01x23 - Spanish Intrigue

[bunniefuu]

[knife thuds]

♪ Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie!

♪ He was a bold adventurin' man! ♪

♪ Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie!

♪ Battled for right with a powerful hand! ♪

♪ His blade was tempered, and so was he! ♪

♪ Indestructible steel was he!

♪ Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie!

♪ He was a fighter, a fearless and mighty adventurin' man! ♪

[carriage clatters]

- Señor Bowie!

- Yes sir, at your service.

- You advertised sulfur for sale.

- Yeah, I got 160 barrel.

- Your price?

- 13 dollars a barrel.

- I will take all of them.

- Well, dog my cats!

Hard money?

- Gold coins, sir.

- Done! I'll make it 2,000 in round figures.

- Good. You will please come to this address,

after eight tonight. Your money will await you.

- Yes, señor, that's a deal!

- Alright, fellas, I sold the lot.

Bring 'em up!

- Señor, you are the sulfur merchant?

- I was, I just sold out.

- Was it a firm contract?

- I struck my hand to it.

- That means nothing... Would 15 interest you?

- [chuckles] It would, if I hadn't already made a deal.

- With whom?

With one who will re-sell?

- Let's see...

Señor Carlos Miro, at the Santa Guzman.

[knocking]

- Well, howdy.

- Your pleasure, sir?

- I wanna see Señor Carlos Miro.

- You... were expected?

- Yes, I am.

- Señor!

- Señor sulfur man, we await you.

- A fencing academy, huh?

- The establishment of the celebrated maestro,

Señor Guzman.

- That's the last place I'd think to sell sulfur.

- 500 dollars, Señor Bowie, on account.

- The deal was to be cash on the barrelhead.

- But you will have the rest within the week.

Have no fear, señor.

The Friends of Bolivar stand behind the debt.

- Friends of Bolivar?

- A society of those who support our South American

w*r of independence against Spain.

General Simon Bolivar is our George Washington!

I am his purchasing agent.

In that case, Señor, you made a

real lucky purchase this morning.

You bare left before I had a firm offer of 15.

- From whom?

- A Spanish fella in a beard...

He was put out when I refused to sell.

- Litri again.

- That animal.

- He is a representative of the Spanish crown.

Señor, we are indebted.

- A deal's a deal; that's... 15 hundred ya owe me.

- Señor, if you have other supplies to sell,

medicine, grain, lead powder,

please, please come to us!

I soon have to leave, but Señor Guzman

will be my trusted deputy.

- Señores!

- Drunk as a pirate.

- He's hurt... bad.

Go get some help.

Easy now, catch your wind.

- Señor, please.

- Sure...

Who did it?

- No important... Me dama.

- Dama?

Yes, your lady?

- La Doña Maria, sir.

Pronto, señor... Barrack Street.

Number 200.

- 200 Barrack Street?

- Say to her: her father will be shipped

to Havana in two days.

He's prisoner at--

- Yes?

Where?

- At--

- Where's he prisoner?

- Maria, you have a visitor.

He brings news about Don Carlos.

- My name's Jim Bowie, ma'am.

- Maria Miro, señor.

Leave us, Tia.

- Here!

A token; we will pay.

- Pay what?

- What but money?

You came about my father, no?

- Yeah, I came to tell you that your father is a prisoner,

that he's being taken to Havana in two days.

- Havana?

Oh, no!

You cannot do that!

They will k*ll him there.

[coin clunks]

- Thanks.

- Oh, Señor, I have made mistake.

Please excuse, I think you were from those

who have my father.

- The only thing I know about your father

is that he bought some sulfur from me

the other day; you know, you were there.

I just brought you the message.

- Who sent it?

- The old Indian who was driving your carriage.

- Manolo.

- I found him dying in the street.

- Poor old man.

This morning, I can stand no more;

I send Manolo to ask questions, from other servants.

- He must've found out something.

- Yes.

Now I know our enemies, the Spanish have my father.

- How do you make that out?

- Manolo's message.

Havana is the Spanish... Oh, como se dice

en Ingles... Spanish "strongplace".

Who else would take him there?

- Why the Spanish?

- Because he has buy, for Bolivar, many supplies,

which are hidden here to await our boat.

The Spanish want those supplies,

like the sulfur he buy from you.

- Wouldn't he give 'im up?

- No!

Never!

That is why the word "Havana" make my heart stop.

He will die in a dungeon or he will be execute.

- Seems to me he oughta swap.

- "Swap", Señor?

- Give up the supplies for his freedom,

least that's what I'd do.

- But you are not Don Carlos Miro.

- Then why don't you do it?

Do you know where the supplies are hidden?

- What do you mean?

- I mean that you could go to these people

who're holding your father and you could do

what he's too... pig-headed to do:

offer them the supplies and get him back!

- Señor Bowie, you insult me.

You tell me to betray my country,

dishonor my father.

Pig, you call him!

Please, to go!

- Now listen to me, Doña Maria,

you sit down a minute.

Pig-headed just means being stubborn.

I'm a little pig-headed, myself.

As for your honor, I didn't mean any insult,

just being practical.

Look, your father can get more supplies...

but he's only got one life.

[bell rings]

- There's another gentleman to see you, Maria.

He insists on seeing you, too.

- Well.

- You, Maurice?

- At your service...

And yours, Señorita.

- Who is this?

- He's a friend of mine, ma'am.

We were together when we found your driver.

- I'm Toulouse, of the Louisiana Courier.

I seek information.

- What information?

- I'm told that Guzman and your father's

not been seen there for days;

I find his horse in the stable, yet--

- Señor, I appeal to you: print nothing!

To do so might cause his death!

- He's been kidnapped, Maurice.

- Señor!

- He might as well know it all.

They're after supplies he bought for Bolivar.

Rumor has it that he'll be taken to Havana.

- The Hijos del Rey.

- The Hijos del... what does that mean?

- "The Sons of the King"; the Royalist outfit,

most dangerous men.

Señorita, I urge you to come with me at once

to the Chief of the vau de ville.

- The police?

Have you not hear, it would cost my father's life?

- But that is a chance that must be taken.

- How brave you speak... is it your life?

Is it your business?!

- Yes, Señorita, it is my business; I'm a journalist.

If you will not go to the police, I shall.

- Maurice, I don't think we should go

to the police right away; I think we should

see what we can do ourselves, first.

- Have no fear, Señor... he will not.

- Well, now, look at this!

- Prepare yourself to stay here for two days, Señor.

Tia Rosa, let us show him to the storeroom.

- Just a minute...

You know, there's a chance that he's right.

- Tia, both will stay!

Your knife, please.

- No, ma'am.

- Then your word of honor, that

you will not leave here for two days.

- [chuckles] No, ma'am.

- Señor, do not force....

Please!

Such a hero in the face of nothing.

Go, get out, both!

- The g*ns will not sh**t...

we do not know how to put in the b*ll*ts.

- Señorita, I promise I will not act against your wishes.

But think: Is it not better to take the chance,

than leave Don Carlos to face the Spanish Cure?

- What is the "Spanish Cure"?

- Well... you know, Jim, those stories

about the Morro Castle dungeons.

- Oh, yes.

- He will t*rture him, is that what you mean?

- Of course.

- Just rumors, he doesn't know for sure.

- I know where are the supplies.

I will do as you suggest.

- Now wait a minute... don't do it on my say-so.

I was just telling you what I would do if I was

in your place, at least what I think I'd do.

Maybe I wouldn't, how can I tell?

- I have fought enough.. I will do it,

I will give the supplies for my father.

Dios mio, how?!

I do not even know how to reach the Spaniards.

Wait...I do know: Señor Guzman.

He is the friend of my father, perhaps he will help.

- Perhaps we can persuade him, Maurice.

- Touche.

- I'll say you, a touche!

[chuckling]

- Señor Bowie, you've come for

the rest of the money, no?

- No, sir, I haven't come for that; I need some help.

This is Monseiur Toulouse, of the Courier.

- We've met.

- Yes.

- Command me, sir, if it's in my power.

- Well, it's a kinda delicate matter...

We wanna how how we can get in touch

with a buncha Spaniards who call

themselves Los...

- "Los Hijos del Rey".

- Yes.

- You've come to a strange place

for that information, Señores.

Surely you're aware that here we support Simon Bolivar.

- A smart man knows who his enemies are.

- To know is one thing, to communicate is another.

What is the nature of your business with these... people?

- We speak for the Doña Maria Miro.

I can assure you, the information

is of the greatest importance, not

only to her, but to... Don Carlos.

- And to Bolivar.

- Well...In that case, it may be possible.

Will your business wait, say... 48 hours?

- No, sir.

- [chuckles] I'll do my best.

- Good.

- Where will you gentlemen dine tonight?

- The Chapeau Rouge?

- Yes.

- Chappel Rouge.

- Bien, expect to here from me there, this evening.

- Thank you, Señor Guzman.

[door opens]

- Yes?

- Most urgent matter, Don Jose.

I know I shouldn't come here like this, but I--

- Nor should you seat yourself without my permission;

you are paid to spy on the Bolivar scum,

this does not make you a social equal.

Now, what is your so important business?

- There appeared at my place this afternoon

two friends of Don Carlos: one an important journalist,

the other an American bravo named Bowie.

They wish to communicate with Los Hijos del Rey.

Obviously, they know something.

You did not k*ll the Indian, he lived to talk.

- Impossible--

- You listen to me!

Social equal or not, I'm involved

in this matter as deeply as you.

These men are a danger, these two days are crucial.

To move Don Carlos now will be perilous.

We must deal with these men.

- How?

- Dispose of them.

[paper rustles]

- Honored sirs, the stables of Señor Litri,

Versailles, 344... at the curfew hour;

not too loud, too soft.

Your obedient servant, Raul Guzman.

[knocking]

- Go inside.

[g*nsh*t firing]

[grunting]

- I makes mistake, Señor...

I thought you were horse thieves!

[panting]

- You hurt, Maurice?

- Just a scratch.

- What should we do with this "hero"?

- It's Litri.

- Who's he?

- Head man of the Spaniards.

- Maybe we can swap him for Don Carlos.

- He's the one who will decide that.

- Well, I'll just kinda help him along a little.

But first, I'll take him to the Miro's

and put that girl's mind at rest.

Here, lemme take this... you better get to a doctor.

Go on, Maurice.

Come on, this way.

[carriage clatters]

- Get out.

Come on!

- Señor Bowie... Maria...

She is not with you!

- Well, no, isn't she here?

- No!

She went with the man you sent for her.

- What?

- He said that you found Don Carlos.

- What man?

What does he look like?

- Wide, with scars.

- Guzman!

I k*ll that jackal!

- Guzman?

How do you know him?

- Guzman is a paid spy; he had been taking

my money, to betray the friends of Bolivar.

Now, he try to betray me.

- My deepest sympathy.

Where'd he take her?

- Señora, how long since they left?

- Ten minutes.

- You're gonna take me Don Carlos

and his daughter, now, you understand?

- I understand, Señor.

- Alright, get in.

Go on!

Pick up the reins.

Come on!

- Papa!

You ugly pig!

Lie, you!

He came to our house, and said you had been freed.

- Here's the key; free him, and hurry!

You're moving to new quarters.

[carriage clatters]

- So Guzman will use the girl to make Don Carlos

tell where the supplies are hidden, is that it?

Come on, talk!

- What else could he plan?

His only loyalty is to money.

He will sell the supplies to Mexico,

where there's a Civil w*r!

And with the money, he will set himself up as a gentleman.

- And you'da used the supplies for a nobler purpose--

- I would've turned them over to my king, Señor!

Along with Miro.

- You talk mighty big, for a man that's

just tried to k*ll me.

- I had no choice... Guzman was to help me

capture you, but he did not appear.

Hoping, no doubt, that you and I would dispose

of each other, while he went for the girl.

Listen to me, Señor, you have a

grievance against me, no?

But now I help you...

Grant me one favor: if we get there in time,

let me have a weapon.

Give me this Guzman!

- Maybe that's a good idea.

Maybe you and he can "dispose of each other".

- It's the house around the corner.

There is the house, Señor.

We are in time.

Stay back, Señor... Guzman is mine!

Give me the sword.

Please.

- Alright, go ahead.

Remember: I'll be close behind you.

- Si, Señor.

- The American is coming; get him

as he comes around the carriage!

- No!

- No, Don Jose...

I will get you... aristocrat!

[g*n firing]

[swords clinking]

[grunting]

- No!

- Stand back.

[sword thuds]

- Good.

There goes your bodyguard.

- Once she learns to sh**t, Heaven help the Spanish.

- All is complete, Señor.

The supplies are safe on board, we just await the tide.

For now, every hour brings the means of

victory, just a little, to Bolivar!

- Thanks to Señor Bowie.

- Yes, we are indebted.

Someday, Señor, perhaps in the future,

we will find a way of expressing our gratitude,

our admiration.

- Good luck, Señor.

- Gracias.

- Alright.

- Papa speaks of the future, but..

I would prefer to express my gratitude

in the present.

- You can.

Goodbye, Doña Maria.

- Goodbye, Jim.

- Take 'er away, boys!

Goodbye!

Good Luck!

♪Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie!

♪ He was a fighter, a fearless and mighty ♪

♪ Adventurin' man!