The Convert (2024) Movie Script
Get off the steps!
The topgallant's broken!
Easy now. Easy now. | Put him down here.
Stay below, Munro!
Gather round.
I must confess...
I did not know Mr. Ridley well, | but the...
the death of any man | is a sorrow to be mourned.
Mr. Munro...
perhaps you might like | to offer a benediction.
Only those | who have been at sea...
truly grasp | the enormity of this world.
The immense nature | of its vast distances.
It is a frightening thing | to be made so...
closely aware | of one's own insignificance.
Most men would flinch | from this knowledge.
And yet, we are so compelled,
we hurl ourselves | into the vacant spaces of this
profound Earth...
knowing, | even as we do, that...
one day...
at some unforeseen hour...
a great price | may be demanded of us.
Commend now | his everlasting soul
in the name of Jesus Christ, | our savior.
- Amen. | - Amen.
Loose the main sail.
- Stand by to bear away. | - Stand by to bear away!
Come in.
A worthy eulogy for a sailor | lost far from home, Mr. Munro.
Thank you.
Your words and actions | speak of a man
who has seen | something of the world.
I'm from a family | of shipbuilders.
And now you're a minister.
A lay minister. | We lead by example.
Adam Smith.
Yes.
A man of God who reads | of a mercantile world.
Well, you've come | to the right place, Reverend.
There's money to be made | in these outcast corners.
Your new parishioners | have staked their lives on it.
That boy's royalty, | believe it or not.
Son of one of | the paramount chiefs.
His father bade me | to teach him seacraft.
Uenuku.
Mr. Farrell, | give the lad the wheel.
Uenuku, take us | three points to starboard.
Ease her as she pitches.
Very good.
You should be happy, Farrell,
you need never rise | before noon again.
All right, | that's enough.
- Land ho! | - Aye.
Your new home, Mr. Munro.
Never was perdition | so pleasing to the eye.
Are there Maoris in this area?
They're everywhere.
Even when you can't see them, | they're there.
Where's the nearest | safe anchorage?
Uenuku? That bay?
No. That one.
Waikura.
All right, lads, | we'll go ashore,
find some timber, | replace the topgallant.
Go, lads!
Heave!
Well, would you look at that!
That's it, boy.
That's it, boy. Keep going.
Good boy.
You are a lot more entertaining | than my usual cargo, Munro.
There's not half
as many surprises | in a sack of flour.
Yes, quite.
Splendid.
All right, lads, | the show's over.
Come on. One, two, three!
Yes!
Munro, what is that?
It's called a sketch. | And sometimes a portrait.
What is this?
He rei-puta.
A whale tooth.
It's the voice | of my father's god.
I'm named for this god.
Uenuku-kai-tangata.
Admirable.
And... and this?
Toku whakapapa.
It's my story.
The story of my life...
so far.
All right, lads. | Keep your wits about you.
We're here to get timber, | not cause trouble.
It's all right.
Where the hell has he got to?
All right, lads, with me. | Come on.
It's all right. | That's enough.
Everything alright, | Mr. Munro?
I think so.
I asked him | to forgive your trespass.
You meant no disrespect.
Thank you.
You can't trade with people | you can't talk to.
And that we need | wood for repairs.
He wants the horse | as payment for the trees.
Boyd, give him the axe.
Go on, lad.
There. | All friends again.
We should be ready to sail | by tomorrow morning.
I'm thinking I would like | to camp here until then.
Oh, no, no.
Captain, it's been | a long journey.
I need to feel some earth | beneath my feet.
If I'm to live in this country, | I must acquaint myself with it.
I was charged to deliver you | to Epworth. - And you shall.
But firstly, please, | permit me this furlough.
All right.
I'll leave Uenuku with you.
- Good. | - Where is he?
- Harris, where's the boy? | - Sir?
The lad. Where is he?
Uenuku!
Uenuku!
- Fetch the muskets. | - I'm not going into that.
If we don't get him to Epworth, | we don't get paid.
What do you want here?
I ask that you spare | the lives of these people.
These are my people | from these lands, not yours.
They are nothing to you.
I ask that you... | you show them mercy.
You are English.
Your king is George.
King William now.
George is dead?
Yes.
I sat at his table.
We come in peace.
Ketere.
My son learned | much from you.
It was an honor.
This man is my cargo.
I must deliver him | to Epworth.
In a sense.
Very well.
- Go now. | - What about these people?
And what will you trade | for them?
My horse.
My horse for their lives.
One horse, one life.
- Choose. | - I can...
I cannot make that choice.
Please.
Let's go. Now.
Let's go. Now, go!
To hell with this, | Mr. Kedgley.
She can have my cabin.
Come below.
You must not stay up here.
Come. Please.
Please. You need shelter.
Stand by to make sail.
You may rest in here,
and... and sleep.
What are you doing?
No, no, no. | Please, please, please don't.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I will find you some food.
And some water.
That's it. | Up, together.
Mr. Munro.
Horace Beauchamp.
- Welcome to Epworth. | - Thank you.
Her husband was killed.
I have taken her into my care.
Ah, she's fortunate indeed.
Follow me and I'll show you | to your lodgings.
Good luck, Mr. Munro.
If you've come here | to rinse souls for Jesus,
you're going to be busy.
Help here, | Mr. Goldsworth.
Here we are, Mr. Munro.
- Thank you, Mr. Beauchamp. | - You're very welcome.
I'll leave you | to attend to your ward.
Please.
Morning!
Yeah, give me a hand | over here, yeah.
And behold, ye are this day, | as the stars of heaven...
Mr. Munro,
what a pleasure to find | you already hard at work.
Reginald de Buin.
- We've corresponded. | - Yes, of course.
How do you do?
Not exactly Saint Paul's, | but you'll make something of it.
I shall do my best.
Would you care to join us | tonight for dinner?
That is most kind.
Are you unwell?
Sorry.
It's all right.
What part of the south | are you from, Mr. Munro?
The southeast coast, Hastings, | but I mostly grew up in London.
My father was a shipwright
and wanted to make his name | in the capital.
Well, did he?
No, he slowly | murdered himself with drink.
And what do you make | of Epworth, sir?
It feels a little like | a sculpture
in its early stages.
Its true form not yet emerged | from the stone.
Beautifully put, sir.
Everything is in place.
The land is rich.
The opportunity | is immeasurable.
Indeed, even if it seems | somewhat precarious at times.
The land we're on, | we rent from a local chieftain,
paid for with the help | of a subsidy from the Crown.
And do you have good relations | with your landlord?
Maianui?
Well, so far. | The threat's not from him.
There are reports | of a warlord out there.
A thorough savage.
He's been launching assaults | against other tribes
and claiming their lands.
Would that be Akatarewa?
You know of him?
I have encountered him | personally, yes.
The young woman | I brought to Epworth,
her husband was slaughtered | at his orders.
Along with many of their tribe.
- When? | - Two days ago.
The Maidenhead | stopped in for repairs.
Then it's true. | He's coming south.
Should Akatarewa | move against Maianui,
this colony's future becomes | uncertain, to say the least.
Please, can we speak | of something else?
Doctor, as a direct result | of that brutal encounter,
the young woman in my care | has a wound.
I'm afraid we have | very limited medical supplies,
and my contract is to minister | to the physical well-being
of the citizens of Epworth.
As yours is to minister to | our spiritual needs, Mr. Munro.
- Goodnight. | - Goodnight.
Good evening, doctor.
My father would not thank me | for telling you this,
but there is someone | who might help you, Mr. Munro.
Mrs. Hegarty?
Mrs. Hegarty, | my name is Thomas Munro.
Excuse me for appearing | at this late hour.
I have a young... I...
I have a young woman | in my care,
a young Maori woman.
I was told you could | perhaps help me.
Is she not well?
She has a wound | which I fear may be infected.
You must leave.
Mrs. Hegarty, thank you. | Please, she's here.
What's she doing here?
Her husband | was killed two days ago
and she was wounded.
Here.
She's been grief stricken.
She also injured herself, | sort of scratching herself.
kiri haehae. | It's a grieving ritual.
Right.
This is Rangimai, | of Ngati Hau.
You know her?
Could you build | the fire up, please?
I've applied a poultice | to draw the infection.
If I'm not here,
you must insist | that she drink this.
I can certainly try,
but she's not been taking | anything directly from me.
Well, she's in mourning, | but you tell her it's kawakawa.
- Kawa kawa? | - Kawakawa.
pia manuka.
- Pia manuka.
- Stay there. | - Stay inside.
That's her father,
Maianui.
He gives her comfort.
Akatarewa's men.
She looks | for her husband's killer.
Rangimai!
Munro, don't.
What did he say?
He wants Rangimai to stay here | and be tutored by you.
He's leaving one of his men
to protect her.
You are clearly held | in some respect by him.
By Maianui, aye. | But not by these fine citizens.
Time to open for business.
Let us begin with a hymn, | "How Firm A Foundation."
- Excellent job, Reverend. | - Thank you.
There's a fierce power | to those old hymnals.
The weight | of a whole civilization.
Are your lodgings | satisfactory?
They are, yes. | Very good.
Should you require anything, | come directly to me.
My door is always open.
Unlike yours, Doctor.
Mr. Munro.
- How do you do, Mrs. Beauchamp? | - Very well, thank you.
Dance.
Dance?
Top of the morning | to you, Mr. Padgett.
Morning.
Half a dozen eggs, | if I may.
I've not seen you | at Chapel lately.
And nor will you. | I'm of the true faith,
not the travesty | you preside over.
I think you'll find | my interpretation of the gospel...
I care not for your interpretation | of the Bible, Mr. Munro.
Nor am I interested | in anyone else's opinion
in this god-forsaken hole. | He promised us opportunity here.
Told us this was | some kind of paradise.
A popular word. | Inevitably a misleading one.
It's a trap, is what it is.
We're thousands of miles from civilization, | clinging to a scrapper beach,
surrounded by savages | of the most barbaric kind.
How else can this end, do you think? | Except in fire and blood.
And yet you seem | to be doing well.
Mark my words, every coin I make | goes towards a passage home.
Rangimai, look.
See all the trees?
They're dancing together | in the wind.
- Dancing? | - Aye.
Look.
Dancing.
Dancing.
Dancing.
Chin up.
And around this way. | Two, three, four...
One, two...
Dancing.
And what is the name | of this child?
Edward Edgar.
Edward Edgar Wallant.
For you, Jesus Christ | came into this world.
For you, he died.
And for you, | he conquered death.
Mr. Munro,
out there, what you do | is your own business,
but not within these walls.
We worship an almighty God, | they pray to leaves and twigs.
Surely if we are | to live alongside them,
- we must involve them... | - Some differences may be
too vast to be reconciled.
Good day, sir.
Children.
...can you give me | a hand over here?
Coming.
Would you like to go?
Yes.
Rangimai.
- I want three... | - Would like...
I would like | three pounds flour.
- Like that, is it? | - Like what?
I'll make it perfectly clear. | I'm serving you, Mr. Munro.
Why is that?
Because if I sell to the natives, | I'll be playing into their hands.
You see that | new building there?
Beauchamp's General Store. | They're trying to drive me out,
but I'll undercut the bastards, | so help me!
And that's double handed.
So make sure | that you lift it up.
All right. Let's go.
Behold.
Is that the extent | of your eloquence, Munro?
The dress is stunning.
You look beautiful, | Rangimai.
My husband loved this dress.
We're very grateful.
I take it you will | not be joining us tonight?
Have a lovely evening.
Thank you, Mrs. Hegarty.
We do not have to stay long.
Good evening, | Mrs. Webster.
Mr. Munro.
- Dance? | - I warn you, I'm not very good.
Rangimai, | your dancing was splendid.
I would like more.
I was under the impression | the savages were out there.
- Munro! | - That an innocent man,
can be set upon | and murdered like a dog!
Murdered? Who?
Pahirua.
We must summon | a magistrate.
And where might | we find this personage?
Strolling in the mountains, | taking in the air?
Do you not understand, Munro?
We are alone here.
Far from it, you fool.
Pahirua was here | under our care and protection.
You think you can just | murder him with impunity?
You can rest assured, Munro, | we will hunt down the culprit
with every resource | at our disposal.
Horace.
We have the culprit.
My sincere condolences.
Padgett.
I done nothing. | Hurt nobody.
- What evidence do you have? | - The man confessed.
After you beat | the words out of him.
We will hold him | till the first ship arrives.
He'll have his trial | in Australia.
Go home.
Can I see him?
Will you be taking him | back to his people?
Then take my horse.
Thank you.
There is no need for you | to accompany us, Mrs. Hegarty.
At journey's end, | you'll need my voice.
And you needn't keep calling me | "Mrs. Hegarty".
Haere.
You should know that
Padgett was found dead | in his cell this morning.
So his injuries were fatal?
He hanged himself.
Actions of a guilty man.
A devotee | of the Church of Rome?
Suicide condemns him | to eternal hell and damnation.
You expect me to believe Padgett | would have chosen that?
I expect you | to report to Maianui
that justice has been done here | on behalf of his people.
I will do no such thing.
You have responsibilities | to this community, Munro.
When will you return?
We paid for your | passage out here.
Built you a chapel, | a cottage to live in.
Surely it's not unreasonable | to expect you to perform
your duties in return!
Munro!
You have a gift.
My mother taught me.
She was gifted.
You mentioned your husband.
He was killed in battle.
I'm sorry.
I don't mean to intrude.
He was a warrior?
When war comes, | they're all warriors.
And how long | did you live among them?
- Some years. | - But you left?
When my husband died, | I had no place.
A pakeha woman alone.
What does this word mean? | "Pakeha"?
Well, it might mean | "white serpent on the water",
or it might mean "enemy".
But it could be a word | the Maori heard the whalers
and sealers calling each other.
"Bugger you."
Haere mai.
Great Maianui...
I have come here
because I feel responsible
for what has happened | to Pahirua.
He says, | "Don't be saddened.
You saved my daughter's life."
"What should I do | with the people of Epworth?"
"Who should I kill?"
They... they pay you, | do they not,
to occupy the land?
Aye.
Perhaps you could | raise their rent.
You know, | that's how they got here.
In a fleet of giant canoes, | just navigating by the stars.
Wondrous.
And the green stone | they're using,
what is that? Jade?
Yes. | They call it "pounamu".
It's highly prized. | They've got many uses.
Tools and weapons | and adornments.
The Maori believe | that it takes on
the spiritual power | of the... the wearer,
and that increases | from generation to generation.
So this is my daughter's.
And your daughter's name?
Mahora.
Brown Bess.
Bess?
Even here, | at the edge of the world.
The British Land Pattern Musket. | Flintlock.
There's a much faster way | of loading these.
Why don't you try?
Haere mai.
Come.
Sit.
"Why did you come here?"
What do they want?
"You're hiding something."
"What's this?"
I...
I was a soldier.
In the British Army.
And we...
I led an attack
on what we believed | to be an enemy stronghold.
Under strict orders | to not show any mercy.
We charged into | thick smoke and confusion.
We could not fire our muskets | because we...
we were unsure | who was friend or foe.
We used sword and knife | at close quarters,
fighting blind, as it were.
Almost by...
by feel.
I... I slashed | and... and stabbed
and I roared like a... | like a beast.
If it wasn't | wearing a red tunic,
I'd kill it.
Eventually the...
the smoke cleared and I... | I could see what I had...
...what I had wrought.
Dead and... and dying...
women and children...
lay all around me...
amongst their warriors.
We... we had attacked | a school...
...where these women | and children were...
...were seeking refuge.
I left the army.
And for years I... | I became a wanderer.
I asked...
God just to | strike me down.
But instead, he...
he sent me here.
"I have killed | women and children.
Women and children | die in war.
What matters most
is who wins."
"Munro, do you seek redemption | as a man of peace?"
"I pity you.
Only blood redeems blood."
I was transported | to Botany Bay,
for stealing flour and yeast.
The Jupiter out of Liverpool.
The crew mutinied,
killed the captain.
All the women were raped
and those who resisted | were killed.
We made landfall | not far from here,
and the crew, the fools,
they encountered | a local hapu.
Just murdered them.
Maianui exacted utu.
The ship was attacked, | ransacked and burnt.
And everyone, | crew and convicts alike...
killed and eaten.
I was spared because
I had saved a warrior | from one of the pigs
who'd oppressed me.
The warrior turned out | to be Maianui's brother.
So I became | one of his wives.
And your daughter?
Mahora?
I'm sure Akatarewa will come, | he'll make no distinction
between adults, children, | men, women.
You fight or you die.
You fight and you die.
And he's of no help.
Oi, lads, | come on, with me.
Kedgley!
Munro.
I see you've broadened | the scale of your ministry.
What are you doing? | Putting a match to tinder?
If they had no muskets, | they'd use spears.
And if they lacked spears, | they'd use stones.
- It's all they know. | - I don't believe that.
Well, it doesn't matter | what you believe.
It matters what he believes.
Time marches on.
The rest, | we give you, next time.
No, no, no, not next time. | You get what you pay for now.
Let me speak | with Akatarewa.
This is the path | to destruction.
These muskets | are just the beginning.
It... | it's what they want.
A war with no end, where... | where all Maori are destroyed.
War is the enemy | of peace.
You and Akatarewa | must make peace.
Otherwise your | children will have no future.
"Why would Akatarewa | listen to you?"
Because I was that enemy.
"Go to Akatarewa."
"Convert him | to your God of Peace.
If you succeed, | I'll follow your god also.
If you return alive."
Maianui is obliged | to consider all his options.
Your God of Peace | may not deliver.
Can you not find it | within yourself
- to have a little faith? | - I have faith, Munro, in you.
But be careful.
Maianui will always act | in the interests of his tribe.
"Beat your ploughshares | into swords
and your pruning hooks | into spears
and the weak will say, | "I am strong."
Joel, chapter three...
- I understand. I understand. | - ...verse ten.
You're on a fool's mission, | Munro.
It cannot be moral | to sell guns to people
who have no history | or experience with such weapons.
Your man Adam Smith would say | that supply will meet demand
and the market | will eventually self-regulate.
What market? | Who will be left alive?
The most able. | That's the way of the world.
It's the way of base nature.
Red in tooth and claw.
Well, to your | good health, Munro.
May it survive | this foolishness.
What are you doing here?
- Has anyone seen you? | - You see me.
Why are you here?
For Akatarewa, from Maianui.
I shall deliver it to him.
Akatarewa will respect | the daughter of Maianui.
Yes, I've seen his respect.
- Is this Akatarewa's? | - Aye.
Bring it about, Mr. Farrell.
Prepare to drop anchor.
We're there.
Now, I want you to stay here | until I return, out of sight.
Do you understand?
- No. I come with you. | - No.
My father wishes...
Your father | never said anything to me.
This is my mission, | my responsibility.
I will not put you at risk.
Look at what happened | to your husband.
haere mai!
Munro.
What business | have you here?
I seek an audience | with your father.
Is this all you have left?
Oh, no, no, there's plenty more | where that came from.
Come.
There you are.
Munro.
I wish you luck | on your moral crusade.
Thank you.
I remember what you | said to me about mercy.
Am I not merciful?
That woman...
Maianui's daughter?
She is alive | because of my mercy.
Yes.
What is your | business here?
- I have come here today... | - Do you want your horse back?
I have come here today | to speak to you
on behalf of Maianui.
He wishes you to know | that he desires peace.
He sends these offerings...
as a token | of his respect for you.
We will make peace | with Maianui...
...through war.
Peace cannot be achieved | through violence.
This is a violent land, | steeped in blood.
- Like England. | - Yes.
You have seen | the white man's world.
You believe you are capable | of defeating them.
There will be too many.
Your only chance | is to face them as one people.
And what of my enemies?
And their insults? | Who will avenge these?
If you kill each other,
you are doing | the pakeha's work for them.
Perhaps you are utu.
Revenge for the pakeha.
Your death | can avenge their crimes.
Beg for your life
and I might show mercy.
I will not.
Munro, look to your horse.
Harris.
They're the same | as the last lot.
- You have more? | - As many as you can pay for.
That's 15 pigs per musket.
- Fifteen? | - Or 200 baskets of potatoes.
- Two hundred? | - Supply and demand, I'm afraid.
You are right to be afraid, | Kedgley.
God, no!
Oh, god.
Come with me.
When you were hiding on the ship, | when you stowed away,
was that always about | revenge for your husband?
- Utu. | - "Utu", what is that?
Revenge, death...
go hand in hand.
You could have been killed.
Tell him about the ship.
It can carry many warriors.
"I have defeated | many with few before."
This ship has | cannon and mortar.
- You will be overwhelmed. | - So... we die...
as warriors.
- You should both leave. | - Wait.
We stand with Ngati Hau.
rahui | has been lifted.
I have been welcomed back | into the hapu.
You also.
Munro?
Here.
Charlotte.
Charlotte.
Munro!
May I present | Uenuku from Ngati Ruapu.
His majesty's representative, | William Cornwall.
Sir.
Allow me to present my wife, | Rangimai of Ngati Hau.
Madam.
And our counsel, | Mr. Thomas Munro.
Munro.
His majesty is aware | of your tribe's
sterling support of Epworth,
and also of the burgeoning | trade routes
you have set in place | up and down this coast.
His majesty wishes me | to offer you his admiration
- for your enterprise. | - Thank you.
Until now, this trade has taken place | without oversight by his majesty.
This meeting is to give you fair warning | that situation is about to change.
His majesty | intends to establish
a Customs and Excise post | here in Epworth
which will oversee trade | in and out of this location.
You may tax trade between | pakeha any way you see fit.
But what has that | to do with us?
Customs and Excise | must apply to all trade.
The king has said this?
I speak for the king.
But your king | has no standing here.
This land belongs to Ngati Hau. | It has been theirs for generations.
They are willing to negotiate. | First and foremost,
would be the rental | to be paid by his majesty
if and when he does establish | a Customs and Excise post here.
What?
We look forward | to further discussion.
Good day, Mr. Cornwall.
Munro?
What on Earth | has befallen you, man?
What have you done | to your face?
My story.
The story of my life...
so far.
Yes.
Well done.
The topgallant's broken!
Easy now. Easy now. | Put him down here.
Stay below, Munro!
Gather round.
I must confess...
I did not know Mr. Ridley well, | but the...
the death of any man | is a sorrow to be mourned.
Mr. Munro...
perhaps you might like | to offer a benediction.
Only those | who have been at sea...
truly grasp | the enormity of this world.
The immense nature | of its vast distances.
It is a frightening thing | to be made so...
closely aware | of one's own insignificance.
Most men would flinch | from this knowledge.
And yet, we are so compelled,
we hurl ourselves | into the vacant spaces of this
profound Earth...
knowing, | even as we do, that...
one day...
at some unforeseen hour...
a great price | may be demanded of us.
Commend now | his everlasting soul
in the name of Jesus Christ, | our savior.
- Amen. | - Amen.
Loose the main sail.
- Stand by to bear away. | - Stand by to bear away!
Come in.
A worthy eulogy for a sailor | lost far from home, Mr. Munro.
Thank you.
Your words and actions | speak of a man
who has seen | something of the world.
I'm from a family | of shipbuilders.
And now you're a minister.
A lay minister. | We lead by example.
Adam Smith.
Yes.
A man of God who reads | of a mercantile world.
Well, you've come | to the right place, Reverend.
There's money to be made | in these outcast corners.
Your new parishioners | have staked their lives on it.
That boy's royalty, | believe it or not.
Son of one of | the paramount chiefs.
His father bade me | to teach him seacraft.
Uenuku.
Mr. Farrell, | give the lad the wheel.
Uenuku, take us | three points to starboard.
Ease her as she pitches.
Very good.
You should be happy, Farrell,
you need never rise | before noon again.
All right, | that's enough.
- Land ho! | - Aye.
Your new home, Mr. Munro.
Never was perdition | so pleasing to the eye.
Are there Maoris in this area?
They're everywhere.
Even when you can't see them, | they're there.
Where's the nearest | safe anchorage?
Uenuku? That bay?
No. That one.
Waikura.
All right, lads, | we'll go ashore,
find some timber, | replace the topgallant.
Go, lads!
Heave!
Well, would you look at that!
That's it, boy.
That's it, boy. Keep going.
Good boy.
You are a lot more entertaining | than my usual cargo, Munro.
There's not half
as many surprises | in a sack of flour.
Yes, quite.
Splendid.
All right, lads, | the show's over.
Come on. One, two, three!
Yes!
Munro, what is that?
It's called a sketch. | And sometimes a portrait.
What is this?
He rei-puta.
A whale tooth.
It's the voice | of my father's god.
I'm named for this god.
Uenuku-kai-tangata.
Admirable.
And... and this?
Toku whakapapa.
It's my story.
The story of my life...
so far.
All right, lads. | Keep your wits about you.
We're here to get timber, | not cause trouble.
It's all right.
Where the hell has he got to?
All right, lads, with me. | Come on.
It's all right. | That's enough.
Everything alright, | Mr. Munro?
I think so.
I asked him | to forgive your trespass.
You meant no disrespect.
Thank you.
You can't trade with people | you can't talk to.
And that we need | wood for repairs.
He wants the horse | as payment for the trees.
Boyd, give him the axe.
Go on, lad.
There. | All friends again.
We should be ready to sail | by tomorrow morning.
I'm thinking I would like | to camp here until then.
Oh, no, no.
Captain, it's been | a long journey.
I need to feel some earth | beneath my feet.
If I'm to live in this country, | I must acquaint myself with it.
I was charged to deliver you | to Epworth. - And you shall.
But firstly, please, | permit me this furlough.
All right.
I'll leave Uenuku with you.
- Good. | - Where is he?
- Harris, where's the boy? | - Sir?
The lad. Where is he?
Uenuku!
Uenuku!
- Fetch the muskets. | - I'm not going into that.
If we don't get him to Epworth, | we don't get paid.
What do you want here?
I ask that you spare | the lives of these people.
These are my people | from these lands, not yours.
They are nothing to you.
I ask that you... | you show them mercy.
You are English.
Your king is George.
King William now.
George is dead?
Yes.
I sat at his table.
We come in peace.
Ketere.
My son learned | much from you.
It was an honor.
This man is my cargo.
I must deliver him | to Epworth.
In a sense.
Very well.
- Go now. | - What about these people?
And what will you trade | for them?
My horse.
My horse for their lives.
One horse, one life.
- Choose. | - I can...
I cannot make that choice.
Please.
Let's go. Now.
Let's go. Now, go!
To hell with this, | Mr. Kedgley.
She can have my cabin.
Come below.
You must not stay up here.
Come. Please.
Please. You need shelter.
Stand by to make sail.
You may rest in here,
and... and sleep.
What are you doing?
No, no, no. | Please, please, please don't.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I will find you some food.
And some water.
That's it. | Up, together.
Mr. Munro.
Horace Beauchamp.
- Welcome to Epworth. | - Thank you.
Her husband was killed.
I have taken her into my care.
Ah, she's fortunate indeed.
Follow me and I'll show you | to your lodgings.
Good luck, Mr. Munro.
If you've come here | to rinse souls for Jesus,
you're going to be busy.
Help here, | Mr. Goldsworth.
Here we are, Mr. Munro.
- Thank you, Mr. Beauchamp. | - You're very welcome.
I'll leave you | to attend to your ward.
Please.
Morning!
Yeah, give me a hand | over here, yeah.
And behold, ye are this day, | as the stars of heaven...
Mr. Munro,
what a pleasure to find | you already hard at work.
Reginald de Buin.
- We've corresponded. | - Yes, of course.
How do you do?
Not exactly Saint Paul's, | but you'll make something of it.
I shall do my best.
Would you care to join us | tonight for dinner?
That is most kind.
Are you unwell?
Sorry.
It's all right.
What part of the south | are you from, Mr. Munro?
The southeast coast, Hastings, | but I mostly grew up in London.
My father was a shipwright
and wanted to make his name | in the capital.
Well, did he?
No, he slowly | murdered himself with drink.
And what do you make | of Epworth, sir?
It feels a little like | a sculpture
in its early stages.
Its true form not yet emerged | from the stone.
Beautifully put, sir.
Everything is in place.
The land is rich.
The opportunity | is immeasurable.
Indeed, even if it seems | somewhat precarious at times.
The land we're on, | we rent from a local chieftain,
paid for with the help | of a subsidy from the Crown.
And do you have good relations | with your landlord?
Maianui?
Well, so far. | The threat's not from him.
There are reports | of a warlord out there.
A thorough savage.
He's been launching assaults | against other tribes
and claiming their lands.
Would that be Akatarewa?
You know of him?
I have encountered him | personally, yes.
The young woman | I brought to Epworth,
her husband was slaughtered | at his orders.
Along with many of their tribe.
- When? | - Two days ago.
The Maidenhead | stopped in for repairs.
Then it's true. | He's coming south.
Should Akatarewa | move against Maianui,
this colony's future becomes | uncertain, to say the least.
Please, can we speak | of something else?
Doctor, as a direct result | of that brutal encounter,
the young woman in my care | has a wound.
I'm afraid we have | very limited medical supplies,
and my contract is to minister | to the physical well-being
of the citizens of Epworth.
As yours is to minister to | our spiritual needs, Mr. Munro.
- Goodnight. | - Goodnight.
Good evening, doctor.
My father would not thank me | for telling you this,
but there is someone | who might help you, Mr. Munro.
Mrs. Hegarty?
Mrs. Hegarty, | my name is Thomas Munro.
Excuse me for appearing | at this late hour.
I have a young... I...
I have a young woman | in my care,
a young Maori woman.
I was told you could | perhaps help me.
Is she not well?
She has a wound | which I fear may be infected.
You must leave.
Mrs. Hegarty, thank you. | Please, she's here.
What's she doing here?
Her husband | was killed two days ago
and she was wounded.
Here.
She's been grief stricken.
She also injured herself, | sort of scratching herself.
kiri haehae. | It's a grieving ritual.
Right.
This is Rangimai, | of Ngati Hau.
You know her?
Could you build | the fire up, please?
I've applied a poultice | to draw the infection.
If I'm not here,
you must insist | that she drink this.
I can certainly try,
but she's not been taking | anything directly from me.
Well, she's in mourning, | but you tell her it's kawakawa.
- Kawa kawa? | - Kawakawa.
pia manuka.
- Pia manuka.
- Stay there. | - Stay inside.
That's her father,
Maianui.
He gives her comfort.
Akatarewa's men.
She looks | for her husband's killer.
Rangimai!
Munro, don't.
What did he say?
He wants Rangimai to stay here | and be tutored by you.
He's leaving one of his men
to protect her.
You are clearly held | in some respect by him.
By Maianui, aye. | But not by these fine citizens.
Time to open for business.
Let us begin with a hymn, | "How Firm A Foundation."
- Excellent job, Reverend. | - Thank you.
There's a fierce power | to those old hymnals.
The weight | of a whole civilization.
Are your lodgings | satisfactory?
They are, yes. | Very good.
Should you require anything, | come directly to me.
My door is always open.
Unlike yours, Doctor.
Mr. Munro.
- How do you do, Mrs. Beauchamp? | - Very well, thank you.
Dance.
Dance?
Top of the morning | to you, Mr. Padgett.
Morning.
Half a dozen eggs, | if I may.
I've not seen you | at Chapel lately.
And nor will you. | I'm of the true faith,
not the travesty | you preside over.
I think you'll find | my interpretation of the gospel...
I care not for your interpretation | of the Bible, Mr. Munro.
Nor am I interested | in anyone else's opinion
in this god-forsaken hole. | He promised us opportunity here.
Told us this was | some kind of paradise.
A popular word. | Inevitably a misleading one.
It's a trap, is what it is.
We're thousands of miles from civilization, | clinging to a scrapper beach,
surrounded by savages | of the most barbaric kind.
How else can this end, do you think? | Except in fire and blood.
And yet you seem | to be doing well.
Mark my words, every coin I make | goes towards a passage home.
Rangimai, look.
See all the trees?
They're dancing together | in the wind.
- Dancing? | - Aye.
Look.
Dancing.
Dancing.
Dancing.
Chin up.
And around this way. | Two, three, four...
One, two...
Dancing.
And what is the name | of this child?
Edward Edgar.
Edward Edgar Wallant.
For you, Jesus Christ | came into this world.
For you, he died.
And for you, | he conquered death.
Mr. Munro,
out there, what you do | is your own business,
but not within these walls.
We worship an almighty God, | they pray to leaves and twigs.
Surely if we are | to live alongside them,
- we must involve them... | - Some differences may be
too vast to be reconciled.
Good day, sir.
Children.
...can you give me | a hand over here?
Coming.
Would you like to go?
Yes.
Rangimai.
- I want three... | - Would like...
I would like | three pounds flour.
- Like that, is it? | - Like what?
I'll make it perfectly clear. | I'm serving you, Mr. Munro.
Why is that?
Because if I sell to the natives, | I'll be playing into their hands.
You see that | new building there?
Beauchamp's General Store. | They're trying to drive me out,
but I'll undercut the bastards, | so help me!
And that's double handed.
So make sure | that you lift it up.
All right. Let's go.
Behold.
Is that the extent | of your eloquence, Munro?
The dress is stunning.
You look beautiful, | Rangimai.
My husband loved this dress.
We're very grateful.
I take it you will | not be joining us tonight?
Have a lovely evening.
Thank you, Mrs. Hegarty.
We do not have to stay long.
Good evening, | Mrs. Webster.
Mr. Munro.
- Dance? | - I warn you, I'm not very good.
Rangimai, | your dancing was splendid.
I would like more.
I was under the impression | the savages were out there.
- Munro! | - That an innocent man,
can be set upon | and murdered like a dog!
Murdered? Who?
Pahirua.
We must summon | a magistrate.
And where might | we find this personage?
Strolling in the mountains, | taking in the air?
Do you not understand, Munro?
We are alone here.
Far from it, you fool.
Pahirua was here | under our care and protection.
You think you can just | murder him with impunity?
You can rest assured, Munro, | we will hunt down the culprit
with every resource | at our disposal.
Horace.
We have the culprit.
My sincere condolences.
Padgett.
I done nothing. | Hurt nobody.
- What evidence do you have? | - The man confessed.
After you beat | the words out of him.
We will hold him | till the first ship arrives.
He'll have his trial | in Australia.
Go home.
Can I see him?
Will you be taking him | back to his people?
Then take my horse.
Thank you.
There is no need for you | to accompany us, Mrs. Hegarty.
At journey's end, | you'll need my voice.
And you needn't keep calling me | "Mrs. Hegarty".
Haere.
You should know that
Padgett was found dead | in his cell this morning.
So his injuries were fatal?
He hanged himself.
Actions of a guilty man.
A devotee | of the Church of Rome?
Suicide condemns him | to eternal hell and damnation.
You expect me to believe Padgett | would have chosen that?
I expect you | to report to Maianui
that justice has been done here | on behalf of his people.
I will do no such thing.
You have responsibilities | to this community, Munro.
When will you return?
We paid for your | passage out here.
Built you a chapel, | a cottage to live in.
Surely it's not unreasonable | to expect you to perform
your duties in return!
Munro!
You have a gift.
My mother taught me.
She was gifted.
You mentioned your husband.
He was killed in battle.
I'm sorry.
I don't mean to intrude.
He was a warrior?
When war comes, | they're all warriors.
And how long | did you live among them?
- Some years. | - But you left?
When my husband died, | I had no place.
A pakeha woman alone.
What does this word mean? | "Pakeha"?
Well, it might mean | "white serpent on the water",
or it might mean "enemy".
But it could be a word | the Maori heard the whalers
and sealers calling each other.
"Bugger you."
Haere mai.
Great Maianui...
I have come here
because I feel responsible
for what has happened | to Pahirua.
He says, | "Don't be saddened.
You saved my daughter's life."
"What should I do | with the people of Epworth?"
"Who should I kill?"
They... they pay you, | do they not,
to occupy the land?
Aye.
Perhaps you could | raise their rent.
You know, | that's how they got here.
In a fleet of giant canoes, | just navigating by the stars.
Wondrous.
And the green stone | they're using,
what is that? Jade?
Yes. | They call it "pounamu".
It's highly prized. | They've got many uses.
Tools and weapons | and adornments.
The Maori believe | that it takes on
the spiritual power | of the... the wearer,
and that increases | from generation to generation.
So this is my daughter's.
And your daughter's name?
Mahora.
Brown Bess.
Bess?
Even here, | at the edge of the world.
The British Land Pattern Musket. | Flintlock.
There's a much faster way | of loading these.
Why don't you try?
Haere mai.
Come.
Sit.
"Why did you come here?"
What do they want?
"You're hiding something."
"What's this?"
I...
I was a soldier.
In the British Army.
And we...
I led an attack
on what we believed | to be an enemy stronghold.
Under strict orders | to not show any mercy.
We charged into | thick smoke and confusion.
We could not fire our muskets | because we...
we were unsure | who was friend or foe.
We used sword and knife | at close quarters,
fighting blind, as it were.
Almost by...
by feel.
I... I slashed | and... and stabbed
and I roared like a... | like a beast.
If it wasn't | wearing a red tunic,
I'd kill it.
Eventually the...
the smoke cleared and I... | I could see what I had...
...what I had wrought.
Dead and... and dying...
women and children...
lay all around me...
amongst their warriors.
We... we had attacked | a school...
...where these women | and children were...
...were seeking refuge.
I left the army.
And for years I... | I became a wanderer.
I asked...
God just to | strike me down.
But instead, he...
he sent me here.
"I have killed | women and children.
Women and children | die in war.
What matters most
is who wins."
"Munro, do you seek redemption | as a man of peace?"
"I pity you.
Only blood redeems blood."
I was transported | to Botany Bay,
for stealing flour and yeast.
The Jupiter out of Liverpool.
The crew mutinied,
killed the captain.
All the women were raped
and those who resisted | were killed.
We made landfall | not far from here,
and the crew, the fools,
they encountered | a local hapu.
Just murdered them.
Maianui exacted utu.
The ship was attacked, | ransacked and burnt.
And everyone, | crew and convicts alike...
killed and eaten.
I was spared because
I had saved a warrior | from one of the pigs
who'd oppressed me.
The warrior turned out | to be Maianui's brother.
So I became | one of his wives.
And your daughter?
Mahora?
I'm sure Akatarewa will come, | he'll make no distinction
between adults, children, | men, women.
You fight or you die.
You fight and you die.
And he's of no help.
Oi, lads, | come on, with me.
Kedgley!
Munro.
I see you've broadened | the scale of your ministry.
What are you doing? | Putting a match to tinder?
If they had no muskets, | they'd use spears.
And if they lacked spears, | they'd use stones.
- It's all they know. | - I don't believe that.
Well, it doesn't matter | what you believe.
It matters what he believes.
Time marches on.
The rest, | we give you, next time.
No, no, no, not next time. | You get what you pay for now.
Let me speak | with Akatarewa.
This is the path | to destruction.
These muskets | are just the beginning.
It... | it's what they want.
A war with no end, where... | where all Maori are destroyed.
War is the enemy | of peace.
You and Akatarewa | must make peace.
Otherwise your | children will have no future.
"Why would Akatarewa | listen to you?"
Because I was that enemy.
"Go to Akatarewa."
"Convert him | to your God of Peace.
If you succeed, | I'll follow your god also.
If you return alive."
Maianui is obliged | to consider all his options.
Your God of Peace | may not deliver.
Can you not find it | within yourself
- to have a little faith? | - I have faith, Munro, in you.
But be careful.
Maianui will always act | in the interests of his tribe.
"Beat your ploughshares | into swords
and your pruning hooks | into spears
and the weak will say, | "I am strong."
Joel, chapter three...
- I understand. I understand. | - ...verse ten.
You're on a fool's mission, | Munro.
It cannot be moral | to sell guns to people
who have no history | or experience with such weapons.
Your man Adam Smith would say | that supply will meet demand
and the market | will eventually self-regulate.
What market? | Who will be left alive?
The most able. | That's the way of the world.
It's the way of base nature.
Red in tooth and claw.
Well, to your | good health, Munro.
May it survive | this foolishness.
What are you doing here?
- Has anyone seen you? | - You see me.
Why are you here?
For Akatarewa, from Maianui.
I shall deliver it to him.
Akatarewa will respect | the daughter of Maianui.
Yes, I've seen his respect.
- Is this Akatarewa's? | - Aye.
Bring it about, Mr. Farrell.
Prepare to drop anchor.
We're there.
Now, I want you to stay here | until I return, out of sight.
Do you understand?
- No. I come with you. | - No.
My father wishes...
Your father | never said anything to me.
This is my mission, | my responsibility.
I will not put you at risk.
Look at what happened | to your husband.
haere mai!
Munro.
What business | have you here?
I seek an audience | with your father.
Is this all you have left?
Oh, no, no, there's plenty more | where that came from.
Come.
There you are.
Munro.
I wish you luck | on your moral crusade.
Thank you.
I remember what you | said to me about mercy.
Am I not merciful?
That woman...
Maianui's daughter?
She is alive | because of my mercy.
Yes.
What is your | business here?
- I have come here today... | - Do you want your horse back?
I have come here today | to speak to you
on behalf of Maianui.
He wishes you to know | that he desires peace.
He sends these offerings...
as a token | of his respect for you.
We will make peace | with Maianui...
...through war.
Peace cannot be achieved | through violence.
This is a violent land, | steeped in blood.
- Like England. | - Yes.
You have seen | the white man's world.
You believe you are capable | of defeating them.
There will be too many.
Your only chance | is to face them as one people.
And what of my enemies?
And their insults? | Who will avenge these?
If you kill each other,
you are doing | the pakeha's work for them.
Perhaps you are utu.
Revenge for the pakeha.
Your death | can avenge their crimes.
Beg for your life
and I might show mercy.
I will not.
Munro, look to your horse.
Harris.
They're the same | as the last lot.
- You have more? | - As many as you can pay for.
That's 15 pigs per musket.
- Fifteen? | - Or 200 baskets of potatoes.
- Two hundred? | - Supply and demand, I'm afraid.
You are right to be afraid, | Kedgley.
God, no!
Oh, god.
Come with me.
When you were hiding on the ship, | when you stowed away,
was that always about | revenge for your husband?
- Utu. | - "Utu", what is that?
Revenge, death...
go hand in hand.
You could have been killed.
Tell him about the ship.
It can carry many warriors.
"I have defeated | many with few before."
This ship has | cannon and mortar.
- You will be overwhelmed. | - So... we die...
as warriors.
- You should both leave. | - Wait.
We stand with Ngati Hau.
rahui | has been lifted.
I have been welcomed back | into the hapu.
You also.
Munro?
Here.
Charlotte.
Charlotte.
Munro!
May I present | Uenuku from Ngati Ruapu.
His majesty's representative, | William Cornwall.
Sir.
Allow me to present my wife, | Rangimai of Ngati Hau.
Madam.
And our counsel, | Mr. Thomas Munro.
Munro.
His majesty is aware | of your tribe's
sterling support of Epworth,
and also of the burgeoning | trade routes
you have set in place | up and down this coast.
His majesty wishes me | to offer you his admiration
- for your enterprise. | - Thank you.
Until now, this trade has taken place | without oversight by his majesty.
This meeting is to give you fair warning | that situation is about to change.
His majesty | intends to establish
a Customs and Excise post | here in Epworth
which will oversee trade | in and out of this location.
You may tax trade between | pakeha any way you see fit.
But what has that | to do with us?
Customs and Excise | must apply to all trade.
The king has said this?
I speak for the king.
But your king | has no standing here.
This land belongs to Ngati Hau. | It has been theirs for generations.
They are willing to negotiate. | First and foremost,
would be the rental | to be paid by his majesty
if and when he does establish | a Customs and Excise post here.
What?
We look forward | to further discussion.
Good day, Mr. Cornwall.
Munro?
What on Earth | has befallen you, man?
What have you done | to your face?
My story.
The story of my life...
so far.
Yes.
Well done.