03x01 - XIX.

I think you intend to return to that beach, and seize every last ounce of gold off of it, and I think you're going to need my help to do it.

I have committed men and resources to aid you in retrieving the Urca gold, in exchange for which you assured me, expelling Captain Vane from that fort.

We'll procure a ship, we'll recruit men, and we'll create from nothing, a new crew.

You asked for better captains.

I give you Captain Jack Rackham.

Anne: I can't be your wife, Jack.

You and I are gonna be partners till they put us in the ground.

Vane: That is the crown jewel taken from the good fortune prize.

Her father's Lord Peter Ashe, governor of the Carolina Colony.

Her father is a very influential man, he and I were friends.

Miranda: When you return her to her father, you're going to explain what it is you're trying to accomplish here.

A Nassau that can self-govern.

You are no longer a hostage.

I'm gonna get you out of here.

You will turn on absolutely anyone, won't you?

Vane: Listen to me clearly.

You will hear from me again.

You think there's something valuable enough to make the British Navy forget that you and I are pirates?

Not what, who.

Hornigold: This is Eleanor Guthrie, the trade boss in Nassau.

Imagine sir, how London would react to the arrival of the queen of thieves.

I am so very sorry for what...

You destroyed our lives!


I want to see that noose around your neck, and I want to pull the lever with my own two ha...!


Seaman: I have placed Captain Flint under arrest!

His trial will be swift and final!

Flint stole from me, and I'm making it right.

Billy: You hate Flint, I hate Flint.

But right now, he's talking about how we survive, what comes next.

I suggest we get him the hell out of there.

Everyone is a monster to someone.

Since you are so convinced that I am yours,

I will be it.

What are you doing here?

Figured if anyone was going to make a trophy of you, it really ought to be me.


(Man grunting)

Her word will be the last word for this place.

My men will need to lean on something solid.

They look to me for that, but they'll also look to their new quartermaster.

There's something you ought to know, before my misfortune at the hands of Vane's leftenants, our friend, the scout, confessed something to me.

He told me that he could sell the gold's location to another crew in exchange for a larger share of the prize.

(Muffled splashing, rumbling)


(Seagulls screeching)

Man: Mast approaching, starboard side!

(Bell ringing)

(Men shouting indistinctly)

(Wood creaking)

Man: Rig the capstan!

(Yelling continues)

Man: Sir?

There are men here to see...

(Hinges creak)

May I help you?

You're Drummond.

Mary's your wife.

Mary's our sister.

Caleb, Tom, and...


Edgar, that's right.

And you came all the way from Williamsburg just to be upset with me?

We came from Williamsburg to make sure that you honored your vows to her.

End of today, either you're gonna be her current husband or her late one.

I'm sorry, but, um, there's someplace I have to be.

You're coming with us.

I understand your anger, but I've lived long enough to know that any promise made beside the word "forever"

is no more than a lie agreed upon.

There is no forever.

Everything moves towards its end.

And the closer we get to ours, the louder that clock ticks, the less a sane man would let a promise deprive him of happiness.

I explained all this to Mary, who told me she understood and that she would not protest our separation.

Are you calling my sister a liar?

Well... you're here.

I can think of at least three lies she must have told you to bring that about.

First, I imagine she told you I retired from a prosperous trade to settle with her here.

But what she likely did not mention is that that trade was high seas piracy.

Second, she told you my name was Drummond, but when I plied that trade, I was called Teach.

And third, she clearly led you to believe that you could point your sword in my direction and survive the experience.

This, too, was something less than the truth.



(Breathing shakily)




(Groaning, sighs)

Teach: Nassau awaits.

Let us away.

(Crickets chirping)

(Frogs croaking)


(Dog barking)

Man: Who goes there?

I said, "Who goes there?"






(Woman screaming)

(Men shouting, grunting)

(Bell ringing)

(Shouting, screaming continues)


(Screaming, shouting)



(Shouting, screaming continue)

(Gunshots echo)

(Banging on door)


(Woman screaming in distance)

You are the magistrate here.


Bridgetown, St. Kitts, Martinique, Nevis... their magistrates hanged men for piracy.

They all receive visits from me.

The word went forth... any capital sentence served against a pirate would hear my answer.

You must'a known. You must'a heard.

And yet you chose to hang those three men in your square.


If I didn't... if I let my fear of you prevent me from enforcing the law, then civilization in this place is dead.

I also know that most of those other magistrates you visited, they were corrupt men, dishonest men.


I wagered that despite all I'd heard about you, your mercilessness, your cruelty, that you could tell the difference.

That you could see I was an honest man.


(Woman screams) No!

(Sobbing) No, no, no.

(Hammer clicks)



(Dramatic music playing)

Man: Keep 'em coming!

Man #2: Throw down a rope!

We need it to pull up plunder!

Man: Keep movin' up the decks, down below.

Crewman: How many more you got comin' up?

Man: Another three.

Is it done?

It is.

Once the plunder is stowed, get us underway.

Every man to his charge.

Looks like we garnered a good haul out of it.

Man #2: Get everything into the hold.

The men did well under the circumstances.

Not all of them.

Lost his nerve. I want him replaced on the Vanguard before we go over the side again.

He lost his footing.

I don't think it had anything to do with his nerve.

Replace him.

He's getting worse.

He's fine.

Are you sure about that?

We just faced a band of colonial regulars out there.

He's entitled to a mood.

(Men shouting)

Is it her?

It's her. Right where she's supposed to be.

Bring us alongside.

Spread your sheets! Stand ready with grapples!

Man: Spread the sheets!

Ready the grapples!

Featherstone: His men are jumping ship.

They aren't his men.

They're his cargo.

When Jack asked me to hunt her, he said she was hauling timber.

He said the supplies were badly needed for fort repairs.


I don't remember him saying anything about slaves.

(Shouting in native language)


(Gunshots echoing)


(Men shouting in Dutch)


(Blows landing)


(Suspenseful music playing)

You know who I am?

What you cannot know is where I come from, what I once was.

If you knew that, I imagine you would've made different choices today.

(Water splashes)

(Muffled groaning)

(Gavel pounds)

Judge: The evidence has been delivered.

The accused has been measured.

Now let us talk about judgment.

Miss Guthrie, do you have anything to say in your defense before sentence is pronounced?

(High-pitched voice) I have but one regret...


...that though the pirates of Nassau filled my purse with coin,

I never took the opportunity to let them fill me with anything else.

(Laughter, applause)

Max: I apologize.

Judge: Miss Guthrie...

This must seem in such poor taste to you.

I assume this is your production.

Were the world as I wished it, news of Eleanor's trial would be received with the gravity due to someone who did so much for this place.

They are who they are, and someone must provide them with the things they need.

Right now, this is what they need.

...found guilty of these and countless other crimes for which the sentence... is death.


(Men whooping)

Any news from London?

The trial is set to begin sometime next week.

The spectacle around it is said to be so great, the king himself receives daily updates.

Hmm. With that much attention on the politics in play, do you believe there is any way she will be offered some sort of clemency?

I would think there is always a chance for mercy for one willing to beg for it.


(Cheering, whistling)

But I do not imagine you came to see our play.

What is it I can do for you?

When Captains Flint and Rackham made their pact those months ago, settled their differences over the possession of the Urca gold, they asked me to oversee the restoration of the fort.

To ensure Nassau was protected.

But without the men to do the work, there is no progress.

The fort remains compromised and we are all exposed.

And since Captain Vernon's crew walked off the site, there's been little to no labor provided to me at all.

It's only been a few days.

Give him a break.

It's been two weeks.


You wanted to replace Eleanor.

She was the one Nassau relied upon to solve those problems no one else could or would.

I hope for all our sakes you are up to the task.

(Indistinct chatter)

He said he would see this done.

I know.

He assured everyone he would be responsible for restoring the fort.

The street comes to me with the problems it cannot solve for itself, and right now Jack is first among them.

(Whispers) I know.

f*ck's sake. I'll go talk to him.

(Indistinct chatter)

(Dogs barking)

(Singing drunkenly)

(Chatter, laughter)

(Cello playing)


(Knock on door)

(Cello continues)

(Knocking continues)



(Door opens)

(Speaking softly) Thank you, Celeste.

I have no notes.

f*ckin' leeches down there.

You ain't careful, they're gonna bleed you dry.

What man wouldn't, given the opportunity, purchase the adoration of the masses when the cost is so small?

That mess is costing you 100 pound a day.

Well, in about 800 years, you'll be able to say, "I told you so."

In the meantime, perhaps we might at least enjoy ourselves.

Why ain't there anyone up at the fort?

I'd like to thank you for at least allowing me to finish wiping before starting that song.

It's been two weeks. What you waiting for?

I'm working on it.

Are you?

'Cause it sure as sh1t don't look like you're working on anything here.

Well, you should spend more time here.

(Woman moaning)

It's a process.

I'm not f*ckin' around. I need to know.

Do you need to know or does your husband?

You know I hate it when you call her that.

Course I do. That's why I call her that.

She's got a right to be angry.

Her share of the gold is sitting up there, along with mine.

And mine.

Please, relay to whom you must, Jack Rackham is not lazy. Jack Rackham is not stupid.

Jack Rackham is not blind.

And Jack Rackham is not unaware that currently there are no men working on that fort.

That said, on the list of people on this island who are most concerned with seeing that fort restored, there is everyone else, and then there is one name that's... that's way at the top of it.

Both: Jack Rackham.


Jack Rackham, exactly.

Don't treat me like I'm someone else.

I'm on your f*cking side of this, same as I've always been.

I am just asking you to tell me what the plan is.


(Music, chatter stops)

You're about to find out.

(Chatter resumes)

(Wind howling)


(Peg leg thumping softly)

Your days of approaching unannounced are behind you.

I reassigned Mr. Dobbs off the Vanguard, as you asked.

I told him his skill in the rig was too valuable to risk putting him in harm's way.

(Speaking softly) Thank you.

Then now that that's sorted, there is another replacement on the Vanguard that we should discuss.

Who's that?


Is that so?

I understand we faced colonial regulars out there last night.


These raids were difficult enough when the element of surprise was in our favor.

But now? Now it would seem your days of approaching unannounced may also be at an end.

Every time you go ashore, there is a risk you don't return... a risk Nassau loses its most recognizable figure and a risk that would seem to be escalating.

I am suggesting it's time we take you out of harm's way as well.

We're fighting a war to protect Nassau.

A war in which our most effective weapon is the fear that we can instill in our enemies.

We've succeeded in making Captain Flint the name of grim death to all of them.

The only way that we can ensure that that story continues is if he is the one telling it.

That story is telling itself, and you know it.

We've been assigned responsibility for raids we were nowhere near.

Jesus, I've been given credit for having been a part of some of them.

They are so terrified of you, they're terrified of me.

You think that's a reason we should relent?

Who the f*ck said anything about relenting?

Look, I am talking about letting someone else stand in and play your role now and again.

Thank you for your concern, but I'll decide when it's time to start altering our tactics.

No, I'll decide.

This crew has spilled a great deal of blood to make your name what it is.

It doesn't belong to you.

It's a jointly held asset belonging to every man on this crew who sacrificed some part of himself to build it.

They have a say about how it is managed, and I am the voice of it.

It is clear to me that this raid was more dangerous than the last.

They are adapting, and it is of some concern to me that you either cannot or will not acknowledge it.

I understand this is all incredibly personal to you after the loss of Mrs. Barlow.

Now, wait a minute...

And I understand the burden of playing the role you currently play must be taking a toll even you cannot fully comprehend.


Now you have wormed your way into the heads of the men out there.

And they've granted you authority over them because of it.

But in my head, you are not welcome.

(Suspenseful music playing)

Howell: It's worse than I feared.

The wound should've been far further along towards quieting itself.

It's less than ideal.

Have you been cleaning it as we discussed?

(Heavy breathing) When I can.

It's harder when we're at sea.

I understand your aversion to being seen using the crutches.

Well, if you understand it, I wish you'd stop hectoring me about it.

But the boot was never intended for a wound this new.

Unless you remove some of the pressure, the wound will only continue to get more irritated.

I'll lean more on the ropes.

With all your weight? On a moving deck?

I'll manage.

If the decay progresses, I'll have to remove more of your leg.




Rackham: Please let me explain.

Vane: What is there to explain?

You couldn't figure out how to repair the fort, so you lured me into capturing a ship full of slaves to do the job.

It was the first solid lead on a slaver we'd had in weeks.

I needed someone who I could be certain would win her.

So you lied to me about it.

What the f*ck made you think I would just hand them over to you, knowing what you know of me?

The three of us stood in this room... you, Flint, and I... and we agreed that the fort's restoration was critical to Nassau's security.

We agreed you would hire men to restore it.

I tried that!

You're going to need to try harder!


I offer the men exorbitant wages to do the work.

Do you know what they say? "You can afford more. We want double that."

All right, double it, it's a deal. f*ck it.

You know what they say then? "You can't tell us what to do. We're free men."

"We'll work when we please." Would you like to take a guess how that is going?

It's five different crews, it's hundreds of men, untold thousands in wages, and I swear to God, I think that hole in the wall is bigger now than when we started.

I stood between you and him, Jack.

When Flint was ready to wage war against you over the gold, I was the one who said you would manage it as well as anyone could.

For the good of this place, I was the one who said you could be trusted.


Why did you stand behind me in that moment?

I'll tell you why. Because you and I had been through enough sh1t for you to know that I would do the same for you, that I have done the same for you, and would again without hesitation.

I made a commitment to you, with you, to restore this place, to make it strong again.

I see no other way to have it done.

And I will have it done.

I will move heaven and earth to have it done because I refuse to let you down.

I knew this would be difficult for you, so I kept it from you.

Please know that I meant no slight by it.

No lack of respect or friendship.

It's quite the opposite.


(Man shouting indistinctly)

Man: Ship on the horizon!

De Groot: Ship on the horizon!

Under bare poles!

(Yelling continues)


Whose banner is that?



Silver: What the f*ck's he doing out there?

Lying in wait?

With his banner raised?

Sails furled.

Not a soul on the deck or in the rig.

Possible they abandoned her?

Took a prize and decided to sail away on it?

Had to have been a hell of a prize.

Even Hallendale isn't stupid enough to leave a ship like that behind.

He could've sailed it back to Nassau with a few dozen men.

Flint: Less.

Why don't we go in closer, see what's what?

What if they're in distress?

Alter our course to close with her.

Bear away to port.

Man: Bear away to port!

(Men shouting)

(Whispers) What?

You'll lose our advantage in this wind.

Delay our return to Nassau by a day, maybe two.

And we're in dire need of resupply.

Short on foodstuffs, very short on shot.

That storm in the southwest isn't dying away.

And we dawdle, we'll find ourselves right in the middle of it.

And there's a good chance that that ship we're about to approach is quiet because all its men are below deck with a plague.

You think I should've tried to talk them out of this.


You rally the men to fight behind the idea that these are days in which all of Nassau must stand together.

Either that means something or it doesn't.

And how the hell would I argue the latter, just so we could avoid a delay?

These days any man who can sew a black flag and get 10 fools to follow him can take a prize.

They can take it because of the fear that I and men like me have instilled in their prey.

But they can't do what I can do.

They're not built for it.

And sooner or later, they'll be exposed.

Any fool who followed Hallendale deserves whatever end they got in his company.

You were right. This war is getting more dangerous.

The strong among us must stand together and face it.

But the fools and the pretenders... they were never truly among us to begin with.

As their quartermaster, it's your decision.

But that's how I might've argued it to my men... to avoid unnecessary delay.

(Dramatic music playing)

Man: Bring your captain on!

There's no damage.

Longboats are gone.

Looks like they just up and left her here.

(Man shouting)


Sweep the hold before the captain goes across just in case there's...


(Hammer clicks)

(Hinges creak)

(Mice squeaking)


(Whispering) "We die alone."

Someone get me a glass.

(Silver panting)

Fresh water's been pumped out.

Food stores as well.

They've scavenged half the rig to anchor this far from shore.

They marooned him, left him for dead.



b*st*rd went mad.

(Silver panting)

Billy: The whole crew, every man, all decide to maroon him and they go to this much effort to do it in deep water rather than keeping the ship and leaving him ashore?

Why the f*ck would they do that?

(Speaking softly) We need to get out of here.

What is it?

(Suspenseful music playing)

Get out of here now.


Man: Sail!

De Groot: Heading?

Headed this way!


Get us underway!

(Overlapping shouting)

De Groot: Do it now!


(Men shouting indistinctly)

Flint: British colors.

Not Navy.

She's a hunter.

Carrying 50 guns, maybe more.

It's already a mile inside the horizon.

Must've been trailing us with her sail reduced until we took the bait.

Drew us into a position where he's got the weather gauge.

Landmass to the west, storm to the south, and no point of sail on which we can outrun her.

Someone get me a chart!

De Groot: Chart for the captain!

Full and by on the starboard tack as close as you can.

Can we fight her?

Behind the wind?

With barely a broadside worth of shot on hand?

We won't stand a chance.

We may not have a choice.

(Men continue yelling)

(Dramatic music playing)

(Woman moaning)

(Moaning continues, man grunting)

We got all the money in the world.

Maybe we could find a room that ain't in the middle of a whorehouse.

I own a tavern, a brothel, a tanner, a butcher... interests in a dozen other concerns on the street.

I am the one they come to here when they need things, want things, fear things.

In another time and another place, they would call me a queen.

I built this from nothing.

And none of it is real.

What ain't real about it?

Because it is built upon things I cannot control, cannot predict.

It is built on sand.

And when the day comes when that foundation shifts, when civilization returns, do you know what they will call me then?

The whore that lost everything.

I like it in this room.

Reminds me that nothing has changed yet.

You saying this ain't real?

Of course it is.

The fort will be repaired.

If he says it, he'll do it.

When you first opened that door and showed me the Urca gold, do you know what I saw?

A solution.

The mortar that would secure the sand beneath our feet.

The thing I could offer to England or Spain or whomever arrived here and threatened to reorder things, and say, "Take this and leave me be."

Everything is dependent upon that gold, and right now it is sitting in a fort with no guns and full of holes.

Charles is gonna agree to Jack's plan.

In a month, the fort will be whole.

Made so by slave labor?

Has it not occurred to anyone that if Jack has not been able to persuade men to repair the fort, it is even less likely he will be able to persuade them to defend it?

The f*ck are you saying?

I am saying that if England were to return right now, there is nothing to stop them from capturing that fort.

And so long as that gold is inside it, they will be capturing our futures along with it.

The gold must be removed from the fort whether Jack wants it or not.

You're getting awful close to doing the one thing you said you'd never do.

Don't ask me to take sides between you and him.

It doesn't matter. Can't be done.

There's a reason it's up there in the first place.

There's no other place to put it and secure it.

Not in its current form, no.

(Dramatic music playing)

Men: Heave! Heave!

(Indistinct shouting)

He's well within range.

Then why isn't he firing?

Closing in, making sure he doesn't miss.

And he doesn't need to rush.

There's nothing we can do to stop it.

On this side of that coast, he'll always be faster, more maneuverable.

Whoever that is out there, he has us.


That man has a goddamned answer for everything.

He's working on an answer for this.

Man: She's opening her gun ports!

Gun crews, prepare to return fire!

De Groot: Gun crews at the ready!

(Indistinct shouting)


(Shouting continues)

Man: Gun crews ready!

(Voice echoing) Crew of the Walrus!

In my capacity as duly appointed servant of His Majesty King George the First, I address you directly.


Hornigold: Time is short, so I will be plain and offer you the same terms as accepted by the late Captain Hallendale's men.

Surrender, and I am authorized to offer you full, unqualified pardons.

Your ship will be commandeered and you will be given a choice of either entering into my service or being set free at the nearest convenient port, your names cleared and your accounts squared.

Refuse and I shall grant no quarter.

Do you think they'll take it?

I don't care.

Make the guns ready.

There'll be no battle today.

Our disadvantage is too great.

But what price surrender?

To beg forgiveness from a thing that took my woman from me?

(Speaking softly) My friend?

Murdered her, displayed her body for their amusement.

I can walk away from this fight if I just sign my name beneath a solemn oath never again to do violence against it.


Not after all it has taken from me.

Not after all it has taken from you.

I will do great violence against that thing.

They say they will pardon us all, but I say to offer to pardon something one fears is the act of a coward.

To offer them in volume suggests that their fear of us is becoming unmanageable, that we have shown them what we are capable of and it terrifies them.

Do any of you want to surrender to men who fear you?

Lay down arms in a battle that we are winning?

Neither do I.

f*ck Benjamin Hornigold, his king, and their pardons.

This war isn't nearly over.

We're not fighting, and we're not surrendering.

So what are we doing?

We're going that way.

(Quietly) That's a ship killer.

Then he'd be mad to follow us into it, then, wouldn't he?

Billy, soon as he makes his break to fire, we run.

Port side batteries are readied.

Let's encourage them to see reason.

Prepare to head up and bring us into position to fire.

(Men shouting indistinctly)



(Dramatic music playing)

There she goes! She's winding up!

Hard to port.

What the hell is he doing?

He'll end up in the middle of that storm.

Hold on!


(Shouts indistinctly)

There. Hold her there.


Man: Fire!


(Men yelling)


(Yelling continues)

Bring us hard to port. Make a course to pursue her.

De Groot: Make sure the hatches are fully battened.

Secure the lashings.

Muldoon: Mr. Silver, we got hits all along the starboard side.

When we reach that weather, we're gonna be taking on water down here.

Well, seal it up as best you can.

I'll be down to lend a hand soon.

Billy: It isn't just him.


Captain Hume said it took him every ounce of leverage he could muster to secure just 10 pardons.

And now Hornigold holds 80 of them.

Maybe Flint's right. Maybe they are getting nervous.

Or maybe someone else secured them for him.

Someone larger than Hume or Hornigold.

Someone to whom the rules as we understand them don't apply.

Flint was right about one thing.

This is only the beginning.

Something else is coming.

(Keys jingle)

(Lock turns)

(Door creaks)

(Door creaks)

(Paper rustles)

Man: Judge: "For years you lorded over the operations of hundreds, if not thousands, of hardened pirates. How exactly were you able to manage this?"

Accused: "One day at a time, I suppose."

I enjoyed that.

There is a funny thing about notoriety, and I have a little experience with this.

The more people know of you, the more of you those people feel belongs to them.

Now, right now, there is a barrister who feels entitled to say, "I am the one who convicted Eleanor Guthrie."

A judge who wants to say, "I was the one who hanged her."

A throng of people outside...

"I was the one who cheered as she swung."

They all feel entitled to a part of your story.

And it's a hell of a story.

So you can imagine how difficult it was for me to arrange it so that I could say, "I am the one who set her free."

Who the f*ck are you?

My name is Woodes Rogers, and I am the next governor of New Providence Island.

Well, assuming I can subdue her.

That is where you come in.

I am to set sail for the West Indies in two days' time.

I am prepared.

But the one element I lack is knowledge, someone who understands Nassau and can help me know what I'm going to find there.

If you agree to be that person for me, your sentence will be commuted and the charges against you released.

And what would you ask of me?

I understand it is an uncomfortable position for you, feeling like you're betraying people you've known so closely...

Specifically, what would I have to do?

To begin with?

A list.

The names of those on the island who could be made allies, those who would be harder to sway.

(Paper rustles)

(Pen scratching)

(Dramatic music playing)

You want to civilize Nassau?

That is the only name you need concern yourself with.

As long as he is alive, you cannot succeed.

(Men chattering)

(Tools banging)

Vane: Your slaves are making progress.

You know I take no pleasure in it.

If there were any other way...

Jack, if I thought it gave you any pleasure, I'd have killed you the moment you suggested it.



The first moment I saw it on the beach,

I thought, "My God, the things I'm going to build with this."

A city... alive in a place it has no right to be, in defiance of all reason and refusing to be dislodged, but growing and... a place that, 50 years hence and when I'm long gone would force the world to acknowledge

Jack Rackham was here.

I swear to God, when I sit here long enough, I can hear it laughing at me.

You don't have to be here, you know.

I have made it clear to all involved they are to be treated fairly.

You think if you refrain from beating them, it's any better?

It isn't the violence.

It isn't the labor or the hunger or the heat or the chains.

You know what those men fear right now?

It's the unknown.

Lash that comes from nowhere for reasons never explained.

A visit from the taskmaster in the dead of night.

But I remember that fear.

Right now, I feel it returning.

What we're doing here, sitting on Spain's gold on England's island, demands a response.

What that response will be, what form it will take, what face it will wear... by the time we do know it, there will be no time to prepare for the blow that follows.

(Indistinct shouting, chatter)

(Bosun's whistle blowing)

(Bell tolling)

(Seagulls calling)

(Whistle blows)

(Water splashing)

(Inhales, exhales)


Excuse me, sir.

I wonder if you could help me locate an old friend of mine.

His name is Charles Vane.