Chapter Seven

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 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, and his clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them. He was an artist, and had adopted the bohemian style of the art scene in Paris. He was also very self-possessed and sure-footed for twenty, having lived on his own since fifteen.

The two Swedes continued their sullen argument in Swedish.

"You stupid fish head. I can't believe you bet our tickets."

"You lost our money. I'm just trying to get it back. Now shut up and take a card."

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

Jack 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 countries. This had been going on for a while. Sitting on top of the money were two third class tickets for RMS Titanic.

The Titanic's whistle blew again. Final warning.

"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—"

"Sorry, you're not gonna see your mama again for a long time..." He slapped a full house down on the table. Grinning, he continued, "'Cause you're going to America! Full house, boys!"

"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 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 of 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.

"Going home!" Jack shouted.

Fabrizio shouted to the pub keeper. "Capito? I go to America!"

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

"Shit! Come on, Fabri!" Jack grabbed their stuff. "Come on!" He 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 practically goddamned royalty, raggazzo mio!"

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

Jack and Fabrizio, carrying everything they owned in the world in the lit bags on their shoulders, sprinted toward the pier. They tore through milling crowds next to the terminal. Shouts went up behind them as they jostled 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, and they sprinted toward the third class gangway aft, at E deck. They reached the bottom of the ramp just as sixth 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 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 are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world!"