01x07 - VII.

Flint: 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.


Rackham: 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?

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

Eleanor: 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.

Gates: The Scarborough!

Flint: Man overboard!

It's Billy! He fell!

We can't turn back.

(theme music playing)

(wind blowing)

(Birds calling)

Lambrick: 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?



Captain Flint's returned.

Eleanor: 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 f*cking chaos.


Eleanor: 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.


All this since yesterday?

I will address the situation with Mrs. Barlow immediately.

You have my word.

(clears throat)

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?

Eleanor: 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 f*ck, Jack?

It's gone limp again.

Really? I hadn't noticed.

Well, do you want something up your ass?


No, thank you.


What the f*ck 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 f*cking idea!

Ain't you always the one telling everyone how f*cking clever you are?

Figure it out.

Don't you dare leave me here.

Don't you...

(Door slams)

(distant donkey braying)

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 f*ckin' 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.

Mapleton: Idelle! Downstairs. Customer.

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

(door closes)


Jesus! The f*ck did they do to you?

Postelection initiation, I'm told.

All done in good fun.

At least... (chuckles)

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.

(both chuckle)

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.

Gates: 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.


De Groot: Mate.

Randall would like a word with you.

Council just voted. He's out.


De Groot: 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.

(Silver sighs)


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.

(snaps fingers) 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.


First item of business... our maiden voyage.

Captain Lawrence, the status of the Black Hind, please.

(clears throat)

We've begun alterations to expand our holds.

But as I predicted...

O'Malley: 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 f*ck out, but he wouldn't go.

He who?

Eleanor: 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.

(bird screeching)

(distant chopping)

He's waiting.


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.

(flies buzzing)

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 f*cking 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 f*ck 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 f*ck'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.


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 f*ck 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.


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.


A fine mess here, Randall.

Randall: You're a thief.

(sighs) 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.

Albinus: 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?




I'm proud of you.


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?


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.


(rooster crows)


Compliments of the new consortium.

A dead cargo is a worthless cargo.

Eme: 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.


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?

(hoofbeats approaching)

(dog barking)

(Horse neighs)

Miranda: 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 f*ck 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?


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 f*cking kidding me?!

(sighs) 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.

Dufresne: Sorry, Mr. Silver.

You're a thief.

Yes, we understand.


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.


(door opens)

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.



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.

(crying continues)

The wrong tree.

Jesus Christ.

Alice: Mr. Rackham.


Five pieces.

(Coins clink)

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 f*ck 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 f*cking house in order.


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?


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.


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.

(men shouting)


(chickens clucking)

Oi, where are you going?

Eyes on Randall at all times... wasn't that the deal?


Randall, you are a f*cking 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.


(men shouting)

(chatter and laughter)

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?


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.


Eleanor's voice: You could be strong again.


You could resist me.

You could take this whole f*cking island from me if only you weren't so goddamned afraid.

(chatter and laughter)



(chatter stops)