Are you certain this is wise, sir?
Stories I hear about the raiders in these waters,
their brutality...
Cui bono, Mr. Fogg.
These men profit nothing from blood.
They profit from cargo. And they profit most
when that cargo is least costly to win.
Those stories you've heard...
tools of the trade,
self-applied by the pirates themselves,
intended to separate us from our cargo
by surrender rather than sword.
These are men, Mr. Fogg, not monsters.
If we behave rationally and civilly,
so will they.
Down to the well, move!
The ship is yours, sir.
Our manifest.
Everything that would be of value to you
is accounted for, and its location in the hold.
Eight barrels, marked "JP,"
forward hold, port side. Mr. Neustadt, step to it.
Pardon me, Captain. May I ask,
are you one of the pirates that calls the port of Nassau home?
Three barrels, tea...
I'm a recent arrival to Nassau.
I only ask inasmuch as it's become something of a fascination of mine.
They say the reality of the place
is far more interesting than the myth.
The business there is so efficient, so enlightened,
that all trade is managed by a teenaged girl.
Tell me, is that true?
What is it?
Ashe.
As in Lord Ashe.
Then let's get on with it.
Everyone up!
Oh, no, please.
Go ahead!
Mercy! Merc...
I'd like to thank you for the orderly surrender of your ship.
It's truly amazing to me how many men in your position
lack the sense to do the same.
Ordinarily I would return the courtesy,
relieve you of your cargo and be on my way.
But your ship is about to yield a prize
of far, far greater value than our wildest expectation,
a far greater prize
for which I'd rather not leave witnesses to the taking.
Please, please, sir. I have a wife and a son.
Hell of a prize, Mr. Meeks.
Hell of a prize.
Captain.
Captain, before we're seen...
Don't call him that.
Well?
Well what?
The crimes you've committed against your crew are undisputed.
The only reason the sentence hasn't been carried out
is that I've been delaying the vote
in hopes that you might help me find a way to get that gold,
or as much of it as possible, off that beach.
Why would I do that?
Because if you do,
I'll personally guarantee your sentences are commuted.
You'll guarantee that, will you?
You underestimate your men yet again.
They will hear reason,
especially when it comes from a voice they can trust.
The men feel they're entitled to leave this ordeal
- with something to show for... - Fuck those men.
Fuck them for their shortsightedness.
Fuck them for their ingratitude.
And fuck them for siding with a cowardly,
sniveling shit of a mutineer.
There are over 100 soldiers on that beach,
sworn upon their lives to protect that gold.
In a matter of hours,
they'll dispatch teams to search for threats.
In a matter of days,
they'll locate our wreck and our camp,
and they will kill every last member of your crew.
And they'll deserve it,
none more so than you.
Bring them back.
We'll ready the nooses.
Wait.
The Urca's gold is secure.
A full complement of soldiers,
reinforced batteries... 18-pounders, all of them...
and men who know how to use them.
There's no way of approaching that beach from the land.
Why the fuck are we listening to him?
Yeah, why?
We should be cutting your goddamn tongue out
for all the lies you've told us.
Gentlemen!
No one is angrier about Mr. Flint's crimes than I.
Which is why you must trust me
when I ask you to hear what he has to say.
And even if it weren't for the soldiers,
even if it weren't for the guns,
there's a fucking warship watching over every inch of the bay...
a fucking warship that has already killed half your number,
a fucking warship that would prevent any approach
to that beach via the sea.
There's simply no way of stealing that gold.
But there might be something else you can steal.
The fucking warship.
What?
Too many soldiers on the beach, which means
that the watch on the ship is spare.
Two men approach quietly,
evade a handful of sentries
and eliminate the watch on the mainmast.
Now at this point,
while the sun is failing
but before the night watch arrives,
an assault could be made.
That ship
is your only means of escape.
And that ship is your only means
of taking anything of value
out of this ordeal.
And once it is in your possession...
- Enough of this. - Once that ship is in your possession...
- Do none of you remember his crimes? - Mr. De Groot!
Once that ship is in your possession, you will be invincible!
Now the risk
falls almost entirely on the first two men out.
I would volunteer
in exchange for your pardon.
That leaves one man to go.
One volunteer...
I'll do it.
I'll... I'll go.
Then let's put Mr. Flint's plan to a vote.
All in favor?
Aye! Aye! Aye!
The ayes have it.
__
Whoa.
Lord Thomas Hamilton?
Ah.
Are you the liaison sent by the Admiralty?
I am, my lord.
They say it started with a man named Henry Avery.
Sailed into the port of Nassau,
bribed the colonial governor to look past his sins,
encamped his crew upon the beach,
and thus began the pirate issue on New Providence Island.
Where and when will it all end?
I suppose that's where you and I come into the story.
As I'm sure you're aware, my father the earl holds great sway
amongst his peers in Whitehall.
He has asked for the assistance of Her Majesty's Navy
in pacifying the island to which he holds title.
He was assured that this request would be considered
- a matter of the utmost importance. - Undoubtedly, my lord.
Then perhaps you can tell me why they decided to send you.
Beg pardon, my lord?
A number of your superiors are former schoolmates of mine.
I canvassed them about your reputation...
the son of a carpenter,
no record of any formal schooling,
and yet more literate than any three boys I knew at Eton.
You are a rising star
with a bright future in the Admiralty.
You can understand my concern.
Not really.
Perhaps my lack of education is showing.
I intend to accomplish something here, Lieutenant.
I intend to save Nassau before she's lost forever.
And I cannot do that with a partner
who might be more concerned about advancing his career
than he is about realizing this goal.
- You want to save Nassau, my lord? - Very much so.
Then perhaps my job is to make certain you know what you're getting into.
You can go in now.
I'll go get us some rum.
Where the fuck were you today?
Here.
You wanted to be a partner to the consortium, did you not?
You wanted to take Hornigold's seat at the table?
Then that means you assume Hornigold's responsibilities,
first among them... turning up for the fucking meetings.
Is this really what you came up here for...
scold me for truancy?
This morning somebody killed two watchmen
and stole 500 pounds' worth of cargo from the warehouse.
Sorry to hear that.
Don't be sorry. Do your fucking job.
And what job is that exactly?
Hornigold provided security for the consortium's operations.
And you'd like me to fill that role for you now?
If your friends aren't capable of protecting themselves,
then I argue they aren't worth protecting.
What the fuck are you talking about?
You were the one who decided you wanted to be a part of this.
To protect the bay.
But to play the role of constable
for the benefit of Captains Naft and Lawrence?
Your problem isn't with me.
Your problem... you need stronger partners.
I had stronger partners, you shit.
What are you doing down there, Eleanor?
Corporate charters? Mandatory meetings?
The woman who stole ship and crew out from underneath me
has no appetite for any of that.
I think that's why you're so frustrated with me...
because you know all this, because you know I know this,
and because you know you are so much more like me
than anyone you've ever met in your entire life.
Jesus Christ, enough. Stop telling me what it is you think I think.
You sound fucking ridiculous.
Do you know what it is I want?
I want to figure out a way of selling everyone's shit here
for more tomorrow than I did yesterday.
I want to establish a future here that isn't measured in months.
And I want you to show up for a meeting when you're fucking told.
- Can't leave yet. - Watch me.
You haven't asked me the question yet.
You haven't asked me if I'm gonna let him in...
Flint.
Am I going to permit him to enter the bay with his Spanish treasure?
Assuming, that is, he returns with it at all.
Be very careful, Charles,
because at a certain point
I will remove you from this place, no matter what the consequences.
You'd do that? For him?
How is it you see such a partner in him and such a villain in me?
He wants what I want.
Are you quite certain about that?
Let's put it to a test.
Let's say I do separate Flint from his gold
when he returns.
And let's say you and I split it.
What?
Mm, see?
Not so easy.
Think about it... I kill Flint,
give you half a fortune, and then no more Naft,
no more Lawrence, no more compromises.
You could do whatever you like.
We could do whatever we like.
How important is Flint to you now?
Fuck you.
Fuck you, too.
Once the mainmast watch has been eliminated,
hoist your signal.
If there is no signal before the reinforcements
for the night's watch depart the beach,
I'll assume failure and begin our escape down the coast.
What if the signal is in time?
Then we'll launch our assault.
There is something about which I want to be very clear...
even in success
you will be expelled from the crew,
cast out.
Are we understood?
You shit.
Um, beg pardon?
I needed a fighter,
someone I could count on to make a difference on that ship.
What the fuck were you doing volunteering?
I'm sorry, I'm a little confused.
Why wouldn't I volunteer? If we're to try and...
Hang on.
You're serious about taking the ship?
What the fuck did you think?
I thought this was how you intended to escape.
Sure, it would be a few days of walking or so to St. Augustine,
but at least we'd have a chance.
You really mean to board that ship. Jesus Christ.
I'm not doing it.
I don't need to return to Nassau.
I am happy to find some other place to survive.
St. Augustine is that way.
It's at least a week on foot,
Tequesta tribes in between.
I doubt you'll survive to see sunrise tomorrow.
How are you even gonna get out there with one arm?
What is this exercise intended to prove, Lieutenant?
You want to understand why piracy flourishes
in the West Indies.
I'm about to show you.
Have you seen one of these before?
I'm afraid I haven't, no.
Who is he?
Davey someone-or-other.
High seas piracy, treason, so on and so forth,
same as the last, same as the next.
He's being asked if he wants to confess,
beg forgiveness in the eyes of God and Queen Anne.
Suck my cock!
I assume that was a "no."
So this is the lesson...
the pirates of New Providence Island
are incorrigible, dedicated to mayhem.
To attempt to address this subject is doomed to defeat from the outset.
It's not him I wanted you to see.
No mercy!
Go all the way to hell!
It's them.
Civilization needs its monsters.
You think Whitehall wants piracy to flourish in the Bahamas?
No, I don't think they want it, but I think they're aware
of the cost associated with trying to fight it.
And I think that that sound
travels.
You're an educated man, my lord, but I think it worth reminding you
that in most cases a man trying to change the world fails
for one simple and unavoidable reason...
everyone else.
Do as I say when I say,
or I'll kill you myself.
Well, that was easy.
Hurry up!
I will fucking kill you. Shut up.
For crying out loud!
10 minutes I've been waiting.
A moment's peace, my friend.
Surely you can empathize.
Jack Rackham.
The crew killer.
That's right.
Jesus.
What happened?
Same as yesterday,
though it would appear things have escalated.
When I came here, I had nothing
but my name and my wits.
A man in a place like this
surviving on those two things alone...
he suffers indignities,
slights, ridicule.
But I overcame it.
I used the wits to build the name.
I became quartermaster to a crew
that struck fear into the hearts
of many, many men.
Jesus Christ,
what's become of my name?
They pissed on me.
Tell me who did this.
So you can murder them all?
What a wonderful idea. Why didn't I think of that?
Tell me, though, how many men do you think
you can safely lure into the wrecks to their deaths?
Unfortunately, I'm afraid eight won't cut it,
as I am pariah to just about every able-bodied man
on this fucking island!
They pissed on me.
I will send someone upstairs to tend to him.
He is angry, but this will pass.
Stay the fuck away from me.
- Wait. - You almost got us killed.
- Almost. Almost. - For a fucking bauble.
It's a boatswain's whistle.
Look.
Doesn't it make more sense for us to prompt the lookout to come down,
than for us to go up there after him?
You are truly amazing, you know that?
We're both better off now than we were two minutes ago,
yet you're angry about it because it didn't happen your way.
Might you consider for a fucking moment
that your distrust of me is completely unwarranted?
I warned you about Billy. Was I right?
I found you over Mr. Gates's body,
and did I do anything but defend you?
When you were sinking to the bottom of the sea,
who do you imagine it was who dragged you onto that beach?
Brace yourself,
but I'm the only person within a hundred miles of here
who doesn't want to see you dead.
But this is the rate I can offer you for this material.
If it's unsatisfactory, feel free to go elsewhere.
This is absurd. There's absolutely nothing wrong with the cargo itself.
What's going on here?
Ma'am, these goods were presented for consignment,
but your man here refuses to pay full freight for it,
owing to the condition of the barrels they're in.
Put up a fight, did they?
Once we were on board, the crew turned, gave us no choice.
There was no malice in it.
Mister...
Meeks, ma'am. Quartermaster of the Fancy.
Mr. Meeks, do you have any idea what happens
when a marginally reputable cargo ship enters a civilized port
and attempts to unload 50 barrels full of cargo covered in blood?
This material all must be unboxed
and reboxed into clean containers before I can even think about shipping it out.
Between you and I, which of us should bear the cost of that?
Whatever happened on that ship, it was a costly fuck-up.
But it wasn't my fuck-up, and I'm not about to pay for it.
Ma'am, I must beg your understanding.
My crew is new to this place.
Going forward, we'll certainly keep this issue in mind.
Mr. Meeks, who is the captain of the Fancy?
Ned Low.
Please relay to Captain Low
that it is his responsibility to manage the taking of prizes
to avoid situations like this in the future.
If there are any savings in the repacking of these goods,
I'll be sure to pass them on to you.
Good afternoon.
Madam Guthrie.
You wished to speak with me?
Sit.
Do you know Captain Hallendale of the Straight Arrow?
Yes.
Not terribly strong or daring,
but knows how to manage a prize, reliable in that way.
Sorry, what has this got to do with me?
The Good Fortune was captured yesterday
but by a different captain who found her first,
beat Hallendale to her,
and then, instead of managing her surrender,
he put her entire crew to the sword.
I give Hallendale a lead.
Hallendale spends all his time in here.
And somehow that lead ends up in the hands of a fucking maniac.
Madam Guthrie, isn't it just as possible
this is a rather unfortunate but not at all implausible coincidence?
I sold it.
To Captain Low. He paid 90 pieces for it.
- Why would you do...? - Why wouldn't I?
Valuable information walks in the door, I should let it walk out?
Why? Because it bothers you?
Stay out of my fucking business.
Consider this the only warning you're ever gonna get.
- You fucking ingrate. - Now that's not helpful.
You mewed and whimpered in that fucking tent
till you had me all turned around.
Got me thinking you were some helpless thing they was beatin' on.
I get you out, and you pull this shit.
- Starting shit without telling us. - Let me explain.
- Don't you fucking talk back to me. - All right.
Either she's on her back, or she's out on the streets.
But if it ain't one of the two come tomorrow,
I'm gonna deal with it my way.
I will be very honest with you.
I could torture the two of you to find out who you are,
how many more of you there are
and what you're hoping to accomplish here.
I could find it out and you would both suffer.
But today is your lucky day, at least for one of you.
My commander arrives
to relieve the watch in less than an hour.
I need this matter resolved before then.
So neither of you will be here when he arrives.
One of you will tell me what I want to know,
receive this gold as reward,
be escorted to the beach for your escape.
And the other will be quite dead.
My name is John Silver. His name is James Flint.
We came here to steal the gold from the treasure galleon,
but he was deposed from his captaincy by a man named Dufresne,
who is now waiting with the rest of our crew in longboats.
You'll likely find them behind the promontory to the south.
I believe there are 32 of them.
You fucking...!
Suéltalo.
Sorry.
Huh-uh.
Shoot this one.
He'll get to the pistol.
This one has more scars... more fights.
You've got a better chance against this one.
- Not if he shoots me first. - Then beat him to it. Do it, quickly.
So I actually have to fight him?
Well, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen?
Do it! Do it!
Bolt the door.
Busquen algo para derrimbar la puerta, apúrense!
Table.
So what now?
They'll have to converge through the door, roughly a dozen of them,
and three pistols at our disposal.
And then what?
Hold your fire.
Mr. Logan, weigh the anchor!
We must get underway before they loose those cannons on the beach.
Up the braces! Up the braces! Unfold the canvas!
Come on!
- Return fire! - Return fire!
Cannons are loaded!
Get us underway! Get us underway!
Prepare to take fire!
Incoming!
...the fucking island.
...that Guthrie cunt...
Now get the fuck out.
All right. Fuck!
You have absolutely nothing to worry about.
Though I would recommend avoiding her for a while.
Get the fuck out.
If we are all going to make something of this place,
perhaps it is in everyone's best interest
that you and I find a way past all of this,
past your anger towards me.
I'm not gonna warn you again.
Your anger... it is understandable.
You killed your own crew to free me.
You suffered indignity in my defense.
Perhaps that is enough to warrant your feelings.
But perhaps there is something else underlying it,
something hiding in a place not even you can see.
Perhaps...
we would do well to...
bring it into the light.
What the fuck do you think you're doing?
Huh?
Ma'am.
May I buy that for you, miss?
My bar. Thank you anyway.
I confess,
I knew it was your bar.
Just a gesture for a pretty lady.
You must be new here.
I am, in fact. How could you tell?
I don't fuck customers.
Everybody here knows it. Now you do, too.
A sound rule.
Unfortunate for me, but sound nonetheless.
Still, it is unthinkable to me
that someone this beautiful is forced to spend her nights alone.
What's your name?
Ned Low.
You met my quartermaster Meeks this morning.
From what I understand, we were shortchanged
a fair amount on a prize haul
owing to the condition of its containers.
I understand Mr. Meeks told you
the episode on the Good Fortune was a case of self-defense.
I apologize for that.
When I heard he told you that, I knew instantly
that a woman of your stature would see right through it.
And if you're anything like me, you simply cannot abide a liar.
So I thought if I came here to tell the truth,
perhaps we might reach a more favorable outcome.
The truth is,
I'm not a particularly skilled captain.
Navigation is foreign to me.
I have no gift for politics.
So what am I good at?
This is going to sound absurd, but...
I make the men feel better about themselves.
See, every man here has served under a captain
who uses violence to achieve an end...
to terrorize, to advertise.
When the men see that, they can spot the lie.
They know that that captain is, in some part of his soul,
sickened by his own actions.
And the lie infects everyone who sees it.
But with me,
when the men see me slaughter the crew of the Good Fortune,
when they see me cut out a man's tongue from his mouth for lying,
when they see me burn a boy alive in front of his father's eyes,
they know, they can see it in my eyes...
there's no lie there.
There's no secret remorse there.
I simply don't have it in me.
At any rate, I hope that clarifies things
and illustrates why it is only fair
to compensate my men fully for their latest haul,
as it was an honest haul taken by an honest captain.
I intend to be here some time.
It would be a shame to make enemies of each other
over such a small amount of money.
Get out of my place.
I say get rid of him.
It's very lucky.
I rather envy you.
I remember what it was like the first time I met him.
There's a feeling one gets when in the presence
of the truly great men.
It's something quite indescribable.
I imagine you're having it as we speak.
"Indescribable" is a good word.
You question my husband's motives?
Not on the least, ma'am,
though I may question the outcome he's likely to achieve.
The game he is entering into
is a brutal and unforgiving one.
- Piracy? - Politics.
What's your name, Lieutenant?
McGraw... James McGraw.
Great men aren't made great by politics, Lieutenant McGraw.
They aren't made great by prudence or propriety.
They are, every last one of them,
made great by one thing and one thing only...
the relentless pursuit of a better world.
The great men don't give up that pursuit.
They don't know how.
And that is what makes them invincible.
17 yea votes against 15 nays.
The crew has commuted your sentences
by the narrowest of margins.
You will both be transported back to Nassau,
at which point you will be removed from this ship permanently
and without severance.
There'll be no further negotiation on the matter.
You were right, for what it's worth.
Beg pardon?
If your interests and mine were adverse to each other,
there's a good chance I'd cross you to save myself.
Then why didn't you?
Because at the moment
I don't believe our interests are adverse to each other.
I don't believe you did any of this for a pardon,
or a passage to Nassau,
or to be able to walk away from anything.
I think you intend to reclaim your captaincy.
I think you intend to take control of this ship.
And then I think you intend
to return to that beach, armed to the teeth,
and seize every last ounce of gold off of it.
And I think you're going to need my help to do it.
Tell me I'm wrong.
Sync & corrections by Elderfel www.addic7ed.com