01x06 - Mr. Culpeper

[bunniefuu]

Previously on "Turn"...

I've never k*lled anyone.

I have. Plenty just like you.

You are being sent to New York to join the w*r effort.

If you have served diligently, you will receive your freedom.

If you try to desert your ranks, your freedom will be rescinded permanently.

I have no idea if my letter got to Ben or if he got it to Washington or if any of it meant a damn thing.

All they told me is we're crossing the Delaware.

Now, just who is Abraham Woodhull?

You going somewhere?

York City.

What I need from you is a letter from Colonel Cook to get me past the checkpoints.

Why are you so anxious to go to New York?

(Clock ticking)

Man's voice: Scenario 37...

agent-to-agent transfer.

(Chatter)

Pharaoh, please.

I don't know which is colder, the wind or the winter.

And weary winter comin' fast and cozy here beneath the blast.

(Laughing)

You there.

What's the price for one of those?

I'm afraid these are not for sale.

Agreement with the commissary.

Oi, you turn your back on me?

It's one measly egg.

And I've the balsam to pay.

So how's about you quit acting a lout 'fore I shove one of these bumnuts down your throat?

(Grunts)

(Eggs cr*ck)

Oh, look at what you've done now.

Hey, what's this?

(Grunting)

(g*nsh*t)

Mm.

Traitor. Traitor. I k*lled the traitor.

(Coughing)

Try, try again.

♪ Hush, hush ♪
♪ There's snakes in the garden ♪
♪ Soul for sale ♪
♪ Blood on the rise ♪
♪ Hush, hush ♪
♪ I can't wait anymore ♪
♪ Soul for sale ♪
♪ I can't wait anymore ♪

Soldier: Shoulder firelocks!

Soldier 2: The prisoner exchange was carried through this morning, Excellency.

Washington: And what is the condition of our returned?

Very poor, sir.

Some are unable to walk owing to starvation.

It confirms Captain Gamble's account... the enemy treat our captured with brutality while we protect theirs according to protocol.

"To Lord Howe.

I am sorry to trouble Your Lordship with a letter almost wholly on the subject of the barbaric treatment our officers received on board your prison ship in New York Harbor."

Prepare a copy of Captain Gamble's account.

I want it enclosed.

Yes, sir.

"I call upon Your Lordship to say if our treatment of your men had merited so severe a retaliation..."

Absent without leave, falsifying intelligence, insubordination...

I want you to know, Captain, I plan to leave nothing out of my report.

I wouldn't expect you to, sir.

Though you should know, I already told the commander everything I did.

Well, then likely your punishment's been decided and we've merely been called here to see it carried out.

(Bell tolling)

The accused, John Herring, having been convicted of breaking into the house of Mr. Prince Howland and robbing him of several spoons, silver dollars, and wearing apparel, has been sentenced to suffer death.

His Excellency, the commander in chief, approves this sentence as an example made to deter the boldest and most hardened offenders.

(Choking)

(Rope creaking)

(Choking continues)

Shall we?

(Rope creaking)

This is Mr. Nathaniel Sackett of the Committee to Detect and Defeat Conspiracies against America.

Sir, the presence of a civilian at court-martial is highly irregular.

Yes, I agree, Charles.

Now, would you be so kind as to brief the room on the intelligence uncovered at Trenton?

Brief the room?

Myself included.

Ahem.

An examination of orders discovered in the desk of Colonel Rall suggests that the garrison we took from the Hessians was much more than a winter camp.

Trenton was being prepared as a launch point for an att*ck on Philadelphia.

I know what Howe wants.

But how will Howe take it?

By land... by sea... or will he lunge north to join forces with Burgoyne so as to decapitate New England from the rest of our colonies?

We have until the snow melts before their forces in New York begin to move.

New York.

Which remains dark to us.

Sir, I have just dispatched new scouts to observe the enemy.

I grow weary of contradictory accounts that merely guess at the intent of the enemy.

This letter written by your man on Long Island...

That letter was not received through the proper channels.

Which is why I paid it no mind.

It was a lone report and unconfirmed until our victories at Trenton and Princeton proved it accurate.

More accurate than any piece of intelligence we received thus far, at least.

Gentlemen, I've asked you here today to determine if this was a fluke and, perhaps more importantly, if this fluke can be repeated.

(Grunting)

Mornin'.

What's your business in New York?

Feeding your officers.

These hogs I have here are bound for Colonel Cook of the commissary.

Papers?

Yes, sir.

Thank you.

You often travel alone?

Uh, usually I do, yeah.

Is that... is that a problem?

Not for me.

Great.

Thought you might have trouble closer to the city.

They're still jumpy from the fire.

And after the rebels' victories, they see lone arsonists everywhere.

Mm.

You look like you might give them real trouble.

(Both chuckle)

Safe travels, Mr. Woodhull.

Thanks.

(Clicks tongue) Go.

Ben: I can assure you, sir, you will be perfectly convinced of my friend's integrity and loyalty.

Well, according to you, he took an oath of loyalty to King George.

Only to get closer to the enemy, to learn their secrets.

Traditional m*llitary reconnaissance is a proven discipline.

Multiple scouts produce multiple reports which may be cross-referenced to ensure verification.

In addition, soldiers are trained to recognize...

Actually, soldiers make terrible spies.

All that discipline drilled into their movements makes them easy to spot, unlike us civilians.

Excuse me, sir, but why exactly are you in this room?

I've been invited here by your commander in chief to opine on the business at hand.

Mr. Sackett came to us by way of William Duer, who recommended him as a person of intrigue and secrecy.

And I must say, I find this young man's chain of agents very intriguing.

I want this chain notion explored and a unified recommendation presented upon my return.

Any questions?

I...

Well, yes, Your Excellency.

The letter that I transcribed regarding the Hessians and Trenton.

It was unsigned.

I mean to ask, how did you come by the name Abraham Woodhull?

Excellent question.

Any for you, Mr. Sackett?

Plenty, but not for you, sir.

Very well.

(Footsteps receding)

(Door closes)

Singing "Johnny's Gone For A Soldier"

♪ He'll not come back for many a day ♪
♪ Johnny's gone for a soldier... ♪

Hey.

Hey.

(Explosions)

Can you hit 'em with your r*fle?

I think it came from over here somewhere.

(g*n cocks)

Soldier: Don't worry...

I got ya.

♪ He'll not come back for many a day ♪
♪ Johnny's gone for a soldier... ♪

(Snorting)

♪ With pipe and drum he marched away... ♪

(Crackling)

♪ He would not hid... ♪

(expl*si*n)

Andre: Are you nearly finished?

We have important company arriving, Abigail.

We must show them a respectable welcome.

Now, let's have a look.

(Laughs) Oh, dear.

I'm afraid this is all wrong.

I'm sorry, sir.

I just arranged it how my mistress had taught me.

I don't expect you to anticipate my preferences.

Then again... it is never too late to learn.

Have a seat.

Please have a seat.

Show me how your former mistress would cut up and eat her meat.

Ah, ah.

It is the European custom, and most appropriate, to switch and feed oneself with the dominant hand.

The time it takes to transfer prevents us from descending into gluttony.

(Chuckles) You must think us mad to devote such attention to trivialities, don't you?

I know I certainly did when I was first made to learn it all.

If I ask you your opinion, you need not be afraid to give it.

I want you to feel safe here and perhaps find reason to smile.

(Bell rings)

Ah!

And here they are.

(Clapping)

Happy return, gentlemen.

You should all feel free to relax and get some rest tonight.

Tomorrow, I shall interview each of you regarding your time in captivity.

Abigail will show you to your rooms.

(Laughter, chatter)

Look at this.

Liberty never smelled so sweet, hey, snowball?

(Laughs)

I smell his tackle on your breath.

You gonna pick it up?

Listen to the pickaninny.

We be Queen's Rangers, son. Back to your digging.

Did you say the Queen's Monkeys?

There's your monkey.

You wanna play?

Come on. Huh?

(Grunting)

(Clatters)

(Grunting)

(Stick clatters)

(Whistles)

No eyes on him.

I am sorry to keep you waiting, but, you see, I've been looking for someone.

I've been tracking a man who k*lled one of my boys.

And it's been four months... just one of them, four months... so, you see, if you hurt a Ranger, you pay a price.

Now, it's nothing personal. That's just the rules.

Do what you will.

Oh, yeah, I will.

But before all that, I just wanna ask ya, where the hell did you learn how to use staves like this?

I have seen all manner of lethality, but you showed me something new today.

I'm Maasai.

We train with fimbos for initiation.

Fimbos? (Laughs)

Go on, then. Show me.

Only warriors are initiated.

I have been a warrior for 30 years, boy.

(Chuckles)

Let me put him down, Major.

Drop your iron. I'll make you my meat.

While you dream, snowball.

We'll have a fair fight, then.

The lads'll make a little coin, and you and he will get the answer you're looking for, eh?

So she then hangs a black petticoat on a drying line to signal to my courier when the intelligence is ready.

Not bad.

And she hangs napkins to signify which cove is safe for the rendezvous.

Wait, wait. Rendezvous?

Don't tell me your agent meets your courier in person?

Oh, well, of course.

Failure. Death.

No, no, no. Courier and agent are never in the same place at the same time.

Well, then how do you expect for them to make the transfer?

(Sighs) You predetermine the location to drop, id est, hide the lettre confidentielle in question and then arrange a later time for retrieval.

A dead drop... to ensure your agents don't drop dead from being caught in flagrante delicto.

Which demonstrates the folly of this scheme.

If a single link is broken, the entire chain is rendered useless.

Which is why we use encryption, sir.

To shield the men, not the message.

(Chuckles)

Captain, which enciphering method have you been using thus far?

Rossignol? Trithemius?

Personally, I prefer Dumas.

Please tell me you're using encryption.

My God.

I was told you were a graduate of Yale.

Yes, sir. Class of '73.

Mm.

One supposes you've studied Greek, Latin, Hebrew?

Nai. Certe. Chen-adon.

And I am a quick study, Mr. Sackett.

Then at least we have somewhere to start.

Commit this to memory.

Scott: We don't have time for this.

The commander expects results, not wordplay.

But we're ahead of the game, thanks to Captain Tallmadge here.

Typically, I have to concoct a legend for the agents I wish to embed into enemy territory.

A poultry trader, fishmonger, schoolteacher.

Requires wardrobe, documentation, training.

The brilliance of Mr. Woodhull is his life is his legend.

There's no reason to invent a false one.

He's already living it.

Who pays for it?

Hmm?

Well, if the farmer's not farming, who provides for his expenses?

His food, his lodging? His money to bribe sources?

(Cracks nut)

We do, of course.

The Congress will never approve intelligencer salaries while we cobble together bounties for our regulars.

Congress needn't know about it.

We'll draw from a secret fund authorized by Washington to be used at our discretion.

General, please.

We've been asked to explore how a chain of agents might work.

Some debate is to be expected.

Explore whatever you want, Tallmadge.

As the head of intelligence, I will never approve this.

It's time that you learned how the chain of command works.

(Door slams shut)

Hmm.

That was predictable.

Ah.

(Gasps)

Man singing: ♪ I sold my flax, I sold my wheel ♪

♪ To buy my love a sword of steel ♪
♪ So it in battle he might wield ♪
♪ Johnny's gone for a soldier... ♪

You, listen to me. You've made a mistake.

You're shivering, Mr. Woodhull.

Here.

This'll warm you up.

No, no, no.

I am the son of a Tory magistrate.

I'm a loyal subject of the Crown.

Yes.

You've gotta listen to me. You've gotta listen to me.

(Grunts)

Little Tory boy.

(Coughing)

I'm with the 19th Continentals under Sullivan.

I've been out here five months... the last man of my unit... ambushing their dispatch riders, hitting supply lines, all while looking for a way to get back to the regiment proper.

Only reason you're still breathing is I got more questions need answering about who you sell to and where, at what price, anything they'll ask at the checkpoints.

(Shivering) You plan to pass yourself off as me?

But that coat and that pin is as much a disguise for me as it is for you.

I'm under direct orders to infiltrate the city and gather intelligence for the Continental Army.

I swear.

Oh, I see.

So... you're a spy.

Benjamin Tallmadge, Second Continental Light Dragoons.

He will confirm my loyalty and he will verify my mission.

Your mission?

(Sighs)

You're gonna tell me what I need to know or they'll find your body liberated of its skin.

What, you know them all, trust them all?

We all grew up together.

Childhood friends. Fascinating.

Wouldn't have thought to try that.

Well, it wasn't exactly planned.

(Quietly) Don't tell anyone that.

Don't tell anyone else Mr. Woodhull's name.

Time to gift Mr. Woodhull an alias.

One by which the other agents will know him.

I'm sorry, the other agents?

Hmm, I've plans for your farmer.

Need him to nurture the seeds I've planted over the last year and a half.

One of them is sprouting right now, right under the enemy's nose.

I... no, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's not how this is going to work.

You see, Abe, he's a very cautious man.

He won't meet with anybody he doesn't already know.

He'll have to.

No, he'll quit is what he'll do.

I thought he was your friend.

Yes, which is exactly why he trusts me to protect him.

Only that which is concealed is protected.

You can't even conceal his name.

Luckily for you, I am a master at the art of concealment.

Thank you, Lieutenant Terrence.

I have an uncle in the Coldstream Guard, so he'll be glad we've reclaimed one of his own.

I remember the motto... "Nulli Secundam."

Second to none.

Good evening, sir. Have a seat.

Name and rank.

Captain John Graves Simcoe.

And where was your post?

A town called Setauket.

Setauket, Long Island?

Ambush, was it not?

Where are my manners. Drink?

(Rings)

And how did you find it there in Setauket?

May I have some more ink, please, Abigail?

This is for m*llitary record?

Oh, my own personal curiosity.

It's a pit run by a man who I'd say... well, best not to talk out of turn.

Hewlett?

"The Oyster Major," as he's referred to in these parts.

(Chuckles)

If you'd like, I could see to arranging a transfer.

Please, Major, not on my account.

There's someone whom I left far too abruptly.

A local woman, perhaps?

In any case, I should very much like to return to her.

By all means.

Tell me about her.

Well, I'm all packed up.

Tell me what I need to know or I k*ll that fire 'fore I go.

No? Have it your way, then.

(Mumbling) My... my father's Richard Woodhull.

His deal is with Colonel Cook for seven pounds per pound.

Now, was that so hard?

Tell me true... if you're such a Patriot, why didn't you enlist with the militia and fight for your country like a man?

Because you can't win.

Look at you.

Look at your... your fort here.

You're one man.

You're alone in the woods... surrounded by an army on an island surrounded by a navy.

That... that is the Continental Army.

That is what you're running back to.

So I should be like you, then?

Swear allegiance to the king with my fingers crossed behind me?

What's your family think of you?

(Scoffs)

What I do, I do for my son.

He know you're a liar?

He's a year old.

I want to be there for him when he grows up.

Man: If I had a son, I'd have him know I fought and d*ed for my beliefs so he could rise to avenge me.

I'd want my son to choose for himself... rather than have his father choose for him.

But then our... views on liberty... true liberty... may differ.

You say you need this suit, this pin, and this paper.

I'll do you a deal.

Fight me for them.

Come on!

I don't want to fight you.

Oh, don't worry. I'll let you warm up first.

You think you deserve this more?

Prove it.

We're on the same side.

Prove you're worth more.

, I won't.

You fight me.

I'm not worth more.

You fight me.

(Grunting)

(Yells)

Wanna k*ll me? Wanna k*ll me?

That's what a man does.

(Horse whinnying)

(Gasps)

Soldier: Mr. Woodhull's cart.

(Grunts)

(Grunts)

Soldier: Come around to the left, men!

No, he's the c*ptive!

There he is!

Surrender! You are alone and outnumbered.

Man: You were right, Mr. Woodhull.

You Tory bastard!

(Yells)

It's over now. You're safe.

Tough nut, that one.

(Laughing)

Oh, it's a long story. Too long.

Do tell, tell.

Soldier: Tell, tell.

(Soldiers tapping)

Very well, very well.

You see, Itoo, was once taken prisoner.

Not long after I arrived in America during the defense of Fort Saint-Jean.

I took it upon myself to write down everything that I saw... troop movements, g*n placements.

I even drew a detailed map of the territory.

You must be quite the artist.

I dabble.

My reports were sent to General Howe and, impressed with my initiative, he assigned me to a new post.

So you see, I understand the value of men in chains.

Thus it falls to me to interrogate our returned.

Though I do prefer to compare multiple accounts.

That way, if something is suspect... it's easier to spot.

As an artist, I've learned that it's not always the big picture, but the little details that effectively sell the tale.

Another line of the old author, Lieutenant Terrence?

Lieutenant Terrence here is a Coldstream man.

I propose a toast for one of Colonel Mathew's finest.

Nulli Secundam.

Secundus.

What the hell have you done?

This man's a liar.

Coldstream lieutenant not knowing his regiment's motto.

He was likely sent back to us as a spy.

I know that!

You pale fool.

I had planned on turning him double, the opportunity of which I have now been robbed.

I apologize, Major. I just thought...

You didn't think.

You acted upon the assumption that you were the only one who could spot a mouse in the cupboard.

Has it really been that long since your last k*ll or was v*olence your natural inclination?

Go back to Setauket, Captain.

I pray that woman can settle your savage side.

General, have we come to a consensus?

Your Excellency, we believe traditional reconnaissance is the way forward as it depends on as little variable as possible and would be carried out by men who could be trusted to follow orders.

Captain, what say you?

I...

I concur with the general, sir.

(Scoffs)

The chain of agents approach would require trust and in that resource, I'm afraid we find ourselves lacking.

You're speaking now of your men on Long Island.

No, sir, I'm speaking of the men in this room.

Sir, for a conspiracy like this one to function, we would need to be keeping secrets from the enemy, from Congress, even from our own army.

This would require absolute trust amongst the secret-keepers, and yet General Scott here does not trust me or my judgment.

Mr. Sackett here mistrusts my experience, much as I mistrust his attitude toward the lives of the agents in the field.

And you, sir...

you know the name Abraham Woodhull and yet you will not disclose to me the source of your knowing.

Apparently, you do not trust me either.

Therefore, I cannot trust the success of any chain that we might build here today.

I would like to speak with Captain Tallmadge alone.

(Cheering)

(Crowd stomping)

(Cheering continues)

(Grunting)

(Cheering)

Get up, boy.

Crowd: Come on, come on!

Come on, fight!

(Grunts)

(Cheering continues)

(Yells)

Hold!

Shut your gobs!

(Crowd quiets)

You still gonna k*ll me?

Well, Rangers don't k*ll their own initiates.

(Chuckles)

(Exhales)

Samuel Tallmadge.

Samuel.

Mr. Sackett tells me that you prefer an alias for Woodhull.

I must say, I concur.

Forgive me, sir, but I thought that we had agreed that the best way forward...

You were right in your prescription.

We require an amendment in the name of trust.

Following our retreat from Brooklyn Heights, I tasked a native to reconnoiter enemy encampments around Long Island and seek out contacts friendly to our side.

His name was Nathan Hale, and he was captured while he was on a mission for me.

He was hanged as a spy.

Fortunately, his best friend at Yale, a certain Benjamin Tallmadge, spoke often of his hometown friends... a whaler named Brewster and a farmer named Woodhull.

I wrote those three names down on a report, a report I looked back on when an unsigned letter sent by an anonymous farmer proved correct.

Captain Hale d*ed without friends to support him.

We cannot let that happen to Mr. Culpepper.

Mr. Culpepper?

We'll never use the name Woodhull again.

Why was he wearing your clothes?

His aim was to pose as me, escape into the city, I suppose.

Right, and that proves the general's anxieties.

Can't take any more lone men into New York.

What do you... you mean I can't continue on?

Not alone.

(Sighs)

He tell you his name?

No.

Please don't think that I condone such barbarism.

Just... miss my boy, is all.

You have a son?

His birthday's comin' round.

Well, then, we must send him something.

If you think of a gift, I'll make arrangements to have it sent by special courier.

Well, there's that smile.

That's good. Good, good.

Washington: You are an invaluable asset to me, and so, General Scott, I feel it better to apply your acumen where it is most needed... on the front.

But, sir, a captain can't run the intelligence branch.

That's why I have promoted him to major.

I wish you the best of luck, Your Excellency.

He is a fine general.

Thank you for this promotion, sir.

I pray I do you proud.

As do I.

Your first duty is to come up with a given name for our Mr. Culpepper.

Samuel.

In honor of your brother, I presume?

Yes, sir.

And might I ask, what is the meaning of "Culpepper"?

Excellent question.