Finest Explorer I ever met. Preston Whitmore. [Milo shakes Whitmore's foot] Pleasure to meet you, Milo. [crunches his foot, sighs] Join me in a little yoga?
Uh, no, no. Thank you. Did you really know my grandfather?
Oh, yeah. Met old Thaddeus back in Georgetown. [wriggle his foot] Class of '66. We stayed close friends 'til end of his days. [cracks his foot] He dragged me along on some of his danged fool expeditions. Thatch was crazy as a fruit bat, he was. He spoke of you often.
Funny. He, he never mentioned you.
Oh, he wouldn't. He knew how much I liked my privacy. [Pants down, grunting, cracking his legs] I keep a low profile.
Mr. Whitmore, should I be wondering why I'm here?
Look on that table. Ah! It's for you. [Milo sees a present from Thaddeus]
It's-- It's from… from my grandfather.
He brought that package to me years ago. He said if anything were to happen to him, I should give it to you when you were ready, whatever that means.
[Milo unwraps it]
It-- It can be. It's the Shepherd's Journal. Mr. Whitmore, this journal is the key to finding the lost continent of Atlantis!
Atlantis! Ha, ha, ha! I wasn't born yesterday, son.
No, no, no. Look-look at this. Coordinates. Clues. It's all right here.
Yeah, looks like gibberish to me.
That's because it's been written in a dialect that no longer exists.
So, it's useless.
No, no, just difficult. I've spent my whole life studying dead languages. It's not gibberish to me.
Ah, it's probably a fake.
Mr. Whitmore, my grandfather would have known if this were a fake. I would know. I will stake everything I own, everything that I believe in, that this is the genuine Shepherd's Journal.
All right, all right. So what do you want to do with it?
Well, I'll-I'll-I'll get funding. I mean, I'll-- The museum.
They'll never believe you.
I'll show them! I will make them believe.
Like you did today?
Yes! Well, no. H-How did you--? Forget about them. Okay? Never mind! I will find Atlantis on my own, even if I have to rent a rowboat!
Congratulations, Milo. This is exactly what I wanted to hear, but forget the rowboat, son. [pushes button; model ships rise onto his desk] We'll travel in style. It's all been arranged, the whole ball of wax.
Why?
For years, your granddad bent my ear with stories about that old book. I didn't buy it for a minute. So finally, I got fed up and I made a bet with the old coot. I said, "Thatch, if you ever actually find that so-called journal, not only will I finance the expedition, but I'll kiss you full on the mouth." [Shows Milo a photo with him and Milo's grandfather spitting after they've kissed each other] Imagine my embarrassment when he found the darn thing. Now, I know your grandfather's gone, Milo. God rest his soul, but Preston Whitmore is a man who keeps his word. [pointed to Thaddeus' photo] You hear that, Thatch?! I'm going to the afterlife with a clear conscience, [swings cane] by thunder! [chuckles and sighs] Your Grandpa was a great man. You probably don't realize how great. Those buffoons at the museum...dragged him down, made a laughingstock of him. He died a broken man. If I could bring back just one shred of proof...that'd be enough for me. Ah, Thatch. [Turns to Milo] What are standing around for? We got work to do.
But, Mr. Whitmore, you know in order to do what you're proposing, you're gonna need a crew.
Taken care of.
You'll need engineers and-and geologists.
[spreads photos]
Got' em all. The best of the best. Gaetan Moliere, geology and excavation. The man has a nose for dirt. Vincenzo Santorini, demolitions. Busted him out of a Turkish prison. Audrey Ramirez. Don't let her age fool you. She's forgotten more about engines than you or I will ever know. They're the same crew that brought the journal back.
Where was it?
All we need now is an expert of gibberish. So it's decision time. You can build on the foundation your grandfather left you, or you can go back to your boiler room.
This is for real.
Now you're catching on.
All right. Okay. I-I-I'll have to quit my job.
It's done. You resigned this afternoon.
I did?
Yep. Don't like to leave loose ends.
Uh, my apartment, I'm gonna have to give notice.
Taken care of.
My clothes?
Packed.
My books?
In storage.
My cat? [his cat, Fluffy, appears on his shoulder and meows] My gosh.
Your granddad had a saying: "Our lives are measured by the gifts we leave our children." This journal is his gift to you, Milo. Atlantis is waiting. What do you say?
[grabbing his coat excitedly]
I'm your man, Mr. Whitmore! [he puts his coat on backwards] You will not regret this! Boy, I am so excited, I-I-I-I-I can't even hold it in.
