01x01 - Blood Calls Blood

[bunniefuu]

Sara!

Open the door!

Stop it!

Robert, you're not well!

I need the boy!

No!

Don't let him in.

Don't let him in

No!

- Stop!

- Run!

Charles.

Charles

Charles!

Christ in quiet,

Christ in danger,

Christ in mouth

of friend and stranger.

No!

No, Father, no!

No!

Father, no, no!

Father, stop! Wait!

Father!

On your knees, Charles.

No! Father!

You're not well!

It's coming.

The worm.

I can't stop it.

Father, why?

Blood calls blood, son.

No!

You have to go, Charles,

far away,

and never return.

Truly, truly, I say to you,

he who believes in Him

who sent Me

has eternal life

and does not come

into judgement

but has passed out of death

into life.

Charles,

have you thought about it?

A ship is no place

to raise children,

especially our girls.

You never felt

that way before.

It's different now.

The children will need a home,

and school.

Structure.

I know

what you're afraid of,

but you are not your father.

You will know what to do.

God sent us a gift

in your cousin's letter.

"And whosoever liveth

and believeth in me

shall never die."

Captain.

Is there something

you'd like to add?

Set course for New London.

Blood calls blood.

Here we go.

It's okay, Tane.

There's no scratching.

There's nothing

to be afraid of. Okay?

Trouble sleeping?

Tane's scared.

He heard scratching on the hull.

He thinks Mother wants

to come back aboard.

What if we put her

in the water alive?

I assure you, son,

we didn't.

Loa?

She hasn't spoken all day.

Children, uh

I have something

to share.

We've inherited a sawmill

and a house in Maine

from my cousin Stephen,

a man I barely knew.

He said he wanted to heal

an old rift in our family.

Even has a name:

Chapelwaite.

We're getting off the ocean?

Aye.

Your mother thought it best.

You said it was a house.

This is a mansion.

How rich was your family?

It's twice as big as a whaler!

What do you think, Loa?

I hardly know what to say

myself.

You must be Charles Boone,

the sea captain?

- I am.

- I'm Mrs. Cloris,

the former housekeeper

of Chapelwaite.

Stephen's executor asked me

to greet you

and give you these papers

for the house and mill.

Well, thank you.

I'm afraid my absence

has left the house

victim to vandals.

Though it would seem

nothing was taken.

Well. These are my children

Honor. Loa. Tane.

Is there a Mrs. Boone

coming?

My wife passed

eight months ago.

Children, go on.

Go explore.

- Honor, look!

- Look at the staircase.

You knew

my cousin Stephen then.

Since he was a baby.

His father,

Phillip, hired me.

I considered Stephen my own.

How did he die?

Grief.

We all carry grief.

It's rarely fatal.

Stephen's daughter, Marcella,

meant everything to him.

She fell down the cellar stairs.

Broke her back into pieces.

Stephen found the child

and never recovered.

The door to the cellar

is in the kitchen.

You'll find it locked. I

recommend you keep it that way.

The stairs are dangerous.

It's no place for children.

Mrs. Cloris,

in case you'd like to stay on,

we're in need of a governess.

Thank you,

but I have no interest

in being

in this house any longer.

- If it's money

- It's not.

I'll ask in town and return

with a few girls to clean.

I owe Stephen that much.

Preacher's Corners is an hour

east down the Post Road.

You'll find all manner

of provisions there.

Whip-poor-wills.

I've never seen them

during the day.

Tsk

sh*t.

That's cousin Stephen.

I recognize him.

Who's the little girl?

She must be Marcella.

Stephen's daughter.

Shouldn't this house be hers?

She passed away.

And that's Stephen's father,

Uncle Phillip.

Ah, he was a stern man.

They came to visit us

once in Massachusetts.

They had wealth, standing.

Stephen was always nice to me.

When they left, I

I wanted to leave with them.

How did they make

their fortune?

My great-grandfather James

used to mine copper

in the hills around here.

My grandmother Silence

built upon that with lumber.

How come you never talk

about your father?

He was a

peculiar man, my father.

Nothing more worth mentioning.

Come, let's explore the rest

of the house, shall we?

Children?

I'm just stowing

some things down in the cellar.

Those stairs aren't safe.

No one goes down there.

Understand?

- Tane?

- Yes, sir.

Mrs. Cloris left us some food.

Chicken and a loaf of bread.

Oh, bless you, Mrs. Cloris.

I think we're going

to like it here.

I wish Mom could have seen

this house.

I do, too.

What do you think, Loa?

Would your mother approve?

Well.

You may be right.

She would've found Chapelwaite

extravagant.

I agree with that, but, uh,

I'm proud of it, too.

It's, uh

it's a symbol of

Boone industry and success.

What do you need, Loa?

I'm afraid we have rats.

They're being clever now.

They know we're onto them.

Any luck?

It's a bit confusing, sir.

I didn't see no crappin's,

no holes.

Just a couple

a dried-up carcasses.

Well, we have rats,

Mr. Fletcher, I assure you.

Maybe set those upstairs.

All right.

Honor! Loa!

I guess

this is where you go

after the portrait gallery.

Shouldn't they be

in a cemetery?

Not necessarily.

This was their home.

They loved it and wanted

to be buried here;

It's their choice.

I don't like it.

Come.

Let's go to town.

How's the writing coming?

I've got

a hundred bad ideas

and not a single good one.

Emerson writes

for the Atlantic Monthly.

So do Longfellow and Stowe.

Who am I?

Rebecca Morgan,

and you're a writer.

You always have been.

I believe in you;

So does this editor,

Mr. Lowell.

Yeah, but an entire story

in only four weeks?

It's too much pressure.

I'm making a coffin liner

for the Albrikes family.

Old Gerald succumbed

to the illness yesterday.

Maybe you should

write about that?

Are those the new Boones?

Good day.

I'll meet you back

at the house, Mother.

- Please.

- No, Rebecca, wait!

Have faith, Rose.

Edward.

Your daughter will pull through.

With all respect, Minister,

your wife lost two of her own.

Treating illness with faith

doesn't give me much comfort.

What does "quarantine" mean?

"Quarantine" means there's

someone very sick inside.

Well, what do we have here?

I don't know what they are.

They sure ain't white.

Probably fled the reservation.

Was he talking about us?

- He was.

- Why?

Well, because

because you don't look like him.

He wants you to feel embarrassed

about being different.

Now, if everyone's finished

shopping,

let's meet

in front of the bakery.

Can we each get a cookie?

You can each have two. Go.

Good day. May I speak with

the constable, please?

George!

Someone to see you.

Constable.

My name is Charles Boone.

Is it?

Yes.

Um, my family and I moved

into our home yesterday

at Chapelwaite

and, um, we found it ransacked.

Floors were torn up,

the furniture broken.

People here don't like

Chapelwaite, Mr. Boone.

So they're free

to vandalize it?

If I were you,

I would sell the mill.

Take what you can and go.

Well, I have other plans.

You might think twice

with children.

What's going on here,

constable?

Your family has a reputation,

Mr. Boone.

Stephen was a part of that,

as was his father Phillip.

They were strange,

unpredictable men.

Not good people.

I'm afraid you'll find few

friends in Preacher's Corners.

They practically

threw a parade

when your cousin

hanged himself.

Tane.

What are you doing?

There's a ball.

Come out of there.

Someone k*lled my bunny.

Did you do this?

No!

Father gave her to me

when I got sick.

- You're sick?

- Tane! Come here!

- What's wrong with her?

- I don't know.

Stay back.

She's not well.

- Oh, Susan!

- Stay away, kids.

You are not to be out.

You know that.

What is it, boy?

Mr. Boone?

The girls have finished

cleaning.

Thank you.

Um Have you spoken

with the girls

about the governess position?

I have.

None are inclined.

Mrs. Cloris.

You said that

Stephen died of grief.

I would have preferred

you were more specific.

If you heard Stephen took

his own life, that's true.

I was only trying

to protect his reputation.

Thank you for that.

This is a sad house, Captain.

No Boone has ever

been happy here.

Well, we'll be the first.

Can I help you?

Mr. Boone,

my name is Rebecca Morgan.

I hear you're looking

for a governess.

We are. Are you experienced

with children?

I was one myself once.

But I also lived with a family

while studying in Massachusetts.

I helped with the children

in exchange for room and board.

Wonderful.

Well, please come in.

I must warn you,

my two daughters and son all

have equal say in who we hire.

And another part of my job

would be to supplement

your education.

If you've never been

to school,

you may benefit from a bit

of extra tutoring.

Mother taught us mathematics

and how to read.

Oh, you learned from the Bible?

She did. We read the Brontes

and Hawthorne.

And "The Three Musketeers."

"Never fear quarrels,

but seek hazardous adventures."

I believe you and I may share

the same adventurous spirit.

There are subjects

to explore

that you may not be exposed

to in Preacher's Corners.

Philosophy, art, music.

I learned those at college.

I didn't know

women could go to college.

They can.

I went to Mount Holyoke

in Massachusetts.

How about we make a deal?

I'll introduce you

to some of the things

I learned in college

and you can teach me

about your culture

and all the wonders

you've seen.

I hope I have the opportunity

to get to know you all better.

Father?

Come in.

- Well?

- I don't think Loa wants her.

Loa?

You have a say in this.

Just have to voice it.

All aye?

Aye.

All opposed?

Well, the ayes have it.

Thank you

for the opportunity.

And I'll return in the morning

with my things.

My kids, uh,

they know books and ships,

but they'll require more help

than they think navigating land.

Um, Mr. Boone,

your daughter Loa.

- The quiet one

- She speaks.

Not since her mother passed.

I imagine she will

when she's ready.

I should accompany you.

- It's it's late.

- Oh, I'm fine.

Whip-poor-wills.

- Good night, Mr. Boone.

- Good night.

The chant

of the whip-poor-will

is the voice

with which the man

and the house call her.

An omen of death, they say.

Flee the nightjars' cry

or risk

Rebecca.

I want to talk to you.

- It's late, Mother.

- I know where you were.

I've been hired as the

new governess of Chapelwaite.

Why would you do that? You

I sent you to college

so you could make

something of yourself.

You you have an assignment

for the Atlantic Monthly.

Don't squander this opportunity.

I'm not.

I already telegraphed my idea

to Mr. Lowell

and he approved it.

There's only one good story

in town, Mother.

Rebecca,

you do not want to

make trouble with that family.

You may not believe everything

that's said,

but you'd be a fool

to ignore it. Your father

Father was

Phillip Boones' lawyer

and he lived in fear

of the man. I am aware.

You have to trust me.

I know what I'm doing.

Good night, Mother.

Excuse me, young man,

what's your name?

Able Stewart.

You've been keeping the ledger

since my cousin's death.

You must be

the new Mr. Boone.

- I am.

- It's nice to meet you, sir.

Pleasure to meet you.

I've tried keeping

the records best I can.

Sorry 'bout my writin'.

I taught myself.

Well, I appreciate

your efforts.

Which one of these men

is Daniel Thompson?

It's the large man

on the right.

Good.

Foreman, uh, Daniel Thompson.

That's me.

I run this crew of vagabonds.

You're the Captain?

Uh, "Mr. Boone" will do.

According to the ledger,

board feet are down 60%

since my cousin's passing.

Why aren't these men

out working?

Well, they were.

This is our break.

It's also noted that, uh,

everyone has seen

a wage increase

all except

for Able Stewart here.

Why is that?

I really couldn't tell you

now.

What's this?

Your severance.

Take it and leave.

Or cut me 600 board feet

by end of today

and every day hereafter.

That an order, "Captain"?

I give orders at sea.

On land I give choices.

Listen clearly, now.

I have plans for this mill.

We're expanding.

From here out,

we run this mill like a whaler.

Profit is gonna be divided

into a 100-part lay.

Loggers earn two parts.

Foreman three.

Owner takes 30.

The more you cut,

the more you earn.

Questions?

Well, then, get to work.

What's the lay

for the tool keep, sir?

One lay.

Add another two

for keeping the ledger.

I noticed some unpaid bills

charged to Jerusalem's Lot.

Is that not my family's

old mining town?

It is.

Thank you, Able.

If you'd like, I can help you

make scary costumes

for All Hallow's Eve?

- What can we be?

- Anything.

Ghouls, ghosts, gypsies.

What do we do

on All Hallow's Eve?

Oh, we walk door to door

in town

and people give us

money and food.

Oh, and there's also games.

One of them is, um,

with mirrors

where you can see

your future husband.

Another is with a pendulum

where you can speak to spirits.

That's my favorite.

Now, the idea is that the

pendulum leads us to a spirit.

And if we see a spirit,

it has to grant us a wish.

If we know the spirit,

can we speak to it?

Of course.

North, south, east, west,

wake up, spirit,

from your rest.

Winter, spring, summer, fall.

Let us see you, hear our call.

This way!

Let us see you, hear our call!

This way.

Keep an eye out.

Do you see anything?

Anything?

I'm sorry! I'm sorry.

I had to.

Did a spirit do that?

It's just a draft.

What was that?

Whip-poor-will.

Oh, poor thing.

That door's supposed

to be locked!

Something's down there.

I don't like this game.

And that's all it is.

Just a game.

Mr. Fletcher?

Let's go back to the parlor.

What is a ghost?

Is it a presence

that prowls our bed chambers

when we turn down the lights?

Or is it a memory

that roams the dark corridors

of our mind?

One moment.

Mr. Boone.

May I speak with you

privately?

Of course.

Uh, I've reprimanded

Mr. Fletcher

for leaving

the cellar door unlocked.

But I'm

I still have three children

very afraid in their beds.

I see.

Miss Morgan, I am aware

you're trying to bond

with the children,

and I appreciate that, but

well, they're still acclimating

to the loss of their mother

and the new house.

And, well, perhaps no more

games associated

with spirits or ghosts.

I was trying to share

a little seasonal fun,

but my efforts were misguided.

- I'm sorry.

- Thank you. No.

- Good good evening.

- Mr. Boone.

Tomorrow is Sunday.

Yes.

I was wondering

if we might consider

taking the children to church?

I don't think so.

I'm not one for religion

myself.

The church is a frequent

tool of intimidation

and promotes

the repression of women.

But this is small-town Maine,

and people talk.

Sir, your children

are wonderful,

but I know what it's like

to be unique

in a town that doesn't always

favor individuality.

Sometimes it's easier to fit in.

Well you may be right.

Thank you, Miss Morgan.

- Good morning, Grace.

- Good morning, Alice.

How are you?

Good morning.

Hat off, thank you.

Good morning.

Good morning, Alice.

I'd like to introduce you

to Charles Boone

- and his children.

- How do you do?

Ah, my name is

Alice Burroughs.

My husband is minister

of this congregation.

Nice to meet you.

My father would like

to speak with you.

This used to be his church.

All right.

Please, this way.

We'll wait.

Captain, this is my father,

Samuel Gallup.

Sir.

Mr. Boone.

How do you do?

My father noticed that

there isn't enough seating

for our regular members,

some of whom are quite old.

We're happy to stand.

It isn't that.

You're asking us to leave?

Mr. Boone, your children

are they Christian?

They are as much

or as little Christian

as they choose to be, sir.

We prayed we'd seen

the last Boone.

And why is that?

Because your family

is a plague on this town.

Well, that'll be enough, sir.

Now, I don't know what happened

between you and my family,

but neither myself nor

my children were a part of that.

We want nothing more

than a fresh start here.

I'm sorry to disappoint you.

We're leaving.

Let's go.

- Go! Tane!

- Did we do something wrong?

Loa! Come! Now!

Loa! Come on! Now!

Shame on you.

Sorry about church.

That's not your fault.

Samuel Gallup called

my family a plague.

Samuel Gallup is

a crabby old Puritan.

It's more than that.

Some blame Chapelwaite

for the illness in town.

The first afflicted were

two stable hands

who worked here for your cousin.

Both died.

That was two years ago.

Since then, five have been

planted in the church graveyard.

But that's hardly proof.

If it were,

I wouldn't be here.

What's Loa doing?

She wants to be alone.

So I should leave her then,

right?

Absolutely not.

I lost my temper earlier.

I

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have

grabbed you like that.

But you need to mind me.

I understand why you blame me.

I do.

Your mother never

would've gotten sick

if she'd stayed on the island.

Your leg never would've

withered from rickets.

But she was so strong,

your mother.

She insisted on coming.

She demanded we were a family.

I miss her, too.

I miss her, but

you can't stay silent forever.

There's something inside

that you hide from us.

It scares me.

When my father got sick,

Doctor Guilford said,

"Burn his clothes.

Burn the bedding."

Well, it didn't do sh*t,

but it was the right idea.

Let's send these new Boones

packing

before they inflict

their own wickedness on us.

What about you, Edward?

Your little Susan's sick.

Who's next?

Burn it then.

Do it.

Susan!

I need you to go back

in the house.

It's cold out here.

I could leave tonight

and no one would fault me.

I could fabricate

a pale fiction

of these Boones

and their trial.

Who would know but me?

But therein lies the hook.

For alone in the dark,

me is who I answer to.

Hidden within the crude

timbers of this dark manor

lies the truth.

I can feel it.

Outside this house,

fear gathers,

and ignorance spreads from

home to home like the illness.

Who goes there?

What drove this

bloodline to its tragic depths?

Suicide, m*rder, madness.

To know the truth

of Chapelwaite,

I must know the mystery

of Charles Boone.

It's coming!

The worm!