All language subtitles for The.Terror.S01E09.WEB.H264-DEFLATE[eztv]-eng(1)

I do this for a good friend,

and I hope you will agree

that there is no more holy thing
in this world

than a friend in need.

In my case, it is the estimable
Lady Jane Franklin

who wishes to address you...

under rather urgent circumstances.

Thank you, Mr. Dickens.

Many of you
will have become aware, no doubt,

of the mystery beginning to surround

my husband's expedition to the Arctic.

The Admiralty are doing what they can,

but the urgency
to find my husband and his men,

and the enormity of that icy province
in which they are lost...

leads me here, to you.

Now, I know that many of you

are very generous patrons
of charities and of the arts.

I wonder if you might be induced

to subscribe next
not to another cultural society...

but to a smart little ship.

A ketch, outfitted to venture
to that very same land

into which my husband and more than
a hundred other good men

have bravely sailed

and vanished.

I feel it is certain that Sir John
and his lost heroes will be found,

and soon,
by our intrepid rescue mission.

Now...

which of you good people
would like to see your name

published among its patrons?

I was going to start pulling
by his feet.

Why don't I give you a hand?

I was trying to recognize if I knew him.

Is this... Is this a friend, or...?

Hey.

That won't change what we do for him.

It's Mr. Honey, the carpenter.

I recognize his neckerchief.

You all right, lad?

Yes, sir.

Francis,
we can't possibly bury them all.

We have 32 dead,
as well as 23 unaccounted for,

Lieutenant Hodgson included.

We're glassing every horizon.

It may be that one or two
who ran out into the fog

will still find their way back to us
like your ship's boy did.

We've no sign of Dr. Goodsir?

He'd never go off with those men
of his own volition.

We imagine that this man
may return to us, Mr. Bridgens?

If Private Heather
remained a mystery to the doctors,

I've no hope of solving this.

What explains this...
this similar state...

when their injuries
could not be more different?

All I can bring to mind
is the example of a diary...

with all the entries removed.

It's still a book, yes.

But...

blank pages now.

We set sail from Greenhithe
three years ago...

with 133 men aboard.

Who could have imagined
such grief would come to us?

We've no choice now
but to carry it with us as we go.

To bring home the names of our dead...

so that their loved ones
can find solace knowing that...

friendship

and courage were with them
until the very end.

So take up the word with me, men.

South!

South!

We march south.

Prepare for departure, men.

Burn our dead, Thomas.

Let them be warm as they go.

And the supplies we cannot carry?

If Hickey's band are waiting us out
to loot the camp...

Some of the men with him
made their choice out of fear.

I'll not take away
any chance they have to survive.

We may meet them yet again.

And if we do, I want them
to make a different choice.

Leave our supplies in a tidy pile...

as an offering.

I want the men with Hickey to know
that's how we meant it.

More than God loves them.

And pull!

Men!

Men!

Men, here!

Lieutenant! What a miracle!

Drink. Drink up.

The others?

What's become of them?

They've moved on.

Have you hunted anything?

There's no game here.

But we have food.

You...

have things in hand, then?

There's still a place for you here.

If you want it.

One, two, three, heave!

One, two, three, heave!

Keep going!

Man down!

It's the heat that I can't...
I can't stand it.

Are you comfortable, James?

I'm sorry.

What in heaven for?

How on earth you were walking at all

will puzzle me the rest of my days.

You've got holes in you, James.

That shot was fired six years ago.

It's going to murder me yet.

If it doesn't, it's going to make
that Chinese sniper story

you're so fond of recounting
a half hour longer to tell.

Mr. Bridgens has dressed your wounds.

He thinks he can make up
a plaster tonight...

that will keep them shut
until we can get them healing again.

- There's time.
- No.

There's time.

I know your thoughts, Lieutenant.

I was thinking...

about a wedding I attended...

at which they served
an American ham, from Virginia.

I've never tasted better.

Then I was half right.

What did you imagine me thinking?

We've eaten from these tins
of mystery for years now, haven't we?

Without ever knowing what was in them.

"Veal Cutlet Tomata"?

What could that be, really?

Pieces of horse?

A street dog?

Does it matter now?

No.

All that matters is we were willing
to eat it and it served our needs.

Is that about right?

But our needs have changed, Lieutenant.

We need to ask ourselves...

what are we willing to eat next?

I only hauled part of the day,

but my knees feel like
they've got glass in them.

It will get worse, this.

How?

What for should I prepare?

To die, Mr. Gibson.

As all your joints will soon feel
as if they are full of glass.

Elbows, neck.

Your knuckles.

The little joints in your toes.

Oh, and your hips.

I expect that will stop you from
sleeping from the moment it begins.

Are you not well, Billy?

I think my knee's a bit...

Can he still haul tomorrow?

I would be very surprised.

I can.

- I can.
- Hey.

- I can.
- Be calm, Billy.

Be calm.

We'll make the best of a bad situation.

Like we always have.

I wouldn't either, Doctor.

What's that, Mr. Gibson?

Comfort us.

Any of us.

We're...

Sir!

The sweep party's
come in with a sighting.

If Hickey's group split,
they will try to flank us.

No, sir.

It's the creature.

They said they saw it
lurching around off to the west,

down along the wrack.

It came in and then headed back
to the ice and disappeared.

It didn't seem to detect us.

"Lurching," you say?

Wounded, perhaps.
It's been injured twice now.

This jostling's
beginning to hurt him, sir.

Camp here!

We're fully through with
the salt meats now.

What we have left beyond the tins

amounts mostly to biscuits,

tea, chocolates.

Sir.

Our pace has slowed...

hauling some of the ill in boats.

But if we can extend
this temporary camp for...

for more than a few days, then...

we can allow the ill to rest here...

while the bulk of us proceed south.

We can hopefully find game...

and trek back for the others

once we have something more
to offer them.

We send out hunting parties every day.

What you're suggesting would be
a death sentence for those men.

Some, surely.

But not for all of us.

As you said yourself, Captain...

our journey is still a long one.

The men know how tired they are.

And they know why.

It's a reasonable logic.

And I don't fault anyone

for... following it.

But I want to make myself
perfectly clear.

That is not our way.

If we are to deposit anything

with a view to return
at some later date...

it will be things, not men.

I'd rather we leave our tents behind
and sleep two to a sack...

like the orphans we are...

than leave one man alone
with last burdens.

And I speak not only of James.

I'll not leave
any one of you alone, either.

There are too many of them.

Just as there were too many caribou

the year of the Falling Stars.

Too many bear the year before.

And it's because of these men
the island has nothing for us.

Everything on legs has fled.

We are starving now,

but for what the sea gives us.

The island gives us only wind now.

We will call for another Shaman.

He'll find the Tuunbaq...

and try to heal what is wrong.

Balance things again.

And you will help him.

Tuunbaq is still yours.

It is your life now.

Yours.

You cannot walk away.

The hartshorn and camphor
is having very little effect, sir.

I'm not Christ.

My... My body.

Use it.

Feed the men.

Francis.

God wants you to live.

He wants you to live.

Muscles are in spasm, sir.
They've gone rigid.

Francis, help me. Help me.

Help me out of it.

Are you certain, James?

Are you certain?

Leave us, Mr. Bridgens.

Sir.

If I may.

Use this.

His reflexes will try to spit it out.

You'll have to help it down.

Like this.

It was an honor serving you, sir.

You're a good man.

There will be poems.

Do you wish to speak, sir?

I said a service with him last night,
just the two of us.

Let the others pray over him
if they like.

And then hide him
in the landscape, Edward.

Make him invisible.

I don't want him found and pawed.

Yes, sir.

If we'd had our wits about us,

Chambers and I would have taken a shot.

How far out from camp was this?

Not more than a mile now, sir.

West of us again. We were downwind.

It's tracking us, or trying to.

Lieutenant, gather the men.
We will discuss a strategy.

Sir.

We'll need higher ground.

Put all the sick in the middle and...

face it down
with all the ammo we've got.

I've got a strategy, Francis.

You cut inland a bit

and I drive it back out onto the ice.

- Not possible.
- Yeah, it is.

I smell like a thousand-year-old armpit.

I mean permission not granted.

I'm not saying goodbye
to two friends in one day.

Between me and you,
Francis, I'm done for.

If you need to ride in a damn boat,
I'll put you there myself!

Mr. Weekes can make another one.

They're going to have to cut it
a lot higher this time,

and that's only for the time being.

Best not make me or Mr. Bridgens
go through that, shall we?

Bleeding hell, Thomas!
Why didn't you speak up?

I kept it tidy.
No one could have done a better job.

Jesus Christ!

God.

Francis, we both know
what's coming for me now.

At least love me enough to admit it.

What do you need?

I've got half a pouch for my last smoke.

That will do for me.

But I'll take some forks
off you and the men.

You know, forty or fifty.

Forks?

Aye, and a piece of rope.

Enough to go around me a few times.

Fifteen feet should do it.

Are you mad?

Push, men! Push, men!

Go on, then, push it!

Man down!

Henry. Henry.

John.

Can we sleep?

Yes.

Yes.

Help me get him up.

Hold on, Henry.

Hey.

No. No. No, no.

Can someone tell me, please...

if they also see that bird?

They've made camp again,
about six miles away.

A friendly face is among them.

They're pitching all their tents now.

They must plan to be there a while.

Make our camp here, then.

In the bosom of this hill.

Stay here, Sergeant.

Mr. Goodsir.

I'll not do this.

It's why you were brought.

You're an anatomist.

You've cut up more bodies
than you can probably now remember.

Twenty.

I have performed on 20.

Why?

And don't say, "For my education."

You did so
for the greater benefit of others.

For the sick.

For the dying.

In hopes of helping them.

That is exactly where we are now.

You've murdered this man...

whom you now wish to eat,

and you're unwilling
to butcher his flesh yourself?

But you will have to.

We do not know which parts...

Yes, you do. Of course you do.

If I'm reading right your accent,
Mr. Hickey...

you grew up in a home
where you would have to use

every part of any meat or fowl
your mam could procure.

So if you want to eat your friend...

you're going to have
to cut into him yourself.

Do not ask me again.

I am now deciding...

which parts of Lieutenant Hodgson...

I will cut into first...

for every hour you refuse
to apply yourself to this.

You will stand apart no longer.

I'll give you some advice.

Don't indulge your morals...

over your practicals.

Not now.

Don't you also want to live?

Sit with it an hour...

and then...

we'll consider your choice made.

I'm not troubling any of you.

Stand up, Lieutenant.

- You'll break my hand that way!
- Let him be! Let him be!

Give me 40 minutes.

Mr. Goodsir.

Come out.

Dr. Goodsir.

Dr. Goodsir.

One summer...

when I was seven...

my parents sent me
to live with two aunts...

in Oxfordshire.

I did not want to go.

The elderly...

have that effect on children.

But they loved me.

And I... grew to love them.

They were... papists...

I came to find.

Devout.

Each Sunday they would leave me
with a housemaid...

while they attended a Catholic Mass.

I was frightened for them.

I had been told they were doing some...

great, unforgivable thing.

Then...

one morning, they took me with them.

I was shaking.

The service was not the...

howling spectacle of sin
I had imagined, but...

was beautiful.

The singing...

sounded delivered by angels themselves.

When it came time
for the Eucharist, I...

found myself moved to step forward.

My aunts were surprised,
but pleased, I could see.

I took the wafer on my tongue.

Drank from the chalice.

I felt clean.

With the body and blood
of Christ within me...

I felt forgiven of every poor...

weak or selfish thing within my soul.

It was a perfect moment in a whole...

imperfect life.

The next week...

when it came time to dress, I...

I pretended to be ill.

They knew I was pretending.

To this day, I don't know why I did it.

They never asked me to join them again.

We never spoke of it.

It was the last...

and only time
I stepped into a papist church.

But tonight...

when I close my eyes...

I'm there.

If I were a braver man...

I would kill Mr. Hickey.

Though it would mean my death, too.

But I am hungry.

I am hungry and I want to live.

Where?

It's got Crozier's group
a very scant few miles ahead of it

and ours a very few miles behind.

It will find one of us or the other,
I have no doubt about it.

Could we bait it in their direction?

We should return to the ships.
I've seen the charts.

We're barely a quarter of the way.

We've seen more signs of melt,
Mr. Des Voeux has sighted birds.

If we head back immediately,

we can be assured of getting back
to Terror and Erebus

before they have enough
open water to leave.

We can keep a loyal crew.

We can head away from this place,
away from this devil.

Well, you finally sound frightened,
Solomon.

We don't want to meet it again.

We can't beat it.

That is a queer melody for a Marine.

I saw that thing murder Mr. Collins.

You've told me.

Didn't tell you all.

I haven't told anyone all.

Do you believe a man has a soul?

How have you come to that belief?
Have you seen one?

I have.

I saw Mr. Collins's soul.

I know that's what it was,

and I watched that creature...

ingest it.

Feed on it.

Watched it happen from...
a few yards away.

I'm not mistaken.

It breathed that man's soul in.

If it's following the captain's group now,

let's take that opportunity

and get as many miles
between us as we can.

Get back to the ships and be there
when the leads open.

Not here.

Not here.

This does mean a new plan.

Can you signal to our friend ahead?

Yes.

"The C, the C, the open C.

It grew so fresh, the ever free.

The ever free.

The ever free.

Without it...

Without it,

guard it or run to the earth
above the regions round.

I love the sea.

I love the sea."

Mr. Bridgens.

He's been up there since morning.

What's he doing?

Listening to his thoughts.

Does he know yet
we got his message through?

Not been down.

And I dare not go up.

Are we waiting for his permission?

No.

But we need the boat.

And so we need enough men
with us to haul it.

This needn't be a second mutiny.

He'll see reason.

I'd rather take our chances
without the boat

and get there much faster.

We can beat the thaw and get
across the ice, back to the ship.

We'll do what we have to do, Tommy,

but we'll do it tomorrow.

At ease, Jopson.

At ease.

Is there something
I can do for you, sir?

Yes.

You can lie there, not feeling well...

while I try and cheer you up

by telling you the story of the time
anyone ever let me ride a cow.

I know that story ends with you
head first in a compost heap.

Well, would you like to hear it or not?

Yeah.

The cow in question,

it belonged to a neighbor.

Foley.

Yes, Coilin Foley.

He used to kick that cow
when he wanted it to move.

And it never wanted to move.

She just stood
in the grass meadow all day long,

which is why us children thought
she'd be a safe one to climb up.

So...

the first trick
was getting on top of the thing...

You're certain of this?

I saw it, sir.
Through the glass. It's there.

How wide would you guess it to be?

Wide enough for our boats. Yes, sir.

Weeks.

This could save us weeks of travel.

If the ice opens up, we row across
the strait and into the river.

- Shall we scout it properly?
- Without delay.

He's arrived.

Sir.

Bobby!

There's no need for any violence.

It's you we were sent for, Captain.

Only you.

Then drop your arms.

We'll not fire on you

and you'll not fire on us.

Magnus.

Hold your fire, damn you!

You did well.

You did so well, son.

Go on.

Go be with your brother now.

Stand up, please.

I'll come with you.

Sir.

And you'll let the rest of these men go.

You have our word.

We will, however, take your arms.

Gun down, Edward.

Come back for Hartnell's body.

Bury him.

Then keep moving south, as planned.

Don't wait for me.

If I can, I'll catch up.

Sir.

You are to lead the men forward, Edward.

You and the others will live.

I understand the order, sir.

Let me hear it.

We will live.

What in the name of God
took you so fucking long?