H.M.S. Defiant

Up your oars!

Come on, jump to it!

Press-gang, muster on the jetty!

Mr. Scott-Padget,

I shall return to Defiant in three hours.

We shall be there too, Sir,

with a full crew ready and anxious to serve.

Thank you, Mr. Scott-Padget.

Press-gang.

Don't let him get away!

Stop him.

Press gangs are busy tonight.

Yes.

Probably ours.

Down there!

We're a few men short.

Well, a few dozen.

Well, things get worse.

It seems the English sailor's lost his taste for fighting.

Oh, I doubt that, Sir.

Maybe he's lost his taste

for the conditions in which he's expected to fight.

Must have discipline.

Of course, Sir.

But we must admit His Majesty's Navy uses a heavy hand.

On occasion, perhaps, too heavy.

Apart from any finer feelings, it could be dangerous.

A lower deck is too often like a prison hulk.

No freedom, irregular pay,

and food that even rats won't touch.

Sorry, Sir.

Speaking out of turn.

True, every word.

You've enough trouble ahead without provoking any.

Still, that's up to the Lords of the Admiralty to settle.

This is our business.

Sailing orders, Crawford.

Thank you, Sir.

I understand I make for Corsica and report

to Admiral Jarvis.

Correct.

And with all possible speed.

Try not to get involved in any side issues on the way.

- Aye, aye, Sir. - How's your glass?

Your First Lieutenant, Mr. Scott-Padget,

what do you make of him?

- Well, from a brief meeting, I would judge him

to be both efficient and keen.

So keen that he's out now with a press-gang.

Hmm.

I hate tattling.

No question about the man's efficiency,

utter devotion to duty and all of that.

But I ought to warn you-

if you'll forgive me, Sir.

I would prefer to make up my own mind about him.

Stop!

Stop.

- You mustn't resist the King's press, my dear.

That will never do.

Don't take him, please.

We've only been married three days.

You don't want him.

He's not a sailor.

He's never been to sea in all his life.

We shall teach him.

You can't take him from me.

You can't, you can't!

Sir, I beseech you, have pity on us.

Bring him along.

These men are from the Defiant.

Press-gang.

From our ship, I think.

We're all Navy men here.

They can't touch us.

Just the same,

we'd have some explaining to do, wouldn't we?

You have to come along with us.

You can't do that.

He's a gentleman.

Well, of course I am.

Take your filthy hands off me!

Sir?

Am I in error, Sir?

Thank heaven you're here.

Perhaps, you'll tell him.

You can see I'm a gentleman.

Look at these lovely clothes.

Take him, Dawlish.

But you can't.

Now, Vizard, you sail tomorrow?

Yeah, Mediterranean.

So you'll have to count us out for the present.

There's no need.

When your ship joins the fleet there, spread the word.

If the Mediterranean fleet and the channel fleet

struck at the same time, we'd win our demands overnight.

You're going to act soon then?

As soon as we are ready,

every ship in the channel fleet will mutiny.

Before spring?

That depends.

How does your crew stand?

We've got 40 more pledges.

- We've sworn half the ship's company already.

Good.

Poor men.

Driven like cattle.

I don't understand it.

Having to be pressed to go to sea?

- Not everyone wants to leave their homes, Harvey.

- But think of it, mother, sailing in the Defiant

and fighting the French.

You sound just like your father.

Anyway, the Admiral may not agree to let you go.

Father's back!

What did the Admiral say?

Say?

About Harvey.

No objection.

After all, it's the custom.

He thinks it's about time you found your sea legs.

Thank you, father.

- Gather your things and we'll get you settled

in Defiant tonight.

- I'm ready! - Harvey.

Sorry, mother.

Good-bye, my dear.

Look after yourself.

Good-bye, mother.

Wait for me below.

He'll find things a bit different from the training ship.

- He's only 12. - Oh, don't worry.

He can take care of himself.

How long this time?

A year?

- Less, perhaps. - Only perhaps?

I hate good-byes on the jetty.

I know what you're going to say.

So I'll take my leave of you now.

- You left me days ago, as soon as you caught sight

of the sea.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

God keep you both.

Well, what do you think of her?

Toss your oars.

We'd better say good-bye.

Once we sail, there'll be no occasion to talk.

Good-bye, father.

Good-bye, Harvey.

- Bows. - Aye, aye, Sir.

Carry on, Mr. Crawford.

Boats ahoy!

- Captain's jolly boat coming alongside, Sir!

Full company aboard, Sir.

Very good.

Mr. Scott-Padget, this is midshipman Crawford.

- You must be very proud to serve in the same ship

- as your father. - Yes, Sir, I am.

- Mr. Kilpatrick, will you take the captain's son down

to the gun room

and introduce him to his mess mates?

Aye, Sir.

Stand by to hoist captain's jolly boat.

- Please pass the word to all officers that Mr. Crawford

is to be treated no differently from other midshipmen.

Yes, I quite understand.

Lots of women still aboard.

- Mostly wives, I reckon. - Hello, my love.

Who are they?

Them? They're the pressed men.

Come on. Follow me.

Bye, my love.

Get those wretched women off the ship!

- Hoist away! - Dawlish!

Swing them over!

- Clear the decks! - See you next trip, Nell.

- All supplies aboard, Sir, checked and correct.

- Thank you, Mr. Scott-Padget. - Parade the recruits.

Aye, aye, Sir.

- Parade recruits. - Get on deck!

- Lively! - You men,

look lively, will you?

Come on, come on, come on!

Fall in at the end of these two lines.

Where are you going?

- Now look here my man, I must see the captain immediately.

It's outrageous.

I've been wrongly pressed.

Get in that line!

Recruits ready for inspection, Sir.

There's a man here says he's been wrongly pressed.

Wants to be put ashore, Sir.

I brought him in myself.

Says he's a gentleman, Sir.

- He's a fraud. - I'm not. I'm as good as...

I insist that my antecedents are as Honourable, Sir,

as your own doubtless are.

What is your name?

Wagstaffe.