(instrumental)
Spoken text taken from "Mutiny on the Bounty":
"It was like riding a cork over a waterfall, sir, and wind is not the name for
what blows in your face, it's something made of iron, swings at you from the
west, never changing day in and day out, with seas as high as the neigh-mast. We
had life-lines rigged everywhere, sir, and there were still sixteen men washed
overboard."
"Cold?"
"Three men froze in the yards, frozen stiff, sir. Couldn't get them down without
cutting their fingers loose from the shrouds. I was lucky..."
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