All language subtitles for The.Dig.2021.1080p.WEB.H264-NAISU.en

- Well, I expect it'll cloud over later on.
- Aye.

What's going on at Sutton Hoo, then?

There's a lady
who's got an excavating job.

-Ah, thank you kindly. Mind how you go.
-Thank you.

Mornin'. Mrs. Pretty, please.

Basil Brown.

Wait here.

- Should we take a look at them, then?
- Right.

Things like this
are usually done through museums.

Yes.
But when I approached Ipswich,

Mr. Reid Moir said
that, with the war coming,

they couldn't embark upon
any new ventures.

Well, they have their hands full
with a Roman villa.

- Yes. He said you were working on it.
- I am.

He told me you were a difficult man.

Did he, now?

Unorthodox… and untrained.

Hmm.
So that's his reference, is it?

Well, I'm… I'm not untrained.

I've been on dig
since I was old enough to hold a trowel.

My father taught me.

Perhaps Reid Moir
just wants to keep you for himself.

I don't know about that.

I've always had a curiosity
to see these here mounds.

- Henry VIII came here to dig.
- So I'm told.

Well, no record of what he found.

My husband and I bought this land,

with the hope of exploring
what was under there.

But… Well, best-laid plans.

What are they?
Would you hazard a guess?

Burial mounds, I expect.

We're standing
in someone's graveyard, I reckon.

Viking…

or maybe older.

Apparently, local girls used to lie down
on them in the hope of falling pregnant.

I've heard plenty of legends.

Is that why you want to dig, Mrs. Pretty?

Tales of buried treasure?

My interest
in archaeology began like yours,

when I was scarcely old enough
to hold a trowel.

My childhood home
was built on a Cistercian convent.

I helped my father excavate the apse.

That speaks, don't it?

The past.

You have rabbits, Mrs. Pretty.

Yes, I am aware of that.

Rabbits burrow.

They're bad for excavations.

I'd like to start with this one.

Ah, I wouldn't start
with this one, Mrs. Pretty,

not personally speaking.

- Why not?
- 'Cause that dips in the middle, see?

And the soil feels-- That's compacted.

Thieves used to sink shafts in.

Robber's flutes, they're called.

Anything they found
would've been melted down

and sold long ago.

I expect you might be better off with…

one of these.

But I have a feeling about this one.

Well, that's your money, Mrs. Pretty,

but I'd base your dig on evidence,

not feeling.

As for money,
would 1 pound, 15 shillings,

and 6 pence a week be acceptable?

Oh…

- No.
- I asked Reid Moir what he pays.

-That was his reply.
-Well, he don't pay enough.

All right.

I'm afraid that's all
I can reasonably afford to spend.

Right, then. Understood.

Robert, where did you get that gas mask?
Take it off.

-Sorry, I didn't realize you were--
-This is not a toy.

Robert, this is Mr. Brown.

- Hello there, young man.
- Robert Pretty. How do you do?

Who's coming after you?

- Captain Laska and his gangsters.
- Oh!

- Mr. Brown is an archaeologist.
- Well, I'm an excavator.

- You've come to dig up the mounds?
- Well…

I'm afraid not. Uh, not today.

Excuse me.

- Good luck with your gangsters, Robert.
- Thank you.

And you, with your dig, ma'am.

Ah, blast.

-Mr. Brown?
-Yes?

Billy Lyons. Uh, uh, from Mrs. Pretty.

All right.

Hmm.

Tell her Monday, 8:00 sharp.

I won't work
for less than two pound a week.

And it's too far to bike,
if you want a day's digging.

You could lodge with the Lyonses
in the coach house.

Mr. Lyons is my chauffeur,

and Mrs. Lyons
is in charge of the kitchen.

- Well, I'll need help.
- I could let you have one man.

Two would be better.

I'm glad we could come
to an arrangement after all, Mr. Brown.

John Jacobs and Mr. Spooner
are bringing the shepherd's hut.

I thought it might be useful
in case of inclement weather.

Oh, that's very considerate.

My son Robert
is keen to assist you in any way.

If you find his presence irksome--

Oh, no, no, no. He can come.

You'll start with this one?

Yeah.

I reckon we can forget
that larger mound, Mrs. Pretty.

This one here,
that's where we'll find something.

Well, shan't hold you up.

Thank you kindly.

If you ask me, the man should leave
Mrs. Pretty's mounds well alone.

- Thank you, ma'am.
- Great, dear. Thank you.

Darling, please be gentle.
You'll knock me down.

I'm sorry. Mr. Brown says to come.

- Now?
- Yes.

Well, thank you for the message.

Well, it looks like the kind of tray
you get at a butcher's.

And there's some blackness here,
maybe indicating a fire was made.

Who are those men?

They're from the Ipswich Museum.
Mr. Reid Moir telephoned me.

He wanted to see how things
were progressing, so I invited him.

Mrs. Pretty,
this is Guy Maynard, our new curator.

- How do you do?
- Hello.

Hello, Brown.

Maynard. Can I borrow you,
please, for this here corner?

Jolly good.

One.

- You have it? Two.
- Yeah.

Three! Blast.

Is that the sum of your labors?

Excuse me.

I must urge you, Mrs. Pretty,
to support our Roman villa.

War is looming.

All hands are on deck
to excavate before hostilities begin.

And so,
we must ask you to return Mr. Brown.

I'd like him to finish what he's started.

We may have found
the largest Roman villa

north of Felixstowe.

It's of far greater import,
if… if you'll forgive me, than this…

minor venture.

-Then the choice is Mr. Brown's.
-Excuse me.

Time had altered that piece of wood

to compacted sand.

I didn't guess its age correctly.

I speculated Viking,
but I think that's older.

-Anglo-Saxon.
-That's most unlikely, Brown.

We should-- We need you back at the villa.
That's what I'm here to say, and…

and Mrs. Pretty has released you.

I have said it is your choice.

Well, then I'll stay.

Thank you kindly, ma'am.

Excuse me.

Now, look here, Brown.

You've made your point.
You can have two pounds a week.

We'll give you a few days
to finish off here,

and then,
as we're the only museum in the area,

I'd carefully consider
where your future lies.

Understood.

Mr. Brown's been telling us
all sorts of things.

For instance,
what's the most important part

of an archaeologist's body?

I don't know.

His nose.

If there's something there,
he'll know it by the smell.

You're going to see your father
this afternoon?

I… I'm afraid I'm needed here.

-Um, please, may I get down?
-If you're quite sure you've finished.

Boiled beef…

on a hot day like this is unlikely
to agree with anyone, Mrs. Lyons.

It was exactly like last time.

Mrs. Pretty, you produce
all this acid because you're a worrier.

We've spoken on this subject before.

You must learn to stop worrying.

Otherwise, you'll give yourself an ulcer.

- Well… if that's what you think.
- Mm-hmm.

Oh, you don't wanna be down there,
Mrs. Pretty. That ain't safe.

Spooner and John Jacobs
are making supports.

We can't continue without them now.

I was reading Howard Carter's account

of his excavation
of the tomb of Tutankhamun.

Oh?

He stood at the threshold
of the burial chamber,

the first man to do so for 3,000 years,

and he saw finger marks
still on the paint.

He say, "Time lost its meaning."

It occurs to me
that you might unearth human remains.

Yeah, that's possible.

We're digging down to meet the dead.

Disinterring them, in fact.

There's always coroner's inquests
when remains are found.

The dead still get that courtesy,
no matter how many centuries they've lain.

We can't dig down into the earth
without considering that--

Oh!

Brown?

Mr. Brown?

Spooner! Jacob! Get help!

There! There! There!

Come on, Basil!

Careful with his head.

Mr. Brown! Mr. Brown!

Mr. Brown!

Mr. Brown?

- That's it.
- That's it.

Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown.

You're all right now.
You're all right. You're all right.

You're all right.

Into the library, Grateley.
Lay him on the sofa.

Did you see something?

See something?

When you were gone.

Oh…

Something did come into my head.

What was it?

My, uh… my grandfather.

I have his name.

Basil Brown.

Farming man.

Taught me everything I know
about Suffolk soil.

And you saw him?

Oh, I saw nothing at all.
I was just…

I just thought of him.

Well… perhaps he saw you.

-Excuse me.
-Mr. Brown, are you all right?

Mr. Brown!

Mr. Brown, you have to rest!

See, Mrs. Pretty…
this one is the one you like.

It's the one you wanted me to start on.
It's oval.

Like a hog's back.

-See? All the others, circular.
-Yes.

Now,
this land's been plowed for 1,000 year.

Now, supposing whoever plowed here…

gradually knocked a bit off.

So, by the time robbers come along,

they'd have sunk the flute
into what they thought was the center.

- But it might not have been.
- That's right.

East to west, that's my feeling.

You say the word…

…and I'll dig.

My plane crashed
into the Arctic waste, you see.

And when I woke up, 500 years had passed.

- So, now I'm stuck in the 25th century.
- What's that like, then?

Well,
the Earth is controlled by Killer Kane,

who's an extremely evil man.

Like Hitler?

Yes, with an even worse mustache.

Did the people

who made these burial mounds
have mustaches?

And beards.

They were a very beardy lot.

Not like them there Romans.
Now, they liked the close shave.

The Vikings and the space pilots
are the same, really, aren't they?

They explore new lands
and have battles in ships.

Yeah, when you put it like that,
I suppose they might be the same.

They come over all the time.
There's an RAF base nearby.

Would you like to fly, Mr. Brown?

Oh, but I do.

All over the cosmos,
every time I look through my telescope.

You… You have a telescope?

- I do.
- Did you bring it with you?

I did.

Well, will you show me?

I might.

Cor! He likes to natter, he does.

What was all that about space travel?

Mr. Brown had an awful lot of books.

Came on his bike
with a great parcel of them.

Sloan says some are in Norwegian.

Shall we try the green silk?

- It's an old favorite, isn't it?
- No.

The velvet with the lace.

Mrs. Lyons hopes it will agree.

How's your leg, Mr. Grateley?

Oh, much better, ma'am.
Thank you for inquiring.

Would you like the wireless?

Yes, please.

…the Air Guard
under the age of 32

are now being asked to stand by

for further training
as RAF pilots or crew.

She's only been here 12 year.

- Mm-hmm.
- Came down from Cheshire.

Then she married the colonel.

He first met with Edith
when she was still at school.

And on his 17th birthday,
he asked her to marry him.

- She turned him down.
- Mm.

She say
she can't possibly leave her father.

She cared for her father
another 13 year, until he died.

After 13 years.

She finally accepted
the colonel's proposal.

He been asking every year on her birthday.

On her birthday.

Just after they had Robert…

her husband went and died too.

Mm-hmm.

Imagine that.

Do any of you want to look through this?

- I thought we'd sit down on that.
- You have a go.

That's right.

I'm gonna follow you back home.

Wait! Wait, for Christ's sake!

Come on.

Maynard! Maynard!

They found an iron rivet
at the burial mound at Snape, didn't they?

Snape?
Basil, what have you found?

My goodness, Basil.

- Right. Any joy, Basil?
- Coming along together.

Mr. Spooner, will you bring
my tape measure from the hut?

One of you best get Mrs. Pretty down here.

- She's gone up to London.
- She what? How long?

London, with Robert.
Couple of days.

Blast.

Right, boys. Here we go. Come on together.

Better have something to show
Mrs. Pretty when she get back.

And the crystal glasses!

No, no, no. Side door, please.

-Mrs. Pretty back from London yet?
-Mrs. Pretty's about to dine.

I told you it was urgent.

Mr. Brown, I'm sure
you wouldn't like to interfere with--

It's all right, Mr. Grateley.

- Is it Mr. Brown?
- Yes, darling. Darling

I think you'd better come and see.

That's a ship.

How do you mean, a ship?

Oh, well, that's a ship
that's been buried in the mound.

Why would anyone want to bury a ship?

Well,
I expect because that's a grave.

Whose grave?

Well, I'd expect
this is a grave of a… a great man.

A warrior…

or a king.

They must have pulled his ship all the way
up that there hill from the river.

Now, they'd have put it on ropes,
and they'd have hauled it over logs.

Men, horses. It must have taken
hundreds of 'em.

I don't expect them to go
to all this trouble for any little squirt.

Can you imagine
the send-off they'd be giving him?

The songs they'd be singing.

They'd have drunk Mr. Spooner
under the table.

Vikings?

Well, I… I think that's older.

Maynard disagrees,
but I think it's Anglo-Saxon.

Now, this is your doing, John Jacobs,
'cause you found the first rivet.

That's right, Mrs. Pretty. He did.

Congratulations, Mr. Brown.

Well, you thought
there was something, didn't you?

I had my feeling.

That you did, Mrs. Pretty. That you did.

Oh, John.

- Congratulations, Mr. Spooner.
- Thank you, ma'am.

We couldn't have done it
without this young man here.

Psst.

Robert, a ship!

Thank you. Mr. Brown.

Well,
there's a lot of earth to… to shift now.

But who knows?

I'm pretty sure it continues further.

Evening.

Evening.

Do you realize what this means?

It's going to change everything
for Ipswich.

We'll be the envy
of every museum in the country.

- You're gonna get wet, Mrs. Pretty.
- I'm afraid I already am.

Mr. Reid Moir has kindly offered
to take charge of the dig.

I turned his generous offer down.

- You didn't.
- I did.

What did he say?

He said I couldn't keep it to myself,
which is true.

I bet he blew his gasket.

In the meantime, I've asked my cousin,
Rory Lomax, to come.

- Right.
- I can see you need another pair of hands.

He's only an amateur,
but then, so is Mr. Reid Moir.

-Mrs. Pretty, you better go in the shed.
-Oh, yes.

- You're gonna get very wet here.
- I will.

I wanted to thank you
for your patience with Robert.

He can hardly wait to see you
in the mornings.

Well, keeps me on me toes,
having him around.

Do you have children?

No, uh, we, uh…

No.

The servants tell me
you've studied everything,

from Latin to geology.

Well, a little education
is a dangerous thing.

Hmm.
Apparently, you've written a book.

I have.

A guide to astronomical maps and charts,

to make them accessible to ordinary men.

I left school when I was 12.

Always had a hunger to study.

I got a place
at London University.

My father wouldn't hear of it.

Would you have dinner with me?

Well… thank you. Yes.

Evening, Vera.

Surprise for you, Basil, in your room.

Right.

May.

I brought you some fresh shirts.

About time, I say.

-Are you pleased to see me?
-Of course I am.

- You didn't know I was coming, did you?
- No. No, I didn't.

I did tell you.

In my last letter.

Oh,
I was saving them for the weekend.

I've been working every hour.
You know what I'm like.

Yes… I do.

I'm very busy.

- It looks like it. Nowhere to sit in here.
- There's a lot going on here.

-What's that?
-I said there's nowhere to sit down.

Yeah. Sorry about that.
It's all-- So much going on.

You got something to show me?
I think you have.

I can see it in your eyes.

I'm not saying anything.

There's Mr. Brown with a woman.

I suppose it's his wife.
You know, she writes to him every day.

Come in.

Mr. Brown sends his apologies, ma'am.

That's all. Thank you, Ellen.

A man could dig the earth
his whole life through

and not find anything
like I've discovered here.

- She's beautiful, all right.
- Yeah, she's beautiful.

You'll have to watch your back
with a thing like this.

What do you mean?

Everyone's gonna want a piece
of this here ship, and this is your find.

Oh, May…

Don't let Ipswich Museum
take your glory.

- He's not gonna take--
- Or that lady at the manor.

- She should be upping your wages again.
- She's supportive.

- You asked?
- I ain't gonna ask for more.

Well, she's very, very gracious,
Mrs. Pretty.

Your heart's lost
to this Viking maiden, I can tell.

Innit?

Ah, May, you sure you don't want
to stay the night?

I'll miss my lift back.

Right, yeah, um…

Well, thanks for coming, May.

I do miss you.

-I've been reading your books for company.
-You haven't.

I have.

Hell,
it's not much company, is it?

- No, they're hard work, I tell you.
- They are.

Right. Well,
it's good of you to bring my shirts.

Yeah.

All right.

I'll read them letters tonight.

- Bye, then.
- Bye.

Blast!

Ah!

- Let me help.
- Right.

Right, then.
Get around that side and take this tarp.

That's… That's right. That's right.
There's a stake there behind you.

Pull it hard.

Where in God's name
did you come from?

I rode, actually,

on my motorbike from Ipswich.

I'm Rory Lomax.

Aye. Did Reid Moir send you?

From the museum?

I'm Edith Pretty's cousin.

She telephoned, asked me to come.

-Said you needed an extra pair of hands.
-All right.

I pointed out my general lack of skill,
but she was undeterred.

Right. Well…

no doubt you'll hear
that my name is Brown. Basil Brown.

Good to meet you.

Now,
it's gonna be raining for a while,

so go on and take a seat.

I expect you'd, uh, be wet,
coming from Ipswich on a motorbike.

- I was, rather.
- Yeah.

- Just caught me at the end.
- Right.

Well, I'll light the stove.
Would you like some tea?

Yes, please.

I think we may have found, um,
an old, uh, Anglo-Saxon ship.

When this rain clears tomorrow,
maybe you can see what we're doing.

-Yeah?
-How very exciting.

Yeah, it's all right.

- Not gonna cover it.
- Get the second tarp.

- Pass me the hammer, please.
- Right.

All right, then.

Lift up.

That's right.

Rory!

Hello, Spud.

Arrived in the night.
Didn't want to wake you.

Where's your mother?

Oh, she's gone to London.

Who knows
if we'll still be alive in a year?

The yellow and green balls denote gas.

Red denotes high explosives.

Red stripes are incendiary bombs.

If you are caught on the streets
during an air raid,

you must know the appropriate response
to each form of attack.

No, don't throw them about!

I was rushing
to get here on time.

Might that have affected the results?

Possibly, but the,
uh, underlying condition is there.

The pneumatic fever
you had as a child, it, uh,

damaged the valves of your heart.

Irreparably, I'm afraid.

Another attack
is likely to be much… more serious.

Possibly even fatal.

- Is there nothing else that can be done?
- I'm sorry. I… I…

I wish I had better news.

Mr. Reid Moir is here, ma'am,
with some other gentlemen.

They wouldn't stop to give me their names.

Then they're trespassing. Where are they?

-On their way to the mounds.
-Fetch them, quickly.

- Right.
- Lyons?

Now, I've been reading up
about the Oseberg Ship.

That's a Viking ship they found in Norway.

There was a burial chamber
in the center, roofed.

It's a bit like we imagine Noah's Ark.

Course, any roof here
would have caved in long ago.

See, this line here.

The ground is higher,
but this soil is darker.

So you think there's something beneath?

Well, we may know by the end of today.

Ye gods!

This is incredible!

We at the Ipswich Museum
pride ourselves on our work,

and I… I think you'll agree
that it's rock solid.

- You… You need to stop there.
- I beg your pardon?

This is a very delicate site,
and it ain't safe.

Uh, not for a man of your size.

Is this your work?

Uh, yes. I'm Basil Brown, excavator.

Well, Basil Brown, excavator…

I am Charles Phillips, archaeologist,

and I'm here to tell you that,

as this is a find of national interest,

the British Museum will be taking charge.

Your work…

looks, thankfully, decent,

but your excavating service
is no longer required.

Am… Am I to understand
that you will be personally taking over?

Grimes,
I have never seen anything like it.

-Quite, sir.
-Brailesford.

- Sir.
- Cancel everything I've got.

Find out who's free. We need Piggott.

- Find us lodgings, as near as you can.
- Yes, sir.

That dark soil in the middle,
C.W., looks very promising.

You men, finish up,
and don't move another pebble!

Excuse me, Mr. Phillips.

I'm not employed by you.

I'm employed by Mrs. Pretty,

and I'll keep on working
until she tells me different.

An ad hoc team from a provincial museum
cannot be left in charge.

Mrs. Pretty must see that.

John, a minute is all I need.
I… I know she'll want to hear this.

-All right, all right. Wait here.
-Right.

She'll see you tomorrow morning
at 10:30.

She must know what I found.

- Don't push it, old boy!
- She must know!

John!

- Is he gone, Mr. Grateley?
- It's not Grateley.

I… I'm sorry for disturbing you,
but I believe…

we may have found
a burial chamber in the ship.

- Does Mr. Phillips know?
- I don't work for Mr. Phillips.

What are your wishes?

I, uh… He just informed me that,
by order of the Ministry of Works,

the site must be placed under his control.

Well, uh…

…that's that, then.

Well, I…
I can carry on for one more day…

if that's what you'd like.

Are… Are you poorly, Mrs. Pretty?

Um…

Perhaps you might, um…

might ring the bell for me.

Right.

He's got no right to dictate to you.

This ship's only appearing because of you.

Don't forget why you wanted it begun.

Now, you said that was a feeling.

Your feeling is right.

- Mr. Brown seems to have found his way in.
- Mr. Brown.

All right.

Is there anything
I could bring you?

Fetch Ellen for me, please.

Mrs. Pretty is keen to keep you on,

so we'll make good use of you.

Your primary task
will be to keep the site in order.

So, I want the tumulus dug back
to an area of four feet on either side,

and I want those spoil heaps removed.

From now on,

you're not to set foot in the body
of the ship without my express permission.

Carry on.

Are you gonna put up with that, Basil?

Hello, Mr. Brown.

-My mother's got her heartburn.
-Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

She has to have peace and quiet.
I made her this.

- Well, that's a very fine rocket.
- Where are you going?

Oh, I… Oh, I have to go home now.

When will you be back?

Well, uh… I'm sorry, Robert. I…

I am.

Uh, but, Mr. Brown…

Mr. Brown!

- Mr. Brown!
- It seems I'm out of a job.

Phillips won't let us in his ship.

His ship? Really?

I thought I might take some photographs.
It could make a useful record.

-Would you mind?
-Not at all.

As long as they're not of me.

Can't say I blame Brown.

Such a decent man
doesn't deserve Phillips.

Blame him?

Well, he left this morning.
Didn't you know?

Where's Robert?

You don't have another job?

I'll write to Maynard,
and he'll give me something.

Did you tell Mrs. Pretty you were leaving?

I thought I'd let her work it out herself.

And that's the thanks she gets

for giving you the opportunity
in the first place?

Mark my words, May,
I won't receive any credit.

- I won't even be a footnote.
- Is that why you took the job?

-For credit?
-How can I stay on?

Is that why you've been digging
your whole life for barely enough

to cover our rent?

No, May. I do it 'cause I'm good at it.

'Cause that's what my father taught me,
and what his father taught him.

'Cause you can show me a handful of soil
from anywhere in Suffolk,

and I can pretty much tell you
whose land it's from.

There you go.

Excuse me.
Do you know Basil Brown?

-Do you know where he lives?
-Yes, I know Basil.

He lives on a farm outside of the village.
Carry on that way.

Thank you so much.

I found that ship.

I may not be a fellow at Cambridge,
but I worked out what was down there.

And Jacobs and Spooner, too,
and nobody'll remember that.

You don't know that.

And if you're not around
to see it to the end,

there's even less chance.

You always told me your work
isn't about the past or even the present.

It's for the future.

So that the next generations
can know where they came from.

The line
that joins them to their forebears.

Isn't that what you always say?

Yeah, something like that.

Why else would the lot of you
be playing in the dirt

while the rest of the country
prepares for war?

Because that means something, innit?

Something that'll last longer
than whatever damn war we're heading into.

Good hell.

That's Robert.

Robert?

Robert!

Mr. Brown!

Robert, have you cycled all this way?

You promised.

May! May!

You said you'd show me the cosmos.
You promised.

- Good heavens! Who have we here?
- This is Robert Pretty.

Robert, I'm Mrs. Brown.

I bet you have a rare thirst
after that long ride, don't you?

- Mm-hmm.
- Come you here.

- Let's get you a cup of milk.
- That's a long way.

Does your mother know you're here, Robert?

- How'd you find your way?
- She know you cycled?

- Should I take your bike for you?
- Yes, please.

I better find a telephone, May.
Call Mrs. Pretty.

Ah.

- Thank you.
- He's all right.

- He's inside. Uh, come this way.
- Thank you.

-We were obviously very worried.
-Yes. He's… He's…

Uh, this is May, my wife.

-Mrs. Pretty.
-Thank you very much.

He's been no trouble. A lovely boy.

Mrs. Brown has a music box from Whitby

covered in all manner of shells.

Would you like to see?

Uh, no.
We've imposed on your kindness enough.

What were you thinking?

You could have been lost or killed.

- Robert… what were you thinking?
- I'm sorry, Mother.

Uh, Robert came to remind me
of a promise that I made.

I said I'd show him the stars
through my telescope.

Didn't I?

Then you're returning?

I am. Yes.

Thank you.

Morning!

Morning.

Mr. Grimes. I've been, uh… taking notes.

-Ah!
-If they be of any use.

Why, they'd save me days.

- You must have suspected what was here.
- Well, you've made good progress.

As did you.

Thank you kindly.

- It's fine work, Mr. Brown.
- Yeah. Well, we made a start.

- Phillips.
- Our excavator has returned.

Morning.

There's a sign
in the bottom of the ship

that there could be an intact chamber.

Tremendously exciting.

What about events
in the wider world, C.W.?

How do you think it will affect us?

Judging by last night's news…

I think we could be at war
in a matter of weeks,

and every excavation
in the land will stop.

So, it's up to us.

- Oh, good lord.
- Gosh.

- Jim! Billy Grimes!
- Stuart!

- How the devil are you?
- Very well.

-This is my wife, Margaret.
-Peggy.

Mrs. Piggott,
a pleasure to meet you.

Mr. Phillips, I-- um,
I wanted to say how pleased I was

that you specifically asked
for me to come.

I know Stuart sent you my paper
on Bosnian Lake villagers.

It was awfully good of you to read it.

Ah, yes. Um, very stimulating.

I hope
I'll be able to repay your faith in me.

I have no doubt.

It's just that I haven't done
much actual fieldwork yet.

Uh, so I wouldn't want you to think
I'm more experienced than I really am.

Ah, you have all the key attributes.

Do I?

- This ship is very delicate.
- Mm-hmm.

One could say, it,
um, scarcely exists at all.

Too much weight, it disintegrates.

You're probably less than nine stone,
so I'll supervise from here

while you light things
get on with the digging.

Am I to understand
you only asked for me because of my size?

Uh, lucky guess, actually.

Yeah, thank God
Piggott didn't marry a piglet.

Carry on!

- How does it look to you?
- Sir?

What have you got there?

All right, then.

- First round's on me, chaps!
- Very nice of you.

Do they not have a… a double?

Sorry, darling, no.
This is fine, though, isn't it?

We don't…
We don't want to start by making a fuss.

Oh, no. Of course not.

We're so lucky to be part of this.

Yes.

- Yes, it's going to be amazing.
- Mm.

Would you prefer this bed…

or… or… or that one?

I'll… I'll take this one, shall I?

You need to find a star
and identify its direction of travel.

- Good evening, gentlemen.
- Good evening, Mrs. Pretty.

- Hello, Mother.
- Hello, darling.

Ah!

Do space pilots navigate using the stars?

Oh, most certainly, they do.

Ten more minutes, Commander. Then, bed.

I see a star.

All right.

- Oh, God!
- What's going on?

- It just gave way.
- Get her off there!

-Piggott, get her off!
-Oh, I'm so sorry!

- I didn't mean to damage anything.
- Oh, you…

- What you got, Brailesford?
- You all right?

Sort of rusted lumps.

Come on, man.
Where's your training?

Uh, an amorphous mass
of corroded objects, sir.

You, get your camera down there.
Photograph it.

That's… That's very hot in the full sun.

Oh, I'm fine. Thank you.

Watch your step there.
This could well be our chamber.

Some barley water, Mrs. Piggott?

- Thank you. So clumsy.
- Oh, not at all.

Oh.

- That's a very lovely skirt.
- Oh.

Completely useless.
I don't have anything more suitable.

-We came straight from our holiday.
-Did you really?

- Yes.
- Well, come to the house.

Let's see what we can find.

Is Mrs. Pretty still poorly?

She says she's perfectly fine, but…

…that's typical of her.

Damn this weather.

Losing a whole day.

So little time before world events…

confound us.

It's a race, an absolute race.

Then you are wasting
the talents of Mr. Brown.

Well, that's an excellent idea.

Stuart couldn't fault his work.
Could he not be unearthing the stern?

Mr. Brown isn't qualified.

Well, that's just snobbery,
isn't it, Mr. Phillips?

Brown!

Brown!

Brown, come here, man!

Oh my God, Margaret.

Sorry. I forgot to lock the door.

No, you see,
we… we… we share that bathroom

with… with four other rooms,
and, you know, I could have been anyone.

Um, I could've been Grimes or Phillips.

But you're not. You're my husband.

Yes,
but how… how do you think I'd feel

if… if one of them saw you in that state?

Oh! In what state?

In this state?

Christ, I-- Stop.

You should be more careful. It's…

You know, now, after… after waiting eons,
I shall… I shall go and have my bath.

- Mr. Spooner.
- Right.

- Morning, Mr. Piggott.
- C.W.

- You might have woken me.
- I didn't like to.

You made me appear late.

Careful, Stuart.
You've got a delicate line now, man.

-Very delicate.
-You ready?

- Yeah.
- Just a moment.

You have to be very careful now.
No cavalier lifting.

- Very gently.
- Yes, sir.

On my count. One, two, three.

And we do it this way.

Don't move.

Piggott, look.

Where did you find it, darling?
You clever girl.

Phillips!

-Look at this, sir.
-Look. Look!

- Ah, good Lord.
- His face!

Phillips.

- Mrs. Pretty, there's more.
- And here. And here too.

There's much more.

Could you both, uh,
cast your eyes on this, please?

I, uh, found it down between the strikes.

I believe that's a Merovingian tremissis.

- Late 6th century.
- Can't be.

Viking East Anglia didn't have
a coin-based economy till the 9th century.

Well,
I think that the ship is older.

Mr. Brown has always said so.

This is Anglo-Saxon.

Piggott! Grimes!

It's Dark Age, by Jupiter!

Sixth century!

This changes everything.

These people
were not just marauding barterers.

They had culture!

They had art!

They had money!

Well, Vikings are out the window.

- C.W., look.
- God's sake.

Oh, good God.

Brown has just shown me
a Merovingian tremissis.

That's Anglo-Saxon.

It's incredible!

Hello.

Are you camping out here?

No. That's where my cousin Rory sleeps.

Is he not allowed indoors?

No, he…
he thinks the house is too hot.

- I can imagine.
- He's going to join the RAF.

-Is he?
-They're sending his papers any day.

He's going to get his wings.

Huh.

Well done, everybody,
on a splendid effort.

Brailesford, Piggott,

if you'll start loading the gold
into the car,

we'll get it
straight to the British Museum.

I beg your pardon?

Well, it's the obvious place for it,
Mrs. Pretty.

London is preparing for air raids.

The British Museum is currently
being emptied of its treasures, isn't it?

Uh, yes,
but, um, it… it'll go to the lab.

This treasure came
from someone's grave.

There'll be an inquest, as you know,
and its fate will be decided there.

Until then, Mr. Brown…

as the finder of this magnificent ship,

would you please take the treasure
up to the house?

Uh, yes, Mrs. Pretty.

Thank you all very much.

Right, uh, gentlemen,
I'll need some assistance. Mr. Lomax?

This is most irregular.

It all belongs to Mrs. Pretty,
doesn't it?

It's found on her land.

Well, surely,
the inquest will decide

whether the treasure
belongs to Mrs. Pretty or the Crown.

Piggott, do you want
this treasure to go to the Ipswich Museum?

Am I doing the right thing?

It's someone's grave.

No, that's…
that's life what's revealed.

And that's why we dig.

Just in here.
I think that's best.

They're like emissaries
from another world.

I used to camp
with Robert's father, you see.

I remember him telling me the calls
of all the birds.

Now, whenever I hear nightingales,
I think of these woods.

- Are there nightingales?
- Haven't you heard them?

No.

Never heard a nightingale at all.
Only on the wireless.

There's a wonderful cellist
called Beatrice Harrison.

In the summer evenings,
she used to practice in the garden, and…

one night, she was playing a scale,
and a… a nightingale joined in.

At first, she couldn't believe it.
She started playing a sonata,

and the nightingale accompanied her.

- Really?
- Mm-hmm. Yes.

Yes. It happened again
the next night and next night.

Miss Harrison was so excited about it,

she went to the BBC
and told them all about it.

And?

So, a few evenings later,

the BBC came
and put their recording equipment

in Miss Harrison's garden.

She started to play,
and they waited and, um, waited…

and…

and at last,
the nightingale began to sing.

Went on for about 15 minutes…

rising and falling with the cello.

No.

-Yes.
-Wow.

I know. Hmm.

But…
the really extraordinary thing is that…

other people who'd been listening
to the broadcast in their gardens

reported that other nightingales
also started to sing.

Well, that's wonderful.

Yes, it was. It was wonderful.

Margaret!

- Come on!
- All right. Hmm.

Well… good night.

I shall listen out
for cellos in the woods.

"Cellos."

- Here we are, chaps.
- All right.

Well,
we are unburying a legend.

-Beowulf.
-Arthur, King of the Britons.

Cheers.

Talk about Dark Ages.
I can hardly see my pint.

What actually is that?

It's the,
uh, trial blackouts, C.W.

Ah.

So Germans will be coming by air
this time, will they?

Last time, they came by the river.

In AD 600.

You know, I'm…
It's been a big day. I'm quite done in.

Um, will you all excuse me?

-Aw.
-Well done, Mrs. P, on a marvelous find.

Yes.
Cheers to your clever wife!

-Yeah. No, I'll come with you, darling.
-No.

No, no. Um, surely you want to celebrate.

-Stay for another, Piggott.
-My round. Set them up again, would you?

I say, C.W., ask him
if he'll take a Merovingian tremissis.

…the press campaign,

the menacing statements of the statesmen
leading the policy of Germany,

the systematic provocation
of frontier incidents,

and finally,
the constantly increasing concentrations

of mobilized armed forces

at the Polish frontiers
constitute an obvious proof of this.

A Labour deputation called on
the Prime Minister last night,

requesting the immediate evacuation
of women, children, and cripples

as precaution
against the sudden outbreak of war.

He'll find Buck Rogers
if anybody can.

Get the guards, you fools!

If they get away, I'll put every man
of you in the robot battalion!

Not yet.

Not yet.

Darling, C.W. wants me to take
some of the corroded iron to the lab.

Uh, we think it might be fragmented armor,

and I… I badly want
to start cleaning it up. So…

Am I to come with you?

No, because C.W. needs
all the hands he can get here, so, uh…

And he's very pleased with you.

- Is he?
- Mm.

Uh, so I'm taking Brailesford
because the lab's really his thing.

-You know.
-Ah. Oh.

You're going to have
to be a brick about it, Margaret.

Peggy.

My name's Peggy.

I'll… I'll…
I'll miss you very much, Peggy.

Sorry to take him away from you.

It was very kind of you
to invite me, Mrs. Pretty.

You can't possibly stay
in that pub without your husband.

Mr. Phillips
would bore you quite to death.

Um, have you developed any
of your photographs yet, Mr. Lomax?

I've made a start. I've got a mountain
to do, and I better get through them.

I could get my papers any day.

Rory has been accepted into the RAF.

Should I congratulate you?

I don't know. Cousin Edith didn't.

This looks delicious.

Bon appétit.

Don't be too long, now, darling.
It's late.

And now,
that's a partial eclipse of the moon.

And don't run.

Oh, dear.

Wait for us.

- Isn't that a bad omen?
- Well, they used to think so.

It does make you feel
the gods are angry.

The people who buried that ship…

What did they believe?

Well… they were sailing somewhere,
weren't they?

Down to the underworld or up to the stars.

Wherever we go when we die.

So we're rather coming
to the dregs, aren't we?

The coroner has been in touch.

An inquest has been called for Friday,
and your presence is required.

There's been quite
a lot of public interest in our ship.

So afterwards,
I've invited everyone to come and see it.

Uh… everyone?

The villagers are coming
and my friends from the county.

May I remind you
just how fragile this site is?

Please feel free
to invite your families and friends.

Mrs. Pretty…

Good God.

Robert?

Don't let anyone swim!
It's tidal. The current is fierce!

Darling.

They train these boys
on rickety planes from the Great War.

My husband said,
"If you want your son to die,

then let him join the Air Force."

They say
this war will be fought in the air.

What happened, Mother?

Is he all right?

-I must get Robert up to the house.
-Shall I take him for you?

-He won't want to go.
-Uh, I'll ask him to look after me.

Thank you.

Robert!

- Yes?
- I… I feel rather faint.

Oh, well, when I feel faint,
I have a good lie-down

and a big glass of water.

- Do you?
- And that does the trick.

That's what I need.

- Will you take my hand?
- Sure.

His name was David Atkinson.
It was his second solo flight.

Police and the coroner are here.
I brought you some dry things.

I've got some coffee
back at my tent.

Would you like some?

My father drowned…

on a holiday in Cornwall.

He was taken by the current.

- I'm sorry.
- Oh, no.

It was a long time ago.

He had epilepsy.

So, what drew you to photography?

Oh, I suppose it's, um…

It's just a way
of trying to fix things as they…

as they go past.

- Mm.
- Keep what's vital from being lost.

My father once gave me an old coin…

and he said it was
from the time of Caesar Augustus.

And I knew the story from the Bible
where Jesus showed the disciples a coin.

"Render unto Caesar
the things that are Caesar's."

Yes.

And I…

…well, I… I became convinced
that the coin I had

was the one that Jesus
had actually shown the disciples.

I used to marvel that I could hold it.

What happened to your coin?

Oh…

Uh…

I wear it.

I thought it might bring me luck.

And has it?

If 1,000 years…

were to pass in an instant…

what would be left of us?

This.

And parts of your watch.

Torch.

Fragments of the mug.

But every last scrap
of you and I would… disappear.

Listen.

What?

The pilot died, didn't he?

Yes, darling.

Wait.

Rory won't die, will he?

I'm sorry.

No.

You won't die?

Mrs. Pretty?

- Are you unwell?
- I've, um…

-Perhaps you might lead me to my room.
-Yes, of course. Of course.

Are you all right?

Yes! Yes.

- Should I call a doctor?
- No, no, no. It's…

It's heartburn. It's…

No, I don't want to wake him.

Mrs. Pretty, are you all right?

I'm such a bore.

Would you mind…
Would you mind getting me some milk?

- Yes.
- Thank you.

- Are you sure?
- Yes, thank you.

- Oh.
- Robert! Darling…

Oh! Robert.

You all right?

Robert?

I know she's sick. I know it!
There's nothing I can do!

Why is there nothing I can do?
I should be able to make her better.

You do. You do make her better.

No, she's worse. She is, I can see it!

She is.

When… When my father died…

Mm.

…everyone said
I had to look after my mother.

And I failed.

I failed.

Robert…

…we all fail.

Every day.

There are some things
we just can't succeed at…

no matter how hard we try.

I know it's not what you want to hear.

I… I'm stronger than she thinks I am.

I know. Perhaps you'll show her.

Now…

we should get you inside, Robert.

Come on.

I think it's time for your bed, you know.
Come on, then.

Apparently,
there's a whole convoy

of hacks on the way.

I already have some joker
from the Sunday Mirror asking me

if the ship is still seaworthy.

So, what happens to the treasure?
That's the real question.

Germany has invaded Poland…

Have you seen my wife?

…and has bombed many towns.

Orders completing the mobilization
of the Navy, Army, and Air Force

were signed by the King at a meeting
this afternoon of the privy council.

The King and Queen decided...

Well.

Here we go, then.

The Queen drove from the palace to visit
the Westminister ARP headquarters.

I've just received this.

I'm to report
to RAF Martlesham this morning.

There's the inquest.

It's my medical assessment.
I can't… I can't bunk it. Sorry.

I put some photographs
in the dining room for your guests.

Rory, I'm telling you
in no uncertain terms

that you cannot possibly die.

I'm saying this most seriously.
Don't you dare put yourself in danger.

Well… I'm not sure
I shall have much choice.

Robert is going to need you.

Do you understand?

Good morning, Robert.

-Today's the day.
-I want to take my mother sailing.

I don't think
that ship is sailing anywhere.

You know, it's just compacted sand.

There's nothing holding it, except time.

-That won't matter. Not where we're going.
-Now, where's that, then?

- Will you come?
- Well, if I'm invited, I'll come.

- Morning.
- Hello.

Those for me?

No, I'm looking for my wife.

Well, perhaps you'd say goodbye for me.

I've been called up.

Oh.

Of course.

Well, best of British.

Stuart.

I… I bought you these.

How lovely.

Um, Lomax was just telling me
that he's been called up.

Oh.

- Uh, well, it…
- Um…

Well, I…

Uh, I'd better go. Goodbye.

Uh…

According to an official telegram,

Warsaw has been bombed six times today.

The telegram adds that fighting
of a most serious nature continues

on the whole length of the front.

We're in for another bloody mess.

Oh, here we go.
Did you hear the results?

- I just want a quick photo!
- Mrs. Pretty!

Please, make way.

Make way, please.

- Do you want me in the car with you?
- Yes.

Maynard! Maynard!

Maynard? Can you make sure
my wife gets in the house?

I… I hope I have
the opportunity to speak to you later.

- Mrs. Pretty?
- Mrs. Pretty!

I'm terribly sorry.

Thank you. Thank you.

These people
were not savage warriors.

These… These… These were…

These were sophisticated people
with incredible artistry.

The Dark Ages are no longer dark.

This is sherry.
I suppose it's sherry, is it?

I don't know.

Should we drink it now,
or is there going to be a toast?

What's everyone else doing?

The artifacts discovered here
have caused a national sensation.

You must all know by now

that they were recovered
from a chamber in the middle of a ship…

a burial ship, engineered from oak.

In my opinion, the greatest
and most beautiful treasure of all.

Ninety feet long, lying east to west.

Found and excavated by Mr. Basil Brown.

-To Basil!
-Mr. Brown!

I'm terribly sorry.

I thought you'd be pleased
with the verdict.

We die.

We die and we decay.

We don't live on.

I'm not sure I agree.

From the first human handprint
on a cave wall…

we're part of something continuous.

So, we… don't really die.

Rory put these out this morning.

It completely slipped my mind.

Sit down.

I'm sure
work like yours is very sustaining…

but it's not enough.

Life is very fleeting.

I've learnt that.

It has moments you should seize.

It could not be a better result,
Mrs. Pretty.

The whole of Suffolk
has been on your side.

- Yes.
- I saw you in her car.

Did she mention her intentions?

- About the tea?
- About the treasure, man.

-Oh.
-Yes, what's she planning?

We hope that you'll agree
that the Ipswich Museum

is the perfect place for--

-Can we talk another time? Excuse me.
-Yes, absolutely. Absolutely. Yes.

She trusts you, man.

Don't let her give it to Ipswich.

The British Museum would buy everything.

It's priceless, of course,
but she'll have to be reasonable.

Are you asking me to plead your case?

Have some lemon drizzle cake,
Mr. Phillips.

It is most refreshing.

Thank you so much for what you said.
I could have cheered.

Mm-hmm.

My son has formed a strong attachment.

Basil's very fond of him, too.

Perhaps you might let him visit you
from time to time.

Of course.

We'd be glad to.

- Back in a tick.
- Right.

C.W.'s suggesting
we make a move to the ball.

Hmm. Well, I think
that you should go on…

…uh, without me.

So, will…

will you follow us?

Uh…

I…

I don't think so.

No.

We both have our own paths
to, um, follow, don't we?

And I've seen you when you're happy.

You're rather beautiful.

I'm happy with you.

I could… I could learn to be.

I think that would be an awful shame.

Stuart! Shall we wait?

Let's… Let's go. Come on.

Go on.

Go on.

Hmm.

May…

That site, it needs to be made safe
for the future,

so it… it don't further decay. So…

that's another week's work.

You say your goodbyes to the old girl.

Do you take care of her.

You… You don't want to stay the night?

I'll see you next week.

I'll line the hull with hessian…

and cover that
with a… a layer of branches…

to protect it
from the weight of the earth.

All this soil's got to go back in.

Leave it as we found it.

I'm giving the treasure
to the British Museum.

As a gift.

It should be where the greatest number
of people can freely see it.

I haven't told them yet.

I wanted to tell you.

Well, that's a…
That's a hell of a big gift.

I don't know
anyone's ever made a gift as big as that.

Apparently, they haven't.

I also told Mr. Phillips that I expect
your work to receive proper recognition.

Thank you.

- Steer it steady, Mr. Brown.
- Aye, aye.

We're coming towards the edge
of the atmosphere.

Can you see it, Mother?

We're sailing into the cosmos.

Yes, I can. Where are we heading?

Orion's Belt, to take the Queen home.

Which Queen?

This boat's hers. Her people gave
her treasure for her home voyage.

And she was sad
when the ship came…

because she knew
she'd be leaving everyone behind.

And she was worried

that they wouldn't get on
very well without her…

but she knew
she had to follow the King into the sky.

And so, she set off…

through the Earth and up into the cosmos.

Space is a funny thing.

Time operates quite differently up there,
and 500 years can pass in a flash.

And the Queen looked back down to Earth.

She could see that her son had grown up
and that he was now a space pilot.

And she knew that when he made
his first journey up to the stars,

she would be there to meet him.

This morning, the British ambassador

in Berlin handed
the German government a final note…

stating that,
unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock,

that they were prepared at once
to withdraw their troops from Poland,

a state of war would exist between us.

I have to tell you now

that no such undertaking
has been received,

and that, consequently,
this country is at war with Germany.

-Good night, sir.
-Good night to you.

You can imagine
what a bitter blow it is to me

that all my long struggle
to win peace has failed.

-Good night to you.
-Good night.

The government have made plans

under which it will be possible
to carry on the work of the nation

in the days of stress and strain
that may be ahead…

…but these plans need your help.

You may be taking your part
in the fighting services

or as a volunteer.

If so, you will report for duty

in accordance
with the instructions you receive.

It is of vital importance
that you should carry on with your jobs.

Now, may God bless you all.