Original subtitles

Our tale begins in the year of our Lord 1831, when the Bethany Rose wrecked off Bingles

Beck Beach in the small hamlet of Hunderbee.

91 souls were lost at night.

Our heroine was a stowaway, carried to shore by another survivor, a noble black amore,

Jeff.

Death be a beast, trying to eat a dead kid.

He's stealing a lot.

Fellows of such a hue were not common in Hunderbee, and thinking her dead, Jeff fled,

taking her locket within.

Our heroine would indeed have perished had it not been for the arrival of Dr. Fogarty,

a sturdy man, just shy of his middle years.

What do you got?

Is there no one left alive?

Fogarty on swift hands rushed to her side, gathered her up, and deftly did he blow the

last to life.

How different might our tale have been, and the widowed past had not appeared?

Make way this is God's work.

Hey sir, I am the physician.

In the name of our Lord Christ Jesus, let this wretched soul be saved.

Oh well.

Edmund's wife, Arabell, had passed suddenly but a year before, and many a haggard fisher

wife was eager to warm the dent in the widowed's bed.

But was this young woman, presumed from the ship's log to be the plain spinsed emissionary

Helen Blone, that snared his weeping eye.

Dearest to their life, what enjoyed your company of late?

Though I know little of your history and it seems neither do you, I take much comfort

from your simplicity, both of looks and character.

I am a pastor.

Oh I know sir.

I had not finished.

I am a pastor, and it is usual that a pastor has someone who has decided to attend his

needs and those of the community, in short he'll him, a wife.

Thinking Edmund her saviour, she accepted the proposal.

And though the match was not one sparked by passion, Edmund's kind and jock and ways

led her to expect a marriage benign.

Her most welcome contrast to the shadowy past that led her to stow away upon the Bethany

Rose.

I am most blessed to find you at my time of life.

Though youth has all but spread his wings and fled you, I don't want to throw your more

chewy ears at the men that did not take you.

Perhaps I did not love them as I do you sir.

You are untouched.

Due to all of my tellsers, I would be forced to stow to death with my own Christian hand

any wife of mine who'd airlame with another.

Yes.

Helen, I've noted on your cheek a kind of growth.

Oh my mower.

You might see fit to cover it for our special day.

The ship did sink, but her past would not.

And on the eve of her wedding, Helen was plagued by memories.

Easy.

Helen felt her heart would burst if she did not tell Edmund her tale.

So that very night she crept into Hundaby and slipped the confession beneath the slumbering

widow's door in a hope that he would forgive her.

Yet as is the way with so many a marriage, the pair were to be joined till death.

Neither one truly knowing the other.

For the letter remained unnoticed.

Unread.

What is it my love?

You... you still love me.

I don't love you, dove.

Oh, as I am.

You are as you are, Helen.

No, thank you for your grace.

But where are the congregation?

They prefer to go to the hanging.

Dear God.

We've all rallied round, peeking in bird pies and nursing them through his griefs and

cerebral past.

And he chooses to hook up with the first dumpill biscuits spewed up by the sea.

Biddy?

Oh, Master Edmund, I was just saying how pretty Miss Elaine was looking.

Well, it is the most flattering light upon you also.

Biddy with a foot.

You always have a look of moses in his lattie years.

You must miss your dead wife.

Each hour without her bell is an agony, but perfect souls cannot tear along upon this earthly

plane, and though our time was brief, I shall always relish that precious snatch.

Congratulations, Brother Redmond.

Oh, thank you, crippled hester.

I did not see you down there.

Ah, brother, Joseph, you are returned.

I do hope the call of the savage will not take from us again too soon.

Fiji, Everbecken, brother Edmund.

Would that you might join me there next time.

Some Christian spine into those flat-nosed heathens.

Underby needs me.

I have here a small wettigif.

Gift, no need, brother.

There is no greater gift than the love of the Lord.

Some Fiji.

A bird of paradise.

Near brother, it is a silk tail.

I found it in my bed one night, and though I placed it outside, by mourn, he had returned

and once again deposited himself upon my pillow.

His feasts pressed to mine like a wife.

I shall cherish him and call him... I shall call him Raymond.

It was my late father's name.

What a company lad.

How's worth?

Not well.

Congratulations, Mr. Suffolk Fidge.

Mr. Suffolk Fidge.

Oh, sorry.

The name sounds so strange.

I see that.

Father, son, that's Sharon for you this day.

And did you persuade him to cast off his cloudy coat?

Oh, I did command Brother Breeze to go to him to say it was my windy wish.

Oh.

Sir, have we met before?

On Binglesback Beach.

Come, my bride.

I'm sure Dr. Fogarty has little time for such idle prattle.

We must away.

See, dances and rindled and the...

Herms are adaged.

Where's Mother?

Mr. Smith Tild is still a bed, sir.

She complained of vipers lashing her inside.

Her bowels still not spoken, sir.

Oh, dear.

Though I... I fancy I got a whisper.

Oh.

No hair looks well, don't I?

Thank you, sir.

I had it rearranged for the special day.

I was not invited.

Very, um, cumulonimbus.

Is it based on the ground?

Oh, no, sir.

It looks very pretty.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Sorry.

Thank you.

I must, uh, fresh myself.

It's time for the show.

Please, I'll be back.

No, not too much.

It's not too much.

Just checking that all is to Madam's satisfaction.

Yes.

Thank you, Dorothy.

Everything is quite wonderful.

A room, Mum. I thought a milky pigeon would suit.

Yes. Thank you.

Mistress Suffolk Finch's room was the most beautiful in the house.

A sunset gold that seemed to glow as she did.

It is not now used, of course.

No.

Perhaps Mistress Suffolk Finch would like to approve the menu.

But she's dead.

Oh.

Yes.

Sorry.

Yes. It looks lovely.

Thrushbuns and a thick dark gravy.

Mistress Arabell liked her gravy.

Very thick.

And this is Edmund's mother's room.

It looks lovely.

It is on your door.

I cannot wait to meet you.

She slumbers.

In consoleable since I repulsed her.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

We never go in here, Mum.

It leads to the bell tower and the stairs are quite rotten.

So, it has kept locked at all times.

What is that noise?

Noise, Mum?

She's most likely owls, Mum.

Oh.

They do.

Deficate through their mouths.

What interesting breasts do you have, Helen?

Thank you, sir.

I suspect Arabels were larger.

They were considerable.

You, you what?

Much darker.

Down there than perhaps I had imagined.

Do I not please you, sir?

No, no, no.

It is just.

That Arabels, smooth as ham.

Nature did not.

Is he hair broken round with such a black and forceful brush?

My mother, they say, was raven haired and, and, torn he skinned.

And her nose?

Oh, oh, proud nostrils.

Flared like a lion's.

Not a zero.

Oh, no, no, heavens, no, no.

At least if truth be told, I never knew her.

Oh, what?

Oh, I wish I knew her.

Helen, you've socketed my bridal jerk in.

Oh, surely no, Velvet, cannot abide moisture.

Oh, forgive me.

Oh, I did not know you were so weak.

Oh, I did not know you were so weak.

I did not know you were so weak.

I did not know you were so weak.

Arabel was so strong.

Oh.

Oh.

Describe her to me, Edmund.

Arabel.

Oh.

She was perhaps the most beautiful creature I ever saw.

Other than that, Raymond.

No.

This is my special day.

It shall not be ruined.

Come, dove.

Dorothy will shave you.

Your tight interests.

I'm charming.

Thank you.

I believe Dorothy laid it for me.

It was Arabel's.

She wore it when first I burst her.

Come, bride.

It is a quarter after ten.

We shall intercourse until the thirty after.

There may be a sharp searing pain throughout.

Oh.

Yes.

Oh.

If I could.

If you could just.

Oh.

Okay.

I said.

Maybe I should have that.

For free, but get down.

It's too late.

Thank you.

You know it's been an adventure,

Oh, yes.

Oh, huh.

Yes.

Bob, will you milk, sir?

Please.

That will be your duty for now, hon.

Would sir at least wish me to take the soiled wedding linens?

That will not be necessary.

I've seen a ghost.

Two edits only seem too ghost.

They can all be your poor Arabel.

I'll never understand what she went so quick.

One day she's eating broiled duds, the next if you're not.

I heard twice because her face was half hidden by herpes.

No, this is shiuk donarong in turn.

Mind you don't shiuk on my tongue.

Sorry, ma'am.

Would sir like his bubbly milk?

Yes, please.

Without wishing to be bold, Miss just looked very beautiful

and I went and ate like a proper princess.

Yes, I heard Arabel was quite a beauty.

Arabel?

No, I meant you, mistress.

Oh, thank you, honey.

It's very kind.

Are you, am I?

Ooh.

He's got a good creamier done him.

Let's get it up there at flops.

Thank you.

I'm sorry.

No!

Master Edmund does not wish to be disturbed any further.

His spine is quite a flame from all the activity.

Thank you, Dorothy, but I would pass them.

Do you wish to burn down our home walking about with a naked flame?

No.

No, I only wish to give my husband his bubbly milk.

Oh!

Hello?

Hello.

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

Nothing, nothing so am I.

Nothing around like some rapid bloodhound.

Why do you screw your fist, sir?

Oh, um, I have a pain.

Most likely trapped winds.

I would ask that you do not purge yourself

of such gases in front of bird raiment.

Yes, sir.

Then...

Hello, it's my bubbly milk.

Oh, look!

This is a day for breakfast time.

Something written on it.

What's it say?

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.