All language subtitles for Taboo (2017) - 01x02 - Episode 2.WEB.

I attended Mr. Delaney's
funeral and a ghost appeared,

a son we all thought
dead in Africa.

James Keziah Delaney.

Dear Lord Almighty,
is that your brother?

Your father was poisoned.

I would say heavy doses
over a short period.

One thing Africa did not cure is
that I still love you.

Now he is returned

and Delaney's will leaves him
everything, including Nootka.

Britain and the United States
are currently at war.

Sell this land
for a reasonable price.

Nootka Sound is not for sale.

I can give you whatever you like...
boys, girls.

You have two hours to get out.

I know things about the dead.

I'd hoped to settle this matter
in a modern way,

but that is not going to be
possible. He's all yours.

This Nootka Sound is a curse.

It will bring the King and Empire
down upon your head.

sync and corrections by othelo
www.addic7ed.com

Pick it up.

So, you've no problem with
the principle of obeying me,

just the execution.

- Execution?
- Of Delaney.

I told you to take care of it.

It is taking a little longer
than I anticipated.

If you open up that ball of paper,

you'll see notice of your dismissal
from the East India,

dated two days hence.

Only Delaney's death
will render it obsolete.

This is going to bring
the house down around it.

Damn thing!

Beg your pardon.

So what's this for?

To keep things safe.

What things?

And Brace?

Go to hell!

You marched with Tremain.
Now you can march with me.

March where?
For what bloody purpose?

For the purpose of staying alive
right now.

You may choose to leave my services
if you wish, Mr. Brace.

What is it about
you bloody mad Delaneys?

Hang it in the meat locker.

Just keep the powder
out of the steam.

Bloody madhouse again!

While we're on the subject
of housekeeping,

I mean to have a word
with you about food.

- You're hungry?
- No.

Toward the end,
you said my father rarely ate.

Aye, he lived on air and honey beer.

- From where?
- From a man in Feather Lane.

Look, it was cheaper
than the tavern and, er,

- your father only gave me coppers.
- What man?

A man who's since died...

and his wife since left.

Why do you ask?

Because I am more generous
than my father.

From now on, we drink beer only
from bottles and wine from flasks.

That's all.

Go.

Gentlemen, Jardine,
Matheson and Company

would like to commence
this candle auction

with a published list
of 12 items for sale.

Each item on the list will be
auctioned for the length of time

it takes for its allotted candle
to burn down one inch.

When the inch is burned,
the last bid will win.

First item on the list...

a merchantman brig commandeered from
the Spanish fleet by Captain Reeves,

this last 12 months and one.

Currently, the brig is named
Felice Adventurero.

Who will start the bidding?

610. 620.

630. 640.

650. 660.

Do I have 670?

680.

690.

700.

£800.

I say!

Who is that?

Felice Adventurero
sold for £800 to...?

The Delaney Nootka Trading Company.

I spoke to old Grady afterwards.

He said Delaney told him he was
going to use the ship for trade.

- With whom? - He said the company
was called Delaney Nootka Trading.

He is planning to reopen up the
trading post to assert his ownership.

That fucking man
will hang for treason!

Sir, I already have
a strategy in my head.

Sir.

Why?

Why wouldn't he even look
at our offer?

Why would he defy logic
and the King?

I believe he is simply trying
to raise the price.

Why did he know so much about
the border negotiations, hmm?

How did he know
they were taking place in Ghent?

The location is a state secret.

And where did he get the money
to buy a ship?!

Hmm?

Jesus Christ!

Am I the only one in this company
with a brain?

They got to him first.

Either in Africa
or on the journey back to London.

One of their agents approached him,
briefed him,

gave him money
and secured his services.

Who, who did, sir?

The fucking Americans!

Atticus!

Atticus!

James Delaney.

Well, look at you.

Sit down.

Give me back my horse.

What's the biggest thing you saw?

For my files...
my book about the world.

What's the biggest thing
you saw in Africa?

An elephant.

How tall was it?

Atticus, give me my horse back.

100 foot high,
some of them, I've heard.

Atticus, you stole my horse
and you left your name...

so what do you want?

As you may recall,

I'm going to write a book one day
about all I know about the world.

- I don't care.
- And I've been to most places,

but not the devil's back yard
where you went.

What's the biggest thing you saw,
and the smallest?

And also the money
your father owed me.

Ah! See, there it is.

Nothing changes.

Are you more comfortable with
business than with learning, James?

£20 is what I'm owed.

I know you have gold...
you just bought a ship... so pay up.

- For what? - Well, you know,
when someone wants a man killed,

- they come to Dolphin.
- What, still?

My directory of knowledge
covers every fucking thing

from cradle to grave...
birth, love, death,

- it all goes into the river of my book.
- Hmm!

When someone wants a man killed,
they come to Atticus.

Well, about a year ago,
a gentleman comes in,

sat right there where you are now,

and says,
"How about old Horace Delaney,

"the mad bastard lighting fires
by the river?

"Say he falls in, the current
takes him, how about that?"

So I says to the gentleman...

"I sailed with old Horace
all around the world."

See? So I said,
"You go or I'll slit your gizzard

"and drop you in the current you had
planned with Captain Delaney."

And who was this gentleman?

What was the smallest thing you saw?

Human kindness.

An ant.

Was he a company man?

I'd say he wasn't East India.

More from up Leadenhall.

I could tell by the cut of his jib.

- So, how much will you give me for
not killing your father? - Nothing.

He's dead.

Well, £15...
...and the return of your horse.

I will give you £15,
minus the heels on my boots...

and I will need your eyes and ears
from now on as well.

Yeah, well, the enemies
you're stirring up, James,

you'll be needing them, my boy.

How is he this morning?

Toe and arse this morning, sir.

Oh, God.

I know about his toe.
What happened to his arse?

One can only imagine.

Solomon Coop, your Highness.

How is your toe this morning?

My toe is the first item of business.

You evidently don't read the papers.

Oh, you mean the blockade?

Fuck them!

Now, the red crosses are the
positions of the American ships.

They are attempting to blockade
our trading routes to the West.

And the blue crosses
are the Royal Navy ships,

um, preparing to engage.

Why did you make the Americans red?

Why did you make them red?
It's us who should be red.

We wear red.

The Admiralty drew up the map.

Now, they say that the Irish

are supplying the blockade
with tack and pork,

but they will soon
run short of powder.

Get the Admiralty
to draw the map again,

and make the British red
and the Americans...

green or something,
since they are so new.

But of course, your Highness.

I had a dream last night.

I was lying in the North Sea.
My body was England.

I was an island...
Coop, pay attention!

All these shrimps, like devils,
with little bows and arrows,

were surrounding me,
firing into my flesh.

You really must try and drink
more from the green bottle

and less from the pink.

It wasn't just a dream.

It was a premonition.

The shrimps were the American ships.

Hear me, Coop.

I am lying in the ocean like a whale

and no-one in my Privy Council
will raise a musket barrel!

You sail this close to my nose,

a kind of classless rebels,

and you show me red crosses.

Your Highness,
they will run out of powder.

And I have run out
of fucking patience.

Tell the Admiralty,
although the gossips say

that all Prinny wants is
flowers and waltzes,

in truth, Prinny also demands
the American ships be sunk,

the survivors hanged,

the bodies of the drowned nailed
to the church walls of Ireland

to stop their rebels
making common cause.

- Do you want me to write this down?
- Yes!

- What the fuck is this?
- Oh, it's, um, from the East India.

Fuck them as well.

I intend to.

- Who are you?
- Winter.

- Miss Winter.
- No, just Winter.

- Just Winter.
- I live with the whores, but I'm a virgin.

- Why are you following me?
- To save your life.

Mistress Helga gave information
to a man with a silver tooth.

I spy on her.
From the conversation,

he meant to do you harm,
and the mistress knew it.

She wants you dead,
so she can have her rooms back.

Hmm.

How old are you?

13.

Why would she keep you
and not rent you?

Too ugly.

She says, one day, I'll catch
a man and he'll carry me away.

Someone like you.

I spied you, too.

Tell me about this man
with the silver tooth...

Winter.

I can show you where he's moored,
if you want.

He sleeps on this ship alone?

He takes a particular girl abroad
and does mean things,

but there's no-one else.

Are you tricking me?

No.

They say you was in Africa.

What is it like?

Is everybody naked?

Hmm.

I want to go to America.

Promise to take me
to America one day.

New York or Boston?

The current here heads for Gravesend.

You know navigation.

Yes.
Us larks all want to be sailors.

- That's his sloop.
- Right.

Why do you even believe
I'm telling the truth?

Because...

What are you going to do?

Well, I shall ask him
why he's been sent to kill me...

and by who.

Stay.

The very same smell.

Same smell as what?

As your father's clothes when
he would go dancing on the foreshore

and light his fires.

Brace, where did my father keep
his most important things?

What is it you're looking for?

The Nootka Sound treaty.

It may be written on deerskin.

So what you're saying is...

"Brace, do you have any idea where
I can find ma ain death warrant?"

I may need to prove to a tribunal

that the land was acquired by treaty
and not by conquest.

Tribunal?

Yeah.

Or they'll proudly try to seize it
and claim it as a spoil of war.

Sir, I have seen
nae deerskin treaty,

nor have I seen fairies
or water sprites.

But what I do have are Malay coins,
enough to bury you.

Prayer beads,
not enough to get you to heaven.

And hashish,
enough to ease my grieving

when the East India Company
slit your throat,

which, of course, they will.

You have appointments today.

Breakfast will be out
in half an hour...

if you can contrive
to stay alive that long.

Ah!

Ah...

Thank you.

That was turning out to be
a long, drawn-out process.

I'd benefit from a period
of reflection.

Do you have a girl here
called Winter?

You can have any girl you want.

I do not have a girl of that name.

No?

A mulatto?

I would kill for a mulatto...
the Danish pay double.

Hmm...

I met her.

- People are saying you're mad.
- I am.

I like to see what lies beneath.

Hmm?

You have goodness in you.

- What goodness?
- You do, you do.

You have goodness in you...
I can see it in your eyes...

and you have the same eyes as her.

Winter, she's your daughter,
isn't she?

And that's why you don't rent her.

Am I wrong?

I would rather that you worked
with me rather than against me.

- Work at what?
- Necessary evil.

And whorehouses are full of secrets,
and secrets, to me, are weapons.

I would very much like
to talk business...

but I would like you
inside of me, Mr. Delaney.

It's my first condition.

I need to know where
Mr. Silver Tooth is hiding.

Your new friend.

Do you know him?

I will ask after the Malay. Ah...

the Malay?

Hmm.

Thank you for your help.

Mr. Delaney?

The Felice Adventurero...
it's all yours now, sir.

Thank you.

What was this ship?

What was this ship?

Me and you. See you. Ah.

...Ah!

Help me! Captain!

Holy Christ!
Where the hell have you been?

I made a fire in your room
for the mice.

In Parliament today, they'll be
debating the beating of servants.

The Whigs want to protect you.

I believe
that would lead to anarchy.

Are you not ever hungry?

I ate in the whorehouse.

To qualify as food,
it needs to be solid.

I made some coffee...
that'll be stone-cold.

Aren't we all?

Where the hell are you going now?

Someone has been brought to London
to try and kill me.

I want to speak to them
and ask them why.

Clean it.

I'm looking for Dr. Dumbarton.
Follow the smell inside.

- I'm off-duty.
- I have a wound in my left shoulder.

- A bullet wound?
- A splinter...

from the mast of a ship
called the Yankee Prize...

that was struck by a Yankee ball.

So I should call you comrade?

We shall see.

How God makes his colours,
I know not,

but I'm pursuing him through
his chemicals.

They said you were a doctor.

A sheep is a sheep,
but also meat and wool.

This is my pastime...
fixing colours in cloth.

The demand for flags is always high
in times of war.

So you are three things, yes?

You are a doctor...

you are a merchant...

and you are a spy.

Unless you tell me who sent you,

I will have to ask you
to leave at the point of a gun.

A man who called himself Colonay.

Uh-huh.

Not yet in Hell?

No, Ponta Delgada and the Azores.

Similar.

- You should know the wound in the shoulder
is no longer used by us as a signal. - No?

No, we change the codes
when we think that perhaps

the scum British have overtaken it.

And you do not trust
the name Colonay?

What do you want?

I want a line of conference

with the President
of the 15 states of America.

My name is James Delaney.

That name means nothing.

But it will to the President
and his representatives,

who are travelling
to the negotiations in Ghent.

The border between the United States
and Canada is being drawn up

in a very... quiet...
closed room, no?

You see, I have something
of great value to your nation.

Something the British are
trying to kill me for.

And what?

You seek protection?

I have demands.

Demands?

You tell Carlsbad my name.

And who's Carlsbad?
Carlsbad is the head

of the American Society of
Secret Correspondence in London.

I know that name,
because Colonay told me it.

He was drunk.

He was trying
to push his jelly up a whore.

Carlsbad will know my name
and know my business.

I'm afraid you've used
the wrong words.

Get out.

Do you treat sickness
of the mind, Doctor?

Just keep walking.

You're mad to have even come here.

We are an angry nation.

Yeah.

I'm counting on it.

Good day.

Post for you, madam.

I intend to begin by reading your
father's last will and testament,

and then I shall try to reason
with his creditors.

Have you decided yet
what you will do with Nootka?

- Yes, I will use it for trade.
- With whom?

- There are only savages at Nootka.
- Then I will trade with them.

- I hear you bought a ship.
- I did,

then I discovered that it was
formerly used for carrying slaves.

I checked the vessel's log and,
before it was taken by the Spanish,

it was once owned by
the Honourable East India Company.

The shackles were all cast
in London.

- East India don't deal slaves.
- No, no, they don't.

But they do run cloth
and trade beads to Tangiers

with the Scarfe family,

and then slaves to Trinidad...

from Bunce Island...

through Spanish privateers.

For one with such close connections,
I am surprised that you don't know.

And what connections are they?

Mr. Thoyt...

you have been my father's lawyer
for the past 40 years.

And in all that time,
you reported every detail

of his most intimate business to his
enemies at the East India Company.

You are their whore.

The same as almost
everyone else in this city,

apart from those who are
actually labelled a whore.

Come on, James.

When you left London, the East India
was a trading company.

Now it is God Almighty.

The Prince Regent fears it.

No government in the world
dares to stand up to it.

It owns the land, the ocean,
the fucking sky above our heads.

It has more men
and weapons and ships

than all
the Christian nations combined.

You think all who submit are evil.

No.

We are submitting to the way
the world has become.

All the good men in London...

who fight them
are washed up at Tilbury.

They could hold a congress.

Or perhaps they could simply board
a ship and sail to Boston,

where the Company dare not go.

So...

you'll add treason to the list?

The King and Company
after your head.

It's all rabble...
pitch makers, carpenters.

Your father didn't pay any bills
for four years.

They feel deeply aggrieved
and talk of seizures.

I'm not being at all fanciful
when I ask if you are armed.

I am armed.

There he is! Shame on you!

Let the man through!

Where's the money, Delaney?!

Gentleman! You are all here,

subsequent to a written notice of
Horace Delaney's death.

I'll deal first...

with the beneficiaries and then

with the division straight after.

I said straight after!

Shut up! Let them get on with it.

We've waited long enough.

Mr. Delaney died a widower.

He is survived by two children,
both present at this division.

Of his daughter, Zilpha Annabel
Delaney, now Zilpha Annabel Geary,

there is no mention in
this last will and testament.

To his son, James Keziah Delaney,

is left the only existing assets
of the Delaney estate,

including the Nootka trading post
and landing ground on the Pacific

north-west coast of the Americas, in
what was formerly Spanish America.

Whatever you have, you will sell...

There must be order
for me to continue!

- We can leave now.
- No. We will haunt this nigger to justice!

He's already haunted.

Come.

Be sure of this, Delaney!

That legacy is your death sentence!

Out of my way!

I must have order
in order to continue!

I dug new foundations
for that old bastard...

and I never got a penny.

The son does not inherit
the debts of the father.

James Delaney has declared a new
trading company in his own name.

And my father's debts amounted to a
sum total of £215 and 17 shillings.

Behold, £215 and 17 shillings.

Mr. Thoyt will pay each one of you
exactly what you are due,

but you will form an orderly line.

You will form an orderly line.

Orderly!

I didn't expect that.
He's a better man than his father.

Hurry up!

At least he's sorting
his father's debts.

What I'm owed isn't
in that pile of coins...

since I'm not listed
on the final division notice.

You see? The old skinflint
didn't even pay for his whores!

And what exactly is it
that my father owed you?

He owed me a lifetime of care.

A lifetime of devotion.

He owed me kisses and love.

He owed me a home and a fire
and perhaps children some day.

In short, he owed me all that is due
from a husband to a wife.

My name is Lorna Delaney,
formerly Lorna Bow,

and, two years ago in Dublin,

Horace Delaney and I were married.

And I have proof
that I am his widow.

I'll have my clerks
divide up the silver.

Madam?

Come to my office.

Calm, pretty, certain, fragrant.

Calm, pretty, certain, fragrant.

This is an Irish document.

It may take a little time
to validate.

I can wait.

But Mr. Delaney's son
knew nothing of any marriage.

How would he? He was in Africa.

But he often spoke of you.
He was very, very proud.

- Why Dublin?
- Well, he was on business.

Yes, but your business is here,
isn't it?

You're an actress who appeared
on stage at the Theatre Royal

in Covent Garden in a play
called The Painted Savage.

I found a programme with an
illustration in an empty drawer.

Well, if my likeness was in there,
the drawer wasn't empty.

If the paperwork from Dublin
is validated,

Miss Bow will have
a legal claim against his estate

as widow. Mrs. Delaney is my name.

Bow was the name that
I used for the stage.

- Are you a good actress?
- Your father thought so.

And was that before
or after he lost his mind?

Well, love is a kind of madness,
isn't it, Mr. Thoyt?

Or have you never experienced it?

My father was a very sick
and old man.

Do you have proof of consummation?

I have letters, many letters
professing his feelings for me.

A line from memory is...

"Oh, Lorna, it is in a moment

"that I would leave
this cursed house by the river

"and go to the Americas with you
and live there, naked and savage,

"and yet, we would have
each other and be together."

That kind of thing.

Do you possess
any other documents of his?

- I have letters.
- Other than letters?

Well, what kind of documents?

Well, proof will come
from pen and ink.

I will dispatch an enquiry
to the Trinity Church in Dublin

and request a personal account
from the priest. Until then,

I suggest you two refrain from
any further contact with each other.

Well, I have no love
for the theatre.

And I spend very little time
in German brothels.

Was he in there? The man...
did you see him in the room?

Yeah. It was him that came to the
door and was indeed in the room.

He was the one who declared
your legacy a death sentence.

- Hmm.
- You, er...

You want him to fall
into the river, James?

No, the river will take him
of its own accord.

Here.

Ah, Thoyt, sit down.

So, gentlemen...

tell us of this widow.

Can none of you read?

Or are you all too busy trying
to catch my eye and only pretending

to read the agenda before
stretching your necks again?

You, what's your name?

Godfrey, Sir. Well...

Godfrey, read aloud item nine
on the agenda list of ten.

"During the final division of
the estate of Horace Delaney,

"there appeared... an actress."

An actress.

Who claims to be the widow.

A dispatch arrived from Dublin.
The marriage is confirmed

and is legal.

What is the significance
of this, Mr. Godfrey?

It's not written down.
You have to work it out.

Pettifer. Hmm?

The girl is an opportunity.

Thoyt, tell them the possibilities
of this "opportunity".

She would have a claim
against James Delaney for

shared ownership of Nootka.

Bravo!

A whore actress to the rescue
of the mighty East.

It is not a foregone conclusion.
She would need to file suit.

Oh, Mr. Thoyt.

This widow will have
sole claim on Nootka

in the event of
James Delaney's death.

An event which may be imminent.

Ladies and gentlemen,
please, welcome to London

violin virtuoso Nicolas Mori.

Tonight, composer Ludwig van
Beethoven's Sixth Symphony.

James, please, don't.

What?

I missed you.
I couldn't bear to see you alone.

Do you know, this is so old,
I could even laugh at you?

And yet you came outside to see me.

Because, otherwise,
you would've come to me

- and made very loud declarations.
- I would, yes.

Is it my loudness that troubles you?

In the forest, no.

In the jungle, no.

You used to straighten your skirt

and march away like nothing
had ever happened.

Who marched away?

And thank God you did.

God?

- This is very simple, James.
- Hmm?

Take away a little
ancient history.

You live in the East,
I live in the West,

there are no practical difficulties.

Apart from that great big river
that connects us.

Did you really eat flesh?

Why don't you tell your friends
that you're sick

and you can come
and hear everything?

I would laugh at you,
but you're not well.

- Ah, ah, ah!
- And I can't stand to have you

- this close to me...
- Well, that is a shame, isn't it?

Because I will always be
this close to you.

Won't I?

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