All language subtitles for Roots (1977) S01E02 Part II (1080p BluRay HEVC x265 10bit E-AC3 2.0)[DHB]_[und]-engjh

NARRATOR: Last on Roots.

My breakfast bowl is empty now.

-There are goats to be fed.
-Yes, Mother.

-Take care.
-Yes, Father. I will.

Captain Davies, your vessel, sir.

-The Lord Ligonier?
-The same.

She'll be seaworthy
by the end of the month.

-We'll be taking on slaves.
-I see.

Welcome aboard.

(PANTING)

(GASPS)

(WHIMPERING)

(SCREAMING)

MAN: Come on, just get out of there!
Move, you monkeys.

There's no riverbank.

Where is the earth?

The earth is gone.

Captain, sir,
It's time to look over the wenches.

CAPTAIN DAVIES: I'm a Christian man
and I command a Christian ship!

But, Captain, sir--

-I will not lead any men into sin.
-Sin?

Fornication.

Will they come after us, our warriors?

No. There is no trail in the water,
no trail to follow.

Then we are alone.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Come in, Mr. Slater.

Just brought her as a belly-warmer, sir.

Didn't figure it'd be any problem

for a high born, Christian,
white man like you, Sir.

Sleep well.

Oh, merciful heaven.

(CHANTING IN OTHER LANGUAGE)

Mr. Slater, I don't understand
a syllable of their language,

but I believe I can guess
what they're saying down there.

What might that be, sir?

They're telling us
to sleep lightly, Mr. Slater.

(CHANTING CONTINUES)

(THEME SONG PLAYING)

(MEN SOBBING AND GROANING)

We will kill the white man.
And we will go home.

But we're different men.
We can't even talk to each other.

We're different tribes.

Men chained together are brothers.
We are all one village.

Who cannot speak the same words.

Listen, Mandinka.
Those who speak other words.

Words of the Wolof,
of the Serere, the Fulani.

Talk to the man chained to you.

Teach him your words. Learn his.

We will be one village.

(PEOPLE SPEAKING IN OTHER LANGUAGES)

I'm Mandinka.

Do you understand Mandinka?

(PEOPLE CONVERSING IN OTHER LANGUAGES)

(DISTANT CONVERSATIONS)

MR. SLATER: (KNOCKS ON DOOR)
Captain Davies, sir, a word with you?

CAPTAIN DAVIES: Come in, Mr. Slater.

-How did you pass the night, sir?
-(SIGHS)

Restfully, Mr. Slater.

Didn't mean to trouble you, sir,
if you took bad.

Nothing, nothing.

The ague fever.

It's from lying at anchor
in that damn plague-y African river, sir.

What is your concern, Mr. Slater?
Is the wind shifting?

No, sir, it's fair
across the stern quarter.

It's not trimming the sails
that worries me, sir.

I don't like that sound.

Sound?

I don't hear any sound.

Aye, Captain, that'd be the point.

There's a time after they
sort of settle in

and get the idea of the way things goes.

When they get to thinking
maybe three, four weeks longer

they'll be too weak to raise trouble.

Till then, there's a danger of uprising.

-Shackled hand and foot?
-Mark me, Captain.

They're treacherous, murdering beasts.

(GROANS)

I cannot believe
there's a serious risk of uprising.

It's been known, sir.

I mind a time I served
in the king's frigate,

we come on a Baltimore-built slaver.

Its canvas shredded on the yard.
The blacks rose for sure, sir.

Wasn't a white man left alive.

We saw the bodies lashed to the ratlines.

We hanged them by the dozen, sir.

They was a dead loss to their owners,
them niggers.

I... I take your point, Mr. Slater,
I take your point.

Well, then, your orders, Captain?

Can you not strengthen your guard,
Mr. Slater?

-Aye, Captain.
-Surely, armed men in good health

can restrain chained men
in weakened condition.

As to that, Captain,
I put my trust to another advantage.

You see, them heathens never been
in this dodge before and we have.

We know all the tricks to the trade.

(CHUCKLES SOFTLY)

I'm sure you do, Mr. Slater,
I'm sure you do. You may go.

Aye, Captain.

Would you need a belly-warmer again
this evening, Captain?

(LIVELY MUSIC PLAYING)

(CHAINS RATTLING)

(SAILOR 1 GRUNTS)

(MEN LAUGHING)

(GRUNTING)

SAILOR 1: Keep those legs going.
SAILOR 2: Come on, you monkeys.

(PANTING)

SAILOR 1: Come on, you bloody apes.
Keep moving!

(SAILOR 1 GRUNTING)

(WOMAN SHRIEKS)

SAILOR 3: Get back here, you wench.
Come on.

(SHRIEKS)

(SAILORS LAUGHING)

SAILOR 3: Come on back.

Get her, men, get her.

MR. SLATER: Get a rope on that wench!

Jump, damn your eyes! Jump!

SAILOR 3: Get her!

(LAUGHING) Over here.

(WOMAN GASPING)

(SAILORS LAUGHING)

Not now.

(WOMAN WHIMPERING)

MR. SLATER: Get that wench!

Get her down!

(WHIMPERING)

All right, you fool!

(SHOUTING IN OTHER LANGUAGE)

What were her words?

I could not understand.

What was that wench doing untied?

-Nothing, sir.
-Nothing?

I'll have you passed under the keel,
you scum.

We'll see if you say "nothing"

when you come up
your belly ripped on the barnacles.

(SAILOR 3 GRUNTING)

SAILOR 3: Mr. Slater, sir, be fair now.
MR. SLATER: Fair? If it's fair you want--

SAILOR 3: You told us we could have
the pick of the wenches.

"When you work was done." I said.

When the sails was rigged proper
and the decks was shining like a mirror

and we was all in Bristol fashion
from stem to stern.

But I didn't tell you to go
crawling out of your britches...

Fanta Touray?

MR. SLATER: I never told you that,
did I, now?

Fanta?

A Mandinka maiden must have strength.

(MR. SLATER CONTINUES YELLING)

I'm no longer a Mandinka maiden.

(SAILOR 3 GRUNTING)

MR. SLATER: I'll promise you this,

you won't get a farthing
at the end of this voyage!

And I'll have your hide
for the balance of the payment!

SAILOR 3: Mr. Slater,
you ask any of the other men--

MR. SLATER: Keep your britches on!

I don't have to ask
the other men anything!

I know full well what I see!

And I've seen enough to know
I'll keelhaul you

or any other man
who don't do what I tell him to do.

You hear me? You follow--

Allah is Allah.

There is no God but Allah.

(SCREAMING IN OTHER LANGUAGE)

(SLAVES SCREAMING)

(SHOUTS IN PAIN)

Don't damage the cargo! Drive them below!

Drive them below!

Drive them below!

(SHOUTING)

(CHOKING)

Drive them below, can you?

Come on, you damn heathen.

(EXPLOSION)

(ALL SHOUTING)

(ALL GROANING)

(MEN GROANING)

(MEN COUGHING)

(MEN SOBBING)

Allah, the merciful.

(VOICE BREAKING) Allah, the compassionate.

Take this man to paradise.

Let him see Mohammed the prophet.

(SOBS)

Let him taste the joys of the faithful.

Drop anchor!

-Captain Davies, please.
-Aye, aye, sir. This way, please.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

(DOOR OPENS)

(KNOCKS ON DOOR)

CARRINGTON: Captain Davies?

Forgive me, sir.

I've... I've been somewhat poorly.

Welcome aboard the Lord Ligonier.

Mr. Andrews, is it?

(STUTTERING) No, sir. John Carrington.
Your servant, sir.

(COUGHS) Forgive me.

I'd forgotten the natural
effluvium of a slave ship

when not filtered through strong vinegar.

And, sir, I do not comprehend
how you can abide it.

Custom, sir. Custom and avarice.

Ah. (LAUGHS)

Yes, sir.

My instructions were

that Mr. Andrews
represented the owner's interest.

No, sir. I am factor
for Horace Andrews and Company.

And Mr. Andrews is at present
in Williamsburg, in Virginia.

Public day, sir.
The House of Burgesses is in session.

And, for those who have the ear
of the Royal Governor, land grants.

-Chair, Mr. Carrington.
-Why, thank you.

(SIGHS)

Did you have a good voyage, Captain?

My first officer is dead.

Ten seamen and the ship's boy,
more than a third of my crew.

Well, God rest their souls, sir.

But the lifeblood of commerce
is goods, sir. Goods!

How fares your cargo
through the passage, Captain?

3,000 elephant teeth
have survived the voyage.

(LAUGHING)

You are a pretty wit, sir. A pretty wit.

Elephant teeth, indeed. (LAUGHING)

140 Negroes
were loaded aboard Lord Ligonier

in the mouth of the Gambia River.

Ah. Loose pack. Mmm. Well?

Of those, 98 were alive when we made port.

Ninety-eight? Oh, less than a third dead.

I have known slavers to make port

with less than half surviving
and still show a handsome profit.

-My felicitations, Captain.
-How soon can I unload?

Directly, we warp your vessel
to the wharf.

I want you to secure for me
flowers of sulfur to burn in the hold.

-I wish to see my ship clean again.
-Oh, and naturally, sir.

After all, you'll be carrying tobacco
to London.

And in London?

Trade goods for the Guinea coast
and then on to the Gambia River.

-And more slaves.
-Indeed, sir.

Thus does heaven smile upon us
point to point in a golden triangle.

Tobacco, trade goods, slaves.

Tobacco, trade goods
and so on, ad infinitum.

All profit, sir,
and none the loser for it.

Tell me, Mr. Carrington,
do you ever wonder?

On what topic, sir? To what end?

As to whether or not
we are just as much imprisoned

as are those chained in the hold below?

I do not follow your meaning, sir.

It sometimes feels

that we do harm to ourselves
by taking part in this endeavor.

Harm?

What harm can there be in prosperity, sir?

What harm is a full purse,
I'd like to know?

No. No.

I doubt that you'd like to know,
Mr. Carrington.

I doubt that either of us
would truly like to know.

Would you be interested
in coming to the auction, Captain?

I warrant, you've never seen
anything like it.

No, I am sure I have not, Mr. Carrington.

I do know that I am not interested
in seeing it now.

Or ever.

(MAN HUMMING)

(MAN SINGING)

(MAN HUMMING)

Well, well, well, well.
Now, what have we here, huh?

(CONTINUES HUMMING)

Easy, fella.

My God, I have a hard enough task
mending three months on a slaver

without new whip weals to salve.

Bench marks again.

This fellow's bones are showing through.

-Is it festered?
-Not more than usual, sir.

Laudable pus. Merely laudable pus.

Ha'penny's worth of tar
and he'll be fit for your auction.

Tar.

(SCREAMING)

(GRUNTING LOUDLY)

Will they be ready for auction
on the 7th of October?

There's a horserace meet then.

And I would take advantage
of the attraction.

Coat them with oil. Flaxseed oil
covers a multitude of skins, eh?

(CHUCKLES)

You give the wild-eyed ones
a dose of laudanum,

and the dull ones a dollop of brandy

-and may the buyer beware.
-(BOTH CHUCKLE)

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

-You sent for me, Mr. Carrington?
-Oh, oh. Yes, sir. Uh...

Here is the text
for an advertisement I wish to place.

"Just imported in the ship
Lord Ligonier, Captain Davies,

"from the River Gambia,
to be sold in Annapolis

"for cash or good bills of exchange
on Wednesday, the 7th of October next,

"a cargo of choice, healthy slaves."

I'll put "slaves" in big type, sir.
Catches the eye.

Yes, yes. And, uh, I shall also...

Oh, and I shall want handbills. Broadsides
to pass out at the race meeting.

There is a bit of a poser,
sir, broadsides.

How so, Master McAlmon?

These are busy times
in the printing trade, sir.

Especially, handbills. Just politics.
Politics, politics, politics.

We have Burgess Patrick Henry's speech
in the Virginia Colony.

Correspondence from Boston.

There's the new Townshend Taxes.

They're more bother than
the old Stamp Act in '65.

I am with Burgess Henry and the rest
in my passion for liberty,

but business, sir, is business.

I will pay hard money in advance
for my handbills.

(SOBBING)

(SOBBING CONTINUES)

Fanta.

Is it the same, you think?

Is what the same?

The moon.

Is it the same we see in our land?

KUNTA: I do not think so.

Nothing here is the same.

The people, the food,
the animals, the trees.

I do not see
why the moon should be the same.

Good.

Why does that matter to you?

I would hate to think

my mother and little brother
can see that moon,

but cannot see me.

That would make them seem closer, I think.

Being close and not touching

is like eating and not swallowing.

We will beat them.

-You'll see.
-(SCOFFS)

You can say those things.

A warrior is taught to say such things.

A warrior is taught to fight.

Your father would say that I am right.

And where is my father now?

No.

Since we were taken from our homes,
I have learned another lesson.

What lesson?

I have learned to stay alive.

(WOMAN CONTINUES SOBBING)

CARRINGTON: We were to meet here,
by the auction block.

Ah. There he is.

MAN 1: Up to now,
I worked my place myself.

But I cleared two new fields.

And I reckon if I could find me
a likely nigger or two

I'd maybe put up a hogshead
of tobacco besides the corn and beans.

Crab cakes!

Crab cakes? Crab cakes?

MAN 2: He only paid
20 pounds for the wench

and she was nearly four months showing.

And then if she didn't
take the pox and die.

I told him if he bought a cow

at least he'd have the hide and tallow!
(LAUGHS)

They're a no-account bunch.

(CHUCKLES) They gets them all greased up,
think they're trying to fool somebody.

Trying to grab any one
of them niggers in there

be like trying to pinch a watermelon seed.

Squirt right on out from you.

Master Reynolds might want one of them,
maybe. I doubt it.

Come on, let's go see if there's any women
worth his purse here.

When I was a lad,
we had indentured bondservants.

-Stout Cornishmen and Scotsmen.
-Scourings of Newgate Prison, they were.

Pickpockets and highwaymen.

Indeed, sir, indeed.

And if one of them runs away, you couldn't
tell him from any other Englishman.

But take a black slave, sir,
by hairy, no matter how far they run,

they're always black.

MAN: Some are prime-looking, Fiddler.

Oh, no, Master Reynolds don't act
like that. Not regular at least.

Sometimes on Christmas or on his birthday.

But he don't buy with
night-wrestling in mind, see. (CHUCKLES)

(AUCTIONEER SHOUTS)

(DRUM PLAYING)

AUCTIONEER: Gentlemen, gentlemen,
your attention, I beg you.

As advertised, we have
a fine cargo of choice, healthy slaves

recently landed by the Lord Ligonier,
largely from the River Gambia.

They've made a fine passage
and are in prime healthy condition.

We have spry young bucks,
warranted sound of limb and tooth.

Tractable, free of colics and heaves.

And wenches!

Fine, strapping wenches of an age
for breeding or field work.

Terms of trade,
for cash or good bills of exchange

from gentlemen known to me
or Mr. Carrington.

I'll ask that you bid quickly

in that we have a rather large
inventory of likely servants to offer.

Now, thank you, Marcus,

if you'll get the first
fine batch up here.

-MARCUS: Careful! Careful!
-( WOMEN SCREAMING)

We don't need more damaged goods now.

All right, first lot.
Get them out. Get them out.

The gentlemen are waiting. Out!

(WOMEN CONTINUE SCREAMING)

-(WHIMPERS)
-Come on, wench!

AUCTIONEER: Wenches, gentlemen,
first to whet your appetites as it were.

Those desiring to inspect the items
being offered for defects or blemishes

please step forward at your pleasure.

Calling your attention to the first item
being offered for sale.

Now, she's a fine black pearl,
indeed, gentlemen.

She's in fine condition.

She made the entire trip above decks,
like a fine lady.

You'll find no marks.

She's young, she's supple, she's strong.

Posture, boy, posture.

Use her to wash, to weave,
to plow, to sow what you will.

A good investment, gentlemen.

Put her to it and she'll raise you
a fine litter of pickaninnies.

That's enough. That's enough.

But, as the whore said,
turning from bottle to bed,

"Enough of pleasure. To work!"

(MEN LAUGHING)

It's time to proceed, gentlemen.

Time to stop the looking
and start the bidding.

Who'll offer me 100 pounds
for this fine wench? Do I hear 100 pounds?

Do I hear 100 pounds?

We'll start at 50.
Ooh, I have 50 over here...

(AUCTIONEER CHANTING)

I've got 60 over here.
Who'll give me a 65?

(AUCTIONEER CHANTING)

Sixty-five. Do I hear 707?

Who will give me 80? 80 over here.

Ninety over here. 90...

One hundred fifteen?

One hundred fifteen once,

twice,

sold to Robert Calvert of Virginia.

One hundred fifteen pounds.

A very shrewd purchase, Sir Robert.
My felicitations, sir.

My pleasure, sir. And I anticipate
she will be my pleasure, sir.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

AUCTIONEER: Now, calling your attention
to the next item offered.

A wench sound of wind and body.
Who'll start the bidding--

We will see each other again, Fanta.

We will.

We will.

MAN 1: Hmm. Good lines to that one.

MAN 2: Look at his eyes.

He's not even close to being broken.

(CHILDREN CHUCKLING)

AUCTIONEER: Now, here's a likely
looking hand, a prime young buck

Just picked from the trees.
Bright as a monkey.

Good bones, sinew.
Warranted free of defect. Good teeth.

Good for Carolina rice,
Virginia tobacco or Maryland corn.

Pull like an ox and carry like a mule.

Step up, see for yourselves, gentlemen.

He's free of heaves, piles, French pox.

He's young, biddable.
A fine animal, gentlemen.

I'm going to start the bidding at 150.

There's no need to waste time.
He's the pick of the herd, gentlemen.

You won't find his like
in these degenerate days.

Who'll give me 1507?

(AUCTIONEER CHANTING)

All right.

One twenty-five. Gentlemen, gentlemen.

I sold a buck half of this for 200 guineas
a fortnight ago in Baltimore.

Now, who'll start me at 125?

(AUCTIONEER CHANTING)

One thirty.

One thirty-five.

One forty.

One forty-five.

One forty-five.

One forty-five. This fine young buck.

One fifty, Sir Robert.

One fifty-five.

Do I hear 160? Sir Robert?

Put this buck to the wench
you just bought.

Stock your plantation in Virginia.

All right, one fifty-five.

60.

160.

One fifty-five, once.

Twice.

Sold! Your name, sir?

Reynolds!

John Reynolds.
Spotsylvania County, Virginia.

Lot four, number three.

Mr. John Reynolds.

Spotsylvania County of Virginia

155 pounds.

There you are, sir, your bill of sale,

all sealed and legal

with the Lord Townshend's
damn stamps affixed. Intolerable.

Cost you ten shillings
to convey your own property to you.

You Virginia hotheads
have the truth of it.

Damn perilous state our liberties
have fallen to

when the lords of trade in London can
interfere with our own ordinary commerce.

I, uh, don't dabble in politics,
Mr. Carrington.

I have enough trouble raising my tobacco.

Yes, sir. Well, there he is.

For 10 shillings
I can throw in the manacles.

I think the collar and chain
should be sufficient.

No manacles.

MR. REYNOLDS: Well, now,
we'll have to give him a name.

-Let's see.
-Did you fancy the classics, sir?

"Tis all the fashion here on
the bay to have Psyches

and Caesars and Hectors
running about the place.

A whole pantheon of nymphs and satyrs.
A delightful conceit.

I like good, plain, solid English
names for my servants.

Fiddler, do we have a George?

Yes, sir. There's Sukey's George,
born last planting time.

Oh. Well, then. Hmm...

Toby. Yes.

His name shall be Toby.
Oh, and Mr. Carrington?

-Sir?
-You're not dealing with a child, sir.

I do not take your meaning, sir.

My meaning is to be found in that
carbuncle on black Toby's back over there.

I expect it to be lanced
before he's loaded onto my wagon.

I hadn't noticed it before, sir.

Probably because it was
covered with pine tar. Somehow.

I shall fetch the doctor right away, sir.

-MR. REYNOLDS: Fiddler.
-(CHUCKLES SOFTLY)

Now, don't you make no trouble, now.

Ain't going to hurt you.

You just stay quiet now.

You belong to Master Reynolds, now.
That's all there is to it.

You ain't no more in Africa, Guinea man.

Now you listen to old Fiddler
if you want to keep live.

You in America now.

You hear me talking, nigger?
You in Americal

Oh, poor African boy.

You don't know what
I be saying nohow, huh?

MAN: Look out, we got a loose one!

(PEOPLE SHOUTING)

If he's killed,
I'll want two in his place.

Get him!

Mind it, now!

(SHOUTING CONTINUES)

FIDDLER: Gentlemen, gentlemen! Gentlemens.

Pardon me, gentlemen. (CHUCKLES SOFTLY)

-FIDDLER: Now, hold still.
-(TOOL BANGING)

Hold still, now.

Come on now. Get yourself over there.

That's it.

Here, stay put now.

Damn it! I said hold still.
Ain't you got no brains at all?

You do what I say
or it's gonna go hard with you.

You move once more and old Fiddler's
gonna reach in

and pull your behind
out through your nose.

(HORSE SNORTING)

Master Reynolds, you sure this old horse
couldn't make it back home without a shoe?

MR. REYNOLDS: That beast is property,
Fiddler.

A wise man takes very good care of his
horses and slaves if he wishes to prosper.

Never thought about it like that.

It's a smart way, for sure.

That's how come you never have
no runaways off in your place.

You know what Mr. Ames says.
He says it's because of the whip.

Well now, Mr. Ames,
he's a different sort of man.

-Fiddler.
-Yes, sir?

Pick up the mallet
and put it in the toolbox.

Guinea man, what you got in your head?

What you thinking about?

Want me to give him a stripe or two, boss?

No, I don't think so.

Might be a problem.
He's always looking around.

-He ain't never relaxed.
-(HORSE GRUNTS)

-REYNOLDS: Fiddler?
-Yes.

You do recall, you were the one who

told me that he was
the best one of the lot.

You do recall that, don't you?

-Did I say that?
-You did.

I don't rightly recollect saying--

I'm saying that from now on,
that black is your responsibility.

If he acts up in any way,
I'll hold you responsible.

You take my meaning, Fiddler?

You mean I...

I gets to turn this here Guinea man
into a proper field hand?

Is that what you talking about?

A proper field hand who speaks
and understands the King's English

and does exactly as he's told.

As a matter of fact, I'll give you, uh,
six months until my birthday

for you to accomplish that.

Master Reynolds, I don't quite know
how to thank you.

You sure know how
to make my day happy, Master Reynolds.

Yes, sir, your pleasure, for sure.

Just do as I say, Fiddler.

That's all the thanks I expect
from any of my niggers.

Oh, I love you, Master Reynolds.

I'm, uh, riding ahead to Campbell's Inn
to get me a tankard of ale.

You catch up with me
just as soon as that horse is shoed.

Oh, Master,

you gonna leave me a paper saying
that you give permission

for old Fiddler to be out here,
with this here Guinea man?

'Cause if any white folks come by
and see us out here by ourselves,

they're just liable to up and
take us for runaways.

Oh, yes, yes, yes.
Sure they would, wouldn't they?

So I wouldn't take too much time shoeing
that horse if I were you. (CHUCKLES)

Yes, sir. (CHUCKLES)

"Wouldn't take too long
shoeing that horse if I were you."

Wouldn't take too long?

I'd right enough say
I wouldn't take too long.

You hear Master, Toby Guinea man?

You hear him tell old Fiddler

about making you into some
righteous sort of field hand?

Lord, you don't even know your name.

First lesson!

You Toby, and I's Fiddler.

And I'll rip your black hide
if you don't do what I say.

You don't know where you going.
You don't know about hoeing no tobacco.

You don't know about no
Mr. Ames with no whip.

You don't know how to talk, either.
Get on up in there.

Go on.

You on a wagon.

This is a wagon.

You say "wagon."

You say "wagon."

Waguh.

Good, Guinea man!

Now, Master give you a new name, too.
Master say you named Toby.

That's who you is, hear? Toby.

I's Fiddler. Fiddler.

Fiddler. 'Cause I plays
for the Christmas and the Jubilee.

Sara's Fiddler. That's me!

Now you say "Toby."

-Kunta. Kunta Kinte.
-Oh, no, that's your African name.

Master give you a new name.
Master say you named Toby!

Hey, what's the matter with you?
Turn me loose.

Kunta Kinte.

You Africans all alike. Crazy!

Master says your name is Toby.
That's who you is!

He owns you.

He can do anything he wants with you.
Ain't nothing you can do about it!

I've been scratching and scrambling
most of my days to get where I got.

Now, I eats in the big house kitchen.

I got pine boards on the floor
in my cabin.

And it don't take much coughing

for the master to make me have
a cup of corn whiskey for my medicine.

Now, that is fine living for a nigger
and I'll be damned

if any African Guinea man is gonna make me
lose all I've been working for.

Now, you take my meaning?

He don't speak
the King's English, Fiddler.

You better learn.

You Toby. You best learn or you're
gonna get the bloody back for sure.

And me too, maybe.

Get up now!

(URGING HORSE)

(DOGS BARKING)

(MAN WHISTLES)

There it is, old African.

Master Reynolds' land. (CHUCKLES)

Them's his niggers.

This is home!

Get up there, boy!

(REYNOLDS SIGHS)

Hello!

-(LAUGHING)
-Papa! Papa!

Hello, sweetheart.

-Papa what did you bring me?
-MR. REYNOLDS: Ah.

Hup, hup, hup.

Say, Fiddler, what'd you bring us?

Hold on. Hold on, now.
I'll be right there.

Let me get down. (GRUNTS)

Now.

I done stole a whole sugar loaf
from the white folks' table at Annapolis.

Now you equals up
and shares it around, now, hear?

-John, what about my music?
-(ALL CONTINUE SPEAKING)

Now, wait a minute! Wait a minute!
Wait a minute!

One, one at a time.

I have surprises for all of my ladies.

However, there are no stays

-and no music from London.
-Oh!

-And no ribbons.
-Why not?

-Oh.
-John, why ever not?

It's politics. Just damn politics!
That's all it is.

-John, your language!
-Well, it's the truth.

(STUTTERING) The merchants
will not import British products

as a protest of the duties
on glass and tea and the likes.

Oh, John, it's ever so unfair

-to the girls.
-However,

-I do have some stays...
-(GIRLS SQUEALING)

...and I do have some ribbons

and I do have some music,
printed in Boston.

Right over here.

Everybody gonna get some.
Now, come here, let me show you something.

This here is a Guinea man. African!

They catch him
running through the woods in Guinea.

Master Reynolds bought him
right off the ship.

You keep away from him, now.
‘Cause he a wild African!

Oh, yeah, he a bobcat, for sure!

(CHUCKLES)

Now, some of you ain't never seen
no African niggers before.

So you just listen to old Fiddler, now.

This here Guinea man
don't know English talk.

So I'll be the one teaching him
what it is he got to know.

Come on, boy. Up. Come on.

Here, this way.

MRS. REYNOLDS: John, it's fabulous!
GIRL: I'm going to try a bow.

Welcome back home, Mr. Reynolds.
Good to see you, sir.

Oh, Ames.

Uh, would you excuse us, my dear,
while I have some words with Mr. Ames?

Some brandy might, uh...
Might help cut the dust.

-A new foal to show you, sir.
-Oh, good. Good.

I have something to tell you, too.

-What's tobacco, sir?
-Ah!

Six pounds a hundredweight on the wharf.

-Down a shilling.
-Aye.

These are hard times for small farmers.

Oh, I have some new seed
for the spring planting.

Cotton.

Egyptian. Long staple.
Came highly recommended by Mr. Wylie.

Easy for them to say.

They've slaves to spare
to clean the cotton.

I'll stick to tobacco.

Well, you may be right,

but, uh, but we'll try the small field
for cotton. An experiment.

If you say so, you know best.

Also, I bought a hand at auction.

-Straight from the ship?
-Yes.

-I'll put him in the books as a half-hand.
-"Half-hand"? (CHUCKLES)

He's a strong one.

Seventeen, 18-year-old
by the look of the teeth.

Surely he's a full hand, Mr. Ames.

Mr. Reynolds, I've had experience
with niggers fresh from the trees.

And you can't get no more work
from them than a wench

seven, eight months pregnant.

That's why I'll put him down as
half a hand till I got him broke.

Of course, you may be right, Mr. Ames.

All the same,
I've set Fiddler to do the breaking.

-Fiddler?
-Aye.

Sir, there's a craft to breaking
a wild nigger, same as a horse.

One horse don't break another.

Fiddler will be in charge
of that nigger until I say otherwise.

As I said, sir. You know best.

(HORSE GRUNTS)

MR. REYNOLDS: Mr. Ames,
uh, when it's time for gelding,

make certain my daughters are not about.

Aye.

FIDDLER: Don't go away, African.
Fiddler's coming.

Hey, you. Toby.

Brung you vittles.

Here.

Here.

Sure hope you learn fast

so I don't have to keep bringing
your vittles down here.

Then you can eat in the cook house.
Take them chains off you.

(GRUNTS)

Things start looking better
once you stop being African.

Start being nigger like the rest of us.

Go on, boy. Them prime grits there.

Can you say "grits"? Say "grits."

(SNICKERING)

Dummy.

Here, I made sure old Rachel dipped you
up a good piece of pork fat. (SIGHS)

-Here.
-Hmm?

Yeah, yeah, that's good, boy. That's pork.

Can you say "pork"?

Poke.

Pigs. You know... (IMITATES PIG)

(EXCLAIMS)

Oh-oh. You must be one of them Guinea men
who don't like pig meat. That it?

Well, you could have told me,
couldn't you?

No. I guess you couldn't have told me.

Don't make sense.

Believing that Jesus don't like
ribs and fatback.

You better be eating
all them grits, dummy,

‘cause there ain't no more
coming your way tonight.

Grits.

Oh.

Good boy. Good night, Toby.

Dummy.

Grits, dummy.

I'm gonna allow that you just
making sounds and ain't talking words,

‘cause if you call old Fiddler a dummy,

I'd like as not feed you to them hogs.

They ain't as choosy as you is
about what they eat.

(DOOR CLOSES)

-Fiddler.
-Mr. Ames. Evening to you, sir.

-Enjoy your trip to Annapolis?
-Oh, yes, sir.

Fine trip, sir.

Mr. Reynolds told me about
the arrangement you made with him.

Yes, sir.

Interesting arrangement.

Good night, Fiddler.

Good night to you, Mr. Ames, sir.

Mr. Reynolds owns you,

Fiddler is going to teach you,

but sooner or later, nigger, you're mine.

(CRICKET CHIRPING)

(CHIRPING STOPS)

(SPEAKING OTHER LANGUAGE)

KUNTA: (TRANSLATED)
Listen to me. Do you hear me?

I am Kunta Kinte, son of Omoro.

Listen, little brother cricket.

Go to the village of Juffureh
and say to Omoro

and my mother Binta

and my grandmother, Nyo Boto.

Tell them I have been taken
across a great river

with no shores
to the land of the white man.

Tell them I see men and women here
of the Fulani tribe

the Wolof tribe, the Hausa tribe.

But they have all forgotten Allah.

Tell them I'll never be like them.

I will escape from this place.

I am a Mandinka warrior, and I will do it.

Tell them I am alive,
and will not forget them.

And tell them, do not forget me.

Do you hear me, little brother?

(CRICKET CHIRPING)

(PLAYING PIANO)

-(PLAYS WRONG NOTE)
(BOTH LAUGH)

Try again, you're doing very well!

MR. REYNOLDS: No, Ames.

You've been around their stink
all the livelong day.

I can't see how you can believe
they're anything more than bright monkeys.

With all due respect, sir,
I believe you underestimate them.

Oh, I underestimate them, do 1?

Well, let me tell you something.

I've been working blacks
ever since I first took up this land.

AMES: Aye, sir, but you're not right out
with them the way an overseer is.

And I've heard people say it,
they said it before

that your nigger, by nature,
is suited to being a slave.

But you take my word for it, sir,
itisn't true.

Are you trying to tell me that
you do not believe

in the natural ability of the white man
to dominate the black?

That's correct, sir.

Slaves aren't born. They're made.

(CHUCKLES)

I mean you no offense, Ames,

but you yourself told me
that you started out as a bound boy

on the Tidewater, seven years servitude.

AMES: Aye, bound I was,

driven to the field with a cuff
and a curse, same as them.

But at the end of seven years, I was free.

Now, you take one of your hands here.

Seven years from now he'll still be black,
he'll still be a slave!

Because it's fear,

and the whip to rub it in,
that's what makes a slave.

(CHUCKLES) No.

Brother William, what say you?

We're at loggerheads here, Ames and I.

We need a third vote
to break the deadlock. (CHUCKLES)

Well, I'm not so arrogant as
to challenge a man at his own specialty.

However, Ames spends more time with blacks
than he does with whites.

Stands to reason
that he knows them very well.

John, I don't mean to intrude, but--

You're not intruding, my love. What is it?

Well, the blacks are inferior to us.

They have much less intelligence,

and they are incapable of learning all

but the most basic of concepts. Yes?

Yes, most hold to that, my dear.

Well, then why should we be
afraid to teach them?

(CLEARS THROAT)

If they are incapable of learning,

then how can it be a crime
to teach them to read?

And if they can be taught to read,
then they must be capable of learning.

I'm sure I've overlooked something.
I just don't understand.

(CLEARS THROAT)

(CHUCKLES)

Do you know I've seen bears
taught to dance, too?

But I never thought it a graceful sight.
Surely not a natural one.

Then you think they can be taught to read?

Yes.

Probably, in the most rudimentary fashion,
but that's where the danger lies.

You see, my dear, a slave is ignorant.

I mean, he eats and drinks,
and sleeps, and labors and is happy.

Now, if we allow him to learn to read,
he begins to think, then reflect.

Then he becomes most unhappy, miserable.

No, no, no. They have a simple spirit,

and I think we serve them best
by making our demands ever like nature.

Well said, William. Very well said.

Do you think they... They have feelings?
I mean, like we do?

Well, I think they have needs
and hungers and passions.

But no, not precisely as we do.

Needs and hungers and passions?

My, such talk, and from a doctor, too.

(CHUCKLES)
Well, a doctor's best medicine is an

open, honest relationship
with his patient,

and I was just giving you
an honest answer.

Now that's enough, you two. Enough.

My brother has a way
with children and ladies.

(STUTTERING) And I envy him, the gift.

AMES: Aye, and has some fancy theories.

I'd like to show him life in the raw.

Like that hand you bought
four months back off the slaver.

The one you gave Fiddler to break.

Toby? How is he doing, Mr. Ames?

Only two more months before my birthday.

Well, Fiddler's doing his best.

But he's still in chains,
if that answers your question.

Still in chains after four months?

John, that's not usual, is it?

(SIGHS) Well, he's not usual, my dear.

No, he's not like
one of your niggers born here.

Knowing only slavery.

He's freeborn. That's dangerous.

But you know, he's a smart nigger.

Still won't answer to Toby.

You contradict yourself, Ames,

if he's too slow to learn his own name.

No, Doctor, he knows his own name.

It's the new name we gave him
he doesn't want to answer to.

There's a difference.

FIDDLER: Hey, Mary!

Hi! Afternoon, Fiddler.

How's Sara?

-She be right enough, I reckon.
-Ah.

-Cooking in the big house.
-Oh.

Doing right enough by Master Reynolds,

judging from the size
his belly's getting to.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

He gets any bigger,

he ain't gonna be able to see
his business no more.

(BOTH LAUGH)

No point in looking at a business

if there ain't nobody
interested in buying.

(ALL LAUGH)

You're a terrible man!

-That's right.
-Ain't it the truth?

-That's right.
-(LAUGHING)

(ALL CHUCKLE)

Here, let me give you a hand
with that, then.

Here you go.

Fanta.

Fanta!

You hear what that African say, Mama?

He call me "Fanta." That African talk?

Never you mind what kind of talk that is.
You just leave that boy be.

I ain't do nothin' to him, Fiddler.

He was the one start talking to me first.

Here.

Come along now.

Let's get back to them vegetable garden
before Mr. Ames come lookin' for you.

Come on.

Come on.

(CHAINS RATTLING)

-Fiddler.
-Let's get on up back here now.

Fiddler.

You and me run, maybe?

What you say?

You and me go away from here.

We ain't gonna run nowhere.
‘Cause there's no place to run to, boy!

This land ain't got no place for us

except where we be right now! You hear?

Besides,

it's so nice this time of year.

Me and you ain't gonna go no place
till snow come.

What's snow, Fiddler?

Never you mind, boy. Never you mind.

Let's get on back to home. (CLEARS THROAT)

I've got enough trouble teaching you

the difference between
"manure" and "master."

‘Cause there ain't
all that much difference

when it gets right down to it.

Giddap!

(FIDDLER AND KUNTA SINGING)

(FIDDLER HUMMING)

(MAN SINGING)

(OTHERS VOCALIZING IN RESPONSE)

(CRYING)

AMES: Toby!

Get up, Toby.

Damn it, boy!
If you don't understand my meaning,

I got a dictionary in the
butt end of this whip

that'll make my meaning clear.

You do what Mr. Ames says now, Toby.

AMES: I didn't request any help
from you, Fiddler.

Yes, sir, Mr. Ames,
that's a fact for sure,

-but, but you see, Toby here, he--
-AMES: "Toby here."

You been teaching him so mighty fine
he doesn't even answer to his name.

(CHUCKLES) Well, sir, you see,
these here African Guinea men,

when they hears a loud voice,

sometimes they just ups and freezes
like a baby quail, don't you know--

You trying to tell me I shouldn't be
shouting at your nigger?

Is that what you're trying to say?

Oh, no, Mr. Ames! He, he ain't my nigger.

He's rightly Master Reynolds' nigger.

Though he did give him to me
to teach up like he told me.

All right. Fiddler, you go over to Toby,
you get him on his feet,

you get him to working,
or I'll cut up the both of you!

-Oh, yes, sir--
-Right now!

Yes, sir, Mr. Ames, right away, boss.

Get yourself up, and get to work.
Right now.

Got him up and working, boss,
just like you told me.

Mr. Ames?

I'm doing my best, sir.

(FIDDLER SINGING)

(DOG BARKING)

(FIDDLER HUMMING)

You ain't got to be scared.

You talks good enough to talk back to me,
I heard you.

Plenty of times.

What you doing in here, Aurelia?

Trying to talk to him, that's all.

Well, he African. You can't talk to him.

Well, he talked to me, that's for sure.

Called me that word again. Fanta.

Oh, there was a girl back there
in the holding pen with him at Annapolis.

She come with him from Africa.

That'd be her name, I reckon.
You and her'd be about the same age.

Here.

But now she's gone, and so should you be.

That's a Guinea man,

and they eat fresh young girls like you
for breakfast.

I ain't never been breakfast for nobody.

You go on now.
You got no more to say to him.

Go on!

I got me one more thing to say to him.

I saw.

I ain't told nobody yet. But I saw.

AMES: Fiddler! Come on out here,
I want to talk to you.

Yes, Mr. Ames!

Come on.

What can I do for you, sir?

You get your fiddle
and go up to the main house.

Mr. Reynolds brought a friend
back from the junction.

They wanna hear some music
to make him happy.

Oh, yes, sir. You come to the right man
for that, sure enough.

-Go on.
-Yes, Sir.

Said you wanted to hear me play?
Now, here's your chance.

Give me that stuff.

Look at those stars.

Clouds look full of snow, don't they?

Oh, no, no, not snow, rain!

-Fiddler!
-Yes, sir!

Fiddler, Sir Robert Calvert and I
are waiting!

Coming. On the way!

-Let go!
-Fiddler.

The man. I know the man!

How you know him?

When Reynolds...

When Master Reynolds paid money for Kunta,

that man there pay money for Fanta.

Where that man come from, Fiddler?

Junction, Ames say.

That's 15, 20 miles.

Days, Fiddler. How many in days?

I don't know! And if did,
I sure in hell wouldn't tell you!

Now let loose my fiddle!

-Fiddler!
-Yes, Sir.

I warrant you've never heard a black
make music like this one.

CALVERT: I've heard a number of them,
Mr. Reynolds.

They all have that flair.
Dancing and happiness.

It's inborn. Nature of the beast.

(BOTH LAUGH)

MR. REYNOLDS: Come along, Fiddler,
come along.

Yes, sir!

(FIDDLE PLAYING)

Stand up straight, now.

(KNOCKING)

You wants to see my Aurelia, Mr. Ames?

Oh, now, don't be like that.

He like to give you a quilt
or a new calico.

And you been talking about
getting' a new calico.

So geton in.

Oh, it's all right, child.

-It's all right.
-(GASPS)

(GASPS)

-Get inside.
-(WHIMPERS)

(PANTING)

(BLOWING)

(SINGING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

"Find me some flowers."

Mrs. Reynolds wants to make the house
look pretty for Master Reynolds' birthday.

Flowers, this time of year.

Birthday? What's that?

Oh! Master Reynolds' birthday is next
biggest thing to Christmas, I reckon.

And what's that? Christmas?

Oh, bunch of answers to that.

Christmas was when Jesus
up and got himself born.

It's when white folks give each other
what none of them need no how.

But what it mostly is,

is the one time of year
we gets to eat good!

Get so I can burp
and say my amens, all at the same time.

Christmas, that happen
at nighttime, Fiddler?

It happen when it happen, I reckon.
How come?

I don't see Aurelia no more at nighttime.

She all the time at Mr. Ames' cabin.

What they doing in there, Fiddler?

"What they doing in there?"

What you think they be doing in there?

You hear Mr. Ames grunting and puffing,
most, till dawn, don't you?

I hear them.

Well, then,

they be doing the same way they does
back in Africa, I reckon.

Huh.

Her and Mr. Ames,

you think they talk?

Uh...

I suppose she ain't said nothing

‘cause if she did, I'd know.

(CHUCKLES SOFTLY)

Never did figure out
what that girl say she saw.

(PANTING)

(LAUGHING) Hey, Toby.
Look what I got from the kitchen!

I got--

(GRUNTS)

(WHIMPERS)

Damn you, nigger!

Didn't you think nothing about me?

-About you, Fiddler?
-Yeah, me. Me, me, me!

You go runnin' off in the hills,
you know what's gonna happen to me?

I gets to sleep on a mud floor!

I gets to eat what the pigs won't eat!

You was mine to turn into a good nigger.

You go running off and everything I got,
everything I worked for,

and it ain't much, it'll all be gone!

-(PANTING) Fiddler, want me to stay?
-No!

You can't stay now,
not with them broke-off chains!

Oh!

You done done it good now!

You done done it,
So you got to go right now. Tonight!

Ames see you with them leg-irons
broke like that,

it'll go hard with you.

Fiddler, come with Kunta.

No.

It's too cold and I'm too old.

Hound dogs would catch us
before we get more than two miles!

By yourself, you got a chance, maybe.

Not much, but a little.

You should've
left them chains alone, nigger.

Chains ain't right for a nigger, Fiddler.

Lord.

You sure is some mighty child!

Here.

Kunta never forget you.

(VOICE BREAKING) You help Kunta be free.

(DOOR CLOSES)

(WHISPERS) What it like to be free,
African?

What it like?

Must be something special.

Ah!

(SIGHS)

(PANTING)

(PANTING)

(SHIVERING)

(PANTING)

(SHIVERING)

(CHUCKLES)

(LAUGHING)

(DOGS BARKING)

-(PANTING)
(DOGS BARKING)

-(PANTING)
(DOGS BARKING)

(PANTING)

(GRUNTING)

(WHIMPERING)

(DOGS BARKING)

Out, boy, out!

(PANTING)

(DOGS BARKING AND GROWLING)

(PANTING)

Get the dog off him.

-Toby! Get up!
-(GROANS)

I know you understand me.

Toby.

You're going to learn
to answer to your name!

(DOGS WHINING)

(PANTING) Fiddler!

Fiddler! They got him!

Miss Reynolds?

Yes?

Pardon me, ma'am, but, uh,
could I see Master Reynolds, please?

Oh, Fiddler, I believe he's studying
the scriptures now.

Oh, the man's a Christian saint, he is.
But, uh, it's powerful important.

Very well, Fiddler. You will wait here.

Yes, ma'am.

(DOGS HOWLING)

(GROANING)

(GASPING)

James.

Put some oil on it, it's a bit dry.

(PANTING)

Very well, Fiddler. He'll see you now.

-Thank you, Miss Reynolds.
-Fiddler, don't overstay your welcome.

Oh, no, Miss Reynolds,
would never do that.

Take him up.

(ROPES CREAKING)

Tie him off.

Fiddler, he's a runaway.

Now, you understand that I cannot
countenance that sort of behavior.

-Do you understand the word countenance?
-Yes, Sir.

But, but you told me he was mine, Master.

You, you said when we was
bringing him back from auction--

Yes, yours to turn
into a proper field hand,

and since he ran away,
you didn't do a very good job.

Isn't that a fair deduction?

Do you understand the word deduction?

Yes, Master. I understand--

Mind your tone, mind your tone, Fiddler.

Mind your tone. Mind it well.

I anticipate some adjustments
will be forthcoming toward you

as a result of all this.

Yes, sir. I...

I just hates to see a prime
field hand like that boy all ruined--

AMES: I want every buck
and wench to the barn!

(STAMMERING) It's just that you paid
good money for that African Guinea man.

And you shouldn't--

AMES: You're going to see
how a bad nigger gets turned good.

-You got an investment.
-(WHIP CRACKS)

(SOFTLY) Lord God!

Are you quite finished, Fiddler?

Yes, Master.

Old Fiddler's finished, right enough.

That is correct.

Mr. Ames is now in charge of the African.

You failed me, Fiddler.

And what we'll do about that,
we'll discuss at a later time.

-Yes.
-(WHIP CRACKS)

(KUNTA SCREAMS)

-(WHIP CRACKING)
(SCREAMING)

-James.
-(PANTING)

Your name is Toby.

-(PANTING)
-l want to hear you say it.

Your name is Toby.

You're going to learn to say your name.

Let me hear you say it.

What's your name?

Kunta. Kunta Kinte.

(SCREAMING)

AMES: When the master gives you something,
you take it.

He gave you a name.

It's a nice name.

It's Toby.

And it's going to be yours
till the day you die.

Now, I know you understand me.
And I want to hear it.

(KUNTA PANTING)

AMES: Again!

-(WHIP CRACKS)
-(KUNTA SCREAMS)

(PANTING)

I want to hear you say your name.

Your name is Toby.

What's your name?

Kunta.

(KUNTA SCREAMING)

Lord God, help that boy.

They gonna whip him dead.

(WHIP CRACKS)

What's your name?

Say it!

Toby.

Who are you? Say your name.

(KUNTA SCREAMING)

What's your name?

Toby.

Aye.

Say it again.

Say it louder so they all can hear you!
What's your name?

(PANTING)

Toby.

My name is Toby.

Aye.

That's a good nigger.

Cut him down.

(GROANING)

(WHIMPERING)

(GROANING)

(SHUSHING)

Don't you care what
that white man call you.

Make you say Toby.

What you care?

You know who you be.

Kunta.

That's who you always be.

Kunta Kinte.

There's gonna be another day.

(INHALES)

You hear me?

There's gonna be another day!

NARRATOR: Next on Roots...

John Amos, as the adult Kunta Kinte,
finds Fanta.

Since they take me from my home,

the only time I get to be free
is when I run away.

NARRATOR: And shares with her
his flight for freedom.

We can make it to the north and be free!

-No!
-Fanta!

I'm gonna stay alive!

Maggie, who's that
you got in there with you?

NARRATOR: Roots, the triumph
of an American family, continues.

That's him.

(THEME SONG PLAYING)