All language subtitles for bss02e01

Are you certain
this is wise, sir?

Stories I hear
about the raiders
in these waters,

their brutality--

Cui bono, Mr. Fogg.

These men profit nothing
from blood.

They profit from cargo.
And they profit most

when that cargo is
least costly to win.

Those stories
you've heard--

tools of the trade,

self-applied by the pirates
themselves,

intended to separate us
from our cargo

by surrender
rather than sword.

These are men, Mr. Fogg,
not monsters.

If we behave rationally
and civilly,

so will they.

Down to the well, move!

The ship
is yours, sir.

Our manifest.

Everything that would be
of value to you

is accounted for,
and its location
in the hold.

Eight barrels,
marked "JP,"

forward hold, port side.
Mr. Neustadt, step to it.

Pardon me, Captain.
May I ask,

are you one of the pirates
that calls the port
of Nassau home?

Three barrels, tea...

I'm a recent arrival
to Nassau.

I only ask inasmuch
as it's become

something of
a fascination of mine.

They say the reality
of the place

is far more interesting
than the myth.

The business there
is so efficient,
so enlightened,

that all trade is managed
by a teenaged girl.

Tell me, is that true?

What is it?

Ashe.

As in Lord Ashe.

Then let's get on
with it.

Everyone up!

Oh, no, please.

Go ahead!

Mercy! Mercy!

I'd like to thank you
for the orderly surrender
of your ship.

It's truly amazing to me
how many men in your
position

lack the sense
to do the same.

Ordinarily I would return
the courtesy,

relieve you of your cargo
and be on my way.

But your ship is
about to yield a prize

of far, far greater value
than our wildest expectation,

a far greater prize

for which I'd rather not
leave witnesses to the taking.

Please, please, sir.
I have a wife and a son.

Hell of a prize,
Mr. Meeks.

Hell of a prize.

Captain.

Captain.

Captain, before
we're seen...

Don't call him that.

Well?

Well what?

The crimes
you've committed

against your crew
are undisputed.

The only reason
the sentence hasn't
been carried out

is that I have been
delaying the vote,

in hopes that you might
help me find a way
to get that gold,

or as much
of it as possible,
off that beach.

Why would I
do that?

Because if you do,

I'll personally guarantee
your sentences are commuted.

You'll guarantee that,
will you?

You underestimate
your men yet again.

They will hear reason,

especially when it comes
from a voice they can trust.

The men feel
they're entitled
to leave this ordeal

with something
to show for--
Fuck those men.

Fuck them for their
shortsightedness.

Fuck them for their
ingratitude.

And fuck them for siding
with a cowardly,

sniveling shit
of a mutineer.

There are over 100
soldiers on that beach,

sworn upon their lives
to protect that gold.

In a matter of hours,

they'll dispatch teams
to search for threats.

In a matter of days,

they'll locate our wreck
and our camp,

and they will kill
every last member
of your crew.

And they'll deserve it,

none more so than you.

Bring them back.

We'll ready the nooses.

Wait.

The Urca's gold
is secure.

A full complement
of soldiers,

reinforced batteries--
18-pounders, all of them--

and men who know
how to use them.

There's no way
of approaching that beach
from the land.

Why the fuck are we
listening to him?

Yeah, why?

We should be cutting
your goddamn tongue out,

for all the lies
you've told us.

Gentlemen!

No one is angrier
about Mr. Flint's crimes
than I.

Which is why
you must trust me

when I ask you to hear
what he has to say.

And even if it weren't
for the soldiers,

even if it weren't
for the guns,

there's a fucking
warship

watching over every inch
of the bay--

a fucking warship
that has already killed
half your number,

a fucking warship
that would prevent
any approach

to that beach
via the sea.

There's simply no way
of stealing that gold.

But there might be
something else
you can steal.

The fucking warship.

What?

Too many soldiers
on the beach, which means

that the watch on the ship
is spare.

Two men
approach quietly,

evade a handful
of sentries

and eliminate the watch
on the mainmast.

Now at this point,

while the sun
is failing

but before
the night watch arrives,

an assault
could be made.

That ship

is your only means
of escape.

And that ship
is your only means

of taking
anything of value

out of this ordeal.

And once it is
in your possession--

Enough of this.
Once that ship is
in your possession--

Do none of you
remember his crimes?
Mr. De Groot!

Once that ship is
in your possession,
you will be invincible!

Now the risk

falls almost entirely
on the first two men out.

I would volunteer,

in exchange
for your pardon.

That leaves
one man to go.

One volunteer--

I'll do it.

I'll-- I'll go.

Then let's put Mr. Flint's
plan to a vote.

All in favor?

Aye! Aye! Aye!

Lord Thomas Hamilton?

Ah.

Are you the liaison
sent by the Admiralty?

I am, my lord.

They say it started with
a man named Henry Avery.

He sailed into the port
of Nassau,

bribed the colonial governor
to look past his sins,

encamped his crew
upon the beach,

and thus began
the pirate issue
on New Providence Island.

Where and when
will it all end?

I suppose
that's where you and I
come into this story.

As I'm sure
you're aware,

my father the Earl
holds great sway

amongst his peers
in Whitehall.

He has asked
for the assistance
of Her Majesty's Navy

in pacifying the island
to which he holds title.

He was assured
that this request
would be considered

a matter of
the utmost importance.
Undoubtedly, my lord.

Then perhaps you can tell me
why they decided to send you.

Beg pardon,
my lord?

A number of your superiors
are former schoolmates
of mine.

I canvassed them
about your reputation--

the son of a carpenter,

no record of any
formal schooling,

and yet more literate
than any three boys
I knew at Eton.

You are a rising star

with a bright future
in the Admiralty.

You can understand
my concern.

Not really.

Perhaps my
lack of education
is showing.

I intend to accomplish
something here, Lieutenant.

I intend to save Nassau
before she's lost forever.

And I cannot do that
with a partner

who might be more concerned
about advancing his career

than he is about
realizing this goal.

You want to save
Nassau, my lord?
Very much so.

Then perhaps my job is
to make certain you know
what you're getting into.

You can go in now.

I'll go get us some rum.

Where the fuck
were you today?

Here.

You wanted to be a partner
to the consortium,
did you not?

You wanted to take
Hornigold's seat
at the table?

Then that means
you assume Hornigold's
responsibilities,

first among them--
turning up for
the fucking meetings.

Is this really what
you came up here for--

to scold me
for truancy?

This morning somebody
killed two watchmen

and stole 500 pounds' worth
of cargo from the warehouse.

Sorry to hear that.

Don't be sorry.
Do your fucking job.

And what job
is that exactly?

Hornigold provided security
for the consortium's
operations.

And you'd like me
to fill that role
for you now?

If your friends aren't
capable of protecting
themselves,

then I argue they aren't
worth protecting.

What the fuck are you
talking about?

You were the one
who decided you wanted
to be a part of this.

To protect the bay.

But to play the role
of constable

for the benefit
of Captains Naft
and Lawrence?

Your problem
isn't with me.

Your problem-- you need
stronger partners.

I had stronger partners,
you shit.

What are you doing
down there, Eleanor?

Corporate charters?
Mandatory meetings?

The woman who
stole ship and crew
out from underneath me

has no appetite
for any of that.

I think that's why
you're so frustrated
with me--

because you know all
of this, because you know
that I know this,

and because you know
you are so much more
like me

than anyone you've ever met
in your entire life.
Jesus Christ, enough.

Stop telling me what it is
you think I think.

You sound fucking
ridiculous.

Do you know
what it is I want?

I want to figure out a way
of selling everyone's
shit here

for more tomorrow
than I did yesterday.

I want to establish
a future here that isn't
measured in months.

And I want you
to show up for a meeting
when you're fucking told.

Can't leave yet.
Watch me.

You haven't asked me
the question yet.

You haven't asked me
if I'm gonna
let him in--

Flint.

Am I going to permit him
to enter the bay with his
Spanish treasure?

Assuming, that is,
he returns with it at all.

Be very careful, Charles,

because at a certain point

I will remove you
from this place, no matter
what the consequences.

You'd do that?
For him?

How is it you see
such a partner in him
and such a villain in me?

He wants
what I want.

Are you quite certain
about that?

Let's put it to a test.

Let's say I do separate
Flint from his gold

when he returns.

And let's say
you and I split it.

What?

Mm, see?

Not so easy.

Think about it.
I kill Flint,

give you
half a fortune.
And then--

no more Naft,
no more Lawrence,
no more compromises.

You could do
whatever you like.

We could do
whatever we like.

How important is Flint
to you now?

Fuck you.

And fuck you too.

Once the mainmast watch
has been eliminated,

hoist your signal.
If there is no signal

before the reinforcements
for the night's watch
depart the beach,

I'll assume failure
and begin our escape
down the coast.

What if the signal
is in time?

Then we'll launch
our assault.

There is something
about which I want
to be very clear--

even in success,

you will be expelled
from the crew,

cast out.

Are we understood?

You shit.

Um, beg pardon?

I needed a fighter,

someone I could count on
to make a difference
on that ship.

What the fuck were you doing
volunteering?

I'm sorry,
I'm a little confused.

Why wouldn't I volunteer?
If we're to try and--

Hang on.

You're serious
about taking the ship?

What the fuck
did you think?

I thought this was how
you intended to escape.

Sure, it would be a few
days of walking or so
to St. Augustine,

but at least
we'd have a chance.

You really mean
to board that ship.
Jesus Christ.

I'm not doing it.

I don't need to return
to Nassau.

I am happy to find some
other place to survive.

St. Augustine
is that way.

It's at least a week
on foot,

Tequesta tribes
in between.

I doubt you'll survive
to see sunrise tomorrow.

How are you even
gonna get out there
with one arm?

What is this exercise
intended to prove, Lieutenant?

You want to understand
why piracy flourishes

in the West Indies.

I'm about
to show you.

Have you seen one of
these before?

I'm afraid
I haven't, no.

Who is he?

Davey someone-or-other.
High seas piracy,

treason, so on and so forth,

same as the last,
same as the next.

He's being asked
if he wants to confess,

beg forgiveness
in the eyes of God
and Queen Anne.

Suck my cock!

I assume
that was a "no."

So this is
the lesson--

the pirates of
New Providence Island

are incorrigible,
dedicated to mayhem.

To attempt to address this
subject is doomed to defeat
from the outset.

It's not him
I wanted you to see.

No mercy!

Go all the way
to hell!

It's them.

Civilization needs
its monsters.

You think Whitehall
wants piracy to flourish
in the Bahamas?

No, I don't
think they want it.
But I think they're aware

of the costs associated
with trying to fight it.

And I think
that that sound

travels.

You're an educated man,
my Lord, but I think it
worth reminding you

that in most cases
a man trying to change
the world fails

for one simple
and unavoidable reason--

everyone else.

Do as I say
when I say,

or I'll kill you
myself.

Well, that was easy.

Hurry up!

I will fucking kill you.
Shut up.

For crying out loud!

10 minutes
I've been waiting.

A moment's peace,
my friend--

surely you can
empathize.

Jack Rackham.

The crew killer.

That's right.

Jesus.

What happened?

Same as yesterday,

though it would appear
things have escalated.

When I came here,
I had nothing

but my name
and my wits.

A man in a place
like this,

surviving on those
two things alone--

he suffers indignities,

slights, ridicule.

But I overcame it.

I used the wits
to build the name.

I became quartermaster
to a crew

that struck fear
into the hearts

of many, many men.

Jesus Christ,

what's become
of my name?

They pissed on me.

Tell me
who did this.

So you can
murder them all?

What a wonderful idea.
Why didn't I think of that?

Tell me though,
how many men do you think

you can safely
lure into the wrecks
to their deaths?

Unfortunately, I'm afraid,
eight won't cut it,

as I am pariah
to just about every
able-bodied man

on this fucking
island!

They pissed on me.

I will send
someone upstairs
to tend to him.

He is angry,
but this will pass.

Stay the fuck away
from me.

Wait.
You almost
got us killed.

Almost. Almost.
For a fucking bauble.

It's a boatswain's
whistle.

Look.

Doesn't it make more
sense for us to prompt
the lookout to come down,

than for us to go
up there after him?

You are truly amazing,
you know that?

We're both
better off now than
we were two minutes ago,

yet you're angry about it
because it didn't
happen your way.

Might you consider
for a fucking moment

that your distrust of me
is completely unwarranted?

I warned you about Billy.
Was I right?

I found you
over Mr. Gates's body,

and did I do anything
but defend you?

And when you were sinking
to the bottom of the sea,

who do you imagine it was
who dragged you
onto that beach?

Brace yourself,

but I'm the only person
within a hundred miles
of here

who doesn't want
to see you dead.

But this is
the rate I can offer you
for this material.

If it's unsatisfactory,
feel free to go elsewhere.

This is absurd.
There's absolutely

nothing wrong
with the cargo itself.

What's going on here?

Ma'am, these goods
were presented for
consignment,

but your man here
refuses to pay full
freight for it,

owing to the condition
of the barrels they're in.

Put up a fight,
did they?

Once we were onboard,
the crew turned, gave us
no choice.

There was
no malice in it.

Mister...

Meeks, ma'am.
Quartermaster
of the Fancy.

Mr. Meeks, do you have
any idea what happens

when a marginally
reputable cargo ship
enters a civilized port

and attempts to unload
50 barrels full of cargo
covered in blood?

This material
all must be unboxed

and reboxed into clean
containers before I can even
think about shipping it out.

Between you and I,
which of us should bear
the cost of that?

Whatever happened
on that ship, it was
a costly fuck-up.

But it wasn't my fuck-up,
and I'm not about
to pay for it.

Ma'am, I must beg
your understanding.

My crew is new
to this place.

Going forward,
we'll certainly keep
this issue in mind.

Mr. Meeks, who is
the captain of the Fancy?

Ned Low.

Please relay
to Captain Low

that it is his
responsibility to manage
the taking of prizes,

to avoid
situations like this
in the future.

If there are any savings
in the repacking
of these goods,

I'll be sure
to pass it on to you.
Good afternoon.

Madam Guthrie.

You wished to speak
with me?

Sit.

Do you know
Captain Hallendale
of the Straight Arrow?

Yes.
Not terribly strong
or daring,

but knows
how to manage a prize,
reliable in that way.

Sorry, what has this
got to do with me?

The Good Fortune
was captured yesterday

but by a different Captain
who found her first,

beat Hallendale
to her,

and then, instead of
managing her surrender,

he put her entire crew
to the sword.

I give Hallendale
a lead.

Hallendale spends
all his time in here.

And somehow that lead
ends up in the hands
of a fucking maniac.

Madame Guthrie, isn't it
just as possible this is

a rather unfortunate
but not at all implausible
coincidence?

I sold it.

To Captain Low.
He paid 90 pieces for it.

Why would you do--?
Why wouldn't I?

Valuable information
walks in the door, I
should let it walk out?

Why?
Because it bothers you?

Stay out of my
fucking business.

Consider this
the only warning
you're ever gonna get.

You fucking ingrate.
Now that's not helpful.

You mewed and whimpered
in that fucking tent

till you had me
all turned around.

Got me thinking
you were some helpless thing
they was beatin' on.

I get you out,
and you pull this shit,

starting shit
without telling us.
Let me explain.

Don't you fucking
talk back to me.
All right.

Either she's on her back,
or she's out on the streets.

But if it ain't
one of the two
come tomorrow,

I'm gonna deal
with it my way.

I will be very honest
with you.

I could torture
the two of you

to find out
who you are,

how many more of you
there are

and what you're hoping
to accomplish here.

I could find it out,

and you would
both suffer.

But today
is your lucky day,

at least
for one of you.

My commander arrives

to relieve the watch
in less than an hour.

I need this matter
resolved before then.

So neither of you will
be here when he arrives.

One of you will tell me
what I want to know,

receive this gold
as reward,

be escorted to the beach
for your escape.

And the other will be
quite dead.

My name is John Silver.
His name is James Flint.

We came here
to steal the gold from
the treasure galleon,

but he was deposed
from his captaincy
by a man named Dufresne,

who is now waiting
with the rest of our crew
in long boats.

You'll likely find them
behind the promontory
to the south.

I believe there are
32 of them.

You fucking--!

Suéltalo.

Sorry.

Huh-uh.

Shoot this one.

He'll get
to the pistol.

This one has more scars--
more fights.

You've got a better
chance against this one.
Not if he shoots me first.

You can beat him to it.
Do it, quickly.

So I actually
have to fight him?

Well, what the fuck
did you think was
gonna happen?

Do it! Do it!

Bolt the door.

Busquen algo para derrimbar
la puerta, apúrense!

Table.

So what now?

They'll have to
converge through the door.
Roughly a dozen of them

and three pistols
at our disposal.

And then what?

Open fire.

Mr. Logan,
weigh the anchor!

We must get underway
before they loose those
cannons on the beach.

Up the braces!
Up the braces!
Unfold the canvas!

Come on!

Return fire!

Cannons are loaded!

Get us underway!
Get us underway!

Prepare to take fire!

Incoming!

...the fucking island.

...that Guthrie cunt...

Now get the fuck out.

All right. Fuck.

You have absolutely
nothing to worry about.

Though I recommend
avoiding her for a while.

Get the fuck out.

If we are all going
to make something
of this place,

perhaps it is in everyone's
best interest

that you and I find a way
past all of this,

past your anger
towards me.

I'm not gonna
warn you again.

Your anger-- it is
understandable.

You killed your own crew
to free me.

You suffered indignity
in my defense.

Perhaps that is enough
to warrant your feelings.

But perhaps there is
something else
underlying it,

something hiding in a place
not even you can see.

Perhaps

we would do well

to bring it
into the light.

What the fuck do you
think you're doing?

Huh?

Ma'am.

May I buy that
for you, miss?

My bar.
Thank you anyway.

I confess,

I knew it was
your bar.

Just a gesture
for a pretty lady.

You must be new here.

I am, in fact.
How could you tell?

I don't fuck
customers.

Everybody here knows it.
Now you do too.

A sound rule--

unfortunate for me
but sound nonetheless.

Still, it is unthinkable
to me

that someone this beautiful
is forced to spend
her nights alone.

What's your name?

Ned Low.

You met my quartermaster
Meeks this morning.

From what I understand,
we were shortchanged

a fair amount
on a prize haul

owing to the condition
of its containers.

I understand
Mr. Meeks told you

the episode
on the Good Fortune was
a case of self-defense.

I apologize for that.

When I heard
he told you that,
I knew instantly

that a woman of your
stature would see
right through it.

And if you're anything
like me, you simply
cannot abide a liar.

So I thought
if I came here
to tell the truth,

perhaps we might reach
a more favorable outcome.

The truth is,

I'm not a particularly
skilled captain.

Navigation is
foreign to me.

I have no gift
for politics.

So what am I
good at?

This is going to sound
absurd, but...

I make the men feel better
about themselves.

See, every man here
has served under a captain

who uses violence
to achieve an end--

to terrorize,
to advertise.

When the men see that,
they can spot the lie.

They know that
that captain is,

in some part
of his soul,

sickened by his
own actions.

And the lie infects
everyone who sees it.

But with me,

when the men see me
slaughter the crew
of the Good Fortune,

when they see me cut out
a man's tongue from his mouth
for lying,

when they see me
burn a boy alive in front
of his father's eyes,

they know,
they can see it
in my eyes--

there's no lie there.

There's no
secret remorse there.

I simply don't have it
in me.

At any rate, I hope
that clarifies things

and illustrates
why it is only fair

to compensate my men fully
for their latest haul,

as it was an honest haul,
taken by an honest captain.

I intend to be here
some time.

It would be a shame
to make enemies
of each other

over such a small
amount of money.

Get out of my place.

I say get rid of him.

It's very lucky.

I rather envy you.

I remember what it was like
the first time I met him.

There's a feeling one gets
when in the presence

of the truly
great men.

It is something
quite indescribable.

I imagine you're having it
as we speak.

"Indescribable"
is a good word.

You question
my husband's motives?

Not on the least,
ma'am,

though I may question
the outcome he's likely
to achieve.

The game he is
entering into

is a brutal and
unforgiving one.

Piracy?
Politics.

What's your name,
Lieutenant?

McGraw--
James McGraw.

Great men aren't
made great by politics,

Lieutenant McGraw.

They aren't made great
by prudence or propriety.

They are,
every last one of them,

made great by one thing,
and one thing only--

the relentless pursuit
of a better world.

The great men don't
give up that pursuit.

They don't know how.

And that is what makes them
invincible.

17 yea votes
against 15 nays.

The crew has commuted
your sentences

by the narrowest
of margins.

You will both be
transported back to Nassau,

at which point
you will be removed
from this ship

permanently and
without severance.

There'll be no further
negotiation on the matter.

You were right,
for what it's worth.

Beg pardon?

If your interests and mine
were adverse to each other,

there's a good chance
I'd cross you to save
myself.

Then why didn't you?

Because at the moment

I don't believe
our interests are
adverse to each other.

I don't believe
you did any of this
for a pardon,

or a passage to Nassau,

or to be able to walk away
from anything.

I think you intend
to reclaim your captaincy.

I think you intend
to take control
of this ship.

And then I think
you intend

to return to that beach,
armed to the teeth,

and seize every last
ounce of gold off it.

And I think
you're going to need
my help to do it.

Tell me I'm wrong.