The Sand Pebbles

- You got orders?

- Yeah.

Check in on the double.

Stay off the streets. There's no liberty.

Right.

- Where's Mitch?

- He died a couple months ago.

- What happened?

- Just didn't wake up one morning.

I was a shipmate of his.

The name's Baxter.

Ex-chief signalman.

I took over.

- Everything?

- Yeah, everything.

Give me a U.B.

Of whiskey.

He was all right though.

They start liberty again?

Nah, transferring

to a new ship, the San Pablo.

You can have my part of that.

Them gunboats are nothing.

- They got engines, ain't they?

- Sure.

Then they ain't nothing.

- You likee me?

- Oh, much like. Oh, the sailor man.

The uniform gets them every time.

We can't threaten these people

into being our friends.

- Exactly.

- Then what's the point?

You can hate the gunboats and what they

represent as much as you like, Jameson...

but you missionaries are only tolerated here

because we have the gunboats.

- I question that.

- The Chinese would run you out otherwise.

They hate you and despise you.

Dare you know that?

I dare love them in return,

and I dare trust God rather than guns.

Yes, but when there are

anti-foreign riots and mobs...

how often have you fled

to the gunboat for protection?

To my shame, twice,

but never again.

- My name is Hamilton.

- Holman.

How do you do?

This is Miss Eckert and Mr. Jameson.

As you may have gathered,

Mr. Jameson is a missionary. Miss Eckert too.

- This is Mr. Outscout.

- How do you do?

British.

Where are you headed?

The San Pablo.

Gunboat.

If I were you, I'd jump overboard

while I still had time.

- Do you know anything about her?

- Uh-uh.

American gunboats in central China

are a painful local joke.

And the most painful

is the San Pablo.

Oh, yeah?

I think she's something

that you chaps inherited from Spain...

after the Spanish-American war.

Well, I missed that one.

They don't let her

on the Yangtze proper.

They keep her up

in some small river.

- You must know it, Jameson. She operates near Changsha.

- Yes, we know her.

Mr. Jameson

dislikes gunboats.

Whatever flag they fly-

English, French, American.

They're symbols of what the great powers

have done to this nation.

"Nation"?

Don't be ridiculous.

It's a patchwork quilt of bandits,

warlords, mobs, rape, loot and chaos.

China will be unable to put

her own house in order...

until she is free of your enslaving

and unequal treaties.

Foreigners

collecting her taxes...

placed in charge of her customs,

postal system.

Foreigners enjoying

immunity from her laws.

Would we tolerate

a Frenchman...

who had committed

a crime in America...

not to be tried

in our courts?

You know Chinese justice:

confessions by torture,

corruption.

Have you seen the executioner

of the warlords walk through the streets?

"Oh... you. Ah, you. "

- You think that's funny?

- Well, you do it kind of funny.

Yes, I know those things happen,

but they're trying.

Responsible Chinese leaders

are trying to put their house in order.

- From the south, the Nationalist Party-

- Mobs.

That's all I see-

mobs that threaten us.

Confusing, isn't it?

And painful.

I bequeath China and her agonies

to you youngsters...

with pity and with the hope

that perhaps...

you can understand what's going on,

can comprehend...

what so many people

are going to have to die for:

the good, the bad...

the innocent.

Excuse me, sir,

but you're talking rot.

Conceivably.

A firm hand- that's what's needed.

That's what you're doing here.

Hey, listen...

I run the engine.

All this other

is just look-see pidgin.

- I beg your pardon?

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