Upper deck, angle on SABRE swinging down from being above into the darkness down here; night is falling, and we’re below deck, so there’s not much light anyway.
SABRE making her way briskly past the stowed and lashed CANNON along the gun deck – each cannon is named, etched into the wood of its carriage – passing a SAILOR (RYAN) who is using a taper to light a hanging LANTERN.
It’s cramped down here.
SABRE has made her way to the aft of the upper deck, approaching her cabin, the false walls in place, the door closed.
1. DRAKE/small, cabin: So what d’you reckon?
Interior of the Great Cabin, Sabre’s cabin. Much as it was the last time we saw it, better illuminated as there are more lamps lit here.
DRAKE and DRUM are here, each of them looking a bit the worse for wear. DRUM is at the aft, peering out the gallery windows. DRAKE has been idly poking through the maps on Sabre’s map table.
1. DRUM: The enemy of my enemy.
2. DRUM: Provided you know who the enemy is, of course.
3. DRAKE: They’re pirates, that much is plain.
4. SABRE/off: We are not.
From aft, past DRUM, to DRAKE, to SABRE, who is now standing in the doorway.
5. SABRE: We are privateers, sailing under a Letter of Marque and Reprisal, graciously granted us by the Monarch-Constant, the Rose of Allyria.
Close on SABRE. Her manner has changed again; the grin, the swagger, all of it is present once more.
6. SABRE: A subtle, but important, distinction, wouldn’t you agree?