Captain Blood

Dr. Blood!

Who is it?

That we'll know better

when you've opened the door.

Me?

My mistake. After I've opened the door.

Open it, quick!

Why, Jeremy Pitt, isn't it?

It's your friend, Lord Gildoy, wounded

at Andrew Baynes' farm by the river.

-The rash fool.

-He sent me for you. No time to lose.

Why, to be sure, I'll lose none,

nor my head either.

Come in and regain yours

while I get my things.

-I'll wait here.

-As you please.

Come, Mrs. Barlow, help me dress.

Jeremy, how was the battle?

Battle? Slaughter, rather!

What can clubs do against cannon?

In case this business keeps me overlong,

take care you water my geraniums...

especially those

under the bedroom window.

Geraniums. Won't you ever grow up?

One would think you were still

at medical school.

Geraniums!

You would think of geraniums...

when every other able-bodied man

is out fighting.

It's out of favor I seem to be with you,

my vinegary virgin.

-Half the town is saying you're a papist.

-Why?

Because I have the sense to sleep tonight

instead of rushing to my ruin...

in an attempt to put

this Duke of Monmouth on the throne?

He'd be even worse than King James.

Make haste with that cloak there,

my pretty one.

And the other half of the town

that defends you...

claims that you're just a coward.

Mrs. Barlow, my darling,

you can tell them, if you like...

that I've been most anywhere

that fighting was in evidence.

Fought for the French against the Spanish,

and the Spanish against the French...

and I learned my seamanship

in the Dutch Navy.

But having had adventure enough

in six years to last me six lives...

I came here, hung up the sword,

and picked up the lancet.

Became a man of peace and not of war.

A healer, not a slayer...

and that I am going to be as long as

I'm on top of the sod and not under it.

-Will you be back for breakfast?

-Who knows, my pretty one?

The worst is done, my friend.

Give your mind peace.

The King's men!

There's nothing to fear.

This is a Christian country.

Christian men don't make war

on the wounded...

or those who shelter them.

I'm Capt. Hobart of Col. Kirke's dragoons.

What rebels do you harbor?

No rebels. This wounded gentleman--

No need to ask

how he came by his wounds.

A rebel. Out with him.

This man can't be moved

without peril to his life.

Who the devil may you be?

Peter Blood, Medicinae Baccalaureus.

Don't fling your French at me.

Latin, my dull friend.

lt means I'm a doctor.

Or a liar.

lf your wit were as big as your voice,

it's the great man you'd be for this.

You may find me great enough

to hang you!

Yes, I don't doubt it.

You've the looks and manners

of a hangman.

Take him away, and the others, too!

''ln the name of His Majesty,

Our Sovereign Lord...

''prisoners of the Crown,

you stand indicted...

''for having maliciously

and traitorously conspired...

''to change, alter, and wholly to subvert

the ancient government...

''of this Kingdom of England.

''Therefore, you are charged

with high treason...

''against the most illustrious

and most excellent...

''Prince James II by the grace of God...

''of England, Scotland, France,

and Ireland, King.

''Having no fear of God in your hearts...

''and being moved

and seduced by the devil...

''you have failed in the love

of due obedience toward the King...

''and have moved to disturb

the tranquility of the nation...

''and to stir up war to depose said king

from title...

''honor, and the regal name

of the imperial crown.

''Therefore, you are here to be tried

before His Majesty's Commissioner...

''the Lord Chief Justice,

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