All language subtitles for bss01e07

Somewhere under there
is our thief.

Where's the page?

Your schedule is up here.

You want to kill Hamund?
Then you have to kill them all.

Ah!
When you
and Miss Guthrie

were plotting
this little coup,

the two of you come up
with some idea

how to deal
with the captain
when he returns?

You don't know where
he's gone, do you?

You could be strong again.

You could take
this whole island from me.

You know exactly
what it is you need to do,

where it is you need
to go to do it.

I certainly didn't expect
to find you down in the hold,

not after you betrayed
Miss Guthrie on behalf
of her father.

Found in Bryson's cabin.
It's from the Barlow woman.

She wants a pardon
for Flint in Boston.

She says we're going
to kill him when we learn
of his betrayal.

The Scarborough!

Man overboard!

It's Billy! He fell!
We can't turn back.

Easter is upon us--

an opportunity for renewal
and rebirth...

both in spirit
and the flesh.

And yet we may also
ask ourselves,

"When the spirit is renewed
and the body resurrected,

what becomes of the sin?"

Will not a trace
of it linger

to mock and torment us,

to remind us of the roiling
pit of despair

that awaits the unrepentant
beyond this life?

And yet does it not often
feel as if life itself
is the pit?

Yah!

Ma'am!

Captain Flint's returned.

Captain.

Captain.

Captain!

Sorry, you were asking
about the Scarborough?

I was, specifically
how the hell did she
find you out there?

A trap
laid by your father,

for which he will
be answering as soon
as I'm finished here.

He won't be
the only one, I assume.

Your friend
Mrs. Barlow understood
she was responsible

for keeping him
under lock and key.

You trusted her.

We trusted her
and she betrayed us.

Perhaps he managed to secrete
a message past her men.

That hardly rises
to the level of betrayal.

Captain, yesterday morning,
my father walked into town,

stood out on the steps
of the warehouse

and proclaimed to the world
that the Guthries' business

is finished here in Nassau.

What was the reaction?

The men elected
representatives,

we agreed upon
an agenda,

and we spoke about the merits
of mutual cooperation over tea.

So it was bad?

Bad?
It was fucking chaos.

Yeah.
For about an hour,

I thought they had
burned down all of Nassau.

But it's been handled.

As of last night,
I've instituted a new
trading system

and the street
has embraced it.

A consortium with myself
at its head,

Captains Naft and Lawrence
as a means of shipping,

and Mr. Frasier
as its corporate seal.

Hmm.

All this since yesterday?

I will address the situation
with Mrs. Barlow immediately.

You have my word.

Captain, one more thing.

The consortium
wasn't founded easily.

It required the assistance
of a few other parties.

Among them indispensably
was Mr. Silver.

Is that so?

I tell you this
because I imagine

you might still hold
some resentment toward him.

And I've given him
my word in exchange
for his assistance

that I'll stand between
him and your resentment.

In other words,

if Mr. Silver doesn't
return from the Urca,

you and I may find ourselves
with problems of our own.

What a day I missed.

Come on.

The fuck, Jack?

It's gone limp again.

Really?
I hadn't noticed.

Well, do you want
something up your ass?

No.

No, thank you.

What the fuck
is your problem?

I'm terribly sorry
if I've ruined your morning,

but at the moment
I happen to have
quite a lot on my mind.

Ship purloined,
captain and crew
a distant memory,

no prospects at all,

except for this shithole
of a brothel,

which by some miracle
of economics seems incapable
of turning a profit.

How can you
run a brothel here
and not make money?

I have no fucking idea!

Ain't you always
the one telling everyone
how fucking clever you are?

Figure it out.

Don't you dare
leave me here.

Don't you--

Alice made you
her porridge.

Thicker than snot,
but it'll help you
get your strength back.

A couple of us are wondering
what you plan to do now.

Why would anyone
care what I do?

Darling, you're all
anyone's talking about
out there.

All of us wondering
what kind of voodoo
you used

to get eight
of Vane's crew
to just...

up and disappear.

Haven't you heard?

They left for Port Royal.

Hmm, and I'm Henry
fuckin' Avery.

If you've got any thought
of working here again,

I wouldn't wait too long.
What do you mean?

Mr. Rackham's got no idea
how to run this place.

We've all got a hand
in his pocket.

Mapleton would tell him,

but she's too busy
stealing for herself.

Idelle! Downstairs.
Customer.

All I'm saying is get in
while the getting's good.

Jesus!
The fuck
did they do to you?

Postelection initiation,
I'm told.

All done in good fun.

At least...

I think it was all done
in good fun.

Congratulations,
Mr. Quartermaster.
Thank you.

Unfortunate,
to say the least,

that we find ourselves
in the need of one.

Yes, very.

But I'm humbled
by the crew's faith in me.

Well, if Billy
were here,

I'm sure he would
agree with me

when I say that
the crew chose well.

Well, much to do.

Mr. Dufresne,
quartermaster.

Who would've seen
that coming?

I think he's up to it.
I'm sure he is.

I just wouldn't have thought
the crew capable of coming
to that conclusion.

Well, chew a man's
throat out, it tends
to make an impression.

You'll be heading
to see her now, then?

Mrs. Barlow.

You said you'd be
holding her to account.

I assumed you'd
not want to wait.

I'll be back
before dark.

We'll continue preparations
for our departure then.

Just one more
thing, Captain,

before you leave
to see Mrs. Barlow.

I think you and I need
to discuss the letter
that Billy found...

and why exactly it is
that she believes

you're gonna betray
your crew.

Hey, get back.

Jesus, Randall.

Mate.

Randall would like
a word with you.

Council just voted.
He's out.
Out?

I suppose it's my fault.

I raised the concern
about the fire hazard

a one-legged man
in the galley might
present.

And like most things
before the council,

it spun out of control.

What's that got
to do with me?

He's got a raw deal,
Mr. Silver.

The least we can do
is let him say his piece.

Randall.

It's not fair.
I can cook.

Yes, I think you might
have mentioned that.

You know, it's been
my experience

setbacks such as these,
they often go hand in hand

with new and unexpected
opportunities.

He's a thief.

What are you
talking about, Randall?

He thought I was asleep
at Miss Guthrie's tavern.

I heard him talking.

Wasn't Singleton
stole the page,
it was him.

I don't know
what he's talking about.

Randall, are you
being truthful?

He said he has
the schedule in his head,

that he learned it
to stop Flint from
murdering him.

All due respect,
but he spent the last two days

beneath a rather heavy
cloud of opiates.

He doesn't know what he heard.
Get the quartermaster in here.

Right now.

Bear with me.

One minute, please.

Uh, apologies.

Give me it.

Ah! Here it is.

It is with great pleasure
that we shall now commence

our inaugural meeting
of the Guthrie Frasier
Naft Lawrence Consortium

for the Purposes
of Shipping and Trade

in the West Indies,
Excelsior.

Reginald, add to the agenda
discussion of a shorter name.

Jesus.

First item of business...

our maiden voyage.

Captain Lawrence,

the status
of the Black Hind, please.

We've begun alterations
to expand our holds.

But as I predicted...
Ma'am.

...a good number
of the crew have defected

upon learning
of their new vocation.

Any suggestions
for a new source of labor
would certainly be welcomed.

What happened to you?

I told him
to get the fuck out,
but he wouldn't go.

He who?

Quite the story
I heard out there

from the Walrus' men.

They say you
rallied the slaves

in the Andromache's hold,

single-handedly turned
the tides against Bryson.

Imagine what they'd say
if they knew that
you're the reason

that they had
to chase that ship
in the first place.

I would like the chance
to explain myself.
I'm listening.

What I did,
I did out of love.

And with every intention
of staying here with you
to help you find a safer,

more settled life,
a life you deserve.

It was not a betrayal.

It was--

It was not
your decision to make.

My life is my own.

It's not
Benjamin Hornigold's,
it's not Charles Vane's,

it's not my father's
and it's not yours.

Do you understand?

You're right.
I'm sorry.

And what?

Now you think you can
just waltz back in here

and pick up from
where we left off
like nothing happened?

Where else would I go?

I belong to you.

Chattel property
of the Guthrie estate.

You-- you know I've never
seen you that way.

Eleanor, I must ask
a favor of you.

He's waiting.

Sit.

You wish to do business?

There's a place...

there's a place
not far from here.

A place fueled by plunder.

A place of great wealth

run by its crews
and flying no flag.

I know of Nassau.

What of it?

She's weak,

so she's ripe
for the taking.

A man with enough strength
could get his hands

wrapped around her throat
in a matter of hours,

control the flow
of trade, get rich.

My men are rich.

Wood sells well
and we don't rely
on the mercy of the sea.

No man is rich who could have
a lot more by doing less.

When you sailed
as captain of these men,

they sacked Campeche
for you.

They sacked
Cartagena for you.

Give me a dozen of them

and I will bring
Nassau in line.

What's your name?

Charles Vane.

I know that name.

These are my men.

Why would I let any of them
call you captain?

Each man gets a share,

plus one share to you
in tribute for every six men.

That's a sizeable piece
of a fucking fortune.

And all you need do
is give them your leave.

How did you know
to seek me out?

Is my name spoken
as far as Nassau?

Is there someone there
that connects us?

Or is it something else?

The fuck do you care?

Do we have a deal
or don't we?

Three men.

My tribute-- a share
for every three men.

Four shares in all.

Yes or no?

You're not answering
the question.

I'm trying to answer
the question.

So you're saying
she's lying?

That the letter
is just a fiction?

I'm saying that
my relationship with her
is a complex one...

that it's hard for me
to understand at times.

But what is clear
is that she desperately
wants to leave this place

and will say anything
in order to make me
go with her.

Oh, for fuck's sake,
enough.

This is what we do.

You orate and you dissemble,
and I look the other way,

convince myself
that supporting you

is in everybody's
interests.

But not today.

Not after what happened
last night.

After what happened
last night?

What happened
to Billy, Captain?

He fell.

Why? What are you
saying happened?

He thought
you saw us all
as expendable.

Expendable?
Pawns to be used
for your own ends.

I have fought and bled
alongside my men.

I have sacrificed more
than you could possibly
know for their futures.

I know what happened
on the Maria Aleyne.

You told me
the man you killed

was reaching for a weapon.

You told me
it was self-defense,

but there were no weapons
in that cabin.

I went and I looked.

And I still kept
my mouth shut.

I don't know why,

but I know you used the crew
to assassinate those people.

Men died that day.

Our men.

And I suspect
there's been other times

when we've been
expendable to you.

And if yesterday
was one of those days,

then you and I have
a problem,

because Billy
wasn't expendable

to me.

He was a son to me.

Then perhaps
you should have acted

like a better father
towards him.

What the fuck
did you just say?

You let his suspicions
run rampant.

You let his paranoia fester
to the point at which

when he should
have been focused
on the Scarborough's guns,

he was focused on hurling
unfounded accusations at me.

So I'm to blame
for what happened to Billy?

Perhaps if you
had intervened

when he first came to you
with these fantasies,

perhaps if you
helped him understand

the world in which
he lived...

he'd still be here
right now.

Where are you going?

I'm tired of this.

I'm tired of the energy
it takes to believe you.

To believe in you.

I'm taking this to the crew.
You're their problem now.

I'm taking it.

After the Urca
has been secured

and the money warehoused
before distribution...

I intend to sequester
a portion of it.

Sequester?
A portion of it.

Every man on that crew
will still be richer

than their wildest dreams.

But you know
as well as I do

that no matter how much
money they're given,

they will drink, whore
and piss it away.

Now, they have
a chance at something
better than that,

but it isn't gonna
happen unless somebody
makes it happen.

You're lying to them.

And if I don't, who will?

Everyone's lied to
for their own good--

every mother who tells
their child

that everything
will be all right,

every soldier
who's told by his commander

that courage
will see them through,

every subject
who's told by--

His king?

Is that what you are
to us now?

A sovereign
levying a tax?

If no one knows,
everyone wins.

Don't play games with me.
I'm quite serious.

Who loses?

Absent their
worst instincts,

their pride, their greed,
their suspicion,

in the light
of pure reason,

who says no to this?

They'll be rich men
in a safe place

rather than dead thieves
on a long rope.

I'm gonna
deliver them, Hal.

I'm gonna deliver them
into something better.

I will sail
with you tomorrow
to take this prize.

I'll follow your lead
in battle.

And I'll take your orders
as consort.

But when it's done,

you and I will quietly
go our separate ways.

And I'll thank you
not to protest.

No one else knows
about this?

Look, as far as I can tell,
it's just the three of us.

Then again, this is Randall
we're talking about.

If he had
told anyone else,
we'd have heard.

Does it make
any sense to you?

Well, Flint finding
that page on Singleton

does seem
awfully convenient
in hindsight.

Jesus.

A fine mess here,
Randall.

You're a thief.

Quite sure you're wrong.

But the good news
is it's not too late
to repair the damage.

I know what I heard.

Randall, you were doped.

You have no idea
what you heard.

Say you're successful
in convincing our friends
out there

to believe your story.

I'm not sure you've given
proper consideration
to what happens next.

Do you think
they'd just haul me up
in front of the crew,

air your story,
and that's the end of it?

No, Randall.

I think you've forgotten
one very important detail.

The money.

That has to be considered,
does it not?

If we go tell the crew now,
there's a very good chance

they simply hang the cook
right along with the captain.

If Randall's right,

that would be the end
of the Urca hunt.

Are you suggesting
we keep this secret?

Lie to the crew?
Right along with Flint?

He's suggesting
that acting hastily

could come with
a very hefty price.

Even if I was convinced,
there's still Randall
to contend with.

Are you suggesting
there's some way to
guarantee his silence?

I can think of one way.

They wouldn't.
Wouldn't they?

A one-legged halfwit
versus a chance
at a fortune?

The odds are decidedly
not in your favor.

Well, you were confused
or delirious.

Take your pick,
but tell them now.

Then even if they wanted
to go to the crew,

they'd have lost
their chief witness.

And no one has to die.

You're a thief.
I'm a thief.
Right.

Well, good luck, Randall.

It was nice knowing you.

For as long as you
sail with him,

his orders are my orders.

And when your work is done,
this place will have you back.

They'll serve you well.

Is something wrong?

You were one of ours.

You were just a boy
yourself.

Could not have been easy
coming back here.

Must have taken
great strength.

Go on.

Take these men.

Make me rich.

You don't know me,
but you once did...

when I was
the lowest among you.

Now I've returned.

And I offer you a chance
to be free of this place.

I'm Charles Vane.

And you were
a strong crew once,

proper pirates.

Feared, as you
should have been,

before he dragged you
away from the sea,

before he convinced you
to live here like animals.

Because it suits
his weaknesses.

There is a place
not far from here

where strong men live
lives of pleasure, not labor,

a place where you

could be feared and respected
once again.

Follow me,
and I will show you
what life is.

Are you done?
Are you done?

Oh!

I'm proud of you.

Randall.

I need a word
with Mr. Silver alone.

What's so funny?

Just that I warned
Randall something
like this was coming.

I wouldn't be
so sure about that.

Mr. De Groot's inclined
to hand you over to the crew.

He's given me
exactly five minutes,

at which point he intends
to call council so Randall
can share his story,

after which
our hands are clean

and you are most likely,
well, dead.

What's that?

A page from one
of Dr. Howell's manuals

and your last chance at living
to see the sun rise again.

You have exactly five minutes
to commit it to memory,

after which you
will reproduce this page
to the best of your ability.

If you can do so
to Mr. De Groot's
satisfaction,

then maybe-- just maybe
he can be convinced

to keep your secret
for the sake of the Urca haul.

It's a test?
Exactly.

It's a terrible test.
Believe me, I'm aware.

If I was the thief,
which I am by no means
admitting,

I could have
read that schedule
a hundred times over

before I was forced
to destroy it.

Whether or not I can
memorize this page

in five minutes
proves nothing.

Mr. De Groot
doesn't believe
that he can trust

the information
inside your head,

certainly not enough
to risk his own life,

not to mention
committing poor Randall
to an early grave.

He says if he's
to go down that road,
he needs certainty.

It's the best I could do.

Four minutes.

Wait.

Compliments
of the new consortium.

A dead cargo
is a worthless cargo.

Did you ask her?

I implored Miss Guthrie
to facilitate your release.

I told her she would not
have her guns without yours
and the others' help.

What did she say?

She said she would
take it under advisement.

I warned you this place
would not be any different.

But do not give up hope.

I'll need to know
your secret.

To putting up with her.

My decision whether or not
to partake in this consortium

was predicated
on her agreement

to lift the ban
on Charles Vane's crew.

I understand she did.

Begrudgingly.

And shortly after,
all eight disappeared.

Left for Port Royal,
I am told.

And you think Eleanor had
something to do with this?

It doesn't matter
either way.

Short of my retrieving
eight corpses from
her armoire,

nothing would dissuade
the other captains

from the course
that she's set now.

Which I'd wager she knew
would be the case.

I'd wager you're right.

I asked you once
to get her under control.

The truth is there is
no controlling her, is there?

You forced her hand
in front of men

whose respect she demands

in order to run
this business.

Really, Captain,

what choice
did you give her?

Mr. Guthrie isn't here.

He's taken sanctuary
on Mr. Underhill's estate.

Do you know
what you've done?

What madness possessed you
to write that letter?

I tried to tell you.

Billy found it.

If he'd have shown anyone
before I discovered him,

but for dumb luck,

I'd be dead.

I'm sorry.

You know I would
never intentionally put you
in any kind of danger.

What was your intent?

What was it?

To destroy everything
we've tried to build here
for the past 10 years?

Or was it just
to embarrass me?

To show you a way out
of all this, to free you.

A way out?

Have you no memory
of how we got here?

What they took from us?

What does it matter now?

What does it matter?

What does it matter
what happened then

if we have no life now?

Because there is
no life here.

There is no joy here.
There is no love here.

There's no love here.
What are you talking about?!

What do you think
I'm out there fighting for

if not to make
all those things
possible here?

You'll fight a war
so we can make a life?

You don't get one
without the other,
my sweet.

No.
You're wrong.

I sent that letter
to show you that you're wrong.

There is a life in Boston.

There is joy there
and music

and peace.

The door is open.

I've opened it for you.

And it requires
no war and no blood
and no sacrifice.

It requires
an intolerable sacrifice.

To accept a pardon?

To apologize.

Apologize?
Who will you be
apologizing to?

To England!

They took
everything from us.

And then they
called me a monster.

The moment I sign
that pardon,

the moment
I ask for one,

I proclaim to the world
that they were right.

This ends

when I grant them
my forgiveness...

not the other way around.

This path you're on...

it doesn't lead
where you think it does.

If he were here,
he'd agree with me.

Three days with
the Urca's schedule,

three minutes with
whatever the fuck this is.

I'll remind them.

Before you go,
just one question.

Harebrained
as this test was,

you had to be
quite certain

I was the thief
to even think of it.

And I don't believe you have
near that kind of faith

in our friend Randall here.

Who told you about me?

Billy?

Randall,
we need to talk.

You're a thief.
Randall, pay attention.

Right now at this moment,
it is just as likely

you're the one
that dies as I am.

What if there was
a way neither of us
had to die today?

I go to the crew
and I offer to be
your caretaker.

I'll promise to look
after you day and night

and give
my personal guarantee
should anything happen,

it comes out of my share.

I think I could persuade
the crew to accept that.

And then you're back
on the ship.

All you have to do
is change your story.

You're a thief.

Are you fucking
kidding me?!

All right.

Yes, I'm a thief.

I took the page
and I shouldn't have.

I should have
counted my blessings

to be let off
that merchant ship.

But what can I say,
Randall?

I'm not a joiner.
I never have been.

But I'm willing
to do it now.

So pull your head
from your ass

and let's both live
to fight another day.

Sorry, Mr. Silver.

You're a thief.
Yes, we understand.

Randall?

You're a thief.

Randall, what's gotten
into you?

You're a thief.

What the hell
is going on here?

It would appear
Mr. Randall

has reconsidered
his position.

If you intend to accuse
Mr. Silver before the crew,

you do so
without a witness.

Give us the room,
please.

As you can imagine,
money is tight right now.

The Walrus crew
are unwilling to manumit
a hold full of slaves,

nor do I have
the funds to purchase
their release outright.

So here's what I've done.

The able-bodied males
will be taken

onto the Black Hind
under Captain Lawrence

to fill a recent rash
of desertions.

The consortium
has reached an agreement

with Mr. Dufresne
of the Walrus

to trade future
subsidies and credits
to cover the cost.

Six women remain
thereafter,

for whom I was able
to scrounge together

enough money
to cover their cost.

They'll be offered a wage
in my employ.

Thank you.

As for us--
Eleanor, I--

I know how much
you worry about me.

But I hope the events
of the last few days

prove that I can
handle myself.

It does.

I'm not blind to Flint.

I know he keeps
things from me.

But there's no reason
for you to feel threatened

by my partnership
with him.

If you're to stay
with me, I need to know
that I can trust you.

Eleanor, Captain Hornigold
has extended me

an offer to join his crew.

And you've accepted?

If you need me,
I will be here for you.

But as long as you insist
on pursuing this course
with Captain Flint,

I will always be tempted
to interfere.

Please get out.

I'm sorry, but the income
you've reported for
the past two days

is simply too low
to be believed.

I'm going to have to ask
you to vacate your room,
make way for someone else.

Oh, yes, yes.

Here it comes.

Ugh.

I'll have you know
I have slit men's throats
while they have wept,

begging my forbearance,
and slept soundly
that very night.

If you were hoping
to manipulate me, you are
barking up the wrong tree.

The wrong tree.

Jesus Christ.

Mr. Rackham.
What?

Five pieces.

Oh, look who's
up and about.

Who did you just service?

What's that?

Who paid you
those coins?

It was Captain Hallindale
I saw leaving your room,
was it not?

A man whose sole desire
is to be swaddled in canvas

while he sucks
on a fat, milkless breast

like a nursing child.

And the price we have
always charged for mothering

is 20 pieces, not five.

Who the fuck do you think
you're accusing?

A handjob pays five.

All Captain Hallindale
had time for today was a tug.

Will your story hold
when I ask him
to confirm it?

Or will you confess
your crime now

and pray that
our new patron
is more forgiving

than Mr. Noonan
would have been?

I swear on
the body and blood
of our Lord Jesus Christ

this will never
happen again.

For your sake,
it had better not.

In my experience, if you
do not discipline a whore,

she will always
take advantage.

Get your fucking house
in order.

Hmm?

I thought you were
going to report back

once you returned
from Mrs. Barlow's.

Do you really think
it's wise to get pissed

in full view
of any of your men
that may stumble in here

just before
they're about to embark

on the most dangerous
journey of their lives?

Wise?

Probably not.

But then there was
36 hours before castoff,

so I thought

why not live dangerously?

36 hours
is plenty of time

for them to find reason
to doubt you.

Perhaps a little doubt
in me is called for.

What happened out there?

Tell me

we're not crazy,
you and I.

Crazy?

To put ourselves
through all this

when the outcome's
so uncertain.

The outcome is only uncertain
for those who disbelieve.

I believe in this place.

And I believe if there's
anyone who can do
what's necessary

to make it
something better,

it's you.

Oi, where are you going?

Eyes on Randall
at all times--

wasn't that the deal?

Randall, you are
a fucking puzzle.

Part of me thinks
you must be the luckiest
halfwit in the colonies,

the way this all
played out.

But part of me suspects
there's something else
going on here.

I'm forced to wonder
if you didn't orchestrate
this whole little drama

knowing it would corner me
into securing your return
to the crew.

I'm forced to consider
the possibility

there is a lot more
of the old Randall

in that head of yours
than you'd like to let on.

That you're
no halfwit at all,

but a very shrewd
operator

who's managed
to gain the benefits

of sailing with these men
while avoiding all the risk.

That perhaps,

just perhaps,

you're a goddamn genius.

Mr. Gates.

Mr. Quartermaster.

The crew seem
in good spirit.

All things considered.

What about
our friend the cook?

It appears to be
resolved for now.

Though I must tell you,
he discerned that I knew

about the missing page
beforehand.

He assumed
Billy told me.

I can see how he might
think that.

I did nothing
to dispel that notion,

though it may not take him
a long time to realize

who it was that actually
brought me into this.

Well, we'll have to deal
with our situation

as it develops,

won't we?

Aye.

There's something else.

It's Messrs. Howell
and De Groot.

Give them
a couple of days.

Once we're at sea,
the work will take
their focus off Randall.

Actually, it's not Randall
that's troubling them.

It's you.

Having had some time
to think about it,

they're not certain
that you're up to doing
what's necessary.

The lying
we could forgive.

Singleton we could forgive.

We could forgive
all of it.

But not Billy.

That requires an answer.

When the time comes,
we need to know

that you won't stand
in the way.

I understand
he's your friend.

But once we have
the money,

Flint dies.

No argument.

Not from me.

You could be strong again.

You could resist me.

You could take this whole
fucking island from me

if only you weren't
so goddamned afraid.