Who are they?
Maroons. Escaped slaves.
They must have a camp upriver.
She is everything here.
Priestess, governess, warlord.
She's not to be underestimated.
Spain. What did you have to promise them?
That I would secure the remains of the Urca De Lima's gold
and return it to Havana.
You set aside some of the gold?
- She did. - How much?
- Eh. - You don't think there's any way
we can challenge that blockade directly, do you?
We're working on something to even the odds a bit.
Get her inside!
I wonder if the pardons are the victory
and that the most enlightened thing that I can do
is let this be the end of Captain Flint.
The pirates must be eliminated.
Why not consult Father?
Your father aids us from his position in Nassau.
- Please, come with me. - Lower your weapons. Now!
No, no! No!
Sync & corrections by Elderfel www.addic7ed.com
I saw a dead dog lying in the grass when I was young.
She was an old bitch in life,
but just a pup in death.
I remember seeing the first flies set on her eyes.
How strange it was that they looked so alive
and yet did not move.
That was the first moment
that I wondered what this moment would feel like.
James, you resented me
because we were so close...
and I threw it all away.
If you join me now,
what if I resented you for the same reason?
What would I be throwing away?
You can't see it yet, can you?
You are not alone.
Who is that?
That is the king.
Wind's in our favor.
Should be arriving in Ocracoke in three days' time.
My fourth wife, Constance...
a sweet girl, bright, but she had her notions.
Cricket in the house means good luck, a moth in the house, bad.
And the bed... Jesus, the bed.
No hats on it, no brooms near it,
nor any clothes in it that were worn outdoors.
Any violation of this brought great misfortune.
I mean, for an otherwise sane woman,
she had these pockets of complete and thorough madness within her.
Although it's been six years since I've seen her face...
to this day, if I...
if I see a broom by a bed, I... I have to move it.
What the fuck are you talking about?
A woman has that power, God-given,
to leave her marks on you.
And it's far harder to dispose of the marks
than the woman who left them.
You think I'm having second thoughts
about leaving Nassau?
That that is the mark Eleanor Guthrie left on me?
I know it is.
And I know that you're conflicted
about what you have left behind.
But the question is whether you can cling fast
to the truth we both hold in our hearts,
the truth that makes us of the same mind.
And what truth is that?
That a lion keeps no den.
Because the savanna, all the space within it,
everything that walks and crawls upon it belongs to him.
When I talked like that, they all looked at me like I was mad.
They never understood.
There's hardly any of us who do.
Sails!
- Three masts. - Colors?
Spanish.
Signal the fleet.
Set a course to pursue.
It was never a rule. No one ever decided it.
It was just something of an understanding.
Spanish ships are to be avoided.
Yeah, for fear of reprisals against Nassau.
I suppose that's one less thing to worry about now, then.
Give us the room.
They say you are dead.
They say you were defeated by Captain Hornigold.
They only truly ever have half the story, don't they?
Yeah.
It's fallen. Hasn't it?
A pardon was offered,
and it brought down our defenses without a shot bein' fired.
Did no one put up any resistance? Not even Vane?
Obviously he took no pardon,
but it was all he and Captain Teach could do to escape.
Teach?
Teach was there on the island?
He was. But he and Captain Vane
slipped away with most of the men and ships
that might have been willing to resist the occupation.
I wonder if ever a war so loudly anticipated
ended so quietly.
How?
How did you do all this?
Before the Rosario raids, there were warnings,
whispers that Spain intended to retaliate
against Richard Guthrie and his growing pirate empire.
I could not leave my wife and daughter in harm's way,
so I secured them passage here.
It was smaller then, disorganized,
but it was far more remote than other camps like it,
safer.
They agreed to take my family in,
and I agreed to offer them support from my position in Nassau.
Of the hundreds of slaves killed by the Spanish soldiers
during the raid, no one even questioned me
when I suggested that my wife and daughter were amongst them.
Not even Eleanor.
When Richard Guthrie left the island,
I was left to oversee his business,
but the scrutiny of wearing the crown
made secrecy difficult and travel near impossible.
Once Eleanor was ready to assume control,
I encouraged it so that I might manage
the survival of both places
outside the scrutiny of either.
For as long as I have known you,
you've been two wholly separate men.
Until now.
Now I can no longer do that which I am needed to do.
Now my wife, my daughter, and all who live here
are in the gravest of danger.
They must find a way to steal what they need to live.
They must learn this skill fast and well lest it lead them to be discovered here.
And they will need help to do so.
Your help.
A partnership?
He said that?
With Nassau gone, they've lost a vital supply line.
We would go out on the account... hunt for them,
using this place as a hidden base for operations.
However, he acknowledged that he lacks the ability
to ratify any such arrangement.
He has authority here, but he doesn't have the final word.
The queen.
Her concerns about our trustworthiness remain.
He said that he would arrange for me to appeal directly to the queen,
try and convince her that we are worthy allies,
and that given the fall of Nassau, we are partners well matched.
They have a home with no means to supply it,
we the other way around.
And what if you can't convince her?
I will put the case as best I can.
But if I feel that it isn't happening...
Then I get in close to the queen
and make it clear
that either everyone on this crew is released
with a guide to take them safely back to the beach,
or the queen dies within days of the king.
Even if you could get to her without being killed in the process,
even if you could get the knife to her throat
and convince them to let us go, you would never get out of this alive.
Told you once lived here.
For a short time, when I was very young.
Before my father moved us to the interior
and the opium traders claimed it for themselves.
Home to a smuggler, den to opium fiends,
salon to a pirate king.
Suppose I'll fit right in.
Before any of that, it was home to a long line of governors.
It will remember.
Yes, well, let's hope I don't fit in too well with them.
Sir?
- For your signature. - Thank you, Lieutenant.
What is that?
Petitions to the Lloyds, attesting to the fact
that the damage to the "Willing Mind" last night
was no fault of ours and thus insurable.
A month from now, somewhere in Cornwall,
a clerk will be asked to draft a letter to Charles Vane,
asking for his version of events.
And they'll withhold payment for years, awaiting his response.
Between you and I, if there were ever a moment
in which I sympathized with the desire to tear down the flag
and declare myself in open rebellion against the Crown,
it's when dealing with the insurance company.
He isn't coming back.
Charles Vane is no longer a part of Nassau's story.
You know that, yes?
My lord.
Do you have it?
Excavation of the northwest tunnel is complete.
- After significant work to... - Do you have it?
The main vaults are secured, as are its contents...
a sizable fortune in Spanish gold.
Thank you, Captain.
The Commodore will take control of the structure
and ready the gold for transport to Havana.
Wait.
Any news from the fort as to Captain Rackham's whereabouts?
I'm told he and Anne Bonny fled before our arrival.
Their... their whereabouts are unknown.
Why?
Spain may be appeased, but the street is still an open question.
If you want me to help you play that game, I need to know where all the players are.
I see.
And when do you presume this game begins?
It already has.
Next man.
- Sir. - Your name.
Fowler...
I am once again a citizen of the British Empire.
Mm-hmm. Congratulations.
- And your profession? - Sailmaker, sir.
Thank you.
Next man. Name?
It's done?
I do solemnly swear.
Signed my name, and my account with the law is now square.
A few hours ago, any magistrate in the Empire
would have hanged me without hesitation.
Children would have cheered,
women would have taken comfort... one less villain in the world.
Men would have looked on in awe,
wondering what adventures and mischief
they'd missed in their lives that I'd lived in mine.
And with the stroke of a pen, it's all gone
as if it never existed,
rendering me nothing more than a humble tavern bookkeeper.
I sincerely hope this doesn't diminish your attraction to me.
- Move aside. - Coming through. Step aside.
When weeks went by
with no news of your sentence having been carried out,
I assumed an arrangement had been reached
to carry it out privately
or a deal had been brokered
to commute your execution to a long prison stay.
I suppose I should have seen this,
that somehow your grip on this place
would be too strong to be denied by a king,
his laws, or even your death.
In the winter, the sun drives hard through those windows.
You'll be blinded there lest you keep them shuttered all day long.
I had the desk where it was for a reason,
though I suppose you haven't been here long enough
to know how to sit in that chair.
So here you are,
and I do not imagine you came to decorate.
The governor is going to announce today the formation of a governing council.
12 seats.
Six filled from his ranks,
six filled from merchants native to the island.
It will signal the governor's clear intent
to give the people of New Providence Island
a meaningful say in their own futures,
and we would like you to bless it.
I am sorry. Are you offering me a seat?
No. The six names have already been chosen,
and yours is not among them.
I own title to more of the street than you ever did.
I earn as much legitimate income as you ever did.
I have no enemies and strong friends.
I am the one they all come to here
to make peace between them when no one else can.
You are a pirate.
Excuse me?
The first thing he asked me to do
was to identify pirate ringleaders on the island.
Organizers.
And you named me?
Undermined my reputation with him before he...
You abetted the practice.
You signed articles, for Christ's sakes.
You held a share in an active crew.
What I have done so thoroughly pales in comparison
to what you did before me.
And I lost everything for it.
I lost everything.
Remember that when you sit in that chair.
You were wise to come to me.
If I remain silent about this council or, worse yet, oppose its formation,
it will sow all manner of mistrust and apprehension amongst my colleagues.
For if I can be so easily discarded, who next?
Which is why you won't remain silent.
Really? Why?
'Cause this is important to him,
that the street understands that his intentions are genuine
and he means to be a friend.
If you undermine that,
he can make life very difficult for you.
You should know
people do not speak to me that way anymore.
Be smart.
Was I on that list?
That night before you were taken,
when you made the first of your lists of those you wanted to see dead...
Mr. Stayton, Mr. Atz, Mr. Featherstone,
Jack, Anne...
was I on that list?
No.
The night I was taken,
did you inform Hornigold where he could find me?
No.
Ellers.
Captain?
Get me some rum.
You think that this is something you can ignore.
It isn't.
I said I would hear him.
How is that ignoring anything?
You said you would hear him.
I need you to listen.
I understand that you think that Flint is the answer to all of it.
I would like to tell you that I agree
if for no other reason than to appease you so you can rest.
But in the state that you're in,
the one thing I swear I will not do is lie to you.
I will hear him.
I will look in his eyes while he tells me
that he can be trusted to be a partner to us.
But if I for a moment doubt him...
Do you trust me to make this decision?
Of course I do.
Shall I come back?
Come.
Rest.
Did she listen to you?
No.
You?
I removed one of them from the cage last night,
spoke briefly with him.
Why?
You're my father, and I love you...
but I do not know you.
Those men, they are your life.
I wanted to know it, at least a little.
I will be all right.
You're against it.
An escape plan that involves the certainty of losing our captain
in lieu of potentially getting a powerful ally.
"Potentially" being the operative word.
And if he tries and comes up short,
we may lose our only shot of gettin' out of here alive.
This would seem to be no choice at all.
Maybe, though you seem awfully eager to get rid of him.
'Course I am.
We propped him up because his strength as a captain
was the thing that was gonna keep us alive.
But now his death becomes that thing.
I understand that you've made gains
towards a rapport with the captain in recent days,
but if he wants to sacrifice himself so that we might go free,
I mean, that might be the first selfless thing
he's done for our benefit since we've known him.
I'd ask you not to get in his way.
Open.
Charles.
My lord.
I think you know who I am.
May we have a word in private, please?
With everything I have sacrificed
to be a part of Nassau's future, please understand,
I cannot endorse a version of that future
in which I am still on the outside of it looking in.
You want a seat on the council.
You say you want to be a friend of Nassau.
Well, I am Nassau.
You question whether I deserve this friendship.
It is a fair thing to ask.
So I suggest, like the longest lasting of friendships,
the one that lasts to the grave,
I substantiate my worthiness to enter into it with a dowry.
For obvious reasons, that is only a sample.
There are several thousand more behind it,
assuming we are able to reach an agreement here today.
These are profits from running a tavern?
Jesus. It's from the Spanish gold.
Money you held out from the fort... your share.
Not as far as you know.
Not as far as Spain knows.
As far as anyone knows,
the entirety of the Spanish gold
was captured today in the fort by your men.
And this?
This comes from nowhere.
That is its virtue.
No covenants, no conditions.
No history.
Just an unexpected investment from a loyal resident.
An investment so substantial, I might add,
it would dramatically, if not definitively,
improve your prospects for success.
And what exactly would you want in exchange
for this investment?
An end to this conversation.
An end to questions about my past
and a new beginning in which we all agree
there is no history in this place anymore,
only a future in which you and I are truly friends.
Billy doesn't give a shit if you die tomorrow.
But I suppose you knew that already.
You know, the strange thing is, I...
I should be with Billy.
Until most recently, I'm quite certain I would have been.
Unbothered by the idea of trading your life for the rest of the crew's.
And yet, for some reason,
right now I am bothered by it.
But I understand it.
I understand the allure
of ensuring that no one will ever think you
the villain you fear you are.
What a waste, it seems to me,
knowing it doesn't have to be this way,
knowing the man who talked me into giving a shit about this crew,
why, he could talk those people out there into anything.
If he wanted to.
Jesus.
Billy.
I have great respect for your husband,
and I know what he wants me to say...
that you have no choice but to use me and my men to hunt for you,
that I am your only means of survival.
But let's be honest.
If that is all I can offer you,
then my men and I are dead before the sun rises tomorrow,
because you know there is always a choice to be made,
and you don't trust me at all.
So...
let us assume that I can offer you something better.
You have hidden in this place for a lifetime,
hidden from the harsh realities
that lie beyond this veil that you have constructed here,
but the moment that that shot entered his belly,
that veil began to unravel,
and sooner or later,
you are going to have to confront these realities,
chief among them being that England takes
whatever, whenever, however it wants.
Lives.
Loves. Labor.
Spirits. Homes.
It has taken them from me.
I imagine that it has taken it from you.
And when that veil drops altogether,
they will come for more.
You're suggesting that you could help us
prevent England from taking these things?
No, I am suggesting that we help each other
start taking things back,
and it starts with Nassau.
You cannot stay here.
This camp's secrecy is its virtue,
but that secrecy is going.
Nassau is defendable.
Nassau can supply itself.
Is that not exactly the sort of place
that could replace this?
A place that you could settle?
Settle? Governor Woodes Rogers
holds Nassau Town with a full company of British regulars.
He holds the harbor with a small navy.
He holds the men on the street with his pardons.
Woodes Rogers has an inoperative fort,
responsibility for an administrative nightmare
that isn't going away just because he wants it to,
and an island full of hunters that may be placated for now,
but could be awoken.
That I could awaken.
How do you propose to do that?
They pledged to follow me when they thought I was alive.
They turned when they thought I was gone.
So I will come back from the dead
and lay claim to what I am owed.
Let's say that by some miracle
we could dislodge the British from Nassau.
I could not possibly hope to defend it with my numbers.
Your numbers?
For every man in your camp,
there are thousands somewhere in the West Indies
living under the same yoke,
chained in fields, pressed on ships,
sold into indenture.
When they see a sitting governor
protected by His Majesty's Navy,
deposed by an alliance of pirates and slaves,
how many consider joining that fight?
How many thousands of men
will flock to Nassau, join your ranks,
and help you defend it?
What does a colonial power do
when the men whose toil powers it
lay down their shovels, take up swords,
and say, "No more"?
Bring down Nassau,
maybe you bring it all down.
Spanish intelligence.
They'll carry files from station to station,
relaying information up the chain of command.
Looks like this was a heavy load.
What do you think they could have had in there?
Well, it could be inventories for silver shipments.
Could be treasure fleet schedules.
Could be private letters of the goddamn king.
Could be anything.
Captain. Your name's in here.
What?
The reports from the Bahamas.
English operations in the area
and a dossier on the new governor.
Part of an invasion plan
in case they decide to go in.
No, this isn't remotely a plan.
It's just someone's notes. Fragments.
Is there anything of value in it?
Not unless we have an interest in invading Nassau,
which I don't think we do.
Do we?
No, we don't.
Governor hasn't even been here that long.
How do they learn anything about him so quickly?
Well, same way they do all the British governors in the Americas.
They have a spy in his office.
What are you thinking?
At the end of every great achievement that has ever been,
I imagine one looks back and is reminded
of the one moment when good fortune reached out
and gave the thing its blessing.
I think this is the equivalent of five years' worth of tax revenue
without an ounce of the resentment that traditionally comes with it.
I've felt fortune's other hand so many times,
the one that takes instead of gives,
had it snatch away victories that by all rights should have been mine.
That feeling I know too well and still bear its scars.
But this...
This feels different.
What happened that time?
How did you get that scar?
Combat with a Spanish galleon off the coast of Mexico.
We had routed her.
By all rights, her colors should have been struck.
And they were, just minutes after the event.
But in that moment,
one of her stern chasers fired a shot at the most implausible angle.
Nothing more than the desperation of a dying thing,
but that shot hit us right at the helm.
When the smoke cleared, my brother was dead
and I had this.
Though I suppose it's some strange irony that if he hadn't died,
it wouldn't have made for nearly as interesting a book
and I probably wouldn't be here right now.
I'm sorry. Were you summoned?
Please forgive me.
This is so foreign to me.
I... I don't know how to do it.
About six months ago,
I was approached by a man who introduced himself as John
and said his employers wished to monitor your operation to retake Nassau,
said they had a vested interest.
I assumed this had something to do with your investors,
which seemed perfectly legitimate.
They offered me a significant amount of money.
I said... yes.
It turns out the man's name is Juan Antonio Grandal
and his employer is the intelligence department
of the Casa De Contratación.
Upon our arrival, I received a query from them.
It said the department spies had learned of a series of transactions
to exchange a significant portion of the Urca De Lima's prize gold
for more portable commodities.
An attempt to walk away with their money
without them knowing of it...
a scheme they find most insulting.
I was then asked if you had yet learned of this converted cache.
So standing outside the door just now,
I found myself faced with two choices...
report what I had just heard,
that you are considering keeping this money
and know that Nassau will likely burn for it and me with it...
or I could open the door
and warn you of the full scope of the danger you face
if you do not return the entirety of the hidden cache
along with the gold from the fort.
I cannot even begin to imagine
what would motivate you to tell a lie like this.
So let's assume for the moment
that you are telling the truth.
I will see this money secured
and return it with the rest of the gold in a matter of hours.
You'll relay this to your contact.
No.
No?
Why not?
The department has estimated the approximate total value of the cache
based on the scope of the exchanges involved,
and that is only half of it.
I've been thinking about our plan.
Yeah?
A skiff to Port Royal,
connect with your acquaintances there,
purchase ship, hire crew,
make way back to the continent,
at which point the money will be secure
and we can establish whatever future we choose...
the plan.
Yeah?
Yeah, there's a problem with the plan.
- It was your plan. - I know.
But I'm afraid I might have overlooked a critical step,
something I'm not prepared to do.
What step?
We'd need to change our names.
Eventually, the money will protect itself.
It'll hire guards, it'll make us friends,
it'll shield itself with investments and partners,
but as long as it is in its current form,
it is as vulnerable as a newborn babe.
To protect it, given the attention our names will draw to it,
we'll need recourse to the law.
And at the moment, the only thing the law wants
with Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny is their necks in nooses.
To have that protection, we'll need to assume new identities.
So we change our names for a bit.
- Who gives a shit? - I do.
A little bit. I do.
With everything I've lost in recent days,
I can't afford to lose the name, too.
Not when it is so easy to keep.
- No. - Just listen.
Are you out of your fucking mind?
Charles was the only one they singled out.
They could have mentioned us. They didn't.
They had pardons for unrepentant murderers back there.
If that is the case, then there are certainly pardons for us, too.
- Jesus Christ, Jack. - It'll take us half a day, if that.
We walk into the tavern, we sign our names,
and then not only are we square with the law, our money is, too.
We did it. We beat the fucking game.
Walk another half mile, we get in that boat,
and we win.
And you wanna go back?
Then this... You stay.
Maybe it's better that way. You can watch the money.
I'll return within a few hours.
We'll be on the water by nightfall.
I'll meet you here. Stay off the road.
No more than a few hours.
Promise.
Mate.
I'm going to admit something to you.
Please don't take this the wrong way...
but I didn't think there was a chance in hell
that was actually going to work.
Me neither.
Thank you...
for opening that door.
So what happens now?
Now we marshal whatever resources we can,
as many ships as we can muster and allies to sail them,
men resolved to defy the pardon
and ready to join a war.
Now we go find Charles Vane.
Sync & corrections by Elderfel www.addic7ed.com