Sons of the Scriptwriters

[Handley_Page]

As I write this, there's a very old film on our TV. Starring Cornell Wilde & Maureen O'Hara it's called "Sons of the Musketeers" [although it may also be know as "At Swords Point"]. I have to confess to a liking for these old Swashbuckling [action] movies, on account of them being quite funny and usually entertaining (a good one made at about the same time, 1952, is "The Crimson Pirate").

This one, however is a dreary thing; it must have taken at least half an hour to write. We'll pass over any historical inaccuracies [Hollywood was never noted for that] and skip to the actual words in the plot.

So the challenge, fellow authors, is to summarise a plot with some decent dialogue, with any convenient notes about the general run of the story and the film in general.

We ain't talking rocket-science here. Just a good outline for a 'historical romance' (where 'romance' is meant in its old sense; drama, excitement and even a bit of fun).

"Take that, you blaggard"

 

[JAMESBJOHNSON]

Here you go.

Civil War times.

On a foggy night, off the coast of Florida, a small boat comes alongside the blockade sentry, USS MERDE. The oarsman hails the officer of the deck, Ensign Dudley Dogoode. The oarsman hands Dudley an envelope sealed with candle waz and a signet impression he recognizes as that of his estranged Southern Love, Nellie Belle Beuregarde the planters daughter he met during the late 3rd Seminole Indian War in Florida.

MY DARLING DUDLEY, it began, YOURE OUR ONLY HOPE! WE'RE STARVING AND ENCRUSTED WITH COOTIES, AND CERTAIN TO DIE UNLESS YOU CAN TAKE OUR COTTON ABOARD AND TRANSPORT IT TO NASSAU, BAHAMAS AND TO OUR ENGLISH FACTOR THERE. LOVE, NELLIE BELLE XOXOXOXOX

PS I GOT SOMETHING I WANNA GIVE YOU THAT THE MESSENGER CANT DELIVER.

 

[NaokoSmith]

Here you go.

Civil War times.

On a foggy night, off the coast of Florida, a small boat comes alongside the blockade sentry, USS MERDE. The oarsman hails the officer of the deck, Ensign Dudley Dogoode. The oarsman hands Dudley an envelope sealed with candle waz and a signet impression he recognizes as that of his estranged Southern Love, Nellie Belle Beuregarde the planters daughter he met during the late 3rd Seminole Indian War in Florida.

MY DARLING DUDLEY, it began, YOURE OUR ONLY HOPE! WE'RE STARVING AND ENCRUSTED WITH COOTIES, AND CERTAIN TO DIE UNLESS YOU CAN TAKE OUR COTTON ABOARD AND TRANSPORT IT TO NASSAU, BAHAMAS AND TO OUR ENGLISH FACTOR THERE. LOVE, NELLIE BELLE XOXOXOXOX

"Goldarn it," mutters Dogoode. "Ah would do anythin' for my Nellie."

Flinging his cloak about him, he strides across the bow to the fo'c'sle. He leans on the pulpit, staring off into the dim fog drifting all about.

(Sorry about the accent! Very difficult for us Scots )

 

[Handley_Page]

"Goldarn it," mutters Dogoode. "Ah would do anythin' for my Nellie."

Flinging his cloak about him, he strides across the bow to the fo'c'sle. He leans on the pulpit, staring off into the dim fog drifting all about.

(Sorry about the accent! Very difficult for us Scots )

He makes up his mind and goes to see the Captain to explain.

"Avast there, me Hearties," yells the Captain to the surprised crew, "We're off to make our fortunes in Foreign Parts with our first cargo; of cotton."

But the crew were more interested in plunder and rapine and took a long time to debate the issue.
Mutterings about "the Articles" and "The Code" were heard.
But Dogoode convinced them to start off with halves and work up to Pints, so they set sail.

 

[JAMESBJOHNSON]

"Goldarn it," mutters Dogoode. "Ah would do anythin' for my Nellie."

Flinging his cloak about him, he strides across the bow to the fo'c'sle. He leans on the pulpit, staring off into the dim fog drifting all about.

(Sorry about the accent! Very difficult for us Scots )

Speak thru a mouth fulla corn bread, its an exact Scottish brogue.

 

[NaokoSmith]

He makes up his mind and goes to see the Captain to explain.

"Avast there, me Hearties," yells the Captain to the surprised crew, "We're off to make our fortunes in Foreign Parts with our first cargo; of cotton."

But the crew were more interested in plunder and rapine and took a long time to debate the issue.
Mutterings about "the Articles" and "The Code" were heard.
But Dogoode convinced them to start off with halves and work up to Pints, so they set sail.

(Spoken through mouthful of corn bread

The wind slapped the canvas heartily against the mizzen mast, the mainmast, the foremast but not the jiggermast as they weren't using one. Swiftly they passed down the foggy river on their way out to the open sea.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

(Spoken through mouthful of corn bread

The wind slapped the canvas heartily against the mizzen mast, the mainmast, the foremast but not the jiggermast as they weren't using one. Swiftly they passed down the foggy river on their way out to the open sea.

"But how do we deal wi' tha wee cotton, Ensign Dogoode?" his Scottish sub-altern inquired.

"Ya gotta jump down, spin around, and pick a bale o' cotton, MacLeod," Dogoode replied, "that's the only way to handle it."

"And pick a bale each day, while you're at it," he added repeatedly.

 

[NaokoSmith]

"But how do we deal wi' tha wee cotton, Ensign Dogoode?" his Scottish sub-altern inquired.

"Ya gotta jump down, spin around, and pick a bale o' cotton, MacLeod," Dogoode replied, "that's the only way to handle it."

"And pick a bale each day, while you're at it," he added repeatedly.

Meanwhile, they were floating steadily down the river with the wind slapping the sails against the mizzen mast, the mainmast, the foremast but not the jiggermast as they weren't using one.

They passed a small town where the young women came out waving hopefully and humming: All the nice girls like a sailor, but because of the slapping of the sails, the sailors couldn't hear and were too shy to go and indulge their usual habits of rapine.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Meanwhile, they were floating steadily down the river with the wind slapping the sails against the mizzen mast, the mainmast, the foremast but not the jiggermast as they weren't using one.

They passed a small town where the young women came out waving hopefully and humming: All the nice girls like a sailor, but because of the slapping of the sails, the sailors couldn't hear and were too shy to go and indulge their usual habits of rapine.

And the scene brought tears to young MacLeod's cloudy gray eyes.

"Twas just like the day I lef' wi' the Forty-Second tae sail down the Brummielaw," he sputtered through his sobs. "Some o' us were wearin' shoes an' stockings, some o' us had nane o' tha, and some o' us had hairy sporrin sailin down the Brummielaw."

The Captain smote him mightily across the gob. "Get a hold of yerself, sailor," he barked, and MacLeod obeyed.