Mutiny on the Bounty

Portsmouth, December, 1787.

I looked upon the vessel

that was to take me to the Island of Tahiti.

A destination so far from England

that one couldn't go farther

without starting to come home.

And the length of the journey was equaled

by the importance of its mission.

What could be more vital

than to find and cultivate

a nourishing new food

that cost nothing to grow?

A blessing for the poor,

the hungry of the world.

It was a mission close to my heart.

And it was I who had been chosen

from amongst

all the gardeners in England.

Oh, beg pardon.

Can you tell me if this boat is the Bounty?

- Boat, did you say?

- Yes.

- A boat! It's a ship, you landlubber.

- Hey, what kind of a seaman's this?

- He's a peddler.

- You selling something, chum?

I'm not a peddler. I'm a gardener.

Assistant Botanist at

the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew.

You know Kew Gardens, of course.

Kew's outside London.

You lost your way, mate.

Well, I haven't lost my way if this boat,

I beg your pardon,

if this ship is the Bounty.

Aye, it's the Bounty, all right.

Then, perhaps one of you gentlemen

could tell me where I sign on?

I wonder what a gardener's

doing onboard, huh?

Gonna plant roses

in me hammock, are you?

Good thing, too, the way you smell.

Hold on, hold on. Look. Empty pots.

I know. We're going to Tahiti

to fill them with something, right?

Well, one usually fills empty pots

with something.

- What'd you got here? Little telescope?

- Be careful, please.

These are scientific documents.

Agronomy records.

- They're what?

- Agronomy records.

They're sketches, really.

- Sketches?

- Sketches of breadfruit.

- Breadfruit?

- Breadfruit?

You mean, where we're going,

bread grows on trees?

Bread trees.

That's daft enough for a shipload, eh?

There's nothing daft about breadfruit.

It is a very real food. A staple, like wheat.

- Here.

- Goofy-looking weed.

It's funny that nobody's

ever heard of this before, then.

No one ever heard of the potato

until Sir Francis Drake

brought it from South America.

It altered European economy.

Breadfruit may alter it again.

I wonder what it tastes like.

The West Indies Company

plans to feed it to the slaves in Jamaica

no matter what it tastes like.

But then, if it becomes popular,

they'll feed it to the world.

Gentlemen, we're about to embark

on a very momentous journey.

Personally, I'm proud to be part of it.

Now, where do I sign on?

I'll show you. Come along with me.

Breadfruit? Did you ever hear

of that? A breadfruit?

Now come on, love, you got me money.

What more do you want?

- But when do you get paid?

- Now, come on, love. Get off the ship.

Hey, Scratch.

Sign on me mate here, will you?

Make your mark right there.

Captain coming aboard!

He was master of the Resolution

under Captain Cook.

- What's he like?

- A hard one.

- I sailed under him.

- But he walks like a sailor, anyway.

- Mr. Fryer.

- Captain, sir.

- How is the crew shaping?

- A prime lot, I'd say, sir.

- And all volunteers.

- Good.

I'd like my chest brought aboard,

Mr. Fryer.

If you have a sober hand

who can be trusted not to desert.

At your service, sir.

Mills is a good man, sir.

Remain by my cabin.

I'll have other errands.

Aye, aye, sir.

Come on, give me a hand, mate.

You're not backward

in pushing yourself forward, are you?

You keep your pork-nose where it belongs

and give me a hand

with the Captain's gear.

Well, don't be touchy, mate.

Got a long voyage ahead, you know.

That's true. There it is.

Always speak up

for the easy tasks in port,

to be spared the difficult ones at sea.

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