The Decks Ran Red

Henry Scott:
You're no match for me without that knife.

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
I'm not going to throw it away to find out.

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
[Narrating; text is also seen on opening title card] There was a ship named the S.S. Berwind. This is the story of that ship... A story which actually happened... A story of the most infamous, diabolically cunning crime in the annals of Maritime history.

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
[Narrating, as he is being ferried out to meet his new command, the S.S. Berwind - an old freighter that is quite a change from the luxury liners which comprise Capt. Rummill's entire maritime career] The S.S. Berwind: as dirty, as miserable, as rusted-up an old tub as I'd ever seen. The nearer I approached her, the more profoundly depressed I became. There was an unhealthy atmosphere of tension. I was conscious of it even before I reached the deck. There'd been a breakdown in discipline. I'd have to take a firm hand.

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
[Responding to a sarcastic remark made by one of the crew] Oh, dear. I suppose every ship must have its comic. It's one of the curses of the sea - like rats, and scurvy.

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
[Narrating - commenting on the provocatively beautiful wife of the Maori cook who was hired at the last minute, and who had insisted on bringing his wife along, against Captain Rummill's wishes] It had never entered my mind that the woman would be so sensuous, so exotically beautiful. I knew then that I had started my command with a dangerous error of judgment.

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
[Mahia, serving dinner in the officer's mess, is dressed rather provocatively] I suggest that while you're on this ship, you wear something a little less revealing.

Mahia:
[Coyly] Does it bother the captain?

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
[Capt. Rummill does not respond, merely gives her disapproving looks, then resumes his dinner]

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
[Narrating] At five a.m. today, Mr. Moody passed away in his sleep. At twelve noon, we buried him at sea. The crew seemed to feel that Mr. Moody died of a broken heart. And somehow the troublemakers twisted this to make it appear as if I were responsible. It was just one more thing to fan the unrest that was brewing day by day.

Leroy Martin:
[as the two of them drag Mace from his bunk] What're you gonna' do with him?

Henry Scott:
We'll throw him off the stern.

Leroy Martin:
He'll scream like a stuck pig.

Henry Scott:
Nobody'll hear him. [They proceed to drag Mace, kicking and struggling, back to the stern of the ship, where they toss him into the sea]

Henry Scott:
Rummill, you're no sailor. You're like the rest of those panty-waists on luxury liners: cocktail parties, watercress sandwiches and drinking tea. That's your racket!

Capt. Edwin Rummill:
Looks like it's going to be your brawn against my brain, doesn't it?

Henry Scott:
Yeah, it does! [He lunges at the captain, and a struggle ensues]