I would have no story to tell you...
if my great-grandfather had not wagered everything...
to bring that church here to the Bellinger River.
Or if Lucinda Leplastrier had not been given a Prince Rupert's drop.
Surprise!
Happy birthday, Lucinda.
It's beautiful.
- Your own Rupert's drop. - Careful, not too tight.
Gently.
- See? Not even with the hammer. - I'll try the ax.
Lucinda, try the pliers.
- I like it just as it is. - Go on.
- Take the plunge. - You'll see.
- Just there. - One, two, three.
Now!
My great-grandfather, Oscar Hopkins, had skin like his mother's.
Although the cancer had been removed by acid dropped onto her tender skin...
she had died anyway.
Papa!
Go!
Leave me!
- Oscar! - Papa!
The sea, from then on, would always smell of death to Oscar.
It shall be a day like any other of the Almighty's days.
There will be no mockery of the Almighty with pagan rituals.
Others may judge and laugh...
but they are in a darkness of their own making...
and will burn in hell.
"And the light shineth in the darkness...
"and the darkness comprehended it not. "
Nay.
We shall not use the name, the popish name others confer upon it.
Christ's Mass.
You have reclassified your mama's buttons.
Yes, Father.
The taxonomic principle being color...
with the spectrum from left to right.
With size the second principle of order.
Very good.
- All right. - "Give me neither poverty nor riches.
"Feed me with food convenient to me. "
- Amen. - Amen.
Excuse me, sir, would Master Hopkins help with the pigswill?
Very well.
Here.
What is it?
- It's Christmas pudding. - For you.
Eat up.
This is the food of Satan.
Sir, it be Christmas Day.
Some call it that, but none in my employ.
Well, Master Hopkins...
you will be a good helper and fetch up the specimen buckets.
Oscar had tasted the pudding.
It did not taste like the fruit of Satan.
Dear God...
if it is your desire that your flock eat pudding...
in celebration of thy birth as a man...
then show thy humble supplicant a sign.
Dear God...
if it be thy will that thy people eat pudding, smite him.
Oscar was frightened by what he had begun.
The Brethren.
Baptists.
Catholics.
Anglicans.
Now his father no longer knew the true will of God...
Oscar devised a way of asking the question directly.
Show me a sign that thou talkest to me.
Please, dear God, no.
God repeated the message again and again:
Anglican.
One, two, three, four, five, six...
Oscar did not wish to leave the shelter of the Plymouth Brethren...
but this was where God wished him to go.
That is precisely my point, Hugh.
Divine grace cannot be sought. It is given.
Look, Betty. It's a new crack.
Look, it is new.
- Stop. You'll make it worse. - They appear overnight.
Do you know how much was in the plate this morning?
The walls have always been damp. We haven't died from it.
That dissenter steals our congregation, one by one.
We'll have nothing, while he gets fat.
- That's his boy. - So it is.
- Hugh, your back! - Go on, go home. Go away!
Get off my lettuces! Off!
Wait! I am called.
I am called.
- They're only raisins. - He's probably unfamiliar with them.
What will your poor father do?
Think of the pain you will cause him.
I know. But he is in error, you see.
He is not saved.
But still, you will go home to him.
I cannot, no matter how much I want to.
Surely your father loves you.
Yes. Very much.
I also love him.
But, Hugh, the cost.
- The boy is called. - In what sense, "called"?
He's called to Holy Orders.
You've had three glasses, Hugh.
I shall coach him in his articles, Betty. He'll go to my old college.
Think of that.
Oscar knew that the Brethren prayed for the sinner to be returned to the fold.
But it was as impossible for him to return...
as it was for his father to order him home. Neither would budge.
Lucinda's mother knew that she had produced a proud square peg...
in the full knowledge that from coast to coast...
there were nothing but round holes.
Good boy.
Eight eggs.
I went for a swim.
We should have returned home after your father's death.
- "Returned home"? - To England.
I can tolerate what I have done to myself, staying on...
but I can't bear to think of what I've done to you.
Mama.
You're so hot.
I'm freezing.
Hey, Odd Bod! Hunt's on!
No!
Alas, alack, I love the track
And I love Nancy Dawson
I say, these are West's rooms.
- No... - Fish.
Fish, they are my rooms.
He has new rooms on this staircase. Damn it, I'm sure the Scout said 2.
- Maybe it was 1. - No, please, come in.
I say, Odd Bod, do you like a flutter?
- A "flutter," Fish? - No, of course you don't.
- What is a "flutter"? - It is to do with the racetrack.
- Athletics? - Horse races.
Horses?
And which part of the race involves the flutter?
A wager, a bet. A flutter.
- You do know what a bet is? - No, I don't.
You give your money to chaps...
and if the horse you like is the one that wins...
then they give you double your money back, or treble, or whatever.
Treble your money for guessing?
Guessing correctly.
- You mock me. - No, this is all new to me.
I was raised in a little village in Devon, very much out of the way.
- Look here, Odd Bod, I have to dash. - Perhaps you could call me Hopkins.
Call you what?
My name.
Do not rattle your sovereigns. You are not a plunger.
- What is a... - A "plunger"? West is a plunger.
He starts off with a couple of sovs, comes up trumps...
dabs it all down in a second and loses the lot.
Look at her. Revenger's Lass.
Three-to-one in the first. It's the day for a powerful varmint like that.
Look at that backside. Just look.
Now, number 10 is...
the Sailor.
- You have caught the germ. - No, thank you.
- I am corrupting you. - No, Fish. Don't you see?
- You should not be here. - You are an agent of the Lord.
Odd Bod, ease up.
I have been praying to God for funds...
and now I shall be able to pay my bills.
Quick, or we'll miss the first. I am already damned, of course.
That's the Sailor. Fish, has that got a powerful bum?
Odd Bod, come on.
My great-grandfather won his first bet.
In the case histories of pathological gamblers...
you find the same story told time and time again.
Stop! Those trees are mine!
She would have talked of it to me.
- She intended to return home. - But this is our home.
No, that is not my mother's signature.
Indeed it is. She signed it in my office. She had it all calculated.
- Five farms at 4,000 acres apiece. - You say all this is mine?
- Held in trust by me. - Until you are of age.
My mother would not have done that.
Dear girl, with a fortune such as this, you'll be married in a jiffy.
Why was I not told this?
I would have told you today, after your mother's funeral.
- Lf you had not run away. - No, I'm staying here.
You cannot. Your new home is with Mrs. Ahearn and myself in Parramatta.
You'll go to Mrs. Cousin's School for Young Ladies.
No!
- Come, girlie. - Do not touch me.
You will be rich one day.
That is not the point.
Not the point.
Lucinda had never been on a boat. She had never been to Sydney.
She carried with her a bank draft for her entire fortune...
as well as an itchy impatience to grasp what her mother had called...
"the working world. "
When Lucinda exploded her present of the Prince Rupert's drop...
it was not something she easily forgot.
She knew that glass is a thing in disguise.
It is not solid at all, but a liquid.
And even while it is as frail as the ice on a Parramatta puddle...
it is stronger than Sydney sandstone.
It was as good a material as any to build a life on.
Thank you.
One is more than enough, miss.
Good luck, miss.
This Frenchman, Leplastrier...
if he expects to find an expert on glass, I'm afraid he'll find only an enthusiast.
However, he has found out my little hobby...
and I shall try to advise.
- Your visitor, sir. - Jolly good. Show him in.
Monsieur Leplastrier?
This is from Botany.
And the other's from Hallet's, in London.
Hold them up to the light. Compare them.
The London, this one.
It's quite yellow. And this is...
It is so clear.
It is lovely.
Now the pièce de résistance.
- No, you must not! - Why must I not?
Because you know what will happen...
when it is gone.
I'm sorry.
Nothing to be sorry for.
The glassworks that are for sale in Darling Harbor...
- I wish to buy them. - To buy?
Would you help me?
But I have no knowledge of the commercial side.
My theory is adequate, of course. I'll be there in a minute.
Very good, sir.
Don't worry about him. Stay, please.
Soon, though, I have clergyman's business to attend to.
You cannot help me.
On the contrary, of course I shall help you to buy your glassworks.
- I have more than £10,000. - The deuce you do.
Will you take the plunge with me?
Monsieur Leplastrier.
15, 16, 17, 18, 19...
Stop. More for you, less for the poor.
- But this is all I need. - You need new togs.
What is wrong with my togs?
Everything.
You rake it in, then throw it away.
Look at you. You look like a scarecrow.
Perhaps because I'm wearing your coat.
Pardon me.
You've paid your buttery bill, I inquired. And drinking coffee.
- No, not coffee. - No?
I have a question for you. It is this: Do you have an income?
No, thank you. I'd rather stand. I will take it very ill if you trick me.
I have not tricked you.
It's 15 years since I could afford coffee.
You, a poor creature who has nothing in the world...
save what I can scrape together, is so gracious as to send me...
this luxury.
I only wish you not to worry.
God will provide for me.
Did you not enjoy your coffee?
Do not be so simple. You are poisoned by your father's ideas.
- I may be simple... - Your father is paying you.
I swear he is not. He would not pay a penny to send me here.
We've only met four times since we parted.
Then where does the money come from?
I am here in Oxford to raise funds for the restoration of my little church.
Now you must promise me...
never to be involved in anything amiss. I cannot have my name brought low.
My dear Mr. Stratton...
there is no need for such a promise.
I sent you the coffee because I love you both.
I meant no offense.
Miss.
Would you leave the glass samples out, please, Kate?
- Just like that, miss? - I have them all in categories, you see.
The Rev. Dennis Hasset knew his behavior was reckless.
His diary recorded the first meeting with this unusual girl...
and after that, many red slashes across previous appointments...
even one parish meeting.
You were right in your choice of the navy.
Excellent.
Who is that creature?
Sydney got ready to be scandalized.
It could not bear to see the two of them together.
Let her socialize with the notorious Charley Fig, if she wished.
Or with her accountant, Jimmy D'Abbs.
Oh, dear.
Harvey Briggs has bought himself a steamer.
- He can take us up to Pittwater. - Or across to Mossman's Bay.
- Who'd trust Briggsy with a steamer? - I'd rather Pittwater.
We could take her out for the day.
Look at this. Two weeks ago, she spilled them everywhere.
- Have you had enough of cards? - Please, just one more hand.
You have already lost three guineas, and it is after 2:00.
One more hand.
D'Abbs, you're meant to be looking after the girl's money, not taking it from her.
She is free to leave, Fig.
- Pass. - Pass.
- Five, with hearts. - Pass.
Eight, with spades.
A duck to water. She has caught the bug.
We are corrupting you.
I am jealous of your passion, I must admit.
- You are making fun of me. - Not at all.
I am a cold man warming myself at someone else's fire.
You will help me to exercise it carefully, with caution?
Heat we shall co-opt. I have a friend, a clever chap called Wilson.
- Let me carry those. - They're nothing. I worked on a farm.
- London is where you should go. - London? But I've just arrived here.
To buy the very latest machinery. That will make Sydney sit up.
- Is he... - Yes.
I have signed!
- I own the glassworks. - Congratulations.
I must confess to feeling scared.
I broke with my friend, Tom Wilson, this afternoon.
Why is that?
He said things about you that are scurrilous.
What things?
That you stay up all night gambling...
with Jimmy D'Abbs, Charley Fig, and others of that type.
I told Wilson such stories are pure fabrication.
That they should not be repeated. I told him D'Abbs was your accountant...
that you did go and see him, that indeed I went with you.
There is no more to it, is there?
I am sorry you argued with your friend.
Is there any truth in his story?
- I have been to Mr. D'Abbs' house. - Gambling?
I was lonely.
But you have been here three or four evenings each week.
Wilson mentioned gambling parties on a boat at Pittwater.
And dancing.
- Not once or twice. - There was no dancing.
- Well, I must go. - But you came to celebrate.
- I'm too sleepy. - We're having beef.
- I have to meet Mr. Queale. - At this hour?
- There is another paper to sign. - But his office will be closed.
We are to meet at Petty's Hotel.
I am sorry about your friend.
Lucinda had an immense feeling of relief.
No responsibility, no choice.
Every loss was one brick less in the foundation of her fortune.
I inquired last week about the Church Missionary Society.
- Sorry, sir. - Slow down, Odd Bod.
- They will have me, if I wish. - For what?
I enquired about New South Wales.
There is no need to frighten yourself with such ideas.
Look at me, Fish. I have changed.
- Look at what I have become. - Strike me. What have you become?
I have become vile.
You are not vile.
It's just that you do not fit.
- Speak quietly. - You are perfectly unique.
- Do you fit? - Me?
I fit. I dare say, I fit all too well.
Look at me. I'm about to marry a bishop's daughter.
You cannot fit more than that.
The school pays for all my needs.
- But I cannot stop gambling. - But you give it all away.
You do not even have coal for a fire.
Look at how you live. You have nothing.
Look at your togs.
And stop fidgeting.
I have sunk so low. I gamble even on the Sabbath:
On cards, on dogs, anything. Whatever is going.
You do not have to go to New South Wales for penance.
- Anyway, you cannot. - Why not?
Because you cannot bear a little aqua.
You could not sail as far as Calais.
You wish me to flip this?
- Yes. - You know I only use my own coins.
Call.
- I cannot. - Why not?
- I am frightened. - Then why do such things to yourself?
- Come, dear Odd Bod. - Heads.
For a man who could not bear a little aqua...
the Leviathan was the only ship to travel on.
In second class, you could go eight weeks...
and never find your way to a porthole with a view of the sea.
Poor cow.
The owner of the Prince Rupert's Glassworks had been told...
that on a clear day, from first class, you could see all the way to China.
Up we go. Hold tight.
In a trice, Hopkins. I told you, in a trice.
Goodness! What a splurge all this is.
Is it you that paid the boy's passage?
I would not have him go away.
It certainly wasn't the Missionary Society.
Hopkins' old man writes about the Yea.
Melody.
- Mr. Carlyle's "Eternal Yea. " - Dear, you make no sense.
"... bestowed by him on his devoted pupils during their three... "
Father.
Get up. You're not one of them.
O, Lord God.
This is my son from whom I have been estranged.
These are his friends and fellow voyagers.
O, Lord...
what can we do?
This is your caul...
from off your little head when you were born.
It is said to save you from drowning.
Will we never stand together with God on that happy day?
All ashore that's going ashore!
Get aboard!
Oscar knew it was only superstition...
that said a caul could prevent you from drowning.
Yet he clung to the belief anyway.
You can no longer put me off.
You played too much cat and mouse.
We did not think we were educating a wealthy man.
- I'm not... - I'm not a cadger.
I do not come here to beg.
But you must tell me how it is you managed all this.
If I told you and my father heard of it, it would be torture beyond his toleration.
You have my word. He never shall.
Dear Oscar, accept my word.
I have gambled.
I knew it.
- So, gambled. - The ship is moving.
- You have a system, as you call it? - A system?
You have a system, and you will write it down for me.
It's not simple thing you can write down. We have left it too late.
- Write it down, boy! I beg you. - You must go.
Is it horses?
It is.
Do you swear before God that you will send me your system?
I do.
You must go.
Go!
Round you go.
- Okay, I'll raise you two even. - I'm in.
Right, well, looks like we're playing for a long time. I'll have double in.
Thank you very much.
Eeny, meeny, miney, mo.
I am in the habit of making my confession.
Quite.
- Lucinda Leplastrier. How do you do? - Oscar Hopkins. How do you do?
- Do you hear confession? - I have done, on occasion.
Perhaps it is not a habit you approve of.
No, I...
No.
- Would you hear mine? - Of course.
Thank you.
Where shall I find you?
I'm in first class.
In order that I exist...
two gamblers, one obsessive, the other compulsive...
must declare themselves.
You must excuse me for not coming earlier.
Of course.
You must come and look at my view.
The purser calls them "landscape windows... "
but I argue they should rather be called "seascape... "
You see...
I have a phobia about the ocean.
My father was a naturalist.
He was in the ocean all the time. I, too, when I was a little chap.
But I developed a nervousness about it, like some have with heights.
So to come up here, with all this glass, to hear your confession...
I feared it was more than I could manage.
But I owe you an apology.
As you see, I was capable of coming all the time.
Confession?
"The Lord be in thy heart and on thy lips...
"and give thee grace to make a true and faithful confession. "
So...
"I confess to God Almighty...
"and the whole company of Heaven...
"that I have sinned. "
I have attended rooms in Drury Lane...
for the purpose of playing Fan Tan.
I have played dice on a train full of racing types.
I did not attend the racetrack...
but I went on that train expressly to play dice.
I tried to persuade a business colleague of mine to take me to a cockfight.
He refused, but I would have gone.
I set up the table here like this as a trap for the steward...
who I know to play poker.
I wished to play with them.
The dice that you played on the train...
was it Dutch Hazards?
Yes, it was.
- We also played another game. - Old British, perhaps?
Although in New South Wales, it is known as Seventh Man.
- Who provided the Peter? - "The Peter"?
- The term is unknown to you? - No, I think it's quite familiar.
I thought so.
These terms, Mr. Hopkins...
- are they also familiar to you? - I'm afraid so.
- This is most improper. - I don't think so.
- You have not absolved me. - Where is the sin?
We bet. It is all in Pascal, you know.
We bet that there is a God. We bet our life on it.
We calculate the odds, the return...
that we shall sit with the saints in Paradise.
Our anxiety about our bet wakes us before dawn in a cold sweat.
And God sees us suffer.
I cannot believe that such a God...
whose fundamental requirement of us is that we gamble our souls...
It's true, we stake everything on the fact of his existence.
I cannot believe that such a God can look unkindly on a chap...
wagering a few quid on the likelihood of a dumb animal crossing the line first.
Unless it might be considered...
a blasphemy...
to apply to common pleasure that which is divine.
Shall we play?
- Yes. - Yes!
- One shilling. - I raise you a shilling.
I shall see you.
Your two.
Your four.
I raise you three.
I'll see you.
- I have led you astray! - What?
No, I led you astray. You must forgive me.
Of course I forgive you.
- I played for pleasure. - No!
Stop it!
Oh, dear.
The scandal kept Lucinda a prisoner in her stateroom.
She waited for Oscar to apologize...
but she did not hear a word.
My great-grandfather did not emerge from his cabin...
until the Pinchgut cannons saluted the great ship's entry...
into Sydney Harbor.
Do not fear for your wife's cloth, Dean.
Not a drop will spill. You will see I was not boasting.
I'll take a small bet on it.
Will no one humor me?
- Half a crown, my Lord. Double or nothing. - Done.
Now concentrate.
Watch.
You will not see this done by many other bishops.
- Allow me to remove this. - No, leave it.
You did not believe that I could do it.
Well done, my lord.
I hear that your glass lady has returned.
- I beg your pardon, my lord? - Your petite amie.
Miss Leplastrier is not that, my lord.
She has arrived just in time for your farewells.
I am told the parish is called Never Never.
Our last chap was run out of town.
"Never, never come back," they told him.
Miss Leplastrier?
Is that the Miss Leplastrier who has just returned from England?
- Have you met? - Yes.
Then I am responsible for your exile.
Yes, and you have tried to hide it from me.
- I never thought... - Hush! Do you hear me?
You're wrong, quite wrong. Please.
- It is wholly theological. - You are not forced to go.
I have no choice. I must go where I am sent.
- By God? - Of course.
Or a man, the bishop?
Please. Do leave it alone.
What will happen to you in a place where there is nothing...
but mud and taverns? There's no church.
- No church building. - Stay.
Please.
We can have the works together.
And neither of us lonely.
No, I must go.
So you will preach what you do not believe to men who do not care.
I shall preach what I do believe.
There's no virgin birth?
That Christ died for our sins...
that we might be redeemed through his blood...
that we might sit at the side of God in Heaven.
There is a part of you that wishes to be sent away.
Quite a large part.
Who will I have to talk to?
Does the track bother you, Reverend?
A little, Mrs. Judd.
You grow accustomed to it...
in time.
And 3 shillings and three pence. That's every penny, Hugh.
- We'll double it. - All my capital.
We'll treble it. The system works. It's foolproof.
- It's not been thus far. - The boy has proven it. Have faith.
Please, Hugh, I can't keep up.
Mrs. Chadwick.
I cannot find Paraguay, Mrs. Chadwick.
Have you looked in the index, Alice?
Even her duties as a governess...
did not prevent twice-widowed Miriam Chadwick...
from chasing after another possible husband.
I am sorry we have no better a place for service.
Why be sorry, Verger?
Wherever we're gathered, isn't it true God is with us?
In a cathedral, or under a tree.
- As with our first settlers. - Our Lord was born in a stable, Verger.
I have brought flowers for the altar.
Thank you.
Now Lucinda had lost her only friend...
she wrote to him almost daily.
"What do you think of a glass arcade to cover George Street?
"Or a little pyramid of glass for the circular quay?
"I do wish you were here to advise me.
"Are you homesick for Sydney?"
Heads.
The Reverend's flowers! Whose dratted horse is that?
Stupid bloody animal.
No, Mr. Hasset did not ask to go north. He was sent.
- I asked and was refused. - The Bishop refused you?
Mr. Judd, what's going on?
The Rev. Hasset, is he...
a good friend?
He is a very dear friend.
Look.
- I'll tell you, sir! - Mr. Judd, Mrs. Judd. Please come in.
You've been gambling. We'll not have this. You can't deny it.
- I'm not denying it. - She's slipping out.
- I meant no offense. - She's putting on her hat.
- She is my guest. - A pretty name for it.
- Mrs. Judd... - I will not be stopped. He is a hypocrite.
We make him lovely vestments he will not wear. It's true.
You think God wants to see you looking like a crow?
- No, I wear what I believe. - You dress like a scarecrow!
He dresses like a scarecrow, he throws out our music and candles.
Here he is with cards and women in the temple.
You are a rude woman. And you are a rude man.
You imagine you are civilized...
but you are like savages with toppers and tails.
You should pray God to forgive you your rudeness.
You may leave.
The way you came.
Close it.
I am done for.
Surely not.
"When I told the Ecclesiastical Commission...
"that I have never gambled for personal gain, they would not believe me.
"They have cast me out.
"I am sorry to have caused you so much anguish, dear Papa.
"I know that you will believe that I am destined for eternal hellfire.
"It does seem there is nothing for a man to do...
"once he has gained the reputation that has been so unjustly given to me. "
Is Mr. Hopkins here?
No, he is not.
- Would you tell me where he has gone? - No, I cannot.
I am only a savage.
Giddap, boy.
Mr. Hopkins?
Forgive me.
Stand, boy. Mrs. Smith, we have a visitor.
- Too tight? - No.
That's one paw.
Now the other.
Them cuts, they was made by praying.
- Not fighting? - Praying. Like this.
Mr. Hopkins?
Good morning!
Mr. Hopkins?
Mr. Hopkins, may I ask you something?
I am searching for work as a clerk. I won't trouble you much longer.
No, what I wanted to ask is why do you ignore me?
I know you have been through awful pain, and I am sorry for it.
But now you hide in your room.
I never see you.
Or when I do, you will not look at me. You barely speak to me.
I cannot gamble again.
I have not asked you to gamble.
No.
I am in constant fear, every moment of the day...
that something we say or do will start it all over again.
I admit, yes, in that case, we do not have a good history.
I am weak. It is like opium to me.
For years, I gambled and took what I needed and gave the rest to the poor.
I gambled for a purpose. There was no sin in what I did.
But then when I had all my needs paid for, I still could not stop...
even when I promised God.
We shall make a pact.
We shall?
To never gamble again.
I promise I shall never invite you to a game of cards...
or any other form of gambling.
We shall keep it and be friends.
Yes.
- I am leaving. I cannot stay. - What do you mean?
The gentleman, so-called...
I have been told who he is.
Your friends at church have been talking to you.
- I cannot stay. - Well, do not stay then.
It will give me a bad name. People will think I was part of it.
Part of what?
Go!
Both sides, Mr. Hopkins.