Anne of the Indies

Synopsis: LaRochelle, a former pirate captain, is caught by the British. To get his ship back, he works as a spy against other pirates, first of all Blackbeard and Providence. He works on some ships, crossing the Caribbean sea, with the intention of being enchained, when a pirate ship is in sight, to make them believe he's an enemy of the British. One day, his ship is conquered by Captain Providence. What nobody knew before, Providence is a (beautiful, of course) woman. She believes his story and so he joins her crew. But Blackbeard, her fatherly friend, doesn't believe him. Providence and LaRochelle fall in love, although he is married. When LaRochelle tries to deliver her to the British, she forebodes the trap, kidnaps his wife and escapes. As for revenge, she wants to sell his wife on a slave-market. LaRochell gets his ship and his crew back and follows her. ...
Director(s): Jacques Tourneur
Production: Twentieth Century Fox
 
IMDB:
6.7
NOT RATED
Year:
1951
81 min
24 Views

Royal Charles, three hundred tons.

John Haislip, Master.

Taken and burned off Barbados

by Captain Providence.

All hands believed lost.

Sea Lady, two hundred and fifty tons.

Edward Parrott, Master.

Taken of the Carolinas

by Captain Providence.

Man the guns!

Man the guns! Get them ready!

It's the 'Sheba Queen'.

Prepare to repel an attack.

Load the guns! Fire!

Quarter! Quarter!

I've struck my flag!

Did you care for all

the wounded, Doctor?

All but you, Captain.

Take off your coat.

A good purchase.

It'll keep these swine in rum

and wenches for a year.

And for some sleeping

room with the sharks.

We have twelve dead.

The greater the shares for the living.

We shall miss our sailing master.

Lucky the blood vessels are not touched.

It's a scratch, no more.

You will bear a scar.

I bear many scars from the English.

This one will mar your beauty.

Save that for the wenches.

Does it hurt?

No.

To show pain is natural.

We're all born with a capacity for it.

I choose not to show it.

Nor pity.

You quite finished?

-Yes.

Come on deck.

Perhaps the sight will

put some iron in your soul.

Only rum will do that now, my dear.

Is this the mercy of buccaneers?

I learned my mercy

from the English, Captain.

I struck my flag thinking

to receive quarter.

So did my brother when

he was overwhelmed.

And did you English show him quarter?

No, you hanged him in chains

on the wharf at Port Royal...

...and spit in his face.

I know nothing about your brother.

You're not the first Englishmen

who has learned of him.

If you have any last words,

Captain, say them now.

If he was a pirate, he

deserved the end he got...

...as you will deserve yours.

God save the King.

By the veins of your nose, you

have drunk your king often in wine.

Now drink him in salt water.

Come on, get him over!

Why is this one in irons?

We found him so in the fore

peak of the merchantman.

A prisoner of the English?

Then he's no friend of

theirs. Bring him here.

Your name?

-Pierre Franois.

You have the advantage of me.

I am Captain Providence.

You are?

Charmed, Miss.

My title is Captain.

Charmed, Captain.

Why were you aboard the English ship?

I was their guest, Captain.

I was being sent to England for trial.

What was your offence?

I captured too many of their ships.

You dare to call yourself a buccaneer?

Nothing so exalted, Captain.

Merely a privateers man.

Privateers man?

A buccaneer who lacks the tripes

to call himself by this true name.

What was your ship?

The 'Molly O'Brien'.

That's an Irish name.

The Irish, like we French...

...have little reasons

to love the English.

Do you know of such a ship?

Yes, Captain. I know of one such, she's

a privateer, Bordeaux registry...

...with letter's of marque to

prey upon English shipping.

Who named her that?

-I did.

Among the French, is it the cabin

boys who name their ships?

I was owner and master.

Big Belly.

Wait! I'm questioning him.

And he's right, you stuff

yourself like a pig.

You say you were master.

Are you a sea artist?

I can navigate.

I need a sailing master.

But, Captain...

Have you the stomach to join us?

It's not too great a step from

privateers man to honest buccaneer.

We know nothing of this swab.

Stow your breeze, Big Belly.

Well, Mister?

My choice is between

joining your company...

...and walking your plank.

It is.

Then it isn't too hard a choice to make.

I'm fond of life.

Have him sing the articles.

A mate's share for all future purchases.

Aye, Captain.

All hands stand to!

I mind well the 'Molly O'Brien'.

The English took her

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