All language subtitles for Black.Sails.S03E05.HDTV.x264-FLEET

Who are they?

Maroons. Escaped slaves.

They must have a camp upriver.

She is everything here.

Priestess, governess, warlord.

She's not to be underestimated.

Spain. What did you
have to promise them?

That I would secure the remains
of the Urca De Lima's gold

and return it to Havana.

You set aside some of the gold?

- She did.
- How much?

- Eh.
- You don't think there's any way

we can challenge that
blockade directly, do you?

We're working on something
to even the odds a bit.

Get her inside!

I wonder if the pardons
are the victory

and that the most enlightened
thing that I can do

is let this be the end
of Captain Flint.

The pirates must be eliminated.

Why not consult Father?

Your father aids us
from his position in Nassau.

- Please, come with me.
- Lower your weapons. Now!

No, no! No!

Sync & corrections by Elderfel
www.addic7ed.com

I saw a dead dog
lying in the grass when I was young.

She was an old bitch in life,

but just a pup in death.

I remember seeing
the first flies set on her eyes.

How strange it was
that they looked so alive

and yet did not move.

That was the first moment

that I wondered what
this moment would feel like.

James, you resented me

because we were so close...

and I threw it all away.

If you join me now,

what if I resented you
for the same reason?

What would I be throwing away?

You can't see it yet, can you?

You are not alone.

Who is that?

That is the king.

Wind's in our favor.

Should be arriving in Ocracoke
in three days' time.

My fourth wife, Constance...

a sweet girl, bright,
but she had her notions.

Cricket in the house means good luck,
a moth in the house, bad.

And the bed... Jesus, the bed.

No hats on it, no brooms near it,

nor any clothes in it
that were worn outdoors.

Any violation of this
brought great misfortune.

I mean, for an otherwise sane woman,

she had these pockets of complete
and thorough madness within her.

Although it's been six years
since I've seen her face...

to this day, if I...

if I see a broom by a bed,
I... I have to move it.

What the fuck are you talking about?

A woman has that power, God-given,

to leave her marks on you.

And it's far harder
to dispose of the marks

than the woman who left them.

You think I'm having second thoughts

about leaving Nassau?

That that is the mark
Eleanor Guthrie left on me?

I know it is.

And I know that you're conflicted

about what you have left behind.

But the question is
whether you can cling fast

to the truth we both
hold in our hearts,

the truth that makes us
of the same mind.

And what truth is that?

That a lion keeps no den.

Because the savanna,
all the space within it,

everything that walks
and crawls upon it belongs to him.

When I talked like that, they all
looked at me like I was mad.

They never understood.

There's hardly any of us who do.

Sails!

- Three masts.
- Colors?

Spanish.

Signal the fleet.

Set a course to pursue.

It was never a rule.
No one ever decided it.

It was just something
of an understanding.

Spanish ships are to be avoided.

Yeah, for fear of reprisals
against Nassau.

I suppose that's one less thing
to worry about now, then.

Give us the room.

They say you are dead.

They say you were defeated
by Captain Hornigold.

They only truly ever have
half the story, don't they?

Yeah.

It's fallen. Hasn't it?

A pardon was offered,

and it brought down our defenses
without a shot bein' fired.

Did no one put up any resistance?
Not even Vane?

Obviously he took no pardon,

but it was all he and Captain Teach
could do to escape.

Teach?

Teach was there on the island?

He was. But he and Captain Vane

slipped away
with most of the men and ships

that might have been willing
to resist the occupation.

I wonder if ever a war
so loudly anticipated

ended so quietly.

How?

How did you do all this?

Before the Rosario raids,
there were warnings,

whispers that Spain
intended to retaliate

against Richard Guthrie
and his growing pirate empire.

I could not leave my wife
and daughter in harm's way,

so I secured them passage here.

It was smaller then, disorganized,

but it was far more remote
than other camps like it,

safer.

They agreed to take my family in,

and I agreed to offer them support
from my position in Nassau.

Of the hundreds of slaves
killed by the Spanish soldiers

during the raid,
no one even questioned me

when I suggested that my wife
and daughter were amongst them.

Not even Eleanor.

When Richard Guthrie left the island,

I was left to oversee his business,

but the scrutiny of wearing the crown

made secrecy difficult
and travel near impossible.

Once Eleanor
was ready to assume control,

I encouraged it
so that I might manage

the survival of both places

outside the scrutiny of either.

For as long as I have known you,

you've been two wholly separate men.

Until now.

Now I can no longer do that
which I am needed to do.

Now my wife, my daughter,
and all who live here

are in the gravest of danger.

They must find a way to steal
what they need to live.

They must learn the skill fast and well
lest it lead them to be discovered here.

And they will need help to do so.

Your help.

A partnership?

He said that?

With Nassau gone,
they've lost a vital supply line.

We would go out
on the account... hunt for them,

using this place as a
hidden base for operations.

However, he acknowledged
that he lacks the ability

to ratify any such arrangement.

He has authority here, but he
doesn't have the final word.

The queen.

Her concerns about
our trustworthiness remain.

He said that he would arrange for
me to appeal directly to the queen,

try and convince her
that we are worthy allies,

and that given the fall of Nassau,
we are partners well matched.

They have a home
with no means to supply it,

we the other way around.

And what if you can't convince her?

I will put the case as best I can.

But if I feel that it isn't happening...

Then I get in close to the queen

and make it clear

that either everyone
on this crew is released

with a guide to take them
safely back to the beach,

or the queen dies
within days of the king.

Even if you could get to her without
being killed in the process,

even if you could
get the knife to her throat

and convince them to let us go,
you would never get out of this alive.

Told you once lived here.

For a short time,
when I was very young.

Before my father
moved us to the interior

and the opium traders
claimed it for themselves.

Home to a smuggler,
den to opium fiends,

salon to a pirate king.

Suppose I'll fit right in.

Before any of that, it was home
to a long line of governors.

It will remember.

Yes, well, let's hope I don't
fit in too well with them.

Sir?

- For your signature.
- Thank you, Lieutenant.

What is that?

Petitions to the Lloyds,
attesting to the fact

that the damage to
the "Willing Mind" last night

was no fault of ours
and thus insurable.

A month from now,
somewhere in Cornwall,

a clerk will be asked to draft
a letter to Charles Vane,

asking for his version of events.

And they'll withhold payment for years,
awaiting his response.

Between you and I,
if there were ever a moment

in which I sympathized with the
desire to tear down the flag

and declare myself in open
rebellion against the Crown,

it's when dealing
with the insurance company.

He isn't coming back.

Charles Vane is no longer
a part of Nassau's story.

You know that, yes?

My lord.

Do you have it?

Excavation of the northwest
tunnel is complete.

- After significant work to...
- Do you have it?

The main vaults are secured,
as are its contents...

a sizable fortune in Spanish gold.

Thank you, Captain.

The Commodore will
take control of the structure

and ready the gold
for transport to Havana.

Wait.

Any news from the fort as to
Captain Rackham's whereabouts?

I'm told he and Anne Bonny
fled before our arrival.

Their... their
whereabouts are unknown.

Why?

Spain may be appeased, but the
street is still an open question.

If you want me to help you play that game,
I need to know where all the players are.

I see.

And when do you presume
this game begins?

It already has.

Next man.

- Sir.
- Your name.

Fowler...

I am once again
a citizen of the British Empire.

Mm-hmm. Congratulations.

- And your profession?
- Sailmaker, sir.

Thank you.

Next man. Name?

It's done?

I do solemnly swear.

Signed my name, and my account
with the law is now square.

A few hours ago,
any magistrate in the Empire

would have hanged me
without hesitation.

Children would have cheered,

women would have taken comfort...
one less villain in the world.

Men would have looked on in awe,

wondering what adventures and mischief

they'd missed in their lives
that I'd lived in mine.

And with the stroke of
a pen, it's all gone

as if it never existed,

rendering me nothing more
than a humble tavern bookkeeper.

I sincerely hope this doesn't
diminish your attraction to me.

- Move aside.
- Coming through. Step aside.

When weeks went by

with no news of your sentence
having been carried out,

I assumed an arrangement
had been reached

to carry it out privately

or a deal had been brokered

to commute your execution
to a long prison stay.

I suppose I should have seen this,

that somehow your grip on this place

would be too strong
to be denied by a king,

his laws, or even your death.

In the winter, the sun drives
hard through those windows.

You'll be blinded there lest you
keep them shuttered all day long.

I had the desk
where it was for a reason,

though I suppose you haven't
been here long enough

to know how to sit in that chair.

So here you are,

and I do not imagine
you came to decorate.

The governor is going to announce today
the formation of a governing council.

12 seats.

Six filled from his ranks,

six filled from merchants
native to the island.

It will signal
the governor's clear intent

to give the people
of New Providence Island

a meaningful say in their own futures,

and we would like you to bless it.

I am sorry.
Are you offering me a seat?

No. The six names
have already been chosen,

and yours is not among them.

I own title to more of the
street than you ever did.

I earn as much legitimate
income as you ever did.

I have no enemies and strong friends.

I am the one they all come to here

to make peace between them
when no one else can.

You are a pirate.

Excuse me?

The first thing he asked me to do

was to identify pirate
ringleaders on the island.

Organizers.

And you named me?

Undermined my reputation
with him before he...

You abetted the practice.

You signed articles, for Christ's sakes.

You held a share in an active crew.

What I have done so thoroughly
pales in comparison

to what you did before me.

And I lost everything for it.

I lost everything.

Remember that
when you sit in that chair.

You were wise to come to me.

If I remain silent about this council
or, worse yet, oppose its formation,

it will sow all manner of mistrust and
apprehension amongst my colleagues.

For if I can be so easily
discarded, who next?

Which is why you won't remain silent.

Really? Why?

'Cause this is important to him,

that the street understands
that his intentions are genuine

and he means to be a friend.

If you undermine that,

he can make life very difficult for you.

You should know

people do not speak to me
that way anymore.

Be smart.

Was I on that list?

That night before you were taken,

when you made the first of your lists
of those you wanted to see dead...

Mr. Stayton, Mr. Atz,
Mr. Featherstone,

Jack, Anne...

was I on that list?

No.

The night I was taken,

did you inform Hornigold
where he could find me?

No.

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Ellers.

Captain?

Get me some rum.

You think that this
is something you can ignore.

It isn't.

I said I would hear him.

How is that ignoring anything?

You said you would hear him.

I need you to listen.

I understand that you think that
Flint is the answer to all of it.

I would like to tell you that I agree

if for no other reason than to
appease you so you can rest.

But in the state that you're in,

the one thing I swear
I will not do is lie to you.

I will hear him.

I will look in his eyes
while he tells me

that he can be trusted
to be a partner to us.

But if I for a moment doubt him...

Do you trust me to make this decision?

Of course I do.

Shall I come back?

Come.

Rest.

Did she listen to you?

No.

You?

I removed one of them
from the cage last night,

spoke briefly with him.

Why?

You're my father, and I love you...

but I do not know you.

Those men, they are your life.

I wanted to know it, at least a little.

I will be all right.

You're against it.

An escape plan that involves
the certainty of losing our captain

in lieu of potentially
getting a powerful ally.

"Potentially" being the operative word.

And if he tries and comes up short,

we may lose our only shot
of gettin' out of here alive.

This would seem to be no choice at all.

Maybe, though you seem awfully
eager to get rid of him.

'Course I am.

We propped him up because
his strength as a captain

was the thing that was gonna
keep us alive.

But now his death becomes that thing.

I understand that you've made gains

towards a rapport
with the captain in recent days,

but if he wants to sacrifice
himself so that we might go free,

I mean, that might
be the first selfless thing

he's done for our benefit
since we've known him.

I'd ask you not to get in his way.

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Open.

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Charles.

My lord.

I think you know who I am.

May we have a word in private, please?

With everything I have sacrificed

to be a part of Nassau's future,
please understand,

I cannot endorse
a version of that future

in which I am still on the
outside of it looking in.

You want a seat on the council.

You say you want
to be a friend of Nassau.

Well, I am Nassau.

You question whether
I deserve this friendship.

It is a fair thing to ask.

So I suggest, like the longest
lasting of friendships,

the one that lasts to the grave,

I substantiate my worthiness
to enter into it with a dowry.

For obvious reasons,
that is only a sample.

There are several
thousand more behind it,

assuming we are able to reach
an agreement here today.

These are profits
from running a tavern?

Jesus.
It's from the Spanish gold.

Money you held out
from the fort... your share.

Not as far as you know.

Not as far as Spain knows.

As far as anyone knows,

the entirety of the Spanish gold

was captured today
in the fort by your men.

And this?

This comes from nowhere.

That is its virtue.

No covenants, no conditions.

No history.

Just an unexpected investment
from a loyal resident.

An investment so
substantial, I might add,

it would dramatically,
if not definitively,

improve your prospects for success.

And what exactly
would you want in exchange

for this investment?

An end to this conversation.

An end to questions about my past

and a new beginning
in which we all agree

there is no history
in this place anymore,

only a future in which
you and I are truly friends.

Billy doesn't give a shit
if you die tomorrow.

But I suppose you knew that already.

You know, the strange thing is, I...

I should be with Billy.

Until most recently, I'm quite
certain I would have been.

Unbothered by the idea of trading your life
for the rest of the crew's.

And yet, for some reason,

right now I am bothered by it.

But I understand it.

I understand the allure

of ensuring that no one
will ever think you

the villain you fear you are.

What a waste, it seems to me,

knowing it doesn't have to be this way,

knowing the man who talked me
into giving a shit about this crew,

why, he could talk those people
out there into anything.

If he wanted to.

Jesus.

Billy.

I have great respect for your husband,

and I know what he wants me to say...

that you have no choice but to use
me and my men to hunt for you,

that I am your only means of survival.

But let's be honest.

If that is all I can offer you,

then my men and I are dead
before the sun rises tomorrow,

because you know there
is always a choice to be made,

and you don't trust me at all.

So...

let us assume that I can
offer you something better.

You have hidden in this place
for a lifetime,

hidden from the harsh realities

that lie beyond this veil
that you have constructed here,

but the moment that
that shot entered his belly,

that veil began to unravel,

and sooner or later,

you are going to have
to confront these realities,

chief among them being
that England takes

whatever, whenever, however it wants.

Lives.

Loves. Labor.

Spirits. Homes.

It has taken them from me.

I imagine that
it has taken it from you.

And when that veil drops altogether,

they will come for more.

You're suggesting
that you could help us

prevent England
from taking these things?

No, I am suggesting
that we help each other

start taking things back,

and it starts with Nassau.

You cannot stay here.

This camp's secrecy is its virtue,

but that secrecy is going.

Nassau is defendable.

Nassau can supply itself.

Is that not exactly the sort of place

that could replace this?

A place that you could settle?

Settle? Governor Woodes Rogers

holds Nassau Town
with a full company of British regulars.

He holds the harbor with a small navy.

He holds the men on the street
with his pardons.

Woodes Rogers has an inoperative fort,

responsibility for an
administrative nightmare

that isn't going away
just because he wants it to,

and an island full of hunters
that may be placated for now,

but could be awoken.

That I could awaken.

How do you propose to do that?

They pledged to follow me
when they thought I was alive.

They turned
when they thought I was gone.

So I will come back from the dead

and lay claim to what I am owed.

Let's say that by some miracle

we could dislodge
the British from Nassau.

I could not possibly hope
to defend it with my numbers.

Your numbers?

For every man in your camp,

there are thousands
somewhere in the West Indies

living under the same yoke,

chained in fields, pressed on ships,

sold into indenture.

When they see a sitting governor

protected by His Majesty's Navy,

deposed by an alliance
of pirates and slaves,

how many consider joining that fight?

How many thousands of men

will flock to Nassau,
join your ranks,

and help you defend it?

What does a colonial power do

when the men whose toil powers it

lay down their shovels,
take up swords,

and say, "No more"?

Bring down Nassau,

maybe you bring it all down.

Spanish intelligence.

They'll carry files
from station to station,

relaying information up
the chain of command.

Looks like this was a heavy load.

What do you think
they could have had in there?

Well, it could be inventories
for silver shipments.

Could be treasure fleet schedules.

Could be private letters
of the goddamn king.

Could be anything.

Captain. Your name's in here.

What?

The reports from the Bahamas.

English operations in the area

and a dossier on the new governor.

Part of an invasion plan

in case they decide to go in.

No, this isn't remotely a plan.

It's just someone's notes.
Fragments.

Is there anything of value in it?

Not unless we have an
interest in invading Nassau,

which I don't think we do.

Do we?

No, we don't.

Governor hasn't
even been here that long.

How do they learn anything
about him so quickly?

Well, same way they do all the
British governors in the Americas.

They have a spy in his office.

What are you thinking?

At the end of every great
achievement that has ever been,

I imagine one looks back
and is reminded

of the one moment
when good fortune reached out

and gave the thing its blessing.

I think this is the equivalent
of five years' worth of tax revenue

without an ounce of the resentment
that traditionally comes with it.

I've felt fortune's
other hand so many times,

the one that takes instead of gives,

had it snatch away victories
that by all rights should have been mine.

That feeling I know too well
and still bear its scars.

But this...

This feels different.

What happened that time?

How did you get that scar?

Combat with a Spanish galleon
off the coast of Mexico.

We had routed her.

By all rights, her colors
should have been struck.

And they were,
just minutes after the event.

But in that moment,

one of her stern chasers fired a
shot at the most implausible angle.

Nothing more than the
desperation of a dying thing,

but that shot hit us right at the helm.

When the smoke cleared,
my brother was dead

and I had this.

Though I suppose it's some strange
irony that if he hadn't died,

it wouldn't have made for
nearly as interesting a book

and I probably wouldn't
be here right now.

I'm sorry. Were you summoned?

Please forgive me.

This is so foreign to me.

I... I don't know how to do it.

About six months ago,

I was approached by a man
who introduced himself as John

and said his employers wished
to monitor your operation to retake Nassau,

said they had a vested interest.

I assumed this had something
to do with your investors,

which seemed perfectly legitimate.

They offered me
a significant amount of money.

I said... yes.

It turns out the man's name
is Juan Antonio Grandal

and his employer
is the intelligence department

of the Casa De Contrataci�n.

Upon our arrival,
I received a query from them.

It said the department spies
had learned of a series of transactions

to exchange a significant portion
of the Urca De Lima's prize gold

for more portable commodities.

An attempt to walk away
with their money

without them knowing of it...

a scheme they find most insulting.

I was then asked if you had yet
learned of this converted cache.

So standing outside the door just now,

I found myself faced
with two choices...

report what I had just heard,

that you are considering
keeping this money

and know that Nassau will likely
burn for it and me with it...

or I could open the door

and warn you of the full scope
of the danger you face

if you do not return the
entirety of the hidden cache

along with the gold from the fort.

I cannot even begin to imagine

what would motivate you
to tell a lie like this.

So let's assume for the moment

that you are telling the truth.

I will see this money secured

and return it with the rest of
the gold in a matter of hours.

You'll relay this to your contact.

No.

No?

Why not?

The department has estimated
the approximate total value of the cache

based on the scope
of the exchanges involved,

and that is only half of it.

I've been thinking about our plan.

Yeah?

A skiff to Port Royal,

connect with your acquaintances there,

purchase ship, hire crew,

make way back to the continent,

at which point the money
will be secure

and we can establish
whatever future we choose...

the plan.

Yeah?

Yeah, there's a problem
with the plan.

- It was your plan.
- I know.

But I'm afraid I might have
overlooked a critical step,

something I'm not prepared to do.

What step?

We'd need to change our names.

Eventually,
the money will protect itself.

It'll hire guards,
it'll make us friends,

it'll shield itself
with investments and partners,

but as long
as it is in its current form,

it is as vulnerable as a newborn babe.

To protect it, given the attention
our names will draw to it,

we'll need recourse to the law.

And at the moment,
the only thing the law wants

with Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny
is their necks in nooses.

To have that protection,
we'll need to assume new identities.

So we change our names for a bit.

- Who gives a shit?
- I do.

A little bit. I do.

With everything I've lost
in recent days,

I can't afford to lose the name, too.

Not when it is so easy to keep.

- No.
- Just listen.

Are you out of your fucking mind?

Charles was the only one
they singled out.

They could have mentioned us.
They didn't.

They had pardons for unrepentant
murderers back there.

If that is the case, then there are
certainly pardons for us, too.

- Jesus Christ, Jack.
- It'll take us half a day, if that.

We walk into the tavern,
we sign our names,

and then not only are we square
with the law, our money is, too.

We did it.
We beat the fucking game.

Walk another half mile,
we get in that boat,

and we win.

And you wanna go back?

Then this... You stay.

Maybe it's better that way.
You can watch the money.

I'll return within a few hours.

We'll be on the water by nightfall.

I'll meet you here. Stay off the road.

No more than a few hours.

Promise.

Mate.

I'm going to admit something to you.

Please don't take this
the wrong way...

but I didn't think
there was a chance in hell

that was actually going to work.

Me neither.

Thank you...

for opening that door.

So what happens now?

Now we marshal whatever
resources we can,

as many ships as we can muster
and allies to sail them,

men resolved to defy the pardon

and ready to join a war.

Now we go find Charles Vane.

Sync & corrections by Elderfel
www.addic7ed.com