of the universe.

 

REDBURN

(in POLYNESIAN, with subtitles)

You are sage, my brother, but what does that have to do with me?

 

WULU

(in POLYNESIAN, with subtitles)

Suffering; loss – do you know these are written all over your face? Within you is a struggle. A fight for your pure self not to become the jaded and closed-down man you have seen so much amongst sailors. You fight to stay as you were before sorrow became your sole companion.

 

REDBURN

(uneasy laugh)

And all this you can tell from a jacket?

 

WULU

Brother – I do not tell you anything you have not revealed to yourself. I think this symbol you’ve made with your own hands – maybe at journey’s end – you will offer as sacrifice to the Great Gods. That is, if it does not kill you first.

 

They stop strolling. Wulu slaps hands on his waist, tosses his head back, and laughs a shrill and premonition-laden howl. Their attention shifts to LANDLESS and two other SAILORS running towards them. They are drunk and being chased by the MASTER-AT-ARMS, LEGS and POUNCE. The drunk men split; Landless, pushing his way between Redburn and Wulu, goes to a gun port and halfheartedly tries to climb out. The Master-at-Arms roughly grabs him, hauls him mid-deck and dumps him; Colbrook stops and watches. Redburn tries to help Landless stand, but the Master-at-Arms forces the drunk down and clubs him. Redburn stops the blows, but just as the officer is about to beat Redburn, Landless laughs.

 

LANDLESS

(laughs)

Death before dishonor!

 

MASTER-AT-ARMS

(jerking him up by the collar)

No, matey. Dishonor before death; you and the gratings, and the Boatswain’s scourge.

 

LANDLESS

You can’t flog me – you’re the one—

 

The Master-at-Arms cudgels the drunk’s head.

 

MASTER-AT-ARMS

Shut it, or it will be worse for you.

 

Legs and Pounce arrive with the other two drunks. The three policemen haul their men off. Wulu trails behind them, chuckling to himself. Redburn turns, sees Colbrook looking at him, so he touches his forehead and slightly smiles. The Corporal returns both salute and grin. PATRICK comes running up to Redburn in a huff. He’s holding a brass key on a long, thin chain.

 

PATRICK

Where have you been! It’s your turn on the roster to cook dinner.

 

Patrick forces the key around Redburn’s neck, while the recipient blinks in unprepared silence.

 

PATRICK (CONT’D)

Go to the galley! The Cook’s Mates will show you! Hurry – dinner’s at noon, and today is duff day. You know how a sailor loves his pudding.

 

[Part 2 – V: Three Blind Mice]

INT. GALLEY OF THE NEVERSINK – MORNING

The three giant cauldrons steam in the background. In the foreground is a long table where various SAILOR mess cooks wear aprons and quickly assemble their puddings. REDBURN stands next to ROSEWATER, with flour, suet, raisins and a pitcher of water before him. He does not know what to do. Rosewater is preparing onions and bell peppers for the officers’ mess. At the cauldron on the left, SUNSHINE stands on a stepstool and uses a long-handled skimmer to slush his pot. MAYDAY has a long pole balanced on his shoulder, from which hang cantaloupe-size canvas bags by strings. Each bag is tied tight and has a metal tag bouncing off of it. He climbs his stool and carefully lowers the bags to simmer in the central cauldron. Rosewater takes a break and skims his cauldron too. In the meantime, the other Sailor cooks have finished up, and tied their bags to Sunshine’s new pole. These men leave. When Rosewater returns to chopping, he finds Redburn has made no progress. Sunshine is impatient for Redburn’s duff, and makes eye contact with Rosewater, who only shrugs. As Sunshine begins to sing, he checks that all the bags are secure, and puts them in the cauldron. ^[3]

 

SUNSHINE

(SINGS)

”Arroz con leche

Me quiero casar

Con una señorita

Que sepa bailar.

 

Que sepa coser

Que sepa planchar

Que sepa abrir la puerta

Para ir a jugar.”

 

ROSEWATER

That’s his pudding song. Like it?

 

REDBURN

Spanish?

 

ROSEWATER

(shrugs)

I don’t know; he’s Dominican. I’m Rosewater, the singer is Sunshine, and the incorrigible’s Mayday.

 

REDBURN

Nice to meet you all. I’m White-Jacket.

 

ROSEWATER

(huffy)

Nicer to meet some…

(gestures to Mayday with his head)

…Than others, I’m sure.

 

Redburn laughs; looks hopelessly at his ingredients. Rosewater gets a bowl and plops it in front of Redburn.

 

ROSEWATER

You don’t know how to make a puddin’ – but you, like every sailor, are a real lover of your ‘duffs,’ ‘dunderfunks,’ and your ‘spotted dicks’ too.

 

MAYDAY

You watch it, Mr. White-Jacket, Rosewater there likes ‘to live down under the rose,’ if you know what I mean – conducts his business on the sly.

 

ROSEWATER

You dusky child, just keep making your rough music with your pots and pans; no one’s listening to your words.

 

With Rosewater’s encouragement, Redburn adds flour to the bowl. Mayday starts beating a regular rhythm.

 

ROSEWATER (CONT’D)

First time that Polynesian buck Wulu got a slice of spotted dick, he picked out all the raisins; said he don’t eat bugs!

 

Rosewater and Redburn continue to talk as Mayday sings, and Sunshine joins him on the chorus. Rosewater dings the water pitcher with a wooden spoon before dropping it in the bowl. ^[4]

 

MAYDAY

(SINGS)

”I got shoes; you got shoes;

All God’s chillun got shoes;

When I get to heaven, I’m gonna put on my shoes;

I’m gonna walk all over God’s heaven.”

 

MAYDAY and SUNSHINE

(SING)

”Heaven, heaven,

Everybody talkin’ ‘bout heaven ain’t gonin’ there –

Heaven, heaven

I’m gonna walk all over God’s heaven.”

 

MAYDAY

(SINGS)

”I got wings; you got wings;

All a God’s chillun got wings;

When I get to heaven, I’m gonna hitch on ma wings;

I’m gonna fly all over God’s heaven.”

 

Mayday and Sunshine repeat the chorus.

 

ROSEWATER

(over his shoulder)

Mayday! You keep your lowbrow field-hand chirping to yourself – and you, Sunshine,

(makes a tippling motion with his hand)

You’ve been out in the sun too long again.

(watches Redburn add raisins)

You know, I personally favor the poetry of Thomas Moore. Are you familiar with ‘Love of the Angels?’

 

REDBURN

No, I can’t say that I am.

 

Redburn begins the process of putting his pudding in the bag and readying it for cooking.

 

ROSEWATER

I’ll let you borrow it. I can tell you are an educated person – ^[5]

(RECITES)

”Ere sorrow came, or Sin was drawn,

When Earth lay nearer to the skies

Than in these days of crime and woe,

To fester such in this world below.

 

One evening, in the primal hour,

Three noble youths conversing lay –

Spirits who once in boyhood

Like the creatures of light still at play –

Could echo yet God’s luminous word.”

 

REDBURN

Impressive.

 

MAYDAY

Get a load of that! Some fellas think they belong in the lecture hall, readin’ po’try.

 

Redburn proudly hands his tied pudding to Mayday, who goes about attaching it to the pole with the others. Sunshine speaks to Redburn about his co-workers' bickering.

 

SUNSHINE

If you think that’s impressive, you should see Mayday and Rosewater in the lee waist sometime. They headbutt for the Captain’s pleasure!

 

MAYDAY

(taunting)

Yeah – see him in the ring with me.

 

Redburn begins to clean up his work area, and Mayday teases Rosewater with the following song. Rosewater tries to pretend that his prep work takes all his concentration, but a hopeless look of profound despair spills out from him onto Redburn. It gets worse as Mayday and Sunshine start to dance around and poke Rosewater in an attempt to get him to react. ^[6]

 

MAYDAY

(SINGS)

”There’s a brown girl in the ring,

Tra la la la la

Brown girl in the ring

Tra la la la la

 

She looks like a sugar plum fairy

Air, air, airy.

Show me your motion

Tra la la la la

Come on, show me your motion

Tra la la la la.”

 

MAYDAY and SUNSHINE

(SING)

"She looks like a sugar plum fairy

Air, air, airy.

Show us your motion

Tra la la la la.”

 

[Part 2 – VI: Mess on Deck]

EXT. MAIN DECK OF THE NEVERSINK – NOON

REDBURN sits on the upturned match tub. He is at the head of Mess No. Fifteen’s cloth; SCRIMMAGE, PATRICK, LEMSFORD and seven others SAILORS looks expectantly at the boiled bundle that Redburn suspends by its string. Patrick genuflects and lifts up a tin plate to receive the delicacy. Redburn unwraps the cloth on a perfect-looking globe of boiled-pudding splendor. The men heave a collective sigh of relief. Patrick sets the treat in the center of the mess cloth, and a descending shot from above rotates down on the steaming dessert. Scrimmage leans in with a carving knife and fork. As the shot gets to the pudding, the tip of the knife pierces the outer shell of cooked dough, and the duff collapses under its own gravity into a raw swill of water, beef fat, flour and raisins. Redburn is horrified. Angry glares land on him like punches.

 

REDBURN

Fellas! I…I have done my duty by that duff; I swear I have!

 

PATRICK

(laughs)

At least it’s not a stone-hard mass like we sometimes get.

 

SCRIMMAGE

(sickens)

Patrick, my boy,

(picks up the pan and shoves it under his nose)

Will you be eating this?

(Patrick shakes his head)

I thought h’as much. A tough duff is still a duff at heart. A watery pudding is swill not fit for man nor beast.

 

LEMSFORD

(attempts to shield Redburn)

That last pudding you made us, Scrimmage, was harder than a banker’s heart.

 

SCRIMMAGE

H’aye, maybe so, but harder yet is that which I turn on this ‘White-Jacket.’ Mine is a vice-toughened heart; mine is worse than a sinner’s ticker; mine is as heartless as a banker’s core, h’and that is the selfsame center I now turn on this rogue.

(stands; shouts)

What h’are we going to eat?

 

REDBURN

(laughs)

For heaven’s sake—

 

Redburn’s thought is drowned out by his messmates’ curses.

 

SCRIMMAGE

I say we find Blacksmith’s h’anvil h’and make a necklace for young pogue here. Care to take a dip? A deep one? Do ye not know when your presence is not wanted! Disassemble. You h’are no member of Mess No. Fifteen h’anymore.

 

REDBURN (V.O.)

(rising; about to lose it)

I was in a rage: a roil of foaming hatred that flared my nostrils and elevated my clenched fists. I hated them, and perhaps Wulu had prophesied this moment – the time my vindictive feeling of a slight would wreck me as man – I would fight or die. I verged on becoming all the worst sort of sailors that I had always hated; a Jackson, a Jim, or a Bembo. I suddenly knew that without another intimate to rein me in, I could not survive my short temper alone.

 

JACK CHASE is suddenly at Redburn’s side. Jack takes him by the shoulders, and speaks loudly, rotating his head like a siren.

 

JACK CHASE

Welcome, my boy, to the best mess that ever sailed the seven Watery Domains – ‘The Forty-Two-Pounder Club.’

 

Jack leads Redburn over to a mess cloth, which is front and center by the mainmast. This mess includes SHENLEY; a handsome African American forty-something Gun Captain named TAWNEY; a strapping youth, in his mid-twenties with moody-dark eyes and raven hair named NORD; and seven others SAILORS. Jack sits Redburn next to Nord, and does the introductions with information mixed in between.

  

JACK CHASE (CONT’D)

White-Jacket, my lad, you will find – Tawney – that our – Parrie – mess society is – Shenley – one and all amassed of – Nord – a glorious set of fine fellows! One and all are men composed of large intellect and corporal caliber. Mess No. One welcomes you!

 

Nord places a plate of food into Redburn’s hands.

 

REDBURN

Nord, isn’t it? I’ve seen you with Lemsford quite often. You’re his mate, right?

 

NORD

Who wants to know?

 

REDBURN

A friend to Lemsford, and a potential friend to you.

 

Nord eats in quiet reserve, but casts secret and dark smiles at Redburn. Shenley has an aside with Tawney.

 

SHENLEY

Unlucky. Thirteenth member of a mess – it bodes doom for one of us. Mark my words.

 

TAWNEY

Oh, Shenley, save your sailor superstitions for the landlubbers. It’s them you can give goose bumps to, not us old sea dogs.

 

Tawney laughs heartily.

 

 

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