Original subtitles

They killed my brother, so I killed one of theirs.

When the killer pulled out his gun, an inch of his wrist was uncovered.

His skin was black.

We're interested in the man who lives in the Wapping Wall. The fighter.

Mr Moscow.

This is Prince Albert Victor, second in line to the British throne.

You said you have an offer for me?

I have land.

A sugar plantation in Jamaica. It's a place called Morant Bay.

If you lead me to victory, then it's yours.

A job's come through from New York.

We have an associate on the way. She's a very smart woman.

You want me to run?

Well, if you don't, there'll be a war.

Hezekiah Moscow. The day of judgement is upon you.

I'll handle this. You take care of the girls.

Sugar Goodson?

The Jeremy family and the fighting men of Elephant and Castle

demand that vile, murdering beast be handed over to our custody here and now.

Or I will burn the Blue Coat Boy to the ground

with all the souls contained therein!

Jesus.

I will burn it. Every single one, they will die. Bring him out.

Let's have him.

Last chance, Sugar.

I will talk to you, and you only, Bull.

Oh, Mary.

Is that your pretty voice I can hear?

I should have known you had a hand in this.

Right, Sugar. You can hand her over and all.

We take both of 'em, we'll be on our way.

My answer is fucking no!

We don't give up souls on Goodson territory!

Fuck it.

Mr Jeremy!

I am the man you seek.

Hezekiah Moscow.

Nice to put a voice to the name.

There's only one honourable way of ending this.

You and I fight.

One to one.

What do you say?

Well, I say you've got a deal.

They will kill you.

Get in there, get Mary, and drag that fucking bitch out here.

Hezekiah Moscow.

The man himself.

Oh.

What happened to a fair fight?

Oh, I've heard all about you, boy.

I think… I think this helps even up the odds, boys.

What do you think, hey?

This makes it fair.

Oh, hit him. Come on, Bull. Hit him.

Come on!

What the fuck are we supposed to do now, Mary?

Listen, I had Indigo done in for us.

Now you can cower here like lambs for the fucking slaughter,

or you can back me all the way and finish this.

Well, it looks like the savage has won the day.

But the day's not over yet.

Come here, you.

There she is.

Murdering fucking whore! Come on!

Come on!

Shit. They're coming inside.

- Well, what'll it be then? - Well, come on, girls!

Fucking...

Daddy.

Oi!

Rose.

Come on, Rose. I've got you.

I've got you. Come on. Come on.

Come on.

Your kings are dead.

You are a disgrace to the Elephant name.

Take your wounded back home with this message.

The Forty Elephants have risen.

I am queen.

Now fuck off!

If we live, we live for the Lord.

And if we die,

we die for the Lord.

In a time where life hangs in the balance,

it can be difficult to find solace.

But it can be found

when we understand the nature of God.

Oh, come on. We don't need your God.

She's a fighter.

She's gonna live.

The House of God is always open to you, Mr Goodson.

For we are all His children.

Oh, no one asked you to come, you fucking ghoul.

- I, uh, understand you're angry... - I'm sorry, Father. I'll show you out.

You're bleeding.

It's nothing.

How is she?

She'll survive.

So are you still planning to go back to Jamaica?

I have something that keeps me here a lickle longer.

What kind of something?

Business.

Well, talking of business, I could do with some of your rooms.

You should go back to Elephant and Castle.

I don't feel at home south of the river.

- A queen with no palace? - A boxer with no ring.

A man and a woman with no kind words to say to each other.

You can take rooms at the Green Dolphin.

But me no want no trouble.

That all?

That's all.

Mary.

I received word that the Jeremys marched on Wapping Wall,

and you came out on top.

No thanks to you.

You don't know what you're talking about.

You knew they were coming and you didn't warn me.

I tried, but there wasn't time.

I don't think you did.

What would I have to gain from having my daughter killed?

To kill a creature that crawled out of you and ruined you. I don't know.

I don't know what goes through your head.

I built the Forty Elephants,

wretched women who found means to survive in a world that hated us.

I had to make sure we survived, even if it meant putting you in harm's way.

You had to show them that you were worthy of the crown you now wear.

Why are you saying all this?

Because my days are numbered.

There is a growth inside my belly.

Another face-saving lie.

No.

You can feel it.

A notch.

It's a strange thing.

Very strange.

But I've gotten what I wanted.

You are queen again.

Stronger than ever.

I will die happy.

You always looked to me for something I can't give.

I gave you something much more precious instead.

I gave you the tools to survive.

I gave you a family.

Don't you see it?

"Abstain from biting your lips or putting your tongue between your teeth.

Very serious accidents may occur from doing so.

The mouth is to be firmly closed…"

Good afternoon, Mr Moscow.

Good afternoon.

Your Royal Highness.

Mr Moscow.

I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to today's session.

Have you been boxing, Mr Moscow?

You could say that.

An unsanctioned bout.

Right. Well,

I won't enquire further.

We're not going to box today.

We're going to talk.

All right.

And… what is it that we'll be talking about?

The man you will be facing

and the fundamental question.

Why do you want to fight, Your Royal Highness?

It is a vendetta.

I want satisfaction.

A petty grudge?

No, no.

Look, you might not understand.

But as an English Royal, I am bound by an ancient code of honour.

Then tell me.

I was a naval cadet for three years.

Now, you might assume that someone of my standing would be shielded

from the brutish mess deck culture, yes?

But you'd be wrong.

There was an older boy.

Well, he made my life a living nightmare.

But I am a man now.

And one day, I shall be king.

And when I finally beat him,

I shall be worthy.

There are plenty, plenty trainers at West London Boxing Club

better suited to this type of fight.

No, but you're different.

I wasn't talking about your skin colour. I-I-I meant your style.

It's evidently different, the fruits of it.

I don't follow.

Look, I want the best trainer.

I want someone with that deadly touch.

What?

Boxing

is an art and a science.

One thing it is not is the pursuit of another man's death.

And I hope I'm clear.

Yeah.

And if you want to talk about killing,

look closer to home, hmm?

Look around you and remember where all of this came from.

Listen here. I am more than aware

of the blood that has been spilt on my family's behalf.

But what I can do about it is another matter entirely.

One thing I can do, Mr Moscow, is have you train me.

That way I will surely win.

And then you will get your reward.

Wait. Hezekiah.

Hezekiah.

Hezekiah.

I know the arrangement is unjust, but I encourage you to continue with it.

Why should I let an English Royal dangle stolen land in front of me?

- No... - He thinks I'm a savage…

- No. - …and he wants to learn my ways.

So how low do you want me to stoop, Lady Victoria?

How low?

My family and I are the beneficiaries of the queen's kindness.

Yet she claims my homeland as hers.

And whilst I see the hypocrisy, I…

I also understand my position.

It tells me that for all that is wrong with my life, it is better for me to stay.

Or maybe you've been lying to yourself this entire time.

I imagine your recollection of the Buster Williams fight is tainted.

But for me, I saw someone in total command of their art.

Grace, poise, elegance,

and the most profound dignity in the face of a hostile crowd,

a hostile country.

I hope you know that this arrangement was never solely about land and boxing.

I hope you know that.

You can tell His Royal Highness that I will continue to train him.

But not here.

He can come to Wapping,

if he dare.

I want to shatter his delusions.

I want him to see men fighting, not for honour,

but for their next meal.

Only then can he understand.

Jane's sick.

She's dying.

It was gonna happen one day.

She deserves what's coming to her.

Hey, you let God be the judge.

Be thankful for what your mother leaves you with.

"Mother".

We're talking a woman who loves stray birds more than me.

She stuck me in a workhouse because she saw my father in my eyes.

You coming with me to Wapping Wall

or are you just gonna sit here all day and enquire into my emotions?

We got a lot to celebrate.

I can't come with you.

I'm queen again, and I need my Eliza.

Oh, Mary.

I'll always be loyal to you.

But the women in the factory, they need me.

You're choosing working women over your Elephants?

Well, we're all working women.

In the cold light of day, what's the difference really?

Don't hate me.

I could never hate you.

Come on.

You've got to be strong.

Go find Verity.

You're gonna need her.

And you'll be fine,

Queen Mary.

Hey.

Morning, sir.

Is that him?

Is that Charles Duval?

It is.

At least something good came of this street battle.

What about the dynamite?

We haven't found it yet.

Anarchists, criminals, they're running amok.

This city.

It's on the verge of chaos.

We've launched search operations in all commercial properties

across Wapping Docks.

We're pulling people in for questioning around the clock.

And we've arrested the man that we suspect smuggled Duval in.

A veteran by the name of Jack Mac.

If he knows anything about the dynamite, we'll get it out of him.

Who was it between?

- What? - The street battle.

Those were Elephant and Castle men,

and the Goodsons got wrapped up in it somehow.

Some say the whole thing was puppeteered by Mary Carr.

Are you sure?

A witness heard her declaring herself as queen again,

not just of her women, the whole Elephant gang.

So we have a stash of dynamite unaccounted for,

and a Jezebel running loose,

declaring herself as queen in the same city Her Majesty lives and rules from.

If I were you, I would find that dynamite before Mary Carr does.

I'd like to import a fuck ton of good luck.

Treat yourself to some while you're at it.

Mary.

Oh, she remembers my name at least.

You can't stay long, I'm afraid. I'm very busy.

The chairman is in today.

Oh, I won't keep you too long.

You're not planning on turning the place over, are you?

I'm just here to see how my Verity is getting on in life.

What's the nature of your employment anyway?

Correspondence mainly.

The chairman has American shipments come in to Liverpool.

Look, it's an honest living.

A normal life.

No one wants to kill you here, which makes a change.

I have a salary, 20 quid a year,

I'm off the drink, my kids are looked after,

and it's a satisfying job.

Looks pretty fucking dull from where I'm standing…

…and lonely.

I'm on the straight and narrow, that's what matters.

Verity Ross, you found work in one of the dirtiest businesses

on God's green earth, and you ain't no fucking saint.

So, come on, what's your angle here?

You log a shipment, do a bit of magic, something falls off the back of the ship.

Fuck's sake.

Forty Elephants are back.

A trumpet went over the rooftops.

It went, "We need our Verity Ross back for the biggest of jobs!"

"We need our… …forgerer, forgerer."

Was I the last one you came looking for?

I wasn't gonna come to you unless I had everyone. That's God's honest truth.

Uh, you can find me at The Green Dolphin.

You look good.

Walking back to the scene of your crimes, Mary Carr?

I heard an Elephant civil war unfolded here,

and you've arisen as the victor.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

And I offer you my commiserations.

It seems you're still stuck in the depraved East End,

when you'd much rather be bowing and curtseying in Her Majesty's court.

You always have something in the works. So, what's next for you?

Oh, well, retirement to the countryside with six Great Danes.

I think I know why I rub you up the wrong way.

Oh, do enlighten me.

I proved the old lie is wrong.

That common people were thick and should know their place.

Now, at some point in your life, you realised you'd been told a lie,

but you'd spent a lifetime protecting it,

so your only option is to suppress the truth.

Mary.

You may lack morality and refinement,

but you clearly have an instinct for survival.

Right now, your survival depends on you leaving London.

That's your future.

This, it's just a courtesy call.

Ah. Well, thank you for your concern.

I have done terrible things to protect this country.

And I would do them again.

In a heartbeat.

All I see is a foot soldier.

A man doomed to wander the dead-end streets of Wapping

for all eternity.

That's biblical, that is.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner to attend.

- Well… Yes. - Is your first guess?

- Don't speak of me. I wasn't… - I wasn't…

- I wasn't gonna say… - …gonna say anything bad.

Bloody hell, look who it is!

Verity!

Sit yourself down.

Let me get you a glass.

Actually, no thanks.

Lardy-fucking-dardy, she really did go straight, didn't she?

With the drink, as straight as an arrow.

In my professional work, what do you think?

What a lovely sight this is.

Warms me to see it.

We've had our scraps, we've done our time in the wilderness,

but we are still fucking here.

I'd like to propose a toast.

- Aw. - Verity fucking Ross,

ladies and gentlemen.

She's back in the room.

My apologies for the interruption.

I wasn't expecting quite so many of you.

Ladies, this is Sophie Lyons, a friend from New York.

Make some room.

I don't need pickpockets, sorry.

- Who does she think she is? - The neck.

Well, my father should have told you I don't work in isolation.

I am these women, these women are me.

Well, if you want to cut your friends in and shrink your end,

that's your prerogative.

But the plan remains the same.

Does anyone have a light?

No.

I do.

And what's your name?

Alice.

Alice.

Maybe now's a good time to explain why you sit at this table with us?

There's a dying oil man in New York.

Rich.

And I-I don't mean moneyed, I mean richer than royalty.

He lives out his days in an empty white marble mansion

on a street called 5th Avenue.

There's a painting, and he will have it at any cost.

You fine women will help me procure the work, and you will be rewarded.

It better be a special fucking painting.

Well, it hasn't been seen in three centuries.

I'm talking about the most coveted work in New York high society.

Martha and Mary Magdalene by Caravaggio.

Is… Is that all right with you?

Until recently, no one knew where it was.

But then came a rumour, which became a whisper,

which became a name.

An Englishman by the name of Graften.

I have it on good authority that he is the one in possession of the Caravaggio.

Have you made contact with his friend yet?

As a matter of fact, I have been sitting for Sir Frederick Leighton.

He's painting me.

I put in a word for you.

He'd gladly enjoy your special skills at his soiree,

where Graften will be in attendance.

What exactly are those special fucking skills then?

Perhaps I can perform a demonstration for you. Hmm?

This is my Peacemaker.

I carry it for personal protection.

This is a .45 Colt cartridge.

I'm gonna ask one of you to shoot me.

- What? - Come on. Surely not.

Alice.

I need you to do something important for me.

I need you to shoot me in the heart. Kill me.

You will do it on the count of three.

One, two, three.

The bullet is now in the chamber.

Bra-fucking-vo, Alice finally has something about her.

Yeah, yeah, the bullets are blank.

Bloody hell.

You're a mesmerist.

People crave belonging.

It's like I see holes in their heads.

So, I burrow into them.

Once inside, I have the power.

It's coming down now.

Do you intend to pay custom on that tobacco?

What'd you say?

I said, do you intend to be a good citizen

and pay what's owed on your ill-gotten goods?

And who the fuck are you?

A loyal servant of Her Majesty the Queen.

A minute of your time.

The body of a woman was found not two miles from here.

A whore who drowned in the London docks just days ago.

A rough man came to identify her.

He wept.

It's guilt, I assume.

You can see his name here.

My apologies.

You're not literate, are you?

Well, the name written here says Edward Goodson.

Now, there are some that say Edward is a changed man.

And I have witnesses who claim he was with her on the shore,

quarrelling loudly the night she disappeared.

My brother…

is a good man.

He's a publican and a father.

No one in this city will believe ya.

He will hang for it, Sugar.

Unless I have your full cooperation.

All I want you to do is watch Mary Carr,

where she goes, who she's speaking to, and report your observations to me.

You see, a time will come when she is tried, sentenced, imprisoned in Holloway,

and I will be the one to make sure it's until the end of her natural life.

You're fucking deluded.

I'll be on my way then.

Send my regards to your brother.

Mummy, mummy, mummy!

Oh, my girls, look at you.

You've grown so much.

Marianne.

Mmm. Come on, come on, let's go.

I'm here now.

I'm here now, my sweet, sweet baby.

Mummy.

It's all right, don't worry.

It's all gonna be fine.

I'm here.

What use are you if you can't protect your own children?

Marianne, I let you down. I know. I'm sorry, please. Marianne, please...

The one thing that was different between you and Sugar was that you had a family.

You should have protected her.

Oh, Marianne, please. Just listen to me.

I'm leaving ya and I'm taking them with me.

- Think about what you're doing, Marianne. - You stay out of it.

- Please. Marianne, please, please… - Sarah.

- …please. Please, no. - Sarah.

- No! Please, please. - Sarah, get a few bags together, right?

We're leaving for Dublin, all right? Good girl. Go on now.

Help your sister, Thomas. You'll carry Rosie when we're ready.

I'm not leaving.

You're coming with me and your sisters, and that's the end of it, understand?

I don't want to though. I wanna stay here and help Dad. He… He needs us.

Thomas, you're a good boy with a big heart and a good head.

I'm telling ya, if you stay here, it's only a matter of time,

you'll wind up dead on those cobbles,

or worse, you'll waste away like him or Sugar.

I'm not letting that happen, Thomas.

I'm not leaving, Mum.

Stupid boy. You're a Goodson, all right.

What do you think you're doing?

You're hurting me.

You're many things, Treacle, but I never took you for a wife beater.

Dad.

I'm lost.

- I'm fucking lost. - Hey.

I won't let you down.

Come on.

Come on.

Go on. Get him out.

Waste of fucking time.

No Gods.

No Masters.