The Lighthouse (2019) - full transcript
Two lighthouse keepers try to maintain their sanity whilst living on a remote and mysterious New England island in the 1890s.
Ow.
Should pale death
with treble dread
make the ocean caves
our bed,
God who hear'st
the surges roll,
deign to save
our suppliant soul.
To four weeks!
No, sir. Thank you.
It's bad luck to leave
a toast unfinished, lad.
Oh, meanin'...
Meanin' no disrespect.
Man what don't drink,
best have his reasons.
Uh... Ain't it...
I... I understood it's
against regulations, sir.
Did you?
I did, sir. From, uh...
From them's manual.
Didn't picture you
a readin' man.
Well, I ain't trying
for trouble.
Then you'll do
as I say.
That's in yer book too.
To four weeks.
Aye. Aye. The cistern
needs a-lookin' to.
One of yer duties, lad.
Or didn't y'read
yerself about it?
You'll clean the brass
and the clockwork,
and you'll tidy up
the quarters after.
And there's well more
to be mended outside.
D'y'hear me, lad?
Yes, sir.
Aye, sir!
Aye, sir.
When the fog clears,
you'll work through
the dog watch.
Doggin' it? I was 'specting
I'd git up to see the lantern.
I tend the light.
Well, the rules is
alternatin' shifts.
It's the mid watch
that's to dread, lad.
My watch,
night to morning.
Some new junior man
I'm fixed with.
See to yer duties.
The light is mine.
Son of a bitch!
To ye, me beauty.
Shingles.
Tend to 'em
after the cistern.
And the lamp,
she needs oil.
Aye, sir.
Go!
Move it.
You don't go in there!
- Oil, sir.
- Tired? Use this next time.
Save you
a helluva lot of trouble.
Catch yer breath, lad.
I said,
catch yer breath, lad.
Then bring that drum
back down the ladderwell
where y'found it.
'Less ye're fixin' to burn
the whole light down.
Then see to the rest
of yer duties.
Ye're behindhand already.
- Aye, sir.
- Ye're too slow. You a dullard?
No, sir.
Fooled me.
Should pale death
with treble dread
make the ocean caves
our bed,
God who hear'st
the surges roll,
deign to save
the suppliant soul.
Still tastes o'the head?
Ah, find some chirk
in ye, lad.
Now is the time
for gab and chatter.
Y'best be enjoying it.
Come a fortnight and the
brace of us'll be wantin'
to be ever silent
as the tomb.
I ain't much for talkin'.
Reckon ye're the first?
No, sir. I don't.
Y'ain't.
Y'ain't.
The Chicopee,
a fine-un she were.
Clean-built
and trig-lookin'!
None more fleet in '64
than she.
We were on the breaks...
A mutiny, it were...
And why, ask ye? Why?
What's the terrible part of
a sailor's life, ask ye, lad?
'Tis when the work stops when
ye're twixt wind and water.
Doldrums. Doldrums.
Eviler than the Devil.
Boredom makes men
to villains,
and the water
goes quick, lad, vanished.
The only med'cine is drink.
Keeps them sailors happy,
keeps 'em agreeable,
keeps 'em calm,
keeps 'em...
Stupid.
Curse me if there ain't
an old tar spirit
somewheres in ye, lad.
Out with it, lad.
Uh...
What, uh... What made
your last keeper leave?
Him? Me second?
Mmm-hmm.
Died.
Went mad, he did.
Ravin' about sirens, merfolk,
bad omens and the like.
In the end,
weren't no more sense left
in him than an hen's tooth.
He believed that there was
some enchantment in the light.
He notioned that St. Elmo
had cast
his very fire into it.
Salvation, said he.
Tall tales.
I seen ye
sparrin' with a gull.
Best leave 'em be.
Bad luck to kill a sea bird.
More tall tales.
Bad luck to kill a sea bird!
Pay me no mind, lad.
None.
Fix us up some coffee.
Long night ahead.
Drop o'coffee
will do us good.
You've been neglecting
yer duties, lad!
Don't deny it!
What do you call that?
- Sir?
- What?
I... I mopped and swept
twice over, sir.
Ye lyin' dog.
- I swept 'em.
- 'Tis begrimed and bedabbled.
Unwiped, unwashed,
and distained.
You git some kinda peart
outta molestin' me?
Come now?
I already said...
How dare ye contradict me,
y'dog.
Now look here,
I ain't never intended
to be no housewife
nor slave
in takin' this job.
It ain't right!
These lodgings is
more ramshackle
than any shanty boy's camp
I ever seen.
The Queen of England's
own fancy housekeeper
couldn't even done no better
than what I done,
'cause I tell you,
I scrubbed
this here place
twice over, sir...
And I say y'did nothin'
o'the sort.
And I say,
y'swab it again,
and y'swab it
proper-like this time,
and you'll be swabbin' it
10 times more after that.
And if I tells ye
to pull up and apart
every floorboard and clapboard
of this here house
and scour 'em down
with yer bare,
bleedin' knuckles,
you'll do it!
And if I tells ye to yank out
every single nail
from every moulderin'
nail-hole
and suck off
every spec of rust
till all them nails sparkle
like a sperm whale's pecker,
and then carpenter
the whole light station
back together from scrap,
and then do it all over again,
you'll do it!
And by God and by Golly,
you'll do it smilin', lad,
'cause you'll like it.
You'll like it
'cause I says you will!
Contradict me again,
and I'll dock yer wages.
D'ye hear me, lad?
Aye, sir.
Ah.
Swab, dog.
Swab!
Keep 'em steady, lad.
Aye, sir.
Whitewash
must be even, lad.
Bright! Shinin'!
Like a silver
whorehouse token.
Give them sailors
a proper daymark.
They're not going
to see it in a goddamn storm!
Keep your temper now, lad.
'Tis fine work.
And ye're makin' high marks
in me logbook.
Them's gospel!
I'll drop y'down
a few feet.
Easy!
Never been in better hands.
Easy!
Quit yer flailing, lad.
- I ain't!
- Y'are!
- Keep still!
- I am!
Git! Git! Git! Git!
Thank ye, lad.
Winslow.
Ephraim Winslow.
These last two weeks, I'd...
I'd like it
if you'd call me by my name.
Listen to ye,
giving orders, lad.
- Winslow.
- All right, all right.
Suits me just as fine,
Ephraim Winslow.
So, what brung such a one
as ye to this damned rock?
Such as what?
Pretty as a picture.
Only joshing, lad,
only josh...
- Winslow.
- Winslow.
What brung ye...
...to this rock,
Ephraim Winslow?
What were yer work afore?
- Timber.
- Timber?
Big timber. Up north.
Canada ways.
- Hudson Bay outfit?
- The same.
True what they say?
"Forest as far
as the eye can see"?
Yessir. Spruce, tamarack,
white pine.
"Bush," them folk
up there call it.
Had enough of trees,
that it, then?
Yes, sir.
Can't say I blame ye.
I hearn tell
about that life.
Hard goin'.
Workin' one man harder
than two hosses, they say.
No thankee.
The sea, she's the only
situation wantin' fer me.
Miss it?
Ain't nothing
what can touch it.
But I can't...
be draggin'
me old stump about.
Nay. Not worth the trouble...
Now I'm a wickie
and a wickie I is.
And I'm damn-well wedded
to this here light,
and she's been a finer,
truer, quieter wife
than any alive-blooded woman.
Y'ever married?
Thirteen Christmases at sea...
Little 'uns at home.
She never forgave it.
'Tis fer the better.
Since we're getting
too friendly, Ephraim Winslow,
tell me, what's a timber man
want with being a wickie?
Not enough quiet
for ye up north?
Sawdust itching yer nethers?
Foreman found ye
too high-tempered
for carrying an axe?
Like you said, I just had
enough of trees, I guess.
Since I left Dad,
I done every kind of work
that can pay a man.
Some I ain't near proud of.
- Drifter, eh?
- No, just...
Can't find a post
I can take a real shine to,
so I keep movin' along.
And I ain't the kind
to look back
- at what's behind him, see.
- On the run?
Now look here,
ain't nothin' wrong with a man
startin' fresh, startin' new,
just lookin'
to earn a living...
No...
Just like any man,
just wanna settle down
quiet-like with some earnings.
I read someplace that
a man could earn 630...
I read $1,000 a year
if he tends a light
far off shore.
The further away,
the more he earns.
I read that, and hell,
I says, work.
Save my earnings.
Sometime soon
I'll raise my own roof,
somewheres up country,
with no one to tell me
"what for".
And that's all.
Same old, borin' story, eh?
Well, you asked.
Say, why is it bad luck
to kill a gull?
In 'em's the souls of sailors
what met their maker.
You a prayin' man, Winslow?
Not as often as I might.
But I'm God-fearin',
if that's what you're askin'.
Shit.
Wind's changed.
- Oh. Good riddance.
- Oh, don't be so darn foolish.
It's the calm
afore the storm, Winslow.
She were a gentle
westerly wind ye're cursin'.
Only feels roughly
'cause you don't know
nothin' about nothin',
and there ain't no trees
on this here rock
like your Hudson Bay bush.
Nor'Easterly wind'll
come soon
ablowin' like Gabriel's horn.
Best board up
them signal house winders.
Aye, sir.
'Twill keep steady
afore the tender
comes in the morn,
I 'spect...
but there's dirty weather
knockin' about.
Somethin' stirring in ye?
Ye're gettin' off this rock
tomorry. Winslow.
Don't start grudgen me now.
No, sir.
Keeping secrets, are ye?
I could just use a hand
with them boards, is all.
Pull, Winslow!
Look at 'em!
Better than fin fishin'!
Ain't no crime
to take a snort now.
A clear night.
And our last afore relief.
I ain't never know'd
an inspector
what wouldn't turn
a blind eye.
And I won't
take no for an answer.
Should pale death
and treble dread...
Ah, hell!
To... To relief!
And how!
Oh!
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound ♪
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound! ♪
♪ When we're
arrived at Bedford docks ♪
♪ Them bloomers
comin' out in flocks ♪
♪ Them pretty girls
They all did say ♪
♪ Here comes Jack
with his nine-month pay ♪
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound ♪
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound! ♪
...and a pretty lass,
she were,
takin' off her bonnet,
but as I says,
I'd broke me leg,
and banged myself all up.
It was
to a nuns' hospital...
All of them nuns
were Catholics, I tell ye.
But I never went
to Salem since
without hoping
that I should see her,
for beddin' down
wer'nt the same since.
You feel shame
when you lie with a woman?
I ain't 'shamed
of nothing!
Well, I'll say it...
I might even miss ye,
Ephraim Winslow.
Ye're fastly a true blue wickie
in the making, you is.
Thought one night
you was bound to
split me skull in twain,
but ye're a good-un.
Why, you'll be workin'
the lamp in no time.
Why haven't I?
What?
The light.
I'm the keeper of this station, lad.
Some other station,
y'can tend the light.
The manual says...
My log is the only book
on this rock...
I'm the keeper
of the light, lad,
I never let
no man touch her...
Don't concern yerself
with the beacon, lad!
Mine!
Have it your way.
Say, I never...
I don't...
I don't know your name.
Wake.
Your Christian name.
Thomas.
- Thomas?
- Aye, Thomas Wake.
Call me Tom.
Well...
To my friend Tom.
And to gittin' off
this goddamned rock!
What'r y'splittin'
yer lungs fer?
You smell o' shit.
Best swab this mess
afore the tender comes.
Do as ye're told, lad!
The quarters are dire.
Aye... Aye, sir.
Aye.
They didn't come.
The damp's
got to the provisions!
What?
The damp's
got to the provisions!
The damp's
got to the foodstuffs.
The salt cod is out.
- Out?
- Blasted.
Gone to rot.
- Praised be.
- Will you hear me now?
- Hear what?
- That we best be rationing.
- Rationing?
- You insubordinate again?
It's only been one day.
Devil's tail.
Look, maybe the tender
did come.
We just missed her, is all.
I can take the dory out.
Weeks, Winslow. Weeks.
What?
What do you mean, what?
- Weeks?
- Weeks. Aye, weeks.
We slept in. Dead drunk.
It's been weeks ago
since we missed her, Winslow.
And I've been askin' ye
to ration fer weeks now, too,
but you've kept barking
at me like a mad dog
sayin' you can
"take the dory out."
- Now, look here.
- Oh, no.
Don't be losing
yer head now.
- This ain't funny.
- No, it ain't.
And I ain't want to be
stranded here
with some damn lunatic.
Stranded?
That's what I said.
Why, I thought...
I thought you said relief was coming.
If we can
wait out the storm.
The tender is coming!
In '75,
Ol' Striker were marooned here
for seven long months, he was.
The storm died
on the mainland,
but here, the waters
were too rageful
neither to launch
nor land.
You're just tryin'
to scare me.
Look at ye. Pretendin'.
But ye well know yer lot.
Dig!
Dig, says I!
Dig!
Dig!
There she lies.
Rations.
The worst of us couldn't
fend 'gainst the ship rats
what gnawed
on the soles of our feet.
Their legs withered
and turned gangree'nous,
every shade
of the peacock's tail.
Their gums grew swollen,
the color of bone,
then to rot.
Tarry blood oozed,
teeth droppin' to the deck
with none to hold on to.
"Land ho!" hears I,
but only grass
on that island.
So we et upon the grass.
'And 'twas that scurvy
what left me locked
ever since.
I thought you said
you'd broke it.
Aye?
Your leg.
Catholic nuns
and such like.
You must've misheard.
- I told that dumb bastard...
- Yep.
Them eaves be gonners.
"Give me your cant hook,"
I says to him.
But...
Foreman Winslow,
that goddamned
Canady bastard...
- Winslow?
- ...always callin' me a dog.
A filthy dog.
- I'll show you who's a dog.
- Winslow.
- What about...
- Who, Winslow?
The eaves be fallin'...
- He's always raggin' on me...
- Ragging?
Like you.
Damn fool nonsense.
That's the trouble with ye,
Winslow.
Trouble with you is eatin'
grass without no teeth.
Come now?
Your sea matey's teeth
had falled out.
What are ye gettin' at,
Winslow?
Well, it just seems
powerful hard
to eat grass with no teeth.
'Cause goats
and sheeps and cows...
Well, now, they all
got teeth, don't they?
Y'know how y'eat grass
without yer teeth?
Oblige me.
Ye rip it out
and ye swallow it.
You rip it out
and you swallow it.
- Ye rip it out...
- I don't know 'bout that.
Y'don't?
I don't.
What?
What?
What?
What?
What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
What?
- That's what I mean!
- What?
- That's the trouble with you.
- That's the trouble with ye!
- With you!
- With ye!
No!
No!
I want a steak!
I want a goddamned steak!
I...
If I had a steak...
Oh, boy!
A... A rare,
a bloody steak.
If I... If I had a steak,
I would fuck it.
You don't like me cookin'?
Ugh, don't be
such an old bitch!
You're drunk!
Ye don't know
what ye're talkin'...
How could I possibly like
the horse shit
you fix us for supper?
Ye're drunk,
or ye wouldn't be saying that!
Them tin kitchen
shanty cooks
gave us fried donuts
three times a day
and country ham
bigger than your fist...
Ye're drunk! Ye're drunk!
Ye're drunk!
- I'm drunk?
- You heard me!
- You've been drunk since...
- Damn ye!
Drunk since I first
laid eyes on you.
Ye're fond of me lobster,
ain't ye?
You're drunker
than a Virginy fence.
I seen it.
Ye're fond of me lobster.
Say it.
Say it.
Say it!
I don't have to say nothin'.
Damn ye!
Let Neptune strike ye dead,
Winslow!
Hark!
Hark, Triton, Hark!
Bellow, bid our father,
the sea king,
rise from the depths,
full foul in his fury,
black waves teeming
with salt-foam,
to smother this young mouth
with pungent slime,
to choke ye,
engorging yer organs
till ye turn
blue and bloated
with bilge and brine
and can scream no more.
Only when he,
crowned in cockle shells
with slithering tentacled tail
and steaming beard,
take up his fell,
be-finned arm,
his coral-tined trident
screeches
banshee-like in the tempest
and plunges
right through yer gullet,
bursting ye,
a bulging bladder no more,
but a blasted bloody film now,
a nothing for the Harpies
and the souls of dead sailors
to peck and claw
and feed upon,
only to be lapped up
and swallowed
by the infinite waters
of the dread emperor himself,
forgotten to any man,
to any time,
forgotten to any God or devil,
forgotten even to the sea,
for any stuff
or part of Winslow,
even any scantling
of your soul,
is Winslow no more,
but is now itself the sea.
All right.
Have it your way.
I like your cooking.
Bitch.
Queer way
to wear yer shoes.
Just didn't wanna wake you,
is all.
It's a long night.
And such.
Hmm. The sun is
over the yardarm.
Best find me some winks
afore the day
draws farther on.
Get back to yer duties
or I'll give you
a real keelhauling.
You ain't even human no more.
Workin' apart
from folks so long.
You're only tolerable
when you're drunk.
Get to work, says I!
To work!
♪ ...sassy little
whore, hurrah ♪
♪ Me girls, doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me boy
Doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls
Doodle let me go! ♪
♪ I took her in, I gave her gin
And danced her on the floor! ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls
Doodle let me go! ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me boy
Doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls
Doodle let me go! ♪
Dance!
Dance, Winslow! Dance!
♪ Come all you boys
who wish to hear ♪
♪ How we got up
to the woods last year ♪
♪ Into the sleigh
we jacked our boots ♪
♪ Our teamster pointed
to the big blue spruce ♪
♪ Timmy-ran-tin-ah
Falla-doo-a-dah ♪
♪ Rant-and-roar
and drunk-on-the-way! ♪
♪ Timmy-ran-tin-ah
Falla-doo-a-dah ♪
♪ If but the birds were gin ♪
♪ If but the sun
were a hearty reveler ♪
♪ I might give
someone else me liver ♪
♪ On a Monday morning ♪
♪ My lover, she lies asleep ♪
♪ My lover is warm ♪
♪ And her heart is mellow ♪
♪ I would give
the whole world ♪
♪ Just to share her pillow ♪
♪ On a Monday morning... ♪♪
Aye.
Get off me!
Get off me!
- Thomas.
- Aye.
- It's Thomas.
- Aye.
No, I... I'm Thomas.
I'm Thomas. You're Ephraim.
I lied.
Well, I'll be scuppered.
I'm Thomas. Tommy.
Tommy?
Tommy Winslow.
No. Tom Howard.
What's Winslow?
- It's nothing.
- Nothing?
Can I trust you?
Don't be spilling
any of yer beans to me.
I ain't interested.
No. It wasn't
that way, is all...
I see
what you're fixin' to do.
Git me all liquored up...
Ye're guilty conscience
is ever as tiresome-borin'
as any a guilty conscience.
Worse. Worse.
It was...
It was a drive, see...
It was... It was a log drive,
and he's raggin' on me.
No...
I see what you're doing.
Nothing.
Look, Tom...
Don't be working to twist
words out of my head.
I ain't.
Um, I can't...
I can't do it.
Shut up yer own rag box.
I trust... I trust...
I trust you.
No.
I... I trust you, Tom.
You trust me?
No, I don't
trust you at all.
And I had 'im
handy and helpless.
Alone.
Too far downstream.
And I...
I wanted to do 'im in.
I admit I did.
Seein' the back of his head.
One swipe of the cant hook'd
be all.
Uh... It was...
I... I didn't...
I didn't... I did not.
The day was long as hell
on that drive.
I was lead-tired.
I admit it.
But I saw him slippin',
not me.
We saw the jam comin'.
I stood and he slipped.
He shouted up.
And I... I just stood there.
"Tom, you dog!"
I just stood there,
is all. Just...
Just stood and watched 'im
git swallowed by them logs.
And all I could think
when he was done was,
"I... I could use me
a smoke."
That's it.
So, I packed up
his kit and fixins,
as if they was my own and...
Ephraim Winslow, well, now,
he got a spiffy clean slate.
And Thomas Howard,
well, he don't.
No prospects.
How else am I gonna
find respectable work?
Tom!
Tom!
Why'd
y'spill yer beans, Tommy?
Why'd y'spill yer beans?
Why'd y'spill yer beans?
Don't leave me!
You crazy son-of-a-bitch!
You smashed up the life boat!
Ye're abandoning
yer post!
What're you gonna do?
Send for the lighthouse
establishment?
Certain, says I!
I'll report ye,
I'll bring the inspector up...
I'll report you!
I know what you done!
Who's reportin' who?
Ephraim Winslow?
Or Thomas Howard?
I know what you done.
You killed your second.
Your one-eyed junior man.
I found him.
In the lobster pot.
Said he went mad?
You made him mad
with that charm!
That scrimshaw trinket.
But I broke it, see.
See?
Now I'm free.
I'm free from your designs!
And I got it all figured out,
'cept what's the secret
mischief your keepin'...
Up there!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Tommy.
Last night
you made a confession
'twould make a saint swear.
I don't have
nothin' to confess,
but you, spillin' yer beans,
look what it's done to ye.
It's made ye mad!
And I knew ye was mad
when y'smashed up
that life boat just now,
a-chasing me with an axe,
tryin' to kill Ol' Tom.
Don't ye trust me, Tommy?
Better hand me
the dinner knife ye pocketed.
Y'aint safe with it.
That's a good lad.
Them's government property.
Deducted from yer pay.
Look at yer shiverin'.
Ye're so mad,
y'know not up from down.
How long have we been
on this rock?
Five weeks?
Two days?
Where are we?
Help me to recollect,
who are you again, Tommy?
I'm probably a figment
of your imagination.
This rock is a figment
of yer imagination, too.
Ye're probably wand'rin'
through a grove of tag alders,
up north in Canady,
like a frostbitten maniac
talkin' to yerself,
knee-deep in snow.
I could use me a smoke.
We're outta drink.
Ooh!
Monkey pump!
This place is a sty.
Mornin' to you too.
I wish I could
go for a walk.
Be my guest.
You'll get drowned.
Fiery pit!
Ain't there no justice
left in this world?
Thankee.
What's wrong with yer hand?
The other one.
Ye hear o' tetanus?
- Tet-a-nus?
- Yeah.
It started as a sliver of a cut,
is all...
I said I heard of it.
...from the forestaysail
when we shoved off...
- Don't you ever shut up?
- ...but come a fortnight,
- the bosun was a-shakin'.
- Stop.
His jaw locked tighter
than an anchor...
Shut your gum, goddamn it!
I can't hear no more!
What were it
ye accused me of?
Y'already told me
y'had me figgerd.
I'm tired
of your damned-fool yarns
and your Cap'n Ahab horseshit.
You sound like
a goddamned parody.
Givin' and nagging orders
like a spinster schoolmarm,
and all the while
turning this station
- to the Devil's own rum hole.
- Ye're makin' a fool of yerself.
Well, it's all horseshit,
your leg, and your sea life,
all of it!
And if I hear
one more word of horseshit
coming out of your foul,
rotten tooth,
- smelly old mouth...
- Ye...
Shut up your gum, goddamn it!
I ain't finished yet!
You think you're so goddamned
high and mighty
just 'cause you're a
goddamned lighthouse keeper?
Well, you ain't a captain
of no ship and you never was!
You ain't no general,
you ain't no copper,
you ain't the president,
and you ain't my father!
And I'm sick of you
actin' like you is!
I'm sick of your laughing,
your snoring,
and your goddamned farts.
Your goddamned...
Goddamn your farts!
You smell like piss,
you smell like jism,
like rotten dick,
like curdled foreskin,
like hot onions fucked
a farmyard shit-house.
And I'm sick of your smell.
I'm sick of it!
I'm sick of it,
you goddamned drunk.
You goddamned, no-account,
son-of-a-bitch-bastard liar!
That's what you are!
You're a goddamned,
drunken, horse-shitting,
short, shit liar.
A liar!
Ye have a way with words,
Tommy.
Damn you!
Ye're relieved
of yer duties.
No need to tell me,
old timer.
"Assistant slept late."
"Work below standard."
"Attitude hostile."
"Assistant missing."
"Given to habitual self-abuse
in the supply shed."
"Drunk on duty!"
"Assault!"
"Theft!"
"Recommend severance
without pay."
Severance without pay?
You trying to ruin me?
I'm a hard worker.
I am. I work as hard
as any man.
- Ye lie, Thomas.
- Stop it!
Ye lie to yerself,
but y'ain't have the sauce to see it.
Please...
Just let me into the light,
old man.
I've learned so much
from you.
Just let me show you.
Another chance.
Forgive and forget, I says.
Just let me
into that lantern, is all.
Don't make me beg...
Or I'll beg.
I'll beg if that's
what you want. I'll beg.
Please!
Please! Please! Please!
Stand down.
You selfish bastard!
Keepin' it all to yourself.
You left your old lady,
your children, for what?
For what?
Look at ye, handsome lad,
with eyes bright as a lady.
Come to this rock
playin' the tough.
Ye make me laugh
with yer false grum.
Ye pretended to some mystery
in yer quietudes,
but there ain't no mystery.
Ye're an open book.
A picture, says I.
A painted actress
screaming in the footlights,
a bitch what wants
to be coveted
for nothin' but being born,
cryin' bout the silver spoon
what should've been yers.
Now look at ye cryin'.
Boo! Boo!
What you gonna do?
Will ye kill me?
Will ye?
Will y'kill me
like y'done that gull?
- I didn't...
- Liar!
Y'murdering dog!
Twas ye what changed
the wind on us.
Twas ye what damned us, dog.
Twas ye!
Will y'do what y'wish
y'done to Ol' Winslow?
Will ye best me then?
For Winslow were right!
Thomas, ye're a dog!
A filthy dog! A dog!
Ye're killing me!
Bark.
Bark, boy.
Bark, laddy.
Bark.
Woof.
Ain't ye never been
to sea before?
Bark, I says. Bark!
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
Bark, laddy!
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
- Now, there's a good boy.
- Ruff!
There's a good dog.
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
Ruff!
Now roll over.
Come on.
Come on.
Git!
Get up here.
Good boy. Good boy.
Now you git in there,
where you belong.
You do as I say, dog.
There's my good lad.
Ye wish to see
what's in the lantern?
So did me last assistant.
Shut up, old dog!
Polish your brasswork.
O what Protean forms swim up
from men's minds,
and melt in
hot Promethean plunder,
scorching eyes,
with divine shames
and horror...
And casting them down
to Davy Jones.
The others, still blind,
yet in it see
all the divine graces
and to Fiddler's Green sent,
where no man is suffered
to want or toil,
but is...
Ancient...
Mutable and unchanging
as the she who girdles
'round the globe.
Them's truth.
You'll be punished.
The light belongs to me!
Should pale death
with treble dread
make the ocean caves
our bed,
God who hear'st
the surges roll,
deign to save
the suppliant soul.
♪ It's of a merchant's daughter
brought up in Callao ♪
♪ Hurrah me yaller girls
doodle let me go ♪
♪ She took me in
the parlour and said ♪
♪ Won't you be my boy? ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go,
me girls, doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Oh all around the sofa, lads,
and wasn't it a go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ And about the hour of twelve
o'clock her own man he came home ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ As I was out a-walking
down by the riverside ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ It was e'er I seen this pretty
girl a-swimming in the tide ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ As I was out a-walking all in
the bright moonlight ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ It was e'er I seen this girl a-swimming
and arise, it shone so bright ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ I wish I was in Madame
Gashay's down in Callao ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Where the girls hold on your
bobstay and they never let it go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ We'll cast a line 'round Madame
Gashay's and take the house in tow ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ We'll tow it back to Liverpool
all the way from Callao ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪♪
Should pale death
with treble dread
make the ocean caves
our bed,
God who hear'st
the surges roll,
deign to save
our suppliant soul.
To four weeks!
No, sir. Thank you.
It's bad luck to leave
a toast unfinished, lad.
Oh, meanin'...
Meanin' no disrespect.
Man what don't drink,
best have his reasons.
Uh... Ain't it...
I... I understood it's
against regulations, sir.
Did you?
I did, sir. From, uh...
From them's manual.
Didn't picture you
a readin' man.
Well, I ain't trying
for trouble.
Then you'll do
as I say.
That's in yer book too.
To four weeks.
Aye. Aye. The cistern
needs a-lookin' to.
One of yer duties, lad.
Or didn't y'read
yerself about it?
You'll clean the brass
and the clockwork,
and you'll tidy up
the quarters after.
And there's well more
to be mended outside.
D'y'hear me, lad?
Yes, sir.
Aye, sir!
Aye, sir.
When the fog clears,
you'll work through
the dog watch.
Doggin' it? I was 'specting
I'd git up to see the lantern.
I tend the light.
Well, the rules is
alternatin' shifts.
It's the mid watch
that's to dread, lad.
My watch,
night to morning.
Some new junior man
I'm fixed with.
See to yer duties.
The light is mine.
Son of a bitch!
To ye, me beauty.
Shingles.
Tend to 'em
after the cistern.
And the lamp,
she needs oil.
Aye, sir.
Go!
Move it.
You don't go in there!
- Oil, sir.
- Tired? Use this next time.
Save you
a helluva lot of trouble.
Catch yer breath, lad.
I said,
catch yer breath, lad.
Then bring that drum
back down the ladderwell
where y'found it.
'Less ye're fixin' to burn
the whole light down.
Then see to the rest
of yer duties.
Ye're behindhand already.
- Aye, sir.
- Ye're too slow. You a dullard?
No, sir.
Fooled me.
Should pale death
with treble dread
make the ocean caves
our bed,
God who hear'st
the surges roll,
deign to save
the suppliant soul.
Still tastes o'the head?
Ah, find some chirk
in ye, lad.
Now is the time
for gab and chatter.
Y'best be enjoying it.
Come a fortnight and the
brace of us'll be wantin'
to be ever silent
as the tomb.
I ain't much for talkin'.
Reckon ye're the first?
No, sir. I don't.
Y'ain't.
Y'ain't.
The Chicopee,
a fine-un she were.
Clean-built
and trig-lookin'!
None more fleet in '64
than she.
We were on the breaks...
A mutiny, it were...
And why, ask ye? Why?
What's the terrible part of
a sailor's life, ask ye, lad?
'Tis when the work stops when
ye're twixt wind and water.
Doldrums. Doldrums.
Eviler than the Devil.
Boredom makes men
to villains,
and the water
goes quick, lad, vanished.
The only med'cine is drink.
Keeps them sailors happy,
keeps 'em agreeable,
keeps 'em calm,
keeps 'em...
Stupid.
Curse me if there ain't
an old tar spirit
somewheres in ye, lad.
Out with it, lad.
Uh...
What, uh... What made
your last keeper leave?
Him? Me second?
Mmm-hmm.
Died.
Went mad, he did.
Ravin' about sirens, merfolk,
bad omens and the like.
In the end,
weren't no more sense left
in him than an hen's tooth.
He believed that there was
some enchantment in the light.
He notioned that St. Elmo
had cast
his very fire into it.
Salvation, said he.
Tall tales.
I seen ye
sparrin' with a gull.
Best leave 'em be.
Bad luck to kill a sea bird.
More tall tales.
Bad luck to kill a sea bird!
Pay me no mind, lad.
None.
Fix us up some coffee.
Long night ahead.
Drop o'coffee
will do us good.
You've been neglecting
yer duties, lad!
Don't deny it!
What do you call that?
- Sir?
- What?
I... I mopped and swept
twice over, sir.
Ye lyin' dog.
- I swept 'em.
- 'Tis begrimed and bedabbled.
Unwiped, unwashed,
and distained.
You git some kinda peart
outta molestin' me?
Come now?
I already said...
How dare ye contradict me,
y'dog.
Now look here,
I ain't never intended
to be no housewife
nor slave
in takin' this job.
It ain't right!
These lodgings is
more ramshackle
than any shanty boy's camp
I ever seen.
The Queen of England's
own fancy housekeeper
couldn't even done no better
than what I done,
'cause I tell you,
I scrubbed
this here place
twice over, sir...
And I say y'did nothin'
o'the sort.
And I say,
y'swab it again,
and y'swab it
proper-like this time,
and you'll be swabbin' it
10 times more after that.
And if I tells ye
to pull up and apart
every floorboard and clapboard
of this here house
and scour 'em down
with yer bare,
bleedin' knuckles,
you'll do it!
And if I tells ye to yank out
every single nail
from every moulderin'
nail-hole
and suck off
every spec of rust
till all them nails sparkle
like a sperm whale's pecker,
and then carpenter
the whole light station
back together from scrap,
and then do it all over again,
you'll do it!
And by God and by Golly,
you'll do it smilin', lad,
'cause you'll like it.
You'll like it
'cause I says you will!
Contradict me again,
and I'll dock yer wages.
D'ye hear me, lad?
Aye, sir.
Ah.
Swab, dog.
Swab!
Keep 'em steady, lad.
Aye, sir.
Whitewash
must be even, lad.
Bright! Shinin'!
Like a silver
whorehouse token.
Give them sailors
a proper daymark.
They're not going
to see it in a goddamn storm!
Keep your temper now, lad.
'Tis fine work.
And ye're makin' high marks
in me logbook.
Them's gospel!
I'll drop y'down
a few feet.
Easy!
Never been in better hands.
Easy!
Quit yer flailing, lad.
- I ain't!
- Y'are!
- Keep still!
- I am!
Git! Git! Git! Git!
Thank ye, lad.
Winslow.
Ephraim Winslow.
These last two weeks, I'd...
I'd like it
if you'd call me by my name.
Listen to ye,
giving orders, lad.
- Winslow.
- All right, all right.
Suits me just as fine,
Ephraim Winslow.
So, what brung such a one
as ye to this damned rock?
Such as what?
Pretty as a picture.
Only joshing, lad,
only josh...
- Winslow.
- Winslow.
What brung ye...
...to this rock,
Ephraim Winslow?
What were yer work afore?
- Timber.
- Timber?
Big timber. Up north.
Canada ways.
- Hudson Bay outfit?
- The same.
True what they say?
"Forest as far
as the eye can see"?
Yessir. Spruce, tamarack,
white pine.
"Bush," them folk
up there call it.
Had enough of trees,
that it, then?
Yes, sir.
Can't say I blame ye.
I hearn tell
about that life.
Hard goin'.
Workin' one man harder
than two hosses, they say.
No thankee.
The sea, she's the only
situation wantin' fer me.
Miss it?
Ain't nothing
what can touch it.
But I can't...
be draggin'
me old stump about.
Nay. Not worth the trouble...
Now I'm a wickie
and a wickie I is.
And I'm damn-well wedded
to this here light,
and she's been a finer,
truer, quieter wife
than any alive-blooded woman.
Y'ever married?
Thirteen Christmases at sea...
Little 'uns at home.
She never forgave it.
'Tis fer the better.
Since we're getting
too friendly, Ephraim Winslow,
tell me, what's a timber man
want with being a wickie?
Not enough quiet
for ye up north?
Sawdust itching yer nethers?
Foreman found ye
too high-tempered
for carrying an axe?
Like you said, I just had
enough of trees, I guess.
Since I left Dad,
I done every kind of work
that can pay a man.
Some I ain't near proud of.
- Drifter, eh?
- No, just...
Can't find a post
I can take a real shine to,
so I keep movin' along.
And I ain't the kind
to look back
- at what's behind him, see.
- On the run?
Now look here,
ain't nothin' wrong with a man
startin' fresh, startin' new,
just lookin'
to earn a living...
No...
Just like any man,
just wanna settle down
quiet-like with some earnings.
I read someplace that
a man could earn 630...
I read $1,000 a year
if he tends a light
far off shore.
The further away,
the more he earns.
I read that, and hell,
I says, work.
Save my earnings.
Sometime soon
I'll raise my own roof,
somewheres up country,
with no one to tell me
"what for".
And that's all.
Same old, borin' story, eh?
Well, you asked.
Say, why is it bad luck
to kill a gull?
In 'em's the souls of sailors
what met their maker.
You a prayin' man, Winslow?
Not as often as I might.
But I'm God-fearin',
if that's what you're askin'.
Shit.
Wind's changed.
- Oh. Good riddance.
- Oh, don't be so darn foolish.
It's the calm
afore the storm, Winslow.
She were a gentle
westerly wind ye're cursin'.
Only feels roughly
'cause you don't know
nothin' about nothin',
and there ain't no trees
on this here rock
like your Hudson Bay bush.
Nor'Easterly wind'll
come soon
ablowin' like Gabriel's horn.
Best board up
them signal house winders.
Aye, sir.
'Twill keep steady
afore the tender
comes in the morn,
I 'spect...
but there's dirty weather
knockin' about.
Somethin' stirring in ye?
Ye're gettin' off this rock
tomorry. Winslow.
Don't start grudgen me now.
No, sir.
Keeping secrets, are ye?
I could just use a hand
with them boards, is all.
Pull, Winslow!
Look at 'em!
Better than fin fishin'!
Ain't no crime
to take a snort now.
A clear night.
And our last afore relief.
I ain't never know'd
an inspector
what wouldn't turn
a blind eye.
And I won't
take no for an answer.
Should pale death
and treble dread...
Ah, hell!
To... To relief!
And how!
Oh!
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound ♪
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound! ♪
♪ When we're
arrived at Bedford docks ♪
♪ Them bloomers
comin' out in flocks ♪
♪ Them pretty girls
They all did say ♪
♪ Here comes Jack
with his nine-month pay ♪
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound ♪
♪ Hurrah,
we're homeward bound! ♪
...and a pretty lass,
she were,
takin' off her bonnet,
but as I says,
I'd broke me leg,
and banged myself all up.
It was
to a nuns' hospital...
All of them nuns
were Catholics, I tell ye.
But I never went
to Salem since
without hoping
that I should see her,
for beddin' down
wer'nt the same since.
You feel shame
when you lie with a woman?
I ain't 'shamed
of nothing!
Well, I'll say it...
I might even miss ye,
Ephraim Winslow.
Ye're fastly a true blue wickie
in the making, you is.
Thought one night
you was bound to
split me skull in twain,
but ye're a good-un.
Why, you'll be workin'
the lamp in no time.
Why haven't I?
What?
The light.
I'm the keeper of this station, lad.
Some other station,
y'can tend the light.
The manual says...
My log is the only book
on this rock...
I'm the keeper
of the light, lad,
I never let
no man touch her...
Don't concern yerself
with the beacon, lad!
Mine!
Have it your way.
Say, I never...
I don't...
I don't know your name.
Wake.
Your Christian name.
Thomas.
- Thomas?
- Aye, Thomas Wake.
Call me Tom.
Well...
To my friend Tom.
And to gittin' off
this goddamned rock!
What'r y'splittin'
yer lungs fer?
You smell o' shit.
Best swab this mess
afore the tender comes.
Do as ye're told, lad!
The quarters are dire.
Aye... Aye, sir.
Aye.
They didn't come.
The damp's
got to the provisions!
What?
The damp's
got to the provisions!
The damp's
got to the foodstuffs.
The salt cod is out.
- Out?
- Blasted.
Gone to rot.
- Praised be.
- Will you hear me now?
- Hear what?
- That we best be rationing.
- Rationing?
- You insubordinate again?
It's only been one day.
Devil's tail.
Look, maybe the tender
did come.
We just missed her, is all.
I can take the dory out.
Weeks, Winslow. Weeks.
What?
What do you mean, what?
- Weeks?
- Weeks. Aye, weeks.
We slept in. Dead drunk.
It's been weeks ago
since we missed her, Winslow.
And I've been askin' ye
to ration fer weeks now, too,
but you've kept barking
at me like a mad dog
sayin' you can
"take the dory out."
- Now, look here.
- Oh, no.
Don't be losing
yer head now.
- This ain't funny.
- No, it ain't.
And I ain't want to be
stranded here
with some damn lunatic.
Stranded?
That's what I said.
Why, I thought...
I thought you said relief was coming.
If we can
wait out the storm.
The tender is coming!
In '75,
Ol' Striker were marooned here
for seven long months, he was.
The storm died
on the mainland,
but here, the waters
were too rageful
neither to launch
nor land.
You're just tryin'
to scare me.
Look at ye. Pretendin'.
But ye well know yer lot.
Dig!
Dig, says I!
Dig!
Dig!
There she lies.
Rations.
The worst of us couldn't
fend 'gainst the ship rats
what gnawed
on the soles of our feet.
Their legs withered
and turned gangree'nous,
every shade
of the peacock's tail.
Their gums grew swollen,
the color of bone,
then to rot.
Tarry blood oozed,
teeth droppin' to the deck
with none to hold on to.
"Land ho!" hears I,
but only grass
on that island.
So we et upon the grass.
'And 'twas that scurvy
what left me locked
ever since.
I thought you said
you'd broke it.
Aye?
Your leg.
Catholic nuns
and such like.
You must've misheard.
- I told that dumb bastard...
- Yep.
Them eaves be gonners.
"Give me your cant hook,"
I says to him.
But...
Foreman Winslow,
that goddamned
Canady bastard...
- Winslow?
- ...always callin' me a dog.
A filthy dog.
- I'll show you who's a dog.
- Winslow.
- What about...
- Who, Winslow?
The eaves be fallin'...
- He's always raggin' on me...
- Ragging?
Like you.
Damn fool nonsense.
That's the trouble with ye,
Winslow.
Trouble with you is eatin'
grass without no teeth.
Come now?
Your sea matey's teeth
had falled out.
What are ye gettin' at,
Winslow?
Well, it just seems
powerful hard
to eat grass with no teeth.
'Cause goats
and sheeps and cows...
Well, now, they all
got teeth, don't they?
Y'know how y'eat grass
without yer teeth?
Oblige me.
Ye rip it out
and ye swallow it.
You rip it out
and you swallow it.
- Ye rip it out...
- I don't know 'bout that.
Y'don't?
I don't.
What?
What?
What?
What?
What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
What?
- That's what I mean!
- What?
- That's the trouble with you.
- That's the trouble with ye!
- With you!
- With ye!
No!
No!
I want a steak!
I want a goddamned steak!
I...
If I had a steak...
Oh, boy!
A... A rare,
a bloody steak.
If I... If I had a steak,
I would fuck it.
You don't like me cookin'?
Ugh, don't be
such an old bitch!
You're drunk!
Ye don't know
what ye're talkin'...
How could I possibly like
the horse shit
you fix us for supper?
Ye're drunk,
or ye wouldn't be saying that!
Them tin kitchen
shanty cooks
gave us fried donuts
three times a day
and country ham
bigger than your fist...
Ye're drunk! Ye're drunk!
Ye're drunk!
- I'm drunk?
- You heard me!
- You've been drunk since...
- Damn ye!
Drunk since I first
laid eyes on you.
Ye're fond of me lobster,
ain't ye?
You're drunker
than a Virginy fence.
I seen it.
Ye're fond of me lobster.
Say it.
Say it.
Say it!
I don't have to say nothin'.
Damn ye!
Let Neptune strike ye dead,
Winslow!
Hark!
Hark, Triton, Hark!
Bellow, bid our father,
the sea king,
rise from the depths,
full foul in his fury,
black waves teeming
with salt-foam,
to smother this young mouth
with pungent slime,
to choke ye,
engorging yer organs
till ye turn
blue and bloated
with bilge and brine
and can scream no more.
Only when he,
crowned in cockle shells
with slithering tentacled tail
and steaming beard,
take up his fell,
be-finned arm,
his coral-tined trident
screeches
banshee-like in the tempest
and plunges
right through yer gullet,
bursting ye,
a bulging bladder no more,
but a blasted bloody film now,
a nothing for the Harpies
and the souls of dead sailors
to peck and claw
and feed upon,
only to be lapped up
and swallowed
by the infinite waters
of the dread emperor himself,
forgotten to any man,
to any time,
forgotten to any God or devil,
forgotten even to the sea,
for any stuff
or part of Winslow,
even any scantling
of your soul,
is Winslow no more,
but is now itself the sea.
All right.
Have it your way.
I like your cooking.
Bitch.
Queer way
to wear yer shoes.
Just didn't wanna wake you,
is all.
It's a long night.
And such.
Hmm. The sun is
over the yardarm.
Best find me some winks
afore the day
draws farther on.
Get back to yer duties
or I'll give you
a real keelhauling.
You ain't even human no more.
Workin' apart
from folks so long.
You're only tolerable
when you're drunk.
Get to work, says I!
To work!
♪ ...sassy little
whore, hurrah ♪
♪ Me girls, doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me boy
Doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls
Doodle let me go! ♪
♪ I took her in, I gave her gin
And danced her on the floor! ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls
Doodle let me go! ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me boy
Doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls
Doodle let me go! ♪
Dance!
Dance, Winslow! Dance!
♪ Come all you boys
who wish to hear ♪
♪ How we got up
to the woods last year ♪
♪ Into the sleigh
we jacked our boots ♪
♪ Our teamster pointed
to the big blue spruce ♪
♪ Timmy-ran-tin-ah
Falla-doo-a-dah ♪
♪ Rant-and-roar
and drunk-on-the-way! ♪
♪ Timmy-ran-tin-ah
Falla-doo-a-dah ♪
♪ If but the birds were gin ♪
♪ If but the sun
were a hearty reveler ♪
♪ I might give
someone else me liver ♪
♪ On a Monday morning ♪
♪ My lover, she lies asleep ♪
♪ My lover is warm ♪
♪ And her heart is mellow ♪
♪ I would give
the whole world ♪
♪ Just to share her pillow ♪
♪ On a Monday morning... ♪♪
Aye.
Get off me!
Get off me!
- Thomas.
- Aye.
- It's Thomas.
- Aye.
No, I... I'm Thomas.
I'm Thomas. You're Ephraim.
I lied.
Well, I'll be scuppered.
I'm Thomas. Tommy.
Tommy?
Tommy Winslow.
No. Tom Howard.
What's Winslow?
- It's nothing.
- Nothing?
Can I trust you?
Don't be spilling
any of yer beans to me.
I ain't interested.
No. It wasn't
that way, is all...
I see
what you're fixin' to do.
Git me all liquored up...
Ye're guilty conscience
is ever as tiresome-borin'
as any a guilty conscience.
Worse. Worse.
It was...
It was a drive, see...
It was... It was a log drive,
and he's raggin' on me.
No...
I see what you're doing.
Nothing.
Look, Tom...
Don't be working to twist
words out of my head.
I ain't.
Um, I can't...
I can't do it.
Shut up yer own rag box.
I trust... I trust...
I trust you.
No.
I... I trust you, Tom.
You trust me?
No, I don't
trust you at all.
And I had 'im
handy and helpless.
Alone.
Too far downstream.
And I...
I wanted to do 'im in.
I admit I did.
Seein' the back of his head.
One swipe of the cant hook'd
be all.
Uh... It was...
I... I didn't...
I didn't... I did not.
The day was long as hell
on that drive.
I was lead-tired.
I admit it.
But I saw him slippin',
not me.
We saw the jam comin'.
I stood and he slipped.
He shouted up.
And I... I just stood there.
"Tom, you dog!"
I just stood there,
is all. Just...
Just stood and watched 'im
git swallowed by them logs.
And all I could think
when he was done was,
"I... I could use me
a smoke."
That's it.
So, I packed up
his kit and fixins,
as if they was my own and...
Ephraim Winslow, well, now,
he got a spiffy clean slate.
And Thomas Howard,
well, he don't.
No prospects.
How else am I gonna
find respectable work?
Tom!
Tom!
Why'd
y'spill yer beans, Tommy?
Why'd y'spill yer beans?
Why'd y'spill yer beans?
Don't leave me!
You crazy son-of-a-bitch!
You smashed up the life boat!
Ye're abandoning
yer post!
What're you gonna do?
Send for the lighthouse
establishment?
Certain, says I!
I'll report ye,
I'll bring the inspector up...
I'll report you!
I know what you done!
Who's reportin' who?
Ephraim Winslow?
Or Thomas Howard?
I know what you done.
You killed your second.
Your one-eyed junior man.
I found him.
In the lobster pot.
Said he went mad?
You made him mad
with that charm!
That scrimshaw trinket.
But I broke it, see.
See?
Now I'm free.
I'm free from your designs!
And I got it all figured out,
'cept what's the secret
mischief your keepin'...
Up there!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Tommy.
Last night
you made a confession
'twould make a saint swear.
I don't have
nothin' to confess,
but you, spillin' yer beans,
look what it's done to ye.
It's made ye mad!
And I knew ye was mad
when y'smashed up
that life boat just now,
a-chasing me with an axe,
tryin' to kill Ol' Tom.
Don't ye trust me, Tommy?
Better hand me
the dinner knife ye pocketed.
Y'aint safe with it.
That's a good lad.
Them's government property.
Deducted from yer pay.
Look at yer shiverin'.
Ye're so mad,
y'know not up from down.
How long have we been
on this rock?
Five weeks?
Two days?
Where are we?
Help me to recollect,
who are you again, Tommy?
I'm probably a figment
of your imagination.
This rock is a figment
of yer imagination, too.
Ye're probably wand'rin'
through a grove of tag alders,
up north in Canady,
like a frostbitten maniac
talkin' to yerself,
knee-deep in snow.
I could use me a smoke.
We're outta drink.
Ooh!
Monkey pump!
This place is a sty.
Mornin' to you too.
I wish I could
go for a walk.
Be my guest.
You'll get drowned.
Fiery pit!
Ain't there no justice
left in this world?
Thankee.
What's wrong with yer hand?
The other one.
Ye hear o' tetanus?
- Tet-a-nus?
- Yeah.
It started as a sliver of a cut,
is all...
I said I heard of it.
...from the forestaysail
when we shoved off...
- Don't you ever shut up?
- ...but come a fortnight,
- the bosun was a-shakin'.
- Stop.
His jaw locked tighter
than an anchor...
Shut your gum, goddamn it!
I can't hear no more!
What were it
ye accused me of?
Y'already told me
y'had me figgerd.
I'm tired
of your damned-fool yarns
and your Cap'n Ahab horseshit.
You sound like
a goddamned parody.
Givin' and nagging orders
like a spinster schoolmarm,
and all the while
turning this station
- to the Devil's own rum hole.
- Ye're makin' a fool of yerself.
Well, it's all horseshit,
your leg, and your sea life,
all of it!
And if I hear
one more word of horseshit
coming out of your foul,
rotten tooth,
- smelly old mouth...
- Ye...
Shut up your gum, goddamn it!
I ain't finished yet!
You think you're so goddamned
high and mighty
just 'cause you're a
goddamned lighthouse keeper?
Well, you ain't a captain
of no ship and you never was!
You ain't no general,
you ain't no copper,
you ain't the president,
and you ain't my father!
And I'm sick of you
actin' like you is!
I'm sick of your laughing,
your snoring,
and your goddamned farts.
Your goddamned...
Goddamn your farts!
You smell like piss,
you smell like jism,
like rotten dick,
like curdled foreskin,
like hot onions fucked
a farmyard shit-house.
And I'm sick of your smell.
I'm sick of it!
I'm sick of it,
you goddamned drunk.
You goddamned, no-account,
son-of-a-bitch-bastard liar!
That's what you are!
You're a goddamned,
drunken, horse-shitting,
short, shit liar.
A liar!
Ye have a way with words,
Tommy.
Damn you!
Ye're relieved
of yer duties.
No need to tell me,
old timer.
"Assistant slept late."
"Work below standard."
"Attitude hostile."
"Assistant missing."
"Given to habitual self-abuse
in the supply shed."
"Drunk on duty!"
"Assault!"
"Theft!"
"Recommend severance
without pay."
Severance without pay?
You trying to ruin me?
I'm a hard worker.
I am. I work as hard
as any man.
- Ye lie, Thomas.
- Stop it!
Ye lie to yerself,
but y'ain't have the sauce to see it.
Please...
Just let me into the light,
old man.
I've learned so much
from you.
Just let me show you.
Another chance.
Forgive and forget, I says.
Just let me
into that lantern, is all.
Don't make me beg...
Or I'll beg.
I'll beg if that's
what you want. I'll beg.
Please!
Please! Please! Please!
Stand down.
You selfish bastard!
Keepin' it all to yourself.
You left your old lady,
your children, for what?
For what?
Look at ye, handsome lad,
with eyes bright as a lady.
Come to this rock
playin' the tough.
Ye make me laugh
with yer false grum.
Ye pretended to some mystery
in yer quietudes,
but there ain't no mystery.
Ye're an open book.
A picture, says I.
A painted actress
screaming in the footlights,
a bitch what wants
to be coveted
for nothin' but being born,
cryin' bout the silver spoon
what should've been yers.
Now look at ye cryin'.
Boo! Boo!
What you gonna do?
Will ye kill me?
Will ye?
Will y'kill me
like y'done that gull?
- I didn't...
- Liar!
Y'murdering dog!
Twas ye what changed
the wind on us.
Twas ye what damned us, dog.
Twas ye!
Will y'do what y'wish
y'done to Ol' Winslow?
Will ye best me then?
For Winslow were right!
Thomas, ye're a dog!
A filthy dog! A dog!
Ye're killing me!
Bark.
Bark, boy.
Bark, laddy.
Bark.
Woof.
Ain't ye never been
to sea before?
Bark, I says. Bark!
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
Bark, laddy!
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
- Now, there's a good boy.
- Ruff!
There's a good dog.
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
Ruff!
Now roll over.
Come on.
Come on.
Git!
Get up here.
Good boy. Good boy.
Now you git in there,
where you belong.
You do as I say, dog.
There's my good lad.
Ye wish to see
what's in the lantern?
So did me last assistant.
Shut up, old dog!
Polish your brasswork.
O what Protean forms swim up
from men's minds,
and melt in
hot Promethean plunder,
scorching eyes,
with divine shames
and horror...
And casting them down
to Davy Jones.
The others, still blind,
yet in it see
all the divine graces
and to Fiddler's Green sent,
where no man is suffered
to want or toil,
but is...
Ancient...
Mutable and unchanging
as the she who girdles
'round the globe.
Them's truth.
You'll be punished.
The light belongs to me!
Should pale death
with treble dread
make the ocean caves
our bed,
God who hear'st
the surges roll,
deign to save
the suppliant soul.
♪ It's of a merchant's daughter
brought up in Callao ♪
♪ Hurrah me yaller girls
doodle let me go ♪
♪ She took me in
the parlour and said ♪
♪ Won't you be my boy? ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go,
me girls, doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Oh all around the sofa, lads,
and wasn't it a go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ And about the hour of twelve
o'clock her own man he came home ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ As I was out a-walking
down by the riverside ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ It was e'er I seen this pretty
girl a-swimming in the tide ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ As I was out a-walking all in
the bright moonlight ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ It was e'er I seen this girl a-swimming
and arise, it shone so bright ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ I wish I was in Madame
Gashay's down in Callao ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Where the girls hold on your
bobstay and they never let it go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ We'll cast a line 'round Madame
Gashay's and take the house in tow ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ We'll tow it back to Liverpool
all the way from Callao ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Doodle let me go, me girls,
doodle let me go ♪
♪ Hurrah, me yaller girls,
doodle let me go ♪♪