2

I was a quartermaster and had charge of No. 4 lifeboat.
– Angus Macdonald


• Scene [Opening Credits begin in darkness]:

Bruno Lawrence
in
A Louis Malle Film

THE OPEN BOAT

As the words fade out, it becomes apparent that there is movement in these dark depths, but the audience is uncertain, disoriented. A faint pinging is heard, a swirling. Perhaps we are underwater? Is there a shape, black against the blackness, moving through it? We think there is, but are still straining to make it out when …

EXPLOSION.

ACT I: Wreck


• Scene [Awakening (Friday, November 6, 1942, c. 1 a.m.)]

CLOSE-UP of Angus’s eyes opening out of some fathomless depth. Was the noise only in his dreams? It seems not: there are clanging pumps and sirens, shouting voices, all coming from outside.


WIDE-ANGLE shows his narrow, cramped cabin. There are a few pitiful ornaments: a little china cup, framed photographs. He rolls out of his bunk, starts to huddle on clothes and sea-boots.


Out on deck. Angus comes out from behind a steel bulkhead, and is shown pushing his way through a chaos of people running and shouting.

Voices scream: “Over here!” “Out of the fucking way!” “Diana!”

4

Angus is shouting now, too, has seized someone (a seaman) by the lapels: “Make way there! Get those lashings loose.” He is clearly in some kind of authority, because people, mainly half-dressed civilians, are climbing into the lifeboat, as he points and yells, overseeing the operation.

We see a name painted on the side of the lifeboat: City of Cairo.

“Heave out there, heave out!”

The boat is now being lowered, and Angus takes a moment to look around him.

“Angus, Angus.” Through the confusion of sound and activity, it gradually becomes clear that someone is shouting for him. He looks a little puzzled, as if the voice were coming from elsewhere, some other place or time.

• Scene [Helping Bob (Friday, 6/11, c. 1.10 a.m.)]

Angus re-enters the slipstream, and starts to make his way to starboard, pushing past busy sailors and milling passengers.

He collides with Bob, who shouts, clearly on the edge of panic: “I can’t lower the bloody boat.”

Angus climbs inside the stalled lifeboat to try and clear a rope, which he does (after a couple of tries) with a violent flick of the wrist; then stays there, fending the boat off the side with a boat-hook, as they begin to lower it into the foaming sea.

EXPLOSION.

Splash.

The camera draws us down into the water.

“Angus, Angus.” A voice is echoing in his ears, but now it sounds like a woman’s voice; we cannot tell whether young or old.

• Scene [Swimming (Friday 6/11, c. 1.15 a.m.)]

CLOSE-UP as Angus’s eyes open again. The camera draws back to make it apparent that he is now floating in the sea, supported by his yellow Mae West lifejacket. His lips move. Though clearly dazed, he is trying to say something. It is a name: “Ellen.”

7

It is very dark, and he is surrounded by ghostly shapes. A body floats by, and he clutches at it before seeing the huge gaping wound in the back of the young sailor’s head. He recoils, then pulls at the light-switch on his jacket, but nothing happens.

He is now muttering under his breath: “Got to keep moving. What’s that over there? Bugger me. Better go and see.” He does not seem to be conscious of what he is saying, which is getting more and more disjointed. At times he appears to imagine he is speaking to Ellen. “Ellie, we got to get rid of that cat,” he says. “That’s the third time the little shit’s tripped me coming in the door.”

There is a light swell, but little wind. As he swims on through the darkness, he sees that the largest nearby object is in fact a lifeboat. It is extremely low in the water, half-swamped, but there are still a few people sitting in it. Others are clinging to the ropes and trailing ends of canvas around the sides. Their faces bear an indescribable look of apathy, mixed with dawning shock.

• Scene [Bailing out the boat (Friday 6/11, c. 1.30 a.m.)]

With no help from those on board, Angus flops across the almost submerged gunwale.

“Some of you have got to get out so we can bail her dry,” he says. Nobody moves. “Come on, you’ve got to,” he repeats, more coaxingly.


Insert: [Dark night. Angus is on the far side of a pane of glass, with frost streaking the edges. “Ellie, please,” he is saying. “Let me in. You’ve got to. It’s bloody freezing out here.” His face continues to stare in, registering little hope, but an immense resignation. Is there movement from our side of the window?]


One of the older women says “Come on, children,” and begins to climb clumsily over the side of the boat, assisted by her eldest daughter, and followed by her other two children. The others reluctantly imitate her, including (latterly) the men.

Angus stops one young woman with two babies, and says, “No, that’s enough.” He would clearly like to do something more for the cold and shivering girl, but has to content himself with patting one of the babies on the head. “Good girl, good girl,” he croons. The baby begins to cry.

11

He and the other men start bailing as hard as they can, the water spraying in all directions.

Shot of the other women and children clinging to an upturned oil-drum.

• Scene [“There she goes” (Friday 6/11, c. 1.30 a.m.)]

MEDIUM CLOSE-UP of Angus and another man, Tiny, trying to resuscitate the sodden-looking body of an older man, a passenger. They’re rubbing at his arms ineffectually, and dosing him with little nips of brandy until he coughs and chokes.


WIDE-ANGLE of the boat, now full of miserable-looking people, many of them clearly injured. There’s perhaps a hint of light in the sky as the camera begins to move up from them to show the stricken ship sitting low in the water not far away. Other boats are circling around it like water-beetles.


The City of Cairo is shown silhouetted against the horizon in a succession of near stills, with gradually increasing light providing the time index.

A voice says: “There she goes,” and the ship’s bow lifts up and begins to slide back inexorably into the sea. It is dawn, now, a cold dawn.

35

ACT II: Setting Sail


• Scene [Survivors (Friday 6/11, c. 5.10 a.m.)]

Voices are heard over the darkened, sea-washed screen – “Got him … got him … there” – there is a sense of upheaval and movement upwards as the light begins to break through water, and we see the lifeboat loom up large above us. Angus and Tiny are leaning over the side, with the boat-hook propped between them. Their outstretched hands are hoisting us out of the sea, we feel.

Now we are dangling over the side, as they continue to heave and rest, heave and rest. We can see the crowded deck, the bundled-up sails and provisions, and – directly below us – the face of Bob, with splinted-up back and bandaged hands, now mercifully sunk into fitful sleep.

The proximity seems too extreme, somehow, and we are just beginning to say to ourselves: “No, watch out,” when a last heave topples us up over the side and crashes us down onto the injured man. His animal cry of pain breaks the spell, and the camera-angle shifts to a WIDE-ANGLE of the little group of labouring sailors.

“Ahoy there!”

A hailing voice is heard off to one side, and the sailors all turn to see another boat moving swiftly towards them. There is already a jury-rigged sail on it, and a certain air of briskness and efficiency in its approach.

“Ahoy there! Who’s in charge?”

Now we can see an officer speaking through a loud-hailer.

Angus at once begins to shake the man who has just been hoisted into the boat. “Mr. Britt, sir, Mr. Britt, the Captain wants to speak to you, sir.”

“Very well, Mr …” Britt looks at Angus with a disoriented, forgetful expression.

“Macdonald, sir.”

“Mr Macdonald, tell him I’ll be with him in a minute.”

• Scene [Sailing (Saturday 7/11, c. 7.30 a.m.)]

“With all due respect, sir, wouldn’t it be easier to make for the coast …”

37

“Sorry, Mr. Britt. St. Helena’s the nearest land, and that’s where we’re going.”

“Yes, sir. The women and children …”

“The children can come with us. We’ve got the bigger boat, and they’ll be safer here. You’ll have to keep the women and wounded you’ve already got, though.”

“We haven’t much space, sir …”

“I can see that, man. Neither have we. Needs must, you know. So long as you can keep your sails up and make a steady few miles a day you’ll be fine. Try to keep up with us for as long as you can. Anything else?”

“Well, sir, the rudder’s not too good, and we seem to have sprung a few leaks already, and the water supply …”

“Good God, man, you’ll have to make do. We’ll all have to make do. We’ve got to go. The wind’s getting up. We’ll speak again …”

All through this conversation between Captain Rogerson (brisk, brusque, brown-bearded, impatient) and Mr. Britt (short, clean-shaven, with a harried, clerk-like face), leaning over the gunwales of their respective boats, a constant traffic of people and goods has been going on. Children have been lifted over into the Captain’s boat – with a certain amount of crying and protest, muted by cold and tiredness – and a few adults have moved to take their places. Water casks have gone to and fro, along with canvas, tools, and various other necessities of the voyage. Britt’s face says all we need to know about how desperate a venture this is; but the Captain is determined to be off just as soon as minimum provision has been made.

There is some half-hearted waving as the larger boat sails off, mainly from the children, but the sailors and few able-bodied men: Angus, Tiny and the others, including an old Lascar, are too busy rigging a mast to turn around.

• Scene [The Speech (Saturday 7/11, c. 9.30 a.m.)]

The other boat is still visible, cutting along in the water. We can hear the creak of the wind in the rigging, and the people are grouped as comfortably as they can be: Bob Ironside has been laid down flat in the sternsheets of the boat, Miss Taggart, a stewardess, in the bows. All the others are crowded around them.

51

Angus blows his whistle for silence, and the grumbling growl of voices dies down. Mr Britt stands, unsteadily (he is clearly still a little shocked) and begins to make a speech:

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he begins. Then repeats himself: “Ladies and Gentlemen. As you can see, our boat is overcrowded and undermanned. There are precisely fifty-four of us in a space intended for thirty at the most. What is more, Mr. Ironside and Miss Taggart’s injuries preclude them from sitting upright with the rest of us, so we will have to leave them where they are for the time being. I am Mr. Sidney Britt, the ship’s master, and I am in command of this boat. I would remind you that there are no passengers on board a life-boat, and that everyone will be expected to pull their weight.”

“First of all, I should like to know if there is anyone among you who has any medical experience, however slight.”

“How about the Doctor, there?” shouts out one of the men in the crowd, indicating Doctor Taskar.

Taskar sits sullen and quiet, taking no notice of the discussion.

Britt pauses, but seeing no response, is about to move on when Diana speaks up perkily:

“My name is Mrs. Jarman, Diana Jarman, sir. I’m a trained nurse, and I’ll be happy to do anything I can.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jarman. I would remind the rest of you that I shall expect you to assist with managing the boat. That may involve such duties as rowing during calm periods as well as keeping a look-out at night.”

“I will not disguise from you that we are starting with certain disadvantages. We only have half of the drinking water we should have, so we’ll start right away on short rations. Mr Macdonald will issue each of you with two tablespoonfuls of water each day, one in the morning and one in the evening.”

There is a little gasping and murmuring at this, and Angus scowls at the turn the speech is taking.

“As we have quite a few leaks, I shall also have to ask you to help us with bailing out the boat.”

Belatedly aware of the effect his words are having, he concludes:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if we all pull together and do our best, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t get through this together. The Captain and I have determined on making for Saint Helena, five hundred miles due north of here, and as you can see, we are already making good progress.”

59

Angus turns and looks out to sea, wide and choppy with the swell. There is now no sign of the other boat. His reverie is broken when he sees a large, brown, brawny hand thrust in front of his face:

“Robert Watts, from Reading, but my friends call me Tiny. Look, I don’t know much about seamanship. I’m an aeronautical engineer by trade. But if you want anything done at any time, just explain the job to me and I’ll do it.”

Angus takes his hand and pumps it.

“Thanks, Mr. … Watts, is it?”

“Tiny.”

“Tiny, then. I’m Angus. Thanks very much. I think we’ll be needing all the help we can get.”

62

ACT III: Sabotage

The only two natives who helped us at any time were the old serang, a proper gentleman, and a fireman from Zanzibar, and they couldn’t do enough to help.
– Angus Macdonald


• Scene [Sharks (Saturday 7/11, c. 9.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 1] appears on the blank screen, then fades into:

Angus lying against the gunwale of the boat, looking exhausted, when he notices a knocking on the planks beside him. It sounds like a knuckle rapping at a front door, and we see him mentally running over the possible causes of such a sound. He looks up. No, everyone else is sitting still, or sprawled out in sleep. He looks down at his hands. No, it does not appear to be coming from inside the boat. He looks over the side.

A huge dark shape with a fin is scraping and bashing against the boat. He stares at it in horror, until someone else’s voice cries “Shark!”

Tiny gets hold of the boat-hook and jabs it at the creature, which swims away unhurriedly.

As the camera draws back, we see a number of others, huge dark-grey monsters, diving and circling around the open boat, biding their time.

• Scene [The Doctor (Sunday 8/11, c. 11.30 p.m.)]

[DAY 2]:

It is night, waves are breaking over the side, and everyone is getting soaked.
Every now and then the Doctor, who has been largely silent up till now, shouts, “Boy, bring me my coffee,” or, “Boy, another beer.” …

Insert: [Angus standing in the snow, in a German concentration camp, looking down at the Doctor’s pocket-knife – A guard shouts out: Raus! Raus!]

68

• Scene [First Death (Monday 9/11, c. 7.30 p.m.)]

[DAY 3]:

The Doctor is rambling and cursing, leaning up against Angus’s side. The latter is trying to comfort him, patting him and murmuring endearments.

Slumps against him. Horrible bright staring eyes.

• Scene [Sea-Burial (Tuesday 10/11, c. 5.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 4]:

Mr. Britt: “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, we now commit his body to the deep …”

Insert: [Angus: “We can’t waste any cloth! We haven’t any to spare.”

Tiny: “But how will the others feel? You know what’s going to happen the moment he’s overboard!”

Angus: “Well, we can weigh him down with something, if you like, so he’ll sink more quickly, but there’s no way we can cover him up completely.”

Tiny: “It’s just those eyes of his …”]

The body has scarcely slid beneath the surface when we see the flurries in the water, and a red stain, with thrashing fins, The sharks have had their first reward.

• Scene [Bob (Wednesday 11/11, c. 11.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 5]:

Angus is picking his way, on all fours, through the intricately entwined bodies which constitute the deck of the boat. Eventually he reaches Bob, strained-faced, black-bearded Bob. “Do you think we have a chance, Angus?”

“Everything’ll be all right, Bob. We’re bound to be picked up. How’s your back today?”

“Not so good, Angus, not so good.”

“Can’t you sit up at all?”

Bob makes an effort to raise himself, but immediately breaks off with a wheezing intake of breath: “Christ, that hurts!”

71

Angus’ face speaks volumes as he pats his friend on the shoulder, telling him to get some rest.

• Scene [Dead Lascars (Thursday 12/11, c. 5.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 6]:

Lascars are swaying back and forwards, chanting “Pani, sahib, pani, sahib.” The camera tracks away from them to show Tiny and Angus pitching the last of three dead lascars into the sea.

• Scene [Close Embrace (Friday 13/11, c. 9.30 p.m.)]

[DAY 7]:

Miss Taggart is sitting and swaying on the gunwale. She pitches forward as the boat rolls, and we see a fearful mass of sores on her back as she topples into the hold. She falls on top of another passenger, Mr Ball, who is heard protesting feebly. As she is pulled off him by Angus and Tiny, we see that he too is dead.

• Scene [More burials (Saturday 14/11, c. 5.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 8]:
…

• Scene [Engineer (Sunday night 15/11, c. 5.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 9]:
…

75

• Scene [Annie (Monday 16/11, c. 5.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 10]:
…

• Scene [Mr Britt (Tuesday 17/11, c. 12.30 p.m.)]

[DAY 11]:
…

• Scene [Bob (Wednesday 18/11, c. 3.30 p.m.)]

[DAY 12]:
…

• Scene [Seven burials (Thursday 19/11, c. 5.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 13]:
…

• Scene [Taking over (Friday 20/11, c. 5.30 p.m.)]

[DAY 14]:
…

• Scene [Rations (Saturday 21/11, c. 8.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 15]:
…

81

• Scene [The plug (Sunday 22/11, c. 11.30 p.m.)]

[DAY 16]:
“We’re full of water!”

Angus starts up from sleep and looks over to see Diana, panic-stricken, crying out while trying to bail as fast as she can. The boat is half-swamped, and the other survivors (ten or so people) are looking up sleepily from their drenched sails and bits of old clothing.

The plug-hole is visible below the waterline, gleaming blue like a little light, opening up into tempting vistas of the deep. Angus is fascinated by it, and stares down at it for a moment before pulling himself together and starting to hunt for the plug. He finds it, eventually, in a locker, and hammers it home after an ecstasy of fumbling. The dull hard work of bailing recommences.

The people nearest the hole subside into slumber, having barely stirred during the whole excitement.

• Scene [Saboteur (Monday 23/11, c. 1.30 a.m.)]

[DAY 17]:
Angus wakes again to the sound of gurgling water. The moon is reflecting white on the water both inside and outside the boat. He replaces the plug and lies down again, this time with this eyes open a slit.

We see a hand reaching towards the plug. In the dim light it is impossible to see whether it’s white or brown. Angus pounces, and catches hold of it. Looking up, we see the face of the young engineer Angus talked to earlier.

“What are you doing? Are you crazy? You could have killed us all!”

“We’re all going to die anyway, so we might as well go together.”

The engineer’s eyes are wide and staring, and it’s clear he’s gone insane.

Angus deputes some of the others to watch him, but he grabs the first-aid box and jumps over the side with it before any of them can stop him. The two disappear together in an instant, but the camera follows them a long way down into the deep.

84

ACT IV: Drifting


• Scene [The first dream (Tuesday night 8/12)]

Angus is dreaming. He’s still lying in the boat, but now he hears a scraping under the keel. He looks down; the water has turned glistening blue, and he can see golden sand gleaming through it, with little white shells. Looking up, he sees a beach lying before him. It’s wide and white, and fringed with a dark green belt of palm-trees and tropical luxuriance.

He looks over. The other two survivors, Tiny and Diana, are still asleep. Springing over the side of the boat, he begins to wade his way in towards shore. When he reaches it he casts himself face down upon it and begins to clutch at the dry hot sand convulsively with his cupped fingers. Parrots and raucous birds sing in the background.

Angus is walking along the beach, still in his stained uniform, but with his socks and shoes in one hand and his trousers rolled up past his calves. The beach ends in a little promontory of rock, which he begins to edge out along. Coming round it, he sees a little beach nestled in between the cliffs. There is someone sitting in the middle of the white sands. It’s a young woman, wearing a knee-length dark dress and a white blouse.

She does not look up as he approaches, but when he reaches her and says “Ellie,” she replies “Angus,” still looking down.

“What are you doing here, Ellie? I thought you’d left me.”

“I’m sorry, Angus, but that’s how it had to be.”

“I needed you, Ellie, you were all I had.”

“Don’t put it all off on me. I was lonely. You weren’t there – you were always at sea. I needed someone there.”

“But … Ellie… you know you …”

“And now you’ve got them. Your little crew. Your girl.”

“She’s not my girl. You were my girl, Ellie, you know that.”

“I know that I hardly had a laugh or a smile out of you all the time we were together. He makes me laugh.”

“He …!”

As Angus starts to shout angrily, the sky darkens above their heads. He looks up anxiously. There’s a tropical storm coming on.

86

“Now see what you’ve done!” she concludes, triumphantly.

The sand heaves up around them, turning back to sea – long Atlantic combers. Angus sinks into them with a despairing cry: “Ellie!” But she is gone.

He opens his eyes. He is still in the boat, surrounded by the cold grey waves of reality.

• Scene [Rain (Wednesday night 9/12)]

…

• Scene [The ship (Saturday night 12/12)]

…

88

ACT V: The Ship

Diana was lying on the doctor’s couch, and when the three of us were left alone for a while she bounced up and down on the springs and said, “This is better than lying in that wet boat.”
– Angus Macdonald



• Scene [On board (Saturday night 12/12)]

…

• Scene [The Captain (Saturday night 12/12)]

…

• Scene [Diana bounces (Saturday night 12/12)]

…

• Scene [Water (Saturday night 12/12)]

…

• Scene [The second dream (Sunday morning 13/12)]

Angus is out in the sun. He looks up at it, smiles. Looking down, he can see that his uniform is dry and neat, no longer sodden and patched. He looks over. There is Diana, in a nice frock, smiling at him, her hair done. On the other side, there is Tiny, large and imposing as ever, but now as neat as a new pin.

He looks down, they’re moving over planks, and we can see the sun glinting up from the sea below, through the interstices – flash, dark, flash, dark.

91

He looks up again. There are ships all around them, the Liver birds arching above them, but they are walking quickly towards the shore, the city, the trams, away from the sea.

He blinks his eyes again, and opens them on a summer landscape: green lawns, overhanging trees. He is sitting on a bench, beside a hedge, watching a game of tennis. Diana is playing with a young man, returning the ball with great gusto, running and laughing like a spirited schoolgirl. The young man looks a little sinister, dark and toothy, and Angus frowns. He looks around for Tiny, but Tiny is no longer there.

A couple of ponies poke their heads over the hedge, and Angus walks over to pat them.

As he draws closer, they seem a little less friendly, huge teeth showing in their mouths. They are scowling and grimacing at him.

Angus looks back in Diana’s direction. The game is temporarily in abeyance; a small boy is running around looking for the ball. Diana nods encouragingly at Angus: “Give them an apple; they like that,” she shouts.

Angus reaches into his pocket and draws out an apple, clearly to his own surprise.

He offers it to the first of the ponies, who wolfs it down with huge teeth.

Looking round, he is just in time to see the arching fang-ranks of a shark’s mouth descending towards him, and draws back with a start.

It is the second pony, yet is also a shark when it opens its mouth.

He turns back to Diana.

She is still laughing and nodding, but the tennis court has become dark and deserted, as if evening has come on. A wind starts up, rattling leaves across the desolate space.

Angus turns back from the pines towards Diana. The young man, now wearing a black uniform, is leading her towards a low table covered with a white sheet. There is another man waiting there with a scalpel in one hand.

“No, Diana, no,” he yells.

“It’s all right, they’re friends of mine,” she shouts back to him, ringingly, throwing back her head and laughing.

At that the second man whips a plastic bag over her head, and we have a momentary glimpse of her eyes wide open in shock and terror when Angus again wakes up.

95

• Scene [Torpedo (Friday morning 1/1/43, 4 a.m.)]

There is, again, movement in the dark depths. A faint pinging is heard, a swirling. Is there a shape, black against the blackness, moving through it? We are still straining to make it out when …

EXPLOSION.

CLOSE-UP of Angus’s eyes opening out of some unimaginable depth. Was the noise only in his dreams? It seems not: there are clanging pumps and sirens, shouting voices, all coming from outside.

WIDE-ANGLE shows his narrow, cramped cell, shared with Jack. There is little in the way of belongings: no ornaments or photographs. He rolls out of his bunk, starts (once more), to huddle on clothes and sea-boots …

The screen now shows, over black-and-white newsreel scenes of grey seas and sinking ships, the following lines:

At 4 A.M. on New Year’s Day, 1942, the Rhakotis – a blockade runner bound for St. Nazaire – was attacked and sunk by a British cruiser.

Angus Macdonald was picked up by a U-boat and carried to a French port, then escorted to a prisoner-of-war camp in Germany.

Jack Edmead reached Spain. He was repatriated to England, where he joined another ship, which was later torpedoed and sunk with all hands.