All language subtitles for The.Knick.S01E02.BDRip.x264-DEMAND-eng

Ripped By mstoll

- Good morning, miss.
- Good morning.

It seems someone
called the Marquesa de Salobreña

is coming in for the opening of the season.

"Salobreña," dear.

The squiggly mark, it makes a noise.

So much young European royalty
in New York these days.

They call our money new.

But it certainly does attract a crowd.

Sure are some nice shoes.

Thank you.

Some kind of fancy leather.

Must have cost you heavy.

Everything moving forward
with the electrification

now that Thackery has seen the light?

Well, the crews finished the installation

on the operating theater and the wards.

Oh.

We're now a modern hospital.

The board must be pleased.

Aren't they?

Where you get a pair of shoes like that?

At a store.

Which one?

Maybe I get me a pair like that.

It's not a very fair position to
put a young woman in, August.

I'm sure Cornelia's only doing it

because she can't say no to you.

I actually like it. I just...

I wish I didn't feel so...

Say it.

So damn stiff.

Casswell's down on 20?

Tip Top on Madison?

Levasseur.

Le what?

Where's that?

Paris.

France.

I know where Paris is, nigger.

You lucky you was next.

I'm afraid no one
really takes me seriously.

I'm worried I'm letting you down.

Neely, sweetheart,

if I didn't think you were up to the task,

I wouldn't have put you there.

Yes, I could get any number of men

to sit in as my proxy, but no one,

not even your brother,

thinks the way I do more than you.

If you'd been born a man,
you'd be running this whole damn city.

I don't doubt it.

Besides, any bad news delivered to the board

or anyone else

would just sound sweeter coming from you.

- Thank you.
- Now finish your breakfast so you're not late.

Aye, aye, Captain.

That all of 'em?

Uh...

All that's living.

Got one more here, but he ain't moving.

Now he's moving.

He was dead
when we scraped him off the ground.

You a doctor?

Well, as far as I can tell,
he's another body delivered alive.

Wheel him in.

That's seven in all.

New building going up near Broad Street.

Me and Pouncey must have waited all week
for that crane to go,

but when it went, boyo, that really did it.

A holy show if I ever saw one.

Schuldheit and Sons,

so's you know where to send the bill.

I wager you'll already have your stretcher

waiting under me when my day comes, Cleary.

Might just.

Now, Mr. Barrow, it's the end of the month

and we need to be settling up.

Counting these seven, that's 22 altogether.

At two bits per,
that's five and a half you owe me.

Are you sharing with Pouncey?

Sure.

Just last week I bought
him a pint at the pub.

He's a good lad, but he's thick as champ.

Get a bucket and scrub out that blood

and see me in my office
and I'll have your money.

- All right, mate.
- This one's dead.

You can drag him to the morgue.

Looks like you'll be
buying one less pint for your friend.

- What the fuck?
- I told you he was dead.

Get in.

See here...

And one, two, three.

And this is the pathological lab.

My workshop.

Only one in the city.

Other hospitals may frown
on studying the dead,

but I believe it is the only way

to advance our knowledge of the living.

The answers to disease
and the body do not lie in house calls.

They're here, in a lab,
where we can experiment and calibrate.

Cancer, syphilis, tuberculosis,

all their mysteries waiting to be unlocked

and take us soaring into the next century.

They built all this just for you?

The wealth supporting The Knick is endless.

And people here want their hospital
to be the best.

And they're willing to pay.

All I have to do is ask.

Of course, there are certain obligations

that come along with getting what I want.

Such as?

Hiring a new surgical apprentice.

How did you come to know
Captain Robertson?

I, uh, I did some work with him in Nicaragua.

- Now he wants you here?
- No, that was my idea.

You are legitimizing surgery,

taking it out of the barbershops
and into the future,

and I want to be a part of it.

You do realize if you choose to join us,

the work will be hard and the hours long,

the results slow and agonizing,

and we will see no shortage of death
at our own hands.

But the rewards...

The rewards will be the
achievement of it all.

"When the blast of war blows in our ears,

"then imitate the action of the tiger."

Hmm.

Shakespeare.

Never read him.

I think the smells are
what remind me of him most.

His cologne. His soap.

His cut tobacco pouch.

How are you, Catherine?

I miss him.

I, uh, I meant to pay a call.

Let us both pretend you mean that.

I failed him, John.

- No.
- I tried.

Country weekends,
time with the children, dinner parties.

I thought I'd opened the valve for him,

but the pressure was still there.

Blame is easy. Truth is harder.

Then what's the truth?

That my dear friend Jules lost sight
of the procedure.

Stopped seeing the work,
started seeing the death.

Is that the cardinal sin?

You did everything right.
You were a fine wife to him.

Once a man shifts his mind
from the surgical field

to the patient under the drape,

it's only a matter of time.

How will it not take hold of you
the way it did Jules?

I have ways of getting through.

Check that
ligature with saline for leaks, Everett.

It's holding fast.

Dr. Chickering will now
cauterize the end of the duct.

No flame needed.

But does it make toast?

Very good.

Get it off! Get it off!

Bertie! Bertie!

Nurse Elkins, saline.

Nurse Monk, don't!

My family and I paid
more than $12,000

to electrify this hospital.

I am as furious as you are, Miss Robertson.

I gave the man his charge. I am to blame.

Regardless of who's to blame, to my father,

we both appear incompetent.

If our goal in wiring the place was
to showcase our modernity,

then might I suggest that killing nurses

and setting patients afire might
undermine the message a bit.

We were just discussing this and I
am in agreement with you both.

The contractor must be held accountable.

We should run him out of business.

Or just beat the tar out of him.

Thack, there is a lady here.

Well, from the looks of her,
I'd say she'd take the first bat to the man.

I would if I thought it would help.

I think we should let our attorneys
take a swing at him first.

Agreed.

Before we go tying this up in court,

allow me to speak to this thief

and force him to make good on his contract.

I warn you, Mr. Barrow,
do not throw good money after bad.

I give you my word.

I will not spend a penny
of the hospital's funds.

You have one week to resolve this.

Thank you for your patience.

Was there something else?

Yes. I've been looking for Dr. Edwards.

Have you tried his office?

Hello?

Algernon?

Yes?

This?

They assigned you this?

With their compliments.

What about the empty space
next to Christiansen's old office?

They say they have another use for it.

And your medical work?

I've been ignored mostly

and barely been allowed to perform any task

beyond the skills
of a first-year medical student.

And as for my teaching, well...

You can't accept this.
You're the Deputy Chief of Surgery.

A position they believe
I hold because of your family, Cornelia.

I expect these things.

You're upset because you don't.

Hello, dear.

Thank you.

Oh, would you take a few steps back?

- Why?
- Please?

Into the light.

Eleanor.

Oh, don't be a stick in the mud.

I'm proud of you.

Look at the camera.

Thank you.

We'll frame that and hang it on the wall
above Lillian's crib.

- Ready for lunch?
- Let me fetch my hat.

Eleanor. Nice to see you.

- Likewise.
- How's, uh, how's Lillian?

- What is she, nine months now?
Mmm-hmm.

She has your looks.

Which is a good thing.

Well, let's hope she has Everett's brain.

I was sorry to hear
about Everett losing the promotion.

- It should have been his.
- Eleanor.

It's all right, Everett.
Let the lady defend you.

You deserve that job.
You'll get it eventually.

Would you care to join us for lunch?

Other business to attend to, I'm afraid.
But thank you.

Herman.

When are we getting more cadavers?

We're through our last one,

and my surgeons seem to feel that practising

a procedure before attempting it

actually has merit,
at the very least for the patient.

I've been giving it my full effort,
but nothing's come loose.

We used to just compete for bodies

with Columbia, Cornell
and New York University,

but now everyone's training doctors.

What about Cleary's man
at the lunatic asylum upstate?

- He must have something.
- We were outbid.

Cornell is offering everyone triple.

I have checked with every indigent home,
prison and drunkard ward.

I can't seem to win a body.

Well, then offer more.

More than $75?

I need bodies, Herman.

Look, I have a lead on a failing heart
at Blackwell Island.

With any luck, he won't survive the week.

And if you need something
on which to practise,

we do still have a fair number of pigs.

His name is Mr. Gatchell. 35, day laborer.

History of syphilis.

He's suffering
from a rapidly growing aortic aneurysm,

eroding the second, third and fourth ribs

as well as the costal
cartilages on the left...

...of the sternum.

Beside Mr. Gatchell is Mr. Olynyk.

40, sea captain, alcoholic.
No history of syphilis.

He, too, is suffering
from an aortic aneurysm.

Complained of great pain
in the right side of his chest

to the shoulder when admitted.

Veins are dilated across the entire abdomen.

Diastolic shock can be felt.

Definite murmur can be heard.

Unless that's the damn lights
popping on again.

Treatment?

They were each given 10 injections,

250 cc's of a 1% gelatin solution.

Mr. Gatchell responded adequately.

Mr. Olynyk needed a second round.

Injection strength doubled. 17 in total.

It's all right. It's all right.

Let's open these shades, nurses, please.

We need more than window light, Herman.

I'm taking care of it.

Today or I will resolve it myself.

Absolutely.

We should prepare Mr. Olynyk for surgery.

He'll likely rupture within a day without it.

We'll, uh, ligate the aorta
with aneurysmorrhaphy.

I suppose
it's preferable to doing nothing.

Don't be so sure.
It's yet to produce anything but death.

Keep the, uh,
injections going with Mr. Gatchell.

Dr. Thackery,

I spent some time
at Hôtel-Dieu Hospital in Paris...

Scrubbing the floors, were we?

Working with Dr. Pierre Thibaux.

We experimented using a galvanic procedure
on aortic aneurysms

and had a fairly good success rate.

Thank you, Dr. Edwards.
But if I want your ideas, I will ask for them.

Even if our procedure had a 60% success rate

over gelatin and aneurysmorrhaphy,
which have zero...

60%? I find that very hard to believe.

Well, let the paper that Dr. Thibaux

recently published speak for itself.

As far as I'm concerned, you're only here

to keep the lights on
with the Robertsons' money.

And from the looks of things,

you're not even doing that very well.

You're a ripe
stick of shit, Barrow.

You want to come after me for your troubles?

You were the contractor.

We've had fires, surges.

A girl died, Clarence.

And you won't be laying that at my doorstep.

They come to ask Mulkeen
how this came about,

and I tell them
all about the money you squeezed.

You took the contract.

And you took all the dollars we needed
to do it right and true.

That girl's on your head.

I tell 'em so,
they'll be shackling you up in no time.

They want to get me
for kicking back to you after that,

they can have some good luck finding me
at my mother's in County Clare.

How much?

It's 1,000 to do it right.

800.

That's piss next to what you took.

It's all I've got left.

I'm robbing Peter to pay Paul.

And Peter still wants his money.

I swear on my children.

900 by the end of the day.

No drafts, cash.

Agreed.

A lot of gashes today.

We should charge on a per-stitch basis.

Were you told to monitor me?

What? No.

Of course not.

Those are finer sutures than I've ever done.

Please, try to hold your arm still.

Must you touch her so much?

Unless you expect
these stitches to appear by magic,

I'm afraid so.

So...

Is it true that you live
in the Tenderloin District?

Yes.

Oh.

I've been through in the day once or twice,
but not at night.

Is it really like they say?

Most everything that humans would do

if no one was looking and God didn’t judge.

Hmm.

I was thinking of going to the Haymarket.

My friend who's been there
says it's the most, um,

entertaining dance hall in the city.

I'm guessing your friend will soon have

a burning sensation when he urinates.

It's nothing more shocking or exciting

than what you see here every day.

Go to the horse races or a boxing match.

Bertie, they're preparing Mr. Olynyk
for surgery.

- Thackery needs us to scrub in.
- Right.

Thank you, Dr. Edwards.

Okay, we are all done here.

You, young lady,

were very brave.

I'll return in a moment with the dressing.

Excuse me.

Excuse me, madam?

Your arm needs attention.
Where are you going?

The Negro Infirmary on Minetta.

I can drain it for you right here.

No, you can't.

A little more suction there,
Bertie.

Very good.

Dr. Chickering will now
cauterize the anterior wall.

Well, it seems the old girl's
not out to pasture yet.

Might explode,
but at least it won't electrocute you.

Perhaps it's not too late
for a career in the law.

Oh, cheer up.
You've got a much better chance of survival

than this fellow.

I've located the aneurysm.

It makes the aorta
look like it has a balloon on top.

Take a... Take a feel, Bertie.
Palpate the distal side.

Won't even stay firm against a pulse.

It's lost all of its form.

It's miraculous
it hasn't already ruptured and killed him.

It's only a matter of time.

Hunter's ligation?

Resect the weak spot, try to reconstruct?

Yeah, with an aneurysm that large,

once we resect it,
there won't be much tissue left

with which to reconstruct the artery.

- We have to try.
- We do indeed.

Nurse Pell?

Holding steady at 110 beats per minute.

Once we clamp the pedicle,
we're on the clock,

as ischemia is very possible.

Where is Nurse Elkins today?

She's taken the shift on the postoperative
ward for Nurse Monk.

It seems our young Bertram
is unusually aware

of Nurse Elkins' whereabouts.

You seem
very interested as well.

Clamp it, Everett. Forceps.

You need to hold that
while I excise that edge.

It's shredding like paper.

140 beats per minute.

Give me some of that rubber tubing.

Then support the inside of the artery
while you sew around it.

There's nothing to work with.

It's in shreds.

Stay cool, Everett.

Just do what you can do
and continue to press on.

- All right.
- Now I'm gonna remove the tubing.

You close the hole behind it.

No, it's not going to hold.

Well, he'll certainly die if we don't try.

All right.

One, two, three.

I'll go to his family.

No, I'll go.

Bertie, you will accompany me.

We'll explain how the procedure failed.

It's tough luck, Everett.

He was doomed
before he entered.

We were simply attempting
to reverse his fate.

There just wasn't enough healthy tissue
for the sutures to hold.

Well,
we better find a better solution

because it's Mr. Gatchell who's next.

What about Dr. Edwards?

The galvanic procedure he mentioned?

Forget Edwards. He's a fool.

Yes, but he's a fool
who studied with some very fine surgeons.

I'm loath to take up his errand,

but dumb luck may have
stumbled him into something useful.

And I think we can all agree

there is nothing less useful
than what we just attempted.

We don't need him,

we just need the surgical paper
on the procedure.

Dr. Wodsworth has an extensive library
in his office on Park Avenue.

He gets all the European journals.
We'll look there.

I highly doubt
they'll be too keen on sharing it

with anyone from The Knick.

Well, then be creative.

Gentlemen.

I take it you're here on behalf of Mr.
Collier.

I would really prefer
you didn't just appear at my workplace.

Please don't touch that. It's an antique.

You were supposed to
meet Bunky this morning.

You owe your weekly.

Of course.

But there has been a tragedy.

Perhaps you heard.

A poor girl was electrocuted.

Which...

She could have been eaten by a whale

or punched out by Kid McCoy.

He don't care.

You're never too busy for Bunky.

See him by midnight

or you won't see the morning.

There, there.

All finished? All right.

Right.

Be back in a moment, darling.

How is he?

Mrs. Hemming,
I think you had better call for an ambulance.

Yes?

- Mrs. Hemming.
- Cornelia.

Hello.

I was told Cora
and your husband were admitted.

What is it?

Typhoid fever.

First Daniel, then, a few days ago, Cora.

Typhoid? The doctors are certain?

Yes.

And how are you feeling? Any symptoms?

No, but Cora seems to have enough of them
for both of us.

I'm so terribly sorry.

I promise you
there are no better doctors in the city.

Anything you need from the hospital
or my family,

please let us know.

Just your prayers.

- Cadavers, Herman.
- Not now, Thack.

Use the pigs.
We have plenty of them out back.

I can't use pigs. It's an aortic procedure.

I need human cadavers.

I'll get them.

I'll get them!

Yes, she came in about 11:00
this morning, but wasn't here very long.

Did someone take care of her arm?

No, she couldn't wait.
Said she had to get to work.

Did she sign your registry by chance?

I believe this is her.

Ida Harris.

Yes?

Here are those patient records you requested.

You've been avoiding me.

No, I haven't. I swear.

Take a seat.

Lucy.

- Please don't be nervous.
- I'm not.

Maybe you do make me a little nervous.

Well, after your experience
with me the other day,

that's understandable.

You found me in a sorry state.

And I asked something of you

that is beyond what a woman,
even a fine young nurse,

should be expected to do.

You know, my, uh, circus tent

is no place for a proper girl.

I was glad to help you.

I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing.

Does that happen to you all the time?

I mean...

You were so helpless.

I made a mistake.

I changed my routine
and I suffered dearly for it.

It won't happen again.

I'll be much more responsible
in monitoring my regimen.

Why do you need it?

Lucy,

there is a life we live
within the walls of this hospital

and one we live outside of it.

And these two lives need not intersect.

Do you understand?

I think so.

You saw me as no one else here has.

I did.

But I have a reputation here

in the medical community,
with my colleagues,

and any perceived weakness

could diminish their confidence in me
as a leader and as a surgeon.

And that in turn could
endanger the lives of my patients.

I understand.

What you saw

must remain between us.

Of course.

You sure we should put those on?

No one's ever here this time of night.

You've broken in here before?

He collects scrimshaw.

He won't miss a piece or two
every now and then.

Keep the details to yourself.

Holy...

What do you think, boy?

He suffers from gigantism.

Yeah, well, the Winslow Warlows could
use him as a punter.

Wouldn't even have to use a fucking cleat.

Oh!

This guy's nutsack's
the size of a sailor's duffle.

Huh?

Elephantiasis.

Well, I bet he can squirt.

I think this is it.

At least it could be. It's in French.

This way, please.

- This don't feel right.
- I't'll be fine.

Please.

What part of the hospital is this?

Have a seat.

I'll have to drain this slowly
over several hours.

What are you doing?

I'm going to numb
the nerve trunks in your shoulder

that lead down into your arm.

Have you had cocaine before?

No.

You're going to feel nothing in your arm
and wonderful everywhere else.

It's truly a miracle.

Give me a beer, a whiskey,

and whatever else you got back there
to get me properly squiffed.

"J.F. Mumford
of the New West Side Athletic Club

"did not fight like an amateur
when he met L. Smith.

"In the first round, he
sent Smith to the floor

"with a right punch to the jaw.

"Now in the third,
Smith began by landing some telling blows,

"but Mumford braced up and soon had Smith

"in a helpless condition."

Sounds like McCarthy getting
beat about by his wife.

Mr. T. Cleary of County Cork,

currently of Park Row,
took the fight to M. McCarthy,

shutting his mouth
and beating him with both fists.

He got what he was looking for,
didn't he?

I'm here for Nora.

And he has no knowledge
you're in this way?

I could never tell him.

He's not the sort of man who...

He just gets angry. He doesn't mean to.

But another child...

I understand.

Does he know where you are tonight?

Oh, Lord, no.

He's at the bakery.
Halloran's on Chrystie Street.

He works the ovens
from 10:00 to 6:00 most nights.

He can't know.

All right, you needn't worry.

Does it hurt?

A little discomfort.

But your husband will know nothing of it.
I promise.

But will God forgive me?

I don't want to go to
hell for killing a baby.

He knows that you've suffered.

I believe the Lord's
compassion will be yours.

Now, I need you to lay down.

I will make this as painless as possible.

Almost back to normal.

You starting to get some feeling
back in this arm yet?

Yes, thank you.

If you have any more problems, come see me.

I will.

My brother-in-law got
something wrong with his eye.

Think he could see you?

Absolutely.

This is a good deal, Bunky.

You don't tell me what's good and what isn't.

You don't tell me anything.

You don't come in here and change my rules.

I own you.

Slaves don't talk back to their masters.

Don't make me put another beating on you.

Please don't.

I came here like a man, didn't I?

A man doesn't come to me and beg.

A man doesn't get in the hole nine grand

and act like he's got choices.

A man pays.

And I will treat you like a man.

Your weekly is due in two days.

You will pay in two days

or you will suffer in two days.

I just need a little more time.
A week at the most.

Two days!

I said two days!

What are you doing? What are you doing?

What are you doing?

Open.

No, no, no.

Open, open, open.

I'll hold on to that as collateral.

Hmm.

Well.

Mr. Paris Shoes.

How they look with a little

poor man's shoe polish on them?

Uppity motherfucker.

Think his ass don't stink.

You think you better than me?

Hmm?

How many bowls?

Four bowls.

Anything else?

No.

That's enough for me, Wu.

Dr. Thackery thinks that
oranges are free here.

You come back soon?

Tonight maybe?

Where else would I go?

Ripped By mstoll