Outlander

- Previously... - Ian!

I won't set foot on our shores again wi'out Young Ian.

We will find him.

- Fergus. - Marsali?

What the hell are ye doing here?

- Fergus and I are married. - I am sending you home.

I'll tell everyone Fergus has already bedded me.

He hasn't, but I'll say it anyway.

I know that you're party to yer uncle's smuggling.

Where is he hiding the liquor?

They're firing at us.

No, signaling. They mean to board us.

We suffered an outbreak of infectious plague.

I know what it might be. It's called typhoid.

I can't catch it. I've been inoculated.

I won't take my eyes off that ship until you return.

But why are we moving?

Well, you can't just kidnap me like this.

You may be our only chance. I must take it.

What dealings have you with the cook?

Rose hips, cloves, lavender and orange peel.

It's a potpourri for Marsali.

May surprise you, Milord, but our cabin

is beginning to smell like the ship's bilge.

I thought it might impress her.

Why do I get the feeling it's me you're trying to impress?

Milord?

Oy! What...

The Porpoise, she's moving away.

Aye. They have hell's own journey ahead of 'em.

They have my wife.

Do we not follow?

Topmen! Away aloft!

Make sail!

Belay that order!

They've taken Claire.

Set main sail only. Helm a-lee

- and aim sou'-sou'west. - Aye, Captain. Sou'-sou'west.

- That's not enough sail. - It's all the sail

we can safely carry in this wind.

They're getting away, damn you!

The Porpoise is carrying 100 sick, and more dying every day.

Captain Leonard requires a surgeon for the duration

and is making headway at full sail to ensure

the shortest possible journey.

He has promised to deliver her safely to us in Jamaica.

And you agreed to this?

He conveyed a message to me.

When the captain of a seventy-four

asks you for a surgeon, you give him a surgeon.

I have more than your wife to think about, Mr. Fraser.

My wife...

My wife!

Tell your men to scabbard their blades.

Do as he says, lads.

Just keep me in sight of her, man.

We'll sail at our own pace, Mr. Fraser,

and no faster than is safe.

Mr. Warren, restrain Mr. Fraser

and take him below.

I need more room to house the infected men.

Once this deck is clean, the sick can convalesce here.

Where will the rest of us sleep, then?

Everywhere else.

We need to make use of every inch of space

so that no man sleeps touching another one...

Sick or well.

Every surface must be cleaned.

Typhoid fever is spread by hands

or... or food contaminated by infected urine or feces.

Then we'll all die, if you hadn't noticed.

There's shite everywhere.

Thankfully, Mr. Jones, most of this is vomit.

Now let's get to work.

Lady doctor giving me orders.

What was that?

Nothing, sir.

It's Captain's orders, Jones.

You're to do as the doctor says and pay her every respect.

Yes, sir.

We need to get more air down here.

It's foul.

Thank you, Mr. Sullivan.

You mustn't let any man pass in or out

without first dipping his hands.

Why do we dip our hands in grog?

Because we don't have any pure alcohol.

What did you just do?

Just a taste of grog, madam.

I couldn't see it going to waste.

The alcohol kills contaminants

that spread the fever, Mr. Pound.

By dipping your hands in the grog, you clean them.

But by putting them in your mouth, you've fouled them again.

Look, if you had the disease,

you could easily spread it to another man

by touching his food or... or simply touching his hand.

Look, please, dip them again.

I had been on the Porpoise for less than a day.

Surely no more than 50 miles separated me from Jamie.

And yet, it felt nearly as far as the 200 years.

Still, I was glad he was not here,

knowing he would not have been safe

from the typhoid raging through the ship.

I've managed to secure you a hat, madam.

The sun can be very unforgiving.

- Thank you. - Would it be helpful, madam,

if we had someone as knew how to

distill pure alcohol from rum?

You catch on very quickly, Mr. Pound.

We have two men pressed into service

out of the Old Tolbooth in Edinburgh...

Jailed for distilling illicit whisky.

Shall I put them to work in building a still?

Well, I think you shall.

Though it won't be a popular decision.

I'll speak with the purser about putting the men

on half rations of grog.

The men won't like it.

Well, would they prefer to die?

That pomander of herbs won't stave off the fever, Mr. Overholt.

But the alcohol just might.

And what's to keep these two slags from drinking their production?

We can set a private of marines to guard them.

It's the Captain's orders.

The doctor must get whatever she wants.

But I suppose, as we're only 250 leagues from Jamaica now,

it can be done.

How many casks will you require?

How many men would you like me to save?

Now, about the food...

Should be able to keep this down.

It's a pap of scalded goat's milk and pounded biscuit.

Feel better, Mr. Owens.

You can touch the sick if necessary, Mr. Pound.

But when you're down here,

you must never touch your face or your hair,

even your clothes, not until you've washed your hands again.

Yes, madam.

How old are you, Mr. Pound?

14, madam.

What's your first name, if I may ask?

- Elias. - May I call you that?

The Captain mightn't like it.

'Tisn't said in the navy, you know?

Well, I shall be very navy in public.

But if we're going to work together,

then it's easier for me to call you by your name.

How long have you been at sea, Elias?

Uh, since I was seven, madam.

My uncle's a commander on Triton,

which allowed me a berth in her.

I joined the Porpoise just for this voyage alone.

You are a very impressive young man.

That's Jim Quigley, madam.

He's a friend.

We're from the same town.

Three more have come down with it, madam.

Can you put them over there?

And if you can stay and help...

Yes, madam.

Give these men some water.

The surgeon's journal? Yes.

Had it transferred when he died.

- It's just here. - I need to know

the first reported case of the disease.

It would've been four weeks ago.

Here, Ben Cole.

Cole. "Reported sick this morning.

Headache, bellyache, dry cough, persistent fever."

Steven Cory, same.

Two the next day...

MacMorrow, Enthwhistle, same symptoms, same...

This notation beside the names,

- C-A-R-P, that's...? - Carpenter's crew.

Did they mess in the same room?

Captain, as I've explained,

the disease is passed by hands and food.

- Where did they mess? - The carpenter's store on the orlop.

Well, I need to speak to the surviving men who messed there.

Aye. Their names will be here.

And what is this? DD?

Discharged dead, madam.

- All of them? - Yes.

All but one. Joe Howard.

Well, he's... he's sick now?

No, he was never ill.

He was reassigned, on account of the deaths.

He works in the galley now with Mr. Cosworth, our cook.

I'm fine and dandy.

As you can plainly see, Howard has not been taken ill.

How can he be the source of the disease?

A man can still have the disease

without showing any signs and still pass it to other men.

She's speaking gibberish.

She already has me dedicating all my pots to boiling water.

We're on half rations of grog

because we have to wash our hands in alcohol.

And for what? Men are still dying.

Well, they're dying because the source of the disease