Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Hey, Fletcher Christian. Harami.
Get these things tied down now!
Well, we'll just have to make the best of it. Won't we, sir?
we shall proceed onward to the Great Barrier Reef itself.
At four o'clock we buried Valentine
At least ten times we have touched land.
They can stay, but not you. Take your gifts and go.
Yes.
Who's officer of the watch tonight?
The ship can't stand it!
I'll not have your vile ways brought aboard my ship, sir!
Get in the boat.
You can close your mouth. Or I'll put it back in.
through the Endeavour Straits around the Cape of Good Hope to Jamaica.
They'll hang you.
Yes, in a way, sir.
Stand by, you crew gunners!
Thursday, June 11th.
Land Ho! Land Ho!
Take her. You will have all the men you need. Go now.
Quiet! We will get him in the boat. Set him adrift. Get him dressed!
More, perhaps, than you ultimately found to be acceptable, Mr. Bligh?
- He is my friend. - I know.
Why take breadfruit to Jamaica?
Do you understand me?
I give you my word they will not be harmed.
Fletcher Christian could hardly be called a novice, sir.
It always makes me laugh,
Circumnavigation.
Be brief!
A chance to survive, so he'll come after us again.
Quicker if we strike the one week in a hundred
Well, you didn't wait for me, I hope.
You're a mindless animal, Churchill.
King Tynah. Perhaps I could carry back in return.
But think to yourself, man.
Thank you, sir.
I hadn't expected this from the Horn. Do you think the weather will stay with us?
It was taken from me by a gang of mutineers led by Fletcher Christian.
I don't know. Somewhere the British ships won't find us.
Sit down, damn you! I'll knock you on the head with it.
- Come on, Fryer. Wake up! Get up! - Come on, Fryer!
How could he betray my friendship and kindness to him?
but when men lose their self-restraint they say they're natural.
It's a breadfruit.
- For that I apologize. - Very well.
Fletcher wants you.
Depend upon it, gentlemen.
I know nothing of a dozen.
- Help the man! - Get in the boat, sir.
- Aren't you going to say goodnight to Mr. Christian, Mr. Fryer? - Don't I get a kiss?
We shall be like little pigs in a stye. Shan't we?
I could have passed it off with a laugh and have done less harm.
Oh, dear God.
And the next one, please.
- Come on, man. Quick, quick, quick! - Yeah!
You blackguard! Traitors!
Lieutenant Bligh.
You're in my place, Quintel.
In what capacity?
- Feels you'll never see it again. - Don't say that, sir. It's bad luck.