Titanic

{Chapter Seven - Jack Dawson}

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FANGIRL WARNING:  Here comes Jack!

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The view of Titanic from the window of a pub, several blocks away, towered above the terminal buildings like the skyline of a city. The steamer's whistle echoed across Southampton.

The smoky inside of the pub was crowded with dockworkers and the ship's crew. Just inside the window, a poker game was in progress. Four men, in working-class clothes, played a very serious hand.

Jack Dawson and Fabrizio di Rossi, both about twenty, exchanged a glance as the other two players argued in Swedish. Jack was American. A lanky drifter with his hair a little long for the standards of the times. He was also unshaven - little stubble hairs coated his chin - and his clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them. He was an artist, and had adopted the bohemian lifestyle of the art scene in Paris. A very self-possessed and sure-footed man for twenty, having lived on his own since fifteen.

The two Swedes continued their sullen argument is Swedish.

"Du dumma fiskhuvud! Jag kan inte tro du satsar våra biljetter!" ("You stupid fish head! I can't believe you bet our tickets!")

"Du förlorade våra pengar. Jag försöker bara få tillbaka den. Stäng nu och ta ett kort." ("You lost our money. I'm just trying to get it back. Now shut up and take a card.")

Fabrizio, in his Italian accent, lectured Jack for the same reasons. "Jack, you bet everything we have."

Jack blew out the smoke from his cigarette before leaning in close, and simply stating, "When you've got nothin', you've got nothin' to lose."

Fabrizio sat back in his chair, sighing.

Jack spoke up jauntily. "Hit me again, Sven."

He took the card and slipped it into his hand. His eyes betrayed nothing.

Fabrizio licked his lips, nervously, as he refused a card.

The stack in the middle of the table contained bills and coins from four different countries. This had been going on for a while. Sitting on top of the money were two third class tickets for the RMS Titanic.

Titanic's whistle blew again. Final warning.

"All right." Jack stubbed out his cigarette. "The moment of truth, boys. Somebody's life's about to change."

Fabrizio put his cards down. So did the Swedes. Jack held his close.

"Let's see...Fabrizio's got niente. Olaf, you've got squat. Sven...uh-oh...two pair...mmm." Jack turned to his friend. "Sorry, Fabrizio."

"What sorry? What you got? You lose my money? Ma va fa'n culo testa di cazzo--"

"I'm sorry!" Jack interrupted. "You're not gonna see your mama again for a long time..." He slapped a full house on the table. Grinning, he continued, "'Cause you're going to America! Full house, boys! Woo-hoo!"

"Dio mio, grazie!" Fabrizio was stunned and overjoyed.

The table exploded into shouting in several languages. Jack raked in the money and the tickets.

Olaf balled up one, huge farmer's fist. It looked like he was going to clobber Jack, but instead, he swung around and punched Sven, who flopped backward onto the floor and sat there, looking depressed. Olaf forgot about Jack and Fabrizio - who were dancing around - and went into a rapid harangue on his stupid cousin.

Jack kissed the tickets, then jumped on Fabrizio's back and rode him around the pub. It was like they had won the lottery.

"I'm going home!" Jack shouted.

Fabrizio yelled to the pub keeper. "Capito? I go to America! Ha-ha!"

"No, mate. Titanic go to America. In five minutes." He pointed to the clock.

"Shit! Come on, Fabri!" Jack grabbed their stuff. "Come on!" He turned and shouted to everyone in the room, grinning. "It's been grand."

They ran for the door.

. . . . .

"We're riding in high style, now! We're just a couple of regular swells! Now we're practically goddamn royalty, ragazzo mio!"

"You see? Is my destino! Like I told you. I go to l'America! To be a millionaire!"

Jack and Fabrizio, carrying everything they owned in the kit sacks on their shoulders, sprinted toward the pier. They tore through milling crowds next to the terminal. Shouts went up behind them as they jostled through slow-moving gentlemen. They dodged piles of luggage, and wove through groups of people. They burst out onto the pier, and Jack came to a dead stop, staring at the vast wall of the ship's hull, towering seven stories above the wharf and over an eighth of a mile long. The Titanic was monstrous.

Fabrizio ran back and grabbed Jack. "C'mon!"

They sprinted toward the third class gangway aft, at E Deck. They reached the bottom of the ramp just as 6th Officer Moody detached it at the top. It started to swing down from the gangway doors.

"Wait! We're passengers!" Flushed and panting, Jack waved the tickets.

"Have you been through the inspection queue?"

Jack lied, cheerfully. "Of course! Anyway, we don't have any lice, we're Americans." He glanced at Fabrizio. "Both of us."

Moody responded testily. "Right, come aboard."

Jack and Fabrizio whooped with victory as they ran down the white-painted corridor, grinning from ear to ear.

"We're the luckiest sons of bitches in the world! You know that?"

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