01x05 - The Return

[bunniefuu]

Your assignment is to eliminate the pirate, Blackbeard.

There are so many places to hide, so many islands, so many coves and inlets.

The English, they've got Kate.

She'll send him here directly, and with his men and his g*ns.

If you wish to live, you must prepare to evacuate.

It's remarked upon that you never go outside.

I find it vexing.

A Hellburner is a w*apon of indiscriminate destruction.

What does the Commodore want with such a thing?

Slaughter for the sheer exhilaration.

One word in the right ear, you would hang.

What do you want?

I want your money.

[People cheering]

I know you think highly of her.

She thinks highly of you too.

I want you to help me rob someone, and I don't want him to know he's been robbed until it's too late.

He's alive.

I saw him.

Will you help me, Antoinette?

Will you speak to me now, Antoinette?

Where's Edward?

Speak to me now, Antoinette.

Will you speak to me now?

Tell me where he is.

And now?

Will you speak to me now?

[g*nshots]

[Groaning]

[g*nsh*t]

[g*nf*re]

I'm not going in there.

It's dark.

Well, then make yourself scarce.

Find a place to...

Hide.

[Whistles]

Ugh.

What are you doing?

I didn't like it out there.

Is this what you know, it seems to be?

If it seems like gunpowder, then yes.

Shouldn't you douse the lamp?

Well, I should certainly be mindful not to drop it.

I never saw so much.

What could the Commodore want with it?

He intends to desolate and lay waste the English.

And using the submersible.

We can't allow that to happen.

Then what do we do?

I don't know.

Surely, one long fuse and a match, and you could blow the entire stockpile sky high.

Not so, unfortunately.

I took my bearings as I advanced through the tunnels.

This facility lies directly under Santa Campaña.

If we destroy the gunpowder, we destroy the town and everyone in it.

This is beyond my control.

I have to warn them.

I have to return to Jamaica.

Commodore, I've been pondering your condition.

As have I, you can be most assured.

What did you conclude?

Some years ago I had business in Constantinople, during which time I witnessed several cases of demonic possession.

I'm not possessed by demons, Mr. Lowe.

There are those who beg to differ.

[Snorts]

I believe that what the credulous mind sees as satanic possession is more often than not a malady similar to your own.

[Muffled conversation]

And?

And several times I saw such maladies treated.

Successfully?

Yes.

How?

With an instrument called a trephine.

And what does one do with such an instrument?

One drills a hole in one's skull.

Well, I have many devices that can open a man's head.

Except the trephine does so with delicacy and accuracy and to cure rather than to k*ll.

Heathens believe the procedure releases evil spirits.

I believe it relieves pressure on the meat of the brain.

And you have one?

No.

They're not easily come by, nor in common use.

There's a fellow in Jamaica.

Charlie Rider could easily acquire it for you.

No.

I need Rider to know about this like I need... a hole in the head?

Hmm.

I could improvise a device.

I could have James Balfour's clock-making tools repurposed.

You'd open my skull with clockmaker's tools?

If you'd have me do so.

I most certainly would not.

And besides, I need Balfour to know about this even less than Rider.

Then I'm not sure what to suggest.

There are various drills and chisels.

Drills.

And chisels, indeed.

Drills and chisels.

Wait here.

What is he asking the surgeon to do, exactly?

I do not know.

I could not hear.

It's not in his nature to keep secrets from me.

He knows.

How could he?

How could he not?

How could he not what, Charlie?

Off you go now.

Commodore.

He's out of sorts.

Perhaps because you know longer seem to trust those closest to you.

I'm bewildered you'd think so.

Then tell me, what were you conspiring with the surgeon?

Conspiring?

There's only one soul with whom I conspire, my lady, and that's yours.

As long as we both shall live, I'll never conspire with another.

Simply because I've taken Tom into my confidence, why must that imply that I trust you any less?

Trust isn't like a pound of butter.

It's not as though I only have so much of the stuff to measure out.

Lowe makes my blood run cold.

Perhaps that's for the best, since your blood seems to have been running uncharacteristically hot of late.

Is your face known in Jamaica?

Not especially.

Why?

Nenna will take you there, to Jamaica.

You'll acquire a trephine, and you'll return, and nobody must know.

Not Nenna, not Selima, not Charlie Rider.

Nobody.

You trust me to do this?

No.

But I trust your desire for Kate Balfour.

A jolly stick is like a compass.

It'll always guide a man home.

You're leaving, I hear.

Clearly, it's inconceivable that a secret should ever be kept in this place.

Do you plan to return?

Of course.

Why? What's wrong?

Are you lying?

Why would I be?

Because it's in your nature.

You've lost me.

Who are you, Tom?

Really.

A surgeon.

You know what I am.

Why are you so afraid to speak the truth?

I'm far from afraid.

I'm speaking the truth.

I'm baffled that you, of all people, should think me other than I am.

I, of all people, have some idea of what you are.

I, of all people, know that you were abroad the night that Alain Mersault was lost.

You were skulking around, breaking into my warehouse, stealing God knows what for God knows what purpose.

I don't know what you want me to say.

What business do you have in Jamaica?

I'm returning to Jamaica because I was asked to.

This isn't of my choosing.

I'm beginning to wonder if anything you do is anything but of your choosing.

It would be nice if it were so.

What do you think my business might be?

Betrayal.

Of whom?

This island, these people.

I have no intention of betraying anyone.

Prove it.

It's difficult to prove yourself to be what you truly are.

Still, I'd ask you to try.

What's wrong?

Will you slice my throat to shut me up?

If I chose to betray this place, you'd be lost to me.

So please understand there is no cause I wouldn't betray, no belief I wouldn't disavow simply to be here seeing you every day.

So enough of this.

Enough.

[Indistinct conversation]

So?

He wouldn't betray the Commodore's trust.

I suggest you take a leaf from the same book.

Well, perhaps you're losing your mastery between the sheets.

He's just a better man than you take him for, Charlie.

Better than you, certainly, in all regards.

I know this must be crushing.

All those months of unease, lying alone in your bed, just thinking of the lunatic risk that you were taking.

Thieving from thieves.

Men who would slit you open from navel...

To throat...

If they knew what you'd done.

Oh, and now look at you.

So exposed and helpless.

I'm sorry, Nenna.

I truly am.

But I know there's more.

And I want all of it.

Forgive me, Nenna.

The Commodore has asked for a moment with you.

News from Cuba.

The treasure fleet will depart in four days.

The game is afoot, then.

Ha!

I don't want to stay here by myself.

Take me with you.

I would if I could, but I can't.

So let me say this.

Carry on as normal.

But if the day comes that you must leave, do so with great dispatch.

Take nothing and no one.

Hide.

Why?

Why? What's going to happen?

To innocents such as you, nothing.

The English will send ships.

They'll lay siege, and they'll offer a king's pardon to all who cooperate.

No one will be hurt that's not worthy of it.

And who are you to say who's worthy and who's not?

These people hate your country, Tim.

They'd k*ll innocents with their bombs simply for being who they are.

Do you want that on your conscience?

What about all the people you've k*lled simply because you were told to?

Do you have that on yours?

No, Mr. Fletch, because conscience isn't one of the burdens I carry.

But if you wish to add yourself to the long list of names I've slaughtered and forgotten, then betray me, I beg you.

Are you ready?

Mm-hmm.

I'll see you soon, Mr. Fletch.

Be good.

He intends to desolate and lay waste the English.

We can't allow that to happen.

Not all those unflattering legends about me are untrue.

[Chickens clucking]

[Knocking on door]

Ms. Ajanlekoko.

Please come in.

How's our progress?

It's been very slow, I'm afraid.

Although, I do think I found a property that might interest you.

The finest plantation this side of Carolina.

Of course, you need a white man to run it.

Do you need assistance?

I'm sorry?

Are you able to... what?

Read?

Well... you think what I currently am is all I am or ever shall be.

Do you know where I was born, Mr. Morrissey?

Do you know where I was raised?

Do you know what I had to do to become free?

No.

To you, I am an unlearned girl, unschooled, unpracticed.

If I have offended you, I am very sorry.

Oh! Oh.

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It dropeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath.

It is twice blessed.

It is mightiest in the mightiest.

It becomes the throned monarch better than his crown.

This is perfect.

This is exactly what I want.

Acquire it for me.

[Exhales]

[Silver clattering]

It may take a moment to determine their value.

Oh, there's no urgency.

He says he'll return.

Oh, he'll return, most certainly.

You trust him so much.

I do.

Most people pretend to be better than they are, and to be kinder and more gracious, and have compassion in their hearts.

Mostly it's lies.

Mr. Lowe pretends to be coldhearted, to have love for no man, nor any loyalty.

And he's lying?

Indeed, he is.

I hope you're right.

I am.

James?

Where were you?

Half the world away.

Scotland.

Come.

[Animals chattering]

My lord, are the mechanisms ready?

No.

Oh, I thought for a moment you'd said, "no."

I did.

I think I did.

I intended to, certainly.

Indeed you did.

Pardon my levity.

Do try to concentrate, Edward.

I'm sorry, my lord.

Henceforth, you shall have my undivided scrutiny.

Excellent.

It's not ready.

The calibration's off just a hair.

It takes too big a knock.

See? Intact.

My lord, I know you eschew the clock.

Oh, I live by God's time, sir.

The rising and setting of the sun.

The call of the... yes, yes.

But I must sail soon to enact a great endeavor.

So please, I beg you, do what you can with these as quickly as you possibly can.

I've been thinking about the day we were married.

Do you remember the vows we made?

Of course I remember.

You promised to be true to me.

James.

You promised to love and to honor me and to be true unto death, and I promised the same.

Please, James, not now.

It's I who broke my vows.

I swore to put you above all things, but I didn't.

I put politics above you.

God and the king.

At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.

In retrospect, it looks like cowardice.

You're many things; never a coward.

Oh, I was.

We should have been happy together, living the life I promised you.

Instead I took your love and your loyalty, and I soaked it up like a sponge.

And I gave nothing in return.

I used you as a mirror to my own vanity.

And I owe you a great debt.

An entire life unlived.

No.

You're my husband, and it's my... duty?

I want to see you happy, Kate.

Whatever it takes.

Do you understand?

Whatever it takes.

[Steady drum b*at]

Tom Lowe.

Back from the undiscovered country.

We thought you dead.

Gone down with the Petrel.

Not so.

Thanks be to God.

So what became of her, the Petrel?

She was att*cked and taken.

Taken by whom?

A ship called The Reaver under the command of Charles Rider.

And where have you been since she was took?

With Edward Teach.

[Glass shatters]

He's alive, then?

To believe in something in the face of universal opposition can be exhausting.

There were days, weeks, when I doubted my sanity.

A predicament with which I am not unfamiliar, sir.

No, I suppose not.

Always saying one thing and believing another.

What a curse for a man to number that among his talents.

Now, tell me about him.

Shoo. Shoo. Shoo.

What's wrong?

It's not enough.

It must be.

Not at current rates. I'm truly sorry, miss.

Is it at least enough to begin the process of securing deposit?

It is enough for that, yes, if I defer my broker's fee, which I'm most happy to do.

Then begin the process.

How much more do I need?

This property is mine, Mr. Morrissey.

How much more do I need, exactly?

And by when?

He seems genuinely to love his people.

His people?

He considers himself a king now?

In all but name, though he'd deny it.

Not a merry king.

There's always something of the melancholy about him.

He dwells excessively on depravities he's committed and on enormities to which he's borne witness, which is, I think, why he's decided to leave an alternative.

An alternative to what?

The world as is.

And what form does this alternative take?

A nation without kings.

Where all men and women, all casts and creeds, are equal.

Yet in this nation without kings, he is king.

It's a place of many paradoxes.

Being the dominion of a madman, it would be.

He's many things, but he's far from a madman.

This homicidal bedlamite?

This imposter king?

With respect, sir, I'm not sure which agency makes him any less a king or any more homicidal than this fellow.

This fellow?

Your king, sir.

Indeed.

And you and I both have dipped our toes in the ocean of blood spilled in his name.

The difference being he was appointed by God, and Blackbeard by himself.

Commodore Teach.

I'm sorry?

They don't call him by that name.

Why have you done this, retreated to the shadows?

You'd come so far.

I have no power over it.

I am a sl*ve of my own fear of leaving this house.

There are no slaves on this island.

If only.

I need you to heed me now.

I need you to hear three things.

The first is that I admire you more than I love you, and I love you a good deal.

The second is that I'm dying.

Of what?

Does it matter?

Of course it matters.

Is there any hope?

There's always hope.

Then Lowe... truthfully, what kind of errand do you think I'd send him on if not a doctor's errand?

And what kind of secret do you think I'd keep from you, except one that would 'cause you sorrow?

The third thing you need to hear is that the day will come when this island needs a new leader.

Edward, no.

Let's put these thoughts on one side and... no.

I will not have this conversation.

Well, I need to have it.

And there's no one but you to have it with.

Charlie rider.

Nenna.

There's no one else.

It's an absurd proposal.

The people have no love for me.

Serve them, and they'll come to.

They fear me.

They fear the unseen.

I do not want you to die.

Well, in that much, at least, we stand united.

Selima, without you, it's finished, all of it.

And I'll leave nothing behind me but ghoulish folklore.

But I have neither appetite nor aptitude for leadership.

Then trust me.

When I wake, the first thing I feel is fear.

The second is shame for feeling it.

But we cannot allow ourselves to become servants to what we can't change.

We must determine to become midwives to what we can.

You can't serve these people if you can't come to terms with their presence.

And you can't do that alone in a darkened room.

You can't.

In many ways, it's a rough and ready place.

But in some, it's agreeable, bound together in common cause.

Self-interest, theft, m*rder.

Indeed, there's no disputing they're thieves and K*llers.

I, myself, saw what they did to the Petrel.

And I've seen a good deal more since.

But they're also united in aspiration.

There's a common sense that their base nature is in a process of transformation.

You're treading perilously close to blasphemy.

There's only one being can transform our base nature, and that being is not Edward Teach.

I merely seek to report what I saw, sir, as I was ordered.

As a matter of fact, what you were ordered was to k*ll Teach on sight.

This is?

Selima Al Sharad.

And what's her place in this leper kingdom?

She's Teach's advisor and confidant.

Confidant?

They're intimate?

Extremely.

He loves her, then?

In as much as he's capable of such a thing.

Good.

Katherine Balfour.

Mm.

So this land of the free is quite the haven for wretches, would-be regicides, and turncoats of all color.

It is.

Then what brings you back?

Why now, Tom, after all these months?

I've been gathering intelligence.

At this point, you'd be wise to impress me with it.

Teach has a map of m*llitary posts.

I believe you should expect an att*ck on English interests, which could be stopped if you were to arrest Blackbeard, Rider, and a number of others.

Where is it, this island?

I'd like Teach to see the living skin stripped from every man, woman, and child who took shelter there with him.

Forgive me, sir, but annihilation of the entire island does seem a touch excessive.

I'd assumed there'd be the usual pardon for those who cooperated.

Well, I neither sought, nor do I welcome your assumption.

Sir, the people of this island are... are what? Innocent?

As good as you or me.

But I make no claim to be good.

And by God, neither can you.

What I am and what I pray you still are is the king's man.

Are there one or two, at least, that might be spared?

Perhaps. Who?

Katherine Balfour.

Yes.

I think we can agree to that.

And the husband?

That won't be necessary.

Any others?

My loblolly boy, Timothy Fletch.

He's been as loyal as any man could be.

Then he's earned his life.

I don't want to see it when it happens.

I want to be far away.

You'll be sent back to England with a notice of commendation.

This will be the making of you, Tom.

You'll be able to step out of the shadow of your own infamy.

You look troubled.

I must admit to feeling a certain responsibility to these people, having lived with them for a while.

Lived with them, or simply among them?

I confess to not being quite sure.

Then let it be a comfort for you to be reminded that you've done far worse things than you are about to do, and Edward Teach is a monster!

Now, where is he, Tom?

I have your word on Kate, Fletch?

They will be safe. You have my word.

And may God forgive me if you're lying.

He's here.

I imagine you're in need of a hot bath and a good dinner to feel like an Englishman again.

Very much, sir.

Except you're no longer an Englishman, Mr. Lowe, if you ever truly were.

I'm sorry?

The island to which you have pointed is Strachan Atoll.

There's nothing there but sand and wind, which I know to my cost, having once set foot there myself.

I'll do my job, Mr. Jagger, and I'll deliver Blackbeard to you, but I will not do so at the expense of people who've done neither me nor you any harm.

[Both grunting]

[Clattering]

[Grunting]

Left! Left!

Keep formation!

I need to acquire a trephine with some urgency.

And some bandages, if you'd be so kind.

[Bells ringing]

Stand aside, madam!

Fire when you have a sh*t!

[g*nf*re]

[Groaning]

Very close now! Very close!

[g*nf*re]

There he is!

[Panting]

[g*nf*re]

[Water splashing]

[Gasping]

[g*nf*re]

[Indistinct conversation]

[Sheep bleating]

How much?

No charge.

That's enough.

Come home now.

[Baby crying]

[Baby crying]