Background.
Charlestown is a town in Cornwall in the west of England that has virtually remained frozen in time, it's changed little since the late 1700s. It started out as a simple fishing hamlet but within the space of a few years it was transformed to into England's most technologically advanced port through the efforts of one man - Charles Rashleigh. But as quick as it rise, its fall was equally spectacular as Rashleigh was betrayed and blackmailed by his associates and friends. The town's development stopped and Rashleigh died a broken and destitute man.
This is his story, a story of genius, scandal and betrayal...
The following scene takes place early in the story and occurs the morning after two of Rashliegh's ships were wrecked as they approached a local harbor. It's this incident that acts as the catalyst for Rashleigh's determination to build a safe haven for both his ships and his men.
Charles Rashleigh’s bank in St. Austell. An imposing yet contemporary (mid 1700s) building, indication of an air of prosperity and the entrepreneurial spirit that pervades the town.
Drawn up outside are a number of carriages, obviously the mode of transport of wealthy men.
In the background can be heard the voice of the TOWN CRIER.
Hear Ye ! Hear Ye! (beat). Two local vessels lost off Porthmear. Great loss of life.
This is the board room of the Bank. The room contains a long oak table around which sits six of Rashleigh’s business associates. His LAWER, BANK MANAGER, SHIP MANAGER and THREE INVESTORS. They are all wealthy men and carry the signs of their prosperity in rich tailored clothes. Especially the three investors whose wealthy clothing is wrapped around corpulent frames derived from an excessive love of food and wine. The chair at the head of the table, closest to the door, is empty.
In the centre of the table stands a model of a ship, similar in design to one of those lost in previous scenes. Around the walls are hung framed litho prints of engineering drawings, plans etc. (Some of these foreshadowing the technologies that will be used in the construction of Charlestown later.)
There is a general hum of conversation but none of the dialogue is distinct enough to be heard.
The double doors open and all conversation stops as the six men turn to watch CHARLES RASHLIEGH enter.
Charles Rashleigh, at forty, is visibly younger than the other men in the room. Yet he carries an air of absolute authority. He is tall, slim and immaculately dressed in the latest fashions of the day - a man of obvious wealth and importance.
However his face betrays his inner turmoil. He has just stared into the face of death.
My God, Charles ......
Rashleigh slumps into the vacant chair, reclines and drops his head forward to rest on his hands, not looking at those sat around him.
Disaster. They were so close to home.
We lost two strong vessels yesterday eve, with over 100 tons of prime cargo.
Aye, (beat) at a princely sum too, I reckon.
Is it not for this very reason that we pay Lloyds of London. Our losses will be covered.
This is true, but it will take us time to rebuild the ships and replace the goods.....
Rashleigh suddenly sits bolt upright, halting the conversation.
As Rashleigh stares at each man sat around the table, holding their gaze but not speaking until each shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
Ships, ... (pause)... Goods, ...(pause)... Insurance, ...(pause)... Monies. (beat) My God, Gentlemen (beat) , talk not to me of such things. Go down to the shore, look; as I have done this very morn; into the bloated drowned faces of men who died within sight of their hearths. Look into their dead, soulless eyes, then talk to their widows and children of your ships, goods and monies. (beat) This tragedy that has befallen our town must never recur. As God is my witness we will find a way to prevent it.
Go, I say, GO!
He gestures to the door behind him.
Shocked, the six men stand and hastily leave.
Left alone in the large empty room, Rashleigh glances around until his gaze falls on the model ship in the centre of the table.
Prey that we find a safe haven for you and the gallant souls who ply your trade.
CHARLESTOWN the screenplay is (c) Alan J. Porter - 1995 - 2005
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