INT. GUTHRIE TAVERN – NIGHT
Chatter fills the tavern of the Guthrie’s. Drunken men stagger between tables. They order more drinks, sleep on the tables, or stare into space.
Unnoticed, a man – FLINT – enters. He strides over to the counter. Flint takes in the scene inside the tavern. Without looking at the bartender he orders rum. When the rum is served, he empties the cup in in one draft. Beside him a smaller man – GATES – chuckles.
Flint is not in the mood for conversation.
Had I seen you on the Walrus I’d
understand. Yet here you stand
looking like you spent too much
time in that goddamn weather out
No offense, sir, but I’d prefer
to be left in peace.
I’m no ‘sir’. Gates, Hal Gates,
quartermaster of the Walrus.
Gates offers his hand to shake. Flint considers not taking it, but looking around the tavern he realises that to achieve his goals he will need help, a crew, and a ship.
Gates orders another round of drink for them. He steers Flint away from the counter to a quieter corner of the tavern.
New to Nassau?
Flint reacts non-committal without saying a word. He nurses his drink.
You’re a sailor.
Not anymore. I was... relieved
of my command.
Your crew voted you out?
Flint looks at him in incomprehension.
He lets his gaze wander around the tavern.
The His Majesty’s Navy decided
they’d be better off without me
And you came to Nassau of all
I was here. Three month ago as officer.
Gates is not sure what to think about Flint.
You should know, Flint, that in
Nassau there are only sinners,
skilled sailors are rare, and profits
are better than on any merchant ship.
Are... you trying to recruit me?
Is it working?
Flint is amused.
You called your ship Walrus, was it?
That she is. It’s a three-master.
Must’ve seen her in the bay.
The one with the white skeleton holding an
hourglass and cutlass on the black.
That’s her. Now, my crew has just
voted the captain off the ship.
And it got ugly enough to say that
he won’t be coming back to reclaim
What’s that got to do with me?
Gates takes in Flint fully. He leans closer in conspiracy.
Well, you’ve been deprived of a
ship. Have you not?
I’m no pirate, Mr Gates.
No one is born a pirate. We’re
men who lost hope. You would
fit right in.
Flint puts down his drink.
Even so. What makes you think
they would consider someone they
don’t know and who was part of their
enemy not so long ago as their captain?
I’m their quartermaster. I act in
the interest of the crew.
Flint moves closer in interest.
What makes you think you can trust me?
The fact that you haven’t raised
the issue of payment once. And
finding you in a place such as this,
it tells me that you are desperate
to return to the sea.
I’m aware how pirates operate.
But not of their workings as a crew.
For that, you have me.
It was you who initiated to get rid
of your old captain.
You’re sharp, Flint. You and I could
make quite some pieces of eight.
You’ll get me on the Walrus?
Gates rises to his feet. Flints mirrors him. They shake hands.
Welcome aboard the Walrus,