[ Index for this Doctor ]
[ Index for this story ]
by ELWYN JONES
and GERRY DAVIS
first broadcast - 31st December 1966
running time - 22mins 54secs
(TRASK climbs about the ship and then turns and shouts down at the Highlanders in the boat. All eyes are on a bound figure of a man. He is tied by his hands. BEN and JAMIE watch as the man is pushed over board. The man crashes into the water. JAMIE and BEN wait for him to surface but he doesn't. Time goes by, but he still doesn't surface.)
TRASK: Once aboard the Anabelle, that's the only way you'll get off her. Straight downwards! Arh.
(The bubbles of the man trying to breathe underwater slowly trickle to a stop.)
(The hold has obviously been used for the slave trade. There are benches, rusty shackles, and four small portholes, not large enough to get more than a hand and an arm through, along each side. There are already about thirty men in here, some trying to sleep. The hatch door at the top of the companionway opens and the latest contingent of prisoners are shoved into the overcrowded hold.)
TRASK: Get in there!
BEN: But there's no room.
TRASK: Room enough for rebels. Get stored below.
BEN: What have you got down here, stinking fish?
TRASK: That's exactly what it is - stinking fish.
JAMIE: Well, I'm not going.
TRASK: Yes you are, you scurvy swarb. Another word out of you and I'll be down here with my cutlass. You'll learn who's master here.
(They finally make space near one of the portholes, after some grumbling from the men who were first there.)
BEN: Oh, you can hardly breathe.
COLIN: At least we're alive.
JAMIE: (To COLIN.) Are you feeling better, Sir?
COLIN: Greatly recovered, thank you Jamie. My fever's going.
JAMIE: Aye, it'll be no better for being cooped up in this hell hole.
BEN: Yeah, for how long though? And where are they sending us?
COLIN: (In the Scot's language.) Who kens?
JAMIE: (Translates.) Who knows?
BEN: Well, someone here might.
(He turns to WILLY, the next man on their bench.)
BEN: Hey mate, got any idea where they're sending us?
(WILLY moves away as though stung.)
WILLY: Beware. They're spies.
WILLY: (Pointing at BEN.) This man's an Englishman. One more blow we can strike for Scotland.
BEN: Oh, what are you talking about?
WILLY: One more piece of vermin to be stamped out.
BEN: What are you going to do?
WILLY: Put the foot into him and tramp his English bones into the deck.
(BEN backs away as other furious Highlanders gather around him.)
WILLY: Back! Back! I discovered him. The first blow will be mine.
(BEN is against the bulkhead. There is nowhere else to go. Suddenly a voice rings out.)
COLIN: Will MacKay would never strike a friend of the Prince.
WILLY: I know that voice.
COLIN: You have been away so long you don't recognise me.
(WILLY recognises the voice.)
WILLY: Man it's yourself - Colin McLaren.
COLIN: And Jamie, son of Donald McCrimmon, a piper, like his father and his father's father.
JAMIE: With no pipes though, just my chanter.
WILLY: Ah wee Jimmy. (Pointing to BEN.) But this Englishman - he is a friend to our Prince?
COLIN: He is a friend of mine. They helped bring me here, weak but alive.
WILLY: (To BEN.) Oh well, I crave your pardon. A friend of the McLaren's is a friend of mine.
BEN: Well thanks, I'm glad to hear it.
WILLY: (To JAMIE.) Then how came he here with you?
JAMIE: Who, Ben? He's a deserting English sailor. So we take him back home.
WILLY: A sailor. I'm a man of the sea myself. The master of this very vessel.
BEN: If you're the skipper here, what's that Trask geezer doing on the bridge?
WILLY: (Furious.) That shark was my mate. I was running arms from France past the blockade. Trask betrayed me! The Navy boarded the Annabelle and now he's sailing the ship for King George!
BEN: Oh yeah?
WILLY: (Whirling on him.) You doubt my word?
BEN: Oh no, skipper, just the bit about working for King George.
WILLY: What do you mean?
BEN: Well, we're not exactly being treated like prisoners of war, now are we? Doesn't it occur to you that this Trask could be using this vessel without the knowledge of his King and Sovereign in order to work some big fiddle on his own account?
WILLY: (Puzzled.) Fiddle?
BEN: Look, mate, he is going to sell us like the stinking fish he thinks we are. Slave labour, that's what we're going to be, slave labour!
(There is a small chorus of dismay from the Highlanders.)
(POLLY is waiting for KIRSTY to return. She is in a large barn on the outskirts of Inverness. There is a noise outside the barn and POLLY checks it out. A man is leading a small donkey laden down with pots and pans. POLLY moves back and tries to practise stabbing with KIRSTY's dirk. She isn't good at it and soon she drops it. Another noise makes POLLY turn around and KIRSTY enters the barn. She is carrying some clothes and a small sack.)
POLLY: Kirsty, you gave me such a fright.
KIRSTY: I'm not used to fetching and carrying, you know. We used to have our own servants.
POLLY: That's obvious. Did you get everything?
KIRSTY: Aye, the clothes for you, and trays and oranges. But, what we have to spend our money on oranges for?
POLLY: You'll see. Hey, these are great. Last time we went back to the past I had to wear boy's clothes all the time.
(POLLY changes into clothes so that she looks like KIRSTY.)
POLLY: Now then. How do I look?
KIRSTY: Bonnie enough.
POLLY: Okay, the next thing is the oranges. In the trays.
KIRSTY: You're not gonna have us selling oranges, are ye?
POLLY: What? I haven't got it wrong, have I? You do have orange sellers, don't you? I mean Nell Gwyn and all that?
KIRSTY: (Puzzled.) Nell Gwyn? Well of course there are orange sellers in Scotland. But they're mostly coarse common girls.
POLLY: The sort that hang around soldiers?
POLLY: Right, then we're going to be orange sellers.
POLLY: Well, look, how else can we find out where they've taken the Doctor and your father?
KIRSTY: (A little worried.) But if they catch us...
POLLY: We still have a friend.
POLLY: Algernon 'F'-finch. Always assuming he's got out of that terrible pit.
(The main dining room of the "Sea Eagle" is almost full with a bustling crowd of soldiers and locals drinking and partying. The DOCTOR is among them, still disguised as an old woman, and is now trying to pass through the crowd. Everybody is amazed when ALGERNON enters the room and hops to one of the free seats.)
ALGERNON: (To the soldiers.) Sit down. Sit down.
(He spots the DOCTOR.)
ALGERNON: Wench! Get me some wine. Come on. Hurry up woman.
(The DOCTOR gives him a glass of wine.)
ALGERNON: Blast. Be off with you. I'll pay later. That's better. (Yawns.) That's better.
(The door swings open again and POLLY and KIRSTY, now dressed in their orange-sellers' outfits and holding their trays of oranges before them, walk into the room followed by the SERGEANT.)
SERGEANT: All right you two, in here and see the officer. Go on. In you go. Get in there.
(KIRSTY doesn't like being pushed.)
KIRSTY: Put your hands off me or I'll scalp the hide off ye!
POLLY: Kirsty, be quiet!
(The DOCTOR looks up when he recognises the voice but keeps his head down to prevent his cover being blown.)
KIRSTY: I'm not having a great ugly Englishman laying hands on me! Filthy.
POLLY: Keep quiet, Kirsty, you'll give away the game.
SERGEANT: Over here, both of you.
(The SERGEANT is forcing the girls to go over to ALGERNON's table.)
KIRSTY: Will you stop that! Stop it!
SERGEANT: All right you scum, get back! Get out or you'll be flayed alive. Go on.
KIRSTY: (Sarcastic.) Oh you're so brave, Sergeant.
SERGEANT: Very funny. Over there.
(They arrive at the table, but ALGERNON has now got his eyes closed and is trying to relax.)
POLLY: Algy. Algernon.
ALGERNON: (Still half asleep.) What?
POLLY: Algernon. Wake up. Wake up, Algy.
(ALGERNON opens his eyes slowly, but once as he focuses on them his eyes open wide in horror.)
ALGERNON: Oh no!
(The SERGEANT looks closer at them.)
SERGEANT: These two look like the rebels we were searching for yesterday, Sir?
POLLY: (Playfully to ALGERNON.) What a nasty man. Tell him we're not, Algy dear.
ALGERNON: Oh, just a minute!
KIRSTY: Aye, we're old friends.
(Both KIRSTY and POLLY put their heads on ALGERNON's shoulders.)
SERGEANT: (Looking at the scene in front of him.) I can see that.
ALGERNON: Well, that's all, Sergeant. Be about your business.
(The SERGEANT turns to the rest of the rowdy mod of soldiers.)
SERGEANT: All right you scum, out of it! The King doesn't pay you to lay around here all day. Go on out, all of ya. The last one out gets five hundred lashes. Now go on, beat it! Out!
(Soon the soldiers have gone, and the room is a lot quieter. The DOCTOR shifts from the bench he was sitting on over to the booth next to ALGERNON and the two girls, and leans forward to hear better.)
ALGERNON: (Looking at POLLY and KIRSTY.) This is really too much!
POLLY: (In a cooing voice.) Oh, Algy, we thought you'd be flattered. We turned to you for help immediately, didn't we Kirsty?
KIRSTY: Just the sort of man two defenceless girls would turn to.
ALGERNON: I'll have you thrown in prison!
(POLLY looks up at the ceiling, quoting from the identity disc.)
POLLY: Alfred Algernon Thomas...
ALGERNON: Quiet. What more do you want from me? Stab me, you've taken all my money. I haven't even the price of a glass of wine left on me.
POLLY: I don't suppose the Doctor and the others have a glass of water to drink, never mind wine. Now, where are they?
ALGERNON: How should I know? In prison, I expect, where they belong.
KIRSTY: They're not, we've checked. Now where are they?
ALGERNON: I don't know. I just round them up. You'll have to ask Solicitor Grey. He's in charge of prisoners, not me.
POLLY: Where is he?
ALGERNON: He's got a room somewhere near here. Can I go? Dash it, I haven't had a wink of sleep yet.
POLLY: (Sarcastically.) Oh, you poor thing. Go on. But be careful. Not a word to anyone.
(She gets up and allows ALGERNON to rise. POLLY and KIRSTY walk over to the door of GREY's room. However, just as they get there, PERKINS comes out from the door and, seeing him, the DOCTOR lowers his face again.)
ALGERNON: Two wenches there to see the Solicitor.
(PERKINS moves a little out of the door but bumps into the DOCTOR who is trying to keep his face down as he moves closer to listen.)
PERKINS: Eh. Oh, I beg your pardon, Madame. Kindly sit down the aisle.
DOCTOR: (In his "woman" voice.) Ohh.
PERKINS: (To KIRSTY and POLLY.) Cedric Perkins, Solicitor's Clerk, ladies, at your service. What can I do for you?
POLLY: Where is the Solicitor?
PERKINS: (With dignity.) Seeing to his duties. Giving some rebel prisoners the choice between, ah, life and death.
(In the hold, GREY stands by the ladder leading down to the crowded hold, some parchments in his hand. Standing beside him, TRASK is playing with a long cat-o'-nine-tails whip - a collection of knotted strips of leather bound to a wooden handle.)
TRASK: Silence there, you bilge rats! And quiet! Pipe down there. Quiet. The Solicitor hath news for ye.
GREY: Rebels, your attention. A mark of clemency from his most gracious Majesty King George.
(There are shouts from the prisoners.)
TRASK: Get down! Get down!
GREY: This clemency can be withdrawn, so hark ye.
HIGHLANDER: We're harking to ye.
(Everybody calms down.)
GREY: It has pleased his Majesty to declare that, whereas there are a great many of his rebellious subjects in gaol, a speedy example must be made of them.
COLIN: Ah, clemency.
GREY: Therefore it is ordained that there will be those required as witnesses.
JAMIE: (Shouts.) Traitors, you mean!
GREY: Witnesses. Those not wanting to turn King's evidence will be hanged.
(More shouts from the Highlanders and TRASK waves his whip.)
TRASK: Pipe down! Pipe down, you dogs!
GREY: Wait! There is... there is another alternative. Thank you, Mr. Trask.
GREY: Plantation workers are required to work in his Majesty's colonies in the West Indies. I have here seven year contracts. Sign your name to these... (Waving the contracts in the air.) ...and you will receive free transportation to your new homes. Well? Which of you lucky lads will be the first to sign?
(He puts the contracts on a table. One of the Highlanders starts to walk towards the table. He is about to pick up the feather quill pen.)
WILLY: Don't touch that pen! (To GREY.) I know fine what you offer, Mr Solicitor. I have seen these plantations in the Indies. Not one of your men that sign will live out your seven years. Better a quick and honourable death at the end of a rope, than a long slow one after months of...
GREY: Who is this man?
TRASK: Willy MacKay, former master of this vessel. I should have done for him long ago.
(He pulls out a gun but GREY pulls it down.)
GREY: Later Trask, later.
(GREY turns back to the rest of the Highlanders.)
GREY: Listen to me, all of you. You've heard what MacKay here offers you - death with honour? What, lingering on the end of a halter? Followed, may I remind you, by quartering and the like courtesies extended to rebels. I offer you life, with a chance to work for your eventual liberty.
WILLY: (Scoffs.) Liberty?
(Some of the Highlanders elbow him back into the crowd.)
GREY: Unless of course, Mr. MacKay, you would care to turn King's evidence.
(Some dirty looks are thrown WILLY's way.)
GREY: For the rest of you... for those who wish to sign, over here. For those who wish to hang, over there. Make your choice!
HIGHLANDER: (To the others.) Come on.
TRASK: Right, line up over here. That's it, stand in a line ye. Now pipe down, get those signatures on the contract. Pipe down there!
(There is a moment's silence as the Highlanders look uncertainly at one another, then a hue and cry begins as most of them start to move to the left-hand side. Soon most of them are in the line for the trip, and only COLIN, JAMIE, WILLY and BEN are left in the "death" line.)
GREY: (Glaring at the four.) Well, well, MacKay, only four for the gallows?
BEN: Now hang on a minute...
(JAMIE is shocked to see BEN go up to the signing table.)
JAMIE: No Ben, you can't!
COLIN: Oh, let him go. Let him go.
BEN: I'm not a Scots, but can I sign?
GREY: Why not?
BEN: Can I read it first?
GREY: Of course.
(The next instant BEN seizes the three sheets of fine parchment and tears them to pieces.)
TRASK: You scurvy swarb!
(To the other Highlanders who start to cry with anger and happiness.)
TRASK: Hold off there.
(TRASK spins forward, swings the heavy handle of his whip, and knocks BEN unconscious onto the deck. WILLY and JAMIE move forward, but the sailors beside TRASK level their pistols at their chests.)
GREY: (To TRASK.) Clap him in irons. When I return with new contracts, we'll bind him and drop him from the highest yardarm.
TRASK: Mr. Solicitor, mark this!
(He passes GREY his whip.)
GREY: (Shouting.) All of you! The next man who tries to oppose me will not be so fortunate. (To TRASK.) See to it!
TRASK: (To a guard.) Right Parka, clap him in irons. Arh.
(BEN is dragged from the hold as the other Highlanders cheer and argue.)
(PERKINS, meanwhile, is sitting with a flagon of sherry in front of him, obviously playing with the two girls. Meanwhile, on the next table, the DOCTOR is listening.)
POLLY: (Attempting to stand up.) Mr. Grey doesn't seem to be coming. I think we'd better be off.
(She starts to rise but PERKINS puts a hand on her sleeve.)
PERKINS: Oh surely, ladies, you won't deprive an old fellow of your charming company. I assure you he won't be long.
POLLY: Nevertheless I... I think...
PERKINS: (His tone drops its usually oily smoothness and becomes firm.) I insist!
POLLY: (Pushing his hand away.) No!
PERKINS: Very well, I shall rouse the watch. They may be interested in two such genteel orange wenches.
(POLLY stares at him and then sits down.)
PERKINS: Hmm, hmm, hmm, that's better. Now, to pass the time what say you to a nice round of whist.
(PERKINS gets out a pack of playing cards and doesn't notice an old "woman" approaching them.)
DOCTOR: You need four for whist.
PERKINS: (Not looking up.) Kindly remove yourself, madam.
DOCTOR: There is nothing nicer than a nice game of whist.
PERKINS: Madam, I told you!
(He draws himself up to his not impressive height but stops and stares when the DOCTOR pulls out GREY's pistol and points it at his heart.)
DOCTOR: (In his normal voice.) I'm sure you'll oblige an old woman.
PERKINS: The German Doctor!
DOCTOR: Umm, perhaps you'd like to count the trumps.
PERKINS: Well, I... ha, ha, ha.
(PERKINS slowly subsides, feeling the pressure of the gun against his ribs. KIRSTY cuts the cards and starts dealing. Across the room, the door is flung open and GREY enters in a furious temper. The DOCTOR sees him and lowers his head so that his face is obscured by his bonnet. Hiding the gun with his shawl, he manages to keep the muzzle pointed at PERKINS's waistcoat.)
DOCTOR: (Looking at PERKINS's cards.) Oh dear, clubs. Would you like to deal, Polly - orange wench.
(GREY spots PERKINS and marches up to him.)
GREY: Perkins, I want...
(He spots what PERKINS is doing.)
GREY: What the devil are you at, man?
PERKINS: (Remembering the gun held by the DOCTOR.) Well I, ah... well I, ah... just playing a... a round of cards, Mr. Grey.
GREY: Indeed. Then you can just come up to my room. I want more contracts.
(He turns away.)
POLLY: Mr... Mr. Grey?
GREY: (Turning to her.) Yes?
(The DOCTOR leans across and touches POLLY on the arm, shaking his head.)
POLLY: Oh, nothing.
GREY: Come along, Perkins, make haste.
PERKINS: I have to go.
(He rises but the DOCTOR stops him.)
DOCTOR: Not just yet. Remember you have seen nothing.
DOCTOR: Your eyes.
DOCTOR: Yes. You wouldn't want another headache, now, would you?
(He aims the handle of the gun like a club at PERKINS head.)
PERKINS: Oh, no, no, no. But, ah...
DOCTOR: I'll tell you what we are going to do. We ladies are going to leave first, but you are going to sit here, quietly, comfortably, for another ten minutes...
DOCTOR: ...before you leave, because I am going to watch you all the time. And if you move...
PERKINS: Yes, I... I understand, sir.
DOCTOR: Now, girls, let's leave this rough place. Ten minutes, remember?
PERKINS: Ten minutes, Doctor. Ten minutes.
(Once inside, KIRSTY and POLLY collapse. The DOCTOR enters more gingerly.)
POLLY: Come on, it's quite safe. All right?
(The DOCTOR looks about.)
DOCTOR: Umm, very good, very good.
POLLY: (Shivering.) That horrible little man's face.
KIRSTY: It was a picture right enough.
POLLY: Hey, why did he call you the German doctor, Doctor?
(The DOCTOR aims the gun for the far wall, cocks it, and starts to squeeze the trigger.)
POLLY: Doctor, be careful!
KIRSTY: You'll have the town upon us!
(The DOCTOR squeezes the trigger and the gun clicks.)
DOCTOR: It's not loaded. They're dangerous things.
(He puts the gun back into his pocket. All three start to laugh and be happy at being free.)
POLLY: You know those dresses really do suit you, Doctor.
DOCTOR: Oh, you saucy girl.
KIRSTY: You're the very image of my old granny McLaren.
POLLY: You're wonderful Doctor.
DOCTOR: I know.
POLLY: You've even managed to cheer old Kirsty up.
KIRSTY: Oh aye, I'd forgotten.
(KIRSTY's mouth turns down again as she remembers her situation.)
POLLY: Now what are we going to do?
(The DOCTOR flings himself on the hay and closes his eyes.)
DOCTOR: Do? What do you mean, do?
POLLY: Doctor, don't go all sleepy on us, now. We've got to do something.
DOCTOR: All right, go ahead.
POLLY: If only we knew where the others were.
DOCTOR: (Drowsily.) They're on the ship.
POLLY: (Shocked/surprised.) What?
DOCTOR: They're on the ship, the Annabelle. Master's name, Trask. Not a nice man, you wouldn't like him.
POLLY: Doctor! Doctor!
(POLLY comes across on her knees and digs him in the ribs to wake him.)
POLLY: Look, if they're on the ship, then we've got to get them off it. Or...
DOCTOR: Or what?
POLLY: Or capture the ship.
KIRSTY: What do you want to do that for?
POLLY: Well, couldn't you sail to somewhere safe? I... I mean wasn't France your ally, or something?
KIRSTY: (Shaking her head.) I won't leave Scotland.
DOCTOR: It'd be safer.
DOCTOR: Well it wouldn't be for very long. Just for seven...
(He catches himself [The general amnesty and pardon for the Jacobites was made in 1753.])
DOCTOR: ...just for a few years, and then it'd be safe to come back.
KIRSTY: But why should I leave my own country?
DOCTOR: Oh, please yourself. But you and your father may get killed if you stay in the glens.
(This stops KIRSTY and then, after thinking, speaks reluctantly.)
KIRSTY: Are... are you sure there's no other way?
POLLY: Look, the Doctor says it won't be for long.
KIRSTY: What must we do?
POLLY: We must make a plan. Doctor. Doctor!
(The DOCTOR had closed his eyes again but POLLY digs him in the ribs again wakes him up.)
POLLY: Have you got a plan for us?
(He closes his eyes.)
POLLY: Oh, go on, I know you better than that, you must have a plan.
DOCTOR: (Stretching.) Well, it's just a wee idea really.
POLLY: Go on.
DOCTOR: I've only just thought about it. It won't work, but it'd be a try. Anyone got any money?
POLLY: Yes, seventeen guineas that we pinched from the English Lieutenant.
DOCTOR: That's a fortune in these days. Now, we want weapons - lots of them, and a rowing boat.
KIRSTY: Well, I can get a rowing boat.
DOCTOR: Good, and we can buy the weapons.
POLLY: Can we?
DOCTOR: From the English soldiers. Well, they're bound to have heaps of weapons as souvenirs.
POLLY: Yes, but will they sell them to us?
DOCTOR: You don't know the English soldier. He'd sell his Grandmother for tuppence half penny.
KIRSTY: And... and then?
DOCTOR: We smuggle them aboard the Annabelle.
POLLY: That's great! And then what?
DOCTOR: (Yawning.) Oh, I don't know, we'll think of something. I must get some sleep.
POLLY: Doctor! Doctor!
(But it is too late - the DOCTOR is fast asleep.)
(PERKINS is rowing GREY across to the ship in a small boat.)
GREY: (Calls.) Mr. Trask!
(There is no sign of him.)
GREY: Oh, take it, where is the man? Mr. Trask!
(A face appears above him on board the ship.)
GREY: Ah, you. Go and fetch Mr. Trask.
(The face disappears but this doesn't improve GREY's temper.)
GREY: Mr. Trask!
(Soon TRASK appears as GREY and PERKINS pull themselves on board.)
GREY: Is everything in readiness?
TRASK: It is.
GREY: I've had Perkins here copy out three contracts, just to make sure. And if anyone tries that trick again of tearing them up, shoot him down immediately.
TRASK: (Waving his gun again.) Don't you worry about that.
GREY: We need two of the contracts to be signed.
TRASK: Every man jack of them will sign. If not with ink, then with blood. It is all the one to me.
GREY: (Firmly.) No. You're not dealing with slaves, man. These Highlanders are men of high courage and resolution. Flog but one of them, they'll all stand together and refuse to sign a thing. You'll undo everything I've worked for. No, once they're safely sold in Barbados they can be whipped to death for all I care. Until then, use a light fist, or you'll answer to me.
TRASK: And the London deserter, what about him?
GREY: Proceed with the ducking. It'll serve as a useful encouragement to the rest. (To PERKINS.) Perkins, go below. Make the preparations.
PERKINS: Yes, Sir.
GREY: And, Perkins - bring the deserter on deck.
PERKINS: Of course, Sir.
(POLLY and KIRSTY are sitting, waiting for the DOCTOR. Both girls look tired and are yawning. In front of them are a broken sword, a pitchfork, and a couple of rusty kitchen knives.)
POLLY: Haven't done very well, have we?
KIRSTY: They wouldn't take me seriously.
POLLY: Nor me. I do hope the Doctor's had better luck.
(There is a soft knock on the door. POLLY comes to the door.)
POLLY: Who's there?
DOCTOR: (Hisses.) Me.
(POLLY opens the door and the DOCTOR slips in. He trundles a small hand barrow covered with a piece of tarpaulin. They close the door behind them and turn round.)
POLLY: Let's see, Doctor. What have you got?
DOCTOR: No. Let's see yours first.
POLLY: Oh look, don't tease us. Look.
(The DOCTOR looks at their small amount.)
DOCTOR: Oh. It's a start.
(He then whips the tarpaulin off the barrow. It is loaded to the brim with swords, muskets, dirks, and pistols. Both girls eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the amount.)
KIRSTY: You must have robbed the Duke's arsenal.
DOCTOR: (Shrugs.) Yes, something like that.
POLLY: (Hugging him.) You're fantastic.
DOCTOR: I know.
(KIRSTY leans over to pick up a heavily ornamented pistol.)
KIRSTY: Look, there's a bonnie one.
(The DOCTOR's attention is focused on the ring on her finger.)
DOCTOR: Just a minute.
KIRSTY: What is it?
DOCTOR: This ring. Now, let me see.
POLLY: (Seeing what the DOCTOR is looking at.) Oh that. It's her father's. She won't let you touch it.
DOCTOR: (Looking at the ring.) I'm not surprised. It's not her fathers.
KIRSTY: (Flatly.) You lie! It is!
DOCTOR: Then why has it the Stuarts' seal?
KIRSTY: My father bade me not tell where he got it.
DOCTOR: Until the right time. That time has now arrived.
(KIRSTY thinks about it and then shrugs.)
KIRSTY: The Prince gave it to my father off his own hand in heat of battle. My father saved the Prince's life.
DOCTOR: Then it is right and proper that it should now save his life. Give it me.
(KIRSTY hesitates but then passes it over.)
DOCTOR: Thank you. I wonder. Bait.
DOCTOR: Bait for a very greedy man.
(BEN is standing on deck with his arms and legs bound. A sailor adjusts a rope around his waist. The rope is suspended from one of the booms, which protrude over the side of the ship.)
TRASK: Right lads, take him up.
(BEN is hauled six feet into the air and then swung out over the dark waters of the firth. TRASK looks over at Grey, who nods, and, at TRASK's signal, the sailors holding the rope release it. BEN plummets down with a splash into the dark, cold waters. The watching men wait for the signal from TRASK to bring the young sailor back to the surface. TRASK, his arm upraised, waits for GREY to give the signal. If that signal doesn't come soon, BEN will drown.)
Lt. Algernon Ffinch
Captain Jebb Trask
Title Music by
and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop