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from the short story by
ROALD DAHL
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Ernie had been given a rifle
for his birthday.
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He took the gun and a box of bullets
and went to see what he could kill.
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Outside Raymond's house,
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he stuck two fingers in his mouth
and gave a long shrill whistle.
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[whistles]
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Raymond was Ernie's best friend.
He lived four doors away.
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He held up the rifle over his head.
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"Gripes!" said Raymond.
"We can have some fun with that!"
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The two boys set off.
This was a Saturday morning in May.
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The chestnut trees were in full flower,
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and the hawthorn was white
along the hedgerows.
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As Ernie and Raymond
progressed up the narrow hedgy lane,
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they shot every little bird they saw.
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Bullfinches, hedge sparrows,
whitethroats, yellowhammers.
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When they reached the railway line,
there were 14 small birds
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dangling on a line of string.
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"Look!" whispered Ernie,
pointing with a long arm. "Over there!"
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There was a small boy looking up
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into the branches of an old tree
through binoculars.
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"Watson! That little twerp."
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Peter Watson had a small, frail body.
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Face freckled
and he wore spectacles with thick lenses.
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He was a brilliant pupil,
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already in senior class at school
though he was only 13.
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He loved music and played the piano well.
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He was no good at games.
He was quiet and polite.
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The two bigger boys
crept up slowly on the small boy.
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He did not see them
because he had the binoculars to his eyes
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and was deeply captivated
by what he was looking at.
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"Stick 'em up!"
Ernie shouted, pointing the gun.
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Peter Watson jumped.
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He stared through his spectacles
at the two intruders.
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"Go on!" Ernie shouted. "Stick 'em up!"
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Peter Watson stood still,
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holding the binoculars
in front of him with both hands.
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He looked at Raymond and Ernie.
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He wasn't afraid, but knew better
than to play the fool with these two.
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He'd suffered
from their attentions over the years.
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Hands up.
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It was the only sensible thing to do.
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Raymond stepped forward
and snatched the binoculars away.
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"Who you spyin' on?" He snapped.
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Peter Watson considered the possibilities.
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He could turn and run,
but they'd catch him in seconds.
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He could shout for help,
but no one would hear him.
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All he could do,
therefore, was to keep calm
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and try to talk his way
out of the situation.
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"I was watching
a green woodpecker," Peter said.
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"A what?"
"A male, green woodpecker." Picus viridis.
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"He was tapping the trunk
of that dead tree, searching for grubs."
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"Where is he?"
Ernie said, raising his gun.
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"I'll 'ave 'im!"
"No, you won't," Peter said,
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looking at the string of birds
slung over Raymond's shoulder.
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"He flew off the moment you shouted.
Woodpeckers are extremely timid."
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Raymond whispered in Ernie's ear.
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Ernie slapped his thigh. "Great idea!"
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He placed his gun on the ground
and advanced upon the small boy.
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He threw him to the ground.
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Raymond took out some string
and cut off a length of it.
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They tied Peter's wrists together tight.
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"Now the legs," Raymond said.
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Peter struggled
and received a punch in the stomach.
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That winded him, and he lay still.
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The bigger boys
tied his ankles with more string,
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trussed him like a chicken.
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Ernie picked up his gun,
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and they began to carry the boy
towards the railway lines.
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Peter Watson kept absolutely quiet.
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Whatever they were up to,
talking wouldn't help matters.
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They dragged him down the embankment
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and laid him lengthwise
between the tracks. These tracks here.
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These tracks right here.
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This happened to me 27 years ago.
My name is Peter Watson.
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"More string," Ernie said.
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When they finished, Peter was helpless,
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tied fast between the rails.
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The only parts he could move
were his head and feet.
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Ernie and Raymond stepped back
to survey their handiwork.
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"We done a nice job," Ernie said.
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"This is murder,"
said the boy lying between the rails.
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"Not for certain," said Ernie.
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"Depends how much clearance
the trains have."
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"You keep down flat,
you might just get away with it." [laughs]
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The bigger boys climbed up the embankment
and sat behind some bushes.
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Ernie produced a pack of cigarettes.
They smoked.
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Peter knew
they weren't going to release him.
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These were dangerous, crazy boys.
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Dangerous, crazy, stupid boys.
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"I must try to keep calm and think,"
Peter told himself.
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He lay there, still, weighing his chances.
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The highest part of his head was his nose.
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He estimated his nose was sticking up
about four inches above the rails.
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Was that too much?
Hard to say with modern diesels.
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His head rested
upon loose gravel between two sleepers.
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He must try to burrow down a little.
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He began to wriggle his head
pushing the gravel away
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and gradually making for himself
a small indentation.
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He reckoned
he'd lowered his head two inches.
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That would do. But what about the feet?
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He tucked them pigeon-toed
so they lay almost flat,
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then waited for the train to come.
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He wondered whether there might be
a vacuum created underneath the train
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as it rushed over him,
sucking him upward. There might.
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He must concentrate everything
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upon pressing his entire body
against the ground.
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"Don't go limp. Keep stiff and tense
and press down into the ground."
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Peter watched the white sky
above his head,
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where a single cumulus cloud
was drifting slowly.
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An aeroplane came across the cloud.
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A small high-winged monoplane
with a red fuselage.
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An old Piper Cub, he thought it was.
He watched it until it disappeared.
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Then, quite suddenly,
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he heard a curious vibrating sound
coming from the rails either side of him.
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It was very soft, scarcely audible,
a tiny, thrumming whisper
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that seemed to be
coming along the rails from far away.
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[rails rattling softly]
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Peter raised his head
and looked down the railway line
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that stretched for a mile in the distance,
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and saw the train.
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First, only a black dot,
but as he kept his head raised,
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the dot grew bigger and bigger
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and began to take shape
and was no longer a dot,
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but instead, the big, square,
blunt front-end of a diesel engine.
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Peter dropped his head
and pushed it down hard into the hole
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- he'd dug in the gravel.
- [train bell dinging]
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He pigeon-toed his feet flat.
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He shut his eyes tight
and pressed his body into the ground.
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The train came on with an explosive blast.
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Like a gun went off in his head.
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With the explosion
came a tearing, screaming wind
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like a hurricane blowing down his nostrils
and into his lungs.
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The noise was shattering.
The wind choked him.
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He felt as if he were being eaten alive
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and swallowed up in the belly
of a screaming, murderous monster.
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[Peter] And then it was over.
The train was gone.
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Peter Watson opened his eyes
and saw the white sky
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and the big, white cloud
still drifting overhead.
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It was all over, and he had done it.
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- Cut him loose.
- ...Ernie said.
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Raymond cut the strings
binding Peter to the rails.
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"Undo his feet, but keep his hands tied."
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Raymond cut the strings around his ankles.
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"Oh, you're still a prisoner, matey,"
Ernie said.
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The two bigger boys marched Peter Watson
across the next field towards the lake.
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The prisoner's wrists
were still tied together.
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Ernie held the gun in his spare hand
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and Raymond carried the binoculars
he had taken from Peter.
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The lake was long and narrow
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with tall willow trees
growing along its bank.
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In the middle, the water was clear,
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but closer to the shore
was a forest of bulrushes.
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"Now, then," Ernie said.
"What I suggest is this."
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"You take his arms, I'll take his legs,
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and we'll swing him as far out as we can
over them nice muddy reeds."
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"Look!" Raymond interrupted.
"There! Let's have him!"
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Peter Watson turned and saw it at once.
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A nest consisting
of a huge pile of reeds and rushes
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that rose up two feet above the waterline.
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And, on top, a magnificent white swan
sitting serenely as the Lady of the Lake.
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Her head was turned towards the boys,
alert and watchful.
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"Holy cats!" cried Raymond.
"What a beauty!"
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Ernie let go of the prisoner's arm
and lifted the gun to his shoulder.
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"This is... This is a bird sanctuary,"
said Peter, stammering.
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"A what?" asked Ernie.
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Peter felt a wild rage
beginning to build up inside him.
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He tried to keep his voice calm.
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"Swans are the most
protected birds in England,
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and nobody shoots a bird on its nest.
She may have cygnets under her."
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"Please don't do it. You can't do it.
Please, don't do it! Stop!"
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[wings fluttering]
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The bullet hit the swan
in her elegant head
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and her long white neck
sank slowly to the side of the nest.
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Open.
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"Cut his hands free, Raymond.
He's our gun-dog."
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Raymond cut the strings
binding the small boy's wrists.
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"Go get him!"
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"I refuse," I said.
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Ernie hit Peter
across the face, hard, with his open hand.
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A trickle of blood
began running out of one nostril.
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"Try refusin' one more time,
and I'm goin' to make you a promise:
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I'll knock out every one
of your shiny white front teeth,
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top and bottom. You understand that?"
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Peter said nothing.
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"Answer me!" Ernie barked.
"You understand?"
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"Yes," Peter Watson said quietly.
"I understand that."
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Tears were running down Peter's face
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as he went down the bank
and entered the water.
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He waded out to the dead swan
and picked it up tenderly with both hands.
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Underneath were two tiny cygnets,
their bodies covered with gray down.
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They were huddling
in the center of the nest.
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"Any eggs?" Ernie shouted from the bank.
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"No," Peter answered. "Nothing."
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He carried the dead swan
back to the edge of the lake.
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He placed it gently on the ground,
and he stood up and faced the two others.
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His eyes, still wet with tears,
were blazing with fury.
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"It's you who ought to be dead," he said.
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Ernie seemed just a tiny bit taken aback,
but he quickly recovered.
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A dangerous little spark
danced in his small black eyes.
200
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"Give me your knife, Raymond."
201
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There is a joint in the bone
where the wing meets the bird.
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Ernie slid the knife into the joint
and cut through the tendon.
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The knife was sharp and cut well,
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and soon the wing came away
all in one piece.
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Ernie turned the swan over
and severed the other wing.
206
00:10:25,126 --> 00:10:27,709
"String," he said,
holding out his hand to Raymond.
207
00:10:30,251 --> 00:10:32,584
Ernie cut eight pieces,
each about a yard long.
208
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He tied the bits of string
along the top edge of the great wing.
209
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"Stick out your arms."
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Peter Watson stood in the sunshine
beside the lake
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on this beautiful May morning,
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the enormous, limp,
slightly bloodied wings
213
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dangling grotesquely at his sides.
214
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Ernie clapped his hands
and danced a little jig on the grass.
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[lively instrumental music playing]
216
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"Have you finished?" Peter Watson asked.
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"Swans don't talk," Ernie said.
218
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They marched along the bank of the lake
until they came to a tall willow tree.
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The branches hung down from a great height
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until they almost touched
the surface of the lake.
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"What you're gonna do, Mr. Swan,
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is climb to the top,
and when you get there,
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you'll spread out your wings
and take off!"
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"Fantastic!" cried Raymond.
225
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The thought of being high up
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and out of reach of these hooligans
appealed to Peter greatly.
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When he was up there, he'd stay up there.
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He doubted
they would bother to come up after him.
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If they did,
he could climb away on a thin limb
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that wouldn't take the weight
of two people.
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The tree was fairly easy to climb,
with low branches to give him a start up.
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"Higher!" shouted Ernie. "Keep going!"
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Peter eventually arrived at a point
where he could go no higher.
234
00:11:45,584 --> 00:11:48,709
His feet were standing
on a branch as thick as a man's wrist,
235
00:11:48,709 --> 00:11:51,209
and this branch
reached far out over the lake,
236
00:11:51,209 --> 00:11:53,084
then curved gracefully downward.
237
00:11:53,084 --> 00:11:55,126
He stood there resting after the climb.
238
00:11:55,126 --> 00:11:58,751
He was very high up, at least 50 feet.
He couldn't see the two boys.
239
00:11:58,751 --> 00:12:01,459
They were no longer
standing at the base of the tree.
240
00:12:01,459 --> 00:12:02,709
"Now listen carefully!"
241
00:12:02,709 --> 00:12:04,626
They had walked away from the tree
242
00:12:04,626 --> 00:12:08,043
to a point where they had a clear view
of the small boy at the top.
243
00:12:08,043 --> 00:12:09,376
Looking down at them now,
244
00:12:09,376 --> 00:12:11,626
Peter Watson realized
how sparse and slender
245
00:12:11,626 --> 00:12:13,376
the leaves of a willow tree were.
246
00:12:13,376 --> 00:12:15,334
They gave him almost no cover at all.
247
00:12:15,334 --> 00:12:17,376
"Start walking out along that branch!"
248
00:12:17,376 --> 00:12:21,334
"Keep goin' till you're out over
the nice muddy water! Then take off"
249
00:12:21,334 --> 00:12:23,168
Peter Watson didn't move.
250
00:12:23,168 --> 00:12:26,168
He kept his eyes on the distant figures
in the field below.
251
00:12:26,168 --> 00:12:28,709
They were standing quite still,
looking up at him.
252
00:12:28,709 --> 00:12:30,001
"I'm gonna count to ten,
253
00:12:30,001 --> 00:12:33,793
if you ain't spread them wings
and flown away, I'm gonna shoot you down."
254
00:12:33,793 --> 00:12:36,334
"That'll make two swans
I've knocked off today."
255
00:12:36,334 --> 00:12:37,834
"Here we go."
256
00:12:37,834 --> 00:12:43,584
"One, two, three, four, five, six!"
257
00:12:43,584 --> 00:12:48,084
Peter Watson remained absolutely still.
Nothing would make him move from now on.
258
00:12:48,084 --> 00:12:51,418
"Seven, eight, nine, ten!"
259
00:12:51,418 --> 00:12:53,959
Peter could see the gun
coming up to the shoulder.
260
00:12:53,959 --> 00:12:55,418
Pointing straight at him.
261
00:12:55,418 --> 00:12:57,084
He heard the crack of the rifle
262
00:12:57,084 --> 00:12:59,918
and the zip of the bullet
as it whistled past his head.
263
00:13:01,293 --> 00:13:03,168
[mimics gunshot, whooshing]
264
00:13:03,168 --> 00:13:05,209
It was frightening, but he didn't move.
265
00:13:05,209 --> 00:13:07,584
He could see Ernie loading the gun.
266
00:13:07,584 --> 00:13:10,751
"Last chance!" yelled Ernie.
"Next one's gonna get you!"
267
00:13:10,751 --> 00:13:11,668
Peter waited.
268
00:13:11,668 --> 00:13:13,459
He watched the boy among the buttercups
269
00:13:13,459 --> 00:13:15,959
in the meadow far below
with the other boy beside him.
270
00:13:15,959 --> 00:13:18,168
The gun came up
once again to the shoulder.
271
00:13:18,168 --> 00:13:21,543
This time he heard the crack
as the bullet hit him in the thigh.
272
00:13:21,543 --> 00:13:24,334
There was no pain,
but the force of it was devastating.
273
00:13:24,334 --> 00:13:27,126
Like someone had whacked him
with a sledgehammer,
274
00:13:27,126 --> 00:13:30,126
and it knocked both feet
off the branch he was standing on.
275
00:13:30,126 --> 00:13:32,168
He scrabbled with his hands to hang on.
276
00:13:32,168 --> 00:13:35,459
The small branch he was holding onto
bent over and split.
277
00:13:37,084 --> 00:13:37,918
[wood cracks]
278
00:13:44,626 --> 00:13:46,751
Some people, when they have taken too much
279
00:13:46,751 --> 00:13:49,084
and been driven
beyond the point of endurance,
280
00:13:49,084 --> 00:13:51,709
simply crumble and collapse and give up.
281
00:13:51,709 --> 00:13:53,959
Others, however, though they are not many,
282
00:13:53,959 --> 00:13:57,584
who will for some reason
always be unconquerable.
283
00:13:57,584 --> 00:14:00,959
You meet them in time of war
and also in time of peace.
284
00:14:00,959 --> 00:14:03,084
They have an indomitable spirit
285
00:14:03,084 --> 00:14:06,668
and nothing, neither pain
nor torture nor threat of death,
286
00:14:06,668 --> 00:14:08,876
will cause them to give up.
287
00:14:08,876 --> 00:14:11,418
Little Peter Watson was one of these.
288
00:14:11,418 --> 00:14:13,001
And as he fought and scrabbled
289
00:14:13,001 --> 00:14:16,084
to prevent himself
from falling out of the top of that tree,
290
00:14:16,084 --> 00:14:19,959
it came to him suddenly
that he was going to win.
291
00:14:19,959 --> 00:14:23,209
He looked up and saw a light
shining over the waters of the lake
292
00:14:23,209 --> 00:14:27,876
that was of such brilliance and beauty
he was unable to look away from it.
293
00:14:27,876 --> 00:14:31,209
The light was beckoning him,
drawing him on,
294
00:14:31,209 --> 00:14:35,209
and he dived towards the light
and spread his wings.
295
00:14:37,043 --> 00:14:39,959
Three different people
reported seeing a great white swan
296
00:14:39,959 --> 00:14:42,126
circling over the village that morning:
297
00:14:42,126 --> 00:14:43,209
a schoolteacher,
298
00:14:43,209 --> 00:14:46,084
a man replacing tiles
on the roof of the chemist's shop,
299
00:14:46,084 --> 00:14:48,501
and a boy playing in a nearby field.
300
00:14:48,501 --> 00:14:51,584
Mrs. Watson,
washing dishes in her kitchen sink,
301
00:14:51,584 --> 00:14:54,834
happened to glance up
through the window at the exact moment
302
00:14:54,834 --> 00:14:57,334
something huge and white
came crashing down
303
00:14:57,334 --> 00:14:59,959
onto the lawn in her back garden.
304
00:14:59,959 --> 00:15:01,709
She rushed outside.
305
00:15:01,709 --> 00:15:03,001
She dropped to her knees
306
00:15:03,001 --> 00:15:05,668
beside the small crumpled figure
of her only son.
307
00:15:06,543 --> 00:15:09,543
"My darling!" she cried. "My darling boy!
308
00:15:11,918 --> 00:15:13,168
"What's happened to you?"