SABRE pulling BARCLAY towards the shattered window. BARCLAY struggling along as best he can on his wounded leg.
1. SABRE: I pray you can swim, friend Barclay.
BARCLAY and SABRE at the window. The fire is intense. He’s grateful and scared.
2. BARCLAY: Better swim than cook, M’lady.
Exterior, stern view.
BARCLAY is diving out the window as SABRE swings out, to begin climbing up to the poop deck.