She will not weep. She refuses, as he drags her from the room. Now they have a few minutes to escape. Maybe. Maybe.
She keeps that tableau of them in her head. Meg clutching onto Thomas. Her little boy, grown up and strong. John Smith, watching her go, aching eyes, the man she's always…
And she screams, so loudly it hurts her throat, 'I'd rather die tonight than live without knowing you!'
The marquis hits her around the head for that. She tastes the blood, as it trickles into her mouth
And she. She is going to – oh God. He is dragging her up to the deck. He meant it. When he said he'd give her to the crew. He meant it.
Oh God. Oh God. She shuts her eyes.
They emerge into the open air.
'Please, sir. Unhand my wife.'
It's John. Here, now, in front of her, it's John.