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The Terror (TV series)

American television series

The Terror is an American television series that aired on AMC from March 25, 2018 to October 14, 2019. The first season is based on the 2007 best-selling novel of the same name by Dan Simmons.

Season 1

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Go for Broke [1.01]

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James Fitzjames: There is nothing worse than a man who has lost his joy. He's become insufferable. And he's a lushington to boot.
Sir John Franklin: We should be better friends to him, James.
James Fitzjames: I can't work out why he's even here. He despises glory. Even the glory of a good pudding. And he looks down on we of the wardroom. I tell you, one glance from him I have to remind myself I'm not a fraud.
Sir John Franklin: I'll not have you speak of him uncharitably, James. He is my second. Now, if something were to happen to me, you would be his second. You should cherish that man.
James Fitzjames: Sometimes I think you love your men more than even God loves them, Sir John.
Sir John Franklin: For all your sakes, let's hope you're wrong.
Graham Gore: Mr. Gregory thinks there must be ice wedged up in the prop well. But we won't know till first light. He all but assured me if we can clear out a jam, we'll be under way.
Sir John Franklin: Good. I think that's all for now, then, Graham, since we don't appear to be sinking. Wake me if that should change.
Henry Goodsir: Do you know sometimes when people are near passing I've heard they speak of a radiance like a million daybreaks all in one. In which loved ones are there to welcome them over.
David Young: We grew up at the Foundlings. I never knew me father or me mum.
Henry Goodsir: Then... Then there will be the angels with songs lovelier than you've heard.
David Young: Will I fly? Up to God?
Henry Goodsir: Yes. You... You'll see the Passage first, then, as you go. Try... Try to call back and let us know where it is.
David Young: I wanted to be 'ere when we found it.
Henry Goodsir: Do not fear it, David. I, I have been there when souls have passed. A great peace descends.
Francis Crozier: As a trusted friend once put it... This place wants us dead.
Sir John Franklin: Your demeanor should be all cheer, gentlemen. You understand? It's going to be tight, but that's what we signed up for, an adventure for Queen and Country. An adventure of a lifetime. That's what you tell the men.

Gore [1.02]

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Graham Gore: This place make you uneasy, Doctor?
Henry Goodsir: You call me doctor, but technically I'm just a surgeon. Anatomist, in fact.
Graham Gore: That's a doctor in my book.
William Gibson: He's running to inform.
Cornelius Hickey: No, I don't think he will.
William Gibson: Cornelius, we'll be lashed.
Cornelius Hickey: If Lt. Irving goes to inform command, then he'd have to tell them what it is he saw. Which means he's gonna have to open his imagination to what he didn't. I've seen him at Sir John's Sunday service. I've watched him pray. That's a man afraid of chaos. He's not going to invite more if he can help it.
James Fitzjames: Sir, he was no-one's first choice for this expedition.
Sir John Franklin: Mm, nor was I.
James Fitzjames: How any man achieves his post on an expedition is less important than how he spends it. And well, that he measures up.
Francis Crozier: Perhaps I would have done better to have played your game, Mr. Hickey, and gulled the world. I applaud you.

The Ladder [1.03]

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Francis Crozier: My condolences, Sir John. Amongst everything else, I know you mourn a friend.
Sir John Franklin: Thank you.
Francis Crozier: I apologize for the timing of this request. But its virtue's in its speed. I'd like permission to send a sledge party out. South. Not for leads this time. For rescue.
Sir John Franklin: Where?
Francis Crozier: The Hudson Bay Company outpost on Great Slave Lake. If the party leaves now, they'll have three full months to get there before winter comes in force.
Sir John Franklin: That is 800 miles, Francis! No, I do not grant permission.
Francis Crozier: At least tell me you understand why I'm suggesting it.
Sir John Franklin: You are suggesting it because you are a man who's happiest with a glass of knock-me-down in one hand and an alarm bell in the other.
Francis Crozier: [visibly insulted, but speaks calmly] I'm suggesting it because if this cold continues and we find ourselves overwintering again in this ice, help must already be on its way, come spring if we are to survive. I'd rather send out eight men now, for a long, unnecessary walk, than risk a necessary one for all of us in a year.
Sir John Franklin: I will not allow it. What signal would that send to the men?
Francis Crozier: It's not the men I'm concerned about signaling. No-one knows where we are.
Sir John Franklin: That is how you already see us? In need of saving?
Francis Crozier: I do.
Sir John Franklin: Yet your prediction last year about the terrifying winter we'd spend in the pack did not come true.
Francis Crozier: Not to the degree I feared, but that will change, should there again be no thaw. It is a Captain's duty, after all, to mind for the worst case, not for the one he hopes for.
Sir John Franklin: Oh, so, now I must hear you instruct me in a Captain's duties.
Francis Crozier: It's only eight men, Sir John. And there is just enough time.
[Franklin stares at Crozier for a moment, then angrily closes the door to his cabin before wheeling back on him]
Sir John Franklin: I have lost six men on this expedition to date. Six! And you ask me to risk more than doubling that number trekking over distant ground where you know I have lost men in years past. I'll hear no more of this. I will not lose another man, Francis.
Francis Crozier: We may lose all our men. That is what my alarm is ringing now, Sir John. And I... I am at a loss why yours is not.
Sir John Franklin: You are the worst kind of second, Francis. You abuse your freedoms. You complain in the safety of speculation, you claim foresight in disasters that never happen, and you are weak in your vices because your rank affords you privacy and deference. You've made yourself miserable, and distant, and hard to love, and you blame the world for it. I'm not the sailor you are, Francis, never will be. But you will never be fit for command. And, as your Captain, I take some responsibility for that. For the vanity of your outlook. I should have curbed these tendencies, rather than sympathized with them, because you seem to have confused my sympathy with tolerance, but there is a limit to how much I can tolerate, and that is where we are presently standing! There are some things we were never meant to be to one another. I see that now. Friends on my side. Relations on yours. So let us turn our energies back to being what the Admiralty, and life, have seen fit to make us. We should give that our best. There can be no argument between us there. Now you must excuse me. I have a Service to finish writing for tomorrow. It will have to act as the only eulogy our boy Graham will be given out here... and I intend it to sing.
[Shaking with anger, Crozier leaves Franklin's cabin, and spots Fitzjames eavesdropping outside; with a glare, he leaves to return to Terror]
John Irving: We are separated here from the temptations of the world. At sea, a man can find spiritual benefit in the collective. It is no accident the world was reborn clean out of an ark, Mr. Hickey. Man's worst urges can be satisfied through Christian pleasures and graces, singing with friends, watercolors, study - climbing exercises.
Cornelius Hickey: Climbing, sir?
John Irving: Your crisis is an opportunity for you to repair yourself. You are in the world's best place for it.
Cornelius Hickey: Do you think so?
John Irving: God sees you, Mr. Hickey. Here more than anywhere.
Sir John Franklin: In honor of our brother Lieutenant Gore, be merciless. Educate this creature as to the dominion of the Empire, and the will of the Lord behind it.
[June 11, 1847: After Franklin is killed by the Tuunbaq, Crozier - now commander of the expedition - addresses the crews of both ships, taking out a paper from his coat]
Francis Crozier: These words are not mine. They're Sir John's. He wanted you to hear them. And, lacking words of my own, I gave you his. His last. "In his flight, Jacob lighted upon a certain place and tarried there, because the sun was set. He thought it a terrible place. No house, no hearth. But that night, he dreamed: A ladder set upon the earth, and the top of it reaching to the heavens. Behold, the Lord stood above it, and He said, 'I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places, wherever thou goest; for I will not leave thee.' And in Jacob's dream, he saw the invisible world, companion to the known one we perceive; with its rocks and moon, its ice fields and brute animals, and all the people we know... have ever known... and will ever know. So complete it would seem to leave no room for its invisible brother world, which is yet more immense than the one we see. For in this world dwell the angels who keep us, the Lord who will not leave us, and the departed who, though cleaved from the frame that carried them, yet live. Newest to their ranks, our bright Captain, Sir John, who in the virtue and strength of his every gesture showed himself the elect of the Lord, destined to reign with Christ forever. The invisible world of spirits, though unseen, was present for Jacob. Not future, not distant, but present. And it is now, and it is here, among us, if we open our eyes, and see His truth amongst us."

Punished, as a Boy [1.04]

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Lady Jane Franklin: Gentlemen, no doubt most of you were in London for that light snow that we had last month. One evening after dinner I stepped out into our courtyard. I was without a coat and even a muffler and I stood in that snow to see how long I could bear it.
Sir John Barrow: Lady Jane, there are two years of provisions -
Lady Jane Franklin: One hour and a quarter before I was desperate to get back indoors again. But I made myself stay. And what's more, I took off my shoes and I stood in that wet snow. Two minutes more. Two minutes, and then I was done. Our men have been out there in unimaginable temperatures for more than a million minutes! No one can convince me that optimism or confidence is warm enough.
Sir John Barrow: One's sense of cold is relative to one's experience. I would remind you, madam -
Lady Jane Franklin: I suspect therein lies the problem. Most of you gentlemen have written your memoirs. I've read them. The past tense is a very sturdy thing. It's earned, but it does take for granted that one has survived. The present is a different case entirely. And so I've come here to ask you, what is your plan, and when will it begin?
Francis Crozier: It feels like an omen. As I climbed the ridge I was thinking it. I could see the pattern. But I couldn't credit an animal with having that -
James Fitzjames: You're saying a bear staged a misdirection?
Francis Crozier: I'm saying I ordered that we split up into pairs to cover more ground. I did. And then I left him. I only took him with me because he was scared.
James Fitzjames: [gesturing to Crozier's drink] With all you're shouldering, perhaps you should you should curb that for now.
Francis Crozier: Does one not bring one's habits to Terror?
James Fitzjames: Why are you here, Francis? You've never believed in this cause. No one was ordered to this. We volunteered. You volunteered.
Francis Crozier: I was, in fact, ordered.
James Fitzjames: By whom? Not by the Admiralty. You were never Barrow's choice.
Francis Crozier: Keep Sir John safe and ensure his judgement. Those were my orders. It's what she asked me to do.
James Fitzjames: Lady Jane?
Francis Crozier: No. I don't owe her a bloody thing. Sophia.
James Fitzjames: Miss Cracroft? Miss Cracroft, who rejected you? Twice, as I heard it.
Francis Crozier: You discussed this?
James Fitzjames: Yes. Sir John discussed it with me. Well, he... Actually, he regretted how it had happened. Francis, he was burdened by it.
Francis Crozier: Burdened by the thought of a third attempt, no doubt.
James Fitzjames: That's why you're here. Good Christ, Francis.
Francis Crozier: Keep your pity. You're going to need all the pity you have for what's coming.
Henry Goodsir: I don't know what's happening here. I truly don't. This is not how Englishmen act. I, I don't recognize this behavior.

First Shot a Winner, Lads [1.05]

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Henry Goodsir: Captain's leaving the decision to you, in case I'd be too missed.
Stephan S. Stanley: I really wouldn't worry yourself there. Fine. Go with the girl. And don't forget to invite us all to the wedding.
Henry Goodsir: Has anyone ever invited you to a wedding, Dr. Stanley?
Edward Little: [about Tuunbaq] Do you know the word, Mr. Blanky?
Thomas Blanky: It's similar to a Yupik word I know from Russian America. "Tuunraq." A spirit.
Edward Little: Spirit?
Francis Crozier: That may not be her meaning.
Thomas Blanky: A spirit that dresses as an animal.
Francis Crozier: Help us stop it or you leave!
Lady Silence: [Inuktitut] And who is going to stop you? You use the wind to carry you here. You use the forest to hide inside. You use all this and don't even want to be here. You don't want to live. Look at you. Even if I could help, you don't want it. Why do you want to die?
James Fitzjames: Francis -
Francis Crozier: Don't ever call me Francis again. You'll call me what I'm due to be called.
James Fitzjames: You stole 16 bottles of spirits from my ship. I don't know what you're due. I do know there hasn't been a single meal we've shared, a conversation when you weren't morbing on about what you're due. Your luck has changed, Francis. No one has you in harness any longer. You are commanding this expedition entire. So damn your eyes. What else do you require? Respect? Well, earn it. Or are you determined to be the worst kind of first as well?
Francis Crozier: I'm afraid I need to ask the four of you for a favor that will likely be a great imposition. And... There couldn't be worse timing, I understand. But there also couldn't be a greater need. I'm going to be unwell, gentlemen. Quite unwell, I expect. And I don't know for how long. A week? No. Two. Perhaps... Perhaps more. And not only must you draw the tightest possible curtain around what is happening, but you must also care for me as well, as I will not be able to care for myself.
Thomas Jopson: You needn't worry for a thing, sir.
Francis Crozier: I will be in no position to command. That will be for Captain Fitzjames, for all things. And you must be my proxy here, Edward.
James Fitzjames: Francis -
Francis Crozier: No. I'm sorry, but we mustn't stop until it is finished. I mustn't stop, and you mustn't let me. I may, I may beg you. Take this out to the spot where the thing's blood is and pour it out there.

A Mercy [1.06]

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[January 1848: With Crozier detoxing from alcohol addiction, Fitzjames heads a meeting of the expedition officers]
John Irving: As such, we can expect to finish our full supply of coal by November next, unless we start stepping down the ships' heating plan now, and that's without any future days making way under steam being factored in. Of salt beef, we have a combined total of 750 pounds. Salt pork, 210. Flour, 902. Cheese, 87. Dried fruits, nine pounds, only after making the men Lady Jane's Christmas pudding last week.
George Hodgson: Hear, hear.
John Irving: Of lemon juice... not quite 200 gallons remain, though Dr. McDonald suspects it's lost most of its anti-scurvy properties by now. As for the tins, we've now inspected every one and tossed out the putrid. It's clear now why the Stephan Goldner Tinned Foods Company was the low bidder.
Alexander McDonald: I'd like to run that man through.
John Irving: What's left number 1,402 tins preserved meats, 1,163 preserved vegetables, 911 preserved soup, 1,182 potatoes.
James Fitzjames: And when is the point of no return?
John Irving: If we reduce to three-quarter rations, we'll reach the end of our provisions mid-winter next year, if we're stuck in again with no game. That with our current roster of 116 men.
James Fitzjames: Why mention the number of men, Lieutenant? [clears his throat] We've not seen hide nor even a hair of Mr. Teeth-and-Claws. We can be confident that Mr. Blanky here along with Mr. Hodgson killed it or ran it off for good. No, the men will notice that large a reduction in what they eat. They'll begin with four-fifths rations, and we will discuss how to reduce further in a month's time. And finally, advise Mr. Wall and Mr. Diggle that they should emphasize salt meats in their menus now, not the tins. We must... we must start to preserve all things portable now.
[Fitzjames asks Blanky about "what happened to John Ross on Fury Beach"]
Thomas Blanky: You read the book, so you know we spent three winters on the Victory.
James Fitzjames: Yes. Nearly the same as we.
Thomas Blanky: Captain would have tried for a fourth if we hadn't run out of food. We shouldn't have waited to start walking. By the time we got to it, the scurvy was in us. And Captain Ross, he had no sympathy for illness.
James Fitzjames: What do you mean?
Thomas Blanky: We sledged the boats with us. We were carrying half a load a day's march, then doubling back for the other half. I finally begged Ross to drop the boats altogether, but he replied he'd rather leave our sick to die. This from his position riding atop one of the sledges. It was 300 miles to Fury Beach. We were barely standing. What little love we had amongst us the only thing keeping us civil. We had one day's provisions left. One. Were it not for the cache of stores left there from the wreck of the Fury, we'd still be on that beach, bleaching in the wind. We tried to row out to the whaling channels, but the ice kept us back.
James Fitzjames: This is where you built Somerset House?
Thomas Blanky: Aye. Somerset House. Even there, Ross kept rank. The officers kept their stewards and their wolf blankets, and what salmon we could catch. The rest of us just slept in ice ditches and fought over year-old biscuits. And once it's past all hope, the mind goes... unnatural with thoughts.
James Fitzjames: What kind of thoughts?
Thomas Blanky: Like splitting open Sir John Ross's head with a boat axe. You said you wanted the truth, sir, in my own words. I trust you won't court martial me for them now.
James Fitzjames: Would you have done it? [Blanky just smiles knowingly]
Thomas Blanky: Leads opened up in the August. We got picked up by the Isabella. We'd been taken for dead for two years.
James Fitzjames: Mr. Blanky, most of the men survived.
Thomas Blanky: If that's the point you want me to get to, sir, then yes, we survived. But if we're going to walk out of here ourselves, and almost three times as far, you need to understand it wasn't sickness or hunger that most mattered to our chances. It's what went on up here. [taps the side of his head] Notions. A darkness with no firm hand to stem it. I know many were thinking what I was. Sir John Ross, he never knew how close he came.
James Fitzjames: This kind of darkness, do you see it among us here?
Thomas Blanky: I don't need to see it to know it's here. We've time enough to vent it.
James Fitzjames: How?
Thomas Blanky: Well, first of all, you're gonna keep things from the men, you better give them something in return. Now. Something to keep their minds on, no matter what lies ahead. There'll be a tally for it, later, when things get hard. There always is.
Thomas Jopson: How do you feel?
Francis Crozier: Like Christ, but with more nails.

Horrible from Supper [1.07]

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[April 22, 1848: Crozier gives the order to abandon the ships, and tours Terror for the last time with Blanky]
Francis Crozier: Friend, mother, lover, all the things they say a ship is to a captain, and they miss the only thing that matters: Confessor. This ship knows everything about me, Thomas.
Thomas Blanky: In '37, when George Back wrecked it, tugged it home across the Atlantic, she was barely afloat. No one could believe she kept herself up. She may well triumph.
Francis Crozier: Because it is needed, and because it is deserved, I am making a promotion this morning. An emergency measure, if you will. But one that is wholly sincere. To my knowledge, this has never been done. But then much of what we are now doing has never been done, so I don't want there to be any confusion over this. Someone on this expedition has earned our trust, respect and confidence in a way that merits absolute a place at this table. Well, gentlemen, we have a new lieutenant to welcome this morning. James.
[Fitzjames leaves the table with the promotion order, then pauses, and hands it to Jopson]
Francis Crozier: Let me clarify, Jopson. I mean a third lieutenant. There is some modicum of protocol that must be observed, even here.
James Fitzjames: Look at your face. Congratulations, Jopson.
George Hodgson: I'm not a captain. I'm not made of that.
Cornelius Hickey: You can be whatever you need to be now. Survival is a nasty piece of business. But we do what we have to do. We reconfigure. We reinvent. We rearrange.

Terror Camp Clear [1.08]

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James Fitzjames: Do you know, after the war, I asked permission to walk home to London from Nanking, through Tibet and Russia. I wanted to try my hand at being an overland spy. I was the best walker in the Service. I told Sir John Barrow that once without blushing. I was quick to want the world rid of its fools an hour ago. I forget sometimes how much an exemplar I am among them.
Francis Crozier: That's not how I see you.
James Fitzjames: Francis, do you know how I was appointed to this expedition? I saved Sir John Barrow's son from a scandal. By chance, in Singapore. I paid to have a very base matter settled that would have blackened the Barrows' name, and the Admiralty's by association. As soon as I returned to London, I was promoted to commander. When the Admiralty announced there would be another attempt at the Passage, well, I only had to say the word.
Francis Crozier: That only makes you a man.
James Fitzjames: Does it?
Francis Crozier: What you describe is a surplus of political luck. Not a dearth of courage.
James Fitzjames: I am a fake, brother.
Francis Crozier: I challenge any biographer to tally up your acts of valor and then call you a fake.
James Fitzjames: Francis, a man like me will do amazing things to be seen. My... My father... My father was a ridiculous man. Ruined himself with debts. He was a consul general in Brazil, and he and his wife would mix with the wealthy Portuguese families in exile there. My mother was probably from one of those families. I was never told more. I was born out of an affair. And my father's cousins had to find people to raise me. My name... Even my name was made up, for my baptism. "James Fitzjames." Like a bad pun. I'm not even fully English.
Francis Crozier: I didn't know any of that.
James Fitzjames: I've never said it out loud before now. I always felt I deserved more. So I went to sea aged 12, and I began to build myself a great gilded life that didn't humiliate me to live. And so all of those stories that you would have my biographer tally as courage? It's all vanity. It always has been. And we are at the end of vanity.
Francis Crozier: Then you are free. Mine your courage from a different lode now. Friendship. Brotherhood.
James Fitzjames: Are we brothers, Francis? I would like that very much.
Thomas Jopson: You're lucky you weren't just shot back there, Mr. Hickey.
Cornelius Hickey: Do you have a sudden gift for aim, Jopson?
Thomas Jopson: Everything we ate growing up started with a gun. My aim's fine, Mr. Hickey. I've shot smaller hawks than you.
Cornelius Hickey: I've let the captain speak now long enough. Telling every manner of falsehood against me. Proving only every man lies. Even this man, your captain. But I must pierce this thing he calls "truth" with another of his own recent deceptions. June 11th, last year, the day Sir John was killed something else transpired. Crozier made a plan. In secret. To get himself out without you. "There are many feats that preoccupy a captain's imagination. But abandoning his ship and his men should not be among them. Yet I hereby tender my..." Oh, go on, Captain, you finish it.

The C, the C, the Open C [1.09]

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Francis Crozier: Are you comfortable, James?
James Fitzjames: I'm sorry.
Francis Crozier: What in heaven for? How on earth you were walking at all will puzzle me the rest of my days. You've got holes in you, James.
James Fitzjames: That shot was fired six years ago. It's going to murder me yet.
Francis Crozier: If it doesn't, it's going to make that Chinese sniper story you're so fond of recounting a half hour longer to tell.
Henry Goodsir: You've murdered this man whom you now wish to eat, and you're unwilling to butcher his flesh yourself? But you will have to.
Cornelius Hickey: We do not know which parts -
Henry Goodsir: Yes, you do. Of course you do. If I'm reading right your accent, Mr. Hickey, you grew up in a home where you would have to use every part of any meat or fowl your mam could procure. So if you want to eat your friend, you're going to have to cut into him yourself. Do not ask me again.
Cornelius Hickey: I'll give you some advice: don't indulge your morals over your practicals. Not now. Don't you also want to live?
George Hodgson: One summer when I was seven, my parents sent me to live with two aunts in Oxfordshire. I did not want to go. The elderly have that effect on children. But they loved me. And I grew to love them. They were papists I came to find. Devout. Each Sunday they would leave me with a housemaid while they attended a Catholic Mass. I was frightened for them. I had been told they were doing some great, unforgivable thing. Then one morning, they took me with them. I was shaking. The service was not the howling spectacle of sin I had imagined, but was beautiful. The singing sounded delivered by angels themselves. When it came time for the Eucharist, I found myself moved to step forward. My aunts were surprised, but pleased, I could see. I took the wafer on my tongue. Drank from the chalice. I felt clean. With the body and blood of Christ within me I felt forgiven of every poor weak or selfish thing within my soul. It was a perfect moment in a whole imperfect life. The next week when it came time to dress, I, I pretended to be ill. They knew I was pretending. To this day, I don't know why I did it. They never asked me to join them again. We never spoke of it. It was the last and only time I stepped into a papist church. But tonight when I close my eyes I'm there. If I were a braver man, I would kill Mr. Hickey. Though it would mean my death, too. But I am hungry. I am hungry and I want to live.
[In the mutineers' camp, Hickey lights a cigarette as Tozer reports a Tuunbaq sighting]
Cornelius Hickey: Where?
Solomon Tozer: It's got Crozier's group a very scant few miles ahead of it, and ours a very scant few miles behind. It'll find one of us or the other, I have no doubt about it.
Cornelius Hickey: Can we bait it? In their direction?
Solomon Tozer: We should return to the ships. I've seen the charts, Cornelius. We're barely a quarter of the way. We've seen more signs of melt. Mr. Des Voeux sighted birds. If we head back immediately, we can be assured of getting back to Terror and Erebus before they have enough open water to leave. We can keep a loyal crew. We can head away from this place. Away from this devil.
Cornelius Hickey: Well, you finally sound frightened, Solomon.
Solomon Tozer: We don't want to meet this thing again. We can't beat it!
Cornelius Hickey: There's a queer melody for a Marine.
Solomon Tozer: I saw that thing murder Mr. Collins.
Cornelius Hickey: You've told me.
Solomon Tozer: I didn't tell you all. I haven't told anyone all. Do you believe a man has a soul? [Hickey smiles and nods] How have you come to that belief? Have you seen one? I have. I saw Mr. Collins's soul. I know that's what it was, and I watched that creature ingest it. Feed on it. Watched it happen from a few yards away. I'm not mistaken. It breathed that man's soul in. If it's following the Captain's group now, let's take that opportunity and get as many miles between us as we can. Get back to the ships, and be there when the leads open. Not here. Not here.
Cornelius Hickey: This does mean a new plan. Can you signal to our friend ahead?
Solomon Tozer: Yes.
[After Fitzjames' death and burial, Crozier and Blanky discuss strategy to fight the Tuunbaq]
Francis Crozier: We need high ground. Put all the sick in the middle, then face it down with all the ammo we've got.
Thomas Blanky: [nodding] I've got a strategy, Francis. You cut inland a bit, and I drive it back out onto the ice.
Francis Crozier: Not possible.
Thomas Blanky: It is. I smell like a thousand-year-old armpit.
Francis Crozier: I mean permission not granted! I'm not saying goodbye to two friends in one day.
Thomas Blanky: Between me and you, Francis, I'm done for.
Francis Crozier: If you need to ride in a damn boat, I'll put you there myself! [Blanky pulls up his pant-leg, showing his peg leg is cracked] Mr. Weeks can make another one.
Thomas Blanky: They're gonna have to cut it a lot higher this time. And that's only for the time being. [pulls his pant-leg up further to show his stump has gone gangrenous] Let's not make me or Mr. Bridgens go through that, shall we?
Francis Crozier: [voice breaking] Bleedin' hell, Thomas, why didn't you speak up?!
Thomas Blanky: I kept it tidy. No one could've done a better job.
Francis Crozier: [anguished sigh] Jesus Christ!
Thomas Blanky: Francis, we both know what's comin' for me now! At least love me enough to admit it! [limps over to Crozier and puts an arm around his shoulders]
Francis Crozier: [quietly] What do you need?
Thomas Blanky: I've got half a pouch for me last smoke. That'll do for me. Oh, I'll take some forks off you and the men. Forty or fifty.
Francis Crozier: [incredulous] Forks?
Thomas Blanky: Aye, and a piece of rope. Enough to go around me a few times. [Crozier suddenly realizes what he's asking] Fifteen feet should do it. [starts laughing as Crozier shoves him off]
Francis Crozier: You're mad! [Blanky nods as he laughs uproariously; after a moment, Crozier joins him, and the two men embrace for the last time]
[John Bridgens reads Henry Peglar's journal (the "Peglar Papers"), while Peglar lies dead next to him]
Henry Peglar: [voiceover] The C, the C, the open C. It grows so fresh. The ever free. The ever free. The ever free. Without it... without it... guard it, or run to the earth, above the regions round. I love the C. I love the C.
[Alone on a ridge overlooking the Northwest Passage, Blanky - forks tied around his body, boat knife in his hand - sits waiting for the Tuunbaq, as he hears growling coming from behind him...]
Thomas Blanky: What in the name of God took you so fuckin' long? [laughs]

We Are Gone [1.10]

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Cornelius Hickey: You and I once shared a drink on a Wednesday. Do you remember that day?
Francis Crozier: I do. You had a dog turd in your hand.
Cornelius Hickey: The toast was, "Ourselves." That was fitting then. But so it is again today.
Francis Crozier: You misunderstand the toast, Mr. Hickey. It was meant as a joke. Not a very clever one.
Francis Crozier: Even if God is seeing every last thing we do here, you have nothing to fear. Not you. You're clean, Goodsir. Clean. Even as your hand is forced by swine.
Henry Goodsir: Is God here, Captain? Any God? It doesn't matter. This place is beautiful to me, even now. To see it, with eyes as a child's. There is wonder here, Captain.
Cornelius Hickey: You hold yourself to the standard of a man you are not, nor should ever have tried to be. You've let shame drive you on and on. It's part of why we are where we are.
Francis Crozier: Then why have me brought here at all? At great risk to your men.
Cornelius Hickey: Tuunbaq... a spirit that dresses as an animal, yet we shot it with a cannon and drew blood. How do you reconcile that?
Francis Crozier: I can't. There's much about this voyage I can't reconcile.
Cornelius Hickey: What mythology is this creature at the center of?
Francis Crozier: About the creature, I have no answers, Mr. Hickey. We were not meant to know of it.
[September 1850: Crozier, the last survivor of the expedition, now lives with the Netsilik, when a man comes running with news...]
Netsilik Man: [Inuktitut] Two men are coming, pulling a sled. White men.
Netsilik Hunter: [Inuktitut] What do you want to do? [Crozier pulls up his hood]
Francis Crozier: [Inuktitut] This is what you tell them...
[Inside the hunter's tent, while Crozier listens outside, the hunter speaks with Sir James Clark Ross and his translator]
Translator: "We saw a captain there, the one called Aglooka."
Sir James Clark Ross: [pulls out photographs of Fitzjames, Franklin, and Crozier] Ask him if one of these men is the one he's calling Aglooka. [the hunter points to the picture of Crozier]
Translator: "He spoke in our tongue. He was dying."
Sir James Clark Ross: What did Francis say? Aglooka?
Translator: "Your friend took my hands. He said, 'Tell those who come after us not to stay. The ships are gone. There is no way through, no passage. Tell them we are gone. Dead and gone.'"
[As the translator speaks, Crozier heads out with a sledge party, and sits down to hunt for seal as the camera pans out across the ice...]

Cast

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