This is almost a day behind us.
Well, who are they?
Americans? Brits? Italians?
It doesn't even say.
Well, I think we can assume|they're friendly, Mr. Loomis.
Besides, it doesn't appear|to be a suggestion, does it?
What the hell?
Might get a Silver Star|out of this patrol yet.
Just have Coors plot it out.
Gunners mate standing by, sir.
Stow the weapons.|They're British.
...You can tell that from here?|...It's the sail.
The krauts use white on their|lifeboats. The Brits use red.
Don't they teach you that|in OCS, ensign?
Afraid not, but I can recite|the submariners' motto in Latin.
Radar contact... starboard|beam, seven miles out, sir.
God damn it!
What if they see us?
Well, they're pouring on|the coal for somebody.
All ahead... emergency.|Rudder to midship.
Crew to battle stations.
All ahead... emergency.|Rudder to midship.
All crew to battle stations.
All right,|do this at flank speed!
I want you to grab|what's breathing on that boat
and you leave|everything else behind!
Stand by to board survivors.
I got him! I got him!
Wounded coming down.
Next man, let's go.
Come on!
There's a warship approaching,|guys.
Let's move! Move!|I ntroductions later!
Ow! Ow! I'm going, okay?!
Next man. Next m...
What have we here?
Let's pull the plug.
...Periscope depth.
Periscope depth,|make your depth 65 feet.
Make depth 6-5 feet.
Bleed air in the boat.
Bleed air in the boat.
All hatches indicate closed.
All vents indicate open.
Pressure in the boat.
Pressure in the boat.
It's a two-stacker...
about 3,000 tons.
It's not a friendly.
Possible Z-class.
If it is, rear recs,|no side throwers,
four 5-inch guns,|grapple hooks.
Fast screws, Mr. Brice.
30 knots or better.
2-5-0 feet.
Make it 2-5-0 feet.
...2-5-0 feet.|...Hard left rudder.
Hard left rudder.
Live to fight another day.
Smart move.
Three survivors... Brits...|and get this...
one's a woman.
Three Brits... one's a skirt.
Three limeys... one's a female.
Hey.
Three Brits... one female.
Guys, listen up.
We've got three survivors...|all Brits.
One's a woman, eh?
Hey, look lively.|Woman onboard.
Hey, Hoag, spread the news...|three tea bags,
and I hear one's, uh,|bazooma.
We got ourselves a filly?
Ohh!
Sweet holy Jesus.
You're gonna wanna hear this.
Hey, boys... here's the news.
Front page...
we got three redcoats,|and guess what.
One of them's a bleeder.
Aw, great.|That's all this boat needs...
another piece of rotten luck.
Yeah, well,|if it means you guys
finally wash the butt squirt|outta your shorts,
I'm all for it.
So what exactly happened|to your shi...
Um... your ship?
Hospital ship.
We were attacked two nights ago.
Two nights?
I'm... I'm sorry.|My brain's a bit foggy.
Although I'm reasonably sure|my name's Claire Page.
The rest of the details|will emerge, I'm sure.
That's just a whale.
It's okay, really.
The sounds down here|still get to me, too.
Make a hole.|Comin' through. Make a hole.
Yow.|Mind your pretty toes.
Best-Iookin' bad luck|I ever saw.
Doesn't look good, sir.
Why don't you get|those clothes off of him
and see if you can get|a better look at the wounds?
I can dress the wounds.
Other than that, I think|it's best to leave him be.
Okay. All right.
Maybe I didn't make myself|clear.
I saw it.
It crossed the moon's reflection|just before the explosion.
Yes, it was dark, but I...|I did see it.
It wasn't a mine.
I-It was a U-boat.
What class?
Type 7?
Was it an older boat|or one of their newer ones?
Um...
Like this?|Clean at the bow?
...You know...|...No net cutter?
It was just a couple of seconds.|I really couldn't say for...
So you were... you were on|lookout that night, mister...
Kingsley...|second mate, merchant navy.
Uh, no.
I was on the starboard deck|grabbing a gasper.
Having a cigarette.
And how many aboard your ship?
About 300 patients.
At least that many.
Out of North Africa.
Yeah, plus over 70 hands crew.
So, um...
You said they fired|only one torpedo?
O'Dell...
you better tell sonar we've got|an enemy sub in the area.
Yes, sir.|Just let me finish...
Now. Do it now.
Yes, sir.
I'm... I'm sorry that|we couldn't save more. I...
Now this... the third member|of your party, he's...
One of my patients.
Well, under normal|circumstances,
I'd be able to drop you|at the nearest port in England,
but, uh, it's a 300-mile|detour for us.
So I'm sorry.
It seems as though|we're stuck with each other.
Oh, uh, last thing.
Just try not to fraternize|with the men.
Most of the men are fine,
but some of them get a little|strange about having...
"Strange"|as in "superstitious"?
As in "strange. "
"Suddenly, his heart rolled over|backwards in his chest,
"and he saw this huge,|wretched thing before him.
"I nstantly, its mouth widened
"into a terrible|and hungry menace.
Now the malediction|uttered a deep-throated sound. "
...Malediction?|...Look it up.
"And its breath stank gloriously
"of rotted carp|and matted gorilla skins.
"Now... it slouched toward him...
"not fast, but slowly...
"slowly...
so very slowly. "
Silly boy.|Just the bulkhead shifting.
What'd you think it was?
The malediction?
Wahh!
What exactly bothers you,|O'Dell?
Well, you have a ship
that's sinking slow enough|to get a few lifeboats off,
but the submarine|only fires one torpedo.
I mean,|that's not textbook tactics.
You fire upon the target|until the target is sunk.
So it was their last torpedo.
Yeah, but...|why not use a deck gun?
O'Dell, isn't this|your first patrol?
My second.
Yeah.
And your first was|a little shakedown run
off the coast of Florida
in one of those old school|boats, right?
I'm just wondering if the story|didn't seem a little off.
I wouldn't worry about it,|champ.
They got here somehow.
...You want coffee?|...Sure.
I take it black.
Tell Broadway|make sure it's hot.
Try to sleep.
I know you're in pain,|but you must try.
Please.
Be quiet.
Sonar contact.
220 turns per minute,|Mr. Brice.
Maybe the Z-class.
Maybe we didn't shake him|after all.
...Full stop!|...Full stop!
Boat stands at full stop.
Mr. Coors...
...flood negative.|...Flood negative.
O'Dell, get on the thermograph.|Find us some cold.
Conn, 5-degree gradient|at 2-7-0 feet.
Cold water deflects sound waves|just in case they decide to...
...Aah!
Splashes!
...Splashes!|...Splashes!
God damn it!|Keep it steady!
Scared you, didn't it, kid?
Damage reports.
Well, maybe that Z-class|just happened to be there.
And maybe the phonograph|wasn't secured.
But God damn.
And maybe someone doesn't|want us to make it home.
Miss Page claims she was in|the control room the whole time.
Yeah, that's right.
...So what about the other guy?|...Kingsley?
Hmph!|If that's his name.
Where was he|when it all happened?
I'm not sure.|Maybe he stepped out.
Stepped out... or slipped out?
You know, maybe we're spending|more time watching that broad
than watching our backs.
Who, me?|I've talked to her twice.
I heard you were|bird-dogging her, O'Dell.
Been running your mouth, ensign,|about boat matters?
Gentlemen, gentlemen.
As for the record player|going off,
well, yeah, that's strange.
But I don't think it calls for|a lynching party.
I think we should all|just take a deep breath.
...Conn, Brice.
Where'd you find it?
Make a hole!
Lieutenant, I was all set|to toss these pants,
then I noticed this, sir.
And these came from...
The half-dead guy, sir.
Must've been him|done that record player.
Wake him up.
I-I'm sorry.|I'm not quite sure...
Wake the German up.
Hello, "mein Kapitan".
Jesus.
It was me.|It was my idea.
I was the one who told him|not to speak.
She had him under our noses|the whole goddamn time.
Aah!
...Wait!|...I'll tell you.
I'll tell you everything.|His name is Ben Archerlift.
He's a downed aviator.|He's a patient of mine.
He's a prisoner of war,|and under the Geneva Convention,
he's entitled to|humane treatment!
He has a wife and family.
He wants to get home|just like you or me.
Everything will be all right.
You should've told me.
Maybe I was afraid you'd do|exactly what you've just done!
You should've told me|no matter what,
'cause your little secret nearly|cost every man here his life.
You had no cause.
Mr. O'Dell, the woman|is confined to quarters
for the duration|of the patrol.
If she asks to use the toilet,|you are to bring her a bucket.
Stumbo, clean up|that fuckin' mess.
Fucking A-1, sir.
I'll be in my berth...
sleeping.
I just wanted to save one.
Just...
one of my patients.
Aaaahh!
Look,|it's happened twice now.
I don't think|that's an accident.
Somebody is up to something.
Well, just so you know, I've|walked in the wardroom before
and found a steward listening|to the record player
while he was cleaning up.
...Now, I wouldn't blame him...|...Unless he's...
...Hey, Champ.|...Hey.
How are those hydrogen levels?
It's almost 3% .
Chief says we need to vent|before long.
All right. We'll ride|surface tonight... 2100.
Is there something else?
Yeah.
I just can't believe it's one|of our own hands doing this.
I've been on the boat|seven weeks now,
and I know most of the guys.
I just don't believe|it's one of them.
...Who are you suggesting?|...I'm not suggesting anybody.
You know,|it's been a rough patrol.
Some men do strange things|under duress.
So just keep your eyes open.
Yes, sir.
Bright kid, O'Dell.
Get off.
Get off before it's too late.
Down here.
I-I was awake.
I wasn't dreaming.|I know I was awake.
Don't let them get to you.
I heard a voice. I heard it.
It's nothing.
Just ignore them, all right?|Claire, are you listening?
...I thought he spoke to me.|...Claire...
It wasn't his voice,|but he spoke to me.
Claire!
...Is this your idea of a joke?|...Claire, don't.
Have you got nothing better|to do at a time of war
than play games|with dead bodies?!
You are on thin ice...|real thin ice.
Wrap it back up...
for the last time.
We'll dump him|when we surface.
A bit more respect for the dead|might be in order, Mr. Brice...
from everybody|onboard this ship.
This is a boat|you're a guest on, not a ship.
Get off|before it's too late!
Hoag, are you pushing him up|or feeling him up?
I've got a dead kraut dick in my|face, and you're complaining?
Come on, Stumbo!
You need to turn around.
Oh, nice try.
Hoag told you, right?
Turn around.
So many left behind.
I want...
God damn it!
What the hell|are you doing, Stumbo?
...Stumbo.
I'm telling you, there's some|bad hoodoo on this boat.
That might've worked on|the female, Stumbo, but not me.
Look, fuck the brillo pad.|This ain't about her.
He talked to me.
Oh, wow.|...The dead guy?
...The dead kraut talked to me.|...Yeah, right.
Wow.
Did he talk to you|in English or German?
I guess it was English.
Case closed.
Prepare to surface.|Prepare to surface.
Be ready on all four engines.|Stand by to charge batteries.
Let's go. Come on.
Move it, move it.
Okay, okay.
The chief's gonna|skin us alive.
I don't care what he said.
I've just got to get out|of that room.
Well...
make it quick, all right?
Switching to night lights.
Coming up to periscope depth.
Lookouts, gun crews... stand by.
"1420 hours:
"Took periscope photos|of German sub-pent at Lorient
"before moving on|to areas north.
"O. M. I. Should be happy|with results.
"1550 hours: Saw multiple|shipping targets,
"but passed on all.
"Men getting itchy|to come home...
With at least one kill. "
"0840 hours:|Picked up three survivors
"from the Fort James British|merchantman and hospital ship.
Reportedly victims|of a German U-boat. "
Some tall grass out there.
Yeah, it's good skies,|though.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, we should be able to hit|a couple of sites,
affix our position.
Well done.
The sextant in my cabin.
Very well.
Is it possible|to see the...
Uh, talk to me later.
Mr. Coors, are we going to be|surfacing soon,
take on some fresh air?
...We're trying to.|...Any idea when that might be?
What are you doing here?
I-I wasn't comfortable|in my cabin,
what with the blood|on the walls.
You shouldn't be|in the skipper's cabin
without permission.
Well, I'll gladly ask him.
Mr. Brice is the skipper,|isn't he?
Lieutenant Brice is|the current C. O. Of the boat.
You need his permission|to be anywhere
besides your assigned quarters.
Now...
Sorry.
Motormac Jenkins|to the battery room.
Motormac Jenkins|to the battery room.
Screws kicking over,|starboard beam!
Emergency dive!
Emergency dive! Dive!|Flood negative!
Give me a 25-degree angle|on the bow plane!
25 on the bow plane, sir!
Used to feel like|a "big" ocean, didn't it?
We are running out of places|to hide.
Crow, give me one sounding|for depth on "their" ping.
...Got that?|...Yes, sir.
...3...
...2...
...1.
Not much there, sir.
Bring in the soundheads.|Let's use it all.
Aah!
What was that?
Don't ask me.
Ask him.
...What was that?|...Miss Page, once again,
I must remind you,|do not leave your station.
What did we hit just now?!
The bottom.
Well, how long can we afford|to stay down here?
I thought you said we needed|to surface to take on...
Attention all hands...
off-duty personnel are expected|to be in the racks.
And the smoking lamp is out.
I guess we're gonna find out.
Seaweed.
Might be a fishing net.
It's caught up,|slaps against the hull.
You hear... you hear a lot|of strange things at depth.
I mean, I can't even|identify 'em all.
So...
What am I gonna do with you?
I'm sorry.
I regret not telling you|about Schillings...
because... well,|l-I should have realized
that a submarine isn't|a good place to keep secrets.
Is it?
We'd been stalking|a German sub tender for a while.
We finally got our shot in,
cracked its back|with one torpedo.
We went topside to survey the|damage, and the ship was gone.
But there's a lot of debris|in the water,
and Captain Winters decides|to go down and haul some in.
It was the middle|of the Atlantic.
He wants to do|some souvenir hunting,
get something for his... I don't|know... his mantle piece.
I try to talk him out of it,|and... but he's al...
Anyway, he... the boat hit|an underwater obstruction,
and he fell... he hit his head.
And he was... he went under|before we could get to him.
I heard you were asking.
So he drowned.
We already radioed Connecticut|with news of the accident.
You know, we really,|really got off
on the wrong foot, and I...
So j-just feel free to move|about the forward sections of...
Sorry, sir...|humidity builds up,
drips out the power bus.
I'll get right on it.
So... would you reconsider|England...
finding a port there?
I'm sorry.
Sorry for what?
Uh, she was...|asking about Winters.
What did you tell her?
The story.
Well, it's coming up|astern, but...
I don't know what that is.
Hooks!|They're using their hooks!
Mr. Loomis, what do we do?
What are your orders,|Mr. Brice?
Mr. Loomis,|the helm is waiting!
The men are waiting|for your orders, Mr. Brice!
Aah!
Get out! Get out!
Everybody, out!|Move it out!
Go! Go! Go!|Everybody, out!
...Come on!|...Get out!
Get out! Get out!
Get down there, Harry!|Move!
Get out.
O'Dell, make sure|everybody's out!
...Everybody's out, sir!|...Then close the goddamn hatch!
...Blow safety!|...Blow safety!
What heading, sir?!
Any goddamn heading!|Just get us out of here!
You'll do better|at the board of inquiry.
We're sloughing oil,|and it's bad.
I don't know exactly|where it is,
but it's somewhere between the|pressure hull and the sea hull.
And if it's leaking here|or here,
then it's dumping oil|under the main ballast,
which means that every time|we surface or dive...
We leave an oil slick.
Well, that's how...|that's how he's been riding us.
This boat "is" cursed.
Figure of speech.
So how do we fix it?
Well, there's only one way...|from the outside in.
They'll be lining up|for this job.
Okay, so let's make ready|some dive gear.
All right.
O'Dell, pick two volunteers...
Yes, sir.
...besides yourself.
You want someone|to free-dive outside with you
into the cold, black water,|make our way below the boat,
Iocate the floodboards,
and slither in between|the two hulls?
That's right.|Find the leak and fix it.
...At night.|...Hang on.
We're still submerged.
That means the main tanks are|full of water.
This is in the dark, Dell.
Yeah, well, chief thinks|that with the tower flooded,
it gives the boat enough weight|to stay down
while we blow some air|into the main tank.
Oh, well if that's|what the chief thinks.
So... you're gonna go out there.|You're gonna go outside.
Yes, that's right.
With all these... happenings|happening.
Look alive.
All right.
Who are the lucky bastards?
Fuck, no.
Set.
I asked him to go.|Buddy system.
...Ooh!|...Oh, shit!
You and me, O'Dell.|Forward.
You guys take aft.
Shit!
2330 hours.
To confirm sinking|of German ship,
four officers go topside...
Commander Winters, myself,|Lieutenant Loomis,
and Lieutenant|J. G. Stephen Coors.
The night we lost|Old Man Winters...
Odd time to bring that up.
It's an odd place.
So, how'd he bang his head|before he went over?
So, how'd he bang his head|before he went over?
You heard.
I heard that the boat|hit something,
but I never felt it down below.
What?!
I didn't say anything.
I know,|but what were you thinking?
Well...
I used to hear about|these dock workers.
They would get welded up|in these kind of places.
And then... they were|never heard from again.
Wally?
You are so fucking|out-of-bounds with that shit!
Let's keep moving.
Forward trim tank,|it looks like.
Better drive some wedges.
Yeah.
So anything I say...|stays here...
this side of the hull.
Yeah. Yeah.
There were survivors|from the sinking.
...Brice and Loomis even, uh...
even tried to fish a few out,
but... Winters had other ideas,
and, uh...
he ordered a gunnery party|topside.
Well, three of us had a problem
with machine-gunning|those men right in the water,
I mean,|even if they were German.
There was an argument.
It got kind of heated.
Well, why didn't you tell us?!
I guess, uh...
I guess we were trying|to protect him...
felt Winters was|a pretty good C. O.,
even if he could be a tough|son of a bitch sometimes.
For his reputation...|you know, his family's sake.
Yeah, yeah, okay, but...
I still don't see|how he hit his head.
Slippery metal.
Bad footing.
Accidents happen, right?
Where the hell did|that come from?!
Near or aft?
Crew, sound off!
Get them out of there!|Get them out!!
O'Dell!
Sound off, O'Dell!
...Oh!|...Sir!
Fuck, was that you?
The light!
We gotta get him out.
Come on, guys.
...How are we gonna...
Did you see that?
What happened, guys?! Come on!|What happened out there?!
...Talk to me.|...Don't touch me.
Did you fix it?
Which one of you boys|was screaming out there?
...Are we a man down?|...Don't touch me!
...Are we a man down?!|...Shut up!
Who was screaming?!
Come on, grow some dicks|and shut up!
Now, where is Mr. O...
Coors... where's Coors?
You tell me that's him.
That's gotta be Coors.|He's still alive, right?
Sir...
that is the one person|I can guarantee it's not.
Don't touch me.|Don't touch me!
...Don't! Don't!|...Hey, easy.
Easy, Stumbo.|Easy, easy.
...Easy, easy.|...Was that a "B"...
dash, dot, dot, dot?
I didn't hear a "B."
Dot, dash..."A"...|thought I heard an "A."
No, that's not morse.
It's just some shit|got caught up on the bow planes.
Now it's smacking up against...
"C"...you hear a "C"?
Dash, dot, dash, dot...|definitely a "C."
It's hull sounds.
You guys are getting lathered up|about hull sounds.
Now, would somebody please tell|us what happened to Mr. Coors?
"Back"...B-A-C-K.
He's back.
And where'd you get|the "K" from?
Dash, dot, dash...|while you were talking.
Hey, champ, you can stay|the hell out of this.
...And the rest of you...|...Enough, already, enough!
I n the wardroom, 5 minutes.
Keep your mouths shut|till we debrief.
Did you finish the job?
Yes, sir, absolutely.
Right, Wally? Wally?
Oh, yeah, I'm finished.
All right, so, look,|if the weather is good,
we surface tonight,|we recharge the batteries.
We pour on the diesel,|keep pushing for the barn.
Our barn?
Mr. Brice, southern English|port's gonna be
more than two days away.
Two days away, Mr. Brice!
Kingsley here is a navigational|officer. He knows the way.
I know all the ports,|the depths,
where the submarine nets are,|the mine fields.
Yeah, and have|the R. A. F. Bomb us
because they mistake us|for a hostile boat... okay.
There are safety corridors|that we can use...
Considered and rejected,|thank you.
Mr. Brice, both our periscopes|are down, our sonar is gone.
We are blind and nearly deaf.
Our men are in a bad way,
and now we've lost|two of our senior officers.
Welcome to the war, O'Dell.
This has nothing to do|with the war.
Just how much longer|can we not say
what we're all thinking?
No one wants to be the first?
Fine. Allow me.
This submarine is haun...
When I want your opinion,|Miss Page, I'll give it to you.
I am not one of your men that|you can just dismiss, Mr. Brice!
I don't believe|we're alone down here,
and I know some of you think|the same way.
Unless we find|a safe harbor soon,
we're all going to end up like|your friend Mr. Coors.
The loss of Lieutenant Coors|is unfortunate.
It fails to affect our plans.
Attention all hands...|it's daylight now.
I expect to surface... at 1900,
recharge the batteries,
and proceed on base course|back to Connecticut.
...That is all.
You're 10 seconds away|from finding out
what the penalty is|for mutiny at sea,
'cause that's how long|it's gonna take me
to open the armory|and reload that sidearm.
Now, do either of you|care to say anything else
that might further agitate|this crew or me?
Mr. O'Dell?
Yeah, I didn't think so.
We just knock the nose around|a little bit,
we're back on base,|so make it 2-8-5.
Make it 2-8-5 true.
2-8-5 true, sir.
Heading home, boys.|Sound good?
...Yes, sir.|...Sounds good, sir.
Hey, you're oversteering.|Mind your rudder.
She's getting|some resistance, sir.
Chief of boat to control.|Chief of boat to control room.
All right, belay that.|Belay that.
I said belay that!
...Oh!|...Oh!
Rudder at midship, sir.
Um, some...|kind of hydraulic failure.
Oh, Christ.
Must have overshot|our heading by...
170 degrees.
Oh, good. A gun.|Yeah, I needed a gun.
I'll put that|with the prizes.
Okay, I got feathers, crosses,|and strip-show icons...
Rudder malfunction.
When we tried to shut down|the props, no dice.
Wouldn't respond.
We're on a runaway boat,|fellas.
Now, can any of you top that?
Well...|I had a strange thought.
Take a number.
Yeah, but this one's|real creep-show stuff.
What if, when we took on|that kraut ship...
...we didn't sink 'em?
What if... they sank us?
Oh, that's a good twist.
I don't get it.
Might explain how that|dead kraut talked to Stumbo.
I don't get it.
And the controls...|that they froze up.
No, they... they rusted up.
That's because we're at the...|the bottom of the ocean.
Flooded out.
Of course, I'm not sure what all|that pounding was about.
Those are rescue divers...|pounding on the hull.
Only it's too late.
Shit, I get it.
Hydrogen from the batteries...
Hydrogen from the batteries...
CO2, ozone|from the electrical shorts...
that's what we're breathing|right now.
Like those deep-sea divers|that don't get enough oxygen...
head starts playing tricks|on 'em.
We got mechanical problems,|that's all, okay?
We always got|mechanical problems.
Now, please...
will you pinch this shit off?
...Unless...|...Oh...
It happened|during the depth charging.
Remember that one?
Rolled right down our deck.
So exactly how far|from England are we?
Can I ask why you're asking?
No.
Right.
Uh, what's our heading?
0-9-5.
Right. Uh...
May I ask why you're asking?
Just in case the boat|can't make it back home...
for whatever reason.
What do you suggest|we do about it, chief?
Come on.|Enough of the guessing games.
...Pressure blinding the shafts.|...No, I don't think that's it.
Just lay it out for us, chief.
What about the I. M. O. Pumps?
I. M. O. Pumps check out.|I don't think it's that either.
The rudder has a dedicated line|from here to the stern.
If we tap into there|somewhere aft,
I think we should regain|our steering.
But where are you gonna tap in?
That's the thing.
The line goes right through|the battery room.
That's a little dicey, isn't it,|without venting first?
Just threading up|new hydraulics, no welding.
Well, where are we at, anyway?
13 percent down.
...13 percent hydrogen?|...Keep your voice down.
Look, I don't know any other|way to regain control...
Fuck if I know.
All right, but you gotta|make sure you're sealed off,
'cause we don't want a repeat|of the "Hindenburg" here.
Let's keep this quiet.
As if it's a bloody|mechanical problem.
Fore door sealed.
After door sealed.
What's happened here, hmm?
What is this?
Go to the galley.|Get a cup of coffee.
Oh, no, I'm fine, sir.|Really.
You're falling asleep, champ.
...I'll watch your bubble.|...Yes, sir.
Lieutenant, a word?
Lieutenant, a word?
...Not now.|...No, Mr. Loomis.
We need to speak right now.
That is a whale, right?
What else would it be?
Come on.
Let's get that rudder working.
Now, maybe this is|just a coincidence.
I know Lieutenant Coors|wasn't too sure
about the last star fix.
But it sure seems like|we're going
right back to where|we sunk that German ship.
Clear the compartment.
Everybody, give us 5 minutes.
Go!
All right.|We're almost all set.
Just repressurizing the line,
see if we can't put the brakes|on this little joyride.
I'll reset the bus.
Shit!
Hey, guys,|we lost power up here.
Shut that goddamn door
before I shut it|with your goddamn face!
What are you saying, O'Dell?
It's not a coincidence?
Somebody put us on this course?
I'm just asking a question.
Let me ask one.
Where were "you"|when the rudder went over?
Huh?
This course heads back|to England,
and I've noticed you've had|a hard-on for anything English.
So where were you, O'Dell?
Back of the boat... messing with|the rudder assembly?
Or did you get some motormac...
That is the craziest thing|I have ever heard!
Not as crazy|as what you're saying!
I'm tired|of this hoodoo horseshit!
It is "not"|what you think it is!
It is not even remotely|"fucking" possible!
Okay?!
After room,|get the chief to pick up.
Hoag!
Maneuvering room, respond.
Anybody, contact control.
...Mr. Loomis, where's our crew?
It's warm.
Loomis...
I-I, um...
Go ahead.
I'm gonna change up my scrub.
Keep looking.|Gotta be somebody.
All right.|All right, chief.
...We found you.|...Don't...
Can you feel anything...
your legs, your toes,|anything at all?
...Don't...|...Come on.
try to stop me.
You're gonna pull through.
Especially...
...you.
Time to go.|Battery's still working.
What happened?
What happened?
Sparks... the hydrogen.
Everybody... everybody's...
Loomis...
Loomis?
...Sir! Sir!|...Get out of my way!
...Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.|...Get the fuck off me!
Loomis!
...Loom...
He's here.
Did he even have...
air?
Not a bloody foot.
Come on, Stumbo.|Keep trying.
We gotta release that air.|Come on. One more.
Come on, Stumbo.
It's like it's welded.
All I know is what Coors|told me.
And apparently...
Captain Winters wanted to shoot|the German survivors.
Mr. Brice and Mr. Loomis
and Mr.... Mr. Coors...|wanted to help.
Apparently Captain Winters|lost the argument.
Well, that's interesting.
But it's not what I heard...|from Mr. Brice.
Lieutenant?
Are you sure he came back here?
Looking for me?
I, uh...
Just... reporting, sir,|that the heating is down.
And, uh...|the bow's levers are stuck.
Stumbo's working on it|right now.
And that we show|90 pounds of compressed air
still left in the system,|and I... wasn't sure
if you wanted to use that|when we tried to surface
or use it now|so we can breathe.
Shinola.
Sir?
Running out of shinola, too.
We also wanted to ask you|about Captain Winters...
whether there was anything|you could tell us
about what happened that night
that might help us|to understand...
Don't pretend you don't know.
Just don't pretend anymore.
Well, wasn't that awkward?
Maybe Hoag was right.|Maybe we already bought it.
If not the depth charge,|then... the hydrogen.
If not the hydrogen, then...
maybe the cold.
And if not that,
then we got a big evil spirit|batting cleanup.
...Jesus Christ.|...Come on, Stumbo.
There should only be|so many ways a guy can die.
Listen to me.|CO2 hangs low.
It starts from the floor up,|and I need you right now...
...No, no.|...to get up on your feet.
...Maybe I just need to...|...Stumbo. Stumbo!
...Let me try.|...We already bought it.
Come on, Stumbo. Head up.
...Over and over...|...I need you to sit up.
...over and over again.|...Look at me.
Now look at me.|Look at me.
...Good.
Feel that?
Well, you're alive, then,|aren't you?
You fuckin'...
...Stumbo...|...Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Hey!
...Take it easy! Hey!|...Relax, man!
Stumbo!
Isn't there a winch or a pulley
or maybe a come-along|in a bowsman's locker?
...Yeah.|...Can't we use that?
You know what he's|talking about, Stumbo?
...Yeah.|...Well, come on.
Come... we need it. Come on.|Show... show me, Stumbo.
We've got to get it.|Okay, come on. Come on.
So, tell me|why three officers
would conspire to kill|their captain
and cover it up.
That's what you're thinking,|isn't it?
What if I am?
I can see I'm not the only one.
Loomis was up|for a major citation.
And Brice was ready|for his own command.
He was from a naval family.|He went to Annapolis.
Coors had this beautiful girl|waiting for him back in Boston
that he was always|talking about, Claire.
These guys had everything|to live for.
By that reasoning...|they had everything to lose.
Are we missing somebody?
Wallace...
Wallace?
...No!
...No! No!|...Shh!
...No-o-o!|...It's just us.
It's just... us.
...Now, listen...
We're running out of plays|in the playbook.
Do you have... any idea|why the boat is going back
or how we can get control|of it?
I've been checking the|literature on this subject.
And the thing we know|about maledictions is...
Maledictions?
Look it up.
Maledictions don't issue|from Heaven or Hell
but from some unresolved place|in between.
I n fact, there's a great...
Wallace...|we're running out of air.
Suffice to say...
the malediction needs|satisfaction
in order to escape|its netherworld.
And if you had to guess...
what would satisfy|our malediction?
Old Man Winters never|got a chance
to go down with the ship,|did he?
Wallace, leave yours here.
We gotta dig up|some more light.
Okay, listen, uh...
Just... Just promise me|you'll stay on your feet, okay?
"Don't pretend..."
"Don't pretend|you don't... know. "
2230 hours: Sight target
believed to be|German sub tender.
Winters orders flank speed|to close target
and gain a firing angle.
2315: Loomis checks|target profile against I. D. Iog,
matching it to target, and|I personally verify the match.
2320: Single torpedo fired|from number-4 tube.
Heard the strike, followed by|collapsing bulkheads.
2330 hours: To confirm sinking|of German ship,
four officers go topside...
Commander Winters,|myself, Lieutenant Loomis,
and Lieutenant|J. G. Stephen Coors.
"Many bodies in the water. "
"Ship burning on the horizon. "
What are you doing in here?
Go.
A German ship...
of the type|Brice said you sunk.
My ship...|the Fort James hospital ship.
So what you're saying is...
that the submarine|Kingsley saw...
the one|he thought was German...
Wasn't.
So it was an accident?
Not when he left us|in the water to die.
Not when he heard the cries|for help in English.
You actually believe
that Captain Winters would|just leave...
Help! Help me!
No.
Captain Winters wanted to|pick up the survivors.
That means...
Help!
Who mis-I. D. 'd the ship?
Who had everything to lose?
Either the battery has|finally crapped out, or...
Or maybe we're here.
Come on.|Let's get some air going.
...All right.
Come on, everybody, pull!|Come on!
Come on! Pull!
Fuck me. This is it.
...Oh!|...God, I hate being right.
...Pull!
Kingsley.
Oh, Jesus, God,|we're going down.
It's going up.
It's going up!
...Okay. All right.
Wallace, see if you can work the|radar, get a sweep of the area.
Stumbo, see if you can crack|this hatch. Use a crowbar.
Drain the tower.|See if we can get out that way.
If not, we gotta go out|the forward...
Oh, God.
Hey, fellas...|we have contact.
On SJ radar...|4, 000 yards, starboard beam.
It's the same one?|It's the same kraut ship?
...Are we being choosy?|...All right.
Uh, Wallace, raise the antenna.
Issue a radio challenge|on the Ariel-6.
Get the ship I. D. 'd|as of right now.
Well done, Mr. O'Dell.
But I'm feeling|much better now.
You were saying?
We have a contact.
That may be an opportunity.
An opportunity?
To abandon ship.
Well, I don't know that|that's a friendly out there.
Well, neither do I.
But it seems better to scuttle|now and take our chances
with a surface vessel,|even if it is German.
Scuttle and tell Connecticut|what?
We sunk one of their|finest fleet submarines
because we lost a few men|carrying out our mission?
A few men, sir?
Contact at 2,500 yards.
Might cross the stern.
We'll wait... right here.
Wallace... no matter what|Mr. Brice says,
I want you to go|to the radio shack
and establish a voice contact|with that ship immediately.
You are not the skipper|of this ship, Mr. O'Dell!
And neither are you, sir!
Rain squall.
With a little luck, they|won't see us in all this...
...weather.
Here!
Please!
We're over here!
Please!
Help, please!
Help!
On your starboard side!
It's really not safe up here,|Miss Page.
We're going below now!
Aah!
Bury everybody|and bury the truth...
is that it, Brice?!
Like this.
This is how I go.
If that's your plan...
get on with it,|you fucking coward!
Stumbo, man the ports.|Get ready to scuttle this boat!
Just leave!
They'll blame it on a U-boat!
Just get out of here!|They'll never fuckin' know!
Any more advice for me, champ?
500 yards and closing!
Looks like we're definitely|gonna lose some paint
on this one, sir!
I kept looking for some way|just...
just to... take it back,
to make it end right...
some way without|dishonoring Winters.
I was gonna wear this uniform|back to port.
Now...
What should I do, Miss Page?
You give me the light|so that I can signal for help.
I don't...
God, I don't know!
I just figured out|why he didn't kill me, too.
He didn't have to.
Aah!
Hey! Over here!
Come back!
Come back.
Well, you weren't the first|woman that ever slapped me,
and you won't be the last.
But that was a good thing|you done for me back there.
Well done, Miss Page.
Well done, Mr. Stumbo.
Dead but not buried, I see.
Pardon me?
Your vessel.
So, what would you say|if you had to explain it all?
Does seem rather unlikely now,|doesn't it?
Have you thought that...
that maybe|when Captain Winters died,
he just... died, and that was it?
And the rest...
And the rest...
I don't know.
You say whatever|you have to say, ensign.
I'll always believe we were|brought back here for a reason.