Jamaica Inn

1 EXT. OPEN DEVON COUNTRYSIDE, DEVON - DAY 1, AUTUMN- 1820 1

CRASH into sudden noise and movement as a dry mud-spattered

black coach careens too close

-sunlight glinting off it and its wheels churning dust into

the frame.

WELL-HEELED TRAVELLERS waiting at this unofficial staging

post at the intersection of two dry dirt roads surrounded by

golden cornfields, jostle backwards into

-a young woman who is travelling alone and she steadies

herself against their surge.

An ordinary farm-girl, MARY YELLAN is 20, pretty, quietly

unconventional, a strong sense of right and wrong, a touching

guilelessness that makes her vulnerable. She’s drowning in an

oversized man’s coat (once her father’s) and looks very out

of place as she’s pushed to the back.

The horse is still rearing with a whinny, shaking at its

harness, hooves flying dangerously, as the DRIVER heaves on

the reins to bring it to a halt.

After everyone else, MARY drags her tatty trunk through the

dirt to board the coach.

2 EXT. ROAD, DEVON - DAY 1 2

The DRIVER whips the horse along

-the coach bumping and racing unsteadily on the dirt track,

a tiny black beetle among the cornfields.

3 INT. COACH - DAY 1 3

Inside the coach it’s cramped and unpleasant.

A middle class FAMILY with a FAT DAUGHTER take up the room,

MARY squeezed into a corner, feeling out of place and

uncomfortable at their staring.

She hugs her giant coat round her, a treasured keepsake, and

turns to look out of the window, and a last glimpse of this

warm and manicured place she has called home as

4 FLASHBACK:
EXT. CHURCHYARD, DEVON - DAY (A FEW WEEKS EARLIER)

4

The year is dying, autumn leaves starting to fall.

MARY wears her big coat, in the centre of a small group of

black-clad MOURNERS who stand by the grave-side as earth is

shovelled in on top of the coffin.

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A VICAR mutters benedictions, but MARY does not cry, her face

blocking out raging emotion.

5 EXT. DEVON LANDSCAPE - DAY 1 5

The coach continues its long journey through the pastoral

landscape.

6 INT. COACH, DEVON TO CORNWALL - DAY 1 6

Back with MARY on the coach as she shifts to try and block

out the painful memory, hugging her coat around herself for

comfort against being an orphan.

She turns to the window away from the other PASSENGERS,

staring at the Devon fields passing outside…

But the FAT LITTLE GIRL reaches up to her MOTHER and FATHER

and MARY involuntarily watches them pick her up, another

painful memory intruding 7

FLASHBACK:
EXT. FIELD YELLAN FARM, DEVON - DAY - 1820 7

MARY pushes a hand plough through a small field, and her

mother, MRS YELLAN, 40s but old beyond her years and doesn’t

look well, follows behind her sewing seeds.

They work in silence, at ease with one another, then MRS

YELLAN looks at her daughter in concern.

MRS YELLAN:

Mary, love. You shouldn’t be out

here on your own with me every day.

MARY:

(warm, joking)

Why not? I’ve never known it

trouble you before.

But MRS YELLAN’s serious, even though she tries to say it

lightly MRS

YELLAN:

You need to find a husband to take

care of you.

MARY’s obstinate - darts her MOTHER her a wryly humorous look-

MARY:

You manage well enough without one.

MRS YELLAN:

You should take Ned, love. You know

he’d see you right.

*

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MARY sits back on her heels, looks at her MOTHER, surprised.

MARY:

You always said that if I married I

should love the man. Have you

changed your mind?

MRS YELLAN purses her lips, but not without humour, at being

caught out. MARY grins, these two are close.

MRS YELLAN:

Of course I haven’t.

MARY’s pleased.

MARY:

Well then.

But as MARY puts her head down, continues with her work, MRS

YELLAN’s show of strength evaporates, she’s worried for her

daughter’s future.

8 EXT. FLASHBACK: CHURCHYARD, DEVON - DAY 8

A continuation of scene four, we come back in on MARY’s face,

remembering her mother.

But the service is over, MOURNERS walking from the grave,

leaving only MARY.

A tall, loping farm boy, NED, who’s better dressed than your

average farm boy moves to comfort her *

- and from across the churchyard, three GIRLS with ribbons in

their bonnets, who are not part of the funeral, are

surreptitiously trying to catch his eye and flirt with him.

NED ignores them, though he knows they’re there, only has

eyes for MARY.

*

NED:

She was a fine woman.

*

MARY nods curtly, goes. But there’s something other than

condolence on NED’s mind. *

NED (CONT’D)

I know that… maybe now is not the

time, Mary, bu*

MARY:

No Ned, it’s not. *

She keeps on walking, the VICAR watching her in worry, but

NED hurries after her -*

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NED:

You need to think about what you’ll

do. If you and I should - [marry]

*

MARY:

I’m going to my aunt’s in Cornwall.

(beat)

It’s what my mother wanted.

NED:

But! Mary?

*

She’s walking away but she stops. He hesitates -

NED (CONT’D)

You - you have my heart.

*

For a second she looks at him in painful, mute apology. The

jealous watching GIRLS look daggers and whisper behind their

hands, judging this unconventional farm-girl.

MARY:

I’m sorry.

MARY hates hurting him, fixes her eyes on the ground as she

walks away.

9 EXT. ROAD - DAY 1 9

The coach careens through a bleaker, rockier landscape.

10 INT. COACH - EVENING 10

Different PASSENGERS sit opposite MARY now, still better

dressed than she is, their blank eyes staring at her as

though she has no right to be in here.

MARY turns to the window and outside the landscape has

changed.

The sun is sinking in the sky as the coach rumbles over the

River Tamar and there’s a glimpse of the distant sea as the

landscape gets wilder, bleaker, and -

MARY’s eyes close, taking her into -

BLACKNESS.

CORNISH DRIVER (V.O.)

Launceston! All out!

11 EXT. THE FLEECE INN, LAUNCESTON, CORNWALL - EVENING 11

MARY blinks awake. The DRIVER opens the carriage door and

MARY follows the other PASSENGERS out *

*

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-to see that Launceston seems for all the world like a

frontier town from the Wild West.

DRAGOONS; PROSTITUTES; grimy TIN AND COPPER MINERS, chewing *

sticks; toothless old MEN; weather beaten FISHERMAN; and

young, rugged CHARMERS; all poor, most rough, spilling out of

the inn, drinking beer from mugs or tankards.

Fiddle music plays from somewhere. The small surrounding

houses are built of cold, grey Cornish granite.

It’s a long way from the twee morality of her home and MARY

is afraid, their eyes upon her as she steps around a MAN

who’s unconscious on the ground, and looks to see that the

other PASSENGERS have gone inside the bar.

As MARY hesitates to follow, unaccustomed to bars, a

uniformed Customs Riding Officer, LEGASSIK pulls up

-a filthy MAN in the back of his horse-drawn cart bleeding

from a wound to the leg, his hands and feet bound.

The COACH DRIVER peers inside the open-backed wagon with

interest as LEGASSIK climbs down -

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